#the lighting! their expressions! eddie's crinkled little nose!!!

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

The trouble with cones

Written for the @steddiemicrofic challenge, December 2023 edition

Prompt: pine, 508 words

Rated: M

CW: Explicit language

Tags: Coffee shop owner Steve; Tattoo studio owner Eddie; Flirting; Teasing; Sexual Tension

(Everything goes under the cut bc Eddie jumps right to the important question.)

“Is that a butt plug?”

Steve pinches his nose and heaves a long-suffering sigh. Tries to steel himself for the sight awaiting him. Turns and realizes he failed.

Eddie is leaning in the door of his tattoo studio, mouth curled into a cocky grin. Sleeves rolled up, like the cold doesn't bother him at all, revealing lean forearms covered in ink. Snowflakes gathering in his hair, stark white against the dark curls.

“Fucking hilarious,” Steve rolls his eyes, just barely remembers to cap his window marker before he tugs his freezing hands into his armpits. “Don't you have better things to do?”

“Well…” Eddie's eyes crinkle. “I'm not the one drawing a butt plug on my window.”

“It's a pine cone!” Steve sputters, face lighting up like a furnace. It stings in the frosty air. “Jesus fuck- it's supposed to look festive, why would I draw a butt plug?”

Eddie watches him gesture at the cursed creation he has spent the last thirty minutes slaving over with an expression full of fond indulgence. When Steve signed the contract for his quaint little coffee shop, he wondered why there were no other bidders for the place …

“See, I wondered, but who am I to kink shame you?”

He is beginning to suspect the reason now.

“It is a pine cone,” he insists lamely. “It even has the- what d'you call them? The little nub thingies!”

Eddie quirks a brow. Steve turns and looks at his work.

“Oh fuck,” he groans.

Eddie pulls some hair in front of his mouth, but his shoulders are shaking treacherously. Steve thinks he dies, just a little.

“Here, lemme help.”

Eddie's hands are warm as he steals the marker from his stiff fingers. He whips his bandana from his back pocket to wipe the embarrassing evidence of Steve's total lack of artistic talent off the window, and then-

Then he works his magic. Steve watches him bounce to and fro before the glass like a manic blur of creative energy, brow furrowed in concentration, tongue poking out from between plush lips.

When he steps away, Steve doesn't say anything for a second. Too mesmerized by the image Eddie has thrown together with those quick, efficient strokes of his wrist. A steaming mug of coffee, surrounded by a cluster of artfully scattered pine cones, baubles and twinkling lights dangling above.

“Thanks,” he finally manages to croak. “It's… That really wasn't-”

And then Eddie grabs his arm and pushes back the sleeve of his sweater and he forgets what words are.

“Did you…” he squawks when he finally remembers. “Did you just write on my arm with window marker?”

“Yup,” Eddie says proudly, tugging the marker into Steve’s back pocket. “So that you know where to find me. In case you ever need my assistance with any conical objects again.”

He winks, and then he's skipping into his studio. Steve stays outside and stares at the numbers on his arm for a long time. The snow falls around him, but suddenly he isn't cold anymore.

Part 2

[diazsdimples]

Why no I’m not here to encourage a ballet au… why do you ask???

Hippo you absolute menace, why do I put up with you?? Having said that...

When Buck walks into the rehearsal room for the New York City Ballet for the first time, he can’t quite believe he’s made it.

Here he is, standing among some of the best dancers North America has to offer, and they’re treating him like an equal, rather than the usual upturned noses or judgemental looks ballet dancers have often perfected. A group of women stand by the barre, doing some warm-up stretches before rehearsal starts, and at the other end of the mirror stands two of the most beautiful men Buck has ever seen.

They’re fairly evenly matched in height and size, both lean and strong, their muscles not huge like some of the bodybuilders Buck is used to seeing at the gym, but sculpted, with rippling muscles that convey a subtle power, used for performing complicated lifts but looking effortless and graceful as they do so.

The shorter of the two looks up as he enters the room, and Buck’s mouth goes dry as a pair of warm, brown eyes, like two pools of molten chocolate, meet his. This man is gorgeous. His hair is silky and brown, with a few strands that flop carelessly into his face, and he’s got a light shadow of stubble over his jaw. He’s wearing a tight, black tank top that clings to his body like a second skin and shows every ounce of muscle in his arms. There’s a small, circular tattoo, with what looks like some loopy writing on his forearm, almost mirroring the delicate lines on Buck’s own.

Buck is still drinking in the first man when he leans forward and whispers something in the second man’s ear, and he turns around too.

Holy fuck. Does the New York City Ballet hire on looks first and dancing skills second?

This man is taller, probably by a good few inches, and while the first man is soft and gentle looking, this man is sharper, more defined, and radiating raw power in the way his muscles flex beneath his white tank. He’s a little curlier than the other man, with icy blue eyes that pierce into Buck’s own. He smiles at Buck, his nose crinkling in a way that’s nothing short of adorable, and beckons Buck over.

Buck allows his legs to carry himself towards the two men, his brain not coming online enough to even rehearse his opening line, before he’s standing in front of them.

“Uh, hi,” he says eloquently, his mouth feeling drier than the Sahara. “I’m Evan Buckley, new principal. But – uh – everyone calls me Buck,”

“Hey Evan,” Blue Eyes says at the same time Brown Eyes says “Nice to meet you, Buck.”

“I’m Eddie Diaz,” Brown Eyes says, holding his hand out for Buck to shake. “Playing the Nutcracker.”

Buck tries not to make it super obvious how star-struck he is right now. “H-hey Eddie, nice to meet you,” he replies, taking the man’s hand. It’s warm and Eddie squeezes Buck’s hand lightly as he shakes it, his long fingers pressing against Buck’s knuckles.

“Tommy Kinard,” says Blue Eyes, extending his own hand when Eddie releases his. “Rat King.”

Buck can’t entirely believe that here he is, on his first day as a Principal Dancer for the New York City Ballet, and he’s meeting the two male leads. He might need to pinch himself, if it weren’t for the fact that Tommy’s squeezing his hand a little harder than necessary, the slight pain enough to convince Buck that yes, this is really happening.

“You’re new here, aren’t you? Which part have you got?” Eddie asks kindly, leaning against the barre. His arm crosses over with Tommy’s making it look like their arms are almost linked. The way they’re standing, and the familiarity Buck could see in their expressions earlier, he can’t help but wonder if they’re in a relationship. Or good friends, at the very least.

He licks his lips before talking and wills himself not to sound like a total dork.

“I’m playing Cavalier,” he said threading his fingers together as he stands in a bastardisation of 4th position that his old tutor always used to yell at him for. “First time as a lead.”

Tommy smiles softly, his eyes raking over Buck’s body as though sizing him up.

“It’s not so scary once you get to know everyone,” he reassures Buck, placing a hand just above Buck’s elbow.

“Yeah,” Eddie adds, flashing a dazzling grin in Buck’s direction that have his joints turning a little gelatinous. “We’ll show you the ropes.”

Now sit there and think about what you've done

(Gonna cheekily tag a few friends to alert them that I've been bullied into starting a new wip) @theotherbuckley @daffi-990 @bidisasterevankinard @steadfastsaturnsrings @spotsandsocks

[afewproblems]

Something Spicy (a first ever attempt at it!) based on a prompt from this list!

Also! If you were tagged in this but are not in the mood for Spice, please feel free to ignore!!

***

Eddie bites his lip as Steve lifts his hips enough to shimmy his boxers down his legs, the last piece of clothing separating them finally gone.

He takes a second just to stare, taking in the bright red flush that paints Steve's cheeks and the top of his chest, only just visible through the hair.

Steve's eyes are glazed as he blinks once slowly, and smiles up at Eddie; awareness fights against the space that Steve has begun to sink into with just a few words.

"Colour, sweetheart?" Eddie says lowly as he finally reaches out to trace his fingers gently from Steve's cheekbone down to his jaw.

"Green," Steve mumbles after a minute, he blinks again and smiles. His hazel eyes crinkle at the edges just slightly before he brings up a hand to hide them.

Well Eddie can't have that now.

He reaches out again to firmly grasp at Steve's wrists and lifts them up above his head, he presses them down into the pillow, crossing one arm over the other.

"No touching, wanna see your beautiful face sweetheart," Eddie whispers as he leans down and captures Steve's lips in a soft kiss.

He pulls away as Steve opens his mouth to deepen it, "Ah, ah, not yet".

Steve huffs but doesn't move from his position, his chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm as Eddie sits up.

God, I could eat you up. I love you so, Eddie thinks before his brain catches up to the words and his expression twists.

Weird, and way too soon.

They've only been friends for the last six months since everything with Vecna and the Hawkins rebuild, and this thing between them is even more recent, fragile.

They've never really talked about it, only sharing soft kisses and endearments under the cover of night and the quilt on Steve's bed.

How would Eddie even go about doing so?

'Hey man, I think you're a great guy and I love fucking you, and you fucking me, and I think we should continue to do that forever if you'll have me?'

Definitely not.

Instead he says, “I'm gonna count every single one of those moles with my lips".

Close enough.

Eddie watches Steve shift slightly, his cock twitches in interest and the rose blush deepens in colour.

Eddie has ignored it entirely, since the boxers came off, and he has no plans to give it any attention just yet.

"You can stay still for me can't you baby?" Eddie asks slyly, as Steve nods, his chest rises faster now in anticipation as Eddie swings a leg across to straddle his thighs.

Eddie ignores the way his own dick brushes Steve's and the gasp they both let out at the brief contact.

He crawls up on his hands and knees and begins to hunt for freckles and moles with his mouth, leaning down to kiss along Steve's neck.

The kisses are soft at first, the barest press of lips to warm skin.

But before long Eddie is tracing his tongue along Steve's collarbone, connecting each mark in spit as he sucks bruises into tanned skin.

He feels punch drunk at the noises Steve makes below him and his own dick throbs as it continues to barely brush against soft skin and sheets.

Eddie sits up again as he finally finds himself between Steve's legs, which fall open slightly to accommodate him.

"Colour, baby," Eddie breathes out, his voice rough as he leans down and grasps at Steve's hips. He rubs little circles with his thumbs into the sharp points of Steve's hip bones and knows he'll never get tired of this.

"Green, so green," Steve blurts out impatiently as Eddie pushes his hips down into the mattress with a smirk.

"Good," Eddis says softly as he leans down to rub his nose along Steve's shaft, biting back a grin at the small moan Steve lets out.

Eddie places a few feather light kisses around his thighs as he gently taps underneath Steve's legs until he lifts them enough for his knees to be angled, his feet flat against the bed.

"Can you be good for me Stevie," Eddie murmurs, his voice pitches up into a laugh as Steve nods rapidly this time, "I need words lo--"

Eddie closes his mouth with a snap, he watches Steve's face for the smallest change of expression, the barest hint of recognition of the words.

He has to keep a better handle on this, it's too soon to be using words like that.

Steve smiles at him, he looks utterly debauched and thankfully far away as he tries to keep his breathing steady, "wanna be good," he manages to say before his eyes flutter shut.

Eddie breathes a sigh of relief, and grips his thighs with soft fingers, squeezing them once, "don't come until I say so".

"Yes," Steve whispers as Eddie leans down and takes him into his mouth, letting his tongue swirl around the weeping head.

He swallows around Steve as he takes him deeper, Eddie lets go of Steves hips, letting them stutter once, twice, as he fucks into Eddie's mouth.

"Oh, Eddie baby, can I?" Steve asks breathlessly, his hands are still above his head, clenching into fists as though to stop himself from threading his fingers in Eddie's hair.

Eddie hums around Steve, pretending to consider it. He wants nothing more than to let Steve fuck his mouth, to pull his hair and pin him down but today is about Steve. Helping him float away this time.

He shakes his head and pulls himself away, letting the flat of his tongue drag over the underside of Steve's cock.

"Patience sweetheart," he keeps his voice steadier than he feels as he lifts his hands to press on the back of Steve's thighs again, guiding their movement until his knees are pressed into his chest.

"Keep those there," Eddie says firmly, "use that core strength you're always bragging about," he smirks as Steve scoffs at him.

"If you get tired, use your hands baby," Eddie relents after a beat.

Steve nods silently, though his hands remain diligently above his head.

Eddie grins, his heart aching at how much he loves this man, and blows gently over Steve's hole, watching as it clenches at the sensation.

He leans forward pressing soft kisses against Steve that get progressively wetter as he begins to lick around the ring of muscle. Eddie closes his eyes and focuses on the repeated, 'oh, oh, oh,' sounds Steve is making as he pushes the flat of his tongue against him, mimicking the rhythm.

Eddie stops just long enough to suck on two fingers before lowering his hand to press the slick digits slowly inside.

Eddie groans as his fingers disappear into the warm, wet, heat of Steve's hole; he scissors his fingers and shifts to take Steve into his mouth once more. He feels his fingers brush against Steve's prostate and hums at the long punched out groan Steve makes.

"Oh, God," Steve moans loudly, he turns his head to the side and breathes out, "Eddie, I can't--"

Eddie removes his mouth again, "it's okay baby, you're allowed," he says softly before swallowing down Steve's length once more. Eddie groans as he begins to hump the sheets beneath him, desperate for some kind of friction against his neglected length.

Eddie begins to pump his fingers in and out, making sure to stroke his prostate in time to the bobbing of his head. Steve's legs fall open as he finally lowers his arms to thread his fingers through Eddie's hair.

Yes, Eddie thinks to himself as Steve's hips begin to buck up, the heavy cock on his tongue a welcome weight. Eddie's eyes close, uncaring of the fact that Steve is no longer holding himself in position.

Eddie loses himself in the feeling of Steve fucking his mouth, the hard head of his cock repeatedly hitting the back of Eddie's throat, the firm hands holding his head in place, the way Steve begins to babble a mixture of praise and moans is just too much for him.

"Yes baby, oh fuck," Steve pants, "let me fuck you, yes, God--"

Eddie feels his last vestiges of control snap as he tumbles over the edge, cuming into the sheets as Steve keens loudly, tugging Eddie's hair once more as follows after him.

Eddie swallows, continuing to suck and lick at Steve's length until the hands in his hair gently push his face away. Eddie snorts a tired laugh at the whine Steve makes as he removes his fingers.

"How was that," Eddie hums, his head buzzing pleasantly as he flops onto the bed and rolls over onto his back.

"Perfect," Steve sighs, sitting up and flopping beside Eddie, he has the widest smile on his face and Eddie can't look away.

"Did you float baby," Eddie mumbles as a sudden wave of exhaustion hits him, he turns his head to the side to face Steve and blinks slowly, smiling as he feels a soft hand brush his hair away from his forehead.

"Almost," Steve says softly as he leans down to press a kiss to Eddie's nose, "thank you for doing that for me love".

Eddie hums, he's sure that Steve said something important just now, but he can't help but let himself drift, weightless and sated.

"Anything for you Stevie," Eddie yawns as his eyelids flutter once, twice, before they close.

Eddie feels Steve settle beside him; he knows they should get up, clean themselves and change the sheets if they want to avoid a mess in the morning.

But as Steve hums softly, running his hands over Eddie's sides, the gentle rhythm lulling him further into a doze, Eddie lets himself sleep.

Knowing when he wakes, he'll be met with warm hazel eyes and a warmth he hasn't felt with anyone else in a long time.

Permanent tag list (and maybe a few people who I think might like this? Though if you aren't in the mood for spice, please feel free to skip!)

@eriquin @luvinthefreaks @steves-strapcollection @flowercrowngods @steddierthings @strangersteddierthings @outpastthebrakers @steddie-there @stevesbipanic @henderdads

[i-trash-about-things]

a.n.: I can't believe this took me 6 freaking months to write. It definitely doesn't live up for the hype, but for some reason the words just wouldn't flow. In the mean time, I graduated! Actually went to prom! It kinda sucked, I really don't see the hype behind it!

Anyway, enjoy– and thank you for the patience to those that were interested in this story. If you're still interested by the end of this part– well, you'll know for yourself if there will be more lol ;)

Part 1!

Multiple perspectives (3rd and 1st person); Henderson!Reader; GN!Reader; use of Y/N; Billy Hargrove Survived (but he isn't a racist piece of shit); Everyone might be OOC, sorry lol; swearing; light violence; mostly fluff; English is not my first language! Sorry if something doesn’t make sense :p; no beta, we die like Vecna should’ve

4.5k words.

Third Time's The Charm.

Dustin’s day has been good, in his less than humble opinion.

School sucked the same as always, but hey! Everything other than that was actually pretty awesome!

His older sibling popping by on a whim wasn’t a rare occasion, far from it. When they first moved to college, he cried the whole day thinking he would only see them on Christmas, and now it’s like they never moved in the first place!

Well, maybe it’s because of the Upside Down thing and how they almost died about a million times in the last 4 years, but Dustin liked to believe it’s because they just love him very very much.

But, one thing actually did change.

Eddie.

“Dustin, my man, my favorite nerd, what a sight to the sore eye you are right now!”

Speak of the devil.

Him and Eddie have known each other for a while. I mean, how could he not when the metal-head has been his sibling's best friend for almost all his life?

And with the time to get used to each other, plus Dustin’s natural attentiveness and attention to detail, he can read this guy like the cheap rip-off comic of spider-man he is.

Eddie wants something.

“Is that a new upgrade to your walkie? Dude, that looks sick, what does it do?”

“Nothing, it’s just a normal radio actually.”

“Oh.”

A snort leaves his nose. Dustin shakes his head, setting the walkie talkie on the library table before looking up to his friend.

“You really aren’t subtle, my friend.”

“First things first: how dare you. Secondly-” Eddie pushes the nearest chair back, giving him enough space to sit on the old table. The notebook under him crinkles, but he just pushes it aside, clearly in too much of a rush to care about a random person’s notes. “I need your help.”

“If it’s about the whipped cream on Lucas’ backpack and his basketball shoes, it’s too late. The operation is already in motion.”

“Operation- wait, did you put whipped cream on Sinclair’s shoes?”

“What? No I didn’t. You didn’t hear that from me.”

“Mhm.” Eddie just sends Dustin a look, raising an eyebrow with just a very done expression on his eyes, before shaking his head. “You know what, I’m just going to pretend I didn’t hear anything.”

He leans closer, likes he’s about to tell the biggest secret of his life. The notes beneath his butt crumble further.

“It’s about your sibling.”

“Y/N? What they have to do with anything?”

“I’m gonna ask 'em to prom.”

If Dustin were drinking something, he would’ve done a spit take right now.

“WHAT?!”

“SHHHH!” The other school library attendees shush him, all glaring in their direction. Dustin flushes a little, curling into himself, but Eddie doesn’t even flinch.

“I want to take your older sibling to prom, Henderson. Like, real bad.”

“Dude!”

“What?!”

“That’s my sibling!”

“And my best friend! So??”

“So–” Dustin sputters. How does he even respond to that?!

Don’t get him wrong, of all the people he could’ve picked to compete for your hand, Eddie would always be his champion. His two favorite people??? Sign him up!

Doesn’t mean his into it, tho!

“Why?!”

“What do you mean ‘why’?! You’ve ever met ‘em?! They're the coolest most beautiful, and funniest person I’ve ever known! Why wouldn’t I want to take them to prom?”

“No, not that- why the change? I thought you wanted to go with Chrissy??”

That gets a reaction out of him.

Eddie flinches, looking away. He passes a hand through his hair, half hiding himself beneath the brown curls.

“Chrissy… She’s…”

Dustin does not like the hesitation. The kid crosses his arms over his chest, squinting up at Eddie with distrust.

“Look, I’m all for you going after my big sibling–”

“Really? That wasn’t what it looked like two seconds ago.”

Dustin squints further, frowning, and Eddie groans.

“Just keep going.”

“As I was saying, I don’t mind you taking my big sibling to prom… If you actually mean it.”

It’s his turn to frown, a mirror of Dustin’s expression, but in confusion and a little bit of offense.

“What? Why wouldn’t I mean it?”

“You were just drooling over Chrissy, like, two days ago! I get you getting rejected, but don’t use them as a rebound, dude!”

“What?!”

“SHHHHH!” Strike two, the people around them shush them both again. Dustin doesn’t flinch this time, both him and Eddie a bit too enthralled in the topic at hand.

“How could you say that?! You know how much I care about Y/N!”

“I know that, but I also know how much they cares about you.”

“What does that has to do with anything?”

“Uh- Literally everything? What, you think you can just go and ask them all willy nilly to go to prom with you like it’s no big deal, and they won’t feel like it’s a big deal? Thye care, dude! What you say matters to them!”

Something in that makes Eddie pause, breath hitching on the tip of his tongue. He knew that, of course… Didn’t he?

His mind flashes back to the three years ago, just in the middle of prom season.

“Y/N Henderson, you did not–”

“Oh but I did! I did, despite it all!”

Eddie feels the bright afternoon sun on his back, the ever warming spring air making his hair and their hair flutter in the wind.

Today has been a weird day. His friends all seemed either jittery or smug, like they know something he doesn’t, a joke he didn’t get the punchline yet.

But the weirdest thing? His best friend wasn’t waiting for him by his parking spot.

At the end of class, he found a pretty envelope on his locker, attached to it a blue little flower– one of the few he recognizes. Forget-me-not’s.

“6 years sure go by fast. We’ve been through a lot in that time, didn’t we? And we will go through a lot more shit, knowing us like I do.

I was hoping you’d indulge me on a little game, just for old times sake.

Check the supply closet closest to you.”

From then on, he went on a surprisingly elaborate scavenger hunt. Passing through closets, to bathrooms, even checking in with his friends when the little clues told him to. Surely enough, each one handed him a new letter, and each one had a soft and excited smile on their lips.

After a good half hour of running around the school like a headless chicken, Eddie had accumulated enough clues to fill both his pockets and enough flowers for a small bouquet. The last letter sits on his hand as he dashes around the halls, a big smile on his lips.

“Ok, I promise this is the last one– for real this time, I swear.

This had been a rough year on you, but I was hoping to send it off with a bang. One last middle finger to the world before I have to leave you behind to fend for yourself in the lion’s den.

So, Edward Munson, meet me by the woods, in our usual spot.”

“Henderson, you absolute maniac!” Eddie all but jumps over the picnic table, practically throwing himself on his best friends arms. They don't even blink, only opening up and holding him. Firm, steady and warm. Their laughter feels like electricity and care all at once over his skin, and he breaks into goosebumps.

“Did you like it? Had any fun?”

“Hell yeah I did! How long have you been planning this, dude?!”

“Ah, who cares about that?” They flick their wrist, like trying to get rid of an annoying fly. Eddie’s way too used to their dismissive and nonchalant nature at this point, so he just laughs and hugs them close again.

“Jesus Christ, Henderson, what did I ever do to deserve you?”

He can’t see, but their smile softens. The hold on him tightens, and they buries their face into the mess of his hair.

“You’re you. That’s more than enough.”

After a beat, they finally pull away from the other. Eddie doesn’t even questions at their dazed gaze, used to it at this point, even if he never truly knew the reason behind it. He squeezes their shoulders, still a little incredulous at the situation. Taking his little moment of silence as an opportunity, Y/N steps back and takes one last flower from their pocket. It’s a little bit beaten up after being squashed in the hug, but it makes Eddie’s heart feel tight anyway.

“Look, I know this hasn’t been an easy year for you. You’ve been through a lot of shit, dealing with shitheads like Carver and Hagan, and that you didn’t graduate, but… But I wanted to make the end a good memory, you know? Eat junk food, dress fancy for once in our lives, pretend that we’re the protagonists for once, you know?”

They take a deep breath, eyes locked on the little flower on their hand. It’s impossible to lift their head and finally gaze into the eyes of their best friend. The love of their life.

Bah, call 'em dramatic. They're already way too deep into this cheesy bullshit to care.

“So. Eddie. Eds. Angel. Would… You, maybe… Like to… Gotopromwithme??”

Well that was smooth.

Still, it doesn’t seem like he cares about their awkward stumbling.

Instead, he just pulls them into one more hug, laughing like a maniac.

“Yes! Of course I’d like to, you dumbass! You’re my best friend!”

And those words make their heart races and breaks, all at once.

They let the little blue flower fall to the ground, unbothered by the numbness on their fingertips.

“I know. You’re my best friend too, Eds.”

Eddie shakes his head, locks brushing against his nose at the intensity. This is a crisis for another time.

“I know, believe me. But I’m telling the truth! I don’t care about Chrissy, I legitimately want them to be my date!”

Dustin raises an eyebrow, feeling the genuine longing in Eddie’s tone. It’s a surprising match to his siblings, every time they talks about Eddie. That lingering bitter-sweetness in the end of the sentence, the longing in each and every word. He’s heard them rant and ramble, on and on, about the metal-head more time than Dustin feels like counting, he knows that tone. It’s a perfect match.

So, he sighs, leaning his head back against the library’s chair to the point his cap almost falls off.

“Fine, I’ll help.”

“Yes!”

“SHHHHH!”

…

Today was… Weird.

Maybe it was the way the sun was beating down my face, too hot for a spring day, maybe it was the fact that the 7-11 I passed by didn’t have my favorite slushy flavor, but something just seemed… A little off today. Like someone just tilted the world a little bit to the left.

I take a long drag from the cigarette between my lips, watching the shining sun from my spot by my car. Sitting beside me is none other than Billy Hargrove, the same glare up at the sky as mine.

It’s always funny hanging out with Billy by the school’s grounds. We used to beat each other up in this same parking lot, about two years ago! And now look at us, sharing a can of coke beneath the spring sky like two dads waiting for their kids after football practice.

“I can hear your brain about to cook up some weird shit to say, Henderson. Please keep it to yourself.”

I don’t even blink at his harsh tone, putting a sugary sweet expression and leaning to lay my head on his shoulder.

“Awn, I know you love my commentary.”

He’s quick to brush me off, with not nearly as much strength as he used to a few years ago.

“I’d rather hear the screams of children.”

All I can do is snort, laughing slightly before taking a sip of the can between us.

Billy is one of the only people acting somewhat normal today, same snarky responses that once made me lunge for his throat and same pissed off frown.

He’s also one of the few people I trust the most, funnily enough. What can I say, he’s seen the worst in me and somehow still sticks around- probably because I’ve seen the worst in him too, but still. Maybe that trust is what made me press the halfway burnt cigarette into the ground and turn to look back at him.

“Hey, dude?”

“Hm.”

“Is it just me or is everyone kinda off today?”

And to my surprise, he doesn’t immediately respond. Instead, he raised his own cigarette to his lips, taking a long and deep drag.

“Nope, just you.”

“Pfft, weird, something tells me your lying?”

“Something? What, like voices in your head? Damn, I knew you were crazy, Henderson, but this is new ground.”

“Billy.”

“… Hmph.”

He stuffs his hands in his jeans pockets, sunglasses tilting down just enough to see the look he sends me. I shake my head and he relaxes. There’s a small pause after that. He flicks the cigarette ash off, before glancing to me again.

“Look, it’s nothing you have to worry about, ok?”

I can’t help but chuckle at his words, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Last time you said that, you were possessed by a god damned spider monster thing.”

“Yeah, but this time I’m not. So chill out.”

Isn’t he sweet?

I chew on the inside of my cheek, breathing in slowly before letting out a long long sigh.

“Fine.” A pause. But then I turn to look at him again, with the most serious expression I can. “But if you are possessed again-”

“Fuck off.”

“Pfft-”

The loud ringing of the school bell quickly brings our attention back to the front doors of Hawkins High. Like clockwork, they open and the sea of teenagers roll out, flooding the parking lot. My eyes drift between faces, looking for any sign of my favorite club, but the first thing I catch is a familiar cap and a mess of red hair.

Dustin immediately runs up to me, his cap hitting me on his attempt at a dive hug. Max is not so far from him, but instead of the affection attack she just flips Billy the bird… which he quickly reciprocates, smirking.

The two types of siblings.

“Hey, Junior.” The sarcastic and rougher edge to my voice quickly melts off, turning to the normally sweeter and more relaxed tone reserved only for my little brother. Dustin immediately turns to me, smiling like he always does- but, of course, there’s something off.

“Hello there, older sibling figure.”

… ok.

I just let out a chuckle, a little weirded out. See? It can’t be just me, everyone’s acting all skittish for some reason. Did I miss the memo?

Max pushes Dustin’s cap over his eyes before he has the chance open his mouth again, her eyes literally screaming for him to shut up. Then, she turns to me.

“If he hurts you, tell me. I’ll kick his ass.”

“… What???”

The hell’s going on?

Dustin clears his throat, pushing his hat back and sending Max a half hearted glare.

“As I was about to say- Eddie told me to give you this.”

From the depths of his many pockets, he pulls a… letter? A note, better said, scribbled in a chicken scratch of a writing I know way too well.

Before I can open it, he quickly pulls me so I look at him again.

“I’m gonna catch a ride with Max today I’ll see you later ok bye-”

And he practically drags Max to Billy’s car… which she weirdly let’s him do. I look back at the blonde next to me… and he doesn’t even blink at the interaction, stepping on the rests of his cigarette before turning away from me without a word.

What…. the hell.

As the familiar camaro drives off the parking lot, leaving me to my lonesome by my truck, I glance down at the note in my hands. Crumpled notebook paper, with the little bits used to wrap around the spiral still attached, and that familiar handwriting.

After a huff of amusement, I open up the letter.

“Greetings, dear adventurer! It is I, Eddie the Pardoned (we really need to workshop that title).

This is your formal request to join in on an adventure through the ever changing land of Hawkins High school. Walk across the mighty and dangerous hallways where jocks once slammed our faces into lockers, or traverse into the terrifying lands we call the gym showers!

Follow the riddles and clues, and if you’re lucky, the gates of a whole new adventure shall open to those with brave and worthy hearts.

Good luck.”

“Dramatic dork.” I mumble beneath my breath, but the smile on my lips can only be described as disgustingly smitten.

I look over the note again, flipping it between my fingers. Surely enough, more writing in the back.

“Those who trail my path are the best liars, but also the most emotional of artists. The many nights you’ve spent between my walls, you were never quite yourself. Oh, wow, he really wasn’t kidding on making riddles, huh?”

I can’t help but let out a chuckle, raising my eyes from the paper in my hands and looking around the parking lot. There’s a lot of people walking around right now, most speeding to get home after a long long Friday, but my eyes don’t catch a single hint of anyone using the familiar Hellfire shirt. Which is definitely weird, they’re normally the first ones to leave the school. Still, no sign of Jeff, or Bryan, or Gareth, much less Ed.

I look back down to the riddle.

“The many nights you’ve spent between my walls” So it’s a place, then? One I’ve been before, if Eddie isn’t being a little shit and using “you” because he thinks it sounds better.

“Those who trail my path are the greatest liars, but most emotional of artists.” Greatest liars? And most emotional of artists. Well, if it’s a place, related to art, then the art room? But then why the lying?

“You weren’t quite yourself.” Wasn’t… quite myself. Hm.

A place, probably one at school since I doubt he would’ve gone so extra as to go around the entire city, related to art and lying. “Wasn’t quite yourself.”

…

Wait, the drama club?

Art of lying- could he mean acting? A room related to acting in which I’ve been to before.

The drama club, at D&D nights!

My feet are moving before my brain is, crumpled up note being carefully stuffed into my pants pockets.

…

Not far…

“The bird has taken flight, over.”

“Dustin, will you stop with the codenames?! Just- Just get into position! Over!”

…

How many damn riddles can this man write??? I must’ve collected more than twelve by now!

There’s a small collection of notes in my left hand, my pockets too filled up to stuff any more of them without damaging. My shoes squeak against the floors of the mostly empty school, echoing in my ears as I run from room to room, classroom to classroom.

I swear, If this is some sort of elaborate prank, I’m going to kick Eddie’s ass until Halloween comes.

I let out a groan leaning down to reach another, stuck beneath my– well, not mine, it hasn’t been mine since I graduated– seat at the iconic Hellfire Club lunch table. When I turn to the back, I’m surprised to see there isn’t a riddle this time, no little set of verses to greet me. So, after a small hum of interest, I fold it open.

“If you’ve reached this point of your quest, fair knight, I’m proud to tell you your prize awaits you! (Because I’m not like SOME people who do FAKE OUTS THREE TIMES IN A ROLL)

All that’s left is for you to come and get it. Your king awaits in our usual spot.”

-E.M.

“Pfft– my king?” I can barely pay attention to the soft laugh that leaves my lips, chest too warm and filled with cotton to notice. Dork.

Still, I just set the note with the rest, walking to the nearest exit with a smile on my lips.

I’m still have no idea what Eddie is planning with all of this. Despite the dozen plus notes, he hasn’t gave me a single of hint for the reason of this scavenger… Hunt.

…wait.

I mean, it’s not– it’s not possible, right?

He was talking about inviting Chrissy less than a week ago!

Nah, nah, yeah, it’s not… He wouldn’t. Not me, anyway.

…

Well I just made myself sad.

A groan leaves my lips as I shake my head, hair flowing around with the motion before bouncing and stopping, strands sticking to my eyelashes. Enough with the self pity. I’m better than this. Whatever it is that Eddie has planned to me is going to be awesome.

The hallways echoes with my steps, the sound of my combat boots squeaking in the shiny tile flooring being the only sound as I leave the school. It’s late afternoon at this point, the sun starting to set as everything is painted golden. The walk through the woods is longer than I remember, the late spring wind ruffling through my clothes. After a while, I’m reaching the clearing…

And there’s no one here…?

“Eddie?” I spin in place, looking in between the trees for any sign of the silhouette I know better than my own. It’s quiet here, with the exception of the singing birds and early crickets. I stuff my hands in my pockets, and my brows twitch in worry. “Did I take too long…?”

When I pull them back, one of them holds the last hint. It’s impossible to be anywhere else– he literally said our usual spot, and this is it, isn’t it? Unless my first suspicion was right, and he really meant to spread these around the town– wait, no, then why would he set them up around school? What am I m–

“BOO– OW!”

“EDDIE?!”

My knuckles sting, heart beating louder than a drum as I stare at my fallen best friend, cradling his own face. Immediately I reach for him, falling to my knees by his side.

“Jesus Christ, Munson, you scared the shit out of me! I’m so sorry– Oh, god dammit, sweetheart, c’mere, c'mere… Let me see…” I gently tug his hands from his face, touches practically feather light and with as much care as I can channel. He laughs all the while, completely unbothered by the forming bruise on his cheek.

“Jesus Christ, Henderson– You pack quite the punch! Holy crap, I think you dislocated my jaw–”

“Stop saying shit like that, you’ll manifest it.” I chuckle under my breath (but do check his jaw, making sure everything is in place and I didn’t punch one of his teeth in.). “Why the hell you sneaked up on me like that? What thought process made you think that was a good idea??”

“I don’t know!” He laughs, falling limp on the grass while looking up at me. His smile is almost dopey, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he said he just got baked. He doesn’t smell like weed, tho. Just smoke and cologne, the one that makes me wish I could bury my nose into his neck and just live there. “I thought it’d be a good idea? All I needed to do was distract you for a little while!”

“Distract me?” I snort, brows tilting in a playful frown. “From what?”

“Shit–” And at the sound of my brother’s cursing, I lift my eyes from my best friend’s face.

What do I find if not the rest of the Hellfire club, haphazardly stacked on each other’s shoulders putting up a huge banner on the branches of the nearest threes. Jeff has Mike on his shoulders, while Bryan has Justin– and Lucas and Gareth watch a few steps away, clearly trying to not bring attention to themselves as I turn to them.

“Michael, if you ruin my jacket with your dirty ass shoes–”

“I’m trying not to! Stop moving!”

“Guys! Guys, I’m gonna fall! BRYAN–”

“You’re not gonna fall, Dustbin– stop being a pussy and just tie the goddamn thing.”

“What the hell…?” I mumble, even more confused than when I found the kids sneaking Eleven into Mike’s basement.

Eddie doesn’t answer me with anything but a cackle, getting up to his feet and jogging up to the rest of the club. His grin is so wide his dimples are lost between smile lines, brown eyes shining in the late afternoon sun that warms my skin and cheeks. He skids to a stop under the banner, not even waiting to check if it’s tied up properly before tugging the bottom and unrolling it.

‘COME DITCH PROM WITH THIS FREAK?’

And the arrows badly painted on the bottom point directly at him, that turns around to beam my way with his smile brighter than the sun.

…

I don’t know if the guys have fallen silent or if I just gone deaf, but I don’t have the mental power to look. It’s like the whole world turned… quiet.

My heart can’t seem to choose between skipping beats or skidding to stop. I can feel my skin tingling, my knuckles going from stinging to burning. As does the back of my neck and the bottom of my gut.

I read the words, over and over again, shocked…

“Is this…” My tongue feels like it’s knotted, tied and shipped to the other side of the country. No words could ever describe– whatever the hell I’m feeling right now. “Are you… Is– Are you for real??”

“Yeah.” He chuckles, the warm orange lighting almost making it look like his cheeks are dyed a soft red. His smile is confident, almost cocky and playful as he looks down at me. “As real as a I can be.”

My mouth feels drier than a desert, and I swallow harshly. I can’t turn my eyes from him, like I’m transfixed… which, in someways, I am.

He has hypnotized me, a puppet on his strings.

I feel starstruck.

Eddie takes my silent as a go ahead, because after standing under the banner for a second, he slowly walks to me again. For some reason, I don’t even think to get back on my feet until he’s almost right in front of me, his head obscuring the sun as if he’s the only star I need.

“Henderson,” He says, the smirk on his lips almost sheepish. “I’ve got to apologize. I’ve been… kind of a shit best friend for the last couple years. You’ve been my paladin, my white knight, the voice of reason when I wasn’t thinking and I didn’t even thank you properly.”

He extends his hand, the black stone in his ring finger catching the sunlight from his smile.

“So let me make it up to you… Will you let me take you with me to not-prom?”

My throat closes up, my eyes sting, but my smile is as bright as the moon.

“Yeah, I will.”

And I take his hand, letting him pull me to my feet.

taglist! @eddiesgirlforever @plk-18 thx for the support and the patience!! :D

[undead-supernova]

This Love is a Shrouded Mystery / Masterlist

Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10

plot: welcome to your well-anticipated album release party! you couldn't be happier...right?

Pairings: modernrockstar!Eddie x fem!popstar!Reader (curvy!reader, bisexual!reader)

Warnings: bro there's so much angst I'm sorry, mention of smoking & alcohol

wc: 5k

note: I made the album cover/tracklist and wrote all of the lyrics mentioned in this chapter and I'm super proud of it! Thank you for reading my hard work hehhehehehee

ALSO DO NOT REPOST THESE LYRICS ANYWHERE ! Thank yew

He hated all the tiny things.

The way you crinkled your nose every time The Beatles came on. How you held your acoustic guitar like it was a delicate creature. The nights he would be up late practicing, only to find you passed out with your mouth slightly ajar and snoring. The mornings he spent listening to you making little sounds in your sleep, as if you were so close to saying something but didn’t know how. Your poetry and your music and your scent and your stupid smile you got whenever you looked at him and how grateful he’d been when he first noticed. 

And he really didn’t hate it at all.

He just missed you.

It was fucking torture, being away from you. He sat up, night after night, wondering what you were doing. How you felt now. If you wanted him back. If he was better off without you. If you could ever speak cordially and what that would cost.

As if he truly cared about the answer or the consequences.

Eddie just missed you.

You stared at yourself in the floor-length mirror, looking over your outfit for tonight. Trying not to suck in your stomach, trying to let yourself be the person that you wanted to be. 

A spaghetti-strapped crop top with Madonna-Whore Complex stitched in white across the breasts. Short shorts just to say Fuck You. Block-heeled boots laced up to your knees. All dolled up with a diamond necklace and thin rings. A velvet choker with a broken heart pendant in the middle.

There you were, a vision in pink. 

There you were, a shell of the person you used to be.

Maybe it would be better to play a role tonight.

But nothing was able to halt the worry, halt the anxiety that coursed through your veins. 

That last night, with your eyes glistening with grief, you’d told him you had to go into hiding. That you needed to get away from the public eye. That he couldn’t come with you. But he’d seen pictures of you since, albeit a bit blurry, running in and out of the recording studio in New York City.

There was an edge to your outfits now, with a touch more lipstick and heavier eye shadow. Changed your hair and painted your nails anything but your usual pink. Your face, the one that once held a permanent smile for the press, now hardened. Blank expressions. No smile, no feigned light in your eyes.

It was like you were wearing some kind of armor.

It was like watching someone trying to adapt to their surroundings.

Flailing, slipping.

Trying to prove to everyone else they can do it without thinking about the consequences of their actions.

Eddie could only hope you wouldn’t let yourself drown in the process.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you said for the third time in the last ten minutes.

If anyone had a goddamn braincell, they could see that you weren’t good. But this had been the last few months for you. Doing whatever anyone asked. Staying busy. In and out of the studio so often that it became your second home. You honestly couldn’t count how many times you’d fallen asleep—you got more there than when you were home anyways.

How could you when the only thing you saw behind your eyes were crashing waves, the roar of the boat as it pulled you further and further away from the life you desperately wished you were still living? You wrote and wrote and wrote, trying to make sense of it all. Trying to figure out how to apologize. How to profess your love. How to feel any semblance of desire to say goodbye.

Your label had been shocked when you’d gotten the album done so quickly after months of producing nothing—especially calling around and getting Halsey, Lucy Dacus, and Janelle Monaé to feature. Not to mention Maisie Peters who’d actually reached out to you. It was a match made in heaven, an album stitched and woven together by the bitterest fate. 

The label gladly rolled everything into production, insisting that you do as much promotion as you could. So, you were a little money machine, doing bland Instagram reels and Tiktoks, practicing your smile in between takes. You were fine to be a puppet. You’d done everything they wanted you to, right? What’s a little bit more?

What’s better than tightening the collar on your losing dog?

            “Can you get that done for me, sweetie?”

            “It would be so nice if you could just do this one thing.”

            “You know, the fans would love it if…”

            “We’d be grateful if you just…”

“You look tired.”

You turned to Este, noticing her raised eyebrow and crossed arms. The past few minutes had been spent zoning out, trying to keep yourself from thinking too hard. But it only made things worse because all you could do was remember why you were trying so hard not to think. Your friends knew better, but you hated admitting to it. 

“Just trying to wake up the excitement,” you lied.

“For yourself or for the label?” Becky asked.

You glanced over at the door before back at her. “Yes.”

“You got this, okay?” Mary encouraged, rubbing your back. “You’ll feel better once you get there. You know you will.”

“Yeah, you’re right. At least you guys are here.”

“We’d never miss it.”

A pang of grief washed through you at the reminder of someone who would most definitely miss tonight.

Eddie knew what tonight was—and he could’ve sworn it was going to kill him. Nothing hurt him more than not celebrating your album release with you. He was planning to show up and support you the best he could. Show you off. Make sure you felt as celebrated as you could be because you were so amazing.

But here he was, back in Wayne’s house for the weekend. Laying low, talking to the walls as if Wayne could hear him. Screaming at the ceiling for someone to give him a reason to make sense as to why his wounds were still bleeding. Even after five months.

Bouncing his knees on the edge of the guest bed, growing more and more anxious as the night fell. Going in and out of the back porch, cigarette after cigarette. Hoping and praying that Wayne was a ghost and was able to talk to him through the windchimes hanging by the front door. Feeling sick when they hadn’t moved. Not even once.

Fuck, Eddie should be there with you. He should be by your side.

Instead, he was ashing another cigarette and reaching for the Garfield mug hanging on the wall. Poured the last few sips of Jack Daniels left on the kitchen counter. Trudged back into the guest room.

Tried not to cry.

You were trying not to cry.

The party was spectacular, with all your favorite foods laid out and cake and your favorite music and your friends and, and, and…

It was everything you could ask for from tonight, but nothing you’d actually asked for. Clara had been sneaky, making sure that you assumed the livestream started two hours before it actually did. Brought you to this fancy restaurant, all decked out in themed balloons and pictures of you. A Congratulations banner and a big bottle of champagne for you to pop.

And you were happy, you really were. But there was just something that overwhelmed you about it all, something weighing on you. Something eating at your stomach, making it nearly impossible to eat or even talk correctly.

Scott kept you grounded the most, always giving you a word or two of encouragement. For the last five months, he’d been cautious of you. You knew it even if he never said it. Him and his wife, Rebecca, made sure to offer you a place to stay when New York started to feel like a stranger. And hiding out in Tennessee was never a bad idea, ending up getting a third home near him, just outside of Nashville.  

Tonight was no different. It was in the way he offered you food, asked if you needed some more water. If you looked even remotely uncomfortable, Scott was there to direct you somewhere else. Kept whispering that you were doing great. Kept reassuring you that your album was amazing. That you were amazing. That it was all going to be okay.

And it was a daydream, a surreal experience you were still getting used to after five years slowly rising into the public eye. Now here you were releasing your third album, knowing in your bones that this was your best work yet. 

And everyone was being so nice.

And the party was beautiful.

And you looked beautiful.

And…

And Eddie wasn’t there. 

He wasn’t anywhere these days, actually. It was like he had vanished entirely. There were no paparazzi pictures, no fan sightings. Even People Magazine had him on the front cover literally saying, “Bad Boy Eddie Munson Mysteriously Disappears from Public Eye.” You were uncertain if he’d ever be seen again. And you knew it was your fault. All of it was.

What felt the strangest was how the internet was still speculating whether or not you and Eddie broke up. It had been five months and you hadn’t told your publicist to confirm it. Didn’t even speak of it. 

The most peculiar thing was…neither had Eddie. There was nothing for anyone to do but question why the two of you hadn’t been spotted in public together even once.

Maybe one day you’d feel strong enough to bury this relationship.

Today definitely wasn’t that day.

And tonight definitely wasn’t it either.

But your album was all was about Eddie.

Everyone would know it.

And you just had to hope that one person out there would listen to it for the music and not for your real-life experiences.

But you guessed that was just how things would have to be.

So, you put on a smile and told yourself to get over it.

Smile for the cameras.

Come up with every way to deflect.

Since you’d broken up, it seemed that your label had set up a livestream for the fans to listen to the album with you at the same time. Experience it together. Get to send in questions. Get to connect. Eddie thought that was sweet, knowing how much you enjoyed talking to your fans. 

And he knew he shouldn’t, but he really considered hopping on.

Was it a little weird for him to tune into the listening party? 

Maybe.

But he wanted to hear the album, wanted to hear the songs you’d barely shown him when you were together. You were always so shy with your music you wrote for him—which was fair. He did the same thing, keeping any and all projects about you a secret. Hell, the new record set to drop next month was done in the last five, his fingers unable to do anything other than race up and down the neck. Stuffing his pick between his lips as he wrote and wrote and wrote. Tried to write himself out of whatever this black hole was that was starting to swallow him. 

And now here he was, ready to hear what you had to say.

Sighing, he grabbed his laptop.

But maybe you were better off without him.

Maybe this was all for a reason and everything just had to happen this way. It would be a nice thought, right? A nice explanation for the twisting of your gut as you set up for the livestream. Standing on a pink stage, practicing your smile one last time before the cameras got the shot juuust right. Took a step to the right to show off a poster with the album cover on it.

All you could think as they counted down from five was, I hope Eddie is watching.

When Eddie saw you, he knew he’d fucked up already.

You were radiant, always a vision in pink. Always a vision, period.

The album cover had the name “Madonna-Whore Complex” with a picture in the center of bunched up silk—pink, of course. The same color you were wearing. The same color Eddie had yearned to wrap in his arms and make breakfast for. 

And when Eddie heard your voice, his stomach flipped.

“So,” you started. “Before we even get to the tracks, I wanted to kinda explain the album title. I know people got a little weird about it, which is fair.”

Eddie could tell that you absolutely did not find that fair.

“But I think that we live in a society that is so obsessed with a woman’s place. If she’s happy with herself and comfortable with her sexuality, she must be seen as a villain or a whore. There’s no room for her to be a good person or even able to truly be in love.”

Something tugged at Eddie’s chest at the sound of you mentioning being in love. If only you’d said that to him five months ago. If only those words had left your lips, he’d have gotten on his hands and knees to make you stay.

But you hadn’t.

“It seems that you cannot be one or the other. Either you’re this harlot who runs through people like it’s nothing or you must be this chaste woman who is only allowed to be idle in the corner. I think that I’ve always been put in this position, and, with the content of this album, I feel like I’m able to both be satirical about those accusations and show the vulnerability of, um.” He watched your eyes dart away nervously before coming back. “The vulnerability of how that has affected my personal life and my personal relationships.”

“Oh, and I really love the back cover,” you said with a wide grin, shifting the subject. “Especially the track list and the font and, oh my god, the people I collaborated with? Incredible artists, right? I just feel really excited for you guys to hear it in a few minutes.”

It was then that he remembered he hadn’t looked at the track list, too anxious at the thought of you referencing anything about him on there. But of course, you did. What else would this album be about? Some other guy? He knew better than to speculate anything like that.

His heart began to race as he found it all laid out for him already, his words being spat back out at him. Something True. Could You Say the Same? Acceptance Speech. Trade You for the World. Could’ve Fooled Me.

Eddie’s stomach twisted, queasy with the exact anxiety that he’d spent the last few months trying to prevent. But he couldn’t run away from this. He was already here, watching you nearly trip over your heels in real time. Reading the titles out, each one feeling like a prison cell built just for him.

Shakily, you stated, “Okay, everyone. Let’s start the album.”

Took a deep breath.

Closed your eyes.

Eddie took a deep breath.

Closed his eyes.

And listened.

         “Okay, my pretty boy…now move!”

Eddie felt like he was losing his ability to breathe. Track after track, jumbled with lyrics all meant for him. All written for him. Words upon words of poetry that told him how much you missed him and how guilty you fucking felt and how you just went ahead and chose the world over him and, dear god, it was all too much for him.

Grief settled in his chest at every line that he called his favorite.

Okay, Now Stop!

          “Okay, now stop!

         We're dancing dirty to The Beatles and the Stones.

         Okay, now stop!

         You're dancing pretty asking me to lead you home."

The Bisexual Slut (featuring Halsey)

         “This one boy whimpers on his knees

         Twenty girls beg to finally taste me 

         If I’m so greedy, so damn needy

         Then why does their love come so easy?”

My Body, Your Choice

         “Should I base my worth off your fickle insecurities?

         Take a scalpel to my skin to justify your animosity? 

         If I’d known my body was stained with impurity

          I would’ve begged my mother to deliver me with modesty

         But I wouldn’t change a goddamn thing

         Fuck you, I’ll never change a thing.”

Something True

         “Tell me a story, one where love always dies

         Say it with finality in your glassy brown eyes

         Thread the needle to weave through our fate

         Knowing the outcome, you still beg me to stay.”

Madonna-Whore Complex

         “My halo slipped, and my limbs are sore

         But his head seems to stay in between my legs

         I’m wrapped around his fingers as they choke my neck

         I’m his sweetheart, his princess, his saccharine whore.”

The Mess (You Once Called Yours)

         “And your fingerprints stain this house

         Baby, I’m haunted by your phantom touch

         Oh, now I’m screaming and pleading, growling and howling,

         ‘Please end this agony, my love, it’s all too much.’”

Your Residential Coward

         “Guess she’ll never really let me live that down

         Throwing daggers at my portrait now that I’m gone 

         And now that I finally see my tilted crown 

         It turns out I was the jester all along.”

Could You Say the Same?

         “Simple questions come with simple answers

         That’s why I sew my mouth shut

         The moment I saw you, wild necromancer

         Devotion gnawed at my gut.”

Synonymous (featuring Lucy Dacus)

         “Sucking in my stomach in attempt to survive

         It’s like I’m fifteen again

         All crooked teeth, low self-esteem, and love-deprived

         Only coping with a wilted pen.”

My Gentleman

         “You’ll never let me look away, that is the cerulean dream

         Could be your future wife if we let our consciousness stream

         And I confess I don’t think that would be too much to hope for

         So keep talking like that, let the wine pour, pour, pour.”

Acceptance Speech (featuring Janelle Monáe)

         “In the modern age, a sacrifice is already made

         The moment that you’ve made a choice

         But, baby, the problem always chooses herself

         And suddenly she has lost her voice.”

Trade You for the World

         “I stood in sepia tones while you bled electric crimson 

         Built the motivation before I built the scene

         Led the poets astray, bathed them in patient indecision

         Now I sit in vignettes of truth, desire what was in between.”

Back to the Beginning

         “City after city, glazed in momentary dignity, 

         I chased the prophecy of my becoming

         And, dear god, if I could tuck my tail between my legs

         I’d run us right back to the beginning.”

Could’ve Fooled Me (featuring Maisie Peters)

         “And we’re dancing around each other tonight

         Elevators built like confessionals

         Desperate to blanket myself in transparency

         I wanna say, ‘Pretty boy, you’re sensational.

         We weren’t the only freaks anyhow

         But how could anyone not love you then?

         And how could they not love you now?’”

Eddie watched you dance and party. Vaguely answer the questions about what certain lyrics meant. Focused on the sound more than the overall meanings. Thanked everyone for giving you this celebration and how you were very grateful for this opportunity.

And, peculiarly, you were handed a new acoustic guitar, soft pink and sparkling. Your name written in calligraphy down the neck.

“Um, so since this is a special night,” you said while trying to move your white capo down to the third fret. “I wanted to play a special song that didn’t make the album. It just didn’t fit the rest of the album’s vibe, so I cut it.” 

You laughed and Eddie knew he was the only one who could notice it was out of nerves. You tested the strings, making sure everything was in tune. 

“But I wanted to play it for you guys if that’s okay?” Laughing again, you shook your head. “I hope everyone said yes, otherwise this would be so embarrassing.”

You leaned into the microphone, glancing up at the camera as if you were making direct eye contact with Eddie and Eddie alone.

“It’s called Questionnaire.”

The chords were simple. 

C, Em, Am.

F, G, C.

It rang out soft, sweet. Albeit a bit sad.

         He noticed the way you chewed on your lip before you started, finding your groove.

         “Do you think about the way we live without sanctuary?

         How the fates wrap their hands around our throats, cutting off our breath?

         Do you think about the way we live without sanctuary?

         How there’s no guarantee when it’s over there’ll be anything left?”

Eddie felt a sickness wash over him as he heard you sing directly to him. You were right. It was different from the rest of the album.

He tried to gauge how you were feeling, knowing damn well the only way he could was through the music itself. How the change in chords matched the change in your emotions. 

G, Am, F.

         “Oh, oh, oh.”

Am, G, F.

         “Oh, oh, oh.”

The camera pulled in closer to your face, as if they knew that Eddie was watching. Waiting. Pathetically desperate to hear what you had to say to him. 

         “Do you wonder if there’s any chance that this was all just a dream?

         But there’s no fucking way you can’t hear me calling your name.

         Do you wonder if there’s any chance we could wipe ourselves clean?

         But there’s no fucking way to explain the way I’ve been claimed.”

You repeated the Ohs, belting out the last set before you changed the sound completely. 

New chord patterns. New set of emotions. Harsh strumming, the sound growing louder and louder as frustration filled your voice.

         “Do you know the clouds darken whenever you’re away?

         Convinced myself that my storm would worsen if I’d stayed.

         God, I need you now to answer my revelation.

         Is there any dignity in self-preservation?”

You repeated the line again, sounding angrier than before.

         “Is there any dignity in self-preservation?”

The buildup faded away, the rough strumming turning light again as the chords of the verses returned. There was a small instrumental as the camera pulled out to show you on your pink throne, surrounded by the pink balloons and holographic streamers.

You were alone.

Eddie could just barely make out the tears trickling down your face as you began to strum each chord once.

         “Do you think about the way we lived without sanctuary?

         How we fought and you fought for me until I gave it all up?

         I think about the way I live without your sanctuary.

         How there’s no guarantee I’ll ever fall in love again.”

You sighed and sniffled softly before repeating it. 

         “How there’s no guarantee I’ll ever fall in love again.”

Despite no one being in the shot, he could hear applause coming from around the room. He could even hear Becky, Este, and Mary individually, all cheering you on.

He watched you stand, laughing off the emotions as you blotted the wetness around your eyes. “Okay, Now Stop!” started playing over the screen as people scrambled to disassemble the makeshift stage. 

It occurred to Eddie then that there…had been no chorus. No hook. It was just a list of questions for him and statements for yourself. A bout of self-loathing and the guilt that he was only now starting to grasp.

And he realized that he too was crying, trying desperately to cease them with the back of his hand. And then his sleeve. And then the tissues he scrambled around the bedroom to find. 

As soon as the livestream ended, Eddie pulled out his phone.

“You’re so brave for doing that,” Becky said, crushing you in a hug. “I’m so proud of you.”

A broken smile met your lips. “God, everyone’s going to talk about it.”

“Let them,” Mary said with a scoff. “Who cares?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, knowing full well who you really wanted to talk about it. To hear it. To think about it.

Your phone began to vibrate in your pocket. As you pulled it out, something resembling belief in fate rushed through you.

Eddie.

You couldn’t suppress an audible gasp, taking a step back from the conversation.

“I’m sorry, I have to take this,” you mumbled before walking away quickly. Pressed that green button. Whispered, “Hello?”

“Oh, hey.”

His voice crawled over you in a rush of relief, an ease that had been missing for so fucking long. “Eddie, hey,” you said nervously, shocked by your own ability to say his name out loud.

“Hey, is this an okay time?”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re good. What’s up?”

“Nothing,” he lied, fiddling with blanket. “I just wanted to congratulate you on the album. It’s really incredible. Your best work yet.”

“Oh, thank you, Eddie. Um, you think?”

“Hm?”

“That it’s my best work?”

“Of course it is,” he answered with a breathy chuckle. “Are you kidding me? You took your individual sound and expanded on it and made it into a high-quality concept album. And the lyrics are incredible. It’s beautiful.”

“That’s really kind of you to say. I’m really proud of it.”

“You should be.”

“Are you working on anything new?”

“Yeah, we’re actually finishing up the album now. Should be out next month if everything goes right.”

“I bet, um. I bet it’s incredible.”

Eddie’s chest tightened at your hesitation. “Each song transitions into one another. You’d think it was cool.”

“I’ll have to listen to it. If, um, if you think I should.”

Swallowing a sigh, Eddie closed his eyes and tried to focus on keeping his voice level. Keep from cracking. Keep from begging for you to come back.

“It’s only if you want to,” he replied, trying to stay neutral before moving on. “Are you doing okay? I know you get really anxious after being, like, out in the open for a while.”

“Yeah, sure I am.” He knew you were lying. “It’s just work.”

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay in case you weren’t,” he admitted.

“You know…” you trailed, pausing.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. “You didn’t have to call if you didn’t want to…”

“Ah, come on,” he said with a chuckle. “I wanted to call you, so I called. Promise.”

Anxiety began to wash over you as you bit the bullet. 

“Is that everything you wanted to say?”

Why hasn’t your publicist confirmed the breakup?

Is this killing you like it’s killing me?

“Well, uh, I don’t know.”

Did you really mean what you said about never falling in love again?

Does that mean there’s a chance?

“What does that mean?” you asked. “I’m confused.”

Is this over?

Are we over?

“I think… I think that’s all I had to say.”

And there was the disappointment.

“Oh, okay.”

“Yeah, I hope you have a good night.”

“Yeah, you too.”

“Oh, hey, one last thing.”

You couldn’t help that ugly surge of hope. “Yeah?” 

“Remember to take care of yourself. You matter more than anyone else does.”

“Oh,” you responded, deflating. “Yeah, I’ll try, Eddie. Take care.”

“Bye.”

“Bye,” you whispered before ending the call.

There’s nothing to say once the phone call ends. No one mentioned the breakup. No one mentioned how the album he called incredible was about him. About the love. The crash and burn. How your love still glowed inside you, bright enough for him to touch if he’d just stretch his fingertips a little further.

And yet, neither of you said a thing.

And neither of you admitted to what you knew was coming in his own album.

You found yourself mute as you shuffled into the back of the black SUV and got out of the city. Left your buzzing phone next to you, knowing that Eddie wouldn’t call you again. Knowing that everything must be over now.

If this was closure, it sure didn’t feel like it.

When you walked into your house, still empty and swirling with dust, you let the grating silence whisk you towards the wine cabinet. Got yourself the shiniest glass you had, poured the cheapest bottle you found. Sat on the back porch and looked out at the moon. 

If things were different, Eddie would be here right now instead of a voice in a fucking phone. His voice, a tiny shard of glass that was surely going to rip you open and never mend itself again. 

He’d sit next to you with his own glass. Comment on how nice it was to just drink the cheap stuff. Roll you a celebratory joint with dried rose petals, the way you liked it. Ask if it was okay if you spent the night out here, just looking up at the moon together.

It’d been a full year since you’d met. Five months since you last spoke. And now you were starting to fold, starting to maneuver yourselves into strangers. Even if that was the last thing Eddie wanted. Even if the mere thought of never talking again made nausea pool in his stomach.

Eddie desperately wished you were looking at the moon together.

And maybe you would feel different than you did tonight. Maybe you would’ve had a perfect night with all your accomplishments and the perfect man beside you to experience it all with.

But he wasn’t there. 

And you felt so alone.

So fucking alone.

Tears streamed down your face, a burning in your chest growing with each What If that you conjured. 

You were not better off without him. 

He knew it the moment you told him goodbye on the island. He knew it the moment he returned to California, shutting himself off from the world. He knew it the second he called you and the second he heard you say goodbye one last time.

Eddie was not better off without you.

once again thanks to the lovely @strangergraphics for making beautiful dividers for me. it is an honor!

[luxekook]

chapter two.

⇥ pairing: namjoon x reader; eventual bts/ot7 x reader

⇥ genre: college au with fluff, smut & angst

⇥ summary: a series in which the reader meets (and falls for) seven members of the Beta Tau Sigma (BTS) fraternity

⇥ word count: 2.3k

⇥ warnings: 18+, cursing, chaotic namjoon, power tools, hints of poly relationships, overall pretty smut free (who AM i???)

© luxekook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.

characters | prologue | one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine

Chapter Two

Habitat for Humanity Worksite – 9:26am

When I signed up to volunteer Saturday morning of syllabus week, I should have known I would end up regretting it. I almost punted my alarm clock out of the apartment window this morning, but instead settled a slightly more civil action – punching the shit out of the ‘off’ button.

Don’t get me wrong: I love volunteering. It’s been part of my routine since sophomore year when I was recruited for the all-women’s service society on campus – the Alphites. As a society, us Alphites volunteer around campus and in our local community each week. There’s something about doing service together that really creates bonds, and the girls in the society have quickly become some of my closest friends.

We sign up to volunteer for a variety of different service projects each week, and Habitat is my current favorite project to sign up for. As a nonprofit organization, Habitat for Humanity helps families build and improve places to call home. Currently, our regional Habitat is working on building a house from the ground up for a local family in need.

Disclaimer: I am in no way, shape, or form a very ‘handy’ person. Luckily for me, there are always a couple volunteers with construction or engineering backgrounds who are willing to teach other volunteers with less experience – or none, like me.

Since beginning to volunteer at the site last year, I have learned how to use a power saw, how to fasten siding, and how to mix, pour and level cement. It’s definitely empowering to learn new skills and also to see how my handiwork contributes to someone’s future home. I also feel lowkey badass when I get to use the power drill for anything.

Pulling up to the worksite, I clutch my cherished 24oz. Wawa coffee. I finally feel somewhat human as I park my beat-up Jeep Wrangler and hop out to meet the other volunteers for our task assignments.

The site leader Eddie – a burly retiree with a background in construction management – greets me with a huge grin, “(y/n)-doll, we missed you this summer! I can’t believe you abandoned us during the hottest months of the year.”

I roll my eyes, smiling at his teasing. Eddie’s like a teddy bear disguised as a grizzly – all rough edges and a heart of gold. “Missed you, too, Eddie.”

“Look at our progress now,” he continues, “Pretty impressive, yeah?” Nodding, I greet some regular volunteers I recognize as Eddie leads me around the house. He proceeds to show me what they had done over the summer in my absence – and they had done a lot. The house now had its full foundation and wooden framing with most of the doors and windows installed.

As we walk back to the front of the house to the main area, I sip my coffee and turn to Eddie, “So, what can I work on today, fearless leader?”

Letting out a patented ‘Eddie belly-laugh’, he replies, “I know you worked on the siding at our last site so I'm gonna have you work on where we started the siding on the right side of the house.”

Sweet, I could work with that. “Aye, aye, captain,” I respond with a lazy salute of my coffee cup. Before I can turn to start towards the scaffolding to begin, Eddie stops me.

“Oh, one more thing. I’m gonna need you to orient our new volunteer and let him shadow you today. Kid’s from the same school as you, I think… Mandatory service. Anyway, he should be here any minute.”

Shit, I know what ‘mandatory service’ means. It’s the first form of disciplinary action that the college issues and is usually the only form of disciplinary action for our athletes or for Greek life – a fact I actively resent. During my time in the Alphites, I have had to deal with some of these ‘mandatory service’ characters and they’ve never been much fun to be around.

“Ah, that’s probably him now,” Eddie startles me out of my thoughts of dread and doom as a black gleaming Tesla practically purrs down the block, swinging into the spot next to my Wrangler. Scowling, I cross my arms as I survey the stark contrast between this person’s shiny-ass luxury car and my dirty-ass well-loved Jeep.

The Tesla door opens. A Timberland booted foot emerges followed by a thick leg encased in light jeans, a tanned well-muscled arm…

No. Nope, it couldn’t be— Please, not today, Satan.

He stands with his back to us now, stretching out his large body. In only a cutoff t-shirt, his rippling back muscles might be enough to send me into an early grave.

I sigh in bitter defeat of the inevitable. Seriously, the fucking universe must have it out for me because I can’t seem to shake this stupid fucking fraternity.

As if the boy feels my eyes on him, he turns. His eyes immediately clash with mine as he slams his car door, clicking the lock over his shoulder. Those eyes – golden brown beneath dark brows and a wave of bleached blonde hair. Their focus is absolute – hard – as he strolls towards us. It’s almost as if he knows the maddening effect that he has on me.

I think Eddie is speaking, but my senses are on lockdown, his words muted. My thighs tighten as my pulse picks up. Get a fucking grip, (y/n). I can’t let him know that just one look from him has me thirsty and oxygen-deprived. I can’t look away – that would be succumbing to weakness.

Instead, I hold his heated gaze as best I can as his confident gait brings him closer. God, he’s got to be at least 6 foot...

The goddamn president of BTS Kim Namjoon is getting closer and I can’t help running my eyes over him.

His thighs flex and shift beneath his jeans with every calculated step. His abs are apparent under his tight cutoff shirt emblazoned with his fraternity letters.

Namjoon stops in front of us, hands stuffed into his back pockets, biceps flexing. “Nice to finally meet you, Eddie,” Namjoon takes his eyes off me long enough to greet Eddie and shake his hand, but then they’re right back on me, “Hi, (y/n).”

He drags out my name in a such a sinful way that even old Eddie does a slight doubletake. Clearing his throat unnecessarily loudly, Eddie booms, “You two know each other?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Our differing replies sound at the same time.

“Yes,” Namjoon repeats, lips turning up in an infuriating smile, “We have several mutual friends that she’s met a couple times now. Want me to jog your memory? I’d be more than happy to do so.”

Eddie takes one look at my face and hustles off, mumbling something about support beams. I guess my inner thoughts of ‘kill, maim, slaughter’ could easily be read from my facial expression.

Namjoon opens his mouth to speak again, but I’m faster, “Listen, Kim, I don’t know who you think you are, and, quite frankly, I don’t care. What I do care about is this house and these people working on it. Don’t fuck this up for me, okay? Let’s just get through today and then you can go back to ordering around your brothers and causing general mayhem.”

I’m feeling pretty proud of my little soliloquy until I realize he’s still smiling with those blasted dimples out in full display. No, his smile has grown even wider now as he simply answers, “The semester.”

My nose crinkles in confusion, “What?”

“The semester,” he repeats, “I’m assigned here every Saturday for the rest of the semester.”

I stare at him.

He smirks back.

I stare.

His smirk begins to fade, “Uh, did you hear me?”

I stare.

“Okay, you’re creeping me out now, (y/n),” Namjoon waves his giant paw of a hand in front of my face, “How many fingers?”

I break out of my trance of denial and hiss, “What did you do? Double homicide? Serial arson? Oh my god, you were the one who blew up the science lab!”

His hand covers my mouth – it’s rough and warm and entirely disarming.

“You have quite the imagination, jagi. I’ll keep that in mind,” Namjoon chuckles, “To answer your question, I did none of the above. Now, answer a couple questions of mine: what did you do to get here and – more importantly – why did you distract Jungkook from doing his fucking job on Monday?”

I glare in response, waiting for him to remove his hand from my mouth. He takes too long, and I lick his palm. It works. He removes his hand, but from the look on his face it seems like he liked my tongue on his skin entirely too much.

Thankfully, Eddie chooses the perfect moment to yell across the site, “What are you doing just standing there, (y/n)-doll? I don’t pay you to just loiter around all day!”

“You don’t pay me at all!” I yell back, already moving towards the trailer with all the supplies to get started. Namjoon follows.

“(y/n)-doll?” his eyebrows are raised as I hand him a pair of the biggest gloves I could find, “What’s up with that?”

Taking a pair of smaller gloves for myself, I turn to look for some hammers and nails as I respond, “I’ve been here a while. He’s like my honorary grandfather at this point.”

I spot the hammers and nails tucked away on the highest corner shelf and I huff. Namjoon follows my gaze, “Need a strong, intelligent, tall young man to grab those for you?”

He’s impossible, but for some reason it draws a small smile to my face, “Yes, that’d be great.”

The smile I receive in response is so bright I wonder if it could make flowers grow, “Okay, but only if answer my questions, (y/n).”

I shrug, trying not to notice how his cutoff shirt rises as he stretches to reach the upper shelf. I catch a sudden glimpse of his abs, and I praise every god out there that hot weather can be blamed for my sudden onset of sweat. 

Clearing my throat, I laugh lightly, “Fine, first of all, I didn’t ‘distract’ Jeon. I just had a temporary lapse in judgement. Besides, he came to me all on his own.” His back muscles tense up at my words, but I continue, “And second of all, there’s no juicy story of how I got here. I just volunteer here every Saturday for the Alphites.”

The sound of a hammer hitting the floor startles me as he whirls around, “You’re an Alphite?”

Namjoon’s tone is one of disbelief and it’s a tone I do not appreciate, “Yes, why is that so hard to believe?” My arms cross defensively, “I’ve been a sister since my sophomore year...”

I trail off. He’s still gawking at me ridiculously. Narrowing my eyes, I stride across the trailer and grab his chin, closing his mouth for him, “Watch out, Kim, you’re gonna catch flies.”

Spinning on my heels, I sashay out of the trailer, nose held high in the air and satisfaction held even higher. He’ll catch up. After all, he’s basically supposed to be my bitch today.

I climb up the scaffolding next to the house’s right side and assess the siding work that has already been started. It looks pretty solid and level. I should have no issue with continuing without having to make any initial corrections.

The sound of a bucket of nails hitting the top platform I’m sitting on alerts me of Namjoon’s impending presence. Saving the bucket from teetering over the edge – a safety hazard for sure – I watch amusedly as Namjoon struggles stay upright and climb up to where I am on the scaffolding. Finally, he plops down next to me – entirely too close. I can feel his stare on my skin as I steadfastly ignore him.

“Hey, jagi,” he pokes my arm, “(y/n), listen, you just caught me off guard. I mean, you don’t seem like the type to be an Alphite – that’s all.”

Fury curls up inside me for the umpteenth time that morning, as I turn to face Namjoon with a sickly-sweet smile that has him flinching back, “Then do tell, Namjoon, what type I seem to be?”

I pick up the hammer closest to me and dip a hand into the nail bucket. The sooner this siding got done, the sooner I could haul ass out of here.

“I feel like that’s a trick question,” Namjoon sighs, rubbing a hand over his chin, “I didn’t mean anything bad by it, okay? I guess I just have always thought that your society was a bunch of mom-types—”

I cut him off with a swing of my hammer in the air, “What’s wrong with mom-types, you uncultured swine? And is serving your community really such a ‘mom’ thing to do? I’m sorry. I must have missed that memo. Here I was thinking that it was public service but go off I guess.”

He blinks, “Did you just call me an ‘uncultured swine’?”

I sniff in indignation, “Get with the times, Kim. I just roasted your ass. Now hand me that piece of siding and make yourself useful.”

“You’re so weird,” Namjoon mutters, sliding my request over to me.

“So what?” I shrug, “All the best people are weird. Now, do me a solid and explain to me why you and your ‘brothers’ keep suspiciously popping up everywhere I go.”

“Haven’t you figured it out yet?” he grins, “We’re interested.”

“What does that even mean? That you’re interested?” I wrack my brain, “As in all seven of you fuckers?”

“It means, jagi,” Namjoon pauses, leaning closer, “It means that we’re going to date the shit out of you.”

a/n: i love namjoon. that is all. 

taglist (message me to be added):

@catsandstrawberries @h5naaa @meowmeowyoongles @leftflowerprunedonut @rjsmochii @athletes-of-god @karissassirak @weallhavesecretsinthebestway @cvbachacbitch @bewitch3dforivar @honeyspillings @xxonyxpearlxx​  @valiantcollectorofsandwiches @fivesecondsofsarang 

[opalfelts]

The symbiote hesitantly chirps another trilling sound, reverberating in Eddie’s chest but inaudible to the world outside, and he laughs again, harder, abdomen tightening and burning. The anchor of tendrils bundled around his organs rattle inside uncomfortably, and the symbiote flows itself out to protrude a serpentine head with two milky, endless eyes.  

Eyes layering a frown and reprimand. The Other gurgles in embarrassment and sharply twists away with a huffy growl, as if its upturning its nose.

“Come now, try again.” Eddie chortles, tickled and charmed, “Take your time.”

Its frown settles deeper.

“Don’t force it, darling. I understand; this may not come so easy for you, but this is similar to all your other delightful noises!”

The Other stares in silent chastisement, and Eddie stares back, smiling and flushed, eyebrows raising in light mischief beneath the Other’s admonishment. He offers apologetically, “It should be natural--a natural, honest rumbling from the soul.” 

Still grinning, Eddie places his warm palm on its soft surface, thumb tracing below its glassy eyeline, and forgiveness swells almost instantly within it. 

Encouragement helps, it’s learning. Its seen and felt Eddie laugh many times; it reasons to monitor the physiology of the act. 

The Other focuses on the crinkling corners of his eyes, the tiny, squiggling tears and the glint shining in them. It recalls the throaty bass of Eddie’s larynx, the air whooshing out of his lungs. There are muscles involved too, contracting and relaxing simultaneously. A tasty soup of happy hormones and neurons firing across synapses; it endeavors to process what it means to simply laugh with another human being. 

So, it wills itself into softening its expression and scrunching its eyes, and savors the flavorful circuits thrumming through their shared bond. The feeling bubbles infectiously, then bleeds into its own atoms, evoking a sensory exhalation. 

And its voice emerges from its silence, tangible and echoing open in the air. 

It’s not even a laugh, no not really. The sound is little, like the drawl of a door creaking open. Eddie’s face blanches; the Other titters, quieter now, and it's giving him a strange, expectant look underneath. 

I-Is it not...is it not doing it right?

There is only his breath for a still moment, and suddenly, he doubles over with stifling snickers, clutching at his sides as if they’ll split apart at the seams. The symbiote preens. 

Scarcely managing to breathe, whole body vibrating through blurry and burning eyes, Eddie affectionately pulls the Other in, and it moves to nuzzle against his heated skin--against his lips orchestrating musical peals. It is too hard to kiss beneath how hard Eddie is smiling. 

Too much connection and happiness and elation, the melody of it all sweeps to a crescendo. 

Until they’re both laughing, laughing, laughing. 

And they both know, even when the laughter inevitably leaves, this joy will stay with them.

@symbruary Day 20 - Noises

[stupidwithu]

I’m the loser (you know I’m gonna come undone)

this is extremely self-indulgent and honestly not that well written but it’s here now

summary: Eddie’s sick and Richie loves him.

Richie Tozier x Eddie Kaspbrak (IT)

__________

Eddie collapses into the hammock with a deep-rooted sigh. Subconsciously, his legs swing over the edge of it, in the direction of Richie’s head, who catches both Eddie’s ankles in a single hand.

“Occupado, asshole.”

“Fuck you,” Eddie says emptily. His voice is unusually subdued, Richie thinks, and the taller boy crinkles his nose at the sound of it.

“What’s your problem?” Eddie glares.

“What’s yours?”

Their banter is jaded. For once, there’s no venom – or even humor – behind Richie’s words. Just curiosity.

Eddie, on the other hand, seems… off.

“Eds?”

Eddie groans.

“You okay?”

Eddie offers a sock-clad tap to Richie’s left cheek. Richie slaps his foot away, rolling his eyes when it comes right back, knocking the rims off the bridge of his nose.

“I’m serious,” Richie exhales. “You look—”

“Like shit,” Stanley finishes. Richie narrows his eyes at him, like he’s just now remembering he and Eddie aren’t alone.

This seems to catch the rest of the losers’ attention. They turn in almost-creepy unison to face the boys with looks that are equal parts interest and concern. Richie blushes. He nudges Eddie away.

Eddie makes himself known with a soft whimper, curling in on himself with his back to the group (Richie can still see his face, all scrunched up and irritated). He doesn’t like the attention he’s getting. Not now. Not like this.

“I just don’t feel good, okay?” His voice is muffled by his own knees, pressed against his lips like he’s trying to make himself smaller. “Leave me alone.”

Richie’s seconds away from a Seriously, Eds? How old are you? when Bill cuts him off.

“What’s wr… what’s wrong, Eddie?”

For some reason, watching his friends fret over the boy before him makes Richie feel strange. An uncomfortable sensation bubbles up in his stomach and his blood goes warm. He swallows hard, opens his mouth, and says nothing.

In a matter of seconds, Beverly is crouched at Eddie’s side, one of her hands finding residence beneath his hair. Bill stands behind her, arms crossed, and Ben’s there too, like he wants to make sure he looks useful and caring, in case Bev happens to look his way.

Stanley and Mike keep their distance, and Richie doesn’t blame them, because a few hushed whispers into the love triangle’s apprehensive exchange and Eddie’s bolting upright, pushing them away – or at least attempting to. Richie scrambles to plant a foot on the ground to keep himself from falling as Eddie rocks the hammock.

“Stop!” He screeches. “Stop fucking touching me. I mean it!”

He’s breathing heavy. Richie can tell he’s got more to say.

“Eddie—” Ben starts, but Beverly gives the smallest shake of her head and he purses his lips. How does she do it?

“Guys,” Mike says then, and all heads but Eddie’s follow his voice. He cocks his head in the direction of the clubhouse entrance. “A word?”

With hesitant, almost shameful movements, they follow Mike and Stan up the ladder and into the afternoon sun.

Richie lingers a few seconds longer. He’s hoping Eddie will ask him to stay.

As if on cue, he tugs feebly at Richie’s wrist.

Eddie doesn’t say anything, not even when Richie tries one of his more annoying nicknames, but he doesn’t loosen his grip, either, and nobody seems to mind when they don’t move at all.

_____

When Eddie wakes, it’s to the feeling of Richie’s hands cupping both sides of his face.

For a moment, the soft yet slightly panicked brush of Richie’s skin against his cheeks makes Eddie think he’s at the Neibolt house again. His arm jolts in protest, but it doesn’t hurt like it did before. It’s not broken, and that’s not where they are.

The clubhouse, Eddie remembers slowly.

While he was asleep, it got dark. Richie switched positions somewhere between Stanley saying goodbye and Bev popping back in to kiss Eddie’s forehead. They’re laying in the same direction now, still in the hammock, bodies pushed together so that Eddie’s fanny pack is pressed uncomfortably to Richie’s torso. A surge of guilt runs through him. He wonders how long they’ve been like this. Eddie almost thinks he remembers Richie playing with his hair, but he might’ve dreamt that.

“Wha—Where’s everyone?”

“Not here,” Richie shrugs. He’s sweating, Eddie notices. How the fuck? It’s freezing. “Bill was the last one to leave, like an hour ago. I would’ve gone, too, but you just looked so adorable laying here all feverish and helpless, I—”

“Beep beep,” Eddie coughs. “R-Richie.”

“Oh, come on!” Richie has an argument on the tip of his tongue (that was not means for a beeping, Eds), but it falls to nothing when the coughing doesn’t stop. “Eddie!”

Eddie tries to sit up, but he’s light in the hammock and Richie’s weighing it down. He makes it halfway up before collapsing into Richie’s chest, pushing against him without an ounce of strength. He starts to wheeze, and Richie springs into action.

He falls to his knees before a now-seated Eddie, who hacks into the crook of his elbow. Richie winces, rather unhelpfully, giving one of his shoulders a tight squeeze. “C’mon, Eds. It’s okay. Breathe.”

When he’s able, Eddie punches Richie in the chest. “I’m trying, dipshit.”

Richie just smiles.

“I’m sorry you’re sick.”

Eddie frowns. Richie sounds so sincere. “I’m not—”

“Ben said he’d stop by with meds and if those don’t help, I’ll—”

Eddie pales.

“Shit, are you gonna puke?”

Eddie ignores him. “What meds?”

“I don’t fucking know, like, fever reducer…? I’m not a doctor.”

Eddie stands, nearly knocking Richie over in the process. A sudden fury crosses over his features. He fumbles with the buckle of his fanny pack, but his hands are trembling.

Richie rises in a matter of seconds, towering over him in a more natural stance. He covers Eddie’s hands with his own, an uncharacteristic gentleness overcoming him. “What do you need?”

Richie reaches for the zipper just as Eddie gets the belt undone. He tosses the bag as far as he can manage. It hits the wall then crashes against the ground with an empty thud. Richie flinches.

“Eddie?”

“Nothing! I don’t—I don’t fucking need anything in there!”

“Uh,”

“I don’t need medicine, Richie.”

Richie makes a weird face. Eddie wants to punch him. “Oh.”

“Fucking what, Richie?”

“This is about Sonia.”

“What?!” Eddie’s eyes go wide. “No, it isn’t.”

“Of course it is.” Richie runs a hand over his face. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner! That fucking bitch traumatized you.”

“N-no.”

“You’re not sick, Eddie Bear, but you are sick—like with the flu or some shit, it’s actually disgusting—”

Eddie swings, but Richie avoids the hit easily.

“Stop!”

“I’m sorry she lied to you.” Sincere again. It’s not a good color on Richie, Eddie thinks. “That’s, like, a lot to unpack and it’s getting late, but you know your mom’s a piece of shit and I don’t think—”

“Fuck you, Richie.”

At that, Richie stops. Not because of the dark hatred that his favorite person in the entire world just spat at him, but because Eddie’s crying. Actually, openly sobbing. Eddie was furious and screeching and burning red and Richie blinked and now his face is wet and blotchy and he’s hiccupping and fucking crying. Just like that.

“Eds…”

“My mom loves me.”

“I—”

“Shut the fuck up. Just—just, for once in your goddamn life, Richie—”

“That’s not fair.”

“Shut the fuck up!”

Eddie’s furious again, but it’s short-lived. He takes a half-step forward before his knees buckle and he collapses into Richie’s open arms. He’s sick, gross, and mean but Richie doesn’t even blink. He pulls him close, waiting patiently as Eddie cries into his shirt.

“My mom loves me,” he sobs.

One of Richie’s hands snakes up Eddie’s neck, simultaneously testing his fever and taking the ends of his hair between his fingers in a soothing gesture. The other arm’s around his waist, keeping him steady. Eddie’s otherwise completely limp, clenching and unclenching the damp fabric on Richie’s back.

“I love you,” Richie says without thinking. Eddie sniffles. “I just mean… of course your mom loves you, Eds, she just—I don’t know. She just—She doesn’t—”

Richie pauses, takes a deep breath. He knows what he wants to say. He just doesn’t know if Eddie wants to hear it. Honestly, he thinks he already knows.

“The losers love you,” he corrects. “And we don’t want to see you sick, or hurting, like, ever…” he sighs. “Look at you, Eds.”

He’s referring to Eddie’s sickly pale skin – save for the bright pink fever and the tear stains – and his glossy eyes and his chapped lips and the way his tiny body shakes and his voice cracks. Richie knows he’ll be fine, but he can’t help the way his heart breaks.

“I didn’t think about how hard it must be for you. Meds, after everything… You don’t have to take them if you don’t want to. We just thought it might help if you woke up still feeling shitty and it seems like—”

Richie cuts himself off again. He clears his throat. “Anyways, are you done needing consoling? Because I’m not good at it and if you ever tell anyone I’m saying all this sappy shit, Edward, so help me—”

Eddie squeezes him tight. “I’ll take them.”

“Okay.”

“Please don’t take me home.”

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be.”

“—I just wanna be here, just for a little while longer.”

“Okay.”

Richie would stay with him all night, if he asked.

Eddie pulls away, just slightly, and Richie helps him stand on his own. They’re silent for a while. Eddie’s staring, but Richie can’t bring himself to meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats.

Richie wants to kiss the words off his lips. He leans down and kisses his clammy forehead instead.

Eddie’s eyes are wide and Richie’s are closed, until Richie pulls away and they blink their expressions back to normal.

“I, uh, I love you too, Rich.”

[thatesqcrush]

Road Show

Harvard! Rafael Barba x Reader. Inspired by a post I saw from @cutiepiesub, which stated “Car sex while it’s raining. Both of you in the backseat, one on the others lap, making out and giggling while softly touching each other, the rain pouring down and drowning out each other’s moans. The rain and foggy windows making the lights outside a blur of pretty colors.” CW: NSFW for smut and language. 18+ fo’ sho.’

AN: It’s Harvard based Barba, but he’s an adult.  Tags: @madpanda75 @ottosuricato @delia26​ @sass-and-suspenders @glimmerglittergirl @melsquared79 @mommakat32 @southern-magnolia @niyashell @tropes-and-tales @imjustreallynosy @whyissvuruiningmylovelife @evee87 @scarletsoldierrr @kscarlett1 @cesarofangirl78 @redlipstickandplaid @dreila03​ - anyone else just ask.

You huffed as you threw another duffel bag into your trunk. You pressed the bag down onto the others, trying to make it fit. “How many bags do you need for a weekend trip?” Rafael asked as he approached you. His eyes bounced from the sight of your full trunk to the one duffel bag he had. “Not a lot,” you replied defensively as you slammed your trunk shut. “I’m meeting your mom and friends for the first time; I want to make a good impression.” You shoved your hands into the back pocket of your jeans. The wind blew, and the autumnal leaves whipped around your feet. You shivered. “How many times do I have to tell you? Just be you. They’ll love you.” Rafael reached and pulled you into an embrace. Rafael brushed some hair back, before cupping your cheek. “Just as I love you.” He gave you a slightly goofy grin; you felt your insecurities dissipate and you relaxed into his embrace. “Okay,” you replied. “Now, do you want to do the first leg of the trip? We can change around New Haven. Or I can do it, whatever.” It was your turn to feel Rafael tense. “Uh... I don’t...” “It’s fine,” you replied, cutting him off. You pulled away to open the car door. “Driving helps with my anxiety so it’ll be good for me to — “ you stopped, noticing your boyfriend was looking at the ground, his face reddened. “Rafael you know how to drive don’t you?” You questioned as you jingled the keys. Rafael let out an audible sigh and looked up at you. “I have a permit, but I don’t know actually. I grew up in the city. You don’t need to know how to drive because you can get by on the subway.” You smiled sympathetically at your boyfriend. “You’ll have to learn eventually. I’ll teach you. Not today though. It’s going to be a long enough drive as it is. Now come on, let’s go. I want to stop and fill up and then get coffee.” Rafael perked at the mention of coffee. “Okay. Gas and coffee are on me.” **** The traffic wasn’t as nearly as bad you imagined it’d be for Columbus Day weekend. That all came to an abrupt halt when you approached the Whitestone bridge and things came to a crawl. You sighed, irritated. Rafael squeezed your thigh and you gave him a small smile before you slammed on your horn at another driver. “I thought you said driving relaxes you,” Rafael chuckled as he changed the radio station. You glared at him and stuck your tongue at him. “He cut me off!” “Remind me to take you Mulally Park. It’s really pretty this time of year if you look past the litter,” Rafael replied staring out the passenger window. He watched as the city’s skyline came into view. He felt a pang of wistfulness - he didn’t want to leave the city but when Harvard beckoned, he knew he had to leave. **** Finding parking along Jerome Avenue was tricky. You managed to parallel park under the elevated subway line along 167th Street after circling the streets for what seemed like an eternity. Rafael hadn’t even managed to be out of the car for more than a minute when he heard his name called out. Rafael turned and he broke out into a grin seeing his friends, Alex Muñoz and Eddie Garcia. “Alex! Eddie!” Rafael greeted them, pulling them each into hugs accompanied by slaps on the back. “¡Los tres mosqueteros se han reunido!” Eddie cheered. “Es bueno verte mi amigo,” Alex replied. He looked over towards you, a glint in his eye. “Hi. You must be Y/N. Rafael’s told us all about you. We never thought he’d move on from Yelina.” Rafael flushed, taking your hand in his. “Alex,” he replied, his voice low, warning. Alex ignored him. “It’s nice to meet you Y/N. For awhile I thought he made you up.” You cocked a brow at him. “Well, I’m very much real,” you replied coolly. “And I know all about Yelina.” When you saw the surprised look that came across Alex’s face, you knew he hadn’t been counting on you knowing about Yelina. His expression changed quickly and he raised an eyebrow at you. “Pues, you should come hang with Yelina and I after the game,” Alex continued, smirking at your response. “You know there’s no hard feelings.” “Why would there be; you are my best friend after all,” Rafael replied curtly, the grip on your hand tightening. You whipped your head at your boyfriend and then looked back at Alex. “How long are you in town for Rafi?” Eddie interrupted. “Just the weekend; catching the game tonight,” Rafael replied. You felt his grip on yours loosen. You opened your mouth and the closed it. The air was thick with tension and awkwardness. Rafael looked up towards the stairs that connected Shakespeare and Anderson avenues. “Here, be useful and help us carry these. Y/N is meeting mami for the first time.” Rafael grabbed your duffle and tossed it at Alex, who caught it. Alex smirked at you. “Sure thing Rafi.” *** Meeting Lucia Barba wasn’t as terrifying as you thought. Catalina Diaz, was wonderful. She reminded you of your own grandmother. She was exceptionally kind. “M’ija, eat, eat,” Catalina encouraged you as she piled another plate of white rice and black beans and sweet fried plantains in front of you. You smile and nodded. The food was too delicious. “Gracias,” you replied. You two were headed to the Yankees game that night and as much as you enjoyed stadium fare, you didn’t enjoy stadium prices. You and Rafael wanted to get your fill in before you headed out. “I found another album with pictures of Rafi,” Lucia declared victtoriously as she entered the kitchen. “This one has him getting a bath in the sink.” “Mamí,” Rafael groaned. “Really?” Lucia gave him a look as she handed you a picture. You giggled, despite your mouth being full of food. You traced the picture of the very chubby infant splashing in the sink. You swallowed your food before speaking. “You were adorable.” “Excuse me, I’m still adorable,” Rafael winked before he popped a maduro in his mouth.” “That you are,” Lucia replied, before walking over to press a kiss to the top of Rafael’s head. **** The Yankees won, after breaking a tie in the bottom of the ninth. There was a massive crowd, that spilled back onto the streets, cheering. Part of the crowd was slowly dissipating towards the subway. You and Rafael made your way back towards outside of the stadium, hand in hand. Though you both ate, you did spend money on beers and both of you were a little buzzed on the high of the game and the beer. “My first year of little league was awful,” Rafael stated. “I’m better off watching baseball versus playing.” “I wonder if your mom has a picture of you; I’ll have to ask,” you wondered out loud. “Oh God,” Rafael groaned. “I hope not.” You both walked up the concourse, hand in hand. You weren’t sure if it was the beer or something else, but you felt uneasy. “Do you want to hang out with Alex and Ye—”

“No,” Rafael replied rather brusquely. You were taken slightly aback by his curt response, but yet you continued. “So about Yelina...” Rafael dropped your hand and came to a stop. You turned towards him. A look of pain was etched on his face and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I really don’t want to talk about Yelina,” he replied. A gust of wind blew, and he looked up towards the sky. The scent of petrichor was thick, indicating it was going to rain soon. A large drop from the sky fell, splashing his cheek. Rafael wiped it away with the back of his hand. “Let’s just get back.” You nodded and resumed walking. There was a large gap between the two of you. You crinkled your nose. “You shouldn’t keep your feelings inside. You can talk to me.” “There is nothing to say,” Rafael replied, his voice rising slightly. “I asked you to drop this.” You stopped and turned to face him. “Please don’t shut me out.” Rafael looked around and he audibly sighed, exasperated. “Fine but not here; let’s go to your car.” You nodded and followed Rafael back towards the car. You walked up the stairs and back down, huffing behind him. “I used to climb these stairs all the time.” Rafael quipped. “In the day they’re fine, but at night it isn’t the safest. Just stay close to me.” You both made it back to your car shortly thereafter, and sat in the backseat.  “When you’re ready,” you implored after a beat. Rafael swallowed hard. He removed his Yankees sweatshirt, which was damp from some of the rain and his sweat. He took a deep breath and then he began. “You know how she cheated on me. She really wanted Alex; she used me as a stepping stone. I just don’t get why this still upsets me so much.” “Your feelings are valid,” you replied softly. “You were betrayed by the two people you trusted most. At the end of the day I can’t tell you who to be friends with or not, but I’d drop them if I was you,” you replied. You reached over and took his hand, squeezing gently. Rafael looked at you and shook your head. “It’s so easy to say that. But there’s so much history.” You sucked in your bottom lip and chewed out of nervousness. Looking out the window, you felt the knot in your stomach grow. You focused on the graffiti wall across from you. “Are you still in love with her?” You felt Rafael’s hand on your shoulder, encouraging you to turn to look at him. Rafael leaned over to kiss you. You pulled away. “You’re not answering my question.” Rafael cocked his head. “Y/N - I love you. And only you. Yelina is my past.” You smiled at his response and pressed a kiss to his lips. The kiss which initially began chaste, grew with heated passion. Rafael tasted like a mix of beer and mint. You ran your hands under his tee-shirt, and then back out over his shirt. Rafael pulled you so that you were onto his lap. His fingertips grazed the hem of your shirt before pushing under to cup your breasts through your bra. You ground yourself into his lap, feeling his arousal through the clothing. Your jeans provided a friction against your most sensitive parts and you could feel your panties dampen. You groaned as he began to suck on the hollow of your neck; it sent a course of pleasure through your body. Rafael’s thumbs grazed your nipples, which were already hardened pebbles.

“You have the best tits - have I told you that?” Rafael murmured as he hiked up your shirt to lower his mouth to your flesh. You could feel his warm breath on your skin and it sent a shiver up your spine; you could feel the goosebumps which started to spring on your skin.

“You might have mentioned it,” you panted as his tongue swirled over a nipple. “Oh God Rafael. We gotta make this quick,” you cautioned. “Someone can see us.”

Rafael hummed his agreement, continuing to bathe your breasts. You didn’t think you could orgasm from just your breasts being lavished upon but here you were, at the precipice, all thanks to your boyfriend’s oral skills. You ran your hands through his soft hair, gently tugging him off of you. 

“Take off your pants guapo,” you replied. Rafael nodded eagerly. You lifted off of him slightly, sitting back on the seat, in order to remove your shoes and pants. Rafael did the same, raising his hips slightly to remove his jeans, and pushed them down his legs. You moved to remove your panties, but Rafael stopped you. “Leave them on,” he requested and you nodded.

“Do you have a condom?” you wondered – slightly panicking. Rafael nodded. “In my wallet.” He reached down to his gathered pants and opened up his wallet, removing a foil packet. He rolled the condom on, and squeezed the base of his cock to prevent himself getting too worked up. You bit your lip, watching Rafael intently, mesmerized by his actions.

“You sure about this?” Rafael asked, breaking you out of your reverie. You nodded, and affirmed your consent verbally. “Never more sure.”

You sat on Rafael’s lap, kissing him once more. As your lips and tongues battled each other’s, one of Rafael’s hands moved down from your back, down your side and to your hip where it placed itself permanently. The other, moved towards your panties. His fingers grazed your clitoris softly, causing you to jump ever so slightly. Rafael gripped your hip tighter, steadying you. 

Rafael lined his cock to your entrance and slowly, you sunk down on his cock, enveloping him with your warmth. Rafael moaned loudly. “Oh fuck, you feel so good.”

“So do you,” you mewled. You threw your head back, and grasped the top of his shoulders as you began to bounce on his cock. Rafael kept one hand on your hip as you rode him, guiding you up and down on him. The heat that emanated from your bodies caused the windows to steam up. 

Rafael thrusts into you quickened as he fucked you more intensely. You knew that you were going to be deliciously sore. “R-Rafi, I am going to come,” you warned. The hand on your hip moved to your clitoris, and he began to rub haphazard circles. You grabbed at your own breasts, cupping them. “Come for me,” Rafael choked out, driving into you over and over again.  You shouted Rafael’s name, as your walls fluttered around his cock, your orgasm washing over you. Rafael held you close to him as you fell apart, his own thrusts becoming erratic and sloppy. He stiffened, and he came with a roar, your name escaping his lips. After a few minutes, you moved off of Rafael and he pulled off the used condom. He tied it and tossed it to the side. 

“Wow,” you replied as you began to re-dress. “We should do that more often.” Rafael guffawed.

A knock on the window, made you both jump. Hesitantly, you looked at the window, to see a bright light being shone into the car. “Shit, Rafael muttered.

You rolled down the window, and held your hand over your eyes, trying to block out the bright light. “Is there something a matter?”

“I hate to rain on your parade, but there’s a time and a place for these things; we don’t need a road show,” the officer replied curtly. “I am going to let you off with a warning.”

“Thanks officer –” Rafael replied, his cheeks pink.

The cop nodded, “I am going to circle the block once more. You both better be gone by the time I get back.”

After a minute, you and Rafael made your way back out of the car. Rafael tossed the condom in the trash bin. “Come on; lets hurry back before my abuela sends out the search party.”

You giggled as you bounded back up the stairs, Rafael following your lead.

FIN

[eddie-boii]

Never Let You Go (part 13/14)

Fic info: Both Eddie and Stan live because I do what I want. Multichapter.

Rating: Mature. 

Pairings: Reddie, Benverly.

Ao3 link: here

Summary: The Losers prepare for a wedding. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

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

*

Richie pushed the door closed with a soft click and silence stretched through the hotel room. Neither seemed to want to be the first to speak, so Richie wandered over to the stereo set tucked in the entertainment unit beside the TV and busied himself flicking through radio stations while Eddie kicked off his shoes and loosened his tie a little. Richie stopped fiddling with the dial as a familiar song blossomed from the speakers.

“Wise men say...”

Cheesy. This was so cheesy. And Richie was such a fucking coward, but… maybe he’d be brave just this once.

“Only fools rush in...”

“Hey,” he said, just loud enough for Eddie to hear. The other man turned to him with raised eyebrows and Richie held out his hand. “I think I owe you a real dance.”

Eddie looked down at Richie’s hand and the second’s pause felt like a lifetime as Richie’s heart raced, but then Eddie reached out and took it, his warm fingers brushing over Richie’s palm and sending sparks of electricity shooting up his arm, making his heart pound even faster. Richie pulled Eddie over to the balcony and pulled the glass doors open without letting go of his hand. It was snowing again, the soft white flakes glowing softly in the light seeping from their room. They stepped out onto the balcony and, hesitantly, Richie put a hand on Eddie’s waist, the warmth of his skin heating his hand through the thin fabric of his shirt.

“Oh, you’re leading, are you?” said Eddie with feigned annoyance even as he put a hand on Richie’s shoulder.

“Well, duh. You’re so tiny.”

“Average height, dickwad. It’s not my fault your mom fed you steroids.”

Richie only smiled softly, too distracted by that expression on Eddie’s face to retort, the little furrow in his brows and slight flush over his cheeks. This close up, he could see the freckles dusting the bridge of his nose, not as prominent as when they were kids, but still there. Richie longed to count them all one day.

“Shall I stay, 

“Would it be a sin…”

They swayed slowly in time to the music, not really dancing but something like it. The snow came down softly, little flakes falling on Eddie’s hair and catching on his eyelashes before he blinked them away. Richie didn’t feel as cold as he should have, not with Eddie’s hand in his and their bodies so close, sharing heat.

“If I can’t help,

“Falling in love with you.”

Eddie’s face was so close, his lips only a few inches away. Richie only had to tilt his head down slightly if he wanted to meet them, but was he really brave enough? He kept his eyes fixed on Eddie’s mouth, milling it over in his head, trying to work up the courage to just lean down a little. But before he could, Eddie kissed him.

Eddie pulled away almost as quickly as he’d leaned in, but Richie chased his lips, not about to let him get away that easily, and their mouths locked in that little burst of electricity, fitting together like they’d always meant to be, and Richie didn’t care anymore about embarrassing himself, he just let himself sink. He’d wanted to do this for so long. So, so long. And he was having a hard time getting his head around it, so he didn’t bother thinking, just let himself do what he’d been imagining for thirty years.

He hooked his thumbs into Eddie’s belt and pulled him closer so they were flush together, their clothes the only thing between them. Eddie pulled away suddenly and Richie let out a little whine of disappointment, but it turned out it was only so Eddie could pull his glasses off so they wouldn’t have any barrier between them, and as soon as he had, his lips were back on Richie’s and he was pulling him further into the bedroom away from the balcony. Richie’s blindly reached out to close the screen doors and shut out the cold night air just before Eddie pulled him too far away towards the bed.

“Shit,” Richie breathed, pulling away a little for air. “Shouldn’t we have that talk first?”

“Talk later,” said Eddie impatiently, tugging Richie back down. His hands were entangled in his hair, ruining the little braids Patty had oh so carefully woven there. Richie found he didn’t care all that much, not when Eddie’s mouth was so hot against his, not when Eddie’s teeth bit at his bottom lip or when his tongue slipped into his mouth. It seemed Eddie didn’t care all that much about the bacteria in saliva when Richie was involved.

Richie quickly grew frustrated with the clothes between them and his hands blindly found the buttons on Eddie’s shirt, loosening them clumsily with little care as to whether he popped any off, too eager to get his hands on Eddie’s bare skin. His hand found the scar on his chest, the hard, uneven marring of his otherwise perfect skin, stretched across so much of his torso. Richie wanted to kiss it, to run his lips across it, this undeniable proof that even after Eddie had been hurt so badly, he’d survived. He was alive, his chest rising and falling rapidly beneath Richie’s hand. He stretched his fingers out, spreading his hands across Eddie’s skin, wanting to feel everything, to memorise every contour of his-

“What the fuck?” Richie pulled away to gape at Eddie’s now bare chest. “You have abs?! We’re fucking forty! Why do you have abs?”

“Because exercise is fucking good for you,” Eddie retorted. “You should try it sometime, asshole.”

“You can do exercise without getting abs!” Richie exclaimed. “You’re fucking ripped, what the fuck? All this time we were fawning over Ben when really you were the one with the stinking hot bod!”

“Oh my god, shut the fuck up!” Eddie cried, hands flying up to cover his burning cheeks.

“Seriously, dude, how much do you work out? How much weight can you bench press?”

Eddie’s hands fell away from his face and Richie only had time to catch a slight flicker of mischief in his eyes before, in one swift movement, Eddie bent down, hooked his arms under Richie’s legs, and flipped him up and back onto the bed with ease.

“How’s that?” Eddie said, moving to lean over Richie with a playful smile pulling at his mouth.

Richie gaped up at him, then decided to forgo words and simply pulled Eddie down, kissing that infuriating little smile right off his face. He let his hands run through Eddie’s soft hair, messing up the neat style like he’d always wanted to. They shifted on the bed until Richie was propped up against the headboard and Eddie was straddling his waist. Richie didn’t think he’d ever get over the feeling of Eddie’s thighs pressed tight around his hips.

“Woah,” said Richie, breaking away as Eddie starting toying with the buttons on his shirt. “No way am I letting you see my forty-year-old dad bod when you look like that.”

“I’ve seen it before, dumbass.”

“That was before I knew you had abs!”

“You have abs too,” said Eddie. He slipped his hand up beneath Richie’s shirt and spread his palm out over his abdomen, grinning when Richie gave a shiver. “Under here.”

“Underneath my old man flab?”

“Maybe I like your old man flab,” said Eddie. He leaned forward to whisper in Richie’s ear, nipping playfully at his earlobe along the way and making Richie’s hands spasm where they were resting on Eddie’s hips. “Take off your fucking shirt.”

“Fine but you’re not allowed to make fun of me,” said Richie, voice coming out a lot hoarser than he meant it too. Eddie Kaspbrak was a real tease.

“I won’t make fun of you,” said Eddie, his expression softening. “You’re fucking gorgeous, Tozier.”

“Wow,” said Richie, ignoring the blush spreading across his cheeks. “Love really does make you blind.” He faltered when Eddie raised his eyebrows at him. “I mean- I didn’t-” 

He was silenced when Eddie leaned forward and kissed him, his hands moving to undo Richie’s buttons and push his shirt and blazer off. He paused, breaking away from the kiss when something crinkled in the breast pocket of the blazer, and Richie felt his face burn when Eddie slipped his fingers into it and pulled out a little foil square.

“That’s not mine,” he blurted instantly. “I’m not assuming anything, I swear! Stan gave me this suit and you know how much of a little shit he is-”

“He is,” agreed Eddie, eyeing the foil packet. “He only left us the one. What, does he think we’re only going to do it once?” Richie gaped up at him, words stuck in his throat. “Unless you don’t want to?” Eddie added quickly.

“No! I mean yes! I mean, I’ve had fucking recurring wet dreams about this-”

“Beep beep, Richie.”

“I just- I- Shit.” Richie moved to run his hands down his face. “I need to tell you something first.”

“Spit it out, Trashmouth.”

“I-” Richie stared up at him. His face was a blur without his glasses but that didn’t matter; Richie could picture every detail, had committed it to memory. The exact brown of his eyes and the little permanent furrow of his eyebrows. The slight crook of his nose and the freckles across it. He needed to be brave now. There was no reason not to be; Eddie clearly liked him. He wouldn’t have made out with him or be straddling him or be suggesting they have sex if he didn’t. But he wasn’t sure if this really meant as much to Eddie as it did to Richie. He had to be sure. 

“I love you,” he blurted out at last, talking way too fast but he didn’t care, he just had to get it out. “Like, I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you since we were twelve and Brian Sanders called me a loudmouth fuckface with mental problems and you slapped him round the face with your fanny pack and told him you’d break his teeth if he ever spoke to me like that again. So- so there it is, I guess. I love you, Eds. I don’t know if that makes things too weird or…”

He stopped short when Eddie started laughing.

“What the fuck?” cried Richie. “I just confessed my undying love to you and you’re laughing at me?”

“It’s- It’s not that,” said Eddie, gasping for breath between laughter. “I just-” He shook his head, breathing deeply until his laughter subsided, then he smiled down at Richie. “I’ve got you beat, bro.”

“You- What?”

“I’ve got you beat,” Eddie repeated. “See, I’ve been in love with you since right before that happened when Brian Sanders pushed me over at recess and you yelled loud enough for the whole school to hear that his mom once blew the chemistry teacher behind the gymnasium so he’d give Brian a better grade. So that’s, what, like a whole minute I’ve got on you?”

“You- you-” Richie stared up at him. There were too many things he wanted to say, all fighting at once to get out of his mouth, but he couldn’t seem to get any out. “Wait, so you-”

“I love you too, Rich,” said Eddie.

“Well shit,” said Richie eloquently. “So we really did waste thirty years being dumbasses?”

“Well not really,” said Eddie. “Coz twenty-seven of those weren’t our fault, and the time we spent in Derry wasn’t really our fault either since that town’s a homophobic crap pile. So really, when you think about it, we only wasted one year.”

“Still,” said Richie. “That’s a lot of lost time we’ve gotta catch up on, right?”

“Yeah,” said Eddie. He leaned down once more, kissing Richie deeply, his hands wandering over Richie’s exposed chest. He moved away slightly to press kisses along Richie’s jaw-line, and when he spoke, his breath was hot against his skin. “Guess we’d better get a move on.”

*

Previous Next

[justasp0rk]

Dime

Hey! Been a hot minute since I’ve post any of my work, so have this angsty reddie one shot! Basically, this is what happens after Eddie’s first experience with Pennywise.

AO3 link here! _______________________________________

Eddie carefully stepped over the small stones that were laid across the river down in the Barrens, the forced balance making his limbs finally stop shaking. He wasn’t sure what he saw, back at the Nielbolt house, he didn’t even know if that person- that leper- could even be considered alive in the state that it was in.

And the clown…

Cold water splashed on his ankle, tearing Eddie out of his thoughts as he furrowed his brows at the rocks beneath him. Balance, balance, balance…

‘In world war two, when Jews and others were sent to concentration camps, they would be given patches to indicate what was wrong with them by the Nazis standards.’

Balance, balance, balance…

‘The Jews, of course, were given a star of David to wear. The upside down triangle would be colored based on criteria that the Nazis had, non Jews simply just getting an upside down triangle. Red for political enemy,’

Balance, balance, balance.

‘Purple for foreigners,’

Eddie felt his eyes sting with unshed tears.

'And a pink upside down triangle for homosexuals.’

He felt his foot slip on a patch of moss, falling into the stream with a high pitched yelp. Eddie quickly stood back up, stumbling over his feet and laces as he rushed back to shore, shaking hands shoving his inhaler into his mouth. That’s what they were learning the final few days of school, that’s what the teacher was talking about, and the clown… the clown…

Eddie puffed the medicine into his lungs, taking in a heaving breath as he collapsed on the dying grass. It didn’t mean anything, it didn’t mean anything. Eddie was just seeing things because of his new pills, that’s all it was, he just hadn’t adjusted to the medication yet.

Still, he felt hot tears roll down his cheeks and drop onto the grass, nose scrunched as he sniffled. Eddie wasn’t sick, his mom was trying to hard to keep him a healthy boy, he wasn’t sick.

“Eds?”

Eddie shot back up on his feet, quickly wiping away the tears on his face with his forearm, pretending to be exceedingly interested in the trees. If he saw a bird, he could tell Stan, it would be easy to say he was just trying to help Stan, make him feel better after he seemed so shaky the other day.

A hand landed on Eddie’s shoulder, and, although expected, still made him jump. He turned and was greeted with his smiling, bucked toothed friend with glasses that were all too blocky and eyes that were a little too big. Richie took in Eddie’s appearance, tapping his wet shirt with a laugh.

“Grey water, my good sir!” He called out, his British Guy voice in full effect. “Why, I can’t believe I’ve found master Kaspbrak wondering in the Barrens all by his lonesome, let alone splashing in that blasted grey water!” Richie lifted Eddie’s arms, absentmindedly looking for scrapes and bruises as he talked. Falling into habit. “The stream itself reeks of the anal proceedings of Derrys residents-”

“Beep beep, Richie,” Eddie snapped, feeling a little woozy. “The stream is all freshwater, fuck off with your bullshit!” He tore his arm away from Richie, glaring at him, but he was honestly glad that the boy stopped by. Eddie wasn’t sure he wanted to be alone.

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” Richie snapped back, grinning. “I mean, I personally know she loves a filthy mouth, Eds, but how did you know that?” Eddie gagged, shoving Richie away from him.

“Don’t talk about my mommy like that!” Eddie crossed his arms, frowning at Richie. “What the fuck do you want?”

Richie’s expression turned somber. “Felt lonely in the house, came down here and found you,” He winked. “My favorite pasta.”

Eddie ignored the way his cheeks warmed at the stupid nickname. He didn’t want to think about that right now, not after what happened. “Didn’t mean you had to bother me.”

“But you were here!” Richie threw his arms around Eddie, lifting him into the air as the boy kicked and yelled in protest. “Why wouldn’t I bother you, my love? It’s the thing I’m best at!”

“The thing you’re best at is running your fucking mouth!” Eddie hit Richie’s back repeatedly, hating the fact he was biting back a smile, that he wanted to lightly giggle at the shenanigans. “Put me down!”

Richie shrugged, laughing loudly. “Okay!”

Eddie yelped as Richie dropped him without warning, landing harshly on the grass. He sat up, shaking the leaves out of his hair as he stuck his tongue out at Richie.

“You suck!”

Richie snickered, eyes flashing with something Eddie didn’t quite recognize. “For a dime? Sure.”

Eddie felt his stomach drop, about to open his mouth to question Richie before he felt a hand in his hair, gently ruffling it around. His foul mouthed friend sat down in front of him, wide smile showing off his infamous bucked teeth. The edges of Richie’s eyes were crinkled while he lightly laughed, freckles on his nose scrunched with his ears tinged red. Eddie relaxed almost immediately, giggling at himself for being so stupid. Richie said shit like that all the time, sexual innuendos, it was just a coincidence. He didn’t know.

“Lighten up, Eds, the R man is here!” Richie pinched Eddie’s cheek, earning himself a slap to the hand as Eddie tried to calm his fit of giggles.

“Shut up, beep beep, zip it!” Eddie called, flicking Richie’s nose. The boy recoiled with an amused look of surprise, lightly tapping where Eddie’s fingernails had hit. That did not help with his laughter, thank you very much.

“I’ve been blessed,” Richie whispered in awe, looking back at Eddie with wide eyes. “Pasta has blessed me.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, mumbling yet another 'beep beep’ at Rich. A part of him knew it was odd, that Richie hadn’t stopped talking after the phrase had been uttered, but some days he was just extremely chatty. Nothing could really be done because of it, it was just Richie being Richie.

The two both laughed among themselves, Eddie feeling light, thoughts far away from what he saw at the Nielbolt house. Richie calmed down before Eddie did, surprisingly, staring at him with a small smile and something in his eyes that made Eddie’s chest feel just that much more tight. Not in a bad way, like how his asthma made him feel, but in a… warm way. It was a warm feeling, it was good. Eddie startled a bit when Richie grabbed his hand, lips set in a tight line.

“Eds?” He sounded reluctant. Scared. Eddie squeezed his hand, a little gesture that was always nice between the two. The sudden shift in atmosphere made his laughter disappear in an instant, able to tell that Richie- for once- wasn’t joking around.

“Yeah, Rich?”

Richie picked at the dry grass with his free hand, refusing to meet Eddie’s eyes. “Is it bad to… like…” He curled in on himself ever so slightly. “Boys?”

Eddie blanked, his heartbeat quickening in his chest as he stared at his best friend. “Erm…”

His mommy had always said bad things about boys who like boys, or girls who liked girls, but… his mommy also said Richie was a bad friend. Not everything she said was true, he didn’t have to listen just because she said it.

“Why?”

Settling for a question wasn’t a bad thing. If Richie was trying to tell him something, Eddie wanted to have the right response.

“Because I think…” Richie took a deep breath. “I think I might… like boys…” He looked up at Eddie, brown eyes panicked. “Am I sick, Eddie? Do you- Do you think the Losers will hate me? Am I-” Richie was shaking at this point. “Am I sick?”

Eddie grabbed Richie’s other hand, squeezing them both as he adamantly shook his head. “No, no, you’re not sick, you’re not.” He reassured, dropping one of Richie’s hands in favor of cupping his cheek with the best smile he could muster. “You’re my best friend, you tell shitty jokes, and you make everyone laugh. Who…” Eddie glanced down at their joined hands, suddenly hyper aware of how their skin felt against each other, how warm Richie’s hands were, how muggy the summertime air was.

How fast his heart was beating.

“Who cares if you like boys?” Eddie finished, looking sheepishly back up at Richie. His friend was red in the face, glasses askew on his nose.

“Hey, Eddie?” Richie’s voice was much softer now, the boy leaning closer to Eddie.

“Yeah, Rich?” Eddie whispered, excitement and adrenaline and fear all coursing through him. Was he really going to…? Were they actually…?

Richie’s lips ghosted over Eddie’s, almost a promise of a kiss, a promise of what every older boy talked about at school, talked about how amazing it was. But it was just a promise, one Eddie couldn’t find himself to lean just an inch closer to.

He heard Richie mumble something, Eddie’s eyes fluttering open.

“Huh?” His brain was foggy, everything moving slowly. But in this moment? Well, that wasn’t a bad thing at all, Eddie thought he could sit here with Richie for hours at a time with how he felt.

“For a dime,” Richie repeated, voice barely above a murmur. “Gotta give me a dime, Eds.”

Eddie’s brows scrunched in confusion, hand falling from Richie’s face. “What do you…?” His heart leaping into his throat, Eddie scrambled backwards, back hitting the rough bark of a tree. Richie was smiling at him, his teeth crooked and eyes sunken in.

“A dime, Eds,” Richie said again, slowly crawling toward Eddie. “I’ll do it for a dime, I’ll do anything you want for a dime.”

Eddie felt a sob catch in his throat, hundreds- no, thousands- of balloons rising from the stream behind Richie, blotting out the sun and sky. Richie smelled absolutely foul, like rotten flesh and spoilt eggs and death. How did he not notice that before?

“Don’t you know what happens to boys like us, Eddie?” Drool started to drip from Richie’s almost nonexistent lips, nothing but skin separating his teeth now from the summer breeze. “Don’t you know what happens to boys like you?”

Slowly, a small set of pink balloons floated in front of the red, what was just a jumble of them randomly spread combining into a triangle.

An upside down triangle.

Eddie felt a scream ripped from his throat, Richie now charging at him in awful, jerky motions. He scrambled to his feet, the splintered wood of the tree digging into his back and catching on his fanny pack as he lurched to the side to run. Without and hesitation, Eddie unbuckled the damned thing, bolting into the woods of the Barrens as he heard Richie laugh maniacally behind him.

“DO YOU KNOW, EDDIE? DO YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENS?”

The voice was becoming more and more raspy as he talked, the sounds of leaves and sticks snapping only making Eddie sob harder. He was too fast, he was too fucking fast. There was no way Eddie could outrun him, his lungs were too weak, his legs were so skinny and he was so small, so delicate.

Eddie felt the sole of his shoe glide over one of the rocks that he tried to race over, the moss barely peeking through the leaves on the forest floor. He screamed when he fell, the sound echoing throughout the entirety of the Barrens, hitting his head hard as he splayed out on his back. Eddie choked on his sobs, snot and tears running down his face as he tried desperately to get up, shaking too much to be able to do much of anything. The inhumanely fast crunch of the leaves stopped just behind him, heavy breathing leaving precipitation on his neck.

“Sick, sick boy.” A different voice chimed, the voice of the clown.

Eddie couldn’t help it, he threw up. He threw up while shaking violently and with laughter ringing in his ears, not sure if it grew more distant from his slipping consciousness, or if it was actually leaving him alone. He prayed it was leaving him alone, he prayed that this was all his new medication, and that it was nothing more.

But before the darkness completely involved his vision?

Eddie prayed he wasn’t sick.

When Eddie opened his eyes to the sound of distant chatter hours later, he was laid next to a pool of his own vomit, blood dripping between his eyes as he stared up at the blessedly blue sky. He nearly began to cry again just at the sight of it, laughter bubbling in his chest. He was alive. He was fucking alive!

Eddie began to tell the Losers of his crush on Greta later that week, all smiles and faint blushes and a sickly, wrong feeling in his stomach.

Eddie began to lock the window to his room, too, dealing with his fear of the dark on his own, calming himself down when the nightmares woke him.

…

He wasn’t very good at it.

[shaunasshipman]

semi charmed life | chapter eight | 5.2k | teen|

“You guys have kept in contact this whole time?” Bill asked, brow disappearing underneath hair line as he looked like his old friends in amazement. “And you guys are.. what? Room mates?”

Eddie avoided looking at Richie as he answered. “Yeah, uh… room mates. Something like that.”

[or: the adult!losers reunion, done 2000s sit-com style, just like we all deserve.]

PREVIOUSLY ON SEMI CHARMED LIFE:“Richie? As in, Kaspbrak?” Kay asked, looking at the radio as though it had personally offended her. Mike blinked up at her, mouth opening slightly. “His husband’s a dick | CUTEST COUPLE. Richie traced his hands over the words, smiling softly as he took in the appearance of himself and Beverly Marsh at fifteen. |  Well, we met in 1982 so give or take…” Richie cleared his throat awkwardly. “Thirteen years this November.” |  Stan let out a shaky breath. “In our senior year of high school, I tried to kill myself.” | “Tell you?” Richie bitterly. “Bev, I adore you but it took you almost six months to even speak to me again after we broke up. The last thing I wanted to add onto that was ‘oh, hey, also I’m gay.’” |  “Baby…” Eddie leaned his head onto Richie’s shoulder. “Fuck whatever they think, we have such a good fucking life.”

Kay McCall leaned over the edge of the car, Eddie Kaspbrak pulling himself half out from underneath it and raising his brow at her. “What are you doing here? Thought you had some big fancy museum job. Here to answer the phone for fun?”

Kay gave an eye roll, leaning on the car with her elbows placed upon it and hand in her chin.  “Hey, you’re the one who fired me when I got the museum job. I would’ve gladly  kept answering the phones on my days off.”

Eddie pulled himself out from underneath the car completely, and pushes his to his feet. “You can understand why I’d need a little bit more than somebody who can answers phones on their days off.”

Kay smirked at him. “Yeah, because you’re so busy down here.”

Eddie clenched his jaw and resisted tossing the greasy cloth at his former friend and employee. Instead, he rolled his eyes once again and then glared pointedly at her. “What brings you to this neck of the woods, McCall?”

“Would you believe that I was bored and in the neighbour?” Kay asked lightly, and Eddie made sure not to waver his unimpressed expression for even a moment. Kay sighed. “Alright, fine. I actually came down here to thank you, and I need you not to make a big deal about it.”

Eddie raised his brow and had barely began to smirk when Kay was already holding a finger out to stop him in his tracks. “No! Okay, I just wanted to thank you for firing me. At the time, I was so angry. And I’ve definitely held onto that anger until really recently. But I’ve sort of come to the conclusion myself that you letting me go forced me to really start my life. Loosing my job here was the my life changing moment, so thank you for being such a dick back then.”

Eddie shook his head and let out a disbelieving noise. “You’re welcome for firing you, I guess, but I think that’s a load of shit, Kay. There’s no such thing as a life changing moment, your life changes because you work for it and only when you work for it.”

Eddie turned to walk away then as Kay made an equally annoyed noise behind him. “You’re telling me you can’t think of a single moment in your whole life that you could trace everything back to? There’s no big moment, that changed the course of your life at all?”

Eddie couldn’t help but hesitate there, images of on moonlight on the lake and Richie’s wet hair sticking to his forehead. Richie counting down from ten… and shook his head. “Everything I have in my life I earned and worked for. Just like you, just like everyone.”

Eddie didn’t really hear what response Kay gave him- if she gave him any at all- because his footing slipped in a pile of oil that had gathered on the ground behind him, and Eddie’s head smacked rather roughly against the cement garage floor.

→  →  →

Eddie opened his eyes slowly, groaning at the pounding in the back of his head. He rolled slightly and nearly fell out of his bed. Gasping, Eddie grasped at the edges of the much smaller than he remembered mattress and finally opened his eyes wide. He was suddenly surrounded by pale blue walls that made his stomach churn almost painfully. The cramping sort of reminding him of the time in college when Richie had brought home burritos from a less than trustworthy place down the street from their studio apartment, and they’d both been sick for days. Not liking that much at all, Eddie forces himself to his feet and sways slightly when he gets a rushing of blood to his head.

He nearly falls again- again? Had he fallen before? He couldn’t remember- when the all too familiar screaming that Eddie hadn’t heard in years came carrying up the stairs towards him. “EDDIE BEAR! ARE YOU UP?”

“Yes, Ma!” Eddie called back on the a reflex that made his skin crawl. For a moment, Eddie Kaspbrak was sure- so sure- that he was having some sort of nightmare, Eddie moved towards the mirror in his old childhood bedroom. It wasn’t covered in photographs of himself and his friends, which meant it was at least before junior year, but what Eddie saw in the mirror shocked him to his core.

The scar above his eye from when Richie had convinced a nineteen year old Eddie to get down the stairs in their apartment building on a mattress and resulted in Eddie getting six stitches in his forehead, and their landlord nearly evicting them for being hooligans. The way his nose was now slightly crooked from getting broken with a baseball while playing for the team in college. Shaking from head to toe, Eddie looked down at his trembling hands and saw the paler skin on his ring finger.

Okay, he wasn’t dreaming back up being in high school in his mother’s house but what the hell else could this possibly be? Eddie hadn’t been in contact with his mother for nearly seven years, since he’d gotten married and she’d spent the entire weekend trying to ruin everything for them. Two years back, he’d gotten a phone call from the hospital in Portland, telling him that his mother had suffered a serious stroke, and Eddie had told them to “do whatever they needed to do” and hung up. He didn’t even know if Sonia Kaspbrak was alive. He supposed that they would’ve called him if she’d died, but in truth, he wasn’t bothered either way. Alive or dead, it didn’t matter to Eddie as his mother had been dead to him ever since the day he married Richie Tozier and began his true family.

Heart racing, Eddie grabbed the back pack he’d used in high school- seeming a little bit more warned down than he remembered it being but he couldn’t be too bothered to care about that right now- and started cramming as many clothes as he could into it. All his clothes seemed to look exactly the same, he realized as he opened up his drawers. Fifty button up shirts in different shades of light blue, white and light grey and about a hundred pairs of khaki pants- only one or two pairs of jeans. Eddie crinkled his nose in disgust at the apparent boring person he was in this… reality or whatever it was.

Going down the stairs like four at time, Eddie rushed into the living room. Sonia was sitting in her large armchair in front of the TV, same as she did his whole life and same as she likely did while dying, and she did not look good. Her skin seemed to sag so much on her body that it seemed at risk of melting right off, and her was as white as winter snow. The sunken fashion of her face and dullness of her eyes, Eddie would have guessed that she was already dead if it wasn’t for the steady rise and fall of her chest. Eddie pursed his lips together to hold back his nausea at the sight of her. His ‘mother’ looked him up at down, and Eddie was a little surprised that she could even see him. “You can’t go to work looking like that,” Sonia said to him, sounding bitterly disappointed in him. That was a tone of voice that Eddie was beyond used to with her. “You know that you have to look presentable at the Pharmacy, Eddie Bear. Mr Keene was very nice to hire you right out of high school like he did. Show the man some respect, Edward.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. Working at the pharmacy, with the man who had held cover up his mother’s manipulation of him. Sounds just about fucking right. Eddie had to admit that he didn’t look like somebody about to go to work, in his oversized T-shirt and sweat pants that it seemed was deemed appropriate for sleep wear, and his hair a mess on his head. Eddie wasn’t going to work, so he supposed that was okay.

“I’m not going to work,” Eddie said sharply, trying in the Eddie that hung up the phone on that doctor two years ago, rather than what his soul was screaming at him to do. He was going to tell Sonia the truth, because he’d promised himself almost a decade before that he would never hide his true self from his mother again. “I have to go see Richie.”

Sonia’s face contorted up in confusion. “Richie? Went and Maggie’s boy? I’m quite sure that only the way you’ll be getting to see him, is watching those trashy movies he does on the Netflix. I won’t let you go all the way out to LA, Eddie Bear, and I’m quite sure he doesn’t remember you.” Eddie’s head spun, and a good part of him wanted to run to the closest available computer or television and search Richie up on Netflix to see just what kind of trashy movies his mother was talking about, but Sonia was still going on about Richie. “I hadn’t seen that boy since your high school years, and good riddance. He was never a good person to be hanging around, and he’s just proved that as an adult. Those movies? That slutty wife of his? You’re better off without that hooligan, Eddie Bear, he was never good enough to be your friend.”

He was never just my friend, Eddie thought with a painful lurch of his heart as tears threatened to cloud up his eyes. Richie was famous, Richie was married. Married to somebody that wasn’t him. His chest felt tight, like his breathing was going to cut off any second, as his brain betrayed him with the horrific thoughts that maybe this wasn’t a dream. Maybe his life with Richie, their home and their daughters, had been the real dream all along. He thought of the delicate little braids that Richie would put in Frankie’s hair or how they’d taken down the mobile above Marty’s crib because it scared her, or how Frankie would run through the apartment on her little baby legs trying to keep with Richie’s ridiculously long ones everywhere he went. It couldn’t have all been dream, no dream was so detailed, so real, so… flawed yet perfect. This was the dream, the terrible, terrible dream. There was no other option, because if this was real life than Eddie didn’t know what he would do.

Hiking the backpack higher on his shoulder, Eddie squared his jaw and forced his tears away from his eyes. “I’m going to see Richie, you can’t stop me. I’m an adult.” And oh, it was so similar to the speech he’d given at the end of high school, finally putting his foot down and telling Sonia once and for all that he was going to New York. That he and Richie were going to New York, and that she couldn’t stop him. His heart ached a little bit as he glanced around the childhood home that hadn’t changed since he’d given that speech. Shaking slightly, Eddie began to turn away- not feeling as though he could handle being in his house for another second.

“Edward Franklin Kaspbrak! You get back here!” Sonia called after him. “You can’t leave me! I need you! What if you get sick, Edddieeeee`”

But Eddie just kept going, the version of himself that he’d grown to love knew how to turn his back on Sonia Kaspbrak and he was doing that now. The words she throws at him can’t get to him anymore, because he learned long ago that they were all lies. Every single one were lies, and at one point he hadn’t been able to handle how long he’d believed them. Richie had helped him to get past that, to get to the point of truly being okay with everything he’d suffered through. He needed to get to Richie.

→  →  →

It was only once he’d gotten to L.A that Eddie thought this might have been an entirely huge mistake. All he knew was that Richie lived somewhere in Los Angeles, that he was an extremely successful actor and that he was married. The internet didn’t exactly list his address, and as somebody who loved Richie as much as he did- Eddie was glad for that, even if it was ridiculously inconvenient for himself in this moment.

Standing in the middle of an busy L.A street, Eddie was still bundled in sweats and a T-shirt, only his backpack on his shoulders and feeling ridiculously groggy and jet lagged. His head hurt. There was a hand coming down on his shoulder and Eddie let out a loud scream, nearly toppling into the street as he spun around to see who was about to murder or rob him in the middle of the sidewalk.

Bill Denbrough looked five years older than he did in Eddie’s current (real, he told himself. They were real.) memories. His hair was flat and honestly a little greasy and he was supporting large, thick rimmed glasses that would have put childhood Richie Tozier to shame. His face was a little shrunken, making him look closer to forty than twenty-six. His eyes blew wide open at Eddie’s apparent panic, the only thing making him resemble somebody young. “Eddie!” He gasped, hand quickly dropping away from Eddie’s shoulder to press against his own chest. “Sorry, man. Didn’t mean to frighten you, I just was surprised to see you! Been a long time, man.”

How long a time? Eddie wanted to ask the question, but it soured in his throat and wouldn’t come out. Sonia had implied that she hadn’t seen Richie since they were in high school- going as far as to say that Richie wouldn’t remember him. But Bill had known him from behind, in the middle of the crowded street… Surely Richie would know him. Heart hammering, Eddie just nodded and forced out a “yeah.”

Bill frowned and looked Eddie up and down, looking at his messy appearance and what he didn’t doubt was pain written across his face. “Are you okay, man? You look a mess. I live around here, we can head back to mine. Audra and the kids won’t mind, I’m sure. They’ve heard tons about you-“

Kids? As in, multiple of? Eddie swallowed roughly, taking a change to look at more than just Bill’s tired face. He was dressed in a fitted grey suit, something that the Bill Eddie knew that still wore baseball caps and jeans at twenty-six, would never do. He was supporting a wedding ring, slightly dinged to promote that it was old. Worn out. Bill Denbrough looked like his father.

Eddie shook his head, not wanting to see Bill’s picked white fence life that he’d vowed he’d never have. It would probably make him throw up, or pass out, or both. “I just need a coffee.”

Bill’s worn face seemed to light up, and for a moment he looked like the youthful man that Eddie remembered. “Well, you’re in luck, Kaspbrak! There’s a great coffee shop not far from here, I go there nearly everyday. Follow me, amigo.”

Eddie didn’t have much choice but to follow Bill down the street, holding onto the edge of jacket in fear of loosing him just as he did as child. He was more than thankful that Bill seemed keen on talking, because Eddie wasn’t sure he was going to be able to make words come out if he tried his hardest. His heart raced with every word that Bill told him through the walk.

“Richie’s doing pretty good, you know? I think you’d be proud of him. He was always smart, you know, but he was just miserable in college so he dropped out. Went on all these auditions, his parents were so skeptical about it. But he did it!” Bill had a little glint in his eyes, something that was mostly pride but might have been a little bit of envy, too. “Don’t see him much, but I was at his wedding a couple months back. It was about time they tied the knot, too, you know? Bev and Richie had been together our whole lives, pretty much, I’m not sure what they waited so long for.”

Eddie was pretty sure he let out an actual dry heaving noise when Bill revealed that- after everything Eddie had grown to know about the love of hi life- Richie had married Beverly Marsh. The insecurity he’d had when he and Richie had first gotten together, the fear that Richie would realize he was wrong, that he did love Beverly and wanted to be with her, bubbled back up to the surface but he forced it down. None of this was real, and even in a fake world, Richie and Beverly had put off getting married for nearly a decade.

Bill was looking at Eddie sadly when Eddie brought himself back down to reality.  “Rich said he invited you,” Bill said slowly. “But you didn’t RVSP. Think it tore him up a little bit, even though he wouldn’t say it. Bev kind of pointed out that you guys had drifted apart way back in high school, but Richie had so sure that you were going to show up.”

Okay, yep. Eddie was definitely going to throw up now.

“It wasn’t like it was some big Losers reunion,” Bill continued on, not noticing how Eddie had gone pale and swayed slightly as he walked. “Mike hadn’t been able to make it, and Bev and Rich hadn’t been able to even get a hold of Ben, and even if… Nothing has been the same since Stan, you know…”

For a moment, Eddie didn’t know. He really didn’t- until he did. Until he remembered a certain event that had taken place in their senior year, an event that was only stopped from being complete irreversibly tragic because Richie had gone over to the Uris’ house after his and Eddie’s first fight in their relationship. Eddie had almost thrown up so many times in the last five minutes, he wasn’t sure how he’d managed to hold onto his pride.

“When you started drifting away after your mother didn’t let you go to my lake house that summer, things are started drifting apart. But there hadn’t been any going back after Stan.” Bill sighed sadly, glancing up at the sky as though it held all the answers to life. “I miss it sometimes. Don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Eddie choked out, tears thick in his eyes as frantically rubbed at his face to calm down. This isn’t real, Eddie told himself angrily. Richie and Bev aren’t married, Stan isn’t dead… This is all bullshit. “I uh, I’m here to see Richie. Do you know… could you help me find him?”

Bill raised his brow at Richie. “A little late for a wedding gift, aren’t you?” Eddie gave Bill an unimpressed look as they entered the coffee shop he’d aforementioned. Eddie’s hand was still tight on the bottom of Bill’s suit jacket, but Bill didn’t seem to mind. “Okay, okay. Yeah I know where Bev and Rich live. They’ve got some serious security, but I can get you in. As long as you promise me something.”

“What?” Eddie asked carefully, looking seriously at his childhood best friend while they stood in the long line.

Bill was looking back at him just as a seriously. “You have to promise me that you aren’t going to do anything to hurt him. It’s been almost fifteen years, Eddie. You broke the olive branch, so if he doesn’t want to see you then you need to accept that.”

Eddie hadn’t envisioned a situation where Richie didn’t want to see him. He’d just assumed that Richie’s soul would scream out for Eddie as soon as was anywhere near him and that would be it. The whole universe would shift back into reality, and Eddie would blink and he’d have his life back. If Richie didn’t want to see him, Eddie wasn’t sure how he’d be able to keep living this fucked up broken life.

Before Eddie could give it anymore thought, they had reached the front of the line and he balked at the sight of their barista. Even if his cheeks were sunken into the cheekbones, and his arms were almost disgustingly buff underneath his uniform- it was Ben Hanscom. Eddie would know those brown eyes anywhere, even with the amount of sorrow that they now held. Or the panic that settled over them the second he met Eddie’s gaze.

But Bill just butted on, ordering their drinks as though seeing through the man. Ben jumped back into action, handing them their drinks quickly and then Bill and Eddie were leaving without a single word to their friend. Eddie felt more shaken by this interaction than anything he’d found out thus far. He turned to Bill, looking at him pleadingly. “Bill. That was Ben Hanscom.”

Bill looked over at him, startled and then laughed. “What? Eddie, come on. I got into the shop every damn day, Beverly pretty much lives there on her days off. I think we would’ve noticed if the guy making our coffee was Ben from high school.”

Eddie pursed his lips and shook his head slightly, but figured that he had bigger fish to fry right now than his friends utter obliviousness to the world around them. Once he got back to Richie, everything would go right and Ben wouldn’t be the mysterious guy who makes the coffee.

Bill and Eddie hop into a cab, and Bill gives the address. It’s a huge house, much bigger than two people would ever need, bigger than Richie or Eddie would need now with their children. The millionaire version of the Toziers house back in Derry, where everybody lived so far apart that they never needed to see each other. It made Eddie’s heart hurt a little bit.

“Bev’s car isn’t here,” Bill said, after buzzing them in and an unfamiliar voice buzzed them in. Bill pushed the gate open and they walked through the long drive up towards the wildly extravagant house. Eddie’s palms were sweaty as Bill opened the unlocked door and let them into the house. The front foyer was bigger than the living room of Eddie and Richie’s whole living room back in their lives.

Richie padded into the foyer and he looked so much like Richie that Eddie’s breath caught in his throat. His heart began to race at an almost inhuman pace as he took in Richie’s white T-shirt and paint splattered jeans, his black curls done up messily on top of his head in a bun. He was wearing his glasses and Eddie wanted to run forward and kiss him all over his face. But he couldn’t, and that made every part of Eddie ache. There was no little toddler with braids running into the room behind Richie, and that was a type of hurt that Eddie had truly never felt before.

He forced back tears for what must have been the millionth time in twenty four hours and found Richie staring at him with disbelief written all over his face. “Eds…” He said it so slowly, and the nickname dug deeply at Eddie’s soul. He couldn’t hold back the sob that was wrenched from him, and he clasped his hand over his mouth a little too late to muffle it. Richie’s shocked face seemed to soften with concern, and Eddie could feel the way Bill was staring at him but he didn’t have any eyes free just now.

“We can talk in my office,” Richie said, his voice was rough like he’d been smoking for forty years and stiff like he was creating a business transaction with a stranger. Eddie’s heart had clenched so many times lately he wasn’t sure how it was even still beating, but he followed Richie without any hesitation. Richie closed the office door behind them, and sat on top of his desk. He looked at Eddie’s awkward figure for a long time, before sighing. “It’s good to see you, Eds. Been too long.”

And then Eddie was finally crying. Every tear that he’d been fighting off since waiting up in Derry yesterday exploded out of him all at once. Pressing both hands on his mouth, Eddie bent slightly at the middle and let out sobs that were long out of his control. Chest heaving, he forced himself to meet Richie’s troubled gaze.

“This is the worst fucking thing that I’ve ever happened to me,” Eddie heaved out through shaking breaths. “Worse than my dad dying, worse than anything my mom ever put me through. I fucking hate this so much.”

Richie visibly swallowed, tugging on his earlobe. “Eddie, can you please tell what’s happening, right now? I want to help, but I can’t if you don’t tell me what’s the matter. Do you need money?”

Eddie exhaled hard and closed his eyes. “I don’t need money, I need my life. My family. My husband, my girls… I need you, Rich, and I need you to remember. I need you to remember our lives together- our real lives, Richie. Our life. Together. Me and you. Our house, our kids… Everything that was ours.”

“I….” Richie was looking at Eddie like he was crazy, and God… Eddie would do anything for Richie not to look at him like that ever again. “Eddie, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Can you please speak sense to me, please?”

“You don’t believe me.” Eddie said, breaking slightly before sucking his bottom lip into his mouth to keep any sense of composure he could possibly have in this moment.

Richie let out a long sigh, and looked at Eddie sadly. “Do I believe what? That you and I are secretly married with kids, and I’ve somehow forgotten it all? No, yeah, I find that a little hard to believe.”

Eddie sniffled and rubbed angrily at his eyes. “This is all fucked up. This isn’t how things are supposed to be! It’s supposed to be me and you! Richie…”

Richie pushed up to said and looked at Eddie so fiercely that for a second Eddie thought that Richie was going to kick him out. But Richie deflated as quickly as he puffed up. “You’re right, I thought that, too. Right up until there wasn’t a cute ass Kaspbrak bursting into the church at my wedding, interrupting at the perfect time just the movies. I realized then that this had never been right, and that I needed to let go of this bullshit crush on a dude I haven’t spoken to in ten years.”

Eddie squeezed his eyes shut. “Why did you marry Bev if you don’t love her?”

“Awe, heck, Eds, I do love her.” Richie said with a chuckle. “It’s Bev, how could you not? She’s stood by me even through the last five years after I stopped having sex with her, and we both pretend I don’t know that she’s sleeping with one of those dudes who make coffee at her favourite shop. It works, I guess.”

“It could be better,” Eddie said fiercely, entire body suddenly shaking with adrenaline, stepping forward and taking Richie’s hands in his own. Sparks shot through Eddie’s entire body, and he knew Richie felt it too with how his eyes blew open wide. “You and me, a townhouse in New York, two kids. Little girls, beautiful, healthy… everything we could want. Our life, maybe it’s not perfect, but it’s better than this and I wouldn’t want anything else.”

Richie’s eyes had tears in them now, too, and he’s squeezing Eddie’s hands back. “Eddie, that sounds amazing, but you have to know it’s crazy, right? What do you think- one morning you woke up and suddenly we’ve lived completely different lives? Doesn’t that sound crazy?”

“Stop telling me what you think,” Eddie pleaded. “Tell me what you feel.”

Richie’s mouth opened and closed a few times, and then he let out a watery laugh. “I feel like… when you just dropped me as a friend after you didn’t go to Bill’s lake house was one of the worst things I’d ever been through. I was so confused, Eds, because I liked you so much. But I was with Bev, and I’d been with her forever, you know? I loved her, even if I was confused. She was one of the most important people in my life, and you weren’t taking to me anymore. I sort of assume that you’d figured out that I was crushing on you, and that was your way of telling me it was never going to happen.” Eddie started shaking his head, open his mouth to speak but Richie rushed right over him. “Then Stan died and you still wouldn’t talk to me, so I tried to tell myself that you were just a dick. It didn’t work great, but it worked enough. I threw myself into my relationship with Beverly, and even though something was always holding me back I could tell myself that it wasn’t you.”

“But it was me.” Eddie said, and it had meant to be a question but it didn’t come out that way. Because Eddie knew it was him, because Eddie knew that he and Richie were meant to be together in any universe.

“Yeah, Eds. It was you. It was always you.” Richie stepped closer, noses touching. “Also, I’m going to kiss you now.”

Eddie gasped, and his mouth moved faster than his thoughts. As soon as he spoke, he knew exactly where the words were coming from. “You can’t.”

Richie raised his eyebrows. “You can’t just say this kind of stuff to me and expect me not to kiss you. I’m going to count to ten, and then I’m going to kiss you. If you don’t want to do that, then I guess you’re just going to have to stop me.”

Richie only counted to three before Eddie was catching his lips in a harsh kiss.

→  →  →

“Come on, Eds baby. Let me see those eyes.”

Eddie groaned, eyes fluttering open. The lights in the garage made his head hurt twice as bad but he quickly forgot the pain when he realized Richie was kneeling above him, looking concerned. Eddie quickly caught sight of Kay kneeling by Richie’s side, and realized that he was, in fact, laying on the ground in his automotive garage.

Gasping out a overjoyed “RICHIE!”, Eddie lunged forward, throwing his arms around Richie’s shoulders and pressing frantic kisses over his husbands face.

“Eds, baby…” Richie laughed, managing to sound both relieved and mildly concerned at the same time. “We should maybe take to see a doctor, Kay says you hit your head pretty bad. You were out a few minutes before I got here…”

A few minutes? Was that all it took to change a person’s outlook on life? Eddie laughed out loud, cupping Richie’s cheeks in his hands and squishing them together. He leaned up and kissed Richie’s nose. “No hospital, Rich. Just take me home. I need to see my babies.”

[honeycombandtea]

made for the @itfandomprompts ​ ‘first time’ prompt!

warnings: none

pairings: reddie, stanlon (if you squint)

summary: The Losers enjoy a hot day by the water, but Eddie has some internal conflict about one of his best friends.

              “Jesus, Eds! It’s hotter than your mother in a bikini out here,” Richie groaned as he slumped down underneath the shade of the tree. Eddie rolled his eyes and handed him a bottle of sunscreen.

              “Put this on before you look like a lobster, dumbass,” Eddie said with a sigh. Richie held a huge grin on his face as he unceremoniously slapped sunscreen onto his freckle-kissed shoulders. Bev splashed in the water just a couple of feet in front of them, close enough to even sprinkle water on Eddie’s legs as he attempted to dodge a rather big spray. Ben held her securely on his shoulders as they charged around the quarry, Mike and Stan tailed after them. Albeit Stan looked reluctant as all hell—his knuckles white around Mike’s broad shoulders. Ben swooped down and planted a huge kiss on Beverly’s cherry red lips. Richie gagged.

              “Save room for Jesus!” Richie called from his spot in the grass. Beverly had spared a moment to flip him off before she crawled back on Ben’s shoulders. He bumped his shoulder against Eddie’s in a sloppy movement. “Don’t you think all this romance stuff is gross?” He asked with a snort as he wriggled his toes in the grass. Eddie shrugged his shoulders and took a long drink from his water.

              “You were just dating someone a month ago, Richie,” Eddie reminded with a chuckle as he bumped his shoulder back. Richie made finger guns in response and reached down to the small bag he brought with him. He pulled out a frosted looking coke and a cosmic brownie, and without having looked, he tossed it back to Eddie. “Thanks, Rich!” Eddie said as he tore the plastic open. “These are my favorites.”

              “Yeah, I know,” Richie stated easily as he took a drink. Eddie watched the way his Adam’s apple bobbed. “You can pay me back by letting me have some alone time with Mrs. K.” Eddie snorted and lightly kicked Richie’s shin.

              “She wouldn’t go for you— and she’s been blind dating for years,” Eddie said with his eyebrows raised. Richie feigned a look of betrayal as he flopped down onto the dark grass. Derry was known for having mild summers, but this one was a scorcher. Nearly every day in June the Losers found themselves in the cool, almost comforting, water of the quarry. Eddie wasn’t allowed to go most days, but Richie had helped him come up with an elaborate lie about summer homework and studying. Truthfully, this summer Eddie had found himself studying the way Richie’s eyes crinkled up when he laughed; or how his cheeks were furiously dusted in freckles from the sun. At best, these feelings made him feel weird—even kept him up at night sometimes—at worst, they made him sob hot tears into his pillow. He shook his head as he leaned back against the bark of the tree. This was something he didn’t need right now.

              “Earth to Spaghetti Head!” Richie called from beside him. Eddie’s head snapped in his direction almost immediately. “Whatcha thinking about, Eds?” He asked as he lazily shoved his glasses back up on his nose. From the quarry in front of them, they could hear the noises of Bill being shoved in the water. “Get him, Ben! Put him in a world of hurtin’!” Richie called as he stretched to look over his shoulder. Eddie rolled his eyes and he pulled his knees to his chest.

              “Don’t call me that,” he said half-heartedly as he curled his toes into the blanket. “I’m just…thinking about college.” Richie sighed as he scooted closer, the warmth from his body almost radiated onto Eddie’s skin.

              “We’re not even staring senior year yet,” Richie said as he spared a glance towards Eddie. The sun made his brown eyes shine like raw amber—Eddie had to look away to spare himself the guilt. “There’s time to just be dumb,” he tried again as he put a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. He flinched from the sparks that crackled as their skin brushed together and scooted away. Richie’s hand dangled in the air for a few awkward seconds before he placed it in his lap.

              “You’re always dumb, Richie,” Eddie said with a smile as he stared at those bright eyes. Richie stared back at him for a few moments, as if he wanted to say something, but he screwed his eyes shut and laughed.

              “Yeah, yeah. I’m dumb until I’m helping you pass calculus, Eds,” Richie said as he jabbed his fingers into Eddie’s side. He squealed with laughter as he flopped back on the blanket with a soft thud. Arms flew out and tangled together as they both wrestled around under the shade of a massive Birch tree. “Cute, cute, cute!” Richie laughed as he pinned Eddie’s arms above his head. Eddie shook his head rapidly in response and tried to fight back a smile.

“Get off!” He gasped with laughter. The silence from above filled him with a sudden shot of panic. Eddie opened his eyes hastily to see Richie as he stared down at him, his lips parted slightly. The dark curls that made up Richie’s hair hung loosely around his jaw like a frame for a painting. His chest moved with every breath, every exhale and inhale. “Rich?” He asked softly as he watched Richie’s glasses slip further down his nose. “Richie, your glasses—”

Richie moved off him swiftly and shoved his glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose. The silence between them was thicker than the dense summer air. “You had somethin’ on your nose,” he said with a small grin as he flopped back on the grass. He looked like he was conflicted with something, but Eddie didn’t want to push it.

              “Right,” Eddie said back. Bill wrapped a towel securely around his waist as he sat down next to Eddie. “Hey, Bill,” Eddie greeted with a little wave.

              “Big Bill!” Richie called as he propped himself up on his elbows. “Looking absolutely delish today. Is that a new chest hair?” He asked as he rose his eyebrows up and down. Bill moved his towel rapidly through his hair to semi-dry it.    

“B-Beep beep, R-Richie,” he said with an eye roll. “H-hey, what happened t-to you and S-S-S—”

              “Stacy,” Eddie supplied for him. Bill gave him a grateful smile.

              “I dunno, she didn’t wanna deal with my huge wang,” Richie supplied with a cackle as he fell back on the blanket. Bill sighed as he leaned his face into his hand.

              “I h-heard y-you didn’t even k-k-kiss her,” he accused with a slow smirk. Richie’s face looked shocked—then horrified. He quickly sat up and strangely enough looked at Eddie.

              “We kissed!” He squeaked as he crossed his arms over his chest. “I couldn’t get her off me, that dog.” Bill gave him a knowing look as he flicked his eyes to Eddie.

              “H-have you k-kissed anyone, Eddie?”

Eddie choked on his drink of water and spat it out on the grass. His tanned face was a light pink as he flushed to his ears. “I mean…not really,” he admitted with a glare in Bill’s direction. Bill looked over his shoulder and called to Stan.

              “S-S-Stan! W-we leaving s-soon?”

Stan walked over, bird book clutched under one arm, and tossed a wet curl from his eyes. “Everyone’s packing up, so I’m leaving you to connect the dots, Bill,” he quipped. Richie blew kisses at him and made loud smacking noises with his lips. Stan made gagging noises in response.

“I know you love me, Stan the Man!” Richie said with a cartoonish wink. Bill got up and wiped the loose grass from his legs.

              “We’re h-heading back t-to mine f-for movies and p-p-popcorn. You in?” He asked with a child-like smile. Eddie frowned as he scratched his cheek.

              “I would, Bill, but my mom said I had to be back before dark,” Eddie whined as he stuck his lips out in a pout. Bill gave him a small reassuring smile as he turned his attention to Richie.

“I’ll stay with Eds a little while longer.” Bill shrugged and took off with the rest of the group up the hill and towards his place.

“See you guys later!” Mike and Bev called as they followed behind the others. Richie blew them all a huge kiss, and Bev eagerly caught it in her fingers. The summer breeze wrapped itself around them like a friendly embrace. Eddie began to pick at the grass as he struggled with something to say.

“Is it true?” He asked as he lifted his gaze to Richie. He peered up at the clouds with an almost a sad glint in his eyes. “About you not kissing her?”

“What would you do with the answer, Eds?” Richie asked as he looked back at him. The breeze wrapped around his curls and tugged them any direction it pleased. Eddie watched as the chocolate color turned almost honey-like in the sunlight.

“I don’t know,” Eddie said softly as he stared helplessly at the boy in front of him. The sun was beginning to dip in the sky; the world around them descended into orange thanks to the light of the evening. It was like a moment caught in pictures or detailed in a canvas.

“I’m saving it for someone,” Richie said. His face wasn’t crinkled up in the way it does when he’s joking or playing around. This was a rare moment that Richie Tozier expressed exactly how he felt. Eddie found it hard to breathe, almost as if he needed his inhaler again. Why did he feel that way? He hadn’t in years.

“Maybe…” Eddie started as he bit down on his lip. “Maybe I am, too.”

Richie wiped his hand on his swim trunks and leaned closer to Eddie. He smelled like coke and nicotine, like all the things Eddie’s mother hated, and Eddie loved it. He drunk it in like it was a drug—he needed more. The space between them became smaller and smaller until their noises bumped clumsily together. Richie let out a tight-sounding chuckle.

              “Watch where you’re going, mister,” he chided. Eddie rolled his eyes and quickly licked his bottom lip. He didn’t miss how Richie followed the motion. The two boys stared at each other for seconds on end.

              “You just going to stare at me?” Eddie said with a roll of his eyes. Richie gaped back at him with a flush high on his cheeks, so Eddie decided it was now or never. He grabbed onto Richie’s shoulders and collided their mouths together in a messy kiss. Richie tasted like chocolate and the warmth of holding hands in the dead of winter. His hair beneath Eddie’s fingers felt like ropes that held him onto this moment. Held him steady and calmed the fear that he knew he’d deal with after. They pulled away, breathless and red in the face, and laughed. Richie wiped a tear from under his glasses and giggled away.

              “That was good, Eds. Your mom was better, though.”

              “I hate you, Richie. You know that?” Eddie asked as he curled his fingers around Richie’s with a squeeze.

              “Oh, trust me, I know,” Richie said as he squeezed back.

None of the Losers were surprised when they started dating the very next day, but especially not Bill Denbrough.

[stellarbisexual]

A Memory of Love (2/?)

Summary: Richie and Eddie, who haven’t seen each other since they were kids, get cast as the lead couple in an indie film.

Canon-divergent, Reddie are in their 30s.

Previously: Chapter 1

READ ON AO3

Chapter 2: TABLE READ

When Richie arrives at Greg’s house a few short weeks later, his co-star is already sitting by the pool, just a tuft of fluffy, chestnut hair peeking out over the back of a lounge chair, one bare foot skimming the surface of the water in a hypnotic left-to-right motion.  

“Ah, there’s the love of my life!”  Richie’s booming voice disrupts the quiet, prompting Eddie to peer around the side of the chair, his mouth agape, squinting in the bright sun.

Richie’s heart lurches violently in his chest, nearly taking his breath away, to the point where he makes a mental note to pick up some Prevacid on the way home—but as Eddie unravels himself to approach, one nervous hand righting his hair and the other clutching a curled up copy of an already heavily marked-up script, Richie exes out that note.

He and Eddie didn’t connect before today.  He’d thought about it, but something held him back, maybe a desire to have this moment.

Eddie’s eyes flicker amber in the sunlight as he takes Richie in with a sweet smile.  “Hi, Richie.”

“Long time no see, Eddie Spaghetti.”  The nickname is out of his mouth before he even knows what the hell it is (like most everything else Richie ever says—and he wishes he could blame the improv background), and Eddie giggles, a high, musical thing that inspires Richie to pull him in for a tight hug.  Eddie’s still pretty tiny, his hair tickling Richie’s clavicle.

“You two know each other?”  Greg looks both perplexed and pleased.

Richie tries conjuring an image, anything, from when they were kids, but there’s that black hole again.  He holds Eddie at arm’s length, watching an elaborate cycle of emotions flit across his expressive face, feeling helpless without a key to decipher them.  “We’re both products of Shittown, USA, AKA Derry, Maine.”

“Where dreams go to die,” Eddie says without missing a beat, squinting up at Richie.

*

Richie begins the table read a little nervous and a little on his guard; despite having taken proper acting classes and doing theatre in college, this is still totally new to him, and he fully expects Eddie to make him feel out of his league, not just because Richie’s a lowly fucking comedian but because he’s never had a serious relationship with a man in his life.  He doesn’t expect Eddie to be a dick about it, but he expects him to want to take control and subtly steer him right if he goes off course, maybe even get frustrated with him from time to time.

But there’s no sign of that, at least not today.  Eddie is open and kind, complimentary, even, reassuring Richie You’re so perfect for this role when he makes his first of many self-deprecating remarks before they actually start to read.  Plus, it’s clear three pages into the script that they’re both still just seeing how the words taste in their mouths, taking the pressure off considerably.  

It never occurs to Richie that Eddie might be nervous as hell, too, but he admits just that as they drive away from Greg’s house, the sky beginning to go orange and pink.  Richie’s offered to take him back to his hotel, as Eddie’s only in town for a few days and isn’t getting a rental.

Eddie pushes a big breath out of his mouth.  “I was so fucking nervous about today.”

“You were nervous?”  Richie’s eyebrows shoot up.  “I actually puked this morning.”

“No you didn’t!”  Eddie smacks his shoulder playfully.  

“Scout’s honor,” Richie says, flashing two fingers, his smile threatening to break his face.  “Strap yourself in; the daily embarrassments of Richie Tozier have only just begun.”

Eddie stares at his profile, face naked in a way that nearly tears Richie’s eyes away from the six lanes of freeway traffic.  “I’m really excited we’re working together.” His voice is soft.

For all that Greg has expressed the director’s concern about creating enough intimacy between her two lead actors, it sure feels fucking intimate in Richie’s car right about now.

Richie resists the urge to make a joke, taking a deep breath.  “Me too.” He licks his lips, swallows. “Hey: you wanna get a drink?  I’m not ready to go home yet. Still feel buzzy, like the night after a show.”

Eddie smiles, relaxing into the passenger seat, his body still slightly angled toward Richie’s.  “Sure.”

*

Once they’re settled in at the bar, Richie takes the opportunity to look at Eddie the way he couldn’t in the car, deciding he hadn’t given his face enough credit.  Eddie’s pretty fucking gorgeous, truth be told, all big, sparkling hazel eyes and dark, elegant eyebrows. He watches Eddie’s mouth purse as he examines the drink menu, wet and pouty, and wonders hopefully if they’ll end up hooking up during filming.  

Richie has to mentally smack himself for even thinking it.   You’re here to work, you fucking idiot, so get serious for once in your life.

“I hope this is okay,” he says, gesturing vaguely at their surroundings.  He chose one of his go-to dive bars in Culver City (seems like an oxymoron with how expensive the area’s gotten) since he wanted to be able to hide.  “I know you don’t spend that much time here, so I wasn’t sure if you wanted to go to one of those chichi twenty-dollar cocktail places on Sunset just for the experience.”

“No, thanks, this is way more my speed.”

Richie orders himself a pickleback, which inspires a full-body shiver of disgust from Eddie, and Eddie orders a gimlet.  

“So,” Richie says, after shooting the whiskey, then shoots the pickle juice.  “Teach me all about method acting.”

Eddie giggles that sweet, melodic giggle again, then surprises Richie with his retort: “I thought you were going to teach me how to get on TFS.  That’s the only reason I agreed to even do this movie.”

“I still couldn’t tell you how I got on that show, so you’re out of luck there, my friend.”  Richie starts playing with the empty shot glasses, flipping them over and sliding them around on the bartop like a street performer doing a trick.  “Seriously, though. I want to know more about how you work and what you need from me, how I can help you do whatever you need to do.”

“I mean, I want this to work for the both of us, first and foremost.  And I’m not Daniel Day-Lewis; I don’t need the full enchilada. I’m not going to make you or the entire crew call me Thomas between takes or anything,” Eddie says, referring to his character in the film.  “Did Greg tell you I was this big method actor? I’m really not that crazy with it; I just take bits and pieces, whatever works for me—and I like being experimental. But I’ve worked with a lot of actors who don’t subscribe to it at all, and it’s fine.”  Eddie’s nose crinkles as he smiles at Richie’s expression. “You look disappointed. Were you hoping to try it? Because if you’re open to some of it…”

“I’m definitely open,” Richie says decisively.  “I just want to do well.” Eddie seems to perk up considerably at that, which gives Richie an odd feeling of pride.  “Let’s not talk about work anymore. How long have you been in New York?”

Eddie’s response is quick and sounds rehearsed.  “Since I was eighteen. Left my mom’s house and never looked back.”

“Shit.  Your mom.  Big lady?” Richie opens his arms wide, eyes narrowed, trying to recall her face and failing.  Eddie nods quietly. “I met her at least once, right?”

“A few times.”

Richie watches him sip generously on his gimlet.  “How much do you remember from when we were kids?  I’m getting the impression it’s way more than I do.”

Eddie studiously stares at his half-empty drink.  “Not much more than you, probably. You did tease me relentlessly; I do remember that.”

“Ugh,” Richie grimaces.  “I was such a pain in the ass then.”

“No, you meant well, I think.”  Eddie shakes his head, lifting his eyes at him in a way that threatens to give him heartburn again.  “It was cute.”

Richie inhales sharply, clearing his throat.  “You haven’t been back to Derry at all?”

“...Well.  For my mom’s funeral, back in 2010.”

“I’m so sorry.  You should’ve—.”

Eddie shrugs.  “It never changes.  Derry. It’s kind of freaky that way.  New York is changing all the time. People coming and going.”  Eddie stirs the tiny straw around his drink, though it’s down to almost just ice.  “I saw you once—in New York. You came to do stand-up.”

Richie lights up.  “What? When?”

“Uhhh.”  Eddie’s eyes drift up to the ceiling, trying in vain to read the date there.  “2008? 2009? You were at Gotham.”

Richie shudders.  “That sounds right.  The dark ages.”

“You were great,” Eddie says encouragingly, and either he’s a really good actor or he really means it.

“...Why didn’t you say hello?”

Eddie cuts his eyes at him, teasing, “Would you have remembered me, asshole?”

Richie cackles.  “Bev and I reconnected, you know, a few years back.  We hang out all the time.”

“Beverly Marsh?  Wow.”

“Yeah.  She’s in fashion and she does production design sometimes—when they pay her enough.”

“That’s really cool.”  

Eddie looks terribly fond.  Richie understands; Bev’s got a way about her.

“She remembers even less about Derry than I do.  Or so she says. But she remembers you. Was very eager to pore over your IMDb page when I told her the news.”

“My whopping five or six credits.”

“Five or six dramatic credits, at least.  My page is just TFS, a stoner movie, and a bunch of Funny or Die videos.”

“Okay, we’ve already established that we’re both feeling really insecure about this.  So here’s to being on even footing, at least.” He raises his empty glass to Richie, and Richie lifts one of his empty shot glasses from the table, not bothering to flip it upright before clinking it against Eddie’s.  Eddie motions to the bartender, then quietly asks Richie, “Do you want another?”

Richie opts for something lighter, a beer, since he’s driving, though he anticipates they’ll be here long enough that they’ll both come right back around to sober by the time they finally leave.  The conversation just has that feeling about it. He and Eddie just have that feeling about them, between them. It’s thrilling and a little scary.

Once they’re all set for drinks again, Richie leans on one of his fists.  “I’m not sure I ever had you pegged to become an actor.”

“I didn’t either; it just sort of happened.  My therapist pushed me into drama therapy when I was in college, and it was more effective than any session we’d ever had.”  Eddie rolls his shoulders, clearly trying to relax them. “I had a lot of anger to work through. Still do,” he smiles ruefully.

“So you were being method before you even knew what it was.”

Eddie’s smile turns into a sweet, generous thing.  “Yeah, you can say that. It was the best place for me to start because it wasn’t about being good; it was just about being honest.”

Richie can’t remember a time, even as a kid, when he wasn’t dead set on being good, on being funny, on being liked.

“There wasn’t really a proper audience, so the audience didn’t matter—and it still doesn’t, for me.”

Richie makes a distressed sound.  “Can’t relate, my friend. If I’m not getting a laugh, I’d rather walk into oncoming traffic.”

Eddie looks at him.  “I’ve never been funny—not intentionally, anyway—so I can’t relate to that.”

“Do you wanna—?” Richie starts impulsively, stopping to take a drink when Eddie looks at him again, all endless eyes and open mouth.

“What?”

Richie takes another drink, fortifying himself.  “I have a crazy idea. For Blue Valentine, Michelle Wiliams and Ryan Gosling lived in a house with each other for a whole month leading up to shooting, so they could be in each other’s space and learn about each other and develop a real relationship—so it would hopefully translate in their performances as this couple who’s been together for years.”  

“So I’ve heard.”  Another smile threatens the corners of Eddie’s mouth.

“...Do you have anything going on before we start rehearsals?”

“No.”

“We don’t have to do a whole month—I’m probably a nightmare to live with—”

Eddie laughs, and Richie’s heart can’t help chasing the sound, wanting more.

“But maybe a couple of weeks?  There’s plenty of room at my house.”

“Okay, easy, TFS,” Eddie teases.

Richie’s even more thrilled at this bit of playful snark.  He actually doesn’t have a comeback, or maybe he’s just too hellbent on getting Eddie’s answer.

Finally, Eddie puts him out of his misery.  “I’m just kidding. That’s a great idea.”

And that’s how it starts.  

permatag list: @reddie-to-fight @hurleyhugo @raspberrywind @losver-kaspbrak @lilgeorgie @geckolover001 @its-stranger-than-you-think @gazebo-motherfucker @waypunsarelife @reddietofall @happytozier @librablossom @aesteddie @tapetayloe@spagheddi-kaspbrak @sadhelianthus @adhdtozier @justcallme-trashmouth @fuckboyrichie @thetheatregal @bandaids @20gayteeneds @richietoaster @burymestanding @reddiepop@notsugarandspice @peniswises

a memory of love list: @artofhely @trippy-alexissss @feelinsorad @where-ismy-miind @justanothetfangirl

[just-jordie-things]

An Angel’s Trashmouth - Richie Tozier

word count: 2498 warnings: swearing requested! i hope you like it nonnie! this was fun to write for ya

“y/n that’s a cute outfit!” Beverly called as you parked your bike at the rack outside the school.  You smiled sweetly back at her, looking down for a moment like you’d forgotten you’d even changed.

“Thanks Bev, you’re sweet” You said bashfully with a voice like pure vanilla.  Your entire persona radiated sunshine.  From your overall skirt with a pastel pink long sleeved shirt underneath the denim suspenders.  White keds with lacey hemmed socks.  Your smile was contagious and your eyes sparkled with a constant delight.

You were quite the character in the Loser’s Club.  Though you weren’t technically a part of it.  Really your friends were just Beverly, Bill, Ben, and Eddie.  Stan steered clear of you as he was sure to keep the trashmouth out of your presence, and Mike wasn’t around the school since he was homeschooled, so you’d only met him once or twice.  Richie, well Richie was always conveniently being pulled away by Stan or someone else in an attempt to not have the two of you introduced.

He was just too vulgar.  You and him being in the same room together would only lead yo your disgust in the boy the Losers were sure, so they did what they could to preserve your kindness, while also maintaining your friendship.  It was awkward at times, but it worked.  And you were never really aware of what was happening.

Richie, on the other hand, was.

Bill and Eddie knew that Richie had the most massive crush on you, in fact anyone around him knew.  He had a knack for never shutting up.  And you were a headline of many of his ramblings.  They had the tendency to be nice things, he wasn’t often dirty when speaking of you.  But he was still Richie Tozier.  He had his moments.  The group just figured it was best to keep you seperated.  Richie wasn’t a fan of that, but never had the chance to see you anyways.

Or the courage to.

“Are you going to your locker?” Beverly asked as you slung your too-heavy backpack over your shoulder and headed to the doors.

“Yeah, I’m gonna dump half the contents in this suitcase” You giggled and she laughed as well.

Inside the school, Richie was leaning tiredly against the locker next to Bill’s.  While the stuttering boy was exchanging books and folders in his bag.

“Are we hanging out today?” The glasses-wearing boy asked.  Bill bit the inside of his cheek, knowing for a fact that he was meeting Bev Eddie and you after school at the Barrens.

“Uh I-I-I d-d-don’t kn-know-”

“Your stutter gets worse when you lie Bill” Richie sighed.  “We’ve been friends since diapers, I pick up a few fucking things” Bill sighed again, embarrassed that he had to lie to one of his best friends.

“It’s j-j-just not a g-g-good day t-t-to hang ou-out” He reasoned, but Richie didn’t care.  He was tired of this ‘protective’ bullshit that his friends had over you.  He wasn’t going to completely shatter your innocence and ruin your reputation.

Hell, he could barely speak to you or even look at you without his face heating up to a bright pink color.

“Really Bill?” Richie complained.  “Am I really such a threat to-” He cut himself off as his eyes caught the familiar sight of y/h/c hair.  His eyes fixated on you as you passed through the busy hallways with Beverly at your side.  You were smiling, small giggles passing through your pretty lips as Bev had said something that must have made you laugh.  Your eyes sparkled and your nose crinkled slightly as you laughed, and Richie felt a longing to be the cause of you laughing like that.

“You ever just look at someone and…” Richie trailed off as you and your red-headed friend were farther down the hall at your locker.  Richie sighed as he slumped against the metal row of lockers by Bill.  “Wow” He finished quietly.  Bill looked between you and Richie, a curious expression laced into his features.

“W-what suddenly y-y-you love her?” He pondered, even though he was actually certain that Richie had fallen harder for the sweet girl than the Losers had originally guessed.

“No of fucking course not!” Richie hissed, eyes narrowing though his heart skipped with the slight lie.  “I mean… how would I know?” His face grew hot and his hands clammy, his accusatory glare towards Bill softening as his gaze fell back to you again.

Bill huffed, knowing he’d likely regret what he was going to say next.

“W-well maybe y-you c-c-can come hang out w-with us t-t-today after s-school” Bill suggested.  Richie looked at Bill with wide and hope filled eyes.

“Really!?” He asked, maybe a little too loud.  A few students passing gave him a look but he didn’t care.

“Yeah j-just d-don’t make me re-regret this o-okay?” More fast nodding.

Richie spent the whole rest of the day thinking of things to talk to you about.  Mr Fillman’s head that was so bald it reflected light, the weird lunch food, Street Fighter, to be honest he had no idea what to say.  What do you talk to girls about? What do they like? It can’t all be shoes and makeup and hair can it?

He wouldn’t have cared if it was, he’d listen to you talk all day about anything and everything.  Hell, he’d sit and watch the grass grow if it meant he could do it sitting next to you.

But as the hours passed and the second and on the clock ticked closer and closer to the final bell, he found himself growing nervous.  Me, nervous? No way.

“Dude, you’re shaking” Richie looked over to Beverly who was sat next to him in Chemistry.  “Are you having a panic attack?”

“No” Richie said like he was offended.  “What do I look like Eddie?”

“No.  You look like a boy who’s got a crush on a girl that’s way out of his league” Bev said with a small laugh.  Richie sneered back at her.

“Fuck off Molly Ringwald” The girl rolled her eyes.

“Look, I’m only saying this cause you’re my friend, but she’s my friend too.  And sometimes opposites attract but you’re just… so opposite” She said with wide eyes.  “Like damn you just had to go for the complete other side of the spectrum of personalities-”

“Alright alright I get it she’s way too good for me” Richie muttered.

“I don’t mean it in a bad way I’m just… pointing it out” She told him in a kinder voice.  He nodded, not saying anything.

He didn’t really take into account how low his chances with you really were.

When Richie arrived at the quarry, you were sat in the grass by yourself.  Not one other Loser there, just you and him.  You had looked up from where you were smoothing your hands over the ground and was surprised to see him there.  Richie never hung out around you.

“Hey” You smiled warmly as he set his bike against a tree.  He seemed just as surprised as you.

“Hey… y/n” He replied warily, wandering over to you.  “Where is… well everyone?” You chuckled quietly under your breath and shrugged.

“I dunno” You said, looking around yourself as if your friends would appear out of thin air.  But your eyes just landed back on the curly headed boy standing in front of you.  “Well sit down, the view’s great up here” You patted the space next to you and Richie hesitantly sat down.

“Was your day good?” He spoke before thinking through what he wanted to say.  Instantly he mentally slapped himself at such a cringey thing to say.

“Yeah actually it was pretty good.  Surprising huh?” You giggled softly as you gave him a knowing smile.  “I think the only thing all us students think is that Derry High is just about hell on earth”

“Fucking Derry is hell on earth” Richie nearly slapped himself across the face for cursing.  He’d tried to keep it under control, seeing that he’d never heard you cuss before but you laughed again.

“Preach” You said softly.  “I don’t know what’s worse, the school, or Bowers”

“Bowers bothers you?” Richie asked his eyes wide and brows raised with utter shock.  But you gave him a confused look in return.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just… I just… he picks on all the…. Well the losers.  And that’s definitely not you” Richie spoke slowly to keep better control over his words.  Your brows stayed scrunched together, but a faint smile tugged on your lips at the strange form of a compliment.

“Henry will beat the shit out of anyone who dares look at him, I don’t know what makes me any different” You told him like you were teaching a lecture.  Richie thought for a few moments, about the hundreds of things that put you apart from all the other students at Derry High.  “I just realized that we don’t have any classes together, do we?” Richie looked over at you as your lips tugged into a slight pout.

“No, we don’t” He confirmed with a small shrug of his shoulders.

“That must be why I don’t see you around much” You pondered aloud.  

“No, that would be Stan’s fuckin’ fault” Richie grumbled, earning a confused glance from you.

“Stan Uris?” You questioned.  “What’s he got to do with it?” Richie fumbled with his own fingers for a few moments, lips pursing as he thought of what to say to you, how to respond.  But he didn’t want to lie, not to you.

“He doesn’t want me hanging around you” He admitted with a sigh of defeat.  You laughed like he was kidding, but when he continued to sit there in a slouch you realized he was being serious.

“Wait, Stanley Uris doesn’t want us to hang out? Why not?” You asked, mind completely fogged with confusion as to why he would care.

“Cause I’m a trashmouth.  I’m not good enough for you”

Your mouth dropped open and you blinked at him.

“Don’t ever say that-”

“y/n it’s true” He shrugged limply.

“Richie, I’m not too good for anyone… except maybe Henry Bowers but still” You chuckled softly.  But he didn’t move or say anything, so you scooted closer and set your hand over his.  “Why would you even think that?” You spoke softly.

“Because it’s true” He said seriously.  “You’re… you’re you y/n” By the look on your face he could tell that you had no clue what that meant.  “You’re beautiful and kind and pure and sweet and talented and everyone likes you because you’re so damn sweet and I’m just-” He stopped himself, not even knowing where to start on the seemingly endless list of his flaws.  Richie didn’t catch the way you stared at him in complete awe, your doe eyes full of adoration towards the sweet words he’d just spilled out to you.  “I’m just a trashmouth and I fucking ruin everything as soon as I get the chance-”

“The chance for what?” You asked softly, your features not changing one bit.  Richie Tozier had your complete and undivided attention.

“To even just be around you, maybe if I wasn’t such a pussy I’d ask you out but I’d never have the chance if I wanted it-”

You cut him off, your fingers hooking under his chin to turn him towards you, your eyes meeting for a mere moment before you shut yours and pressed your lips against his.

For a second he had no clue what to do, the actual girl angel of his dreams was kissing him.

Holy shit, was all that ran through his mind, his eyes not shutting once, as though if he closed them for a second you’d disappear.  Even as you parted his eyes were open, magnified behind those iconic coke bottle lenses.  Your own eyes fluttered open, a sweet smile quirking nervously on your lips.

You’d never actually kissed anyone.  But then again he hadn’t either.

“Whoever told you that, was terribly wrong” You said quietly, like it were a secret.  His chin was still being held by you, but neither of you bothered to move.  “You always had a chance Richie, maybe I was just waiting for you to take it” You shrugged a shoulder.

Richie gave you a signature smirk, his hands grabbing onto your hips and tugging you closer, your lips meeting in a more passionate kiss.  The bridge of his glasses bumped slightly against your nose, but you didn’t care.  You smiled against his mouth, accidentally breaking off the kiss.

“Well fuck Tozier, if I knew you were going to do that I would’ve slapped some sense into you sooner” You said with red cheeks and a nervous laugh.

“What the fuck!”

The both of you jumped to your feet, turning to see Eddie actually jumping out of a bush, Stna following with his bird watching binoculars hanging around his neck.

“Eddie?” You called accusingly, your hands on your hips.  “You were watching me?” You asked with more anger in your tone.

“Actually, we were kinda watching Richie” Stan corrected.

“What the fuck!” Richie exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air.  “Why? What’s the matter with you perverts?”

“Can you blame us?” Eddie responded.  “God only knows what you would say to her, you say all this awful shit to us we were just being good friends to y/n!” The boy defended.  Your brows furrowed together.

“You really wouldn’t let him hang out with me because of that?” You asked, hurt that they’d keep such a great person away from you just because of his mouth.  Sure, Richie definitely owned the title of ‘trashmouth’ but that didn’t mean it was the only label he bore.  He was sweet to you, and a nervous wreck, which you found endearing.  “Guys that’s awful” Eddie hung his head but Stan didn’t care.  (He’d seen a California Condor flying around while he was supposed to be spying on you, so his mood couldn’t drop if Pennywise jumped out and bit his head off).

“Sorry n/n” Eddie said, kicking at the dirt with the toe of his Keds.  “We meant it for the best” You sighed, but smiled.  You couldn’t stay mad at your friends for long.

“It’s alright, just don’t make my decisions for me again, alright?” Both nodded.  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Richie and I have an arcade to get to”

“We do?” Richie asked, and you nodded, grabbing his hand in yours.

“We do” You said with an affirmative nod of your head as you tugged him along.  Richie grinned, turning back to Stan and Eddie to stick his tongue out at them.

“Ha, jokes on you fuckers I still got the girl”

“Beep beep Richie” You said with a laugh.

For an innocent angel of a girl, you caught on pretty quick.

H A P P Y   B I R T H D A Y   F I N N xoxo ~ jordie