#Eddie: *in the aisle seat to prove a point* | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

t-h-i-n-g · 2 years

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hey gal ,

could I request an Eddie Munson x f!reader where none of hellfire believe eddie is dating someone and somehow in whatever way u decide they see they together and they are flabbergasted but happy for Eddie , if u don’t want to it’s fine , thank u <3

No Shot

a/n: i personally think that eddie would listen to determinate from lemonade mouth religiously or just watch the film at least once a month. ANYWAYS- thanks for requesting!! kinda proud of this ngl, it came out better then i was expecting. hope you enjoy!!

word count: 1.4k

summary: the hellfire club just knew there was no way eddie could have pulled little miss perfect. No shot.... Right?

warnings: none besides some light swearing

st - masterlist m.masterlist

-------------

“There’s just no shot.”

“You gotta be kidding right? Tell me you’re kidding.”

“That isn’t his joking face, why isn’t he making his joking face?”

“100% bullshit is all I hear.”

“If this is a joke, it’s not funny. I’m not laughing, Jeff’s not laughing, Gareth’s not laughing-”

“No, no I’ll give it to him,” Gareth spoke up, turning back to Eddie slowly, “Ha…..ha, there you’ve had your laugh. Now tell me what the hell you were smoking to say such a stupid…,” he held up his hands making quotations, “‘statement’ and make you think we would even believe it to be true.”

Eddie stood there slightly dumb founded. Not expecting the boys to react this way. Sure maybe a little hesitation, but it’s not the most outrageous thing to have happened.

He held up a finger to Gareth, “First off, I haven’t even had anything this morning,” he glanced at the others,” and second why is it so hard to believe? Do I really seem that unbearable?” Dustin let out a laugh.

“Unbearable to Ms. Prom-Queen-A-Honor-Roll-Top-Of-Her-Class-High-School-Graduate? Yeah, just a little.” Eddie’s brows furrowed.

“How did you know she was number one in her class?” Dustin pointed to Mike.

“She was always over to study with Nancy,” Mike explained. Eddie stared blankly at him.

“Well she didn’t tell me that,” he mumbled to himself mostly. It really should have been self explanatory as he did notice you and Nancy would be seen together in the hallways back when you were in school. He pulled himself from his thoughts and focused on the main topic, “You ever think that maybe that Ms. Prom-Queen-blah-blah-blah could have found me charming? Amazing? That I’m interesting and at heart a good person-”

“We know that you are, dude,” Jeff stopped him. “It’s just the fact of how the hell would the two of you wind up in the same room in the first place? How did you even ‘meet’ her.”

“She likes Metallica,” he simply stated. “I was in the same aisle as her in a record store. She made conversation and we hit it off from there,” Eddie explained.

“Metallica? Y/n L/n likes metallica?” Gareth asked sarcastically.

“Iron Maiden and AC/DC too, thank you very much,” Eddie mentioned, getting a little frustrated.

Gareth deadpanned leaning back in his seat, “Whatever man. Let’s just all say, we’ll believe it when we see it.” The others nodded. Eddie plopped down in his own chair. Giving up trying to defend himself. Dustin patted him on the shoulder.

“Listen man, we want to believe you. Really we do… but this is just a little far fetched. Even for me,” Dustin put a hand over his chest, “If this really is true just, maybe- maybe invite her to our next campaign. Prove us all wrong then.” Eddie pondered his suggestion before standing up once again.

“Alright, I’ll do it. And once she shows, “ he pointed a finger across the group, “Each and everyone of you owes me five bucks.”

“Hold on, five bucks?” Mike asked exasperated. Eddie nodded.

“And if she doesn’t show, I’ll own you all five bucks. How does that sound?” The group took in the offer.

“Do we really want to do that? I don’t even know if I got five bucks in my house,” Gareth whispered to Jeff.

“I'd like to see what he pulls out of his ass to actually pull this off. Think it out man. Little miss perfect with the guy who has retaken high school twice? Yeah sure, maybe in a fairy tale,” Jeff stated standing up. Putting out his hand to Eddie. Which he took in his own and shook it. The others following suite.

Eddie was ready for them to eat shit and be 25 bucks richer…

That was if he could convince you to get off work early.

—---------

So, here he stood. Campaign day ready for you to finally meet the rest of the Hellfire Club.

“Can we get inside already? Daylight's wasting and I’m ready for my five bucks man,” Gareth said

You were late. But it’s fine right? Still time for you to show, Eddie thought to himself. The rest of the group stood at his sides, waiting for you to magically poof in front of them.

“Just give it another minute,” Eddie declared, crossing his arms. “She had to take off from work. Her boss is a bitch. He probably made her stay to do some dumb paperwork shit or something before she could leave.” Silence passed over them as the minutes ticked by. Jeff was the first one to break first.

“As much as I love waiting for nobody, the cheese puffs inside are calling my name,” he said, backing up slowly towards the school. “So when everyone’s ready to actually get the campaign started I’ll be there.” One by one the group started to flee into the building. Dustin was the last one to reside. He was too tempted to go grab the donuts he packed earlier. He edged his way away.

“Ah, come on man you too?” Eddie asked him. Dustin winced.

“I’m sorry, it’s just I skipped lunch and there’s food and I’m hungry.” Eddie shooed him away with his hand, following after him.

What happened? You seemed so excited to meet the guys and see what the club was all about, having listened to how passionately he talked on the subjects. Yet you were nowhere in sight. It would be fine, though. There must have been a good enough reason you couldn’t make it. He would pull up to yours later to check if everything was alright. But, just as he opened the door to join the rest like an angel’s calling, a horn rang throughout the mostly empty parking lot. His head snapped to the direction of the sound, there it was. Your 1985 Mercedes Benz rolling into the school yard at a speed that should not be legal in a school zone. Rushing to put it in park you unbuckled your seat belt and grabbed the foods you brought with for the occasion.

The rest of the boys must have heard the commotion as they now all huddled around the door peering through the windows to see you balancing a tray of goods in one hand, a bag on your back, and your keys in your other, trying to lock your vehicle. Once the que was heard you placed the tray in a more steady hold. Looking up to the group ahead of you. A smile broke out on your face. Instantly you went to wave but decided against it when your things almost fell. Instead meeting Eddie half-way up the sidewalk greeting him with a kiss to his cheek.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” you exclaimed, “Ronny he made me stay for some stupid paperwork shit and wouldn’t let me go before I did.” Eddie’s head turned to the boys pointing out your explanation. Following his eye line you took in the others. Walking to meet them in the doorway. They were all jaw slacked. Shocked by the sight of you, standing with Eddie’s hand on your waist still indeed clad in a work uniform. A little pin saying, ‘Hi My Name Is Y/n Ask Me A Question.’

However this silence and the staring was making you s nervous. An uneasy smile taking over your features as you hesitantly held out a peace offering.

“I brought cupcakes,” you said hopefully. Another brief silence passed over. Before Mike’s loud mouth was heard from the back.

“You made cupcakes? Oh god, these are the best. Dustin you have to try one. She made these for the bake sale last year and I swear it was like-” Mike grabbed your forearm slightly dragging you into the building, Dustin tagging along with you. You looked over at Eddie flashing him your million dollar smile. He returned it with a dreamy expression. He was gaze was deterred however when a hand slapped down on his shoulder. A crunched up five dollar bill being held out in front of him. Eddie turned to Gareth who was still watching as you walked away.

“Well played man,” he said, “ You got us good.” Eddie smiled at him and pushed away the hand, following after you.

“You really have to try these cupcakes man,” he simply said and started jogging to catch up to you. Taking the tray away to hold for you. You thanked him lightly, falling into his side. He shifted the pan into one hand and let his free arm wrap around your shoulders.

“Does this mean we get to keep our money?” Jeff asked. Gareth simply shrugged.

“I don’t know but now I really want a cupcake.”

--------

likes are reblogs are appreciated :)

#stranger things x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x yn #eddie munson fanfiction #hellfire club x reader

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hanscom · 5 years

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meet me at the moon [rated: T]

Summary: The Losers get married, to the best of their ability.

Written for the @poly-losers-club Fic Exchange, but mostly for @poetromantics.

Beverly was admitted to the hospital on a Monday.

It was nothing serious. No, really. Three stitches, max. But Eddie got freaked out by all the blood gushing from the gash on her forehead and insisted on driving her to the ER, full-speed. The others followed at a more reasonable pace, but eventually the calm afternoon waiting room was full of life: six grown men hovering around her, visibly stressed in a variety of ways, from Eddie pacing the room in fast, flurried strides to Richie sprawling across a whole row of seats and complaining loudly about whoever it was that banned smoking indoors. It was enough to give Beverly a headache. But that also might have been the head wound.

It took half an hour for her to be called back. The bleeding had stopped by then, but it had crusted around her shirt collar and itched like crazy. She just wanted to go home and change, but Stan was already guiding her out of her seat and towards the waiting nurse. The nurse didn’t comment on Stan’s presence — probably because Stan just looked so no-nonsense, all intense eyes and heavy frown — but she paused when the others rushed to join them.

“I’m sorry,” she said, sounding uncertain. “Only family is allowed in the room.”

“I’m her brother,” Richie announced instantly.

“Yeah,” Bill chimed in without hesitation. “Me, too.”

“So am I,” Eddie said, but he didn’t sound too sure about it. He’d never been a great liar.

Mike elbowed him and said, “I am, too.”

“He’s adopted,” Richie was quick to add.

“We all are,” Bill agreed.

“Except Ben,” said Mike.

Ben looked startled by the sound of his own name, but he recovered fast. He’d gotten good at playing along with Richie’s schemes over the years. “I’m her husband,” he said. As if to prove it, he moved to Beverly’s free side and looped an arm around her. The way she leaned into him was not entirely for show.

“We’re family,” Stan told the nurse. His strong voice left no room for argument.

The nurse wavered.

Richie pulled himself up to his full height and looked down at her. He didn’t look nearly as intimidating as he probably thought he did. “Listen, lady. You can either let me into that room, or you can leave me here to make a scene. Your call.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide. He put a hand on Richie’s arm as if to settle him. “Please don’t get him started,” he whispered urgently to the nurse.

The nurse looked across the room and made eye contact with the receptionist, who had been watching the entire scene with interest. She shrugged and popped her gum. The nurse seemed to take this as permission. She sighed, straighten her clipboard, and led their entourage through the heavy doors and down a blindingly white hallway. She settled Beverly into a hospital bed, took her vitals, and assured them the doctor would see them soon. She didn’t seem happy about it, exactly, but she did smile when Ben thanked her, so Beverly didn’t work up the energy to feel bad.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Riche threw himself onto the doctor’s stool with a groan. “I hate hospitals,” he announced.

“You didn’t have to come,” Bev pointed out. “I’m fine.”

Richie glared at her. “You have a gaping head wound,” he said. “I can practically see your brain matter.” Eddie gagged, then punched Richie’s arm in retaliation. Richie, unrepentant, went on. “Besides, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I stayed home watching Netflix while you withered away in a hospital bed?”

Stan shushed him sharply and looked around, as if they might have missed some stranger cramming into the room with them. “Don’t say boyfriend right now,” he admonished. “We’re her brothers, remember?”

Richie made a face. “It was the best I could do on the spot. Figured it was easier than trying to explain the concept of polyamory to some poor ER nurse.”

“It was a good call,” Bill assured him.

“Bill, please stop encouraging Richie’s stupid ideas,” Stan sighed, his voice taking on the cadence of someone reciting a line they’ve rehearsed a thousand times. Bill’s endless support of Richie’s constant chaos was a well-worn argument in the Loser household.

“Yes, dear,” Bill said dutifully, but when Stan turned away to fuss with Bev’s bedsheets, he winked in Richie’s direction. Richie blew him a kiss in return.

Mike shook his head. “Can’t you guys act like normal people for twenty minutes?” he asked, but he was grinning about it.

“Normal?” Richie repeated, incredulous. “You expect me to act normally while our poor, sweet girlfriend is confined to a sick bed?”

“Poor, sweet sister,” Stan corrected him, as if he didn’t know it was a lost cause.

Richie threw his hands up. “This is stupid,” he said. “No one’s listening. And besides, it’s not my fault Ben always gets to play husband.”

“You’re the one who said you were her brother first,” Eddie pointed out.

“Yeah, but only because Ben would have blown our cover immediately,” Richie retorted. “He can’t keep his hands to himself for more than twenty seconds.”

Richie, admittedly, had a point. Ben was tactile. He liked to hug, to hold hands, to feel the heat of another person’s skin against his own. Even then, he was standing at Bev’s side, their fingers loosely laced. He smiled self-consciously, but didn’t pull away. “Sorry.”

Bev squeezed his hand. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” she said firmly. It wasn’t that Bev preferred his presence. She would have been just as content with Mike at her side, or Stan, or one of the others. But Ben took comfort from standing so close to her, and she would never deny him that.

If it were anyone else, Richie would push the issue. Would dig into the soft spot, would wheedle and whine until he got his way. But it was Ben. They were all a little bit soft for Ben. So Richie just smiled and said, “It’s cool, man. You make a good husband.”

“I’d marry you,” Eddie agreed. The only thing he and Richie never fought about was their mutual affection for Ben Hanscom.

“Me, too,” Mike chimed in. Stan and Bill nodded along.

Bev squeezed his hand again. “I would marry the hell out of you,” she told him softly.

And maybe it was the head injury, but it actually didn’t sound like such a bad idea. They could do it in the backyard. She could make her own dress. They wouldn’t even have to invite anyone. It could be just the seven of them, the way it had always been.

“We should do it,” she said.

Ben looked down at her. He was leaning over the bed, his broad body blocking most of the blaring overhead light. He looked like something straight out of a fantasy. She could so easily picture him at the end of an aisle, dressed to the nines in a fitted suit, eyes brimming with happy tears.

“We should get married,” she said, more sure this time.

There was a pause. Slowly, Richie uncurled from his sprawl and sat up straight. His eyes were suddenly very big behind his glasses. “Someone get the doctor,” he gasped. “I think she might have brain damage.”

“Don’t joke about that,” Eddie chastised, but he glanced uncertainly at Bev like he wasn’t entirely convinced it was a joke at all.

“Are you sure you’re alright, Bev?” Bill asked. He raised his hand and made a peace sign. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

Beverly rolled her eyes and started to tell them all that she was just fine, thanks very much, but she was interrupted by a quick knock on the door. It opened, and a middle-aged man in a white coat swept in. If he was surprised to find seven people crammed into one examination room, he didn’t show it. He smiled and introduced himself as Dr. Williams, and then he set to work poking and prodding Beverly’s forehead. The gash there wasn’t very long, but it was deep enough to warrant a few stitches. Beverly had expected that, so she allowed him to clean the wound, numb it, and sew it back together. The entire process took less than ten minutes — just long enough that, by the time the nurse returned to handle her discharge paperwork, the marriage conversation seemed to have been forgotten. Eddie was much calmer now that the wound was bandaged, and Richie had slipped out of the room with Bill to share a cigarette. Stan and Mike were both listening patiently to the nurse’s explanation of how to clean around the stitches without damaging them. Ben was still holding her hand. She wanted to get his attention, to insist that she really had meant it, but it didn’t feel like the right time anymore.

—

Time went on. The stitches dissolved. There was barely even a scar left. Her forehead was still a little tender if she put pressure on it, but otherwise, it was like it never happened.

Beverly still thought about it sometimes, though: the whole marriage thing.

Did she want to be married? She’d never considered it before. It had never felt like a possibility. She’d never really been the kind of kid who dreamed about a big, white wedding. The closest she had ever come was the time they’d put on a pretend ceremony in the underground safety of the clubhouse. She’d been ‘marrying’ Bill back then, which had been nice. She’d worn a crown of flowers that Eddie had picked for her. Stan officiated because he was the only one of them who knew anything about religious ceremonies. Richie walked her down the aisle. Ben cried. Mike snapped a few pictures. They had all pooled their money to get the film developed. One of the better shots was still floating around in a photo album somewhere.

They had probably been too old to play pretend, but maybe that was the thing. Maybe they had all known, deep down, that it hadn’t really been pretend at all.

—

Beverly forgot, on occasion, that her boys knew her as well as she knew them. Even better, sometimes.

She had fully decided to forget about the whole thing. It was a ridiculous idea. She couldn’t marry all of them, after all, not officially. And maybe it made her selfish, but she refused to choose. She wanted them all, equally, forever. A wedding probably wouldn’t change things, but she wasn’t willing to risk it.

And then Ben proposed.

Looking back, she really should have expected it. He had been antsy for days, more so than usual. She had walked into a room more than once to find him huddled up with Stan or Mike or Bill, talking in quiet tones that fell silent the second they noticed her. It was suspicious, sure, but her birthday was coming up. All of the guys got a little weird around her birthday — except Richie, who was always weird and couldn’t keep a secret to save his life.

Except this one, apparently. Richie woke her up one morning by crash-landing in her bed, covering her face with wet, sloppy kisses. Bill stood off to the side, laughing at her misery. She accepted the attack by going completely limp. Richie was as eager and excitable as a puppy, and sometimes the only defense against him was to ignore him until he got bored and moved on.

But he was particularly persistent that morning. And then, eventually, Bill joined them in the bed, tugging her free from the covers and coaxing her into consciousness with promises of breakfast. “Mike’s cooking,” he said. “He made your favorite.”

It was sort of weird, because her favorite was usually reserved for post-fight apologies. She tried to remember if she’d argued with any of them recently, but she couldn’t remember. Richie was still kissing her face in quick bursts, and it was hard to think when she felt surrounded by both of them, warm and comfortable and sleep-slow.

They eventually maneuvered her out of the bed and into the bathroom. There was a pile of clothes waiting for her. Stan must have picked them out, because everything coordinated perfectly, down to the socks. That was another weird thing. Stan didn’t take over her wardrobe unless she seemed particularly tired or stressed, which she didn’t think she had. But it was still a nice gesture, so she got dressed, brushed her teeth and her hair, and then wandered down the hall and into the kitchen.

The whole house smelled like bacon and vanilla, but the scent was so strong there that her mouth started to water reflexively. Mike was standing at the stove, an apron draped from his neck. He was shirtless underneath it. She crossed the room and stood behind him, arms around his waist, cheek against his back. She could hear his strong heartbeat and the steady rhythm of his breathing. When he said, “Good morning, beautiful,” she felt the deep rumble of his voice.

“Morning.” She kissed his bare back, between his shoulder blades, and then released him. Eddie was sitting on the counter, his feet dangling. She patted his knee and they shared a smile. And then Stan was guiding her to the table, where a fresh cup of coffee was waiting for her. It was already doctored to perfection, perfectly sweet. She took a long, grateful sip. Richie and Bill and Ben were gathered around the table in their usual places, watching her. She wasn’t used to so much attention. Sharing a life with six other people meant there were at least six other topics of conversation at any given time. Now, though, they were all looking at her like she was the only person in the room. She slowly lowered her coffee mug. “Guys,” she said warily. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Bill said, too quickly.

Richie feigned hurt, but he wasn’t very convincing about it. “Can’t we do something nice for you without having an ulterior motive?”

Bev considered the question. It was technically possible, but they were all staring at her as if waiting for something, and there was absolutely something ulterior about that. “You guys are being weird,” she accused.

“Richie’s always weird,” Eddie offered.

“It’s not just Richie,” she countered, casting an accusatory glance around the kitchen. None of them met her gaze for more than a few seconds except for Stan, who was cool as a cucumber, like always.

“We do have something to discuss,” he said, as if that wasn’t perfectly clear, but he raised his hand to cut her off when she opened her mouth to ask what the hell he was talking about. “Breakfast first, okay? Then we’ll tell you everything. I promise.”

Beverly hated being left out of the loop, but at the very least none of them seemed angry or upset. Anxious, maybe, but mostly they all looked excited. Richie was practically vibrating in his seat. Bill’s grin was huge. She caught Eddie and Mike sharing a glance, both of them seeming pleased as punch. Ben hadn’t said a word all morning, but when they made eye contact, he winked at her. The kitchen felt warm and welcome. Stan was waiting patiently for an answer, but there was a smile playing around the corner of his mouth, like even he couldn’t fight off his good mood. She sighed, but offered a nod. She could be patient. Probably.

Breakfast dragged on. The boys were usually useless at hiding things from her, but that morning they were all equally tight-lipped, refusing to steer the conversation away from mindless morning chatter. Beverly tried to listen, but she found herself zoning out more than once. Maybe it made her a bad partner, but she didn’t care about the weather or Bruce Willis’ new action movie. She would never say that out loud, of course, but they probably knew anyway. She wasn’t participating much in the banter. She was mostly staring at her plate full of french toast, wondering what the hell might be coming.

Nothing could have prepared her for the ring.

It was like a magic trick. One minute, the boys were all gathered around the table, chattering amongst themselves. And then she blinked, and there was Ben, kneeling beside her chair. No one was speaking. She couldn’t even hear their breathing over the blood rushing suddenly through her ears. Ben was saying something, but she couldn’t hear that, either. All she could do was look back and forth between his moving mouth and his outstretched hand, where the delicate silver band was pinched between his thumb and forefinger. It was inset with a single large diamond, and surrounded on either side by three smaller gems, all different colors. There were seven stones total. Her heart was pounding.

Ben’s lips stopped moving. He was staring at her, looking more and more uncertain by the second. Had he already asked? God, she’d totally missed it.

“Say it again,” she croaked. She needed to hear it.

Ben smiled, somewhere between self-conscious and unbearably fond. “Beverly Marsh,” he said, his sweet voice trembling. “Will you marry us?”

Beverly launched herself at him. He was already unbalanced on one knee, and the force of the impact brought him to the ground. He shouted, and there was a flurry of amused noise from the others, but Beverly held firm and pressed her mouth to every bare inch of his face she could reach. “Yes,” she gasped. She didn’t have to think about it. She’d done nothing but think about it. For months. “Yes, yes, oh my God, yes.”

Richie’s face appear in the periphery. He had knelt down beside them. “I think that’s a yes, bro,” he said, his big mouth beaming. Bev released Ben only to turn onto him, grabbing him by the shoulders and yanking him in for another fast series of kisses. Bill was next, and then Mike. Stan helped her to her feet and then drew her into his arms, slowing her frenzied attack into something softer. By the time she was passed on to Eddie, she had settled. They didn’t kiss but she held him for a long time, cheek to cheek. It felt wet. She realized they were both crying.

And then there was Ben again, back on his feet. He looped his arms around her and drew her against his broad body. “You mean it?” he asked softly.

“Of course I do.” Beverly didn’t think she had ever meant anything more. “I love you.” Except maybe that.

Ben picked up her hand and slid the ring onto her finger. It was a perfect fit. The gems glittered and gleamed under the light. She turned her hand this way and that, throwing the light, unable to tear her eyes away.

She was getting married. Holy shit, she was getting married.

—

As it turned out, planning a wedding was fun when seven people and no paperwork were involved. Everyone had a job. Mike would take the pictures. Stan was going to officiate. Bill and Ben spent long hours in the backyard, draping fairy lights around trees and along the gutters. Eddie made a thousand trips across the city, taking on every last errand in earnest. Richie mostly just stayed out of the way. It worked.

Bev set immediately to work designing her own wedding dress, but she drew the line at making six suits. Most of the boys already had something to wear, but Eddie’s suit jacket was too small and Richie had never worn formalwear in his life, so a month before the big day, Bev kicked them out of the house and refused to let them return in anything less than a tuxedo. They were gone for a couple hours, and then Richie had swanned through the house in an admittedly well-tailored suit, looking proud and pleased. He claimed the whole experience hadn’t even been that bad, especially when he had convinced Eddie to join him in the fitting room — said, of course, with an emphatic wriggle of his eyebrows. Eddie squawked a few token protests, insisting that was not what happened, but the blush that flared across his face really said it all.

The days ticked down. Some felt like a dream, and some felt like stark, terrifying reality. Beverly asked herself every day if she was ready. Every day, she knew she was.

And then, suddenly, inexplicably, it was time.

Beverly woke up alone in her own bedroom. She dressed herself, dotted on some makeup, and pinned up her hair. Somewhere in the rest of the house, the boys were dragging on their suits. She wished she could be with them, could fix their lapels and straighten their ties, but Stan was a stickler for tradition. Apparently it was bad luck to see the bride before the wedding, even if it was a fake wedding. Beverly personally thought a wedding with six grooms could stand to break a few traditions, but Stan insisted.

There was no music to guide her down the aisle. Richie had busted the speakers out of his boombox, and the dog that lived next door barked relentlessly when there was too much noise. So, instead, when Beverly finally opened the back door that morning, she descended the stairs into the yard in silence. Her bare feet made quiet shifting noises against the carpet of grass. Her dress dragged the ground with a soft whisper. The boys were standing in a line, wearing black suits and ties of varying color. It reminded her of her ring, of all the different gems there. She stared at the six of them, all so different from one another. They were beautiful on their own, but all of them together was enough to stop her heart.

Richie started crying almost immediately. That set off Mike, who clung to Bill as if he couldn’t bear to hold himself up under the weight of all the emotion. Bill’s eyes were shiny when he looked at her. Eddie wasn’t looking at her at all, his head ducked down, his shoulders trembling. Even Stan made a noise suspiciously like a sniffle. The only one of them who kept it together was Ben, and that was only because he was staring at her, wide-eyed, as if everything was finally starting to sink in.

“Getting cold feet?” she asked softly, approaching him.

He reached out with surprising speed, gathering her into his arms. “Never,” he said, and then kissed her with so much passion she sagged against him, knees weak.

Beside them, Stan cleared his throat.

“Ah, leave ‘em alone, Staniel,” Richie goaded. “We’re newlyweds.”

“Not yet, we’re not,” Stan said primly. He gently pried Beverly away from Ben and gave them each a stern look that quickly melted into fondness. “Dearly beloved,” he began when he was satisfied they would keep their hands off one another. “We are gathered here today—”

Beverly couldn’t help her giggle. There was something funny about Stan giving the whole speech in front of their empty backyard. He paused to peer at her, fighting a smile. “Something to add, Miss Marsh?”

“Are we all supposed to say vows?” Bill interrupted. He actually looked nervous.

“What’s the matter, Bill?” Richie slung an arm around Bill’s shoulders, leering down at him. “Don’t tell me you have writer’s block.”

“I’ll show you writer’s block,” Bill muttered, shoving his elbow into Richie’s ribs. Richie yowled, jolting away from him. He accidentally treaded on Eddie’s foot, who shouted and swore a blue streak, which set off the neighbor’s dog. Stan tried to get things back on track to continue his speech, but the dog was howling too long and loud for him to be heard.

There was nothing else to do but for the seven of them to spill back into the house, laughing and jostling against one another, drawn together as if magnetized. Beverly couldn’t keep her hands to herself. She had to touch Stan’s perfect hair, Mike’s brilliant smile. She ran her fingers along Ben’s jaw, and across Bill’s chest. She sat in Richie’s lap on their oversized couch and let Eddie pull her feet across his legs. He didn’t even complain that she was getting dirt all over his new pants.

Silence fell after awhile. Even the dog outside calmed. They could have gone back out, tried again, but none of them made a move. All of a sudden, despite the weeks of effort, it didn’t feel important. That was the thing, wasn’t it? A wedding was nice, but it would never feel as good as quiet moments like those, all of them draped together in small ways, a closed circuit of endless affection. What did it matter if they were married? The ring was nice, but it didn’t change the sweet curve of Bill’s smile, the beautiful drag of Stan’s fingers through her hair, the gentle rhythm of Richie’s breathing, the sharp familiarity of Mike’s cologne, the easy weight of Eddie’s hand on her ankle, the gorgeous taste of Ben’s mouth.

Beverly had been theirs in every possible way since she was a kid. She didn’t know how to belong anywhere else. She didn’t want to figure it out.

And the best part was that she didn’t have to. They had offered her forever, after all.

She fully intended to take them up on it.

#ot7 #sometimes i write things #plc fic exchange

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infiniteshawn · 5 years

Text

No Place I’d Rather Be

a/n: 5.3k oneshot. here’s the deal

i was approached a couple of months ago to write a fic for someone’s birthday, as a gift. as a result, this piece is very specific to that person. i changed the names and moved it into second person, but it’s not what i typically post--i’m just posting it because i’m sure you guys would like to read it anyway. it’s not very detailed because as it was written for a real person, i didn’t want to invade their head like that. the smut is very glossed-over. but i put a lot of time into this, so here’s something super random!! enjoy!!

“Nervous?”

Shawn looked up from his own hands, fiddling with the feather-shaped ring adorning his middle finger. He took a deep breath.

“Nerves mean you care,” he answered with his classic line and a tight-lipped grin, nodding as he spoke. Cez huffed at him, wondering how on earth someone could maintain such composure at all times. Especially in the middle of headlining a sold-out world tour.

Shawn’s gaze travelled out the window of the Uber, absorbing everything he could about the city he was in. That’s the thing about touring, he thought to himself. While you see the world, you really don’t.

He was sure San Diego was beautiful, but it was hard to get a good look at the buildings because the sidewalks were completely lined with people. Fans of his, in particular. A mass amount of bodies crowded the entrance to Pechanga Arena, waiting patiently for the doors to open.

Shawn’s chocolate eyes scanned the herd of people as the car rolled along, clearly not fast enough for Cez’s liking.

Something caught his eye. He wasn’t sure if it was her long black hair or pearly white smile, but Shawn craned his neck quickly enough to give himself whiplash.

“Wait, ca-,” he paused as his right hand tapped at the window frantically, “Can we turn around?”

“Shawn, we’re already late,” Cez pressed, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion at Shawn’s sudden outburst.

“No, bu-“

“Shawn,” he spoke sternly. There was no getting out of this.

“Alright,” Shawn breathed, sinking back into his seat. Whoever she was, she was fucking gorgeous. And she was there to see him. He could only hope to find her inside.

And hope he did. Shawn carried on with the rushed soundcheck followed by his Q&A session, analyzing the face of every fan looking back at him in a meek attempt to see her again. His heart raced and his features perked up as every dark-haired girl walked in for her meet and greet, only to once again be discouraged when he felt absolutely nothing.

The team knew something was up, failing to mention it in fear of Shawn being on the brink of a nervous episode. In reality, the reason he wasn’t all there was due to his desperate search to find her.

_______________________

Shawn bounced on his toes, shaking out his arms as Eddie played the opening notes of Lost In Japan. The stage was dark as Shawn crept out, making the most of the twenty-one seconds he had to scan the crowd, praying to his lucky stars that his eyes might fall on her. His heart sank as he knew it was time to focus, to play the damn show because that was why people were there and that was why he was there. That was why she was there.

With a deep breath and a toothy grin, Shawn straightened out his shoulders and took the mic into his hand.

“San Diego how you feelin’?” escaped his lips as his hopes were crushed, accepting his fate. Sixteen-thousand pairs of eyes stared back at him, and he wondered which one of them belonged to her.

_______________________

“Fucking finally!” you exclaimed, finally ejecting yourself from the confines of Pearson International. Your best friend, Alex, trailed after you, wheeling her suitcase in the direction of the arrivals pickup.

Navigating airports wasn’t always easy. Especially in foreign cities under a time-crunch and being completely engulfed by the looming excitement of Shawn’s upcoming stadium show, which happened to be the next day.

The air was warmer than you’d expected and your surroundings were greyer than anyone would have liked to admit, but somehow, some way, Toronto was still beautiful. Except the airport wasn’t even in Toronto. They could see it, way off in the distance, but Brampton, Ontario, definitely was not Toronto.

You were pulled from her thoughts when a black Chevrolet Equinox pulled over in front of you, popping the hatch for your luggage.

“Your chariot awaits,” Alex giggled, nudging you in the side as she loaded your suitcases into the spacious trunk.

The Uber merged onto the 427 and made its way southward, barreling toward the city faster than your fragile heart could handle. The Toronto skyline was glowing at the sun set, the glint of the CN Tower proving hard to look at as the city you so badly longed to be in grew more and more in your reach.

A blaring car horn startled you, causing you to snap your head around at the source. The Uber was merging again, onto another highway, and had unfortunately just cut someone off.

You craned your neck in search of a sign, spotting “Gardiner Expressway” in gigantic letters attached to a light post. The crashing waves of Lake Ontario were to your right as the Uber took the exit reading “Lake Shore,” you and Alex exchanging a look of pure joy.

Holy shit, these buildings are huge, you thought to yourself as the Uber rolled slowly through the thick traffic of the downtown core. The Rogers Centre was a massive white dome from another plane of existence, and stationed just behind it was the CN Tower, standing taller than either of you had ever envisioned.

Then the Uber took an aggressive left on Spadina and all the buildings looked the same and within minutes the vehicle was pulling over, announcing that you’d arrived.

“Alright,” you giggled, wheeling your luggage into the lobby of the apartment complex. It seemed modern and posh, and thankfully, right in the middle of everything. Alex retrieved the key from the front desk and you tapped your toes anxiously against the floor, watching the little screen as the elevator climbed all the way to the fifteenth level.

The apartment was nice. Faced the east, providing a great view of the near skyline, and the bedroom was on the north wall. You looked out the window with fascination, watching as a green GO train chugged along on the tracks below.

“Hungry?” Alex called, pulling you from your thoughts. “Sorry, but all I can think about right now is food.”

______________________

Night came and went, leaving you giddy with excitement, staring at your own reflection, satisfied with what you saw. The show was in a few hours and it would be your second time seeing Shawn on this tour, and you couldn’t have been more ecstatic.

The Rogers Centre. The special guests. The extended show. The massive crowd. You knew it was going to be a once-in-a-lifetime experience, and it was all happening to you right here, right now.

You wondered what Shawn was doing, what he was thinking about. If he was nervous—hell, how nervous he was.

_______________________

Shawn’s drive to the Rogers Centre was a quick one. That’s new, he thought to himself. His phone had been blowing up all morning, text messages from distant friends and family rolling in like clockwork. It was a big fucking deal.

Shawn was busy thinking about her. Playing a show for 55,000 people had Shawn all in his head—what didn’t?—and he found tranquility in thoughts of what could have been. He wondered if he should tweet something. Or relocate to San Diego for a while and maybe hang out at a Walmart. She was bound to pass by at some point.

But no. It had been two months—two whole months—since he’d seen her. He didn’t know why he as so drawn to her, so captivated by her. But he felt something that day. There was no doubt about it. And he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to try and find her.

Today wasn’t the day, though. He was about to play the biggest show of his career, and if he was being honest with himself, he was freaking the fuck out. He breathed in. Her. He breathed out. Her. He was calm.

“Gates six or ten,” Alex read off the e-ticket, causing you to whip your head around in search of some sort of fucking sign. For such a big building, one would think it would be at least labeled.

The CN Tower quite literally towered over you as the two of you followed a mob of people to the doors, holding hands in fear of losing each other in the crowd. You thought back to lining up outside of the arena in San Diego and laughed to yourself. This was nothing like that.

“Six it is,” you spoke, nodding to the circular sign above the doors everyone was crowding around. The group was buzzing with murmurs of where everyone was sitting, many “you’re lucky”’s exchanged whenever someone revealed that they were in an “A” section. Alex shot you a tight-lipped grin, both of you thinking the same thing: we’re in A4.

The sun was low and 7:30 was quickly approaching, the anticipation building as everyone prepared for the doors to open.

“These seats are incredible,” you thought aloud, settling next to the aisle with your vodka cran.

“Yeah, you’ll finally be able to see the sweat dripping down his neck,” Alex quipped, earning a nudge in the ribs from you.

Shawn, on the other hand, was not so easygoing.

He was freaking the fuck out.

Backstage was chaos, everyone trying to get sorted at the last-minute. All the people Shawn loved were under the same roof, but still, he wasn’t at peace. He considered he’d probably retreat to his ancient calming tactics, focusing on one audience member and freaking them out with a lot of eye contact. It worked every time.

Your stomach twirled as you got to your feet. The lights were low, the bass was rumbling, and something was about to happen. You felt as if you might burst.

Shawn’s stomach twirled as he stood at the side of the stage. The lights were low, the bass was rumbling, and he was about to step out there. He was ready to burst.

And just like that, he kicked off the biggest show of his career. Lost In Japan went harder than ever and he was over the moon, singing to and with fifty five thousand people who loved him endlessly.

______________________

He took a deep breath. It was mid-show, he hadn’t introduced the special guests, and he jumped down from the stage and held his arms out to touch people’s hands as security escorted him to the b-stage, where a grand piano waited patiently.

“Holy shit, he’s right there!” Alex screamed in your ear, her senses overwhelmed by her emotions. Shawn spoke a few words that you didn’t quite catch as he sat down on the bench, the chords to Life of the Party causing the crowd to erupt. You were positive that you weren’t alone in trying not to cry.

A few songs later and he was wrapping up the segment, performing an elongated version of a fan favourite: Ruin. The band was on the main stage and Shawn stood alone, absolutely nailing the guitar solo. Accomplished, he looked up from his guitar, bidding sweat away from his eyes. He blinked. And then he blinked again. No fucking way.

He missed his cue and messed up the song a bit, but he wasn’t too worried. Squinting into the audience as the spotlight illuminated the sections surrounding him, he was sure of it. It was her.

“Is he okay?” Alex wondered out loud, her voice insignificant in your ear. You weren’t listening.

He was looking at you. You turned your head around, wondering what the big deal was, to find thousands of people, too, looking at you.

Shawn knew this couldn’t last long. He was being obvious.

He wrapped up the song, hardly peeling his eyes from you because how could he? Like, seriously. What were the fucking odds?

Shawn ran back to the main stage and just like that, he was gone. You checked your phone. 9:30. There was no way it was over.

Shawn dove off the stage, frantically searching for Andrew.

“The hell was that?” Andrew asked sternly, finally locating Shawn.

“Listen, that girl? Not the middle section, two over to my right? Dark hair, on the aisle,” Shawn panted, everyone around him staring at him in confusion. “Look.”

Shawn pulled Andrew to the edge of the stage where he couldn’t be seen very well, pointing directly at her spot.

“The girl from the San Diego show, she’s here.”

“That’s her?” Andrew questioned, “how the fuck did you see her?”

“Lucky? I don’t know,” Shawn spoke quickly, “but I need someone to go get her. I need to talk to her.”

“Shawn we can’t jus-“

“See you after!” he called with a grin, stepping back onto the stage to introduce the one and only Taylor Swift.

You were baffled. Wondering if you’d done something wrong, confused as to why the Shawn Mendes was looking at you as if you had two heads.

There wasn’t much you could do. Yes, Shawn kept looking. Staring, really. But you had no choice but to smile back and enjoy the show, oddly confident and confused and insecure all at once.

Taylor left and Ed came out, the crowd absolutely losing their minds. Shawn was at his peak happiness, a little anxious about what would happen later but very, very in the zone.

You were having the time of your life, too. You could sense the show coming to an end as he played the opening notes of In My Blood, giving it his absolute all for every single person who made it to the concert.

Shawn thanked the crowd endlessly. He waved goodbye. The lights came on and everyone started filing out, but you were intercepted.

A massive man in a black hoodie stopped you in your tracks, and you soon recognized him to be Jake, Shawn’s security guard. You took a deep breath.

“I’m with Shawn,” he spoke, flashing you a backstage pass, “would you mind coming with me for a few minutes? Your friend is welcome to join.”

You turned to look at Alex, who was already raising a brow. If you hadn’t recognized Jake you’d be suspicious, but this seemed legitimate.

“Y-yeah,” you nodded, agreeing to follow Jake to the side of the stage and eventually around the back, down a long hallway, and to the dressing rooms.

“He’s just winding down for a minute with his team,” Jake spoke, opening the door to a furnished dressing room. “Are you okay to wait in here for a bit?”

You looked over at Alex, who gave you an understanding nod. Of course you were okay to wait a bit.

Jake left quietly and you were too jittery to sit on the plush sofa. Alex, on the other hand, plunked down like a sack of potatoes.

“How are you calm right now?” you asked frantically, chewing your nail.

“Nothing bad’s gonna happen,” she chuckled, “clearly Shawn’s got something to say to you.”

That did not help. Your hands were shaking and you were pacing, soon locating a mirror and making sure you looked okay. Of course this was when the door burst open.

You turned toward the sudden commotion, face-to-face with a very sweaty, very flushed Shawn Mendes.

Silence.

You bit your lip. He shoved his hands in his pockets.

Shawn was the first to speak.

“Hi,” he said quietly, trying his best to suppress a bashful grin.

“Um, hello,” you giggled, holding out your right hand and introducing yourself.

“I’m, uh, I’m Shawn,” he laughed, a chuckle escaping Alex’s lips a few feet away.

“That’s my friend Alex,” you nodded, crossing your arms over your chest.

Shawn shot her a nod, more concerned with you. Why was she here? How did she get here? Where did she come from?

“Oh,” Shawn raised his eyebrows, “you’re probably wondering what you’re doing here.”

You laughed, and he swore his heart skipped a beat. He could listen to that forever.

“This is going to sound really weird, but please, bear with me,” he grinned, taking a step closer. “I recognized you from the San Diego show.”

Your eyebrows lunged into your hairline.

“You’re kidding.”

“Dead serious,” he nodded.

“How’d you see me there?” you asked, unsure of if you should laugh or be worried, “I wasn’t even on the floor.”

“I looked for you,” he twirled his ring around his finger, probably nervous, “I saw you lining up outside, actually. When I was on my way to the venue.”

“Right,” you said quietly, still baffled by all of this.

“I just, I felt like I needed to talk to you?” he explained, his tone uneasy, “There’s something about you, I can’t quite put my finger on it. You’re um, you’re gorgeous.”

Your cheeks burned crimson as your spoke a soft “thank you,” desperately waiting for him to continue.

“I don’t know where I’m really going with this,” he paused, bringing a large hand up to run through his dark curls. “I have to go to this afterparty thing for a little bit, but maybe do you want to meet with me later? We could grab a drink or, or something?”

Was this fucking real? you thought to yourself. Of course. Fuck. Speak. Speak!

“Yeah, I do. That would be really nice,” you played it cool, finally really looking into his eyes. They were beautiful.

“Great. Uh, can I maybe get your number?”

_______________________

Back at the apartment, you were having a royal meltdown.

“I didn’t pack for this!” you called from the bedroom, pulling various pieces of clothing from your luggage to figure out what on earth to wear.

“He remembered you from a different fucking country,” Alex quipped from the doorway, watching as you scrubbed the makeup from your face to reapply it. “I don’t think he’d care if you showed up in a paper bag.”

“Not gonna happen,” you responded, having given up on the attire situation for the time being.

A few blocks over, Shawn was celebrating with his loved ones, over the fucking moon because thanks to some twist of fate, he’d finally found you. The party was set to end soon and you’d be meeting him at a quaint little dive bar just down the street from his house, and the seconds couldn’t have ticked by faster.

“My Uber’s almost here,” you snapped, your long-sleeve shirt halfway over your head. “How do I look?”

“You look gorgeous,” Alex spoke from the couch, giving you a one-over as you put your high-heeled boots on.

“Thank you,” you breathed, slinging your purse over one shoulder. “Alright. I’m off.”

And with that, you were gone. Practically shaking the entire car ride to the address Shawn had texted you, wondering if he was feeling the same.

Shawn stood on the sidewalk beneath the lights strung all over the front patio, his eyes fixed on every car that slowed down in front of him. His nerves were getting the best of him, but he had no choice. This was it. He’d been thinking about you for so long, wondering everything there was to know about you. Holy shit, there she is.

You climbed out of the back seat, thanking the driver and shutting the door behind you. You looked up, your gaze met by that of a tall, handsome, curly-haired young man. His smile reached his eyes.

“Hey!” he grinned, holding out his arm for you to grab. You needed steadying.

“Hi,” you smiled, her heart jumping a bit as he pulled you in for an unexpected hug.

“Shall we go in?”

__________________________

He told you everything. When he saw you, where he saw you, how he felt when he saw you. Everything. And you were absolutely fucked for him.

“That’s insane,” you nodded, sipping your second cocktail. “Like, what are the odds?”

“That’s what I’m saying!” he laughed, finishing off his IPA. “I don’t know. I just, I think you’re gorgeous. And I want to know more about you in the least creepy way possible.”

“I’m not creeped out,” you blushed, your hand finding his thigh in the dim light of the bar. He twitched a bit. You pulled away, embarrassed by your actions, eyeing him apologetically.

“No, no, that’s fine!” Shawn reassured, reaching for your fingers and placing them back on his knee. “I just wasn’t sure you were all that into me, I guess. Now I realize that’s kind of stupid.”

“I mean, I did travel to a whole other country just to see you perform, so,” you chuckled, wiggling your fingers against the denim of his black jeans.

He nodded, flushed. They were acting like teenagers. You eyed his lips. He put his hand on yours and leaned in, brushing your nose with his own. All they could breathe was each other.

“Is this okay?” he whispered, his soft lips turning up at the corners.

“It’s very okay,” you nodded with a smile, closing the space between you to press your mouth against his.

He tasted like mint and honey, warm and cool and sweet all at once. You were itching for more, desperate to have his hands on you when he pulled away, smiling like a goof.

“Um,” he started, giving your hand a squeeze, “do you, maybe, want to get out of here?”

_______________________

“Condo looks nice,” you muttered against his lips, your body pinned against the back of his front door. His lips were everywhere at once, trailing from your lips to your jaw to her neck, begging for mutual attention.

“Thanks,” he muttered with a giggle, carefully holding your face in his hands like you might break. He was afraid he would.

“Wow,” you broke from his lips, craning your neck down the hall. His view of the city was gorgeous and his living room was so cozy, you had to take a minute. “This is really nice. Thank you, for uh, for bringing me here.”

Shawn cleared his throat, joining you in his living room. The wonder in her eyes was electric as you gazed out the window. He was in awe.

“Listen,” he spoke softly, reaching for your hand so you would turn to him, “I didn’t just bring you here to, uh, you know,” he took a deep breath, “I actually like you. A lot. We can do whatever you want, I’d still be over the fucking moon.”

You were the hungry one now. If you weren’t already destroyed by the thought of him, his words had you hooked. Shawn kissed you back, allowing your lips to swallow his gentle mewls as he walked you to his bedroom, trying his best not to fall over.

You didn’t even have time to take in your surroundings, the brute force of Shawn’s body on top of yours as you collapsed on his king-sized bed, knocking the wind out of you. You both broke into a small giggling fit, easing the nerves that seemed to be eating at his stomach from the inside out.

“You’re sure this is okay?” he whispered, fingertips grazing the skin under your shirt.

“More than okay,” you smiled, assisting him in slipping the fabric over her head.

He was blushing more than ever, giddy and elated that this was real life and really happening in real time. Someone controlling the universe and all mystery greater than life itself had his back. He made a note to say thank-you later.

Before his thoughts strayed too far from the woman beneath him, you were kissing his neck, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, reminding him of what really mattered.

Holy fuck, you thought to yourself. You knew he was ripped—had inspected every inch of his body through the screen of your phone. But you didn’t know he looked like this. You swallowed your filthy thoughts with a gulp, your gaze raking over the dips and hills of his muscular torso, wondering what on earth was beneath his jeans.

As if he’d read your mind, he was messing with his belt, finally unclasping it and moving on to the button of his pants.

Your heart was racing.

His heart was racing.

It was happening quickly, but it made sense. You both wanted—needed—this, and it seemed fitting.

You wiggled out of the tight confinement of your jeans, matching his minimal attire of mere undergarments. His flush reached his chest, which was littered in tiny brown hairs, topped off with a dangling silver pendant.

This is real. This is Shawn Mendes. You took a deep breath.

His warm hands were on you, exploring the expanse of your ribs as he kissed you with all he had, teeth and tongue included. He needed you badly, and he wasn’t afraid to show it.

You let out a squeal as he began nipping at your jaw, reminding you of how real this was. Your hands were exploring the divots of his stomach, feeling the softness and warmth of his skin against yours. He felt amazing.

He inhaled sharply, collapsing against you when your fingertips slipped into the waistband of his black boxers. Your hands were where he needed you most, feeling and rubbing and massaging everything he had to offer. He was ecstatic.

“Fuck,” he muttered as you spread the bead of precum he’d released around the head of his cock, prompting him to buck his hips into your hand with great desperation. Shawn wasn’t a selfish man, but he had a hard time focusing on putting his hands in your panties when you were touching him like this. “Wait a sec,” he interrupted, shame washing over your face instantly. You were afraid you’d gone too far.

“I’m never gonna last past your hand,” he breathed, his chocolate eyes pleading with yours as you retracted her fingers from his underwear. “Please, please let me focus on you.”

No protest there. Your panties were off and he was between your thighs before either of you could take a breath, and holy fuck, he knew what he was doing.

His tongue was hot against your core, kissing and licking and lapping at the soft skin like it was his final meal. You squirmed beneath his gigantic arms, pinned to his bed and thankful because there was nowhere in the world you’d rather have been.

“Shawn,” spilled from your lips, a mantra you’d practiced over and over in the comfort of your own bedroom, completely mind-boggled that you were using it for real now. “Fuck,” you reiterated, gasping as he added a finger into the mix, working you to the edge faster than you’d ever experienced.

He was humming against you. Sucking on your clit like a fucking popsicle, grinding his hips into the mattress in preparation to give you all of him. He’d never felt so fucking alive.

Another finger slipped into your heat, Shawn coming up for air to plant some kisses on your inner thighs.

“Gonna come for me?” he groaned against your skin, fucking you roughly with his fingers as you struggled to formulate a sentence. “Need you to fucking come for me.”

His mouth was back on you, exploring you thoroughly and sloppily, leaving you a shaking, shivering, writhing mess. He sucked, you shouted, and you were coming on his hands, clenching around his fingers like if you didn’t, he might not have been real.

Shawn was smiling against your skin, proud of himself and proud to be between your thighs. You were panting, rapidly trying to regenerate because you wanted nothing more than to take all of him as soon as possible—to give him what he needed.

“Shawn, that was amazing,” you muttered with a grin, pulling his face up to meet yours and tasting yourself on his glorious tongue, “Need you.”

He separated himself from your lips, nudging your nose with his own and resting his forehead against yours.

“You’re positive? This is okay?”

“Yes,” you giggled, rolling your hips against his, “please, Shawn. Need you to fucking give it to me.”

He was off you in milliseconds, rummaging in his bedside table for a condom and wiggling out of his boxer-briefs like they were burning his skin. You pushed up on your elbows, watching with a lazy smile as he fumbled with the latex, not-very-gracefully rolling it down his thick shaft and once again turning to face you.

Sculpted by the gods, he stood at the edge of the bed, throbbing cock in his hand. You reached around and unclasped your bra, Shawn unable to peel his eyes from your exposed chest as he crawled up your frame, kissing his way over your torso and up your neck, eventually finding your lips in the dim light of his bedroom.

He breathed in.

“You ready?”

You nodded.

He breathed out. This was it.

“Shit, baby,” he muttered, running his reddish tip along your folds, “you’re soaked.”

“Obviously,” you giggled, recounting the events of only a few minutes prior.

“I’ll be gentle, I promise,” he whispered, planting a soft kiss on your lips as he slipped inside of you, groaning at the feeling of your soft walls hugging him so tightly.

The burn was quick, soon subsiding to pleasure as he bottomed out, beginning to carefully move in and out of your core. He was the perfect size—not too big, not too thick, but definitely not small. His shallow thrusts turned into deep rows, pounding into your heat as he lost himself in the pleasure your body provided.

He was moaning into the crook of your neck, sweat pooling in his hairline as he gave you all of him, focusing completely on grazing your walls as deeply as he could.

“Shawn,” you panted, nails digging into his shoulders to pull him impossibly closer, “touch me.”

His fingers found your clit and he sped up, reducing you to a mumbling string of profanities, feeling nothing but ecstasy as he was inside of you, working wonders with his cock and his fingers.

“M’not gonna last much longer,” he warned, trying to slow down in a poor attempt to keep himself from barreling over the edge.

“Harder,” you encouraged, closing your eyes and tugging his curls, lost in the feeling of the drag of his cock as his fingers danced over your sensitivity, bringing on your orgasm more intensely than you knew possible.

“Shit,” he grunted, moaning with you as you clenched around him, your back arching against his mattress as you came together, seeing nothing but stars.

__________________

“Please stay,” he spoke into your hair, hugging you tightly beneath his heavy duvet.

“I can’t, Shawn,” you nuzzled into his chest, “Alex is waiting for me.”

He hummed in protest, groaning as you slipped out from under the covers and began relocating your clothes.

“It’s too cold for you to leave.”

“Shawn, it’s September,” you giggled, tugging your lacy underwear up your thighs. He watched.

“At least let my pay for your Uber.”

“That I can do,” you grinned, slipping your shirt over your head as he unlocked his iPhone and ordered a ride. “Walk me out?”

He got dressed (half, really), and walked you to the elevator, holding your hand so tightly it was almost painful. Neither of you knew why this felt so hard.

“It’s two minutes away,” he whispered, pulling you against his dense frame for a long hug, topping it off with a soft kiss to your swollen lips. “You have my number.”

You nodded, stepping into the elevator, his hand still in yours as long as the doors remained open.

“Catch you next time you’re passing through San Diego, I guess?”

He grinned bashfully, a flush creeping down his neck as the metal doors began to shut.

“I think you’ll be seeing me a lot sooner than that, sweetheart.”

#shawn mendes #imagine shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes sm #shawn mendes smut #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes au #shawn mendes oneshot #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes x you #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes x y/n

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asteroidbill · 5 years

Text

Louder (Reddie)

I’ve had this work in progress for about a year, and finally was able to finish it. hopefully its as good as I think it is! Please leave some constructed criticism, as I have about 5000 other wip that I could use help on!

Synopsis: Somebody is having sex in the library, and Richie suggests that they can be louder.

Ship: Reddie

Rating: Mature (Language and mentions of sex)

Tags: aged up (college), library sex, fake sex, hair pulling, humping

Words: 1.9K

Ao3 link

Louder

Finals week was going to be hell for Eddie Kaspbrak, and it didn’t help that his roommates decided to throw a party the weekend before all the tests were supposed to begin. In the weeks remaining before hell, Eddie could be found in the library. Actually, you could always find Eddie in the library. . His roomates, Bill and Mike, were not known for being good study partners.

For the last few weeks that Eddie had been coming, the library had been filled with students preparing for the end of the semester. This time however was different. All of the tables were empty, which allowed Eddie to choose his favorite spot. He chose the spot closest to the back book shelves, facing towards them. With his books set up around him, Eddie began to go through his notes.

It had been about an hour of complete silence, when it started. The moaning. And the loud kissing noises. At first, Eddie almost missed the sounds because of how quiet they were. After a very loud moan, Eddie’s head shot up in complete confusion. His eyes scanned the room trying to find the source. He found the outline of the couple in front of him, visible through cracks in the bookshelves, going at it quite literally in the stacks. He made a disgusted sound.

Eddie was conflicted. Should he go back to his room or stay here and listen to these people go at it? If he wanted to continue studying, he couldn’t go back to the rager happening in his dorm room. Eddie dug through his fanny pack and almost sighed in relief when he found some headphones. After sliding them into his ears, he turned on his music and began studying again.

It had only been a few minutes, when he started to hear a rhythmic thumping. Good god, they really are going for the whole public sex thing, Eddie thought. He turned his music up louder and went back to work.

He didn’t get much farther, when he saw someone all but run down the aisle of the back stacks. The guy had his hands up covering his eye, and didn’t remove them until he bumped into a table. He then placed a pair of large glasses on his nose. Eddie removed his headphones looking at the guy. The man lifted his head and scanned the room, smiling when he saw Eddie.

“Edward Spagedward! How’s it hanging?” Eddie recognized him from one of his classes, and his use of idiotic nicknames.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that, Richard.” In Eddie’s opinion, Richie Tozier was one of the most annoying people on this planet. With his annoying hair, annoying jokes, and his annoying nicknames.

“Only about a million times, Eds baby.” Richie started to approach the table Eddie was sitting at, when another loud moan filled the air. “I fell asleep in one of the chairs back there. How long have they been going at it?”

“The making out started about twenty minutes ago. The sex? I would say about 5 minutes before you stormed out here.”

“And you have been listening to them the whole time?” Richie looked mischievous as he took the seat next to Eddie. “Kinky, kinky.”

“No, you dolt! I had my earphones in until you came running out.”

“Sure you did, Spaghetti.” Eddie groaned, looking back at his work. There goes a study trip wasted. The pounding sound from the stacks started getting louder and the two boys looked at each other.

“Ohh, yes baby! Right there! Keep hitting right there!” A feminine voice rang out, groans from both parties increasing. Richie started to laugh.

“Oh god! Does she really think that sounds sexy? It sounds like she’s drowning a cat!” Richie put his head down on the table, shaking with hysterics. Eddie looked down at his notes again, trying in vain to get something done. Richie lifted his head from the table, a wicked grin on his mouth.

“Whaddaya say, Eds? Think we can be louder?” He winked. Eddie’s mouth opened, confused about what to say. Surely he didn't say what I think he said, he thought.

“I’m sorry. Can you repeat that?” Richie moved closer in on Eddie, his lips oh so close to his ear. Eddie could feel Richie’s breath on his earlobe.

“I said. Do you think we could be louder than them?” Richie leaned back to look Eddie in the eyes.

“Richie, I am sorry but I am not going to have sex with you in a public library.” Eddie said, exasperated. He pushed him back by his shoulders. The nerve of this guy!

“No, my dear Eddie Spaghetti! We pretend to have loud sex and hopefully those fucks will leave.” Richie looked at Eddie with a glint of something in his eyes.

“H--How?”

“It’s elementary my darling Spageht! I shall just bend you over the table and pretend to fuck you in to oblivion.”

“Yes. I get that dumbass. But how do we even begin to make it believable?” Eddie laid on to him a look of the utmost contempt. Richie rolled his back at him and continued on.

“I bang a little on the table, you make some pretty noises with your mouth and we ruin whatever fun they are having by having more fun.” Richie made some lewd gestures to go along with his explanation. “So what do you say? Can we be louder?”

Eddie looked into Richie’s eyes as if they could tell him the answer. Does he really think something like this could work? Eddie thought, If we moaned them out of the library, could I go back to studying?

“Fine! We can try but if I get in trouble for this, I will never forgive you.”

“Now now Edward Spagedward, have no fear! Nothing will happen to get us in trouble.” Richie stood up from his chair and gestured toward the table. “Now my sweet Eds, bend your ass over this table so I can pretend fuck you.”

Eddie gave him another look before he complied and got out of his own chair. He leant over the desk, resting his palms on the surface. Richie chuckled and stepped up behind him as close as he possibly could. He pushed his weight against Eddie’s back until he could do nothing but rest his forearms on the table instead. Richie ran his fingers up the side of Eddie’s bicep and moved his mouth to rest by his ear.

“Now will you start making those sweet moans for me, Eddie?” Eddie rolled his eyes and let out a loud moan similar to the one the girl had let out earlier. Richie chuckled again, and moved his mouth to tickle up and down Eddie’s neck. “Not like that. Start softer and build up.”

Eddie groaned, but took the advice anyway. The next time he moaned softly and added a soft Richie! to the end of it. The man hummed in approval, and began to hump against him. Eddie’s eyes widened as he turned his head to look and Richie.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He said it softly, but you could still hear the aggression in his voice.

“I have to look like I’m actutally fucking you! And have to bang you against the table some how!” To prove his point, Richie humped against him a little harder. Now that he mentioned it, Eddie could hear a faint thump each time he humped up against him. And to be honest, it wasn’t really humping, more so a bump against his ass that pushed him forward enough to make that noise. Richie gave him an I told you so look and humped against him a little harder, resulting in a louder sound.

“Now, moan!” Richie said, smacking his hand against Eddie’s thigh. Eddie gave him another look of contempt, but moaned nonetheless. Richie kept humping against Eddie, creating a rhythmic thumping noise. However, they could still hear the other couple going out it loudly.

“Okay, now I need you to start getting a little louder.” Richie folded his body over Eddie’s hunched frame, and placed his arm around his middle. He also began to thump just a little bit harder. Richie moaned loudly, a smirk on his face. “God, Eddie! I can’t believe you this fucking tight!”

“Richie! Be quiet! We’re in the library!” Eddie fake giggled and let out his own wet small moan. Richie chuckled against his back, where he rested his head.

“I can’t help it, Eds.” Eddie faked a groan at that, though it wasn’t entirely a groan. “I can’t help that you feel so fucking good.”

“Rich…. Richie! God, you make me feel so good!” Eddie faked a loud moan and arched his back into Richie’s body. Richie placed a small kiss on the back of his neck, chuckling. Both of them could quietly hear the couple behind the stacks stopping, but they continued on anyway. Eddie reached back and grabbed a fist full of Richie’s hair and pulled him down towards his face. He gave him a wicked grin.

“Fuck me harder, Richie!” Richie smirked down at Eddie, and smacked his ass whilst slamming him a little harder against the table. Eddie moaned, “Fuck me like you mean it!”

The couple from behind the stacks raced past them, telling them to Get a fucking room! as went. Richie collapsed against Eddie’s back laughing as hard as he could. Eddie was laughing too against the table, until he pushed back against Richie’s back. They both collapsed back into their chairs, still laughing their asses off.

“I can’t believe that worked!” Eddie, said when they finally got control of their laughter. He looked back at Richie, to find him already looking at him.

“I can’t either,” Richie said, grinning at him. “I honestly expected for them to ask if they could join in.”

That set the both off laughing again. As Eddie laughed, he looked back over the table strewn with his study notes and he groaned for real this time. Richie looked at him funny, but before he could ask, Eddie beat him to the punch.

“I’m soooo not gonna be prepared for finals.” Eddie sunk lower in his seat with another groan.

“Why did you even come to the library to study?” Richie asked, running a hard through his hair. “Why didn’t you just study in your dorm?”

“My roommates, Bill and Mike, decided to have a party to celebrate Finals Week instead of studying. It’s too loud to get any actual studying done there.” Eddie straightened up in his seat, and began tidying his papers.

“Ah, a famous Hansbrough party! They throw amazing parties!” Richie moved closer to Eddie and started shuffling through his papers. “What were you trying to study earlier before that couple decided to sex it up in the library?”

“Actually,” Eddie started. “Anatomy and Physiology.”

Richie burst out laughing before he straightened up and sending Eddie a swave wink. “Well, Eddie Spaghetti, I happen to know my way around the human body. Need any help studying?”

“Oh fuck off, Trashmouth!” Eddy said, throwing an Eraser at Richie’s head. Richie just chuckled and threw it back.

“But for real, if you ever need any help. I’m here.” Richie got up and started to move toward the front of the library. Eddie’s voice stopped him.

“Actually, Richie? I’d really enjoy the help.”

And turns out Richie was right. He really did know a thing or two about the human body.

#shania makes a thing #richie tozier #eddie spaghetti #EDS #eddie kaspbrak #reddie #reddie fic #reddie one shot #if this isnt the both of them i dont know what is

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westallenfun · 5 years

Text

A Gryffindor & a Hufflepuff

Westallen Secret Santa gift from @xswestallen for @xscarletspeedstress

WestAllen Hogwarts AU

Summary: Barry comes up with a plan to impress his longtime crush, Gryffindor student Iris West.

A/N: Barry is a Hufflepuff, Iris is a Gryffindor. Cisco and Caitlin are both Ravenclaws and prefects. All the characters are in 5th year. Also, I know at some point while working on this the line blurred between Caitlin and Cisco and Hermione and Ron.

“No magic in the corridors!”

Caitlin looked disapprovingly at Barry’s wand as she took her seat next to him and their other best friend, Cisco, who spoke up to correct Caitlin.

“This is the great hall, not a corridor.”

“The rule still applies.” Caitlin insisted.

“Does it?”

Barry rolled his eyes. He stuffed his wand back in his bag, ignoring his friends’ bickering over technicalities.

“I’m a prefect. I have to enforce the rules.” Caitlin was saying. “You should too.”

“I do, when they need enforcing. That rule is there to stop dueling. Barry wasn’t going to jinx anybody. He’s just practising.” Cisco explained.

“For what?”

Cisco waggled his eyebrows and tapped Barry on the arm.

“Tell her.”

But, Barry might as well have been in another universe for all the attention he was paying Cisco and Caitlin. He was staring across the great hall, transfixed. Iris West had just walked in.

Ever since his first day at Hogwarts, September the 1st five years ago, Barry has been hopelessly in love with Iris. They’d met on the Hogwarts Express.

Barry was the last student to board the train, having nearly missed it. He clumsily walked down the aisle with his trunk, peaking into compartments but finding no empty seats.

He was starting to panic, when he heard the sweetest voice say, “You can come sit with me if you want.”

Barry turned to see a fellow first year student. She handed some change to the lady with the sweets trolly and then looked back at Barry.

“Do you want to?” She asked again.

“Yeah. Thanks.” Barry said.

The girl took a bite of the purple sugar quill she’d just bought and smiled at Barry with full cheeks. It calmed his anxiety and he smiled back.

She held out her hand.

“I’m Iris by the way.”

“Barry. It’s nice to meet you, Iris.”

From that moment on, Barry was smitten. Unfortunately, he and Iris were sorted into different houses later that night. Since Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors in their year didn’t share many classes together, Barry didn’t get many opportunities to spend time with Iris. When he did, he cherished it.

Iris was Barry’s favorite person to talk to. He didn’t make friends easily and he was often picked on by kids more popular than him for being a nerd. He thought maybe that’s why any time he got to be around Iris was special to him, because she was one of the most popular students at the school, but she was always so kind to him. She listened to him talk about whatever fascinating anomaly had peaked his interest that week.

Iris had no shortage of friends. She was outgoing and charming in all the ways Barry wished he could be. People flocked to her, like she had some inherent magnetic field drawing them in. Barry knew he wasn’t the only person in Hogwarts covetting her attention. He figured that he was the least popular out of the lot.

Being in Hufflepuff didn’t help either. Not only did it mean he shared few classes with Iris, but many Gryffindors (and Slytherins) would laugh at Hufflepuff house, calling it the house you’re sorted into if the sorting hat has nowhere else to put you. Barry was proud to be a Hufflepuff, because he knew that house represented so many important values. But, the Hogwarts social hierarchy put all Hufflepuff at a disadvantage.

Iris was way out of his league. Barry’s reasonable side scolded himself for pinning for someone he had such a slim chance with, but he couldn’t stop the racing of his heartbeat whenever he saw Iris.

As Barry stared at Iris across the Great Hall, his heart was pounding. The noise of students chatting faded and the crowd of faces vanished. Barry felt like he and Iris were the only two people in the world.

Cisco snapped his fingers in front of Barry’s face.

“Man, I said tell her, not show her.”

Barry came back to his senses.

“Wha?”

Caitlin hid her smirk with her cup of tea.

“Oh, so you’re going to do something stupid to try and impress Iris?”

“It’s not stupid.” Barry scoffed. “It’s romantic.”

He took his wand back out and performed the conjuring spell. Four long stemmed, but wilted roses appeared.

“I see why you have to keep practicing.” Caitlin noted.

Barry slammed his wand down on the table in frustration. He’d been practicing for a week and hadn’t managed to conjure fresh flowers yet.

Cisco put his hand on Barry’s shoulder.

“Hey, it’s alright, man. Dead flowers aren’t so bad. You could just tell Iris you meant to conjure them like that, because you want to grow old and shrivel up with her.”

Caitlin breathed a laugh.

“That might be coming on a little strong.”

Barry sighed. He put his head down on the table.

“This is stupid. Even if get the spell right, it won’t be enough to make Iris like me like that.”

“How do you know?” Caitlin asked. “If you just tell Iris how you feel-”

“No!” Barry cut Caitlin off.

Caitlin looked pleadingly at Cisco.

“Sorry, I’m with Barry on this.” Cisco said. “He has to go big or go home. Iris is a Gryffindor, you know how showboaty they are. Barry can’t just profess his undying love all casual, he has to do something to show it.”

Caitlin frowned.

“You know Iris isn’t like that. She cares about what’s in people’s hearts, not their proficiency at floral charms. You don’t have to show off. Honestly, if you merely gave her a cup of mint chocolate chip ice cream, she’d be eternally grateful.”

Remembering that mint chocolate chip ice cream was ineed Iris’ favorite food from a conversation they’d had a few years ago, Barry lifted his head and looked at Caitlin.

“How would you know so much about Iris all of a sudden?”

“I’ve been studying for the arithmancy final with her.” Caitlin said like it was no big deal.

Barry’s eyes lit up.

“What?! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because, I knew you’d flip out and try to use the situation as a way to get with her, and I just wanted a study partner.”

Barry gazed back at Iris.

In a smug voice, Caitlin reminded Barry, “I told you when we picked our elections, you should’ve signed up for arithmancy.”

“Arithmancy is the worst.” Cisco mumbled, mouth full of food.

“It’s actually very interesting.” Caitlin defended. “But, this final is supposed to be very difficult. Another reason I wasn’t telling Barry how I study with Iris. We have enough distractions as it is, with Peeves flying around, knocking things over, stealing our books, and coming up with asinine songs to sing. He’s a menace to the entire library.”

Peeves was the castle’s resident poltergeist. All the students hate him, but they couldn’t do anything about his increasingly annoying hijinxs because the banishing spell for a poltergeist was too complicated.

Barry suddenly smiled.

“That’s it!” He proclaimed.

Cisco, who’d been about to take another bite of food, stopped and a bit of mashed potatoes fell off his fork.

“What’s it?”

“When Caitlin and Iris are studying and Peeves makes a scene, I’ll show up and banish him.” Barry explained. “Iris will surely be impressed. The whole school will be when hear that I got rid of Peeves.”

Caitlin rolled her eyes.

“Even if you could master the banishing spell, are you sure that’s how you want to get Iris interested in you?”

“Of course. When I stand up to Peeves I’ll be proving to Iris how brave and chivalrous I am.”

Cisco high-fived Barry.

“No Gryffindor could resist.”

Caitlin sipped her pumpkin juice in quiet skepticism.

The next week, in the library, Barry peered around a bookshelf to watch as Iris came and sat down at a table next to Caitlin.

“Do you think this final is going to be as bad as everyone says?” Iris asked. She looked nervous.

Caitlin pulled her number charts out of her bag and spread them out.

“We better prepare for the worst.”

“God, I hope Peeves doesn’t show up here again. We have enough to worry about.” Iris sighed.

Barry smirked. He felt confident he’d be taking care of the Peeves problem for Iris. Every spare moment he had over the last week was dedicated to practising the banishing spell, which Barry found he had quite a nach for. He’d banished half the furniture in his dorm room (something he’d apologize to his roomates for later).

Iris and Caitlin chatted and studied for a few minutes with no sign of Peeves. Barry felt his stomach fill with butterflies as he watched Iris. She had this way about her. Even the most mundane things she did, like turning the pages of her textbook, were beautiful. Barry noted how she’d scrunch up her nose when reading a difficult question and how she’d tap her quill to the tune of a Weird Sisters song when she was deep in thought.

Iris leaned in closer to Caitlin, pointing to something on her paper.

“Which statistic did you-”

Whatever Iris asking was lost, because everyone’s attention immediately turned to the book that was soaring across the library, only to hit Eddie Thawne in the back of the head. Eddie stumbled and had to catch his balance by grabbing onto a nearby chair.

“Who threw that?” He demanded.

A high-pitch, maniacal laugh resounded. Rising from between bookshelves and levitating into the air, was Peeves.

“Hahaha. Oh, don’t look at me like that, Thawny-hony. I was doing you a favor. You said you needed a book on goblins. I deliver it to you, free of charge.” Peeves taunted.

He gave a little bow. The shit-eating grin on his face made all of the occupants of the library scowl. Eddie picked up the book and threw it right back at Peeves.

Eddie was a chaser on the Gryffindor quidditch team and had excellent aim. Unfortunately, Peeves had the power of invisibility. He disappeared in the blink of an eye.

“Missed me, missed me, now you gotta kiss me!” The disembodied voice of Peeves blabbered.

Barry looked at Iris. She slammed her quill down and stood up.

“That’s enough.” She asserted. “Get out of here, Peeves.”

The poltergeist rematerialised next to Iris.

“Uh-oh! Are you not enjoying my company? You are all so dull, you could put me to sleep.”

Peeves pushed all of Iris and Caitlin’s study material off their table and laid down on it.

“PEEVES!” Iris cried, disgusted.

Anger and adrenaline rushing through him, Barry sprung out from where he’d been watching. His wand was drawn and his eyes fixed on Peeves.

“She said, that was enough.” Barry said sternly.

Peeves waved off Barry’s reminder.

“She says a lot of things, I don’t listen to most.”

Barry grit his teeth.

“You better listen to this.” He warned Peeves.

“Oh, do tell, Allen. What do you have to say?” Peeves sneered. He rolled over onto his stomach and supported his chin with his hands.

“You’ve harassed the students of Hogwarts for too long. The teachers aren’t allowed to do anything, the students don’t know how, so you’ve gotten away with it, but that ends now.”

Peeves examined his fingernails, looking bored. Barry’s eyes slipped from the nuance laying on the table in front of him, to Iris, who looked hopefully at him.

“I’m going to banish you.” Barry announced.

Peeves roared with laughter. He rose off the table, floating into the air.

“You? Banish me? I will hand it to you, Allen, you can tell a joke. That was so funny, you’re making me choke.”

“SHUT UP!” Barry yelled.

He climbed atop the table to get closer to Peeves.

Peeves fell silent. He narrowed his eyes at Barry, who, for a second, was worried Peeves was about to charge at him. But, Peeves spread his arms wide and hung still in the air.

“Give it your best shot.”

Barry felt the eyes of everyone in the library on him. His wand felt slippery in his sweaty palms. He glanced at Iris, who was watching with bated breath. For her, Barry gathered his confidence.

Barry pointed his wand at Peeves and said the incantation, “Depulso!”

Nothing happened.

Barry flicked his hand and tried a second time.

“Depulso!”

Nothing.

Peeves looked down at his own body.

“Still here.” He said flatly.

Whispers rang in Barry’s ear. He knew his fellow students were doubting him now.

“Depulso! Depulso! Depulso!” Barry shouted over and over.

Peeves cackled and sang,

“Oh wee Barry Allen said he’d banished ol’ me, but here I am. What a bad plan! He’s a liar, more foolish than Fat Friar!”

“SHUT UP!” Barry yelled again.

Peeves kept singing,

“I’m teachner now, here is your lesson: if you’re a liar, liar, and with Peeves you’re messin’, I will set your pants on fire!”

Barry’s trousers burst into flames. He yelped in pain. Some of the onlooking students laughed, others moved away from him in fear they’d catch fire.

Barry clumsily jumped off the table and landed with a thud. He rolled around on the carpet, trying to extinguish the flames. It wasn’t working. Scared and humiliated, Barry felt like he was in Hell, being consumed by flames and those around finding humor in his suffering. It seemed like an eternity of painful burning and taunting. Barry was making himself dizzy from rolling.

“AGUAMENTI!” Someone shouted.

A jet of cool water hit Barry and the flames were extinguished.

He stumbled to his feet and saw Iris standing in front of him, her wand drawn, having cast the charm that put the fire out. She opened her mouth to speak, but Barry blew past her.

Huffing for breath, Barry ran as fast as he could away from the scene. The jeers of Peeves and other students echoed down the corridor. He had never been more humiliated. Not only were his chances of impressing Iris gone, but now he’d surely ruined their friendship, making himself look so stupid that she’d never want to speak to him again. Nobody in the entire school would.

When Barry reached the refuge of his dorm room, he slammed the door closed, locked him, and crawled under the covers, intent on never showing his face again.

“Come on, it wasn’t that bad.”

Cisco sat on the side of Barry’s bed, trying to console his best friend.

“It was.” Barry mumbled from under his comforter.

“Nobody’s even talking about it anymore. They’ve moved on. Yesterday, Seamus Finnigan accidently conjured a tarantula and wet his pants.” Cisco recounted. “It’s him who should be hiding up here.”

“When people see my face, it will remind them.”

“Ugh, Barry, you can’t live under this blanket forever. How are you ever going to get a date?”

“My chances of ever getting a date are the same here as they would be if I went out in public.” Barry sighed.

“You’re going to fail all your classes. You already missed two days, you can’t miss another.” Cisco insisted.

Cisco ripped the cover off, grabbed Barry from under the arms, and dragged him out of the bed.

“No.” Barry groaned in protest.

“Yes. Come on, we don’t want to miss breakfast.”

Barry survived classes that day by avoiding eye contact with everyone. He’d pack his things before class was dismissed and the second it was, he’d run out of that classroom and into the next, to ensure he wouldn’t have to talk to anybody. So far, so good, though, Barry still would’ve liked to have an invisibility cloak.

After leaving his last class, Barry planned on running straight to his dorm room. He was halfway across the castle when he saw Tony Woodward and Vincent Crabbe, two 5th years, had a 1st year cornered.

“Looks like you were born to take a beating.” Woodward laughed.

Barry, knowing all too well what being that 1st year was like, couldn’t just walk away.

“Leave him alone, Woodward.” Barry commanded.

Woodward and Crabbe turned around. Their faces lit up with glee.

“Well, if it isn’t, Allen. What are you gonna do? Banish us?” Woodward teased.

“Is your rump still burned from the fire?” Crabbe asked in mock concern.

Woodward nugged Crabbe on the arm and said, “I bet that’s not all that was burned.”

Crabbe laughed and added, “Not that he would’ve had much to begin with!”

Barry kept looking at the 1st year, who was shaking with fear.

“Clearly I’m more fun for you to pick on.” Barry said. “So let the kid go.”

“Not our new friend. We can’t say goodbye yet.” Woodward pouted.

“Let. Him. Go.”

“Make me.”

Barry ran towards Woodward and Crabbe. He knew he was fighting a losing battle. There was no way he could go up against just one of them, let alone both. But, at least, it gave the 1st year student a chance to escape.

Wooward and Crabbe strode off with smiles, bragging to each other about how well they’d just done in the fight. Barry was left in the corridor, snorting bat-bogeys out of his nose. He’d just gotten a large, gross one out when he saw Iris peaking at him from around the corner.

Her voice shook, “Barry?”

He couldn’t believe his misfortune.

“How long have you been standing there?” Barry asked, scared of the answer.

“A long time.”

Barry sighed, “That’s just great.”

He was too tired to run. He supposing that since Iris had now seen him humiliate himself in the library and get his ass handed to him by Woodward and Crabbe, it couldn’t get any worse. There was no point in hiding, hoping she’d forget.

Iris knelt down beside Barry. She handed him a tissue from her bag.

“Thanks.” He said, shocked she would get this close to him.

“Where have you been the past couple of days? I’ve been looking for you.”

Barry furrowed his brows.

“Why? Need something to light a match off?”

Iris didn’t laugh at him like Barry assumed she would. She looked hurt.

“Barry, I was worried about you.”

“You were?”

“Of course! You’re my friend.”

“I didn’t think you cared that much.” Barry admitted. When he realized how that sounded, he went on, “I didn’t think anyone cared that much about me.”

“I do.” Iris assured him. She put her arm around Barry. “What did I ever do to make you think I wouldn’t care?”

“I guess… nothing. It’s just that… you’re Iris West!”

Iris smiled but looked confused.

“Yes, that is my name.”

“You’re popular, and so pretty, smart, and fun. And, everybody likes you. You could be friends with anybody in school, so I just didn’t think you’d pick me.”

“Why not? You’re Barry Allen! You’re so smart, and nice, and thoughtful. And, you’re very cute.”

Barry blushed.

Iris went on, “You mean a lot to me, Barry. You have since we met on our first day of school.”

Barry smiled.

“I think about that day all the time. How lucky I was to have to met you and how, from the second I did, I’ve never stopped thinking about you. Then, we got sorted into different houses. I’m a Hufflepuff and you’re a Gryffindor.”

“What does that matter?” Iris asked.

“I guess we value different thing. You want someone who’s daring and courageous. But, I’m just-”

Iris finished Barry’s sentence for him.

“You’re just the most fair, hardworking, and kindest person I’ve ever met. Not to mention, daring and courageous.”

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better.”

“It’s not a lie.” Iris said earnestly. “I mean it. The way you stood up to Peeves in the library, or just now when you took on Tony and Vincent to help that kid, was amazing.”

“I got pummeled both times.” Barry reminded her, gesturing to his swollen post-bat-bogey hex nose.

“Yeah, but after the first time, you still stood up for what’s right the second. That’s real courage.”

The setting sun gleamed in through the window, making Iris’ eyes sparkle and her skin glow. She looked more beautiful than ever. Barry felt his heart pounding.

“I love you, Iris.” He whispered.

She smiled.

“I love you, Barry.”

Iris moved forward and so did Barry. He caressed her cheek and tilted her head slightly, so he could kiss her. Iris opened her mouth and welcomed him in. For a glorious minute, they were one.

When it was over, Barry blinked, blinded by the sun in his eyes. He worried it had been a dream. To his delight, Iris was still there beside him.

“I love you, Iris.”

She giggled.

“You said that already.

“I’m feeling brave enough to say it a lot more.”

#the flash #westallen secret santa #westallen #Barry Allen #Iris WestAllen #Iris West #xswestallen #fanfiction #the flash fanfiction

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stanananathon · 6 years

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stozier wedding au

richie was freaking out. it was a good kind of freaking out, he thinks, but freaking out nonetheless.

he’s getting married today. married. to his best friend. he can’t wait! except that he has to.

he and stan made this ridiculous agreement that they wouldn’t see each other the day of the ceremony until they walked down the aisle. at the time it seemed like a good idea but now richie couldn’t remember a time when he regretted a decision more.

by not seeing stan he couldn’t help the doubts flooding in. what if stan didn’t want to see richie so that he could run out? what if yesterday was the last time richie would see stan? what if something happened to stan and richie can’t do anything?

“hey, trashmouth, get out of your head. everything’s fine.” richie looked up at his entourage, bev and eddie. eddie was looking down at his phone, and bev was giving him a look.

“but what if it’s not, bev?” richie’s leg was shaking from his seat in the chair and he had to hold his hands from running them through his hair. he knew stan would hate it if he had messed up hair on their wedding day.

“you can’t keep letting all these what if’s get in the way of the happiest day of your life. you have one hour until the ceremony you’ve made it this far, you can do it.” as exasperated as bev was she still managed to sound reassuring.

bev’s phone buzzed and she stood up. “i’ll be right back, ben needs me for something. eddie?”

eddie looked up from his phone dutifully.

“don’t let him go anywhere.” richie groane dramatically as eddie nodded his head and turned off his phone to keep his eyes right on richie. after bev closes the door richie turned back to eddie.

“c’mon spaghetti, you’re not gonna deprive me of seeing my man just for a couple minutes are you?”

“oh, shut up. did you actually think using that nickname would help you? cos you were very wrong.” eddie took a second before his eyes softened. he and richie had a brief thing when they were 15 but it wasn’t meant to be. they ended up becoming closer friends because of it and after eddie and mike got together and richie and stan did it really felt like the world was the way it was supposed to be.

“I know this is hard for you, rich, I do. but you’ve gotta trust us. stan is just fine and he’s not gonna run out on you. truthfully he’s probably just as worried about you doing that to him.”

“I’d—“ richie starts to protest but eddie cuts him off.

“I know you’d never do that. that’s how I know stan never would either. you’ve just gotta trust us, okay? if something were to seriously go wrong, you know we’d tell you.” richie nodded and allowed himself to take a deep breath.

“yeah, yeah. you’re right.” eddie smirked.

“always am.” richie managed a bark of a laugh before standing up and wiping his palms on the front of his trousers.

“i’m just gonna go for a little walk. you can stand guard outside the door, don’t worry. just need to get a stretch in these ol’ long legs.” richie grinned and eddie eyes him skeptically before standing up.

“all right, but I swear if you pull any funny business...”

“aw, c’mon, eds, you know me.” and eddie did. so he really should have expected it when richie started sprinting the second the door opens.

———————

stan was freaking out. not because he was nervous but because he could tell richie was freaking out and it was stressing him out. bill kept looking at his phone and quickly typing replies, and stan could tell he was talking to bev about richie.

why did he and richie have to agree not to see each other? neither of them were superstitious. this was ridiculous. at the time it seemed like a sweet thing to do, but now stan saw how illogical it was, and he was ready to call it off.

“look, bill—“

“nope.” bill cut him off. “I know what you’re going to say and you know that you made me promise not to let you guys see each other.”

“but this is ridiculous! I know he’s freaking out, and I know you’re texting bev and I know the only way to make him feel better is for me to talk to him. c’mon, bill.”

this time mike cut in. “stan, you know that’s not true. richie has bev and eddie and they’re both more than capable of taking care of richie.” his strong voice always had a way of making stan want to believe every word he said when they were kids, and nothing had changed now.

“yeah, but if i could just—“ stan put out his hands in a helpless gesture.

“stan.” stan’s hands dropped and mike took them in his. “everything is—“

“STAN! STANLEY! STANATHAN!”

“GOD DAMMIT RICHARD GET BACK HERE.”

stan’s head shot up at the sound of richie and eddie’s shouts. he immediately stood up and raced to the door where he saw richie sprinting towards him and eddie trailing desperately behind. stan couldn’t help himself, he ran straight into richie’s arms.

richie held on tightly to stan as stan reassuringly ran his fingers through richie’s curls. they just held each other for a few moments before stand leaned back ever so slightly to look at richie’s face.

“you okay?” he ran his thumbs across richie’s cheekbones and richie let out a soft sigh.

“yeah, i’m okay.” he smiled. “I just—“ he flexed his fingers around stan’s hips as a way of finishing his sentence and stan nodded because he understood. richie needed to see him, needed to feel him, to know he was there and he wasn’t going anywhere. “this was stupid, why’d we do this?”

stan laughed lightly and shook his head, “I don’t know.”

“because,” eddie interrupted, “you wanted to make this day more special which you too have officially ruined. now there’s only ten minutes until the ceremony and you two have the rest of your lives to grope each other, so come on, richie. let’s go.”

richie squeezes stan’s ass as if to prove eddie’s point and cackled when stan gasped and swatted at his chest. “all right, spaghetti. i’m coming.” he pecked stan’s forehead and mumbled out a soft, “love you.” before letting go and making his way back down the hallway. “you look fine as hell, by the way!”

stan laughed and waved him off. he turned back to look at a bewildered mike and bill, who shook his head. “i’ll never pretend to understand you two.” stan shrugged with a small smile on his lips.

“that’s okay. you don’t have to.” bill rolled his eyes and lead stan back into his waiting room.

——————

“what most of you don’t know is that just before the ceremony this morning we had to basically fight to keep these two apart.” the crowd laughed as eddie continued his best man’s speech.

“these idiots had decided they would do the traditional not seeing each other before the ceremony but not even an hour before I had to sprint after richie down and hallway towards the room stan was waiting in because he just had to see him.” eddie grinned.

“i’ve known richie and stan almost my whole life and seeing them grow together has inspired me. they’re the it couple. they balance each other out in the best ways, and I couldn’t be more excited for their new journey.” eddie raised his glasses at them and richie raised his as he pretended not to wipe a tear from his eye. “to richie and stan.”

the crowd joined in on the toast and richie took a swig if his champagne with them. he leaned back and put his arm around the back of stan’s chair and took a moment to admire his husband. stan noticed richie’s staring and turned to look at him. they locked eyes and richie swore that just in that look stan knew everything richie was feeling and richie knew everything stan was feeling.

“I love you so much.” richie told him.

“I love you more.” stan quipped back and richie shook his head before pulling stan into a kiss.

“not possible.”

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shootingstarcipher-blog · 7 years

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Snowflakes (Part 1 of Dying Angels)

He kept his dark eyes focused on the frosty ground below, his mouth shut and his hands grappled for the inhaler he never left the house without. He didn’t know it, but he was being watched – constantly, for Richie’s gaze never left his face. Richie thought he was mad for still wearing shorts in such cold weather, but Eddie never had seemed to give a damn about what he thought. Richie smiled at that realisation before immediately considering that perhaps it was a bad thing, because perhaps he cared a little too much about what Eddie Kaspbrak thought of him.

Regardless, it was far too cold for him to be wandering around in shorts that barely covered the top half of this thighs and while it may have been perfectly cute and innocent a few years ago, now he was beginning to realise that the comments a lot of the other students were making about his friend and the way he chose to dress were far more disturbing. He was used to being bullied – all seven of them were – but this was different; this was disgusting. And it wasn’t just the shorts that they were talking about. Sometimes he heard them mention his tight shirts as well, and more than once Richie had heard someone make a passing comment about how little clothing his friend tended to wear. In reality, it wasn’t that Eddie was showing off; he just barely seemed to feel the cold and it had been that way for the last four years.

Richie, on the other hand, was almost freezing in spite of his warm jacket, jeans and long-sleeved shirt. And still, as he caught a glimpse of another student glaring at his friend when they stepped onto the coach and sat down side by side, he took of his jacket without a moment’s thought and draped it across Eddie’s body like a blanket, simultaneously ignoring the shivers that rippled through his own body in response. Eddie seemed confused but thanked him anyway before sinking into his cushioned seat and closing his eyes, preparing to sleep for the entire five-hour journey.

Richie didn’t blame him. The sky outside the window was dark and stormy and the handful of rays of sunlight that did manage to seep through the low-hanging clouds barely illuminated the outside world at all. In the air, snowflakes were threatening to fall and while he knew Eddie would at least appreciate their individuality and beauty, he hoped to God it wouldn’t get any colder.

As he contemplated the snow and happened to glance down at his friend, who hadn’t quite gone to sleep yet but had fallen into a more comfortable position, his head resting against the taller boy’s shoulder as if he’d confused it for a pillow, the similarities between Eddie Kaspbrak and the snowflakes he hoped would stay confined to the clouds became apparent. Obvious grace and fragility aside, it would be impossible to find anyone even remotely similar to Eddie Kaspbrak and Richie wouldn’t have had it any other way.

He was pulled out of his trance by a sharp hissing sound originating from across the aisle, where he found Beverly scowling in frustration at her failed attempts at getting his attention. She glanced at Ben, who was sitting beside her, and then pointed back towards Richie and Eddie before the two of them burst out into fits of giggles. Rolling his eyes, Richie turned away from them, gazing out the window with his thoughts consumed by the boy next to him, a secret smile playing upon his lips.

While Bev and Ben clearly seemed to think they knew what was going on in Richie’s head, Richie had spent the last few years praying to God that Eddie had no idea whatsoever. Of course, he always appeared to be oblivious when it came to these matters, but all he could do was hope he wasn’t hiding any real knowledge of his thoughts and feelings. Because even Richie Tozier himself didn’t understand what was going on in his mind – or his heart, for that matter.

It was as if, every single day without fail, there would be something new that would make his heart flutter ever so slightly or melt him away just a tiny bit more until eventually all that would be left of him would be blood and bone, the rest of him consumed in his own thoughts of Eddie Kaspbrak.

It was as if Eddie had never really been human, but rather some sort of mythological manifestation, the embodiment of elegance but with a hint of something slightly imperfect, something that allowed Richie to connect with him in a way he could never connect with something truly flawless – an angel, perhaps, but one hellbent on ruining his life forever.

He wondered if anyone else had ever thought of him like that; he couldn’t have been the only one, surely, but aside from any lewd remarks people made about his friend, he’d never once heard anyone mention something remotely romantic about him. Of course, while every one of the losers valued him just as much as he did, Richie liked to believe that his love and adoration for him was stronger – that the bond he and Eddie shared was stronger – because if he’d had to choose, he always would have said that Eddie was his favourite out of the rest of them. Hopefully, Eddie would have said the same about him.

The angel stirred in his sleep as the engine of the coach roared, its wheels screeching as it swerved around a corner. Acting purely on instinct, Richie threw out his arm defensively, forming a makeshift seatbelt around his friend until the coach settled back into its monotonous drone and he relaxed, his heartbeat slowing at the knowledge that the angel was safe. He could have been flung from his seat. He could have been propelled down to the front of the coach and hit his head. Being asleep and completely oblivious of the potential danger that could have just occurred, Eddie was incapable of overthinking things as he usually did, but Richie Tozier was not so impaired and took the task on himself, palms sweating as his mind rapidly produced mental images of what could have happened. Even though none of those scenarios had in fact occurred. Even though he knew he was being ridiculous. He just couldn’t stop.

He dared let a sigh of relief escape him eventually, which Stan Uris seemed to overhear because he leaned forwards in his seat and tapped him on the shoulder, attracting his attention. Next to him, Bill sat with his head resting against the window, eyes barely open but he appeared to be engrossed in a book. “Hey, Trashmouth,” Stan whispered to him, keeping his voice hushed so as not to disturb Bill, who looked as if he might have been about to fall asleep. Richie rolled his eyes at the nickname but gave Stan his full attention with a grin plastered on his face anyway. “You’re weirdly quiet,” Stan commented, alerting him to the fact that it was indeed true.

“Eddie’s asleep,” he whispered back, glancing down at the angel’s sleeping face with a soft smile.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Stan grinned (which was a rare sight in itself), before adding, “But I’m glad. Carry on.” He then proceeded to reach over and take the book from Bill’s loose grasp, Bill having by now fallen asleep, and after staring at him for a moment Richie turned back around with a slight scowl on his face, but that scowl soon turned into a knowing smile as he thought of how Stan and Bill had grown exceptionally close over the last few months, and how Stan seemed to feel more connected to him than any of the other losers. It took a lot of strength, but he managed not to mention it to him, realising that Stan might very well return his observation with one of his own.

He looked at his watch roughly every seven and a half minutes for the next hour before the urge to speak and have attention thrown in his direction became unbearable and he balled up a sheet of paper from the notebook he carried and threw it across the aisle, successfully hitting Beverly on the head. He did it once more before she retaliated, their playful fight only ending when she threatened to aim for Eddie (her aim had always been incredible, and it had only gotten better since their last rock fight, so Richie wasn’t willing to take any chances).

A part of him would have actually preferred for Eddie to have been woken up, but another knew that Eddie needed his sleep and besides, he looked so peaceful it would have practically killed him to disturb him, so for the time being that part of him must have been winning.

But when his breathing started to quiver halfway through the journey Richie decided he had no choice but to wake him up. He delved into his bag in search of his inhaler and, quickly finding it, held it to the younger boy’s mouth and urging him to breath into it, simultaneously shaking him gently by the shoulders in attempt at waking him up. His eyes flung themselves open just as Mike turned around to find out what was going on, immediately getting out of his seat to aid Richie in calming him down.

Eddie didn’t speak until his breathing had begun to return to normal, his hands starting to grow steady as they wound themselves around his inhaler, and in turn grasping Richie’s hands as well. “It was just…” He paused to take a deep breath, still struggling to breathe even with the help of his inhaler. “A nightmare, I guess.” Mike nodded and went back to his seat. Richie nodded and refused to move, hands still holding the inhaler.

“You wanna talk about it?” he asked quietly, his worry beginning to fade away to become replaced with intrigue. Eddie shook his head without a word, returned his inhaler to his bag, and trained his gaze on the window, the outside world passing in a dark, hazy blur as they drove across miles and miles of snow.

When their destination finally came into sight, Eddie leaned closer to Richie in anticipation and the two of them stared out of the window, eyes focused on the Overlook Hotel. Richie had no idea whether this trip was going to prove to be a good idea on the school’s part or not, but one thing was certain: sharing a room with an angel couldn’t be bad, even if that angel was trying to wreck his life.

They left the coach hand in hand, with the rest of the losers following behind them, and before leaving the comfort of their seats Richie had made sure to tie his jacket around Eddie hips, covering his legs and shielding them from the cold threat of the hastily falling snowflakes until they reached the hotel’s entrance. The way they aimed straight for the earth reminded him of bullets and he automatically hurried Eddie along, protectively slinging an arm around his waist in the process.

After checking in and then being subjected to a fifteen-minute-long lecture regarding appropriate social conduct for the duration of their stay, which essentially meant they did as they were told and in absence of a teacher used their common sense, each of the students were permitted to head to their assigned rooms, which would accommodate two or three students each. Naturally, the teachers all received their own rooms. Richie scoffed at that thought, frustrated by the hypocrisy of adults, but reluctantly admitted to himself that he, at the very least, was glad to be made to share a room knowing that the angel was the one he’d be sharing it with. Others may not have had the same good fortune.

As echoes of the footsteps behind them died away, he and Eddie stepped into the room that would be known as theirs over the next week (until they were collected and returned to Derry in that old, dilapidated coach) and Eddie instantly recoiled in horror, the two of them mentally recounting the reasons they had signed up for the trip.

For Richie – who was the first of the losers’ club to put his name down for it – it was practically a dream trip, the bonus of Eddie and his other friends joining him on it only making it better. While others saw him as idiotic and intellectually subpar, he had always excelled in more creative subjects like English and it was his English teacher who had proposed the trip to the Overlook in the first place, as part of his attempt to ignite a flame of inspiration in his students for their current topic: horror writing. This room was a perfect embodiment of the subject.

For Eddie, whilst the subject of writing was not something he found particularly stimulating (unlike maths and science, which he always did extremely well in), the idea of not seeing his best friend for an entire week was utterly horrendous. For Eddie, his reason was simple. Richie Tozier.

The peeling wallpaper, murky, worn down carpet with its indistinguishable colour, and the way every floorboard seemed to groan despondently as they were stepped on were precisely why the Overlook had been chosen as the perfect place to inspire a group of seventeen young horror writers, some more enthusiastic than others. For several minutes, while Richie claimed the bed closest to the door as his own and splayed out on it, Eddie refused to set foot inside the room, the dust and cobwebs triggering what he would have labelled an asthma attack but what was actually a bout of sudden and severe anxiety. It was only when he saw him breathing into his inhaler that Richie realised it was more serious than a mild distaste for the room’s outdated and depressing décor, and then immediately rushing to his side to calm him down until he was eventually able to coax him into the room.

Sitting hesitantly on the bed by the window, Eddie started to unpack his things whilst Richie ignored the concept of unpacking altogether, only unzipping his bag to grab a sweater (the angel still had his jacket and the room wasn’t much warmer than outside in the rain and snow) as well as a notepad and pencil, which he then used to note down anything and everything even remotely ghoulish or unnerving about the room. Within two minutes he’d filled an entire page with his list, a few of the items including: curtains that blew about in the breeze in spite of the window being closed, the enormous spider behind him on the headboard, and the eerily enchanting angel across the room – the one that looked like he wanted to murder him.

“Do you even know how to take care of a room? You can’t just sit there!” Eddie snarled at him, or at least he tried to, but Richie’s immediate response was to smirk at him for not being able to pull of an angry expression without reminding him of a chihuahua snapping at its owner’s heels.

“You don’t take care of a room, idiot. They take care of themselves. Besides, we’re just here to write.” Richie leaned back on his bed as he spoke, resting his notebook on his chest and locking eyes with the spider behind him. “I guess we could take care of this little guy though,” he joked, knowing full well how Eddie felt about spiders. He didn’t need to see the look on his face to know he was horrified, or to know that he’d flung himself across the room in a heartbeat and was standing with his back to the door, about to leave through it.

Richie sighed and sat up. They had to leave for dinner anyway, so they could continue their argument later (he had no intention of ever unpacking his bag and had already decided that if it bothered Eddie so much, he could do it himself) and so he headed towards the door, gaze fixated on the angel as he strode towards him. After a long, painfully quiet moment, Eddie finally asked what he was staring at, to which he replied, “Nothing – you just have snowflakes in your hair” before pushing past him and heading out into the corridor, Eddie closing the door after them.

#reddie #angst #fanfiction #it 2017 #romance #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak

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enz-fan · 5 years

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JUKE magazine review of Palais Theatre, Melbourne show - 23 March 1981. This was the show where Neil was electrocuted onstage.

https://www.setlist.fm/setlist/split-enz/1981/palais-theatre-melbourne-australia-1bc011ec.html

Venue: Palais Theatre, Melbourne

After five days in the bush on the first leg of their Outback Tour ‘81, Split Enz hit the big smoke last week for the first time in many moons.

Actually I shouldn’t mention the word smoke, because where there’s smoke there’s fire, and that’s a dirty word down at the Palais in St Kilda at the moment - the management has been forced to close the dress circle because fire safety facilities aren’t up to scratch and THAT has resulted in the Dire Straights concerts being transferred to Festivall Hall and...

Anyway, the Enz started with a bang, the curtain raising to the strains of didgeridoo, revealing a cloth of native design, which mysteriously swished to one side revealing the Enz in all their virginal white glory, glowing under the influence of ultraviolet lights, bringing wild cheers and even a touch of hysterical screaming (no, it’s wasn’t me).

The Enz new stage set, a Crombie Creation, consists of white triangles rising from behind the band, and large white banners - sails, almost - draped from the roof.

Through this potentially sterile setting ramped the manic Tim Finn and his loose-limbed brother Neil, as they commenced to stoke the embers of the blaze created by support band Pop Mechanis (a frenetically fab combo with a singer and bass player who engage in some almost ritaualistic crazy dancing in to their own short, snappy and immensely enjoyable soundtrack).

The Enz opened with “History Never Repeats,” the song which seems to be on the radio every time I turn it on - history might not repeat but the single does...

Unfortunately, it’s not a whiz-bang opener, lacking some of the body of the record; and the acapella harmony in the middle just isn’t the same with only two voices.

It’s obvious from the word go that Noel Crombie has had little trouble making the transition from resident up-front focal point-cum-percussionist, majoring in weirdness, to the pulse of the Enz. Gone is the vacant, wide-eyed, bonga-playing innocent. He’s up on the drum-riser giving his arms full rein: a picture of rhythmic concentration. He’s not confident enough yet to venture far away from the straight rhythm patterns, but no doubt his percussive ability will be brought to bear at a later stage.

From “History,” the Enz switched into “I Don’t Wanna Dance,” from the new album, which proves that Tim Finn is in excellent form. Neil takes over for the next number, “What’s The Matter With You,” which slides into “One Step Ahead,” each accompanied by nubile belllowings of approval.

This sets the pattern for the evening as temperatures rise. Tim and Neil bounce off each other all evening - sometimes literally - as they take it in turns to handle lead vocals, Tim ranging around the stage, Neil quivering at the mike stand as he sings and plays. Tim seemed to pick up on Neil’s youthful energy and became more and more physically involved with his performance, moving from his trademark hand-behind-the-back stance to some demented cavorting.

Now that the Enz have been pared down to a quintet, the contribution of keyboardsman Eddie Rayner becomes more obvious.

Neil is more a rhythm player than a lead guitarist, which leaves Eddie to add the color and texture, a task he performs with incredible dexterity and ability, utilising a wide range of kayboards. This was particularly evident in songs such as the evocative “Ghost Girl” and, also from the new album, “Walking Thru The Ruins.”

It was again brought home during a version of the Enz classic “(That Was) My Mistake,” where Eddie used his synthesisers to recreate a range of effects previously handled by Noel, such as whistles, cowbells and so on.

Eddie’s instrumental from the new LP - “Wail” - was another highlight: a compelling, beat-heavy piece reminiscent of ELO.

“Poor Boy,” “Shark Attack,” “I Got You” (bulk screams) and “Nobody Takes Me Seriously” also impressed. Naturally, the Enz were really firing as they reached the end of their set, having persuaded the majority of the audience to leave their seats and jive in the aisles.

The band returned for an encore, after several minutes of rousing encouragement, to perform two numbers - the first an odd, almost inspirational number with musical hall style overtones, called “Something To Do,” exhorting everyone to find something to do which they like doing.

A song with a message for those who feel they have no mission in life? Only the Enz know, but it went down well and was quickly followed up by “I See Red” - a stirring and gutsy version.

More screams which lasted longer than before and the Enz returned for a second encore. Just as they were getting ready Neil Finn rushed from the stage. Tim looked confused, and asked Eddie Rayner to play a little piano music while he coolly sauntered off to see what was up with Neil.

He returned and informed the audience that Neil had received a bad electrical shock from his guitar and the show was over.

Some of the younger fans were almost as shocked as Neil. Frantic screams of ‘Is he OK’ brought no response from the roadies. As it turned out, Neil was burned from the shock.

It was an anti-climatic ending to the Enz otherwise stunning performance.

The Enz excelled musically and visually; we’re lucky there aren’t fire regulations governing hot bands.

- ALLAN WEBSTER

#splitenz #live/tour #1981

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xoleahbeanxo · 7 years

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Sing! A Side Story: Chapter Four

Alright, here’s the last chapter of my Sing short fanfiction. I know it was all just a pile of mushy mush but I really enjoyed writing it. I hope you enjoyed reading it.

The Waiting is the Hardest Part

“Can I get everyone back on stage, please!”

The loud blare of the bullhorn jolted Lee awake. How long have I been a sleep? The hyena asked as he fought to blink the sleep out of his eyes. Rosita snorted and lifted her head from his shoulder slowly, immediately embarrassed that she’d fallen asleep.

“I’m so sorry,” She mumbled getting to her feet in a hurry. “I can’t believe I fell asleep.”

“Me too,” Lee groaned as fought to get to his feet. His butt throbbed from sitting on the hard steps for so long.

Before either of them could regain their composure, they were swept away by an onslaught of animals that could hardly wait to hear their fate.

Once on stage, beneath the hot lights, Lee felt his knees tremble again. He was gathered amongst the other contestants. They were packed all together so tightly that he barely had enough room to move. Nor could he catch his breath but that was more from the ill-smelling flatulence of the buffalo standing next to him. The giraffe on the other side offered no comfort or escape. Every time Lee moved closer to him, he’d either get hip bumped back or get his foot stepped on. The mumbling of the contests sounded like waves crashing against the other side of the wall in a hollow drone.

Everything came to a halt once the koala, Mr. Moon, walked up the stairs with a clip board under his arm. To one side was Miss Crawley and Eddie lingered back a few steps on the other side.

“Hello everyone, it’s so nice to see you back again.” The koala’s chipper tone was enough to ease anyone anxiety, which was great because Lee was beginning to succumb to his nausea from his own.

“Alright, just so you know, none of these decisions came easy. If I had it my way, I’d have let all of you into the show.” His laugh was soothing and very believable. “But I had to make the hard choices here.”

Choices? Lee wondered as if he’d never heard the word before. The word was harmless up until the point. Now that it directly decided something in the hyena’s life, the word instilled fear, causing his heart to hammer heavily against his ribcage and throb into his ears. It was so loud that he could barely hear anything. It felt as if he’d go deaf. Did he say, Lee? There, he said it, no. How about now? No.

Mr. Moon groaned and lowered the bullhorn. “Oh man, this going to drive me crazy! Johnny, come back here son. You’re in the show.”

Lee saw the young gorilla halfway up the aisle turn. There was a light in his eyes that couldn’t be missed. Johnny, Lee internalized. Johnny was young; this was definitely a game he was meant to play. There was Gunter, the pig in the gold track suit, who was hungry to spread his ‘piggy power’ to the masses. Ash, the porcupine was walking away for now. She followed behind her ungrateful and delusional front man. She had a fire inside of her that threatened to burn down auditorium.

Lee couldn’t forget Mike, that boisterous mouse with golden pipes, had an urge that could push him to do just about anything to win. The camel, who Lee failed to catch his name, had a beautiful operatic range that he couldn’t hope to attain. It was obvious he loved to sing and had the skills to take him all the way through. Lastly, Rosita, the beautiful house wife pig that had comforted him back stage. She had something to prove, not only to the world but to herself as well. She deserved to win even if that was the role Lee was meant to play. Lee wasn’t an expert on the theater but he knew enough to know that there were only so many roles to be played. An all the roles were filled with the right people. That was just fine with him.

The hyena walked down the steps and started up the center aisle. He’d be lying if he said he wasn't a little disappointed about not getting selected to be in the show but when it boiled right down to it, he wasn’t as good as the rest of them and that wasn’t a bad thing. They all deserved their day to shine in the spotlight. Besides, his spotlight would always be the brightest.

Lee turned to look at his wife who was always shining for him. Ellie stood at the edge of the row with a wad of tissues in her hand. Her eyes were red from crying. He could tell she was on the cusp of it right this very minute. He could ask her why but it wasn’t important right now. What was important was that she was there for him as she promised and he’d sung his heart out, not just for the audition but for her because he knew she was watching. Lee took her hand and pulled her close, letting his lips linger at her cheek for a moment.

“I’m sorry you didn’t win.” She sniffled and pressed a kiss to his jawline.

Lee smiled warmly at her. “That’s alright. This wasn’t my game, to begin with, and it was never about winning because I already won when-”

“You’re going to say something mushy, aren’t you?” She giggled as she tucked her tissues into the pocket of her jeans.

“Well not now, I’m not.” His hyena laugh spiked as they walked out of the old theater house into the streets.

They strolled back to where their car was parked in the side alley. Neither of them spoke. They just enjoyed the closeness of the warm coming evening. It was time to go pick up Ashley and head home to their much more grounded life. It was nice to live the dream for a second, though. It was even nicer to at least try for something, even if it meant failing. There were only a million more clichés Lee could take away from it.

“Think you got one more song in you,” Ellie ran a tender caress up his arm just under the hem of his t-shirt sleeve.

“Why?”

Ellie averted her gaze from him in contemplation. “I never did get my shower song.”

“I think I can make the arrangements,” Lee opened the passenger side door for her. “And I promise, it won’t be anything mushy.”

Ellie slipped into her seat, putting on her seat belt. “You know…If you want to sing something mushy, I might make an exception just this once.”

“Mushy it is then.” Lee laughed before closing her door before rounding the car to get in.

Lee kept one hand on the wheel while letting his other search for Ellie’s hand resting in her lap. He laced their fingers, feeling the nub of the ring on her finger. It brought her gaze up to meet his and they looked away just as quickly. The fresh wave of teasing sent a warm feeling all through him. The only thing better than being young and in love was being old with the one that you love.

It’s a well-known fact that every competition has to have a winner and a loser. But there are often varying degrees of winning and losing when it comes to life. Lee was unlucky enough to lose often but all of that was so easily forgotten when he took into perspective how big he’d already won.

#Sing was amazing #Buster Moon was so cute #Rosita was hot #Lee is a fat dork but that's why I love him.

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