#also featuring horribly painfully oblivious will believe me

[mediumgayitalian]

part one

———

Nico’s memory is…screwy.

The Lethe warped things, but the body stores memory in strange ways. The only image he has of his mother is the gentle swish of her skirts as Zeus incinerated her, the echo of her fond scoff and curled r’s. Even that memory was shown to him. Most of his childhood memories are from the Lotus Casino, really, running after Bianca through the flashing games and then running away from her, laughing, when she forbid him from driving on the racetrack. His sister is the centre of his memories. He keeps them under lock and key, buried in the same place he keeps Mythomagic stats and his constant string of fear.

(The key is rusted and the lock is loose. He sees her in every mirror, now, in every mirror. She was pretty. Beautiful. He always thought so. She hid herself in too-large sweaters and shapeless skirts, crooked stockings and her floppy green hat. Kept her hand curled around his, turned away from the boys who smiled at her, touched her shoulders. She was his entire world, and he is beginning to realize that he was her world, too, only she had no one to care for her. It makes Nico ache to think about, the tears he sometimes saw welling up in her dark eyes, the creases in her angular, beautiful face. Her pain is as familiar in his reflection as the shape of her nose, identical to his.)

(Gorgeous, Will called him.)

Warped as his memories are, Nico isn’t completely stranded — he has dreams.

His dreams, although rare, are clear. He is a spectator of himself, and voyeur of his own life. He does not remember Venice, does not remember his bedroom, the country side, the kitchen table. But he remembers every dream he has.

Including, embarrassingly, a lecture that had both him and Bianca red-cheeked and scowling.

“You-a smart, bambina,” Maria had said to Bianca, squeezing her chin with flour-covered hands. “Una belladonna giovane, si, Niccolò?”

Nico had snickered into his hands, legs kicking, looking at his sister cross-eyed with his tongue sticking out.

“Bianca è una picchia,” Nico had teased, repeating his mother’s words from the last time she’d been scolded. “Una piantagrane!”

Bianca’s eyes had flashed. “Nico, I’m gonna sell your stupido toys —”

“Sonno worries forra my Bianca,” Maria had interrupted, eyebrows raised. “Ragazzi comma running. But you, Niccolò.” She dragged him back by the cuff of his shirt, cutting off his escape attempts. ““È importante, capisci? Lookame. Niccolò. Lookame.”

He spent a lot of time fidgeting, he remembers. Bouncing off the walls.

His mother was patient.

“You gonna be uno marito, un giorno. Gonna marry a nice-a girl. You gotta sai come fate.”

He wakes up from the dream embarrassed.

He knows why it was brought from the depths of his subconscious. He’s not dense. But he wishes, as he rips the sheets off his sweaty body, that it had stayed in those stupid trenches.

His mother’s raspy, cigarette-smoker voice twists with Will’s smooth rumble: You gonna be uno marito, one day. I’ve had a crush on you for forever.

He buries his burning face in his knees. What is Will’s problem. Who says that?

Nico has had crushes before. Telling Percy made him nauseous for three days. And Will just — said it. Said it!

He rolls onto the floor, refusing to think about it any longer. He has things to do today. Children to humble. He cannot afford — distractions.

Of course, he is distracted anyway.

He hears the kids in his sword fighting class whisper to themselves. They usually do, but there’s an audible difference to it; they sound more like the giggling naiads than nervous kids. Nico spends all three of his classes tense as a rod, stiffer than he usually is a suffering for it.

He dismisses each one of his classes early.

By lunchtime, he’s exhausted. He’s tempted to skip all together, but yesterday he ran out of snacks, and if he skips two days in a row Will’ll come marching, which is the last thing he needs. He lingers in the amphitheatre, biting the inside of his thumb, weighing his options. Eat with a crowd of people, go hungry.

In the end, the choice is made for him.

He startled when his name is called by a group of people, each with similar levels of enthusiasm. Leo, Piper, Jason, and Annabeth — Percy is with his mom this week, Nico recalls — approach him, waving.

“We are flagrantly breaking the rules and eating at Jason’s table,” Piper says, smiling. “Sit with us.”

She says it like an offer, but Nico has a feeling it’s more of a command. He nods, hesitantly falling in step with Annabeth.

(His friendship with her startled him. So many years seething with jealousy, simmering with misplaced hate and pain; only to find out she’s stubborn, like he is, and kinda cagey. She knows what it’s like growing up glancing over your shoulder. They stand the same, shoulders loose but knees locked; and eat the same, like they’ll never see food again. She knows when to let him have his silence. He knows when to let her have her space.)

She nods at him, smiling slightly. Her grey hairs are dyed with pink, today. It clashes horribly with her camp shirt. It suits her.

“Kids do alright today?”

“Yeah.”

“Harley blow anything up?”

“Yeah.”

“Impressive, that one.”

Nico smiles. “Yeah.”

They’re the last ones to the dining pavilion. Most tables are already full, conversations rising and lulling, food disappearing from plates. Several people duck close to their friends as they walk by, whispering. Nico pretends not to notice, pretends not to see Annabeth’s frown.

“Nico! Hey! I was just about to come find ya!”

Tripping in his haste to get up from his table — or maybe over his snickering sister’s extended foot — Will bounds up to meet him, hair flopping into his eyes, grin wide and blinding.

Nico’s palms begin to sweat.

“Will,” he acknowledges, after a beat too long.

Will doesn’t seem to notice.

(Everyone else does.)

“Just wanted to let you know that I was up last night digging through the records, and I found a hymn that’ll fix up your face faster. Not that it needs fixing.” He winks, or maybe tries to. What he really does is blink both eyes, beam so bright it forces smile lines. Nico goes bright red. “So just drop by whenever! I’m not on duty today, but it’s cool, just come find me. Better sooner than later, right?”

He doesn’t wait for Nico’s response, already half turned away by the end of his sentence. “See ya!” he shouts, too loud for the limited size of the dining pavilion, already stumbling back to his table, halfway through a new conversation with Austin. He watches him, amused, indulging.

“So,” says a teasing voice, dragging out the vowel, gleeful. Nico turns to find four identical smirks. “He sounded eager.”

“Nope,” Nico says immediately, turning back the way he came. His face continues to grow exponentially more red, which at this point must be some kind of hazard. “Food is overrated. I’m gonna —”

“Oh, no you don’t,” and then there’s a hand clenched in the back of his jacket, pulling, and four echoing cackles, and he’s dragged over to Jason’s table kicking and hissing. “Time for you to spill.”

———

part three

[enternalempires]

Downfall of a Liar

This is a Lukanette fic. Some fluff, some angst, a lot of salt and Luka being a King of Revenge. You all get to see the more conniving part of our snake boi. Hope you enjoy! Haven’t figured out how to use links yet but my Ao3 username is the same. Basically,  Lila Rossi has gone too far and Luka Couffaine is going to do something about it. He is, after all, a Couffaine… a little chaos never frightened him.

Marinette came to him on a Friday afternoon with sad eyes and tear-stained cheeks. Her knees were bleeding and her wrists were bruised, hair messy and lip busted. Her dress was ruined with an ugly paint smear and her stockings underneath were ripped.

“I fell down the stairs,” She told him, looking away. “I didn’t mean to. I must’ve fallen into some paint.”

Luka didn’t believe this.

The wobble in her voice and the unsteady way she had stumbled right into his chest when she saw him was not the actions of a girl used to her own clumsy feet. Marinette was a strong girl and he knew how much of a burden was placed onto her shoulders. She did not crack easily and she did not do it over being a klutz or smudged paint. She did not cry over repairable things, over broken nails or washable clothes. She did not come to him looking upset and watery-eyed without feeling one step from breaking.

These were things he knew.

So, after calming her down and getting her to take a shower, offering her clean clothes and a warm bed, and letting the girl he fell in love with fall asleep on his chest to the sound of his heartbeat, he did some digging.

He went to his sister first and found out the real story.

Marinette was in the art workshop, Mrs. Bustier having set up a lesson in there during the last hour of the day, with the other members of the band as she helped Nathan and Marc on their story.

She was honestly just being nice— as Jules explained— then the bitch, his sister’s respective name for Lila, sauntered into the room and started to wail about how Mari was only helping the two co-creators because she wanted the credit for their work.

The girl he fell in love with defended herself, and her friends did the same but with most of the Akuma class— excluding the band members and Nathaniel— having fallen for her tails of woe and amazing, yet false, life experiences, they sided with the liar instead of Mari.

Then, throughout the rest of the class, the bitch found ways to terrorize Marinette (going as far and tripping her and cutting her dress with scissors, dropping her paint onto her, pushing her into things, or slamming different objects onto her wrists) and then blame her for getting in the way.

Juleka and Rose had helped Marinette calm down a little as the girl broke into tears as soon as they were away from the rest of the Akuma class but she just kept panicking— and ran away. They didn’t know where she ended up until he texted them and asked.

Then Luka asked for Alya Cesiare’s phone number and made an unsettling discovery.

Marinette and the blogger were no longer best friends.

And, horrifyingly, she had been accused of being a bully, a liar, and a manipulator. Lila painted his melody in the way that everyone should view her instead.

Finally he created a group chat with a few allies he could trust.

He contacted Adrien Agreste (because even if the boy had been painfully oblivious that Marinette had once been in love with him, he would do anything for his lady), Kagami Tsurigi and her girlfriend and spoiled brat, Chloe Bourgeois, the boyfriends Marc and Nate, and then the rest of his band.

He named it ‘The Marinette Protection Squad’ and, just like that, the war was on its way.

*-*-*

Lila Rossi was waiting in the back of the school by herself when Luka arrived. He found her hidden between one of the walls and a thick oak tree and he didn’t bother to hide himself as he crossed the grounds over to her.

She saw him, surprise lighting her features for a second before it shifted into a— what he would guess, if it wasn't on someone so repulsive— a seductive smile.

“Luka!” She squealed, sauntering up to him and stopping a few feet away. “How are you, sweetheart? It’s been forever since we saw each other, since your last year in Lycee, right?”

“I don’t care,” Luka took a step back, face emotionless as he looked down at her. His eyes gave away nothing as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “You’ve made a lot of people angry, Lila.”

“A-Angry?” She stammered, feigning innocence by putting her hands over her heart with too wide of eyes to be real. “Why would they be angry with me?”

“Because you’re a liar and you hurt the people they care about— you hurt the person I care about.”

“Oh,” Lila straightened her back. “You must be talking about my bully.”

“Your bully?” Luka scoffed, less than amused. “Sure, I’ll play along for a minute. Who is your bully.”

“She’s... s-she is Marinette,” The liar sniffles. “And she says such horrible things about me and they’re not true! She pushes me and, and she rips up my homework and she insults me. Whatever you heard isn’t true, I swear!”

“Are you done?” He sighed out, shrugging his shoulders to make them relax more. “You’re a lying bitch, I get it. I’m not here to let you try to sink your claws under my skin, not that it would work, I’m here to warn you.”

“Warn me about what?” Lila asks, voice going a bit nastier than she probably intended.

What a two-faced bitch.

“That you should watch your back,” He says simply, turning slightly to walk back to his house. “You pushed a lot of people into your enemy list by threatening Marinette and now you’re about to face the consequences. It’s only fair to give you a head’s up.”

“Marinette,” she shrieks, “is nothing but a liar and a horrible person—”

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, no matter what anyone says, is the kindest person you will ever meet,” Luka snarled, whirling on the sausage-haired girl so fast that she stumbled back, unprepared. “And I’m hers. You hurt the wrong person, you egocentric bitch, and you’re going to pay for it.”

Lila gaped for a second before she forced an innocent look on her face, mouth opening to say something but the musician just continued, eyes hard and narrowed and angry, mouth drawn into a tight line.

He was a generally calm person, he could handle a lot before ever blowing a fuse. Because he was also a Couffaine at heart. He thrived in chaos where others wither and when it came to those he loved, nothing would stop him from protecting them.

Especially when the one he loved and had to defend was the girl he fell in love with.

“She is thoughtful and compassionate and selfless and astounding in how she will push herself to the knife’s edge just to make sure her loved ones are okay. She is a cinnamon roll but the fiercest ally you could ever have. There is no stopping her, there is no convincing her to step down when she’s standing up for something that’s right— when she’s standing up for someone, unless that someone is herself.”

He took a step closer and, well, that must’ve been pretty intimidating because she scrambled to take one back, causing a humorless chuckle to leave his lips.

He was his mother’s son but he had enough of his father in him to leave others terrified.

“And you want to convince me that just because you have the Akuma class, Mlle. Bustier, and M. Damocles so far up your ass that people will hate her? Really? Let me tell you something, sweetheart," He gave a cruel smirk, voice mocking as he repeated what she called him earlier. “This isn’t you and all your puppets against Marinette, it’s now you against the entire school. You might pretend to rule this place but she is the one who everyone looks up to and loves. She’s their sunshine child and leader and she has connections everywhere. She knows people that could make your life a living hell and it is her kindness alone that has spared you in the past. And you should have cut your losses when you had the chance because I, however, am not as kind. You declared war, Mlle. Rossi, do not be surprised when your downfall comes knocking on your door.”

With that and smirking at the ugly glare on her face, Luka saunters away, whistling a happy tune despite how tightly his fists are clenched inside his pockets.

It’s a week later when they make the first move.

Ivan and Rose, because despite her size she puts up one hell of a fight, are Marinette’s bodyguards during school. They prevent her from getting hurt while Mylene, Marc, and Nate make sure to record anything and everything Lila does that’s incriminating towards her reputation. 

Juleka is on sabotage duty during school to make sure any plans backfire onto the bitch while Adrien is the distraction. Both were excellent at their job. Almost scarily good.

Outside of school Kagami and Luka strategize and come up with plans to make sure anything Lila says can be used against her. They organize groups and make sure that Marinette and her family doesn’t get bothered by Lila or any of her followers.

One by one more people in the school help. Marinette’s friends from different classes going from the highest grade level to the first year students at Lycee all jump in when needed— when they overhear a lie and debunk it by pulling up proof or contacting the people involved directly (Marinette isn’t the only one with contacts).

One by one Lila is getting more isolated, one by one she’s losing her power.

And it’s so satisfying to see that Luka goes to sleep laughing.

It’s not even a full month before the Akuma class had fully left Lila’s side, the last to turn was Alya— the reporter so distraught over how she realized she had been treating her former best friend that she had a mental breakdown.

It was a month on the dot when Honeybee and Ryuko got video footage of Lila snatching one of Hawkmoth’s butterflies from the air with a wide grin and a “What can I do for you today, boss?” and it was a week later when her life got ruined.

(Marinette was so overjoyed that the constant terror— in her civilian— life was going away that she kissed Luka until their lungs ached and, just like that, Luka got revenge and a girlfriend in one sweep.

And that girlfriend was very, very grateful for it too. Most nights he went to bed with bruise-kissed lips and a beautiful girl in his arms. Marinette looked happier than she did in years and all the planning and frustration melted away when he saw her wake up with a smile.

He couldn’t protect her when she was fighting an Akuma but he’s proved more than enough times that he could protect her when she goes back to having two left feet.)

First she got expelled from her Lycee for false accusations, thief, bullying, and cheating. 

Then her lies— ever last one of them— were exposed and her mother was informed about what her daughter was up to and even waved her daughter’s diplomatic immunity— being absolutely disgusted with her daughter’s behavior— when the court cases of people suing her for fraudulence, harassment, threats, attempted murder, and acts of terroism.

Last, but not least, Lila was banned from Paris and all the cases stacked up against her were moved to a different court within France so they wouldn’t even have to see her again.

Though they did see her screaming and shrieking and snarling towards Luka as he joyfully waved at her when the bitch was getting dragged to the back of a cop car, “You! You did this! You made this all happen! I’m going to get you back for this, Couffaine, I swear I’m going to get you!”

She seemed absolutely insane, drool going down her chin from how hard she had been yelling, eyes frantic and face flushed and she jerked like a wild animal trying to get out of her cuffs and the officer’s hands that held her back from attacking the young musician.

He was a Couffaine and this chaos made him delighted to witness.

After all, it’s not everyday you get to see the downfall of the bitch who made the love of your life miserable.

Luka just laughed and sent her a cocky wave, “I look forward to it, sweetheart.”

Well… you can’t say she wasn’t warned.

[eddieeatsass]

I’ll Trade you a Myth for a Kiss

Summary: “Derry’s kissing bridge was a little slice of romance in an otherwise unromantic town. Derry Maine didn’t exactly inspire one’s heart to soar, but something about that bridge caused a fluttering in the hearts of every person that passed it. Richie didn’t believe the myth. He was well past the age where he listened to make believe stories about true love and the promise of forever. Real life didn’t hold such fates, if it did, Richie wouldn’t be a closeted gay kid painfully in love with his straight best friend.” Pairing: Reddie Rating: T

Read on AO3

Derry’s kissing bridge was a little slice of romance in an otherwise unromantic town. Derry Maine didn’t exactly inspire one’s heart to soar, but something about that bridge caused a fluttering in the hearts of every person that passed it.

It wasn’t that the bridge was particularly beautiful, in fact it was pretty ugly with its decaying wood frame, rickety beams that split and splintered any hand that touched them, and sun-faded paint job.

It was the lore attached to the bridge, passed down through the hushed whispers of Derry residents for decades, that lured people into its hold. It was said that if you kissed someone under the bridge, they would be solidified as your soulmate; a metaphorical binding of spirits between two lovers.

Richie didn’t believe the myth. He was well past the age where he listened to make believe stories about true love and the promise of forever. Real life didn’t hold such fates, if it did, Richie wouldn’t be a closeted gay kid painfully in love with his straight best friend.

So, be it the fact that there was no actual evidence to the validity of the tall tale, or the fact that that very bridge had been the location at which his dear friend Ben had almost been murdered by Henry Bowers and his goons, Richie just didn’t have that much faith in the bridge’s supposed positive energy.

Much to Richie’s dismay, however, his cynicism didn’t do much to deter the way his heart rate spiked when he found himself sitting under that very bridge in the company of said best friend.

 They hadn’t planned on ending up here. Their day had started out much like any other; they’d met their friends at the quarry, soaked themselves and their undergarments in the deep jade water before laying out in the sun to dry. Music rang from Beverly’s small portable radio as they shared jokes and stories until the sun began to set.

They’d all gone their separate ways when there’d been no more daylight to suck out of the sun, the presence of fireflies lighting their ways home. Eddie’s bike had been confiscated by Sonia for god knows what number of reasons, so he relied on Richie to be his chauffer for the day.

And chauffer he did. Richie relished in the tight grip of Eddie’s arms around his torso, the way he’d mutter a ‘slow down trashmouth’ against Richie’s neck when he went too fast, or the little yip that he’d let out when they went over a speed bump, soaring weightlessly through the air for one blissful moment before crashing back down to reality.

He’d enjoyed chauffeuring right up until the moment he rode over broken glass, popping his tire and sending him and Eddie tumbling to the ground.

They’d been lucky, veering into grass right before impact, so their injuries were minor. But Eddie still insisted to treat them before they continued home, blabbering on about infections and amputations and- Richie didn’t listen to the rest.

It hadn’t taken long for Richie to recognize exactly where they were. His bike had decided to commit suicide right next to the infamous kissing bridge, which he’d taken home a thousand times and kissed at exactly zero times.

 “Richie.” Eddie repeated, finally garnering the attention of Richie’s quickly waning mind. Eddie waved his small disinfectant pack in the air as if an obvious gesture of irritation.

“Right, sorry Eds!” Richie scurried over to where Eddie had sat himself down on a fallen tree trunk, a miniature pharmacy set out before them all thanks to his fanny pack.

“Let me see your legs.” Eddie instructed, already loaded with a disinfectant wipe and a look of determination on his small features. It was far too cute for Richie to handle, and it made his insides churn uncomfortably. As usual he defaulted to humor, hoping it would ease his nerves.

“That’s what your mom said last night.”

“Richie! Ugh, gross.” Eddie’s nose scrunched up in disgust and Richie’s plan backfired.

With a rosy tint to his cheeks that Richie prayed Eddie couldn’t see in the dark, he sat down beside Eddie and presented him with two freshly scraped kneecaps.

Richie let out a string of curses as Eddie began cleaning the wound, but once the sting of peroxide passed, he noticed how gentle Eddie was being.

“Batman or Mickey Mouse?”

Richie looked up from where Eddie’s hand laid gently upon his knee, meeting round chestnut eyes that reflected the moonlight. Richie’s mind went blank.

“What?” He asked dumbly.

“Bandaids, do you want Batman or Mickey Mouse?”

Richie’s heart did about three backflips before he was finally able to answer, stuttering out a weak response that was not up to par with his usual.

"You know I've always been a Mickey man, myself."

Eddie quirked his lips, not quite a smile but also not the annoyance Richie was usually met with. He watched as Eddie reached into his fanny pack and pulled out a bandaid, unwrapping it carefully before moving to apply it to Richie's left knee. It barely covered the scrape, but they both knew it was for show more than function. Eddie liked knowing he'd taken care of someone, the bandaid standing out like a gold star sticker on a quiz. He nodded to himself, satisfied, before moving to tend to Richie's other knee.

 The process was much the same. It stung when Eddie applied the alcohol, Richie's heart skipped a beat when Eddie got too close, and then there was a distorted Mickey Mouse stating up at the both of them from where it sat over bloodied skin.

Richie spoke before thinking, his mouth always faster than his brain.

"What, no kiss, Dr. K?"

Eddie rolled his eyes, but if Richie wasn't mistaken, he also noted a slight rosiness rising to Eddie's cheeks.

"We're not five, Richie. I'm not gonna kiss your knee better. Also, ew."

"Who said I was talking about my knee?"

They both froze; Richie, horrified by the deception of his own thoughts, and Eddie, shocked by Richie's boldness.

"I-I-I meant my dick." Richie tried to recover, his tone none too convincing. But bless Eddie, whether truly oblivious or just pretending to be, responded by smacking Richie's chest.

It caused Richie to tumble backwards off their makeshift bench, falling into foliage that almost entirely ate him up.

“Oh my god! Richie!” Eddie’s tone shifted into concern, his body moving faster than such a little frame should be able to as he leaned over to offer Richie a hand up. Richie, widely known for acting before he thinks, took the opportunity to pull Eddie down alongside him.

The sound of breaking tree branches, rustled leaves, and tiny shrieks alerted Richie to the fact that Eddie did not land beside him as planned. In fact, a quick glance around him confirmed that Eddie was nowhere near Richie any longer.

“EDS!?” Richie’s voice was high pitched and frantic.

“Down here, asshole.”

The response, though obviously irate, still brought comfort to his beating heart.

“One second- shit- I gotta- fuck-”

Richie was stumbling over himself, squinting his eyes as he tried to see any minute flash of brown hair peeking through the dark. Richie fumbled around in his pocket, grabbing on to the lanyard that held his keys and, thankfully, a small flashlight. It wasn’t much, but it helped illuminate that area where Eddie’s voice called from.

Richie felt horrible when he realized they’d been right next to a hill, and his action had flung Eddie right down it. He spotted a small moving figure right at the bottom, underneath the looming darkness of the bridge, and set off towards it.

Getting down the hill without falling was tricky, but Richie somehow managed it. When he came upon Eddie, the smaller boy was attempting to dust the dirt off from his body. Richie decided not to note how fruitless his effort was, instead allowing Eddie to believe he had some control over the germs he’d been unceremoniously thrown into.

“Sorry about that, Eddie. You’re just so tiny, you weigh next to nothing.” Richie tried to pass off his comment as a joke, hoping it would lead them back into their usual back-and-forth. He’d never actually admit that he loved how tiny Eddie was compared to him, because that would mean admitting a whole slew of other things that he wasn’t ready to face.

“Not everyone can be Andre the giant, you ever-growing fuck. It’s not my fault my body doesn’t want to become a skyscraper.” Eddie countered.

Richie straightened his back, beginning to feign confusion as he aimed the flashlight above Eddie’s head.

“Eddie? Eddie???” Richie pretended to search for him, looking left and right but always above the line of sight where Eddie sat.

“You’re obnoxious.” Eddie stated.

“Eddie? Is that you? Where are ya boy-” Richie’s joke was cut short when Eddie swatted the flashlight out of his hand. It hit the ground with a wet splat, landing in a pile of mud just on the edge of the water.

Richie laughed heartily. He leaned down to pick it up when his gaze followed the stream of light to where it pointed right at an etching in the wooden beam that held the bridge above their heads.

Richie walked closer to it, crouching next to the engraving and tracing it with his finger. In the middle of a heart were two initials: G + H.

“How much you wanna bet that one’s Greta and Henry?”

“A thousand bucks.” Richie huffed, rolling his eyes at the thought of them carving this into the bridge after sharing a cigarette musky lip-lock.

“Good, they deserve each other. They can rot together for eternity. Thank you, magic bridge.” Eddie tapped the pillar gently, as if patting someone’s shoulder.

“Come on, you believe in this crap?” Richie stretched back up to full height.

Eddie seemed to mull the question over in his head before answering.

“I mean… what’s the harm in entertaining the idea?” Eddie’s voice had a bashful tone to it that Richie had never heard before. It made his skin prickle with warmth.

“I just never took you for the romantic type, Eds.” Richie tried to soften his voice, encouraged it to come out a little less like a tease and a little more like a confession. It seemed to have the desired effect when Richie pointed the light at Eddie and noticed a blush on his cheeks.

“Have you kissed anyone down here?” Eddie asked suddenly, the boldness shocking Richie into silence (which was rare).

Richie instinctively puffed his chest out, a bravado thick on his lips and ready to be spoken, but it deflated as quickly as it was triggered. Eddie was being vulnerable with Richie in a way that he never was, and if Richie messed this up, he might as well be damning himself to a future where Eddie didn’t trust him with moments like this. There was no greater fear than that.

“No.” Richie answered honestly, kicking a nearby rock into the water.

“Have you kissed anyone?” Eddie’s voice was barely above a whisper, almost inaudible over the sound of the crickets and the trickle of the stream.

Richie’s heart lurched in his chest so strongly it almost made him lose his balance. His eyes bugged out behind his coke bottle frames, trying to make sense of why Eddie was asking these questions. With a thick swallow, he answered.

“Yeah, only twice.” He knew he’d boasted about much more, that if the losers had been keeping tally, Richie’s supposed trysts were up in the double digits by now. But he didn’t feel like lying or keeping up some kind of charade. Not here, not alone with Eddie. “Once in 7th grade with Trisha Saunders, and then at the beginning of 8th grade with Megan DeLaurence.”

Eddie nodded sagely, looking down at his feet.

“I haven’t kissed anyone yet. I think I might be the last of the Losers who hasn’t.”

The way Eddie’s shoulders slumped made Richie want to reach forward and hold him up. His fingers twitched at the effort it took to hold himself back.

“It’s not a competition, Eddie. No one’s judging you.” Richie said earnestly, taking a step towards Eddie’s frame. Was he shivering? It had gotten kind of cold in the time they’d been standing down here. Richie hadn’t even noticed the nip of September beginning to creep in, he’d been warmed from the flush of being so close to Eddie; something he realized he’d gotten accustom to any time Eddie was around.

“Eds.” Richie sighed, beginning to unbutton the long-sleeved printed shirt he wore over his t-shirt. Once he shrugged it off, he took another step towards Eddie and draped the garment across his shoulders, making sure not to focus on how it dwarfed Eddie’s already miniscule frame.

Richie had abandoned his tiny flashlight, allowing it to dangle from a droopy hand and angle light out into the water. The darkness sheathed them from reading one another’s expressions, giving Richie the false confidence, it took for him to lean in and press his lips against Eddie’s.

The kiss wasn’t long, nor was it filled with passion. It was probably closer to the type of kiss you give your aunt at Christmas, just a chaste peck on the lips. But despite the nature of the kiss, it still left Richie buzzing from head to toe in a way that no other kiss had done before.

Sure, kissing Trisha and Megan had been fine. Richie had chalked it up to experience, telling himself that the reason he hadn’t felt anything was because he wasn’t used to it yet. But with Eddie it was a whole different world. Such a small touch had made him lightheaded, left him itching to go in for more and not stop until his lungs gave out.

Richie realized then that the silence had stretched out between them, Eddie obviously confused and, Richie realized with a pang in his heart, probably horrified.

“T-there.” Richie tripped over his words, cursing his nerves for mistaking him for Bill. He cleared his throat and tried again. “There. Now you’ve kissed someone.”

Eddie still didn’t respond, and Richie’s heartrate began to tick up into something erratic.

After a pause that probably aged Richie ten years, Eddie finally let out a laugh. A small titter that dissolved all the anxiety Richie was harboring.

“You dumbass.” Eddie giggled. “Now we’re stuck together forever!”

Richie couldn’t hold back the grin that stretched his cheeks so wide they burned. If believing that him and Eddie were now solidified as soulmates meant also believing in some invisible universal force carried on for decades by a fucking bridge, then so be it. He’d believe in every fairytale ever told if it meant being with Eddie.

Richie scratched the back of his neck, a nervous twitch he’d had since childhood. He only hoped that Eddie couldn’t see it.

“Yeah, I guess I kinda screwed the pooch on that one huh.”

“I mean, there’s worse people to be stuck with for life.” Eddie countered.

“Well I am honored I’m not the worst.”

“That honor is gonna have to go to Henry.”

“Well, we don’t have to worry about him because he’s already promised to Greta for eternity. We’re clear.”

“Good. He can have Greta as long as I can have you.”

Richie’s brain stopped functioning, all reasonable responses escaping his mind. ‘As long as I can have you’. Richie would be repeating that to himself as a lullaby from now until forever.

“You can have me.” Richie responded on a shaky exhale.

Eddie’s breathing sounded just as unsteady as it filled the space between them. With nervous hands, Richie brought the flashlight back up to illuminate Eddie’s face. He was quivering, although Richie wasn’t certain whether it was still from the cold, or from the same feeling that had caused Richie’s limbs to feel like rubber.

“We gotta get you home before you become an Edsicle.” Richie teased, breaking the tension between them and leading them back into safe territory. Eddie rolled his eyes, but traces of laughter were evident in his small smile. He shouldered Richie out of the way gently, passing him and making his way back over to the hill that he’d fallen down.

“Well, you better help me back up this hill then.” He demanded.

Richie bounded over to him with newfound glee in his heart, vowing to never take the prospect of magic bridges for granted ever again.

[fortune-fool02]

An Unpleasant Surprise

Kakyoin Noriaki x sister reader

Requested by: @juliannasposts

Warnings: angst, character-death

Please enjoy.

Mr Joestar limped out the corridor with Jotaro helping him. Both covered in bandages from the battle against Dio only a day or so ago. The doctors had run their tests and claimed that all of them were allowed to leave. Polnareff stood in the waiting room, a smile lifting his lips at the sight of his two friends. 

After all they had been through, they were the survivors. They had avenged their friends’ deaths and allowed them to rest peacefully knowing that Dio and all his followers could never hurt anyone again. Polnareff’s lips tugged slightly, his heart clenching at the memories of those they had lost. 

Avdol. Iggy. Kakyoin. 

They were good people, they didn’t deserve their horrible fates. He remembered seeing the Speedwagon Foundation people wheel Kakyoin’s body -it was already wrapped in a body bag but he knew it was him- into the back of the ambulance. The Speedwagon Foundation had allowed them to say their final farewell to their friend before taking him away. Polnareff had taken Kakyoin’s earrings before they did. They had made a joke once that if the other died, they would take their earrings as a memory. 

As the trio began to make their way out of the hospital when a young female -no older than about sixteen- entered. For a moment, the trio felt their hearts stop when they saw her. For a second, they didn’t see a girl, they saw Kakyoin. Lavender eyes looking around with a light confusion at the sign as she tried to decipher it. [Hair colour] locks that curled around the right side of her face slightly, not as much as Kakyoin’s did but close enough. 

“Excuse me, misters.” She spoke, her tone polite and sweet, “Do you know if they speak English here? I am looking for someone and I think he might be here.” Polnareff couldn’t move, his eyes still wide as he took in this woman’s, no, girl’s, features; unable to not see Kakyoin in this girl. Mr Joestar was the one to break from the trance and speak, 

“Yeah, they do. Why? Who’re you looking for?” he asked, already fearing the answer to his question but some part of him silently prayed, hoping that she would say another name. Any other name but the one he was afraid of. 

“His name is Kakyoin Noriaki. He’s my older brother.” Jotaro lowered his head, his hat shadowing his face, unable to look at the [Hair colour] female; Polnareff turned away, biting onto is knuckle to swallow the tears threatening to spill at that name. 

This didn’t go unnoticed to her, “You know him? Please, tell me where he is.” Mr Joestar wanted to lie, wanted to tell her that her brother was sitting in a hospital room recovering from an accident they were all involved in. But those [Eye colour] orbs glowed with hope, drying any lie that formed on his tongue. This was never easy, he has seen too many deaths to count and it never got easier to break such horrible news. 

He removed Jotaro’s arm and limped towards her, “What’s your name?” he asked her, noticing the backpack on her back. A cherry keyring hanging from it. So, the love of that red fruit ran through the family? Kakyoin had mentioned his sister a handful of times during their adventure, and he never had a bad word to say about her. In fact, he praised her, telling them of times she was there for him throughout their childhood. How she was the only one who believed him about Hierophant Green. 

To Kakyoin, she was nothing short of an angel. 

“[Name] Noriaki.” He smiled, the kind of smile full of sympathy and comfort, and saw her lavender eyes widen slightly at it. His chest clenched painfully as he took a breath. 

“[Name], you’re brother was a hero.” he said, his words pulled straight from his heart and the experience he had with the red-haired teen, “He was one of the greatest people I have ever had the honour of travelling with and sharing such amazing memories with. I have never met a finer young man as him.” 

As he spoke, he could see [Name]’s face begin to drop. The hope in her eyes dying like a candle’s flame cut off of oxygen, shrivelling down to a dim-glowing ember but trying to ignite itself. Her head shook slightly, disbelief nipping at her face as she heard how he spoke of her brother. 

“I am so, so sorry [Name].” Mr Joestar said, seeing the tears begin to well in her lavender eyes. Her breathing growing shallow. Polnareff dug around in his pocket, pulling out the two cherry earrings and looked at them for a moment. He knew it was wrong to keep them, they were not his to have. He turned to [Name] and took her hand into his, placing them into her palm and closing her fingers around them. 

[Name] opened her hand to see the two earrings that always hung from Kakyoin’s ears for as long as she can remember. She had given them to him for his birthday and he had never taken them off. The tears she battled to keep down broke through, spilling down her cheeks as she looked at the earrings. Her knees giving out from under her if Polnareff didn’t catch her in time. 

Sobs raked her body, shaking her small form like a leaf in a storm as he held onto her, tying his best to comfort her as she cried into his shoulder. 

“K-K-Kakyoin....” she chocked out, the idea of her brother dead was something no sibling should ever think of, let alone be told. Polnareff looked up at Mr Joestar and Jotaro, who both gave [Name] a sympathetic look before crouching down, also trying to comfort her. 

As the scene played, they were oblivious to the ghostly figure who watched this happen. His own sorrow plastering his face as he rested his hand onto his sister’s shoulder though she felt nothing.