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lahyene · 4 years

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A Hollywood Love Story.

Pairing: young!chris evans x reader

Summary: Making it in Hollywood is hard, and when you run into the up and coming Chris Evans at a party, you can’t help but be a little intrigued by the frat boy vibes he practically emanates. You never knew you’d actually fall in love with him while both of you climb the ladder to the top.

Themes: romance, fluff, alcohol, smoking

Word count: 2208

You’re sitting on the kitchen counter, your crop top barely covering your breasts and your shorts practically the size of underwear. As a girl must dress if she’s trying to make it big in Hollywood, being nothing but an Instagram model. Cigarette in your mouth, you take a drag and let the smoke blow out rather close to the face of the man who’s desperately trying to chat you up right now, but you couldn’t care less as your eyes wander the scene of this house party. You’re here to network, to find connections. If you can’t make this work, you’re going to have to move back home and that’s the last thing you want after being exposed to so much freedom.

You saw him the second you walked into this party. He hasn’t quite made it big yet, but he’s probably the most famous one here. Chris Evans. He’s appeared in a few movies, nothing blockbuster, though he’s very well known for his incredibly handsome features and well defined body. You’re sure the two of you have more in common than one would think, being seen more so for your appearance than your personality or talent. People assume you to be trashy and shallow, but they don’t realize that in this world, you have to come off that way in the beginning. No one’s going to wait around to get to know you or the level of depth you have. It’s all about your looks until you finally make it.

When you last saw him, he was on the couch with a girl on either side of him, taking turns making out with each. You’ve heard he’s quite the party boy, dabbling in drugs and alcohol, and practically drowning in female companionship. You thought he was dating Jessica Biel, but seeing his tongue shoved down this blonde’s throat as his hand snakes up the thigh of the brunette, you figure they’re not as committed or exclusive as they let on.

Quite honestly, you’re not interested in him in terms of networking. He isn’t going to do you any favors, he’s probably in a phase where he needs to look out for himself before anyone else. And you completely understand. It’s what Hollywood does to you-- makes you selfish, desperate, twisted. You know there’s a light at the end of the tunnel, but damn, is it a long tunnel.

You’ve barely even realized the male in front of you is still talking. You’re about to shut him down when you see Chris enter the kitchen, without his little playthings, surprisingly enough. The two of you make eye contact. You don’t even have to try; you can already tell he’s intrigued. You aren’t sure whether that’s flattering or concerning. He seems like he’d be intrigued by a hobo, as long as said hobo were to have a vagina. He walks over to you with a gait of confidence, corner of his lips already tugging upwards. He steps in right next to the man, his presence shutting him up.

“Hey there. Haven’t seen you around here before. What’s your name, beautiful?”

You take another drag as you listen to him, your expression barely changing. This time, you turn your head to blow the smoke out before looking to him again. “Y/N.” You tap the cigarette in the ashtray next to you, arching an eyebrow. “And you’re Chris, if I’m not mistaken? It’s nice to meet you.”

“So you already know who I am.” He states, and you’re almost amused by that arrogant twinkle in his eyes. “It’s very nice to meet you too, Y/N.” The male standing next to him finally speaks up in annoyance, “Excuse me, I was in the middle of a conversation with-”

“It’s not a conversation if only one person is talking.” You cut him off, disposing of the cigarette entirely before handing him your empty cup. “Make yourself useful and toss this out for me, would you?” He scoffs incredulously but takes it, grumbling as he walks away. Chris looks at you with a grin, clucking his tongue. “Damn, baby girl. Ice cold. Not that I can blame you, you looked bored as fuck sitting over here.”

“Were you watching me?” you ask innocently, your voice silky as you gaze up at him. His eyes are gorgeous, you have to give him that. His whole face is, really. As much as you’d love to say that he’s overrated, you can’t. He’s handsome, and he knows it. “A little bit, yeah.” He admits shamelessly, glancing back to the spot where he was sitting on the couch, the area slightly visible from where you are in the kitchen. “Those little kittens over there are great and all, but… I dunno. Something about you is more appealing.” He looks back at you and smirks, continuing, “Probably the fact that everything about your beauty is natural.”

He’s right, but you imagine he probably says this to even the most Botox-ed of Hollywood women.

“Thank you.” You practically purr nonetheless with a small smirk. “Wanna step outside with me for a bit? It’s getting kind of hot in here.”

“Sure. Let me grab us a drink too. What do you want?”

“A beer’s fine, thanks.”

His eyes practically light up, his smirk growing wider. “Oh, yeah? Damn, I’ve never met a girl at one of these parties that drinks beer. Always complaining about how it’s going to make them fat or whatever.”

You shrugged nonchalantly as you slid down from the counter, tapping your lightly toned stomach. “Fast metabolism, I guess. Those fruity cocktails and shit have way too much sugar, I’d probably get less sick if I just drank rubbing alcohol. Beer’s good.”

He laughs and you can tell he’s already impressed. You feel strangely good about this. “Alright, sweetheart. I’ll meet you out on the deck.”

____________________

It’s a whirlwind of a romance.

You never thought this would happen to you. You constantly hear about celebrities getting together after knowing each other for ten seconds, getting married after dating for eleven. You’d scoff at the thought. That’s infatuation, not love.

Now as you’re holding Chris’ hand as he uses his other one to shield you from the lights of the paparazzi cameras flashing in your face, you wonder how the hell you got here. Going on dates every week, spending the night at whomever’s place is closest- you’ve even Facetimed his parents a few times, for God’s sake, and you’ve only been dating for three months.

You haven’t told him you love him yet, nor has he told you. You’re not ready for that. He’s clearly still dripping in the residue from his playboy days, and you’ve simply always had a difficult time with… well, emotions.

It’s the main cause behind any arguments you two have. While he still has a very frat boy-esque mentality, he’s also very sensitive to feelings. He’s a romantic at heart; he’s like an open book, and he surprisingly has no problem being vulnerable. You, on the other hand, keep everything bottled up. It’s what you’re used to.

Still, you make it work. You’ve never been in a relationship that feels so serious. Even the arguments only furthermore make it seem real, like you've been dating for years rather than a few months.

The two of you finally approach the gate of the apartment complex, entering as you let out a little breath upon being free from the paparazzi’s clutches. “I don’t know how you deal with this everyday.” You shake your head, barely laughing. “It’s exhausting.” He chuckles and guides you inside, raising a brow. “Well, baby doll, it’s going to be your life pretty soon now that you’ve found yourself an agent- you know that, right?”

You can’t hold back your smile, even though you’ve been strictly telling yourself not to keep your hopes up. “I don’t have one yet, it’s just a meeting. I can’t get too excited!” He scoffs and suddenly grabs your waist, playfully tackling you down onto the couch as you squeal. “Well, I’m going to be excited for you then. C’mon baby, look at you. You’re fucking gorgeous, and you’ve been gaining more and more followers by the second. And the agency reached out to you first to set up a meeting, you didn’t even have to send your headshots in. You know how good of a sign that is?” He playfully starts tickling your sides and you practically shriek in laughter, squirming through your giggles. “Chris!!”

He finally stops and you exhale, breathless but smiling as you reach up and hold his face lightly. “You really think I’ll make it big one day? That I’ll eventually be walking that runway during Paris Fashion Week?”

“Hell yeah I do, cupcake.” He murmurs, leaning down to peck your lips, “And I’m going to be sitting front row at every single fucking show.” You smile, briefly shutting your eyes before opening them again as you trail your fingertips along the stubble of his jawline. “Oh, yeah? What if you forget all about me because you’ll be a big Hollywood star by then? What if you show up front row, sitting next to your girlfriend Megan Fox?” He blinks and laughs deeply, moving his mouth down to kiss at your neck. “Mm… I’d be watching you walk that runway and dump her right then and there to beg for you back, that’s what.” You hum softly in delight as he nibbles on your sensitive skin, his husky voice continuing, “But you know that’s not going to happen, right baby? I can’t imagine doing this whole Hollywood thing without you by my side. You support me so much, and I want to do the same for you. I just… have a really good feeling about this relationship.”

You lightly move his head to look up into his eyes, reading his expression. He looks nothing but genuine.

“Me too.” You whisper, caressing his cheek lightly with your thumb. “I think we’re both gonna make it big one day. And we’ll be doing it together.”

____________________

“He was my first.” You laugh softly as you wipe at your eyes, looking up towards the ceiling of the lavish five star hotel room as if that will stop the tears from returning. “I was only eighteen when we met. Still new to LA, only had a few thousand followers on Instagram. God, why am I crying right now?”

Your friend Taylor hands you a tissue, shaking her head. “It’s okay to cry sometimes, you know. It’s good to have feelings.”

You scoff through the tears, taking the tissue and wiping at your wet eyes. “I just can’t believe everything we’ve gone through. Me becoming an international model, him becoming Captain freakin’ America, adopting a dog together, traveling the world together for his press conferences and my photoshoots, meeting each other’s families…” You sniff, finally letting a tear actually slide down your cheek. “Do you remember when I had to get an appendectomy? And I was so fucking freaked out about the surgery, I had never had one before- but he was there with me the entire time I was recovering. He even told the director of Gifted that he needed a few days off.”

“Yes, Y/N, we remember.” Jasmine sighs, handing you a glass of wine. “Drink up girly, you clearly need it tonight.” Candice raises an eyebrow, questioning, “Hasn’t she drank enough? I think that’s why the crying is happening…”

“And we even talked about having kids together. We just knew we’d make it, you know? That our relationship would last forever. It wasn’t delusional, we knew it.” You sniff, taking the wine nonetheless as you take a sip. “Oh my God, remember when I had that pregnancy scare? And it looked like I’d be having a baby, and I was so nervous to tell him, but when I did he was so fucking ecstatic. Guys, he was so happy. Literally jumping for joy. He told me he wanted nothing more than to have a baby with me, even though we hadn’t planned for one that early.”

“Well, thank God you weren’t actually pregnant,” Meng pipes up, a glass of wine in one hand as she goes to open your closet door with the other. “Because then shopping for this would have been a lot more difficult with a baby bump.” She pulls out the wedding dress, playfully moving it from side to side in front of her body. All the girls immediately laugh, cheering as they raise their glasses. “Hell, yeah! Our girl’s getting married to the love of her life tomorrow!”

You giggle through your tears. Your happy tears, to be exact.

“C’mon, Y/N, stop crying already!” Elsa laughs, shaking your shoulders lightly. “You’re acting like Chris dumped you!” You laugh too, wiping at your eyes. “I can’t help but be a little emotional, okay? God, this is his fault. I never used to be such a crybaby until I met him.” You lift up your glass for another toast as you smile widely. “To the best damn bridesmaids in the world. Thank you for dealing with my sensitive ass during this whole marriage process.”

“Anything for you, soon-to-be Mrs. Evans!”

#chris evans x reader #chris evans fluff #chris evans x you #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fic #writing

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eddieeatsass · 4 years

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Put Your Hand in Mine

Summary: "It had been two years since he'd first kissed Eddie, and Richie was still unequivocally in love with him. He'd deluded himself into believing that his crush on Eddie would fade as time passed, that the memory of those soft lips would stop plaguing his dreams. But it only got worse as they grew, and as Eddie continued to shine brighter than the fucking sun. So sue him, he was head over heels." Pairing: Reddie Rating: T Read on AO3

It had been two years since he'd first kissed Eddie, and Richie was still unequivocally in love with him.

He'd deluded himself into believing that his crush on Eddie would fade as time passed, that the memory of those soft lips would stop plaguing his dreams. But it only got worse as they grew, and as Eddie continued to shine brighter than the fucking sun.

So sue him, he was head over heels.

Eddie seemed as oblivious as ever, and Richie had never been more thankful for anything in his life. Richie could get away with pining as openly as he wanted, and Eddie remained none the wiser.

He'd settled into comfort knowing Eddie was blissfully unaware of the way Richie felt about him. In fact, he preferred it that way. If Eddie found out, they'd have to have a conversation that would undoubtedly lead to Richie dying right there on the spot. So, Richie would much rather just pine from afar and avoid that whole situation.

Eddie's obliviousness is exactly why Richie felt so secure in asking Eddie to the movies that weekend. It had been a while since they'd done something just the two of them, and even though the one on one hangouts caused butterflies to scatter about Richie's stomach, he still longed for the moments he got to savor between just the two of then

Richie sometimes let himself indulge in the delusion that they were doing these things together as a couple, that when they sat together in the dark theater, Richie could reach over and intertwine their fingers. That he could feed him popcorn and then kiss those buttery lips when no one was looking. It was embarrassing really, that Richie would spend their time together pretending it was a date while Eddie simply enjoyed his time with a friend, but Richie allowed himself these small vices.

That vice, however, was a lot harder to reign in when Eddie showed up looking far more put together than what was strictly necessary for the movies. He was wearing a brand-new button down that Richie didn't recognize, and his hair seemed freshly cut. Richie just about lost his ability to function, fighting against everything just to keep from reaching out and grabbing Eddie by the waist, allowing the line between reality and his fantasy to merge.

"Hey Rich!" Eddie greeted him with that sunny smile that made Richie's world spin on its axis. Richie thanked the gods that he was leaning against a wall for support he hadn't realized would come in handy.

"Wow Eds, looking mighty fancy for a showing of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles." Richie commented, hoping he'd been able to school his tone enough not to reveal his current state.

Eddie shrugged, looking down at himself as if to assess Richie's claim.

"I know you're used to wearing the same three shirts on repeat, but normal people actually buy new clothes every once in a while." Eddie teased.

"Touché."

"Got the tickets?" Eddie asked.

Richie's legs stopped threatening to give out beneath him for long enough to push himself off the wall and begin making his way towards the theater entrance. He held up two tickets over his shoulder in response.

"Don't say I never treat ya, kid."

Really, Richie owed Eddie money from the last time they'd gone out, so it wasn't like he was paying for Eddie exactly. If he'd given the money straight to Eddie, it would have gone towards the ticket anyway, but this way Richie got to continue the charade in his head of being the doting date to one Eddie Kaspbrak.

They stopped for popcorn on the way to their theater room. Richie got M&Ms for Eddie because be knew he liked to dump them into the popcorn, and Eddie got an extra water because be knew Richie always got thirsty halfway through the popcorn bag. With their arms full and goofy smiles carrying them down the hall, they made their way to their seats.

Richie had almost digested all the butterflies that had made their home in his stomach. There were still a few that would flutter when Eddie looked at him a certain way, or when their fingers would brush as they passed the popcorn back and forth, but Richie was feeling much more capable of taming his betraying body than he was ten minutes ago.

The previews came and went, lighting up the theater with promises of future movies that Eddie and Richie would dedicate themselves to seeing. Every time Eddie would lean over and whisper a little ‘we need to see that’, Richie’s heart would flutter at the thought of being able to do this all over again.

When the movie finally started, they sank down into their seats and turned their full attention to the screen. It was a welcome distraction for Richie, and he let himself be fully pulled into the show unfolding before them.

It was about 45 minutes into the movie when things changed. Their popcorn had long been finished, the bag sitting empty at their feet, and Richie was on his second water bottle (thank you Eddie). A fight was unfolding on screen, a battle between the ninja turtles and a new villain Richie didn’t recognize from the comics. He was so invested in the story that he almost didn’t realize when Eddie snaked his hand into Richie’s, which laid across their shared armrest with accidental invitation.

Richie jolted in his seat, having to physically hold back from letting out a noise that would probably get them kicked out. His head spun to regard Eddie whose head was still engrossed with whatever was happening in front of them.

Richie’s body felt like it was shutting down, stopping all executive functions in favor of rerouting his energy to the part of his brain that was trying to figure out what the fuck was happening.

The most logical reason Richie was able to come up with was that Eddie was a little shit.

Eddie always berated Richie for taking up the entire arm rest to himself every time they went to the movies, so this was probably his way of teaching Richie a lesson. He could almost hear Eddie’s voice saying ‘Well, I wouldn’t have to do this if somebody had learned the concept of sharing in kindergarten’.

Richie decided then that if Eddie was going to be petty, then so was he. He would hold Eddie’s hand until it got sweaty and unbearable.

It never got sweaty and unbearable. In fact, the longer they held hands, the more Richie sank into the comfort it offered him. By the time the credits were rolling, it felt like second nature. Of course they were holding hands, this was Eddie and Richie loved him and therefore he held his hand.

That’s when the realization hit Richie like a freight train. He’d allowed himself to be consumed by his daydream, convinced himself that they were on a date and Eddie loved him back and unicorns existed.

Richie suddenly felt sick to his stomach.

“I gotta go take a piss.” Richie muttered, shooting up from his seat and speed walking out the door.

His hand tingled, still warm from the heat of Eddie’s. Richie shook it violently as if he could wick off his feelings like water.

Richie took twice as long as he needed to in the washroom, dreading what was to come when he left the safety of his stall. He practiced what he was going to say to Eddie enough times that he was sure the entire male population at the theater had heard him, but he still found himself speechless when he walked out of the bathroom to see Eddie waiting for him.

“Hey.” Eddie smiled encouragingly.

“Hey.” Richie answered, mouth flapping open and shut like a fish out of water.

“So, if you want, uh, we can just forget that ever happened.” Eddie blurted suddenly.

“Do… you want to pretend it never happened?” Richie asked cautiously, trying to read Eddie’s expression.

Eddie took a moment before shaking his head. It was such a small movement Richie might have missed it if he hadn’t been observing Eddie so closely.

“It’s fine, Eds.” Richie continued nervously. “I’m no stranger to taking the joke too far. And now I’ve learned my lesson, I promise to never hog the arm rest ever again.”

Eddie’s face contorted in confusion, causing Richie’s to mimic the same.

“Wait, what are you talking about?”

Richie stared at Eddie calculatingly.

“…What are you talking about?”

“Richie.” Eddie sighed, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. “What is going on in your head right now.”

“Uhhhhh, you held my hand because you wanted the arm rest.” Richie babbled dumbly.

Eddie continued to stare at him, that same amusement now accompanied by a smug little smile.

“And does that make sense?” Eddie’s tone was teasing.

“What other explanation is there?”

“That maybe…” Eddie’s hand reached forward, brushing against Richie’s delicately. “I just wanted to hold your hand.”

“That’s even less logical than my reasoning.” Richie countered with an exhausted huff.

“Why?”

Eddie’s face was completely open, but there was something vulnerable there too. Something Richie hadn’t seen in a long time, not since-

“Eds… are you… gay?” Richie made sure to ask in a hush, leaning closer to Eddie so those around them couldn’t overhear.

Eddie leaned in as well, closing the space between them until there was only a breath between their lips. Flashes of the first time they kissed clouded Richie’s thoughts. Eddie had grown so much since then, filled out into a body that harnessed all his allure in the perfect package. Richie wanted to know what it would be like to kiss him now.

“Are you?” Eddie whispered.

Richie gulped, nodding even though he had a feeling Eddie already knew the answer. In fact, it was seeming more and more likely that Eddie was privy to much more than Richie’d thought he was, and that realization was terrifying.

“Good, I’m glad we have that settled.” Eddie stated in an almost business-like fashion. Richie almost cracked a smile. "Hopefully our second date goes better than this one has."

Richie’s entire face went blank.

"THIS WAS A DATE?!" Richie shouted, earning a shush from Eddie through unrestrained giggles.

"Come on, Rich, I'm not completely oblivious. I knew you were asking me on a non-official-date date. I've known you for years, I know your tells."

"What tells? I have tells!?"

Before Richie could get an answer, Eddie was joining their hands once again, this time dragging Richie behind him towards the theater exit.

"What tells, Eddie?!"

Eddie simply looked over his shoulder, all innocent eyes and bashful smile. He seemed determined to keep his secrets for now, and to Richie's surprise, he didn't care all that much.

Because Richie was holding Eddie's hand, and it was infinitely better than that silly kiss had been all those years ago. This signified something, it was the start of Richie’s fantasies bleeding into reality, tangible in the way Eddie’s hand slotted perfectly into his.

#reddie week 2020 #reddieweek2020 #reddie fanfic #reddie fanfiction #reddie fic #reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #reddie fluff #my writing #my posts

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eberles · 4 years

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Happier

Rafe Cameron

Request: Hiii!! I really love your writing ❤ Can i request a song fic for rafe or drew?? Happier by ed sheeran?? Idk why but I just want my heart to breakkkk.

A/N: omg sis are you trying to break my heart too?? this is more like a blurb, buttt i hope you still like it! it does have the potential to have a part 2 with the way i left it! it can be angsty or fluffy, and i’ll write it if someone gives me another song to base it off of! ☺️ bold = lyrics, italics = flashbacks

walking down 29th and park i saw you in another’s arms only a month we’ve been apart, you look happier

The first time Rafe saw you since the break up you were in the arms of a man he didn’t recognize and you looked happier than you did with him. He saw you walking into a bar and the guy you were with whispered something in your year making you laugh. Rafe could tell your smile was bigger and your laugh was louder and more genuine.

ain’t nobody hurt you like I hurt you, but ain’t nobody love you like I do promise that I will not take it personal, baby, if you’re moving on with someone new

“Rafe, just listen to me, please!” you cried out watching Rafe destroy everything in his bedroom. He just had a disaster of a fight with his father and of course it happened before doing a line of coke.

“Jesus, y/n! Just go home! I don’t fucking want you here!” Rafe turned and started yelling at you. He was never this aggressive with you, but you knew it was the drugs taking over his body.

“You don’t mean that, Rafe.” you tried pleading with him and usually it worked. He would stop throwing stuff and start crying instead and you’d bring him to his bed and hold him all night long. This time wasn’t any different. Everyone thought you were dumb for staying with him as long as you did, but you loved him.

“I need you, y/n.” Rafe would whisper before the crying was too much to handle and he finally fell asleep. Hearing him say those words made him sound so vulnerable, you can’t be another person to let him down.

Recalling the last fight you had before deciding to break up with him. He knows he hurt you, but he also knows that nobody could ever love you like he does.

my friends told me one day i’ll feel it too and until then i’ll smile to hide the truth, but I know I was happier with you

“I can’t believe she moved on already, did I mean nothing to her?” Rafe grumbled, telling Topper and Kelce about seeing you earlier.

“Dude, it’s been a month, you should be over it by now and fucking some other chick.” Topper was quite annoyed with Rafe’s constant need to bring you up in every conversation. “Look, all i’m saying is she moved on and she’s happy, you will feel it again too.”

“I guess for now i’ll just plaster on a fake smile.” Rafe said sarcastically, wishing Topper would just understand. You looked happier, but Rafe was happier with you. That night Rafe sat in the corner of his room, he was nursing an empty bottle and everything was reminding him of you. His pillows and the way you would fluff them before going to bed. His desk chair and the way you would spin until you couldn’t stand up straight. His hairbrush and how you always used to borrow it and leave hair stuck in it. He kept telling himself you were happier now.

The second time Rafe saw you and this time you weren’t accompanied by another man. He wasn’t very superstitious, but he definitely thought this was a sign.

“Hey, Rafe.” you said, very obviously surprised to see him at The Wreck.

“Hi y/n, I just wanted to say you look happier, I knew one day you’d fall for someone new, but if he breaks your heart like lovers do, just know that i’ll be waiting here for you.”

#outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron blurb #drew starkey #outer banks imagine #rc

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plumblossomkun · 5 years

Text

discard[ed]: the origin of MGH.

Word Count: 1.3k

setting: student!Mark & art commissioner!Female Reader

a/n: (inspired by the beautiful vulnerability of my darling friend @starxblossom with her Cherry Wine.) this is, almost word for word, one of the things that happened between me and the boy i thought i loved in my senior year of high school. the fic inspired by this relationship, Mugunghwa, is meant to be realistic, but it is still a romanticization. it’s a result of me seeing said boy after years of not speaking, and i thought to myself, what if? with that being said, please read the warnings. this is not a love story. this is the truth.

warning[s]: alludes to the act of self-harm. descriptions of anxiety and feelings of despair and unrequited love.

Skype Call Transcript, some time in December 2015

B: i was talking to Mark, and uh... he-- he said...

B: jeez, i don’t really wanna say it. *chair creaks in the background*

you: *huffs softly* just tell me. i can handle it.

B: ...fine. *clears throat*

B: he said he didn’t want to be with someone that was emotionally unstable.

you: *very, very softly* oh.

B: yeah....

you: i see. he really said that? *deep inhale*

B: yeah. uh-- are you... mad?

you: no... not mad. *slow exhale*... thanks for telling me.

When Mark walks into Room 13A that Thursday afternoon, you don’t look up from your phone. The hallways are still bustling with students, buzzed for the upcoming weekend, and Winter Ball is tomorrow, so the rest of the committees are trickling in and out, getting their assigned work completed.

You are busy telling your own committee to get their shit together, since none of them are in the room to help you finish making banners advertising the last minute ticket sales.

I should have never volunteered as captain.

For all of these perfectly logical reasons, when Mark leans down and knocks on your desk in greeting, you’re expecting someone else.

Anyone else.

You clear your throat, putting your phone face down on the desk. “Hi.”

He taps the toe of his shoe against the floor, eyes not quite meeting yours, gaze shooting to the desk behind you. You note that his backpack is cinched too tight, and his dark circles are more prominent, like he hasn’t slept well since the last time you’d talked to him-- what had it been, New Year’s Eve? “Hana said you needed help, the other day, doing work.”

“Yes,” you draw out the syllable, watching his fists clench and unclench at his side. Your heartbeat, already beginning to race against your intake of breath, drums a reminder into your chest, of the times his very presence had felt like summer come two seasons too early.

Now, his unsure smile sends ice splintering into your veins. He doesn’t seem to know what words to offer you, to try and mend the strange rift between the two of you, and neither do you.

You pretend the thought hasn’t left you hemorrhaging on the inside, dropping your eyes back to your phone. “You can help color the tearaway for tomorrow’s football game,” you manage to say, pointing him out to the hallway, which is now mostly clear. Your fellow art commissioners are already unfolding their works in progress, refilling the markers with ink, looking for the right music to play.

He nods, and starts to leave-- but pauses at the doorway, looking back at you as he fiddles with the thin silver chain around his neck, holding himself back-- from you.

When was the last time he’d held you?

He greets your fellow art commissioners outside with an enthusiasm he hadn’t reserved for you, and they respond in kind, welcoming him into their fold with laughter.

Sighing, you dig your fingernails into your palms, leaving crescent moon imprints so deep that they bruise. They are not enough for you to forget the breathlessness squeezing your lungs. You shake your head. No, don’t think about him.

Two of your commissioners come back in one last time to return the bottles of ink, waving at you on their way out, and for a long spell, there is silence in 13A, broken only by the mirth outside.

It is the last thing you need, when all you have is the too-loud hum of your heartbeat pulsing through your body, reminding you that it is still beating.

Still feeling.

The door to 13B swings shut behind you, letting in only a sliver of light from the other room. Seeking refuge amongst the mountains of paper and camera equipment in the storage room, you sink onto the ratty old mattress in the corner, and cling to yourself as the world grows small and tight and cold around you.

“I’m strong enough,” you exhale, shuddering, slowly collapsing into yourself until your knees are tucked beneath your chest, trying to fill your head with lies to drown out the siren songs filling your ears. “We can just be friends.”

This doesn’t hurt. This doesn’t hurt. This doesn’t hurt.

You take another breath. This one is a mistake.

Winter rips into you. It starts at your fingertips, then spreads to your hands, leaving you shaking, gasping for air. And though it is like ice has filled your body, stabbing, biting cold, it burns. It scalds your tongue and steals your voice, incinerating your last shred of resistance.

I can’t do this.

I can’t.

You slip a hand into your pocket, running your fingers over the waxen paper hiding there, lying in wait there since that morning, when you’d felt a whisper of frost run down your spine, and took it with you, instead of leaving it at home tucked away in a drawer.

Its paper thin, fragile body betrays the power it holds. And if you didn’t know better, you’d think it was a discarded receipt, a gum wrapper, a piece of scrap. Unfolding the paper, you stare down at the silver lying pristine and keen in the dim light. And when it kisses your skin, the world stills.

One.

Scarlet has never been your favorite color, but how jewel-like the liquid beads and pools.

Two.

The winter spreads from your hands down to your elbows, and you revel in how it finally mutes the ache, puts the pain aside, lifts the weight from your chest.

Three.

In this moment, you can finally breathe.

You go to the bathroom to clean up, so that the white long sleeve you’re wearing doesn’t get stained. On your way out, Mark’s eyes, previously focused on the poster he’d been coloring, close in defeat when he sees you press the paper towel to your wrist, telling him everything he needs to know, and your friends whisper to each other with furrowed brows, not understanding.

You don’t care.

In 13B, you sit back on the mattress and close your eyes.

The door opens with a creak, and shuts even more quietly.

You know exactly who’s come to see you, but you don’t open your eyes until he touches your cheek, his fingers lighter than a butterfly’s kiss.

“Why?” Mark whispers, sinking to his knees in front of you. He picks up your hands in his, and his voice cracks when he repeats the question.

You resent the way his fingers curl and tangle with yours. It makes your heart thrum again, just when you’d gotten it to be quiet and settle down. Why does he make you weak like this?

He places his hand over the already-scabbing lines, and his warmth seeps into them, melting the frost just beneath the skin. You recoil.

The line of his mouth hardens, and suddenly you are in his arms, surrounded by his sweet cologne, so that when he asks you again, “Why?”, and you feel him shaking against you, you can’t deny him.

“I’m fine,” you whisper, unable to stop yourself from clinging to him, despite knowing all too well that the feel of his heartbeat against yours is the curse you’ve been trying to break all this time. “…it’s just the usual problems, at home, you know.”

You hope he never knows he’s the one hurting you.

He pulls back and searches your expression. When you don’t look away fast enough, he sees that you aren’t telling him everything.

And yet he doesn’t press you. Instead, he crushes you to him, and his body shivers against yours. It takes you a moment to realize that he’s crying, warm tears dripping onto your collarbones.

“No, don’t cry--” you sigh, lifting your hands to cup his cheeks. When he leans into your touch, you think that your heart just might shatter into pieces.

I love you.

“Please, don’t do this again,” Mark whispers. To your ears, it sounds like an apology. An apology, for your unspoken confession. “Please.”

So you promise him. You promise him, and not yourself, because you can only spare his heart, not yours. “I won’t.”

He sinks into your embrace, silent tears wetting your shoulder. You close your eyes and swallow the words you can’t say aloud before they choke you.

“I won’t.”

I love you.

#tw: emotional distress #tw: anxiety #tw: mentions of self harm and alludes to self harm #and if you feel strongly about anything i wrote please pop into my inbox :) ♥#stay gold my darlings #i refuse to promote this in any of my regular tags lmao so if you read this thank you

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jae-in-a-trenchcoat · 5 years

Text

IT fic exchange

Here’s my fic for @notafightr who did an amazing fic for me! It was so good I feel bad giving them this piece of garbage

No warnings

Richie was never one for being able to express his feelings. It didn't matter if it was how he was feeling about a situation or how he felt about a person, it was just so hard for Richie to let people know how he was really feeling. Weirdly it didn't come from the environment he grew up in, it developed from Richie as a kid wanting his friends to see him as a tough man (even though he was only 7 when this began). Richie bottling up his feelings led to him being unable to read the mood of a situation and making stupid jokes basically 24/7. So when he started to grow up and find himself developing a crush on his best friend Eddie Kaspbrak, life became more complicated for Richie. What made it worse is that at the ripe old age of 16, while Richie waited for Maggie (his mom) to pick him up, Eddie fucking Kaspbrak was standing next to him asking a question never expected to come out of the smaller boy's mouth.

"Will you be my fake boyfriend?" Eddie asked out of the blue on this slightly cold day. Richie, who was leaning against the bike rack, felt his hand slip off the metal pole and he nearly fell face first on the ground. Luckily he was able to catch himself before letting that end in disaster. Eddie tried to stifle back his laughter as the taller boy tried to recover.

"I'm sorry what?" Richie choked out. Eddie bit his lip.

"Will you be my fake boyfriend," he repeated, softer than the first time. Even after saying it twice, Richie was unable to comprehend what Eddie was saying. His crush, his love of his life, was asking him to fake date him? Richie didn't need to ask why. It was to make Eddie's crush jealous. His name was Jake: he had the brightest green eyes that were hard not to get lost in, auburn hair, he was apart of the debate team and he was WAY too nice. Richie knew he could never compete and, even though it kinda hurt him, he just let Eddie try and go after Jake.

"Eds I don't know that seems more stupid than your mom," Richie snorted. Eddie stared at him with with his big adorable eyes.

"I'm being serious ‘Chee," Eddie said. "I-I wanna do this." He took both of Richie's hands into his. Richie felt his cheeks heat up. He could barely feel his body . This was a hard decision to make but it didn't look like Eddie was gonna give him time to decide. Richie would never admit that this would hurt him, even if he wanted to it would come out as jumbled and not clear.

If I do this I'd be able to spend more time with him though. He pulled his own hands away from Eddie's.

"I guess I could, but don't go developing feelings for me spaghetti man." Eddie let out a little laugh.

"Keep holding your breath trashmouth." The two shared a chuckle before Richie noticed his mom's car pulling up.

"Gotta go Eds, see ya tomorrow!" He exclaimed with a salute, before starting to move towards his mom's car. RIchie swung open the car door open and climbed into the passenger seat, accidentally knocking Maggie's coffee out of the cup holder in the process.

"C'mon Richard you've got to stop knocking over my coffee whenever you get into the car," she sighed.

"Sorry ma." Maggie shook her head with a smile. As Richie turned around to sit properly into the seat, he caught a glimpse of Eddie biting his lip but thought that he was just trying to stop himself from yelling 'Don't call me Eds!"

Bev tugged at the elastic band around her wrist, fuming.

"Son of a bitch," Bev muttered under her breath as she aggressively picked up the fake money and basically threw it across the coffee table. Opposite her was Stan who couldn't help but let a smirk form on his lips.

"Well sorry for properly investing my money instead of just buying random shit," he said with some sass. She rolled her eyes, annoyed with Stan's smart ass.

"It's monopoly Stan, not real life," she snapped back. Grabbing the dice Bev got ready to roll, until the front door flew open with so much force it could've come off its hinges. Richie stood there panting and out of breath.

"Guys, guys I've got a massive problem," he managed to get out between heavy breaths. The dice took a detour and rolled off the table and under the couch. Bev turned and gave Richie a death glare.

"Whatever it is, it better be fucking important," she growled. Richie averted his gaze to Stan, mouthing a 'what is going on with her?'. He mouthed back 'monopoly' before looking back at an angry Bev. Richie understood completely, it was basically what happened every Friday. The three went to Bev's aunt's house every Friday after school and played some board game lying around, Richie always got dropped off late and (almost) always walked into Stan whooping Bev at the board game chosen and Bev being a sore loser. Today though, he didn't feel like playing Monopoly. All he wanted to do was (try to) let out everything he was feeling about this whole 'fake dating situation', not play some stupid board game. Richie flopped onto the armchair dramatically with a loud sigh, his long legs dangling over the arm of the chair

"Well Richard what is so important you had to interrupt our game?" Stan asked. Richie adjusted himself so that he was sitting upright, though he found the other position much more comfortable.

“Well here it is Stan the man,” Richie began. As he explained his dilemma, the two listened carefully. Richie found he was the most comfortable telling Stan and Beverly his problems no matter how uneasy his insides felt. They were a trio that helped each other out. The three musketeers Richie would call the trio, even if Stan hated it with every bone in his body.

“Well how do you feel about the situation?” Stan asked. Richie opened his mouth to speak, then quickly snapping it shut. He tried finding the right words to say, any words at that point, but his mind was as blank as his page while writing an essay. C’mon it isn’t that hard Richie, for fucks sake say something! Nothing came out except a long stuttered mess of a sentence. Bev gestured for the raven haired boy to scoot over as best he could. As he did, she squeezed into the tight space and swung an arm around Richie’s shoulders. He turned his head so that he could see Bev’s much softer expression.

“Hey, hey it’s okay, we know how hard it is for you to talk about this sort of stuff,” Bev reassured. She then turned her head to face Stan. “Don’t we Stanley?” Stan threw his hands up in defence.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise you were my mother.” Richie watched as they bickered back and forth and let out an inaudible sigh of relief. It gave him the comfort of knowing that there was at least something was still normal and not messed up. Richie pushed himself off the armchair, causing Bev to fall to her side.

“Red, Stan the man, please save that for the ring,” he said with a presenter voice. Bev rolled her eyes at the stupid nickname.

“Shut up Richie,” Stan groaned. Richie snickered at their reactions. He knew he’d have to enjoy today because he had a feeling that after today, everything was going to be different and it would never go back to being the same. Ever. He helped Bev get the dice from under the couch with his long, lanky arms and sat down around the coffee table, deciding to let his two friends finish their game before joining in. The game didn’t last very long, Bev went bankrupt in 10 minutes and, although Stan just sat there with a small smirk, it was clear to Richie that he was enjoying his win against Bev very much. He had known Stan for so long and knew how to read basically every facial expression of his. Bev angrily cleaned the board so that they could play another game. As the new game progressed, Richie felt his heart slowly sink to the bottom of his chest.

This is it, this is my last day before my world turns to hell.

Derry High’s hallway bustled with teenagers as they all tried to get from one place to another, either to their locker, friends or next class. Richie used all his might his lanky body had to push through the crowd.

“ Please, ‘scuse me, coming through trynna find my Eddie spaghetti!” Richie shouted over the noise. People gave him looks of confusion and but he didn’t care. He finally saw the short, adorable boy leaning against his locker, foot impatiently tapping against the floor. Richie’s breath hitched. He was wearing a pale blue sweater that was definitely a bit large and those damn red shorts. Richie shook away his feelings before putting on a goofy smile and striding towards Eddie.

“Heyo Spaghetti-o,” Richie leaned against the locker next to Eddie. The smaller boy let out an exaggerated sigh of relief.

“Thank fuck! I thought you weren’t gonna show,” Eddie punched Richie’s arm harshly. Not enough that it would bruise but enough for it to hurt. He rubbed his arm and gave Eddie a fake pout.

“Of course I would, you didn’t have to punch me so hard for being-,” He quickly checked his watch. “2 minutes late.” Eddie lowered his head.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. It was as if something punched Richie in the heart. Something about seeing Eddie look so vulnerable did something that, really, no one else could do. Make him feel like his world had been shattered into a million piece. He gently grabbed Eddie’s chin with his forefinger and thumb and lifted it gently. Looking into his deep brown eyes made it hard to focus on anything else going on around him. He could tell that Eddie felt the same way, except Richie brushed it off as Eddie trying to make their relationship believable. Both their breathing started to become like small pants.

“No need to apologise,” Richie breathed. In the corner of his eye, he saw Jake staring curiously at them. Richie took this as a perfect opportunity to make a move and help Eddie achieve his goal. He swiftly pecked Eddie’s surprisingly soft lips. His body tingled with warmth. The feeling was hard to describe but Richie knew it was a good one. Eddie stared at Richie with wide eyes and red cheeks, redder than Richie had ever seen them before. For a second he thought he had made a mistake from the look on the shorter one’s face.

“I-I’m so sorry Eds I just saw Jake and-,” he was cut off when he was pulled into a much deeper kiss. Richie’s hands snaked around Eddie’s waist and he pulled him closer. Neither of them cared that there was a crowd, neither of them really realised there was a crowd. Richie didn’t want the moment to end. Unfortunately he had to pull away for air. His eyes darted up and down Eddie’s body, which was shaking slightly from adrenaline. The crowd of students stood there for a second staring before quickly dispersed and revealing the rest of the losers standing there.

“So, you two finally got together?” Mike asked.

I guess Eddie didn’t tell the others we were fake dating

He looked at his ‘boyfriend’ to see if Eddie wanted to say anything. He vigorously shook his head no. Richie was a little hurt that he didn’t want to tell their closest friends but he wasn’t going to show that.

“Right you are Mike-o,” Richie nodded. After a bunch of congratulations and a few pats on the back (mostly from Mike), Bev sent Richie a look. It was a look of ‘don’t fuck this up or everything will be ruined.’ Richie nodded his head slightly so that only she could see. He turned around to ask Eddie a question but he was gone. He glanced around and caught him talking, more like laughing, with Jake. Richie knew this was fake, knew he shouldn’t fall for Eddie more, but seeing him with the person that started this really crushed him. Something washed over Richie that caused his brain to basically shut down. Without realising he was already behind Eddie, arms wrapped around his waist and head nuzzled into his neck. Jake ran a hair through his hair and smiled.

“Sorry didn’t mean to take you away from your boyfriend,” Jake chuckled. “I’ll see you around Eds.” The aurburn walked off down the hallway, leaving the two.

“Bye Jake!” Eddie called out, giving a little wave. Jake turned around with a charming smile and a wave too. He let out a love filled sigh, then escaped Richie’s grasp and looked at him with rage in his eyes.

“‘Chee I was making progress!” he groaned.

“Sorry it’s just-,”

“Just what? What Chee?”

“I wanted to make our relationship believable.” Richie would’ve confessed his love for Eddie right there but he bit his tongue and held back.

“Well thanks I guess,” Eddie sighed. “I gotta get to class.” He stood on his tippy toes and kissed Richie on the cheek. Walking off, Richie was stuck there alone. He knew he’d fucked up. Literally doing the opposite that Bev ‘told’ him not to do.

2 months had passed and Richie couldn’t be more crushed inside. It was like the universe was teasing him. Every passing day spent with Eddie was torture. They were growing closer as friends, Eddie would say. They held hands everywhere they went, small little kisses, passionate ones too. while they were out in public and the smaller boy started sitting in the taller boy’s lap either at lunch or when they went to the diner. He hadn’t told anyone, but he was falling for Eddie harder than if he were to fall off a building. Jake had started warming up to Eddie though and Richie knew that their fake relationship would be ending soon, as the brunette had planned how they were gonna break up. Yet he didn’t want that to come. He couldn’t tell anyone what he was feeling, either he’d mess up his words or everyone would tell him that he shouldn’t have agreed if he knew he liked Eddie. Eddie eventually told the rest of the losers, a little angry that Richie didn’t tell him that Stan and Bev already knew but all anger washed away when he gave Eddie an apology kiss. Richie had woken up that day with a knot in his stomach. He had almost forgotten about the losers sleeping over that night, that is until he rolled out of bed and accidentally stepped on Stan’s hair. His shriek woke up all the other losers. The knot in his stomach quickly disappeared. Richie noticed that neither Bill nor Eddie were in the room.

“Where’s Big Bill and Eds?” Richie questioned. Stan sat up, rubbing his scalp to try and stop the stinging.

“I thought my boyfriend told you to stop calling him Big Bill.” Stan grunted. Richie shrugged with a smirk.

“I think they went to the kitchen,” Ben said groggily, pulling Bev a little closer to his chest in the sleeping bag.

“Thanks haystack!” Richie did some finger guns before making his way out his bedroom door. He let his legs take in control as he descended down the stairs, the sick feeling slowly coming back to him. Richie heard soft voices coming from the kitchen and immediately recognised them as Bill and Eddie’s. As he approached the kitchen door, he stopped right in his tracks when he heard Eddie say something never thought possible.

“I think I actually like him.” It was muffled but Richie heard it loud and clear. As quiet as possible, he scurried to the door and held his ear to it.

“T-t-trashmouth?”

“No Bill, another Richie. Yes Trashmouth!”

“W-w-what about J-J-Jake?” He heard the clink of a mug hitting the bench.

“I guess I didn’t really like Jake. You know I had a crush on Richie in 7th grade and spending all that time with him I realised that I still like him.” There was a brief silence. “Scratch that, I love him.” Richie’s body nearly turned to jelly.

Eddie just said he loves me.

The door started to creak open slowly and by the time he realised, it was too late. He fell onto the floor face first. He groaned both in pain and embarrassment. Eddie squealed.

“Chee! What are you doing here? How much did you hear? Are you okay?” Eddie asked in a panic. Bill leapt off the counter and quickly rushed to his side to help him up, Eddie staying on the counter. Richie stoop up and dusted off the non existent dirt on him.

“I’m fine,” Richie reassured. “Just a little tumble was all.” Richie took a couple of steps forward so that he was next to the island bench. No one in the room dared to make a sound, it’s as if someone who made a noise would ruin the moment. Richie took more steps forward until he was in front of Eddie. He stood there for a second, just taking in the way the brunette looked so cute just sitting on the bench. Richie felt his heart beat faster at the sight. He leaned in and smashed their lips together. Eddie immediately leaned into the kiss, enjoying how this kiss really meant something and it wasn’t just for show. Richie pulled away painfully slow.

“I’m guessing you heard a lot,” Eddie said sheepishly. He rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“Look, I’m not good at-at feelings basically so this is hard for me to say. I love you, I have ever since we met in grade school. I guess I never had the courage to tell you how I was really feeling and I regretted it so much because knowing you liked someone who wasn’t me, well it really hurt. Just the thought of losing you to Jake even if we weren’t together, made me get all weird and caused a lot of mixed emotions. I guess what I’m trying to say is I wanna be with you, I wanna be your actual boyfriend. Only if you wanna-.”

“Shut up trashmouth.” Eddie pulled Richie into another kiss, giving him the answer he wanted. Their lips stayed connected until Bill cleared his throat.

“G-get a room,” Bill laughed. Richie chuckled before pulling his now real boyfriend in for another kiss.

Not how I expected to start my morning. Definitely much better though.

Sorry that I didn’t do a better job but I hope you like it 🙂

#it 2017 #reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #stenbrough #stanley uris #bill denbrough #benverly #ben hanscom #beverly marsh #mike hanlon #original character #losers club #it 2019 #fic exchange #it chapter 2

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the-settingsun · 5 years

Text

We're all gonna die - Edward Nygma x reader. Songfic

Please listen to the song as you read.

Quick songfic about my dear Eddie. Because he needs to be protected. My precisious baby boy. Feel free to request and give feedback I'd appreciate it. Also I dont proofread so point out any mistakes to me.

Gif credit to the owner.

Warnings : Blood, mentions of abuse, injuries.

The evil it spread like a fever ahead

,,What can be lost but never found?" Your boyfriend yelled at you while he took another bottle of alcohol and drank it in one go. The thunder encouraged him to put down the bottle on the small wooden table beside the window. He slowly started approaching you, you were expecting him to insult you again and his words schocked you. He wiped his nose with his hand and smirked ,,Do you like riddles?" He fake frowned ,,Or just the riddle man?". You froze, he found out about Eddie. Only man who treat you right. The GCPD was a pretty small after all. You knew what was this man infront of you capable of. ,,Please dont hurt him" you whispered looking down at your bare legs. ,,Honey, you know its for your own good" he purred into your ear. ,, Please stop" you said as quietly as possible. There was no point in fighting him, he always got what he wanted.

It was night when you died, my firefly.

After he was done with you he left like always. Broken glass, broken furniture and broken bones.

You didnt feel anything, your body wasnt yours anymore, your mind was black. But oh the floor the cold floor that make your skin crawl. Was is the floor or the blood? No one can tell. Cold, as the raging storm outside. The thunders couldnt be heard anymore but the lightning helped you see, always for a split second.

What could I have said to raise you from the dead?

Oh could I be the sky on the Fourth of July?

As you watched the same picture appear before you for hours you gave up. The pain was not worth it. It was time to move on, past the small ligh provided by your eyes that got already used to the dark. You were ready to see the light. It was silence, you cried softly as you slowly pulled your hand from the wound caused by the glass shards.With the very last strenght you had you managed to reach broken table, with one leg missing. Your whole body weight was now relying on it. The crimson shined for a brief moment, another lightning. You fell again getting tiny pieces of wood stuck in your already bloody arm. The pain kicked in as you tried to reach the phone. Every step you took was followed by lightning, displaying the silluettes of broken window on the floor beneath your feet. You reached the phone and pushed yourself against the wall. Looking at your wound and bloody hands putting pressure on it. You sensed you had last few moment infrotn of you. And so you dialed the number

Edward Nygma

1234567891011

Call

Text

Well you do enough talk

The moment you heard the dial tone you broke down. There was so much you didnt do in life, you wanted to

tell Edward everything, have amazing dates, help your daughter with her boyfriends, cry during your son's wedding. But now it was all gone in the clouds. ,, Hello this is Ed.Im sorry I cant currently talk leave a message" you put the phone down on the ground anf sighted.

My little hawk, why do you cry?

,Ed? Are you th-there?" Your lips slowly moved ,, (Y/N) is that you? Whats wrong? Where are you? Are you hurt" Ed spoke quickly through the screen. ,,Im home, I dont have much time, I-I-I think I-I'll die Ed. Im afraid" you heard him curse quietly,the some rumbling and door opening. Meanwhile you tried to adjust your position but your hand couldnt support you. So you sat there against cabinet slowly bleeding, looking at the ceiling above, clutching your stomach. You couldnt make out anything from the call except : Jim, help and Ed's panicking voice ,,(Y/N) talk to me please)"

Tell me what did you learn from the Tillamook burn?

Or the Fourth of July?

You glanced at the clock, it was past midnight. ,,Ed can you believe it? I made it to another day" you chuckled and hissed in pain right after. ,,(Y/N) please hang on, Im coming, the ambulance is coming, you are gonna make it" This time it wasnt his typical panic voice. Ed was crying. You blinked and more tears fell down on you sleeves.

,,Ed, Im sorry"

We're all gonna die

You heard him sight,,No, (Y/N) there is nothing to be sorry for. Its all my fault" he said and his voice broke ,,I should have seen it, I should have protected you" he let out a sob and began crying and sobbin more. ,,Eddie? I-I, you're right I should have told someone. But please dont blame yourself. Dont" you whined and put your hand over your mouth. You focused so much on your sobs you couldnt hear Ed. ,,-I cant lose you (Y/N), you are the only one that ever accepted me" he went silent. Or was it you?

Sitting at the bed with the halo at your head

Was it all a disguise, like Junior High

Where everything was fiction, future, and prediction

Now, where am I?

My fading supply

It was all too much, everything too fast and too slow at the same time.

Your cries overpowered the sound of now returned thunders as you heard cars going by below your window. ,,It hurts" you screamed in pain as you moved your arn away to overlook the injury again. ,,We're almost there (Y/N) just hold on."

,,Did you actually mean it?" Once again you asked but now with smile on your face. ,,Or is it just faded memory?" Remembering events of last weekend when you two attended police ball, he pretended to be your ,,scary" boyfriend infront of bunch of arrogant officers. Ed cleared his throath and gulped

,, The ball?" there was silence. You knew you couldnt stand up so you carefully started sliding yourself closer to the floor. ,,I did, you (Y/N) are the most beautiful, trustworthy and inteligent person I know" you stopped, only youd neck was now againt the cabinet. ,,Funny I thought you were just bluffing"

Did you get enough love, my little dove

Why do you cry?

,,What happened (Y/N) I thought you two were happy" you went silent letting the thunder be answer. You used your free habd to push yourself away from the cabinet. Now you were just laying there ,,I thought so too Ed. I loved him I did. I told myself" he kept silent you presumed he was close. Despite thunders you heard a train on the other line. The train station. He wasn't gonna make it. There wasnt enough time for him to hold you in his arms. ,,I love you Ed" you whispered loud enough for it to be heard. He took a deep breath. You messed up, but he deserves to know.

,,I love you so much (Y/N), now you cant leave here alone. I-I cant make it withouth you"

And I'm sorry I left, but it was for the best

Though it never felt right

My little Versailles

,,Isnt it funny? I was always too scred to tell you and now" you coughed and gasped for air ,,we cant be together anyways. Maybe we could be another tragic pair of lovers like in the books" you softly laughted before you strated coughing again. It was blood, but at your state there wasnt place around there wasnt blood. ,,(Y/N) It was me who bought you the flowers not officer-" you stopped him ,,I always knew, the wws this little voice in my head that i-i-it was y-you." You winced as breathed. Last minutes.

The hospital asked should the body be cast

Before I say goodbye, my star in the sky

Such a funny thought to wrap you up in cloth

Do you find it all right, my dragonfly?

,, Eddie, we both know how is it going to end. I just do-do-ont want you to blame yourse-lf" you both inhales sharply. You because speaking makes you weaker and Ed because he was having a war with himself right now.,,No" you were silent. ,,No, there will not be anything I'd have to regret!" He yelled and cried at the same time. Poor Eddie, you knew how vulnerable he was. ,,If I die" I dont want you to visit me. ,, I wouldnt want you to dwell on the past. I'll be a dead end. Literally" you giggled a little before Ed screamed through the phone ,,FOR GODS SAKE (Y/N) YOU ARE DYING. STOP JOKING ABOUT IT."

,,Sorry, sorry. I am serious. Do-Do not attend my funereal, dont bring me flowers, dont get involved in the case." whispering you wiped your tears for the first time.

,,Why (Y/N)? So am I supposed to forget about you? If you are telling truth and you do love which I certainly hope you do. You are the love of my life (Y/N)." Once again the muffled cried from the other side of the phone were drown out by the now stronger storm. ,,Because I would break you"

Shall we look at the moon, my little loon

Why do you cry?

,,Tell me a-a-a ridd-d-riddle Edd-Eddi-Ed" you sighted as you felt your breath slowing down every minute. ,,What are the three words that are said too much, but not enough"

,,I love you"

,,So do I"

Silence.

Make the most of your life, while it is rife

,,H-H-El-Hell-Hello?" You coughed so hard your head raised from the ground only to fall back there.

,, Im here (Y/N), Jim is here. You are here. Im not losing you now."

He hanged up.

While it is light

The front door opened and the lights turned off. It shocked your body and you gasped. A figure was kneeling next to you. It was Edward Nygma. The one you loved.

Well you do enough talk

,,I wanted to grow old with you

(Y/N). I still want to. Dont.leave.me" Ed held you tighter and put his hand on your cheek and as he slowly sobbed. Hie glasses were wet from his tears and rain. He was a shaking mess. You looked into his eyes. And smiled.

My little hawk, why do you cry?

Tell me what did you learn from the Tillamook burn?

Or the Fourth of July?

We're all gonna die

You lifted up the hanf that was on your wound. Ed quickly put it back, applying the pressuee back. Being confused and still pouring his soul out through tears. You sturggled and released yourself from his grip. You hand was now cupping his cheek. With every little strenght you had you barely leaned forward and pecked edwards lips he was just starring at you, knowing its the end. With that, he pressed you towards him harder and frantically held you thinking you could disappear in every second. With that the ambulance arrived and...

We're all gonna die

Name : (Y/N) (L/N)

Date of death : 4th of july

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hofftrans · 5 years

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I finally uploaded that uncle joey uncle jesse full house fic, it has some filthy language so soz for that

The day had taken a hard turn into the bizarre. That morning they had helped Danny save his show with an elephant costume and a banjo, they taught Dj and Stephanie a lesson about the importance of recycling (usual Tanner Family stuff). But the part where Jesse had invited Joey out to a bar after it to ‘relax’, just have some quality man time? And how they’d had one too many drinks, become too comfortable and shared a ‘funny’ drunk kiss in the parking lot? That was not normal Tanner. This was bizarr-o world where Jesse Tanner now had him pressed up against a hotel door with Joey’s tongue down his throat. He reaches down and slides Joey’s key card out of his jeans pocket, fumbling to hit it against the sensor without having to break skin contact.

The card beeps and Joey realises being pinned against the hotel door is the worst place to be. The door pops open and Joey stumbles hard, knocking a standing lamp to the fuzzy motel carpet. They both give it a brief giggle before Jesse is on Joey’s neck again, wet frantic lips searching everywhere. There’s a tiny patch of stubble in the dip of Joey’s jaw and neck and Jesse sees it as art, obsesses over it with his teeth and tongue. Joey feels like there’s too much air in his head, like Pop Eye on Spinach with Olive’s hands riding up his shirt.

Joey realises he can’t do much to reciprocate from this position, standing and pawing at Jesse like an awkward virgin. He wasn’t a virgin, well, not with women. It shouldn’t be too different, right? I mean, Jesse is less soft than most girls Joey’s been lucky enough to bring home, more hard angles and hair gel than soft curves and giggles. Or maybe Jesse did giggle. Fuck, Jesse is there in front of him, touching him and Joey’s wasting time trying to rewrite the birds and the bees. It’s San Francisco. They’re drunk. They are in a shitty motel room. Joey’s pretty sure the gay sex just happens holistically now.

Still, he realises it might be a little more romantic with a bed involved and he backs Jesse to the bed with him with three awkward steps, grabbing his hand pulling him down with his weight. They knock heads when they land and the springs poke into Joey’s back but it’s intimately clumsy and they chuckle softly as they kiss, nipping lips and bumping noses together.

Part of Joey wishes he were sober for the first time, most likely the only time this would happen. But this was also so impulsive and hazy and wonderful, slightly fantastical. Jesse is straddling him, shirt and vest hanging open, sweating and panting. His pupils are blown and the neon lights filtering in through the window shine in them, make him look like a wild thing. Joey didn’t study anything fancy in college but Jesse looks like pure art straddling him and Joey needs to touch. He runs his wide hands up Jesse’s taught stomach, runs his thumbs idly through his happy trail as he creeps up. He feels each dip and edge of Jesse’s abdomen, traces a finger between his pectorals and then splays his hands out. Nipples. Okay, this is familiar sex territory. A little more flat, but he knows roughly what to do. He scrapes his nail lightly across Jesse’s left nipple, saves the little gasp Jesse lets out to memory, then rolls the tiny nub between his forefinger and thumb. Jesse shudders, rocks forward, and Joey short circuits at the friction. God, he could see how much Jesse loved the performance, loved the attention and it was making him rock hard. Every time Jesse drops his head back and groans Joey’s heart skips a beat, and he’s so caught up in how perfect he feels that he has to ask Jesse to repeat himself when he whispers hotly in his ear. “I said,” Jesse panted, “Have you ever done this before? Do you know what to do?”

So maybe the sex ed memories were more important than he thought. He didn’t know what to do. Not really. Like he knew what went where, but what he didn’t know was how to not to make it hurt for Jesse. How he should get someone ready. He wasn’t sure who was meant to take who, but he was getting a stronger and stronger idea that Jesse was a bit of a taker and Joey could count his gay experiences on one hand (and uncomfortable game of spin the bottle in college which ended in a very tight lipped kiss from a very awkward Danny). What was expected of him here? Were there social faux pas to gay sex? Would Jesse be offended if Joey asked him to use protection? Did either of them even have protection?

Apparently Jesse notices him spiralling into panic. He lifts one hand to Joey’s face, refocuses him, trace reassuring lines along his cheekbone.

“Cool the jets, scaredy cat. I aint judging. I just wanted to know how much to show you.”

Joey breathes out a sigh of relief. Then a low groan as Jesse grinds out long and hard against his groin. He centers his hands on Jesse’s hips and looks up into his eyes, lets himself be vulnerable. Jesse is his best friend. More than that now. And the last thing he wants to do is hurt this beautiful man.

“How do I… How do I make this not hurt for you?” Joey lets out earnestly, quietly and a hot shiver runs up from the base of Jesse’s spine. He lets out a small, hot whine and chuckles before responding.

“You big… sweet idiot. Of course that’s the part that’s scaring you. Don’t worry, I won’t leave you stranded here.” Jesse slips off Joey’s lap, making his panic high jump for a moment until Jesse hits him with a look that he’s pretty sure could impregnate. Jesse shrugs the rest of his shirt off and walks over to his overnight bag resting on the nightstand. He pulls out a small travel bottle of lube and a condom in one hand, and starts undoing his pants with the other.

“Just make sure to listen and I’ll show you the rest.”

Joey can barely mutter out a have mercy before Jesse is beside him on the bed in his underwear, sliding Joey’s pants off him. Joey takes the opportunity to reach over, grabbing an experimental handful of Jesse’s firm ass and getting a moan and smile in response. Hint taken. He slides a hand in under the material and traces his fingers down the cleft, watching Jesse’s face like a hawk for feedback. Before his fingers can explore any further Jesse stops him gently, leads Joey’s hand away and kisses his knuckles while he strips himself fully bare. He’s confused but he trusts Jesse, watches him as he straddles Joey’s thighs once again, popping the lube cap and dribbling a generous amount on two of his fingers. It drops onto Joey’s stomach and its surprisingly cold but it doesn’t seem to bother his counterpart, who reaches between his own legs and starts easing a finger in and out of his entrance. Jesse was a performer in every sense of the word and for once Joey was just letting himself be the audience, let himself learn and also become painfully erect. He starts to frantically unbutton his shirt, realising he’s still in a shirt and socks like mc’scrooge. He’s down to socks when Jesse wraps a hand around Joey’s cock and have goddamn fucking mercy does it feel good. He suddenly understands the catchphrase all too well as he hangs on by a thread, Jesse’s hand pumping his cock in slow, lax movements just to make sure he was as hard as he could be. “God, Jess, I need something…. I need to be inside you or on you or-“

Jesse shushes him and rolls a condom down Joey’s shaft, positions himself and then pushes the first few inches inside him. He hisses and Joey’s all panic city again. “Jess, are you okay? Did I hurt you I’m so sorry, we can stop-“ “Just gimme a minute, knucklehead” The insult isn’t meant, he’s smiling too softly through it and then he pushes down again and his eyes roll back in his skull. Fireworks go off behind Joey’s eyes and he can’t resist sinking in a little, grabs Jesse’s hips so tight he’s worried he might bruise. He still lets Jesse pick the pace, though, and before long they’re rocking into each other harder and wetter and louder. He’s heard Jesse sing but he’s never heard him make sounds like this. Even Joey can’t resist rambling, he always rambles in social situations and now he’s rambling every single dirty thought he has about Jesse into his ear. Jesse’s breaking new vocal ground, hitting new notes and getting so tight and Joey barely has time to warn him before he breaks like a dam, hears his own voice break as he comes inside his best friend in the whole world. Only a moment or two passes before Jesse lets out a cry, sticks their stomachs together with wet cum and goes soft in Joey’s hands.

They just hold each other for a second before collapsing in a heap on the cheap hotel mattress. Joey strokes Jesse’s hair and stares at the ceiling, scared to speak in case he ends the moment. Jesse is the one who breaks the silence. “Wow. Was that really your first time?”

Joey pauses, “Yeah. Was it really that not-mediocre?”

“Let’s just say,” Jesse sighs out “Have Mercy”

They chuckle together softly. Joey reaches beneath himself to pull out the hotel blanket and cover both of them. He hesitates for a moment before placing a kiss on the top of Jesse’s head. It’s too romantic, it has the potential to ruin everything but he might never get the chance again.

“Well if it was that good the first time,” Jesse clears his throat, speaks without meeting Joey’s eyes, “Imagine how good we’ll be at it next time”

It takes Joey’s brain a few moments to process, and then he stutters out;

“Next time?”

“If you’ll have me.” Joey wraps a possessive arm around Jesse’s shoulders, lets himself look into those hazy brown eyes.

“I’ll always have you.”

#full house #joey #jesse tanner #uncle joey uncle jesse #hi this is a very lonely hill to die on but its very comfortable #fanfic

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beepbeeprichiellc · 6 years

Note

17, 24, 31, 45

17. “Please.”

24. “Are you drunk?”

31. "Are you jealous?”

45. "Make me.”

The fire was well fed, reaching upward towards the sky with outstretched arms. People were scattered throughout the field, huddled in small groups or sprawled out on cars with bodies pressed tightly. The so called event was well advertised, almost the entire body showing up and partaking in the festivities. It had been Beverly’s idea to go, having found a flier pinned on her dorm door, and the others just followed right along. Richie had been forced-well more like dragged-along with his friends, the outing was supposedly going to “cure” his broken heart but all it did was make the hole in his chest ache. Two weeks ago the love of his life had ripped his soul from his body and crushed it under her four inch heels.

So here he was leaning against his truck, loathing in his self pity. Every now and then one of his friends would stop by and console him but would turn tail the moment they realized that they were getting nowhere. Currently he was with Stan, both of them nursing their beer due to having volunteered as the designated drivers. His friend was talking about something unimportant, the words going in one of the trashmouths ears and out the other. Usually, Richie would be a better friend but due to his current break up he was finding it hard to keep up the charade when all he wanted to do was go home and curl up into a tight ball.

“Are you even listening to me?”

Richie blinked, suddenly aware of Stan’s judging stare. “What?” He sputtered, crashing back down into earth with a autiable bang. “I-I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

Stan snorted, “Seriously Rich, you need to get out of this slump. It looks real bad on you.” It was a little harsh, coming from one of his closest friend but it was warranted and sharp. “You’re driving everyone crazy, I know you like the girl but-”

“Liked?” Richie laughed, the feeling painful in his bones. “I loved her! She was the one okay? The one I was supposed to be with forever! You guys just don’t understand, I mean when was the last time you-”

“Choose your next words carefully.” Stan warned, pushing his body off of the truck and turning his body towards him in one swift motion. “I know you are hurt but we are trying your best to help you. For fucks sake Richie we have all been listening to you rant on about Abby but guess what? She was a fucking bitch!”

“Take that back!” Richie hissed, a burning anger bubbling just under his skin. “Take that back right now!”

Stan looked as if he had been slapped, stepping back and breathing fire. “No. She cheated on you with your roommate! In your bed! Why are you still hung up on her? God, Eddie’s been throwing himself at you for years and yet you still chase after these bimbos with an IQ of a rock. For fucks sake you-”

“Eddie’s been what?” Richie cut, shaking the buzz from between his ears. “What did you just say?”

“Uh-” Stan started, swaying slightly in confusion. “What?”

“You just said that Eddie-” But Richie didn’t finish because at that moment Stan bolted, dropping his beer and running swiftly walking through the cars towards the fire where the others stood. Whatever he said then made Beverly punch him in the arm and Mike throw his hands up in the air. It would’ve be considered amusing if not for the sinking feeling it left in the trashmouths gut. Lifting himself from the truck he turned to follow, but stopped the moment a slurred voice called out to him.

“Hey R-Richie, did-did you see that? Stan ran a-away.” Richie turned to watch Eddie giggle into his hand, a half empty beer still in between his fingers. The small boy looked like shit, his usually put together look was torn apart, his clothes askew and his hair a curly mess. When he looked up to Richie his eyes were dulled and distant, a glimmer of pain hidden behind the deep pools of chocolate. “W-what’d you do? Insult his b-birds? You kn-know he’s sensitive about th-them.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Pfft.” Eddie took one final long drink from his bottle, tossing it to the ground beside his feet. “Na, little Eddie Spaghetti can’t party, didn’t you hear?”

The words burned Richie’s ears, it had been an echo of what he had said earlier out of anger. Everyone had been pressuring him to go to the bonfire and Eddie had piped in with his opinion so of course-being the amazing friend he had been lately-Richie bit his head off. “Listen Eds, I didn’t mean to say that. It’s just with the whole Abby thing I’ve been kinda-”

“Please.” Eddie whined, covering his ears. “St-stop talking about th-that whore. I hated h-her so fuh-cking much.” It had been the first time he had spoken bad about Richie’s ex, the words both harsh and loud. “I kn-knew she was no good. I t-told Bill that, jus-just ask him. I said-I said, this girl is going to bruh-break Richie’s heart a-and he s-said that it wa-was none of my buis-business and th-that you had to fuh-fuck up on your own.” He laughed, the dunken sway he had intensifying making him slam into the side of Richie’s passenger side door.

“Fuck, Eddie stop-”

“Make me.” He challenged with determined eyes. “Oh w-wait you can’t! Bec-cause you are too b-busy screwing a-around with everyone e-else to n-notice-” There was no fishing, only giving a heavy sigh and a burp instead. “Whatever, do-doesn’t matter.”

“Eddie?” Richie whispered, “Are you-” Eddie’s head rolled against his shoulders, breaking their eye contact. “Hey, look at me Eds.” The trashmouth reached out, grabbing hold of his friends face rather firmly, one hand on each side so not to hurt him. The action seemingly made Eddie melt, his body leaning against the warm touch. It took all Richie had not to pull away in surprise. “Are you jealous?”

Eddie’s eyes snapped open, his body jerking away as a sense of sobriety washed over him all at once. “N-no, I’m n-not-” He shook his head, stepping away from where Richie stood. “Why would y-you even ask-” There was a snort, a forced chuckle, and a crackle in his voice. “So st-stupid.”

“Is it?” Richie asked, feeling suddenly bare and vulnerable. “I mean ever since I started dating Abby you’ve been distant and then we broke up and-then you were there again, like nothing had happened. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before you-you lov-”

“Shut up!” Eddie yelled, the sudden change in his demeanor making Richie jump. “Sh-shut up okay? Y-you don’t kn-know shit.”

“What don’t I know?” Richie couldn’t stop himself, couldn’t let it go until his friend admitted what they both now knew. “Tell me Eddie, tell me the truth.”

“The tr-truth?” Eddie repeated, the slur dripping from his tounge. “You wa-wanna know th-the truth? The real t-truth?” Tears welled in his eyes, his lip quivering and arms folding inward on themselves. “I’ve b-been standing by fuh-for fifteen years, w-waiting for you to n-notice me and you h-havn’t! I only exist when it’s co-convenient for you! ‘Oh Eds, I l-love Abby, nuh-no Mark, no Ch-Christine”” The names were spat in disgust, right at Richie’s surprised face. “D-did you ever e-even realize? R-realize that I was the o-only one who was th-there to pick you b-back up when those lovers b-broke your heart! N-no matter how bad it hu-hurt I was there!”

“Eds I-”

“Hey, is everything okay over here?” It was Bill, because of-fucking-course it would be. Richie looked around and noticed that the party had stopped, everyone’s eyes turned towards the two of them, obviously noticing Eddie’s screaming voice. The attention burned his skin, but not as much as Eddie’s scorching glare. “What’s going on.” Bill’s hand snaked around Eddie’s shoulders, the protective gesture speaking volume. Eddie leaned into the touch, dropping the eye contact and biting his lip in shame. “Eddie?”

“I wanna go h-home.” Eddie muttered under his breath, staggering backwards in Bill’s arms. “Please, I ju-just wanna-just wanna-”

“Alright.” Bill breathed, pulling his friend close as if to shield him from the trashmouth. “I’ll take you home.”

“No, Eddie don’t go.” Richie whined, reaching out for his friend only to have it fall back to his side when they stepped out of range. “I’ll take you home, please I just want to talk.”

Eddie glanced up once more, the pain in his eyes agonizingly recognizable. “I’m duh-done talking.” And with that he left with Bill, swimming though the sea of people and fading away from Richie’s line of sight. The party staggered onward, leaving Richie in the dust.

Eventually Stan made it back over to him, hands in his pockets and face turned downward. “Yeah, so how’d it go?”

Richie groaned.

#reddie #it #it au #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #prompt

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reddieforlove-archive-blog · 6 years

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Neighbors

When Eddie made the decision to move back in with his mother after her heart attack, he expected many things. In a lot of ways, it was far different from his childhood. They couldn’t afford a house so they lived in an apartment. His mother no longer had the energy to oversee and micromanage his every move, so she settled with whining and guilting him from her place in the armchair. But Eddie had the ability to walk out whenever he needed, as a legal adult, though he didn’t take advantage of that opportunity nearly as much as he should have.

Eddie knew that his mother would try to control him. He knew that it would be hard not to let her. It was a near constant battle of trying not to submit to her determined influence, telling himself that he was in control of his own actions. But of all the ways he anticipated expressing his independence, finding himself bent over the next door neighbor’s kitchen counter with his clothes strewn about the floor and two long fingers working him open as Eddie pressed his palm over his mouth was not a situation that he ever could have predicted.

And yet here he was.

Richie Tozier was a wrench. He threw every carefully laid plan out the window from the moment he laid eyes on Eddie and bluntly complimented his ass with a wink. Eddie dismissed him as an asshole at first, flushing with anger at being taunted and letting him know just how little he appreciated it. But Richie was not put off. It took two and a half months for Eddie to start wondering if maybe Richie meant what he said. If maybe he wasn’t just having a good laugh at the expense of his neighbor.

Eddie tested his theory one day when his mother was at the doctor, pressing a light kiss to Richie’s lips in the mail room. He barely made it two steps away, embarrassment rising in his chest, before Richie had him pressed to the wall of mailboxes, kissing him deeply and thoroughly until they were both trembling with desire. Richie gave him a hand job in that same room that very same day. It was hard to stop after that. Each encounter left Eddie feeling more addicted, like he just couldn’t get enough of Richie’s touch.

That was only the beginning.

He had a long list of excuses for his absences. Work kept him late. The computer system was down at their favorite grocery store. Traffic was traffic, as it always was in Manhattan. Anything to find his way to Richie. Anything to lose himself in pleasure for just a few hours. To own a part of himself that his mother could never control. So here he was, after promising her that he would get the laundry done. It wasn’t a complete lie. The clothes were on a very thorough cycle. It helped that Richie had a washing machine and dryer in his apartment. It saved Eddie a trip to the laundromat.

“You with me, baby?” that low, husky voice asked from behind him.

Eddie nodded, not daring to let his hand fall away. The walls weren’t all that thin but he wasn’t willing to take the chance that his mother may hear, even if she was probably taking a nap. Richie curled his fingers just right, brushing over that sweet spot deep inside, and Eddie let out a muffled whine as he pressed back into Richie’s hand, wordlessly begging for more.

“Look at you,” Richie murmured, stroking his his free hand over Eddie’s hip. “So responsive. I fucking love those little noises you make.”

A third finger pressed in alongside the other two and Eddie squeezed his eyes shut, loving the delicious stretch and how Richie knew just what he needed. The slow rhythm of his fingers in and out, twisting and curling and scissoring, was enough to make Eddie’s knees shake and his lower belly coil with tight, hot pleasure. Eddie gripped at the counter with his free hand, canting his hips back and fucking himself on Richie’s fingers, earning a low noise of approval from the man behind him. Then those fingers pulled out, Richie’s thumb brushing teasingly over his rim when a noise of protest passed Eddie’s lips.

“I got you, Eds,” he promised.

Eddie’s cheeks, though already warm, flushed even more at his words as he heard the sound of a foil packet tearing and the bottle of lube popping open. He’d told Richie more than once not to call him that but it never stuck. Now Eddie was resigned to it, a fact that delighted Richie. In the deepest recesses of his mind, though he would never admit it aloud, Eddie knew that he really didn’t hate the nickname all that much. But Richie didn’t need the encouragement.

“You’re so damn beautiful, you know that?” Richie asked, draping over Eddie’s back for just a moment to press a kiss to his shoulder.

Whatever response Eddie had prepared, though his hand still covered his mouth, faded away when he felt the head of Richie’s cock nudging at his ass. Then he pressed in slowly, inch by inch, letting them both feel every moment of it. Eddie’s palm slapped to the counter as his mind lost all sense or concern for where he was. A low moan and gasp of Richie’s name fell from his lips as he bottomed out, filling Eddie to the brim with his thick length. Eddie trapped his lower lip in his teeth, breathing in and out through his nose as Richie stroked at his hips and kneaded his ass while they both got used to the feeling.

Then Richie pulled out slowly, almost all the way out, before sliding back into him at the same pace. A hoarse moan fell from Eddie’s lips. Richie did it again, and twice more after that, each time pulling noises out of him that he tried desperately and unsuccessfully to cover. He could practically feel Richie’s satisfaction with each sound he made, especially when the other man stroked his knuckles down Eddie’s spine and repeated the slow thrust of his hips. Eddie made no move to stop him, angling his hips back to meet his movements as pleasure sparked through his body.

“That’s right,” Richie murmured, the slightest strain in his voice. “You like more, don’t you? Hard and fast?”

Eddie let out a shaky breath, releasing his lip from the abuse of his teeth.

“Rich,” he said, letting his eyes fall closed as he finally spoke. “Please…I need…I-I…oh fuck…fuck me.”

As soon as he spoke the words, Richie didn’t waste a moment before picking up the pace and Eddie was lost in pleasure. With every moan and cry that filled the air, he could only pray that they wouldn’t be heard. Richie let out his own fair share of noises. He never lacked in words. Eddie knew that beyond a shadow of a doubt. He had no issue praising everything he could think of, letting loose words of appreciation for how well they fit, how good Eddie was doing, how beautiful he looked. Eddie would be a liar if he pretended to dislike it, knowing full well that Richie’s words brought a pleased flush to his cheeks as he met him thrust for thrust as hot pleasure pooled low in his belly.

“So good for me, aren’t you Eds? Taking my cock so well. I wish you could see it like this but you can feel it, can’t you baby? How perfect it is?”

“Richie,” Eddie whined, arching his back just slightly as he pressed his palms to the counter. “P-please…need…need more…”

Richie pulled out of him suddenly and Eddie let out a protesting noise just before he was pulled to stand and turned around. They didn’t waste any time before dropping down to the floor. Eddie could barely contemplate the last time it had been cleaned, knowing Richie’s lack of motivation quite well, before he was being arranged over the other man’s lap. He reached back, knowing without words what Richie wanted from him, lining up with the head of his cock before sinking down. They both let out soft moans, and in Richie’s case a few curses, as he bottomed out even deeper than before.

Then Richie was pulling Eddie almost all the way off before planting his feet on the tile, forcing Eddie’s legs further apart as he began thrusting up into him. Breathless moans and cries fell from his lips as Eddie braced his hands on Richie’s chest and stared down into his eyes with a heavy-lidded gaze. The blunt head of Richie’s cock brushed over his prostate every few thrusts, sending shocks of pleasure running through him as he tried to find a matching rhythm. It didn’t take long for a light sheen of sweat to cover his skin as Eddie began riding Richie desperately, reaching between them to stroke at his own cock.

“Oh fuck,” Richie moaned out, seizing his hips and guiding his movements. “I could fucking look at you like this forever, Eddie. You’re like a goddamn dream.”

Eddie dug his carefully clipped nails into Richie’s chest as he trapped his cries behind firmly pressed lips. He saw frustration and need pass over Richie’s face and knew that he wasn’t the only one who was close to release. Eddie reached out, pulling at his shoulder desperately as he tried to find the words for what he wanted. But, as always, Richie knew without being told and sat up, his hands pressing over Eddie’s heated back as he coaxed him into a kiss. They moved in tandem, Richie’s hand falling to Eddie’s cock as Eddie bounced up and down with no regard for the aching burn in his muscles.

His hand lifted, fisting in Richie’s hair and tugging sharply, drawing a muffled groan from the other man. Then Richie’s thumb brushed over his leaking slit and he ducked his heat, nipping at Eddie’s throat, and that was all it took for the tight coil to release as waves of pleasure rushed over him, making Eddie’s entire body quiver as he tossed his head back to the ceiling and spilled out over Richie’s hand. He barely had time to feel the oversensitive ache before Richie was coming too, rocking up into Eddie as he spilled into the condom. Eddie’s forehead dropped to Richie’s shoulder as he fought to catch his breath, pleasured tremors still running through him every so often.

Richie stroked gently fingers over his back, pressing kisses to his temple. He was always uncharacteristically quiet in the minutes after they finished, cooling down in each other’s arms without pulling away. Eddie loved it because he felt like Richie was the most vulnerable in moments like this, when their limbs grew heavy and their bodies ached for closeness that they easily gave into. He pressed a kiss over Richie’s collarbone and relished in the shiver that Richie gave in return, knowing full well that he affected the other man just as much as he was affected.

“One day,” Richie said quietly, nuzzling at Eddie affectionately with warmth and hope mingling in his tired voice. “One day we won’t have to hide, baby. I promise”

Eddie closed his eyes, an image taking shape in his mind of that day. He could only hope it would come soon.

“One day,” he repeated.

#rated e

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thelazyeye · 6 years

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War Dogs - Chapter 5

Summary:

Eddie’s hand in his is a pleasant weight. The skin is soft, moisturized, and warm. If Richie concentrates enough he can feel his pulse reach the palm of his hand for Eddie to receive and he feels the capture of Eddie’s responding heartbeat, sending it back up his veins into his own heart.

Read on A03

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@chocolatemangoose @reddiepop

The sky was dark and the air was still. It felt like any noise would give Richie away. No matter how quiet he was being, there was always some air of danger about. The risk was high, but the reward, oh the reward was higher. Eyes watching him. It was 11pm and Richie was currently dangling from a low hanging branch outside of the Kaspbrak residence. Sonia was inside somewhere, no doubt snoring like a machine gun, but Richie couldn’t be sure where. She could be up in her room but the chances of her being in the living room were equal. Sonia had gotten a rather expensive TV as a gift from one of her sisters on a count of her love for her game shows and soap operas. This TV happened to have the latest technology: a sleep timer. This meant that even though the window Richie was currently directly in front of was dark, the chances of Mrs. K. and him only being separated by a thin plane of glass were high. Hands, gripping his legs, ripping him down. Richie was careful, though. He may have been a reckless person during any other time but if Mrs. K. caught him halfway through Eddie’s window it wouldn’t just be Richie’s ass that was grass. It would also be Eddie’s. A voice that turns from sickly sweet to a dark, dark growl. Eddie did not know Richie was three quarters of the way up the side of his house. He did not see as Richie placed his foot on the shutters by his living room window. He did not watch in terror as Richie tried to use a branch for purchase, only to have it snap on him and send him two heart stopping feet closer to the ground. He did not wince when Richie’s body slammed against the side of his house. The only thing Eddie Kaspbrak did know was that, seemingly out of nowhere, at 11:07pm, Richie was sitting on the large oak branch directly outside of his window, tapping gently and smiling. Sharp, sharp, sharp. “Richie, what the fuck,” Eddie hissed as he opened his window. He pushed half of his body out and leveled Richie with what might have been intended as a threatening glare but actually came off as something fond. “Oh, hey Eds. What are you doing hanging out of your window at this time of night?” Richie hummed as he learned forward. He placed two hands on the windowsill on either side of Eddie. “Me? You! You’re gonna kill yourself out here, Richie,” Eddie hissed back, leaning back to beckon Richie inside. He quickly went to lock his door and stuff a towel under the gap while Richie snuck inside. “So, Eds, this is where you’ve been hiding all summer?” Richie dropped his bag and walked over to Eddie’s desk, brushing his hand over some of the papers that lay across it. Nothing interesting, some homework from the year, two comic books, a magazine in the corner. “Don’t call me that. And I haven’t been hiding, Richie. Do you really think I want to be stuck in here all summer?” “Yeah, what’s up with that anyway?” Eddie all but throws himself back on the bed, groaning quietly. Richie takes that as his cue to sit down on the edge. “You don’t say, Edward?” This earns him a sharp glare. Eddie hated every single nickname Richie gave him, but Edward? Come on. “Eddie. Richie, my name is fucking Eddie.” He cuts back, voice razor sharp. Richie decides to prod further and physically, jamming his finger into Eddie ribs. The smaller boy squealed and curled into his side, bringing his legs up and baring them down on Richie’s arm. It gets pretty physical after that. Richie had the upper hand. Eddie was already on his back and vulnerable. All Richie had to do was climb on top of him and pin him down. What Richie never accounts for is that Eddie strong and wily. When Eddie gets his feet up under Richie chest he completely launches Richie off the bed. He is airborne for a solid two seconds before coming down on Eddie floor, hard. When Richie makes contact the entire house goes silent. The silent giggles and heavy breathing stops. The air completely stills. They sit there for thirty whole seconds, listening. At any sign Sonia is awake Eddie knows he’s going to have to hide Richie, quiet and quick. He spends that thirty seconds scanning the room, devising a plan in his head to get Richie into the closet without making a sound. Fortunately for them, it never comes down to it. “Fuck, that was close.” Eddie says on the release of the breath he was holding. Richie doesn’t speak, not yet. He just nods and climbs back onto the bed. “She’s been such a fucking psycho lately. I can count the amount of time’s I’ve left my property this summer on two hands.” Richie just sits at the edge of the bed. He’d only seen Eddie twice so far. Once at Bill’s and once last week at the Barrens. “Jesus fuck, Eddie. What’s gone and crawled up her ass?” “I don’t know. She just went off on me when I told her I wanted to go to the Barrens to see you guys. Fucking brought up all that shit that happened last year. How I came home covered in sewage and how you guys apparently broke my arm.” “Fuck that. She has no idea what she’s talking about.” “Yeah, but it’s not like I can tell her what really happened. She’ll have me shipped up to Juniper faster than I can say demonic shapeshifting clown.” It’s quiet for a moment before Richie speaks up. “So, that’s what this is about, huh?” Eddie just hums in response. The air has gone tense in the room. “Yowza, Eds.” They continue to sit in silence for a while, neither one of them breaking it. Eddie’s still on his back from when they were wrestling only a few moments ago. Richie feels an itch in his chest to bring back that carefree atmosphere they had created before he so gracelessly hit the floor. It was like his body crashing down brought everything down with him, brought Eddie down with him. They could run away from all of this if they wanted to. Riche could open up the window and take Eddie’s hand, leading him down the side of his house to freedom. They would run up the street and out of Derry. They could be free from Eddie’s mother and the nightmares and the sewers and IT. They could spend the rest of eternity together if they wanted to. It might not be so bad. Richie almost says this, almost reaches for Eddie’s hand but stops himself. He plays the twitch in his arm off by bringing his hand up to brush curls out of his eyes. It’s so quiet in the room. The famous Richie Trashmouth Tozier has not broken the silence and doesn’t think he’s going to. It’s almost out of character, but with Eddie he doesn’t feel like he constantly needs to entertain. The silence is tense, yes, but it’s almost comfortable. It’s the kind of tension you learn to sit with. You simmer in it and let it seep into your bones. If you cannot sit with tension what can you do? Snap at every moving tree and every wrong flick of the wrist? If Richie did that, man, he’d be a dead boy by now. Hard wind, deep night skies, trees scraping against his window that sound eerily like claws. “She thinks you guys are a bad influence on me.” Eddie whispers. “She said I hardly take my medicine anymore and I talk back more than ever –“ “Your medicine is bullshit.” Richie’s voice is hard, much harder than he meant. Fuck Sonia. “Yeah, I know Richie. And she knows I know, too. But she still tries to use it against me. She’s trying to keep me from you guys. But what she doesn’t know is that I would be dead without you guys. She wouldn’t even have a little Eddie-bear to smother. I’d be gone.” He hardly even speaks the last sentence. Richie thinks back to the leper and reaches for Eddie’s hand again. This time he doesn’t change course, he doesn’t twitch up to his curls. He grabs the top of Eddies hand and squeezes. Eddie flips his palm over instinctually and their fingers intertwine. Richie would never let the leper get Eddie. Never. Richie would never let anything get to Eddie. He would give his life, he knows it. Every time he hears Eddie’s cry in his dreams Richie’s there. He runs as fast as he can, even when he knows it’s a dream. It isn’t always in Neibolt. Sometimes they’re at the Barrens or in the library or even in the halls of their high school. Eddie isn’t even always there, but that fucking werewolf is. Richie sees him, a constant force. He lurks around corners. He stands in doorways. He never attacks Richie. Richie figured this out a couple nights ago when, in a pseudo-haze of bravery, he stood his ground against the werewolf. Neither of them moved until the floor disintegrated beneath them, waking Richie up. At the moment their hands lace together Richie becomes hyper aware of his body. He feels the way the skin of his legs touches the so soft sheets on Eddies bed. He becomes aware of the blood pumping through his feet where they’re currently dangling. His breathing switches from automatic to manual and he notes how big each breathe is and how much noise he makes on the exhale. He feels his heart pumping through his chest. Eddie’s hand in his is a pleasant weight. The skin is soft, moisturized, and warm. If Richie concentrates enough he can feel his pulse reach the palm of his hand for Eddie to receive and he feels the capture of Eddie’s responding heartbeat, sending it back up his veins into his own heart. “We don’t need no worry about that here, Senior!” Richie crooned in his Pancho Vanilla voice, yanking Eddie’s hand close to his heart and throwing himself back onto the bed. Eddie brought his other hand up to muffle his laughter. “Hey, Eddie,” he continued with a normal voice, “I have something in my bag that might lift these spirits up!” Richie let go of Eddie’s hand and hopped off the bed, strolling to the window where he left his backpack. He pulls out the bottle of vodka he had at the Barrens and smiles over at Eddie. Before he can even speak to offer Eddie or move to take the cap off Eddie is on top of him, ripping the bottle out of his hands. “Are you fucking insane?! What the hell are you thinking bringing this here?!” he whisper-screeches. “Whoa, Eds, calm down,” Richie tries to start, but Eddie isn’t done. “You are so fucking irresponsible I can’t believe it! You’re fucking insane. I’m not drinking this with you put it away.” “Eddie, hey,” Richie tries again, reaching towards Eddie and placing a hand on his forearm, “it’s not that serious. I promise. I just thought maybe we could hit a little night cap. I’m sorry.” Richie slowly takes the bottle from Eddie’s hands and puts it back into his bag. “I didn’t want to put it away with my parents’ home and I keep forgetting when they’re at work.” Eddie is still looking at him, face flushed and eyes a mixture of anger and bewilderment. Richie hadn’t meant much by the alcohol. He just wanted Eddie to smile, to laugh a little bit. He remembered the Barrens when they were all a merry group. But this wasn’t the Barrens and now he was one for one, a win with his voice but a lose with the liquor. Eddie quickly relaxed with the alcohol out of sight. “It’s just that my mom is home and I know she’ll smell it out or something, like a fucking hound. And if she catches me with you and that in here…” he trails off. Richie gets it, he does. He simply grabs Eddie’s arm again and leads him back to the end. He lays down how he was earlier and pats the bed, beckoning Eddie to do the same. He does and soon they’re lying side by side again. “I’ll never make you do something you’re not comfortable with, Eds.” Riche says softly, turning his head to face Eddie. Eddie’s gaze meets his and all the fire from a minute ago is gone. This is a theme, Richie notices. Eddie is quick to light, quick to burn, and quick to fizzle. Eddie has always been like this. He’s a spitfire, a little zap of energy, but something has shifted inside of him. Eddie has never been so aggressive so quick before and this is only one of countless incidents in the past year. Richie hums a tune neither of them can really place but both enjoy. He turns back to the window and feels the bed dip and shift. Eddie, no doubt, is moving into a more comfortable position while Richie stays settled on his back. It takes a few minutes for him to speak up again, but eventually Richie hears himself whisper, “You know, I’ve been having these strange dreams lately.” He waits a couple heartbeats for a response. Nothing comes. When he turns his head he sees Eddie, fast asleep on his side. Richie just smiles to himself, writing this conversation off for another time. It’s not important, not really. This is something he can easily deal with on his own. Honestly, he wanted to check in with Eddie, make sure he’s okay. Richie stares for what might be considered too long, but no one knows it. No one is awake to see him or catch him or accuse him of anything, so he enjoys it. He finds himself enjoying Eddie, the way his chestnut hair is falling over his face at this angle and the way his mouth sits slightly open in sleep. Eddie has curled in on his side and tucked his hands between his bent knees. He is, Richie considers, something close to adorable. He doesn’t know what time it is when he leaves, but he pulls a throw from Eddie’s closet out and places it over the sleeping boy. He leaves the way he came, this time far, far more gently.

#Em posts #my writing #war dogs #Reddie #it 2017 #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #fanfic #richie #eddie #richie x eddie #it novel #stephen king #it fanfic #reddie fanfic #reddie fan fiction

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eenefangirlanalysis · 7 years

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Returning from our fourth commercial break viewers are presented with this really well drawn and animated sunflower field. These sun flowers add a unique touch to the scene. It feels as if they’re drawn in a unique way. Which is the purpose of this scene.

Big Picture Show gives viewers new locations. We’ve been stuck in one spot for ten years. If we’re amazed at what we see then that’s how the Ed’s feel. They’re seeing the world for the first time. Through their eyes. Which is why the atmosphere feels so free, energetic, and calming. That’s what flowers do.

Oh look, a barn in the background.

Could the farmer who owns all those cows live there?

If so, that means that Ed’s have not gone far from the cow field.

I have never studied the locations in this movie until now. Which means, the kids aren’t far behind. They could have caught up with them if they weren’t distracted with their own needs.

Since Rolf is all alone that is a much bigger distraction. We distract ourselves when we want to get things done. It would have made the movie better if Rolf did go along with Kevin and Nazz there would been less arguing and Rolf telling them to concentrate. Therefore, we wouldn’t have had a whole scene watching Rolf make an egg for himself.

And then Kevin and Nazz wouldn’t be constantly bickering. Rolf tends to play the mediator between Kevin and Nazz. Kevin has always obsessed about his bike but it seemed a little out of character to always push Nazz to the side when they’re good friends.

Edd is walking through the field inspecting through a device that he prepared with objects from nature. This device is made out from sticks, leaves, maybe flat rocks, and water droplet to replace as a lens.

The Ed’s have always improvised with tools they don’t have. That is really inspiring and I hope that fans have noticed this. Everything may not come out the way you want it to. You have to improvise. That’s what I love about Edd. He is a unique inventor.

As we would have learned through Edd’s confession he has been inventing since a young age. The dodge ball incident affected him greatly. I have a head canon that Edd’s parents never noticed that their child invented until the incident which game them a wrong impression about their son. They’ve always been too busy working or avoiding their son to observe his special talents.

And so Edd gave up inventing until he became friends with Ed and Eddy. They met as kids when Edd first moved into the neighborhood. My head canon is that the boys didn’t fully connect until some time late in the fourth grade. Have you ever noticed how they still feel as if they’re getting to know one another, or just Edd, through season 1? Ed and Eddy had no idea that Edd’s parents wrote to him through sticky notes.

His friends inspired Edd to invent again. Eddy always gave him the credit he deserved before he started obsessing over becoming the best scam conniver like Bro. Eddy gave Edd new hope. He looks at himself in a more positive way. Still, he is unsure and holds back due to his past.

Ed and Eddy are the best things that ever happened to Edd.

An excited Eddy calls out for Edd.

Aw, look at that smile Edd gives Eddy.

He’s so excited that he nearly runs past Edd and his to cling to his shirt.

Adorable.

Edd is protecting his device at all costs.

Eddy has something to show Edd when Ed rams into Eddy.

Once again these X marks appear in Eddy’s eyes and he grimaces.

And only Eddy is in pain upon the impact of falling to the ground.

I wonder if that means Eddy hurts more then he puts on. He always ignores pains. Eddy is one of the strongest people to ever walk the earth. He has taken so much pain and throws it into the shadows. He moves forward. That may not be the healthiest thing for Eddy as he is bottling all his failures and self esteem issues. You have to admire how he can put everything in the past and move on as if nothing happened.

Does that mean he’s going to have a tougher time post BPS now that his mask has been shattered?

“Oh, um....”

“Cute.”

Edd returns to his mature adult mask not wanting to lose focus. He has been given an important task. Which means he doesn’t want to let down Eddy if he really does want to locate his brother.

Letting someone down is not a part of Edd’s vocabulary. Especially a person who cares about him.

There will be a BIG line later on which implies so much about the relationship Edd has with his parents right now. I wonder if he still continues to do all those sticky note chores. Edd being who he is has to do them all. He has stopped relying on his parents mentally, but physically he needs to get all his chores done. He believes that his parents will one day come back into his life and act as if he’s their son for once.

Edd is about to walk away when Eddy pulls him back by his hat.

Look how freaked out Edd is. His hat was seconds away from slipping off his head.

I notice that Edd’s hat doesn’t stay suction cupped to his head along their journey. Edd needs to hold on to it. They may live in a cartoon world, but they’re facing reality. All children believe the cartoon world exists and will mimic dangerous stunts that happen in the shows they watch.

This relates to the Ed’s. Living in a cartoon world would be the most amazing life to live. Except cartoon characters can’t have everything. There comes a point where their survival skills are tested. Edd can’t keep what is hidden under his hat a secret for long. This is the first time he has been out in the real world on his own. He feels vulnerable.

Eddy tares out this sunflower.

I love the animation on this, btw. It has a really unique feel in the movement.

And slams Ed in the face.

Eddy laughs hysterically at this scene holding himself against Edd who’s mouth turns into his ear for a moment.

Eddy loves causing trouble. He has to make it with the right people. Oh, he’ll learn his lesson during a famous scene.

“Uh Oh!” Literally this is the cutest Eddy reaction ever.

Eddy runs for it as Ed gives chase acting as if he were a ferocious lion.

Great facial expressions by Edd who is confused on how to act with his friends play. He needs to protect his invention at all costs.

“I AM THE MIGHTY AGAMUSHIN! I AM FROM OUTER SPACE!”

“Don't bite me, oh Agam... ah- whatcha-whatchamacallit!”

Eddy is so adorable throughout this scene.

This little scene is a callback to all the times where the Ed’s played with each other. There were openings to early episodes with them running through the fields, horsing around in the junkyard, and their famous signature dog pile. These were my favorite moment because they gave off the vibe of the show.

Ed, Edd n Eddy is not just about three boys scamming neighborhood kids to buy jawbreakers. It’s about three outcasts trying to understand the world and each other. They’re kids who grow up too fast because they want to impress people who never respected them.

The Ed’s changed due to the people who affected them in their lives. These people made them have a negative outlook on themselves

I really want to take a minute and talk about Eddy’s character through this scene.

Eddy is usually annoyed with Ed’s antics or won’t play with him at all. He’ll just ignore it. This time away from the cul-de-sac is what he needed. He felt imprisoned with the constant bullying and harsh remarks.

Each Ed feels at peace.

I remember in Look Before You Ed Eddy stared bewildered at Ed and Edd playing with one another. And then he grows angry. He fears that he gave up his childhood to do these pointless scams and mask a person who he disliked. Eddy has always regretted that.

This journey is an opportunity to give Eddy a chance to be himself, enjoy life and be a kid.

@cyanidefilledcandy once analyzed this scene. I really liked the line she ended off with. The Ed’s escape from their imprisoned cul-de-sac gives them hope for a better life. They’re getting back in touch with their season 1 selves knowing they’ve become unlikable.

It’s a chance to reconnect.

Edd is even giggling at Ed and Eddy’s play.

Edd Mentally made himself grow up. He wishes he could enjoy the days where he was kid. I love the way Edd acted through season 1 and 2. He actually initiated the dog pile in the first episode. He found a sense of belonging with Ed and Eddy.

Honestly, I think Edd misses those days. That’s why he’s laughing along at this scene. In the scene from Look Before You Ed that I mentioned above instead of rubbing off Ed’s play he plays along. This is the remainder of his childhood. And most of it was taken away.

Nice face, Edd.

“Agamushin. A forest substrate. How apropos.”

Apropos: Very appropriate to a particular situation.

Hmm?

The lion is after the lamb bible passage?

#Ed Edd n Eddy #eene #ed edd n eddy big picture show #the eds #Ed #Edd #Eddy #character analysis #eene analysis #eene headcanons #eene season 1 #eene season 2 #EdEddy #Look Before You Ed #cul de sac kids #EddEddy #Rolf #Kevin #Nazz

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smoakmonster · 7 years

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B is for Better With You

Prompt: Comfort Anonymous Prompt: Olicity + "I sleep better when I'm next to you." A/N: I’m combining this week’s prompt with a hurt/comfort prompt that has been marinating in my inbox for ages. Apparently I am incapable of writing pure fluff, because this turned into a pretty angsty AU. This story was initially inspired by the Jacin and Winter relationship from The Lunar Chronicles. Word Count: 4.9k Tagging: @thebookjumper, @olicityhiatusficathon, @scu11y22 Also available on AO3.

xxx

“Mr. Oliver?”

Raisa’s careful tone causes his stomach to fill with lead.

When he looks up from his desk, he doesn’t even have to ask her what she’s referring to. He can read the worry plain on her face, in her solemn, knowing look. It’s a quiet, secret language they’ve perfected over the years.

“She’s worse,” Raisa whispers to him in Russian. And if the pitiful look she's giving him now is not enough to make panic flare up within his chest, the fact that she's using Russian--to prevent listening ears from overhearing--is more than enough.

He swallows, trying--and failing--to repress the sudden, ugly worry ravaging its way through his heart. Worse. Such a vague and agonizing word, one that tells him exactly nothing and yet conveys everything regarding the woman he loves in the other room. Is she worse than she was a few minutes ago or a few months ago? Is she worse than even his deepest, most twisted fears? Is she worse than ever and beyond rescuing?

Then again, when was the last time either of them was actually better after sundown? Nighttime remains more unpredictable than the day, darkness more oppressive than the light.

And he hates this part--the plummeting, endless abyss before the crash, the sharp reminder that even on a quiet, stormless night, there can be no escape from the mind’s hellish surges. Purgatory is forever.

He spots the familiar prescription bottle sitting on top of his dresser, taunting him. Next to it, flickering against the light, lies a long, thin...cruel needle. A sedative.

“I do not wish to harm her, Mr. Oliver. But perhaps, if she harms herself...”

“No. No needles,” he reminds her sternly. He doesn’t mean to sound harsh. He’s not angry at Raisa. He’s not angry at anyone, really, other than the universe for allowing this to happen to the one he loves.

God, he hopes it doesn't come to that.

He made a promise to her once that he'd never inject her with anything, no matter what happens.

Carefully, he swipes the container up as he slowly makes his way towards the adjoining bedroom door--the open gate between their respective cages, their respective prisons.

This big place used to be sacred; now it’s become tainted. The mansion is where she used to stay as a regular guest during the summers when they were children. As kids, they would unlock the door and sneak in and out of each other’s rooms next door and have long chats filled with laughter and playful mischief. As teenagers, however, they soon discovered that co-ed sleepovers were not as innocent nor as possible as they had been during the golden days of youth. But they still made an effort to say goodnight to one another, while the rest of the house slept unaware. Even when she went to M.I.T., he personally never allowed anyone else to stay in her room, the room next to his own, the one corner of the universe that remained purely and completely theirs.

But that was many years ago...before they both became orphans. Before the nightmares. Before the pain. Before he became like the very monsters he’s trying to protect her from.

They grew up together sleeping a wall apart. Best case scenario, he expects that they’ll grow old together the same way.

It takes him an eternal second to cross the threshold. One second for his mind to fill with damaging scenarios. One second to worry if this is the night he loses her forever.

Oliver takes a deep breath, pausing despite himself. Invariably, the moment before he steps into her room, into her safe space, he feels severely unqualified to administer any sort of aid. He’s the last person in the world who can make the demons recede.

Her room is dimly lit, with warm yellow light coming from a lamp on a small end table, illuminating just enough of her bed for him to see her. There she stands, hunched over her computer, like always, utterly immersed within her vast, coded, digital world, a world he can never really follow her into. The world outside this room could be crumbling to pieces, and she'd never know. And maybe it's better this way, for her to retain some naivety about how unkind the real world can truly be, how it preys on the gentlest of souls.

She doesn't react, doesn't see or hear him come in. Her distinctive ponytail is falling loose and knotting, in a state of disarray. The harsh blue light of the computer illuminates her worn but concentrated face. Her eyebrows are drawn tight with determination, her cheeks thinner and paler today, probably because she still hasn't eaten anything, if the untouched plate on her coffee table is any indication.

Stuffing the bottle of pills into his pocket, he approaches her unsafe haven, softly, gently, like a panther aiming to befriend a deer, that’s when he hears her.

“I have to find it...skeleton key...I have to find it...” she mutters to herself, typing away, never ceasing, working herself back into paranoia and exhaustion.

She’s haunted by ghosts even he can’t kill.

And he hates seeing her like this, so close and so far beyond his reach.

Every time is like the first time. He wonders if he’ll ever get used to this dreadful urgency. He never wants to get used to this.

Like a match being struck, he can feel his own insatiable need to fix this sparking within him, a kind of throbbing violence that makes him tremble. On the outside he may be stoic, but it’s just a facade in effort to quell the craze inside him. He feels like he’s suffocating in his own skin, so utterly powerless.

But he only allows himself to be angry for three seconds. He doesn't want to make her more upset. He's here to heal her, which is as frustrating as it is painfully ironic. She's done more for him than he will ever be able to do for her.

Suddenly, she stops typing.

He feels the instant the room shifts, the instant her whole body stiffens as her walls go up, already on guard, already ready to run away from him.

She looks at him with closed-off and cautious eyes. “Are...are you my doctor?” she asks quietly.

He swallows the lump in his throat. “No, Felicity. I’m...” he hesitates, always unsure how to begin. “I’m your friend,” he settles.

It feels hollow. but at least it’s a start. It’s the truth. And even if she doesn't remember right now, he promised her he’d never lie to her again.

“My friend?” she asks, unconvinced.

He just nods, trying to ignore the flare of selfish pain that rips through him. It doesn’t matter how many times they go through this twisted ritual. This part still guts him every time--every time she doesn’t recognize him; every time she looks scared and lost and unsure, such a frail fragment of the woman he knows.

“We...we haven’t seen each other in awhile,” he finally says. And that’s true enough. It feels like it’s been years since he’s really seen the woman he loves.

Nervously, Oliver stuffs both his hands into his pockets, whether for her sake or his own, he’s not entirely sure. “Felicity, do you know where you are?”

She frowns deeply, adorably, eyes wandering around the large space with a slight pout in her lips. “My room?” she asks. Yet it’s the way she asks, in that wonderful Felicity way, that really gives him pause, gives him hope. She asks not because she’s truly uncertain, but more like she’s wondering why he’s even asking her in the first place. Which means she can’t be too far gone after all.

“And where is your room?” he continues, daring to hedge just a step closer. His heart lifts when she doesn’t back away from him.

“Upstairs to the left, down the second hallway. The left window doesn’t open,” she recites faithfully, glancing towards the window in question.

His lips twitch. He recalls with fondness one particular night they tried to sneak out through her window and discovered just how inoperable it was. Since inheriting the mansion, he’s never had the desire to have it replaced. After all, it seems the blueprints of her childhood never go away. Her feelings are less constant.

And Oliver doesn’t know what does it this time. He can never predict what triggers the change--perhaps, she’s remembering that same night of teenage mischief--but he sees the moment the light goes off behind her eyes, the moment she finally sees him. Like waking up, one second she’s looking through him, and then suddenly she’s looking at him...like she knows him, like she can stare straight into his soul. Just like when they were kids.

He can’t breathe.

She hasn’t looked at him with such deep recognition like this in weeks. The intensity leaves him awestruck. He hadn’t realized how much he’s been aching to see once more that soft, trusting, vulnerable gaze. But now that he has it, has her back again for just a moment, his brave, beautiful Felicity...he doesn’t want her to leave him again.

“Oliver?” The hesitation in her voice nearly chokes him.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

She makes some kind of sound he has no name for--something between sorrowful and relieved--and then she runs into his arms, slamming into his chest. He has no choice but to scoop her up into his arms, hauling her as close to him as she can get, cradling the back of her precious head, pressing her heartbeat up against his own where it belongs.

She clings to him as desperately as he clings to her, clawing her fists into his clothes, rubbing her nose against his neck, breathing him in.

And then she lets out another noise, this one smaller but just as fierce. It’s such a quiet whimper, he almost thinks he imagines it. But he knows it’s real. He can feel her quivering agony down to his bones. He’s grown so attuned to her every sound that he recognizes the acute cry for what it is.

And in that moment, he doesn't want anyone else to touch her. He’s the first person in the world who will do everything, anything to keep her safe. He may be the least worthy, but he needs to be the one who comforts her. (He still hasn’t determined where the line between selfish yearning and selfless desperation resides where she’s concerned, and yet he doesn’t really want to make up his mind about that either.)

“I missed you,” she mumbles against his throat.

“I missed you, too,” he manages to get out. You have no idea how much.

Reluctantly, Oliver lets her slide out of his grasp just enough to look up at him. She studies him intently, cataloging all of his face, searching for the secrets he keeps burying and uncovering and burying again.

Felicity reaches up to rest her palm against his cheek, and he starts, because now he’s starting to forget what this feels like.

“When did you get back?” She means the island. Her memories always seem to reset back to the day he first returned after five years in hell...only to find another five years of hell awaiting for him at his doorstep.

“Just now,” he answers honestly. He’s never really home until she comes back to him.

“Uh-oh.”

“What?” He stills instantly at her grave tone. But then he sees--the sparkle, the teasing in her eyes.

“You have mopey face. Are you here to tell me that I'm crazy?” She tips her head at him playfully.

He tries not to smile, but there are some things that simply cannot be helped. That's his Felicity...always to the point, always making the world a brighter place even as her own world spins out of control.

He leans in close, like they’re sharing an old, secret antic. “That depends. Are you crazy?”

She sighs, averting her gaze, as she takes to fiddling with the wrinkles of his shirt. “I know when I’m being like Ophelia.”

His smile fades. While this isn’t the first time she’s used that joke--so he actually understands the reference--this is the first time she’s done so in such a despondent tone, as though she truly believes what she says. So he decides to tease her, to lighten the mood, to make her smile. Anything to make her smile, to feel as normal as she craves to be. What a messed up pair they make.

“I wouldn’t know. I didn’t study Shakespeare, remember?”

It works a little. At least she’s looking him in the eye again.

“I promise I'm not as bad as the doctors think I am.”

His heart beats a little faster at that, filling with trouble that somehow she knows. Even so, he shakes his head, trying to assuage her. “Who said anything about--”

“You don't have to pretend. I saw the medical documents.”

He frowns, studying her right back in the silence, until it finally hits him. “You hacked into your medical records.”

The way her eyes grow just a touch wider, deceptively innocent, is conformation enough.

“Fe-li-ci-ty...” he prompts.

“Ugh. Hacking is such a dirty word.” She scrunches her nose, an act that he should not find as endearing as he does. “Oliver, I am a Grade A genius.”

“I don’t need to be told that. But do we need to have a conversation about computer privileges again?”

“Is that judgment I’m hearing?”

They share a look, as he attempts to admonish her, while she just silently challenges him to do something to stop her, when they both know he never will. He sighs with amusement mixed with pride. But the concern never goes away.

“I mean, technically, they are my confidential patient files that I’m...perusing. I have a right to know. According to the doctors, I should be moved to an institution.”

He starts. The way she just casually mentions it, as though sending her to a place like that, all alone and away from him didn’t absolutely disturb and terrify him on every possible level. In reality, though, he knows her life under constant care of trained professionals would not be that much different than her is now. And it’s not as though he and Raisa and John have never discussed this very topic. He’s discussed it while shaking to the core and blatantly refusing to allow anyone other than their family doctor near her, but he’s discussed it.

What if she has an episode when he’s not around to keep her from hurting herself? What if she hacks her way into the FBI again and the police come calling? What if by some chance that broken window betrays him and manages to crack itself open just enough for her to slip out and get lost?

But what if he sends her away and loses her forever anyway?

And why does he so badly need her here in their childhood home? Is it for her? Or is it for him?

He clears his throat. “We’ve already had this talk. Many times. And you’re staying here.”

“Promise me?” she asks in a soft, timid voice he hardly recognizes. He feels as though someone’s punched all the air out of him. But then she looks up at him with those big blue eyes, so lost, silently pleading with him, as though he holds all the answers. Oh, this is why he can never send her away. This familiar, steady, disarming look.

“I promise,” he vows. “And I promise not to reveal your...browsing history to the doctor.”

That puts a little spark back in her expression. “Well that’s good, since I keep your secret, too.” She winks at him.

Which one? he wonders.

But before he can even dare to tackle that subject, her computer starts beeping, and she’s darting away from him to resume her typing marathon.

Please don’t go. I just got you back.

“Felicity,” he warns, moving to stand beside her and watch her work.

“Just...one second.... It’s been running all day.”

Felicity types for another minute or so, and then like a tornado dissipating, she goes still, glancing back at him for approval. “So what do you think?” she asks, almost giddy.

He swallows when he sees it--a night time camera shot from a street corner in The Glades. It’s dark and grainy, but he can make out the shadow of a figure in the middle of the street. A hooded shadow.

He tries to keep his voice casual. “You...you’ve been tracking the vigilante?”

“Mm-hmm.” She smiles, clearly pleased with her handiwork. “Took me awhile. This hood guy, as the internet is calling him, is pretty clever, I’ll give him that, trying to make it appear like there is no method to his madness--”

“Well, maybe there isn’t--”

“Oh, there is. Trust me. I am an expert at madness--” She winces. “Poor choice of words, sorry.” She shakes her head a bit, grabbing his arm to pull him closer still. “Take a look at these videos I found from the back alley of his secret lair.”

He pretends to focus intently on the blurry video, watching himself hop onto his motorcycle before taking off into the night. “His secret lair is an abandoned nightclub?”

She shrugs, ignoring his over-the-top skepticism, sticking her chin out proudly. “Well, I’ll admit, it’s not the most aesthetically pleasing location, but we can’t all be a Queen heir, can we?”

She’s defending him, he realizes. She’s defending the vigilante. To him.

All these months of trying to keep this part of his life as far away from her as possible, and in her classic, brilliant Felicity way, she’s somehow managed to plop herself directly into it.

He’s so stunned, reeling from this new information, that it takes him a moment to catch up to what she’s saying.

“--so with my new algorithm that compiles and predicts all the main routes the vigilante takes in and out of The Glades... Oliver, I think the vigilante could be a lot closer to home than we realize.”

She’s not wrong in this case, and that’s what scares him even more.

He must not disguise his reaction very well, because whatever she reads in his expression sends her babbling again. “Look, I know my brain is not always the most reliable source when it comes to these sorts of things, but cameras and news articles don’t lie. Well, cameras don’t lie at least. Unless someone hacked into the entire city’s traffic camera system, which is...technically not impossible but highly unlikely and would take at least--”

“I want you to stay out of this, okay?” He cuts off her rant. He can’t take this anymore. He can’t just stand here calmly and listen to her casually talk about the vigilante, as if she were talking about her favorite character in a book.

“Why?”

“Because this guy--whoever he is--he’s dangerous.”

“I don’t know. Seems to me he’s just trying to help. I’ll admit, his methods are slightly misguided but…”

He crosses his arms, waiting for her to finish. “But?” he prompts.

“Oliver, I just want to meet him.” Something in her voice...changes. Elevates. Fills with some timbre that’s never been there before. She’s acting like...like a fan. Of the vigilante.

“You want to meet the vigilante?” he almost growls but manages to keep himself in check.

“Yes!” she answers brightly. “Don’t you?”

“Not particularly.”

“I just want to tell him how amazing he is. To say thank you. Everything he sacrifices to keep the people of this city safe, to keep me safe, to keep you safe. It kind of makes him a hero, doesn’t it?”

He sighs heavily. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that this other side of her still exists, when there’s so much else happening on the surface that breaks his heart. Her brightness is enough to give him hope, even as every fibre of his being revolts against every word she says.

She’s always had a vivid imagination, but not like this. This is one thing that she is completely right about. But telling her means opening up a rusty can of worms and lies, and he’s not ready to let her see the worst parts of him yet. He does what he does so she can see what little humanity he keeps. He keeps for her. It’s wrong, he knows. And he’s only half a person, when he’s with her and when he’s without her. But he’ll gladly go insane if it means preserving her sanity. It’s more than he deserves, anyway. She’s more than he deserves.

“Let’s talk more about this in the morning. It’s time for bed.”

She pouts, “Noooo. But I’m not sleepy.”

“Yes, you are. Come on.”

Oliver practically drags her over to her large queen-sized bed, the same bed she’s had since she was seven and first came to live with his family. Carefully, he pulls the prescription bottle out of his pocket and holds it out to her expectantly.

She makes a face in disgust.

“Please,” he whispers.

“Those gross pills never work. They don’t help me sleep.”

After another half-hearted attempt, he just sighs, stashing the pills back into his pocket. “Well then, what does?”

She tips her head, and to her credit, she at least pretends to contemplate his question for a few seconds before responding. “Hmm...hacking.”

He’s already shaking his head no.

“You.” She gently tugs on the front, unused belt loops in his jeans, pulling herself nearer to him. “You make everything better.”

“I seriously doubt that.”

“And I seriously disagree with you. Why can’t I stay in your room with you?”

His heart kicks into overdrive as she leans in even closer. Boundaries, Oliver.

“Felicity…” He breathes her name to caution her, but it comes out more desperate than deterring.

“Oliver…” She copies his tone.

He doesn’t know how to go on, until he does. And he knows he should stop her from leaning in this close, from rising up on her tiptoes, from brushing the tip of her warm, soft nose against his. But he just doesn’t have the strength to fight her anymore. Not tonight. He needs to feel loved and protected as much as she does.

So he lets her kiss him. And he kisses her back.

It’s not a harsh or passionate kiss like the ones they used to share in the early years; it’s not an inferno of hunger and need. No, this one is more tender and slow, more patient, more like the dying embers of a warm hearth, like the easy swell of a sunrise.

And when they eventually break away, her power over him feels even greater. Those eyes calling out to him, wanting him... It’s addictive to be needed this way. He craves her company as much as she seems to crave his.

Sometimes he feels ineptly qualified to cater to her every psychological need, no matter how much she asks of him. Sometimes he feels disturbingly overly qualified. He’s incapable of saying no to her.

“Fine,” he says at last. “I’ll stay with you till you’re sleeping.”

She smiles, clearly relishing her victory. He can’t even be sorry seeing her so happy.

“And rain will make the flowers grow,” she chimes, twisting out of his arms to begin removing a few of her twenty-something pillows.

“What?” he asks, helping her pull back the duvet.

“It’s from Les Mis, remember? We watched it last week.”

He stills. Last week? She remembers that?

And now, he wonders, not for the first time, if her brain isn’t actually spiraling out of wack, but instead if it’s something more like what Barry’s heart was while he was in that coma. Moving too fast for the doctors to pick up. What if her brain is just moving too fast that the doctors have no other choice but to label her as something beyond reason?

And as though he’s the one who’s been struck by lightning, Oliver knows that this odd thing about Felicity Smoak...it’s not a curse. It’s a gift. Because everything about her is a gift.

“You sure you want me to stay?” He tries to mask the hope swelling inside him, bursting like honey.

“Come here,” she reaches for him, yanking him down onto the bed to plop beside her. “I always sleep better when I’m next to you anyway.”

xxx

She wakes in a cold sweat to an abrupt shifting on her mattress. Her bad vision barely has time to adjust to the pitch darkness before she’s startled by a painful groan. She scurries in the abyss to turn on the lamp--to chase the demons away with the light.

She squints against the brightness, putting on her glasses...and then she sees him.

“Oh, Oliver...” she breathes, her heart squeezing.

Her wonderful, darling friend--who’s always been far more than a friend--trembles and twists in the night, fighting against faceless enemies she can neither stop nor see, struggling mercilessly, endlessly. She knows exactly what that’s like.

She chases monsters in the day, while he chases monsters in the night. So maybe they can be each other’s cure.

And so Felicity does the only thing she knows how to do, the only thing within her power to do. She throws herself into the fire with him, wrapping her arms tight around his back, hauling herself against him, pressing her ear up against his back where she can feel his heartbeat, her favorite spot in the whole world. She loves the strength of his heart.

His whole body is tight, cramped and coiled in a near fetal position. “Please,” he mutters in his sleep. “Please, make it stop. Make it stop make it stop make it stop...”

I want to, honey. I want to so much.

He flinches against a memory of a swift blow, shaking them both, but she doesn’t let go. He whines in pain, lingering in a hole of agony she has no name for. God, she’s never really been a violent person, but sometimes she just wants to find whoever did this to him on that island and make their lives as living hell. See how they like spending their nights, afraid and ashamed and broken and...and still so beautiful.

Felicity holds onto him just a little bit tighter, squishing her face against the burning muscles of his body, as though to mold herself into his form permanently. She can feel the raised pattern of one of his scars. It’s from a knife wound apparently--one of many, at least that’s all he’s told her. Still, she knows it well. She’s charted the history written into his skin so many times. She even has secret names for some of his scars, like constellations, names like valiant and stubborn and winsome.

While he whimpers in his sleep, there comes a moment, so brief and yet it seems to last for hours in her mind, when she begins to wonder, Is this the one that never ends? Is this the night we both lose our minds?

But then...his breathing gentles; he stops shaking.

And miraculously, the horror does end.

And she feels her body relaxing along with his, muscles that she didn’t even realize were tight beginning to loosen. And just before letting go, she clings to him one last time, hoping that maybe this time, if she holds him tight enough, maybe she can hold together the broken shards of their minds.

When she feels him turning over, she scoots back to make room. As soon as his head hits the pillow, he blinks awake, frowning up at her, a little delirious, in the strange place in between sleep and reality. But when he grabs her hand, she doesn’t try to stop him; quite the contrary, she relishes his touch.

“Felicity?”

“Yeah. It’s me.”

“Sorry I...I fell asleep,” he mumbles, his eyelids already falling.

“Don’t be sorry. I’m taking care of you for once.”

“M’kay. Don’t tell...Raisa...”

And then he’s gone, back to the land of dreams, hopefully good dreams this time.

Felicity smiles, like she does almost every night they go through this ritual, the ritual of pretending they’re not going to end up in the same bed together but somehow still ending up here anyway. “Don’t worry, Mister Vigilante. I can keep a secret.”

She decides to leave the lamp on this time, lying down to rest her chin on his shoulder, her preferred pillow of choice.

Whatever comes tomorrow, it doesn't matter. They have tonight. She has her sanity. She has him--her pillar of strength and book of secrets; her hero and her home. With a mind overflowing in brilliance like her own, yet as equally uncharted in its terrain, sometimes Felicity thinks he’s the one mystery she’s never going to be able to solve. And that’s okay. She’s happy to accept the challenge of spending a lifetime puzzling him out.

Even in the darkness, they’re inseparable, the boy he was before being lost at sea, and the girl she was before being smothered on land. Sometimes if feels like they both died the nights their parents died. They are both a little mad, but maybe together they can make one whole, rational person. Maybe together they can rebuild what was stolen from them.

As Felicity drifts off, she runs her hand over his heart in soothing strokes, in one last act of comfort before they start all over again tomorrow. She pleas as much as she promises him, “It’s okay. You’re safe...you’re safe. I’m here.”

#ohfat #olicity hiatus fic-a-thon #olicityhiatusfic #olicity #olicity fic #olicity au #olicity angst #how I love thee: a to z series #my stuff #shelley does fic

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markonasurface · 7 years

Text

47/50 - “I can think of a million places I’d rather be right now.”

Fandom: All for the Game/The Foxhole Court Characters/pairings: Jean, Jeremy, Foxes/jerejean (jeremy likes jean) Summary: Jean is reminded of being waterboarded.

A/N: Still don’t know how to end fics. I know only the eastern teams have their banquets together but Perfect Court interacting.

Jean pulled uncomfortably at his tie. As relieved as he was that it wasn’t red, it still felt wrong. It was his first banquet as a Trojan. The Ravens had been disbanded but there were bound to be plenty of former Ravens on other teams.

After all, a team was only as good as its weakest link and the Ravens had been the best. Jean was willing to bet that a lot of the Ravens were still mad at him for leaving when they needed him most if the way they’d been treating him during games so far this year was any indication.

Not that he could have played. Riko had left him in a sorry state that few got to witness.

“Jean?” Jeremy knocked on the bathroom door. “We’ve gotta go.”

Jean opened the bathroom door and took one last glance in the mirror. He resisted the urge to pick at the scab under his left eye and faced Jeremy.

The bright grin he was met with almost made him feel like everything was going to be okay tonight. Almost.

“I told you the tie would go perfectly with your eyes,” Jeremy reached out to smooth Jean’s tie. “Let’s go.”

It was a short drive from the hotel to the hosting school’s court. Jean bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. He jumped when he felt a hand on his and Jeremy gave a short laugh.

“Just me.” He raised his hands to show Jean he wasn’t touching him anymore.

Jean nodded stiffly and forced an easy smile onto his face. Just how Kevin had taught him.

“You don’t need to pretend for me,” Jeremy said softly.

“I’m pretending for me,” Jean admitted, the words feeling strange leaving his lips. Timothy, the team’s shrink, had told him to practice being honest about his vulnerability. It was okay.

“If you need to leave at any time,” Jeremy started.

“I’ll be fine,” Jean looked out the window and saw the Foxes pulling up at the same time.

“Kevin!” Jeremy waved and jogged over. He gave Kevin a hug.

“Jeremy,” Kevin said, looking slightly surprised. After a moment’s hesitation he shook hands with Jean. In French he said, “You look like you’re gonna be sick.”

Jean tried to roll his eyes. He gulped. “Is this how you felt last year? Times a thousand?”

“Probably.”

“He inhaled half a bottle of vodka in ten seconds on the bus last year,” Neil said and Kevin glared at him. He offered a hand and said, “Hey, Jeremy.”

Jeremy shook it, unfazed by being left out of their conversation. “Neil Josten. Congratulations on being made Vice Captain.”

Neil awkwardly thanked him.

“Jean!” Renee came over and wrapped her arms around him. He squeezed her back too tight. “Shall we go in, guys?”

Inside the Foxes left to change in the locker room and the Trojans continued to the court. The tables were set up how they typically were during their Exy banquets and Coach Rhemann went to get the seating chart.

Jean looked around with the practiced ease of always having to pretend he was okay. He spotted several former teammates with the Jackals and didn’t miss the snarls on their faces as he caught their eyes.

“C’mon, Jean,” Jeremy pulled him along.

He sat between Jeremy and Laila, mostly pushing his food around on his plate. He breathed easier once the Foxes settled into the empty seats at their table.

Renee and one of the twins sat across from him. Conversation flowed easily between Jean and Renee and he started to enjoy himself even. It helped that both Neil and Kevin were near enough to laugh at his jokes that only made sense in French.

“I like your new tattoo,” she commented and Jean self-consciously touched his fingers to his cheekbone. It still felt like a betrayal. Timothy had spent the last two weeks telling him it wasn’t but he still had trouble squashing the feeling down.

“Thanks.” He blushed.

“If Jeremy got one what do you think it’d be?” Renee mused, looking down the row at her teammates and at some of the Trojans. “I think a small sun would be perfect.”

Jean noticed the way her smile seemed to freeze in place and her eyes looked worriedly from Jean to Kevin.

He flinched at the next voice he heard. “A big L for loser.”

“Fuck off, Smith,” Neil spit out.

Smith ignored him and looked at his friend. “I think he’d get a dick tattooed on his face.”

“Ha. Ha.” Nicky said from a few seats over. “Very clever. A gay man getting a penis tattooed on his face. Wow. Amazing. Inspirational.”

Jean wished he had the courage to remind Smith of who Riko called any time he thought Jean might need to be fucked into submission. Despite the past half year, Jean was still a survivor and he held his tongue.

“Go away,” Neil warned, standing up.

“Neil,” Dan hissed.

Smith turned his ugly smile on Dan. “Hennessey! Long time no see! You’re not the ten I see but I’d still give you some ones. How ‘bout it?”

“Gee,” Andrew spoke up, bored. “You two really are clever. Weren’t you the one she sent to the ground with one hit last year?”

“No one asked you, Doe.”

“Your insults are so last year,” Allison took a sip of her punch. “It’s almost like without Riko none of you can come up with any new material. Pathetic.”

Jean felt the need to defend Riko, then remembered it was misplaced loyalty. Instead he stared at Kevin who finally opened his mouth. “As you can see, you’re not wanted here so you really should just fuck off now.”

“But we have a present for Jean,” Smith said and Jean’s blood ran cold.

“Don’t -” Kevin stood up quickly, knocking his chair over.

And Jean was drowning. He tried to breathe but inhaled water. He wrapped his hands around his throat, choking. He coughed and spluttered and his vision went blurry.

He felt hands on his arms and struggled against them.

Someone’s hands were on his face. “Look at me, Jean.”

Kevin’s face came into focus and Jean pushed him away. “Get away from me!” he cried. He pushed at Kevin again.

“Jean!” Kevin said loudly. He spoke in French. “We’re not there, Jean! Let me help you! Riko is dead. Jean, Jean! Look at me. Breathe. I’m sorry. Breathe. We’re okay. Okay?”

Slowly his breathing returned to normal and he took in his surroundings. He was on the floor, in a puddle and Kevin was kneeling over him, hands on either side of Jean’s head. A circle had formed and coaches and Exy players were staring.

He met Jeremy’s eyes and felt humiliated.

Kevin stood and offered him a hand up. His hand was firm on Jean’s back as he led him through the crowd towards the locker room.

They sat in silence on a bench until someone knocked. Wymack and Jeremy came in. Jean stared straight ahead, unwilling to acknowledge any of them.

“Some towels,” Jeremy held them up. “Coach said I can take you back to the hotel when you’re ready.”

Wymack held up a bag. “From Abby. Just in case.” He pursed his lips like he wanted to say more, then left.

Kevin took the towels from Jeremy and started helping Jean dry off and undress. He murmured softly in French and Jean kept staring blankly at a locker. He couldn’t stop shivering.

“Can I - can I help?” Jeremy asked.

Kevin looked over sharply as if just remembering where they were and who they were with. His gaze softened.

“Warm him up,” Kevin instructed, wrapping a towel around Jean’s shoulders.

He walked a short ways away and opened a locker, pulling out a duffle bag. He placed folded sweatpants and a t-shirt on the bench near Jean.

He pulled the shirt over Jean’s head then asked quietly in French, “Can you stand?”

Jean nodded, looking a little disoriented, but stood.

“Do you want me to help you?”

He shook his head and Kevin stepped away, letting him drop his slacks and boxers to the ground. He pulled on the sweatpants Kevin gave him and began trembling again.

Kevin handed him his orange Fox hoodie and Jean pulled it on, wrapping his arms around himself. He sat back down and Jeremy moved so he was straddling the bench so he could get closer to Jean. He pulled him into a hug and rubbed at his arms to help him warm up.

“Are you okay?” Jeremy asked because he couldn’t think of anything else.

“I can think of a million places I’d rather be right now.”

“Last thing,” Kevin said. He dug through the small bag Wymack had given him and pulled out a bottle. “This will help.”

Jeremy walked up the stairs behind Jean who was more than tipsy. He tripped and Jeremy grabbed the back of the orange hoodie. “C’mon, Jean. We’re almost there.”

He gave a terse nod at the old couple who passed them in the hall looking more than a little judgmental. Jean stumbled into the door. He turned so his back was to the wall and started sinking to the ground.

“No, no!” Jeremy grabbed his arm to stop his descent.

Somehow he managed to keep a grip on Jean’s arm and turn the door handle while pulling out his key card. Jean banged into the table.

Kevin had told him, “We didn’t drink when we were with the Ravens.” Jeremy had thought it an odd thing to bring up but now he knew it had been a warning.

“Jean! That’s my be-ed - okay.”

“I’m hot,” Jean said, turning over to lie on his back. “Why’s it so hot in here?”

Jeremy felt the warmth in the pit of his stomach. Jean was hot. Jeremy was very painfully aware of the fact. He ignored the feeling and went to help Jean untangle himself from Kevin’s hoodie.

Jean pulled his hand in an attempt to get off the sleeve Jeremy was tugging. Jeremy gasped when the force had him falling atop of Jean. Jean groaned and Jeremy felt his face burning. “It’s the alcohol,” he said belatedly.

“What?”

“That’s why you’re hot - warm - shit.” Jeremy rolled off of him. He lay side by side with Jean for a moment. “We should get your shoes off.”

He stopped when he felt Jean’s hand on his arm. “Just - just stay where you are for a minute.”

“Jean?”

“Mm?”

“Are you okay?”

Jean didn’t respond. Jeremy was about to push himself up on his elbows to peek at his face when he sighed.

“Y’know, I was gonna kill myself?” Jean slurred, rolling his head to face Jeremy even though his eyes were closed. “Still might.”

“What?” Jeremy felt his heart fall and a burning cold sensation washed over his skin.

“It’s all I thought about after Kevin signed with the orange people. You know, when I realized he wasn’t coming back.” Jean took long pauses between sentences. “Every time Riko beat me, I thought, just do it.”

Jeremy held his breath. There were a million things he wanted to tell Jean but words and phrases got tangled in his mind and none of it made it to his mouth.

“I am a fucking dog,” Jean continued, his words almost incoherent but their bitterness nearly shattering Jeremy’s heart. “Waiting for his dead owner to come back. Pathetic. There’s nothing left -”

“You are not an animal,” Jeremy didn’t want to hear anymore. “You are not property. Humans don’t own other humans. You are a human. And you have a future.”

“You don’t understand,” Jean said and blindly grabbed for his arm.

Jeremy twisted his arm so he was holding Jean’s hand. “Kevin told me enough.”

“No one understands ...” Jean trailed off, going silent.

His breathing evened out and Jeremy squeezed his limp hand. “I’m trying to understand,” he whispered. “You’re not alone anymore.”

He watched Jean dozing for a long time. All he could think about was what he already knew of Jean’s time at Evermore and everything he still didn’t know. The not knowing was hard because it let his imagination run wild. From the little Kevin mentioned and the way Jean reacted to things, he knew there wasn’t really a line Riko wasn’t willing to cross.

Maybe he was better off not knowing. He had a feeling knowing wouldn’t stop him feeling nauseated every time he heard Riko’s name or saw the white scars on the back of Kevin’s hand or any time Jean reacted strangely to normal interactions or normal things.

A noise escaped past Jean’s lips and Jeremy pushed himself up onto an elbow. Jean’s eyes were still closed but his eyebrows were furrowed and his hand between them was squeezed into a fist.

“No, no,” Jean was whimpering. “Please. Don’t do this to me. Don’t let them -”

Jean flinched suddenly and tried to sit up. He looked around before his eyes settled back on Jeremy.

“I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“You and me both.” Jeremy muttered and stayed up the rest of the night watching Jean.

#aftg #tfc #jerejean

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julpux · 7 years

Text

Numb My Heart (Oswald Cobblepot/Victor Fries (Mr. Freeze)

Oswald finds cold comfort in the arms of one of his newest allies: Victor Fries aka Mr. Freeze. | Read on AO3

oneshot: 1575 words | warnings: mature content, rated NC-17

A big thank you goes to Kris for being my beta reader and for introducing me to this wonderfully strange little pairing. Also credit goes to the wonderful languageofbirds for providing fandom with the amazing idea of a temperature-regulating tea to get things... going between Freeze and Oswald.

Originally, Oswald's plan had merely consisted of getting Freeze to join his team.

But things had happened: a too-long-lingering gaze here, a prickling-cold touch there.

Eventually Oswald had found himself in increasingly intimate positions with Freeze.

Oswald isn't even surprised when it happens the first time. He hasn't been himself lately, almost drowning in the thick mixture of blind hatred along with the fiery-hot need for revenge - as well as a utterly broken and shattered heart.

Nygma.

Ed.

Oswald knows he's sought Freeze's companionship as some sort of stress relief. Because the icy-cold numbness spreading through him wasn't just restricted to his body - it helped a great deal with freezing his feelings as well.

"You're so warm," Victor groans, blue chapped lips grazing over the small bit of exposed skin on Oswald's chest. "Can't get enough of you."

Oswald resists the urge to roll his eyes. Jaw tense and brows furrowed, he spreads his thighs in hopes to give Freeze a hint of what he came here for originally.

This - gentle kissing, exploring each other - is not it.

It's something he would've loved to do with Ed. Back then, when his heart had still been intact.

Oswald squeezes his eyes shut, a small noise forming in the back of his throat as Victor's cool tongue begins to flick over his nipple.

No. He doesn't want this.

It should've been Ed.

He was the only one.

"Stop-" he finally says, squirming beneath the taller man.

Freeze pinches his brows together in a frown. "What? Is it too cold?" he asks, lips splitting into a grin.

This time, Oswald rolls his eyes.

"Just fuck me."

Freeze doesn't seem unhappy with that decision at all, grin stretching further. "As you wish, Ozzie."

With an exasperated sigh, Oswald rolls over onto his stomach, lifting his hips to assist Freeze who's pulling his pants down.

Oswald presses his body flat against his warmed up mattress, grimacing as a shower of goosebumps unfurls on his skin at the first contact of Victor's piercing cold fingers against his hole.

"W-wait," Oswald grits out, squirming away from the touch.

"Yeah, yeah-- sorry," Freeze mumbles before pressing a quick kiss onto the nape of Oswald's neck - causing another shudder.

He gets up from the bed, bare feet tapping against the wooden floor as he walks over to the small round coffee table in the corner of Oswald's bedroom.

It's occupied by a vase with lillies and - in these days more often - also a murky looking bottle full with a dark green liquid.

It’s a liquid he’s gotten Ivy to make for him - or, well, for Victor. A herbal asset to regulate the man’s body temperature to a normal level - even if only temporarily until the effects would subdue.

Oswald however never wants Freeze to get too warm - too human. Because there’s

a fear inside him, that it might feel too comfortable - too safe, just like it once had felt with Ed.

After taking a couple of sips, Victor's skin slowly begins to fade into something that almost resembles that of a normal human being, yet still remaining extraordinarily pale.

Oswald tries his best not to ogle, but Victor is naked after all. And he really doesn’t have it in him to tear his gaze away from the well-built body just a few feet away from him.

Especially not from Freeze’s very impressive cock.

And despite the coldness of Victor’s touch still lingering on his skin, Oswald feels a sudden rush of warmth flooding him, gut squeezing tight at the mere thought of that cock being inside of him again.

Right on cue, Victor places the now half-empty bottle back onto the table and shoots him a grin before he makes his way back to the bed.

The mattress dips. “Better?" Victor asks, placing his hand on the narrow curve of Oswald's hip.

"Yes," Oswald replies but not without a small hiss at the touch.

It's still cold. But in a way Oswald can endure; where he can still find pleasure without it feeling too good.

Victor gives his hip a small squeeze before pulling away. Moments later, Oswald’s ears perk at the familiar sound of a bottle cap popping open.

It’s time. He presses his lips together, spreading his legs as far as he can without causing himself too much pain - and there it is.

A small gasp escapes Oswald when Victor’s finger, cold and now slick with lube, enters him. His first instinct is to press his thighs together and push the other man off him, no matter how often they’ve done it at this point.

But like always, Oswald manages to remain calm, gripping the sheets until his knuckles have turned white. His reward comes soon after, once his body has grown accustomed to the odd intrusion - little sparks of pleasure that rush through him and the familiar sensation of tingling warmth that begins to pool in his belly,

“Stop- that’s enough,“ Oswald huffs out, cheeks glowing pink and cock throbbing from where it’s trapped between his stomach and the mattress.

“Okay,“ Victor breathes, quickly withdrawing his finger and reaching for the bottle of lube anew. Oswald keeps looking over his shoulder, eyes drawn to the thick length of Victor’s cock, now glistening wet with lube.

The mattress dips a little as Victor positions himself, cock in his hand and nudging against the small tight ring of muscle nestled between Oswald’s cheeks.

The stretch when Victor begins to push inside is almost too much for a moment, and Oswald can’t help but drop his mouth open in a stuttered gasp, followed by a whimper.

“That’s it,“ Victor groans above him, fingers digging into the flesh of his hip as he eases the whole dripping-cold length of his cock inside. “Fuck- so tight.“

Oswald moans weakly, ass throbbing around the wide blunt stretch, coldness numbing but also piercing through him once Victor is buried all the way inside of him.

“Oswald- fuck, so damn tight,“ Victor pants, running his hands over Oswald’s arched back in a soothing gesture. “So good.“

Oswald can do nothing but whine softly at the praise, a part of him trying to dig up the many many fantasies he’s had about Ed doing this to him, about Ed praising him like this - thankfully, he doesn’t get to dwell on that for much longer.

“A-ah,“ Oswald cries, eyes widening when Victor begins to move his hips, mixing the cool slick drag of his cock with brisk heat that flares up inside of him with every thrust.

“Yes, that’s it, take it,“ Victor growls, and that’s Oswald’s favorite part. The part where he can forget just everything.

Victor presses him down into the mattress, hips snapping forward almost feverishly, both of them yearning to reach the maximum of pleasure.

For Oswald it’s this - getting fucked face down by a strong man, allowing himself to just let go. It’s an incredibly vulnerable position to be in, and a risk comes with that, Oswald knows that.

But he also knows that Victor is just as desperate as him, having lived the past months in absolute isolation and with a heart just as battered as his.

They both need each other.

So, screw it.

“Ugh- fuck, yes, god, you take it so good,“ Victor moans, pounding into Oswald in earnest now, the sound of their skin smacking together mixing with small mewls and cries Oswald no longer tries to hold back.

In the end, words begin to bubble out of him, words Oswald usually keeps hidden in the darkest most secrets parts of him.

“Fuck me yes- harder. Victor, come on, fuck me, fuck me-”

And for a moment, Oswald’s mind slips - to a place it shouldn’t go.

Ed.

Everything inside of Oswald squeezes tight, heart pounding quick and heat surging through his veins and down to his ass and cock and balls - fiery hot.

“Ed…“

Oswald comes with a hoarse scream then, clamping down around the cold thick length inside of him while his own cock pulses, spilling all over his stomach and soaking the mattress below him.

“Fuck- fuck-” Victor comes with a loud groan, pressing his cold damp forehead against Oswald’s neck as his hips stutter and he presses in deep, filling Oswald with dripping-cold come.

Oswald’s whole face twists with discomfort, body shuddering and squirming as the numbing coldness seeps through him.

Along with the shame. The shame of what he’s allowed himself to think, to feel, to say.

He barely registers Victor pulling out of him, nor the thick blanket being draped over his shivering body.

“You want something to drink? Or eat? Maybe some warm soup?“

Oswald blinks, lids heavy and chest clenching. “What?“

Victor, sitting at the edge of the bed, gives a little shrug and grins. “I guess you could use something to warm you up after…you know.“

Oswald squints his eyes in annoyance, but there’s a small smile tugging on his lips now as well. He tries to get rid of it by pouting, which only seems to amuse Freeze more than anything.

After a short moment, Oswald finally gives in. “Fine, okay,“ he mumbles, rolling his eyes and pulling the covers up to his chin. “Bring me a Hot Cocoa. With an extra big spoonful of Whipped Cream.“

And as Victor leaves with a small chuckle, Oswald wonders if it’s just the blanket around him warming him up, or if it’s something else.

#backwardabyss #languageofbirds #freezewald #gotham fic #my writing #lmao don't worry guys i loooove nygmobblepot #but i'm a shameless multishipper #give oswald all the love #even if it's in the form of some ice cold dick #sdhjfkfsdksf #sorry

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