hi! I saw you reblog a post saying you wanted requests for a fanfic? I love your writing and I think it would be really cool if you wrote this đđđ„șđ lol đđ a fanfic I've always wanted to read would be a Trafalgar Law x Succubus!Reader, where the reader ate the succubus no mi but is a virgin and gets flustered easily and uses her aphrodisiac pheromones to basically order people about. but Law gets caught in it by accident during a fight and instead of listening to her orders (since he doesn't listen to people's orders, he is a Captain after all) he follows his lust and Rooms them out of the battlefield. thus causing them to both confess during the NSFW deed and ending with them both cuddling but reader is flustered and Law is embarrassed by the way he acted (but doesn't regret it lol). bonus part being the crew going "fucking finally, jfc...but couldn't they have picked a better time??" đ€Łđ€Ł
hiiiii thank u for being patient, this def was a a journey to write! i rewrote it so many times à«źâ˶ âą. âą â
âá but i like it! i hope you enjoy <3
4.8k words, fem reader, nsfw, 18+ mdni, a lil angst, a bit of fluff if you're a professional pretender; features cute things like oral (f receiving), fingering, other stuff, etc. law is obviously battling her devil fruit to see who's the bigger menace in her life.
a mantra that was instilled in you years and years ago â one that sits on your mind all day and night â is that your devil fruit power is a curse. your mother tells you as much when she sees how easily people are captivated by you; and while you donât always mean to, you manage to compel others with ease. her envy knows no bounds, and you develop a complex and irreparable relationship with her. because the sea is a much more accepting and freeing place, you leave home sooner than necessary; despite the grief that marinates deep inside of your motherâs polarized emotions, a small part of her refuses to let you go. but, when she remembers the fury that accompanies her jealousy, she sends you off with a few flippant and melancholic words.
you donât initially intend on engaging in a life of piracy, but it turns out that the sea is also a terrifying and selfish beast â traveling alone isnât exactly the smartest idea, nor has it been easy, but you do eventually make it to an island that is well-known for its trading port. maybe youâll find refuge there.
the main part of the town is vibrant, lively, and full of tourists. the townspeople are direct and loud, but also good-natured and amiable. the weather is tolerable, a little hot, but nothing you canât handle. you love the way the sun warms your skin, and youâre sure that the onlookers gawking at you love it too. the townspeople arenât exactly against pirates visiting â money is money, essentially â but given the proximity of the nearest naval base, most pirates know to avoid the island if they can.
law, unfortunately, is too stubborn to care about things like that; and since the polar tang is a submarine, he takes a few precautions to avoid detection. because of his notoriety, he opts to stay on board, sending bepo and a few others onto the island to gather supplies in his stead. itâs a relatively simple mission, one he knows theyâll execute without issue, but a sinking feeling swirls around his stomach. something will happen, heâs sure of it; he just hopes itâs not something life-threatening.
youâre in the middle of shopping, the owner of the boutique bringing you various outfits to try on; sheâs enthralled, overly eager, and just a tad too obvious with her attraction â you didnât even really try, your powers just get easier to use as time goes on. itâs only after youâve succeeded in convincing the woman to let you have the clothes for free, that you walk out of the boutique with a sly smile on your face, a few strands of hair gliding against your cheek as the wind blows. you donât normally try to compel others for petty things like that, but you really donât have the money to buy anything right now.
the bags weigh heavily on your arms, but you refuse to let any residual guilt rob you of your indulgences. you spot a small group of pirates, talking amongst themselves, attracting more attention than they probably mean to. you figure theyâre not anyone of importance, but something tells you to stay put; itâs then that you notice the familiar insignia, that you craft a plan. itâs dangerous for you to use your powers like that, but desperate times call for desperate measures, right? you know that infiltrating a pirate crew like theirs is the best way to survive in this sort of world.
letting out a soft sigh, you walk towards them and remind yourself to channel the sultry siren your mother painted you as; itâs not a confidence issue, itâs more that youâre usually afraid someone will see through your rouse, that theyâll know youâre not as experienced as they assume you are. it never bothered you until you grew older, but youâre definitely not equipped to deal with anyone who can withstand the impossibly irresistible pheromones you intentionally emit.Â
itâs bepo that falls victim first, the others soon after; heâs stuttering and blushing, and you canât help but smile sweetly at that. youâre usually the one who canât handle the straight-forward reactions of most, even though you hide it behind a well-crafted poker face, so itâs a nice change to see it in action.Â
âlet me join your crew,â you say softly, voice melodic, the lilt thick like honey, drizzling over them repeatedly, until theyâre so enamored all they can do is say yes simultaneously.
he anticipated a small margin of error, but not to this extent.
âwalk me through this again,â he says through clenched teeth, fingers pinching the space between his eyes, his anger bubbling as he leans against the wall. he tries to keep his voice steady, doing his best to stop himself from fighting each one of them for their stupidity, but it gets increasingly difficult with each passing second. his dark aura shocks them into silence, so he fixes his eyes on bepo.Â
âw-well, captain, iâm not really sure how it happened.â which is the truth, he doesnât; all he remembers is feeling very light and full at the same time; a fuzzy haze slowing his reactions, which is what gave you the perfect opening. in hindsight, you do feel a little bad; the crew seems decent, more or less, and you donât intend on staying long, nor do you intend on using your powers on them like that. but, law doesnât believe that. he thinks youâre much more manipulative than you want to admit; why else, despite his mumbled protests, he begrudgingly agrees to you joining them.
an 80 day probationary period is in effect for you, of course. if you violate any of the rules heâs established, heâll kick you out without question â and that will be the lightest punishment youâll receive on board the polar tang.
you have no choice but to follow through with his ridiculousness, hating that his hawkish gaze his absolutely unbearable, your face heating painfully as you try to avoid looking his way. he thinks the demureness youâre exhibiting is an act, so he stalks over towards you, his strides careful and measured. for some reason, your brain is stuck, so you donât move; instead your mouth parts, your words sitting at the back of your throat, unable to come up any further.
âeveryone,â he says loud enough for crew members that were still in the room, âout.â without needing to be told twice, they dissipate; you curse their cowardice, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you try to convince yourself to keep it together. heâs just one person, you tell yourself, the words a fast-acting form of relief, until you remember that heâs also an incredibly strong, infamous pirate captain.
still thereâs really no reason for you to cower in his presence, right?
itâs painfully obvious that youâre childish and that youâre not used to being told no; law can tell from the way youâre fluttering your lashes at him. it wonât work, it wonât work â it wonât work. itâs what he tells himself as his jaw clenches, what he keeps telling himself when he grabs your face, holding you still, forcing you to look at him. itâs not necessary, thereâs no way to avoid him when heâs that close to you.
âtheyâre gullible idiots,â his voice is low, the words cutting into you sharply, âbut iâm not. try that shit again, and youâll live to regret it.â he lets you go quickly, as if his hand was burned from the contact â and maybe it was, since your body canât seem to cool off. throat dry, you place your hands on your cheeks, pressing against them gently, as if you have to remind yourself that yes that just happened. if you think youâll have an easy time being a member of his crew, youâre horribly mistaken.
law heads back to his office, fuming â slamming the metal door behind him, the noise ricocheting fiercely around the room. heâs blinded by a severe bout of irritation that stems from his inability to come to terms with the fact that he finds you attractive. he decides that the best way to deal with you, is to simply act as if you donât affect him; heâs very good at suppressing his desires, has a talent for lying about the things he truly wants â this will be a piece of cake.
hopefully.
the first few weeks are tricky; you get used to the swing of things rather quickly, bonding with the other crew members, gaining a bit more control of your power â much to their amusement and horror â and using it against enemy pirates whenever possible. but you find that youâre finding less of a reason to stop commanding people each time. law notices this, of course, pulling you aside to remind you of what he told you when you first arrived.
you do your best to act aloof, but his presence always throws you off; every time you walk past one another or whenever he touches you like that â no matter how brief it is â youâre stuck in a confusing loop, thoughts muddled, self-preservation completely out of the window as a sickeningly sweet warmth creeps into your chest. and, because you donât know how to deal with those complicated feelings, you spark an argument that distracts him from staring at you like that â like heâs very close to figuring you out, a lucrative goal for a man as insistent and inquisitive as him.
you donât like that; donât like the way heâs always stoic, rude, mean â but not necessarily in a way that causes actual distress â or the way he seems to active avoid being near you whenever possible. you almost ask if youâve done something to offend him, but that would mean having a conversation with him alone â and youâre not sure how much longer you can keep sane, you might accidentally blurt out something weird or personal. not that it would be the first time. he always seems to bring that out in you; the compulsion to bare yourself to him, in more ways than one, grows with each interaction.Â
try as they might, your crew mates cannot find a way to bring you two together â itâs hilarious, wholly too obvious, that law likes you more than he can stomach. itâs why he always seems to be annoyed with you, why he has a habit of ordering you around more than he does the others, and why he absolutely cannot be in your presence for longer than a few minutes at a time. the urge to touch you, to see more of those bashful reactions â where you canât seem to talk in complete sentences, fidget with your hands, drop things, trip over flat surfaces â they overwhelm him, so he keeps his distance.
which is harder than he originally thought. still, he perseveres, much to the chagrin of his crew; theyâre tired of whatever game of cat and mouse the two of you are playing, at times wanting to lock the two of you into a room just so you can figure it out.
they never do, of course â they have a little more tact than that.
it doesnât mean that they donât make comments disguised as jokes whenever they can, which annoys you because youâre very certain that law isnât into you the way youâre into him. if he was, then he wouldnât cut you off whenever you have the upper hand in the numerous fights you have, he wouldnât get in your face and throw you off, he wouldnât look at you as if he was close to shoving you against a wall andâ
you stop those thoughts before you get ahead of yourself like you tend to do these days, and instead focus on not fucking anything up.
but, as fate is rarely on your side when you need it to be, you make the one mistake that you promised you wouldnât make. itâs in the middle of a battle with an enemy group that wasnât necessarily strong, but they were persistent and outnumbered your crew. you fight as hard as you can, until you decide to put your devil fruit to work; that familiar sensation fills your body, where you feel time slow down, where you can possibly command a group of people within specific parameters. itâs meant to trip them up, to make them retreat and stop fighting altogether. youâve been careful, but this time you overestimate, and you didnât expect law to head in that direction, but he does.
it tickles, really, he almost doesnât feel it; your voice rings loudly in his ears, forcing him to pause and ignore the battle. he gives you a sharp look, his eyes narrowing in suspicion, the shock on your face gives you away. a rookie mistake, youâll realize later on.
âwait, law, iâm⊠fuck, iâm so sorry.â you canât take it back, once a command is said, theyâre to follow it through no matter what. youâre sure heâs ready to cut your head off, but he just keeps staring at you â with the same sort of look he gives you whenever youâre saying something you know will set him off. you donât know if that means heâs thinking things over, or if heâs already decided your fate. not one for predictability when heâs rattled, law doesnât actually know what possesses him, but before he knows it, heâs teleported both of you away from the battlefield. itâs irrational, whatever compelled him; and heâs pissed about it.Â
why are you always serving as the worst kind of distraction for him? heâs a captain of a pirate group, he doesnât have time for distractions â and, really, he doesnât have time for you either. yet here he is, with you in his room, on the mostly empty polar tang, completely ignoring the fact that he left his crew to fend for themselves.
heâs sure that if he doesnât act now, heâll fall apart at the seams; before you can ask him why, he kisses you. the question vanishes from your mouth, swallowed entirely by him as his tongue caresses yours, a feverish feeling taking hold of you as you grab onto the front of his shirt â almost as if itâs a lifeline and youâre desperate not to float away.
there are plenty of things he wants to tell you, but canât at the moment; heâs much too invested in exploring your mouth thoroughly, in his hands roaming along your body, grabbing on your ass firmly â a move that leaves you breathless and panting. a fog hovers around you, making it nearly impossible to think rationally. you know you should slow down, probably talk things out with him. if he hadnât come into your attack range, he wouldnât be this affected right now.
you pull away from him, eyes widening, as you look at him half in a daze and half concerned.
âwe should s-stop,â you manage to say, swallowing hard as you place your palms on his chest and give him a light push. he watches you, eyes darkening, churning with an unbridled lust that might actually take his life if he doesnât find a way to take care of it soon. âyou donât really want me, itâs just my devil fââ
law sighs loudly, effectively cutting you off, which only makes you snap your mouth shut and glare at him. youâre so embarrassed; itâs bad enough that he only wants you because youâre devil fruit power is difficult to resist, but now heâs making it hard to talk and explain things. you feel your heart sit heavily in your chest, heartbeat loud enough to put you on edge.
âyouâre mistaken, y/n,â he starts, voice low and husky, as he pushes you onto his bed roughly.
again, youâre at a loss for words; your brain attempts several times to get back on track, but law is climbing on top of the bed and hovering over you, making everything complicated and maddening. his body heat makes you want to press closer to him, but you refrain, and find the words to articulate yourself properly.
âwhat do you mean?â
he lets another sigh slip before chuckling darkly, a sly smile tugging on his lips as he brushes his thumb against your lip.Â
âyour power doesnât affect me.â his explanation is so simple, you almost donât believe him. your face must reflect that sentiment, because he clarifies. âthereâs no one who can tell me what the fuck to do without my say so.â which isnât entirely true, but you donât point that out, since law will only follow someone elseâs command if it aligns with his own interests.
âso this whole time?â youâve been worrying yourself to death, thinking he was in danger around you, when he was completely fine. he doesnât answer you â and why should he? itâs not actually important. he also doesnât want to talk, heâs pissed about a lot of things. for one, he was distracted while fighting and youâre the cause of that distraction; he took the opportunity because he knew his crew could handle themselves without issue. besides, this is a rare time where heâll be able to have you to himself without interruption.
his mouth is on yours again, giving you a long, lingering kiss, one that sends a jolt of arousal that rapidly spreads a warmth through your body all the way down to your toes. you canât believe itâs happening; youâve dreamt of this moment, but you never expected it to actually come true. itâs a little less gentle and romantic than youâd like, but nonetheless youâre just as excited to be able to touch and kiss him like this.
law doesnât bother with niceties, he yanks your clothes off impatiently and you do the same for him. limbs tangled with his, hands sifting through his hair, grabbing onto the short strands when lawâs mouth makes a treacherous descent down your body. he trails kisses on various spots on your neck, your breasts, stomach â tongue licking, teeth biting, the marks a pleasant reminder of this moment that youâre sharing with him. your back arches as your soft whimpering turns into moaning once his lips ghost along the inner part of your thigh. he caresses the skin, running his tongue up higher until he reaches your pussy.
you open your mouth to tell him â that youâve never done this before, that while you have a basic idea of the mechanics, you donât actually know. perceptive as ever, law simply shoots you a knowing look before gliding his tongue against your slit. you shiver at his touch, stammering over your words as you softly call out his name, legs spreading to give him more room. as someone who relishes in having control over himself, situations, and the lives of others, heâs acting rather impulsively right now.
he busies himself by burying his face in between your thighs, tongue parting your moist folds, arousal trickling onto his chin. his cock stiffens and if he wasnât so invested in eating your pussy, heâd probably be stroking himself. your hips buck up against his face, your moans getting louder when he slips his tongue inside of your tight entrance, desperately wanting to taste you even more. he doesnât know if itâs because heâs been holding himself back for so long, or because he just wants you â or both, perhaps.
whichever it is, itâs the driving force behind him swapping his tongue for his finger; he slides one inside of you slowly, tongue flicking against your clit before circling around it slowly, his finger sliding in and out of you slowly. your plush walls squeeze around him, especially when he starts sucking on your clit; you beg him to give you more, wanting him to command your body in a way that only he can. youâre not even exactly sure of what that is, but youâre so tired of not knowing; law slips another finger inside of you, giving you a moment to adjust to the intrusion.
you roll your hips against his hand, a breathy moan flying out of your mouth when he picks up the pace, scissoring his fingers inside of your needy cunt, your wetness gliding down his fingers and palm. you donât think you can feel hotter until his tongue bullies your clit again, merciless with each stroke, his wrist angling as his fingers fuck you faster. âohâŠfuck, yes, please donât stopâŠâ youâll beg if you have to, thatâs how deep your depravity goes, apparently.
itâs when he sucks on your clit that your orgasm takes you by surprise; you cum hard, thighs and hips shaking, pussy dripping as law laps it all up. you almost want to push him away, but you know damn well that a man like law has an insatiable way about him.
and youâre right, he does.
he gives you a heated look, tongue gliding along his lips as his hand wraps around his hardened length. you look up at him through your thick lashes, breath uneven as you watch pre-cum spill out from his slit, the thick head of his cock a tempting, devilish thing that rubs against your pussy almost possessively. another shiver ripples through your body, nipples hard, a different unfamiliar ache passing between your legs.Â
âi donât think youâre aware of just how much you affect me,â he says, another bout of irritation rising within him, although this one is tame and much more manageable.
you roll your eyes at him, squirm underneath his hold, but offer back a slick retort in response. âi thought you said i donât affect you.â you wonder if heâs just been playing with you this whole time.
law nudges his tip inside of you, bit by bit, slow and tortuous, the pain barely noticeable as he plays with your nipples, his teeth tugging on them, mouth sucking forcefully â like heâd rather do nothing but taste every part of your body. âyouâre not listening,â he says before thrusting into you fully, burying his length into your pussy without remorse, eyes softening briefly as he watches you. âi said that your power doesnât affect me.â
thereâs a distinction there.
you donât know what to say, but you do feel foolish â for thinking he didnât want you, for thinking that the only reason he could possibly want you is because you compelled him. he pulls his hips back and snaps them against yours roughly, and you moan his name over and over, until all you can think about is the way lawâs thick cock fills you up, of the way your pussy fits so snugly around him â something that makes him want to fuck you until youâre both too tired to move.
âiâŠ,â you lick your lips, voice soft, panting lightly as your hips move in tandem with his, legs wrapping around his waist, holding him closer to you, wanting him to go deeper. âi⊠like you. a lot.â probably more than a lot, but he doesnât need to know that. he doesnât know why youâre telling him that, it was obvious from the way you reacted to him kissing you that you felt the same way as he did. it mightâve taken him some time, but lawâs like that â always wants to put in work to ensure that he comes to an appropriate conclusion before acting.
you rake your nails down his arms as his hips jerk against yours roughly, his pace picking up, his thrusts deeper and graceful. the way his balls slap against you, makes you burn all over again; youâre not sure if itâs out of shame because the sound is turning you on even more, or if itâs because you realize that youâve been missing out on so much. still, youâre quite happy that itâs law youâre being intimate like this with; youâre not naive enough to believe the universe paired you together intentionally, but the idea is a comforting one.
he kisses you sloppily, groaning as he gives you open-mouthed kisses. before you know it, law pulls out and flips you onto your stomach. youâre in such a daze that you comply right away, he admires the shape of your ass, the width of your hips, the curves along the rest of your body; law drops a kiss onto the middle of your back. itâs much too intimate for his taste, but he couldnât stop himself from doing it.Â
after letting out a very audible moan, his voice is harsh, full of lust, when he mutters, âfuck,â under his breath, sliding his cock inside your pussy and enjoying the sweet sensation all over again. if he had to choose between fighting alongside his crew against a weak, annoying pirate group, and fucking you â heâd choose you time and time again. itâs a troubling thought, but he wonât revisit it anytime soon. for now, heâs focused solely on making sure you cum again.
leaning closer, chest barely touching you as his hips bump against your ass, burrowing his cock deeply inside of you. your hips move on their own, meeting his hasty thrusts with vigor, wanting to him to fuck you hard enough that youâll feel it for days â and if you had more time on your hands, he probably would. but thatâll have to wait for another day. law presses a kiss against your jaw, heart thudding, making him feel uneasy, but he swallows that down and focuses on the way youâre squeezing around his cock tight enough to incapacitate a weaker man.
he whispers filthy, impractical things, like âif you keep clenching around me like that, i wonât last much longerâ and, âyouâre taking me so wellâ, and also, âyour pussy is so greedy, sucking me in like that.â the last one takes you by surprise, to the point that youâre too bashful to respond, which, for some unknowable reason, strikes him as adorable. and if he was in a better state of mind, heâd retract that statement; but it hangs around his head, taunting him with each thrust of his hips, reminding him that having feelings like that is dangerous and that someone like you could compromise everything heâs worked hard for.Â
but, heâs tired of that sort of paranoia dictating how his life should go; he ignores those pesky thoughts and presses a kiss on your shoulder. maybe itâs because your pussy finally tapped out, or maybe itâs because that gesture alone practically incapacitates you â your heart and head full of silly notions â but another orgasm finds you, leaving you a sweaty, panting mess, voice plenty hoarse from how loud you were.
his own orgasm is close by; law gives you short, frenzied thrusts, calling out your name tenderly, making your whole body flush with awareness, pussy clenching around him again when he teeters over the edge, cumming thickly inside you. because of the forcefulness of his thrusts, youâre bucking your hips against him again, body sensitive but craving more of him. you donât know if itâs the devil fruit, or just him but you canât get enough. and while law would love to indulge you, he knows that the rest of the crew will be back sometime soon â and heâd rather avoid the awkward conversation that will inevitably happen when they find out.
he collapses onto the bed next to you, arm wrapping around you lazily as you press closely to him. you can barely look at him â and you donât know what to say, either; there are too many thoughts buzzing through you, but thankfully he wonât press you for details. a sense of clarity that tends to hit post-orgasm settles inside of him, clearing some of the fog from his head. itâs with great embarrassment that he realizes he actually abandoned the crew to come fuck you; highly impractical, unethical, and plain wrong. does he regret it? no, absolutely not. but, still, heâs been with his crew for so long, they deserve much better than that. he doesnât get much time to stew, as thereâs a loud banging on his door.
assuming the worst, law quickly puts his pants on and rushes to open the door. the crew is mostly gathered outside of the room, and itâs bepo who chastises law for being rash and for not coming back sooner.
âdid you lose?â
bepo shakes his head quickly, mouth opening to offer a rebuttal, but law sucks his teeth, annoyance filling his head again as he slams the door in their faces. like he said previously, a bunch of idiots. you try not to laugh, but the situation is pretty fucking funny.Â
unbeknownst to the both of you, your crew mates took bets on how long it would take before the two of you finally hooked up, raucous cheering further pissing law off as he makes his way back to his bed, the reality of him having to deal with them and their insufferable comments later on just makes him groan loudly.Â
he really does have terrible timing.
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what can I say // to make me exist
I've never written anything for Reddie before, but basically they've ruined my life lmao. I wrote this entire thing while listening to the Euphoria soundtrack so here you are đ Anyone else still reading this pairing in 2022??
AnywaY I'm so nervous to post but I can't look at this anymore; little rushed as I'm just heading out but wanted this up today, so let me know if any formatting is off and I'll edit later (but like, please nicely bc i am v sensitive thank u bless)! đ
Eddie x Richie
Disclaimer: Characters arenât mine, just the fic!
Word count: ~ 6000
Warnings: Sexual content, 18+ (also filthy language bc of who the characters are as people)
Chapter one of two (second chap is written & in edits)
On AO3 here
The dog days of summer have been unbearable for as long as Eddie can remember.
Endless days stretching into restless nights, the burning sun a looming threat overhead. He hates how easily he overheats, damp air curling his hair at his ears, skin sticky and grimy no matter how often he showers. Itâs insufferable and his temper simmers close to the surface, even more so than normal.
This year it seems even worse than usual; oppressive heat boiling hotter and hotter as the week drags on, and the air conditioning at Eddieâs office has been broken for nearly the entire time. With each passing day the temperature has been steadily increasing. There is a shimmering cloud of steam that seems to rise from the pavement itself, humidity so thick that itâs nearly tangible. Before Eddie even sits down at his desk in the morning heâs already shifting unhappily in his suit, sweat beading at his brow, chest tight from the muggy air.
The city is aching for a good rain, the kind that seems to wash everything clean and fresh. Weather reporters have been predicting a summer storm for days now, but instead the sun continues to beat down, relentless, and Eddie canât fucking breathe. Heâs jittery, on edge, trying to focus on the work in front of him but only succeeding in staring at a blank document. As the afternoon comes to a close, he just canât take it anymore, and makes his way down the hall to the washroom to splash some cold water on his face. On his way back he overhears Sharon on the phone at the front desk, catching enough of the broken conversation to suss out that there wonât be anyone available to come in to fix the a/c until Monday.
Itâs currently Wednesday.
Eddie doesnât know if the heat really is getting to him and frying his brain cells, but thereâs something building in him with every degree that the thermometer ticks up. A seething, smoldering sensation, setting his teeth on edge; he yanks at his tie in frustration. Thereâs an itch he canât scratch, right under the surface - a niggling at the back of his brain. An infuriating little voice that tells him that heâs missing something. That there is something important just beyond his reach, and Eddieâs not sure if the misery of late summer is to blame or perhaps something else entirely, but he just feels -
Reckless.
Reckless enough that when Myra calls him to confirm their date for that night, he pauses. The words leave his mouth without conscious thought, calmly telling her that heâs feeling a bit sick and would they be able to reschedule? He canât even bring himself to feel ashamed that itâs only their third outing and heâs already making up excuses; a sigh of relief escapes when she wishes him a speedy recovery and hangs up. Itâs not fair to her to lie, but Eddie truly canât stomach the thought of sitting across from her, making polite conversation for an entire evening. He runs his fingers through his hair in a nervous tic, annoyed with himself only moments later when he realizes that heâs messed up the carefully gelled back style.
God. Itâs so fucking warm.
Since heâs wasted nearly the entire day on the cusp of a breakdown, heâs determined to finish a proposal before leaving for the night; there is no reason to rush home anymore, and Eddie has squandered nearly the entire day consumed by his own distraction. Heâs attempting to swallow down the pathetic excuse for a salad he bought for supper when a knock on his door startles him.
His boss, Andrew, pokes his head in. âStill here, champ?â
Champ. Jesus, what a moron.
âYeah,â Eddie attempts to paste a smile on his face but itâs bland and half-hearted at best. âJust finishing up.â
âDonât work too hard. Edward! Youâll make the rest of us look bad!â He throws his head back with a grating laugh and a throbbing headache blooms right between Eddieâs temples.
The remainder of his coworkers trickle out slowly as the clock ticks on. By the time heâs finished with the proposal, nearly starting a fistfight with the copier in the process, itâs well into the evening; city lights growing brighter outside his window.
It isnât until he steps onto the sidewalk outside that he realizes he still doesnât want to go home just yet. The sky is tinted gray and dark clouds brew in the distance. It seems that the predicted storm is finally on the horizon, the smell of rain heavy in his nose when he inhales. The hair on the back of his neck nearly stands on end at an ominous rumble from above. Wind whips at his cheeks, still warm, without the impending chill. Eddie takes a shuddering breath in, the heat still weighing solid on his shoulders. Agitated, he strips off his blazer, carelessly slinging it over his arm. The tie follows, yanking it off with such force that he gets an odd look from a passing lady who appears old enough to be his grandmother.
Anxious energy still rattles through him, knocking incessantly behind his ribs, so he starts walking in an effort to burn it out of his system. He walks and walks, until the neighborhood becomes less familiar around him, searching for something but he doesnât know what; doesnât know why it feels impossible for him to turn around. Itâs as though there is something out there calling for him tonight, a siren in the distance, whirling enticingly just beyond his reach. The heat still hasnât broken even as low thunder rolls again, and Eddie hastily shoves up his sleeves to the elbow, that shaky tension returning tenfold. Storms always reminded him of childhood, though he couldnât say why.
Doesnât fucking remember anyway.
His shirt is nearly plastered to him and he hates the sensation. God fuck, itâs hot and he can feel that energy is close to breaking (thought he canât quite tell if itâs from the coming storm or the troubling thoughts inside him). Thereâs apprehension wound tight in the air, lightning ready to strike at any minute, static current crackling above. Heâs out of control, knows it, even as he continues down the street. He just wants something, is waiting for something; for the other shoe to drop, for anything. He just canât fucking breathe in the suffocating heat, canât get the oxygen deep enough into his lungs. At this point he would give nearly anything for the cool rain on his skin, to experience some crumb of relief, but the sky has yet to open up and Eddie is spiraling into a panic attack; the setting sun pings off a sign directly into his eye. He stops abruptly in the middle of the sidewalk.
There is a bar in front of him, run down but inviting.
He shouldnât.
Eddie really wants a fucking drink though.
It doesnât look like much inside, the door thudding heavily behind him. Eddie starts when it swings shut. Cool air hits him in a rush, overwhelming in itâs reprieve. He stands in the entrance for a moment, frozen while he inhales deep before slowly making his way further in. The lighting is dim, giving an almost otherworldly ambiance to the place. Itâs clearly not a new establishment, decor not modern by any means, but Eddie likes it. Something about it rings of sincerity and it seems clean enough for his standards, inspecting the area intently before sitting down at the far corner of the bar. There's a moment when he goes to order that the words get caught in his throat. Itâs been so long since heâs been out just on his own, not suckered into sipping a glass of red wine while enduring painful conversations with his coworkers or over a stilted dinner date. He doesnât really remember what he used to drink in college, despite only being graduated for a handful of years.
Most of college is a blur actually, the years passing as if they belonged to someone else.
He settles on a rum and coke, the sudden burn staggering. Eddie likes that too, savouring the sting, and once heâs halfway done with the glass he finds the racing thoughts of what this could be doing to his liver fizzle out (the nagging voice at the back of his head that sounds an awful lot like his late mother, may she rest in fucking peace). The room isnât full, unsurprising considering itâs a weekday; most of the booths are occupied by clusters of two to three people quietly talking amongst themselves. Thereâs a handful of single patrons seated along the bar, but no one glances Eddieâs way, even the bartender focused elsewhere. Music plays overhead, barely legible; itâs strangely comforting to be alone with so many other people.
He canât say what draws his gaze, but when the front door thuds shut he turns with the noise. The sky is still steadily darkening outside, wind picking up from the looks of it, but thatâs not what has Eddie staring. A man is framed in the doorway, silhouette highlighted by the shitty lighting, and Eddieâs stomach drops so hard that he has to grip the edge of the counter to ground himself. Broad shoulders stretched wide under the most revolting button-up heâs ever seen, legs a mile long. Heâs far enough away that Eddie canât quite see the details of his face, but his eyes catch on a sharp jaw, dark curls just long enough to brush the back of his collar. His whole body lights up immediately just from a glance , and a shivery breath slides out of his mouth.
Eddieâs throat is dry from the sight of him.
He hastily tears his gaze away, hoping he wasnât looking for too long. Jesus. He swallows a large mouthful of his drink, coughing slightly when it scorches his throat on the way down.
Heâs ordering another drink before heâs quite finished with the first.
Eddie refuses to look up again, staring hard down into his glass, cheeks burning for no reason at all. There's a steady thrum under his skin now, and Eddie doesnât quite know if itâs from the alcohol or something else entirely. Shifting in his seat, trying hard not to think of anything, keeping everything blank. Just wants his mind fucking quiet for once.
His focus is so intent on not thinking that he doesnât notice the presence beside him, until there is a brush of fabric at his elbow. Eddie glances over sharply; a stranger is seated one stool over from him, leaning across the counter to speak to the bartender. Itâs the same man from before, and Eddie attempts to appear unaffected, but he canât keep his goddamn eyes away, drawn in like a moth to a flame. The fabric of his shirt is even more of an affront to his vision up close.
Eddie tries and fails not to notice their proximity, caught by the stretch of those (big, so fucking big) shoulders, close enough to touch. He crosses his ankles, searing all over with the need to reach out before he mercilessly tamps down on the desire.
The stranger turns to him then, drink in hand and the light bounces off his glasses. Eddie is thrown for a moment, sudden memories of echoing laughter, pedals under his feet, light filtered through trees, gone as quickly as they fill his head.
âHey,â he leans in a bit. âDonât I know you?â
Eddie blinks.
âNo.â Tone sharp, matter-of-fact. He almost winces at the sound of it. Iâd remember you, he doesnât say. God, would I remember you.
He doesnât falter at Eddieâs clear dismissal, smile widening at the reply. âYou sure? You seem familiar.â His body slides further toward Eddie, who tries his best not to do anything ridiculous like flinch back (or even worse, meet him halfway). The man squints. âYou werenât the guy that offered me a room to rent and then stole my favorite ashtray, right?
âWhat the fuck? No! What is wrong with you?â It comes out in a rush, Eddie flustered and riled up immediately.
âSo much!â He replies cheerfully before extending a hand. âRichie Tozier.â
Eddie looks down at his hand with disdain, that same tickle at the very back of his brain. He looks back up at Richieâs glasses and clearly exits his body for a moment, because he reaches out to grasp Richieâs hand. âEddie.â
Richieâs palm is wide and a little damp from the condensation of his glass. A spark runs from the very top of his skull right down to Eddieâs toes, and they stare at each other for just a moment too long.
âNo last name? Thatâs fine, Iâll just have to make one up for you.â
âIâm not giving a stranger my last name, are you fucking kidding me? How do I know you arenât a stalker? Iâm not getting murdered by some freak in a hideous shirt, go fuck yourself.â His response is a stream of consciousness, the way he usually avoids talking at work, or with Myra, or around anyone actually, but he just canât help himself.
Richie just throws his head back and laughs, and Eddie canât stop gawking at the curve of his throat. âOkay Eddie Spaghetti, have it your way.â He gestures to the empty booth in the corner. âDrink with me, and then we won't be strangers anymore.â He wiggles his eyebrows as he talks, incredibly pleased with himself.
Eddie really shouldnât, he is going to say no any minute now, but Richie says it like a dare, and instead, what comes out of his mouth is âYouâre buying.â Eddie takes a step closer once he hops off the barstool, momentarily dizzy when he looks up to meet those blue eyes. Fuck, theyâre so blue, so fucking blue it almost makes him angry, bright enough to stand out even in the dim light.
âAnd donât fucking call me a pasta dish.â
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