#the great anon has curls like an Ed

[whereisthedamndaddymanual]

Look it's Monday. Don't trigger my extra large inadequacy

Yes IRL they all said it was quite large.

*shrugs*

Since when have I listened to anything except myself.

[lovebugism]

i feel like eddie doesn’t seem himself as “hot” but obviously you do. you’re on your way to a pool party and steve’s and he walks out in just swim trunks asking if he looks okay (they were thrifted and he’s just making sure they fit correctly okay 🥹). y’all barely even make it to steve’s because you can’t get over how GOOD this man looks.

you're so real for this anon. ty for requesting :D — the one where eddie munson has no idea how pretty he is (established relationship, hurt/comfort, cw for mentions of body insecurity and allusions to smut 18+ | 1.1k)

Eddie stands in the corner of your bedroom, before the full-length mirror propped against the wall, and pokes himself once in the stomach. The pale, pudgy skin there dips under his pointer finger before bouncing back in place. He can’t stop looking at his tummy, which sits just barely over the hem of his swim trunks. 

It’s hardly noticeable. Nothing anyone else would bother looking twice at. But to him, it’s so distressingly obvious that the sight alone makes his chest ache.

“Do these look okay?” Eddie mumbles absentmindedly, not looking back at you as he runs his ringed fingers under the elastic edge of the plain black shorts. The gesture is obviously an anxious one — like, if he does it enough times, maybe he can stretch it out a bit. (It hasn’t quite worked for him yet.)

Your silence is palpable and hardly encouraging. 

Eddie looks at you over his shoulder, deep brown eyes glimmering with melted chocolate and distant worry, half-hidden behind his wild curls. He finds you lying in the middle of your bed — with your head in your palms and your feet kicked up behind you — staring right at him.

Your eyes meet. You blink hard, face burning as your glazed-over gaze regains its life once more. “Hm?” you hum, then clear your throat.

Eddie’s lips quirk faintly upward. A mere flicker of a smile at your coyness. “I asked if these looked okay.”

You look him up and down to admire his form, (which you’d been doing the entire time, in truth, only now you’ve got the go-ahead for your unabashed leering.) 

Your boy is a tower of milky white quartz — full of lanky limbs, fading tattoos, and dustings of sparse hair. As far as you’re concerned, Eddie Munson was carved by Michaelangelo himself. A hand-crafted sculpture lost to time who somehow wormed his way into your heart and Forest Hills trailer park alike. 

Your eyes trail from his pretty face, to his long neck, to the black widow tattooed on his collarbone. They land finally on the happy trail below his belly button that disappears into his swim shorts. 

Your breath catches in your throat. You swallow hard and try to come up with something to say as your brain short-circuits.

“Yeah. Yeah, they look— they look great, Eds,” you stammer, rising from your lounged position on the bed to sit along the edge of it. You squeeze your thighs together when a dull throbbing settles suddenly between them. “Do they fit okay?”

Eddie, unaware of your blossoming desire, turns away. He looks back at his reflection, and his eyes fall immediately to his stomach. He runs his pointer fingers under the hem of the shorts and pretends it does something. Though, it doesn’t change how much of his torso is on display just now. Or how pale his lanky legs are after being hidden all summer season.

“I think so,” he murmurs with an unconvincing waver to his voice. He shifts his weight on his bare feet and caves. “I don’t know— I think I’m just gonna change.” 

You rise from the squeaking mattress. The oversized tee you’re using as a makeshift cover-up floods your smaller form. You catch the boy’s wrist before he can reach for the clothes he left in a pile on your floor. 

“You promised you weren’t gonna wear jeans!” you protest in a playful whine.

Eddie meets your pout with a more exaggerated one — brows twisted, nose scrunched, mouth snarled.  “I know, but I hate these,” he says with a louder whine.

“I don’t want you to get heat stroke and die,” you confess, mousy and obviously sarcastic, as you fall into the boy’s bare chest. 

You wrap both arms around his waist and rest your chin on his sternum, blinking up at him with pretty, glittering eyes. You can smell the floral shampoo in his hair from here, and the musky cologne on his neck you bought for him last Christmas.

Eddie cups your cheeks with softly calloused palms. “Good to know,” he quips with a lopsided smile that he then kisses you with. The crooked grin tastes faintly of nicotine and boy — a nostalgic feeling more than a real flavor.

“I’m serious, Eds,” you tell him with a stern glint in your eyes, chin bobbing against his chest with every word. “They look great on you, okay? Cross my heart.”

His chest sparkles at the compliment. Warms so much it starts to hurt all over again. 

And it’s not that he thinks you’re lying, he just wishes he believed you more. Or that he could see himself through your eyes or something. They always get so squishy around the edges when you look at him — with an adoration he doesn’t know he deserves.

“You’d tell me if I look like an idiot, though, right?” he wonders, half-joking.

“I tell you you look like an idiot all the time,” you deadpan, equally half-joking.

That gets a laugh out of him. “Fair enough,” the boy nods with a quiet chuckle.

“But I like these. Seriously. You should wear them,” you advise firmly and step back from him. Eddie mourns the warmth of your body when only your hands reach out to touch him. “And you can blame them for making us late…”

Eddie’s brows furrow at the mischievous lilt in your voice. “We don’t have to be at Steve’s for another, like, fifteen minutes,” he insists with a breathy laugh that gets caught in his throat when your hand dips under the hem of his swim trunks. “Oh?” he hums with a crooked smile.

You nod with your bottom lip trapped between your teeth. The fuzzy hair of his happy trail tickles the soft skin of your fingertips. His skin is soft and warm and inviting. Your hand starts to ache with the longing to feel him completely.

Eddie forgets how to breathe when you cup his stiffening cock in your supple palm. His eyes go heavy as his pink mouth falls softly agape. “Oh…” he repeats, deeper and more far away this time.

You grin in the face of his distant pleasure, which you seem to give him with little effort now (like a total fucking minx.) Eddie’s chest twists at the roguish twinkle in your eye. He knows he’s surely in for it now, but he doesn’t mind it. He yearns for it, really.

He only hopes that Steve won’t mind either — when the two of you show up at his place a half hour or more late, mussed with an obvious pleasure and reeking of it just the same.

[justm3di0cr3]

Fav blog on tumblr and why 👀 (being moots dont count)

Sorry anon I got multiple (sequence means nothing)

-> @midnightmah07 : She is actually so sweet and understanding, plus her oc x canon makes me scream into my pillow because they are just that cute. Her art style is so unique too and I love how distinct it is. She was also one of the first blogs i got introduced to on tumblr so i feek like i continued using it because of that since my anon-ed interactions wuth her always felt genuine

-> @4necdote : GREAT👏 WRITER👏She was actually my inspiration to start writing myself and It really helped ne improve so I owe that to her. Besides again, the sweetest person ever cuz me crying because of smth nice she said isn't allat uncommon. Also her aesthetics are always top-tier.

-> @natsukishinomiyaswife : Great writer part 2 because her fics have caused me to need to go outside for fresh air and try not to scream my lungs out. Not to mention, she is very giving when it comes to her mutuals and cares alot about ppl who support her work (isn't prideful at all when lowkey she has a right to be cuz wdym u wrote all that... I thought it was some hidden masterpiece literature.. )

-> @boopshoops Ok can yall blame me for adding dear shoopy here? This feels like an unnecessary explanation because the quality of her art and writing speaks for itself. Another person who is so giving towards the community cuz I will never forget her taking as much ocs she could and making that 40 hour piece. I would've cried if that were me. Bailed half way so gotta pat her on the back for that motivation.

-> @oya-oya-okay : recently got introducted to her but I've seen their blog alot on my feed as a Black butler and twst fan. Somehow her art of azul is tolerable so much so that i dont scream roach when I see him on their blog but this isnt about 🔵, it's about Oya whose art and oc x canon are just pookiest, wookiest, cutest things I've seen. They are at 2,000 followers FOR A REASON 👏

-> @skibidibabygirl : i love her sm chat... Sobs. She is so fun and sweet to talk toand if you have interacted with her yknow what im talking about. The first time i saw her art, i ended up staring at it for a hot minute and I have a certain attachment to her ocs and blog. Plus as a POC, her to go above and beyond to make her ocs representative is commendable.

-> @twtysevapr : HAVE YOU ALL SEEN HER ART?? ITS THE PRETTIEST EVER 🙏 and she has made interactions so fun for me to the point, talk with our ocs (mainly marx, mina amd cass) is actually smth i look forward to sm that i cant put it into words. Besides im biased as hell and rapunzal has always been my fav so-

-> @le-monchou : this is my first tumblr moot chat and she is studying literature and it shows. First twst fics i read were from her and ive never been the same /pos. Sometimes i lay awake and think about that one fic she wrote for my oc x canon in an event of hers. Plus her sense of humor really resonates with mine (and we also live in the sane region) so it always makes me feel nice.

-> @catboiie16 : Cat is actually so sweet that my teeth are falling out. Her art is so pretty that it is actually my phones lock and home screen wallpaper rn amd she knows im not joking. Another thing is her way of writing and how she carries the narrative that encourages me to get better. Also sephie. Yes that is a reason and a valid one.

-> @seuing : she doesn't really post anymore but her art is so so shsjshs. The twst slander on her blog is smth I would frame. She has been my bff for two years and her art has sent me throu a spiritual ascension where I high-fived Jesus and had a tea party with the angels. Trust me if she posts art here again, you guys would understand.

-> @xxoomiii : This girl is so sweet and I love her design choices in ocs (curls that look like roses GAHDAMN ) ANDTEH WAY SHE COLORS HAS ME HOOKED. HAVE YOU ALL SEEN THE OUTFITS SHE MAKES. Actually so gorgeous that it hurts. Bonus points for being a Riddle kisser.

[odocoiileus]

Hi! Could I get some Eddie x Reader angst? Preferably afab/female reader. The angst is up to you!

pairings: eddie munson x afab! reader

warnings: angst to eventual comfort, brief heartbreak and jealousy, usage of curse words, usage of feminine pet names (princess), mentions of dealing, reader has a fear of being abandoned and is an asshole, eddie's also an asshole kind of (less than the reader). reader has symptoms of a personality disorder if you squint.

a/n: sure thing, anon! enjoy this angst. reader is of age.

you were never the most emotionally stable. you had emotions that were more intense than most. anger felt like fire, sadness felt like you were dying, being normal felt like numbness. most of all, you had a horrible, debilitating fear of abandonment. you weren't sure where this stemmed from — your parents were present in your life. nobody major in your life had ever left you.

despite this lack of reason for such a fear, you find yourself practically shaking in eddie's trailer. your hands tremble, your heart beating against your chest painfully. he's talking about one of his customers again, who he seems to talk about all the time. your brows knit together, a whirlwind of emotions taking place inside you. most notably, anger. and right now? you felt like you were being burned alive.

"yeah, I mean, she's awesome! probably one of my favorite customers. always pays more than what I ask, kinda like a tip. great, right, babe?" eddie rambles, taking a moment to look at you sitting on his couch. he notices the disturbed expression on your face and his smug grin drops, hurrying over to sit beside you. "hey..uh, what's up, princess?" he asks, voice as smooth as butter, soft as cotton. he places a warm hand on your shoulder. and normally, you would want to lean into his touch, wouldn't be able to stop yourself from swooning over him. but right now, you can't help but feel your anger build up more, consuming you like a horrible monster.

"her! and you!" you spit out, scowling at him as your anger finally spills out. "all you do is talk about her, eds! I mean, we can't even have a normal fucking conversation without you bringing up how great she is..all she does is smoke!" you didn't know what his obsession with her was about, but there was only one thought in your mind. only one reason. he must like her, he must have a crush on her, he must love her. it's irrational, but right now it makes sense. you feel like clawing your skin off. you're oblivious to the shock and hurt on eddie's face. "you like her, don't you? like, like like her." you accuse, gritting your teeth as tears swell in your eyes.

eddie's puppy dog eyes narrow just slightly, his brows furrowing. his mouth, once agape, is now in a deep frown. "no! I don't like her like that..you know that, you're just being dramatic. stop being so insecure." he scoffs, taking his hand off your shoulder to cross his arms over his chest. you feel as though you've been shot at the 'dramatic' comment. a lump forms in your throat, you suddenly stand up with a bark of sarcastic laughter. "I'm dramatic? fine! since I'm so dramatic, I'm going back to my house! call me when you get over the obsession you have with your customer!" before eddie can say anything else, you're already out of the trailer, slamming the door behind you.

· · · · · · · · · · · · · · ·

hours had passed since the argument – the sun had set, the night sky illuminated by the moon. you were curled up in your bed, buried under copious amounts of blankets, wallowing in your pity. you felt horrible, guilty, mostly you felt like an asshole. you were an asshole. it was always like this - after your outbursts, you always felt guilty, but in the moments they happened..you felt like you couldn't control it.

with a heavy sigh, you drag your hands down your face. "great going.." you grumble to yourself. a sudden clonk catches your attention, eyes darting over to your window. there's a second clonk, before you realize that it's a rock hitting your window. oh, god. that could only mean one thing. eddie.

scrambling out of your bed, you open your window and look outside, spotting the brunette. "eddie.." you mumble. the metalhead looks just as sullen as you do, if not worse, as he maneuvers his way onto your roof and to your window. subsequently, you move out of the way so he can crawl into your bedroom. the second he's standing firmly, he wraps his arms around you in a tight hug.

finally, you break the silence. "I..I'm sorry, eds. I shouldn't have acted that way..I..just," you start, voice wavering. your hands find themselves on his chest. "..felt like you like her way more than me or somethin', stupid I know..I'm sorry." you say, feeling the lump form in your throat again. you will yourself not to cry. it proves to be unbelievably difficult once eddie speaks up.

"I'm sorry, princess. I promise you, I don't like her like that..I never would, I got you and you're..totally metal, 'kay? I just got excited since I've never had someone repeatedly come back to buy stuff." eddie speaks, and you're able to pinpoint a small crack in his voice, the way he squeezes you just a bit tighter. "i'd never replace you, never..just..just believe me, okay? I love you. I shouldn't 've called you dramatic." he whispers and you swear his voice shakes like he might also cry. you nod, blinking away tears. "I love you too, eds."

you pull away from the hug to look up at him, heart shattering at the sight of his brown hues glistening with tears. "I'm a total asshole." you huff, forcing out a giggle in hopes it'll lift the mood. you see eddie perk up just a little bit. "..come lay down with me?" you ask hesitantly, a smile appearing on your face when you see eddie's own as he nods.

[scoops-aboy86]

Combo of 5, 13, and 29 for the cuddle prompt list?

(cuddling prompt list)

5. “I’m sorry, I’m probably suffocating you.” “No, I don’t mind. If I do happen to suffocate, just know I died happy.” 13. “I don’t really want to get up. I’m so comfortable right now.” 29. Being so wrapped up in one another they forget about important bodily functions, for example, hunger.

Ooooh boy, these combined prompts are great, thanks anon! I hope I did all of them justice.

rated: T | tags: chubby Steve Harrington, weight gain, feedee steve harrington, feeder eddie munson, established relationship, deep pressure stimulation, belly kink, belly rubs, stuffing, body worship, sweat

-

Eddie has been waiting for this all through breakfast. Partly because he'd served it in bed and they were still all snuggly anyway, but… He’s wanted to know what it would feel like ever since the last time Steve had needed to size up his clothes again, though he’s not wearing anything right now. 

“I don’t know, Eds,” Steve mumbles, eyeing him speculatively while rubbing his belly. It’s not stuffed this morning but still pleasantly full and round and heavy, and there’s a glint in his eyes that Eddie knows means that he wants to, that he’s just as curious. A little self-conscious, maybe… but they’ve talked about this, and they both know that Steve’s main reservation is not wanting to hurt his boyfriend, who nearly died from the bat bites last year. 

This has been the prize Eddie has been working toward with every physical therapy appointment or exercise. He’s earned this. 

“Stevie,” Eddie says, giving his best puppy dog eyes and hangdog pout. “I want you. I can take it, big boy. Please?

And Steve rolls his eyes, but still crumbles like the last milk-dunked cookie he’d swallowed a moment ago. Eddie wonders if he even realizes he’s smiling, that special one he always saves for when they’re alone. “Okay then. Ready?”

Nodding eagerly, Eddie is quick to strip off the t-shirt he’d slept in and wriggles out of his boxers. He wants the complete Steve Harrington experience, intimate and skin to skin. 

“Sorry,” Steve mumbles as he settles. “I’m probably suffocating you, if it’s too much just tell me—”

“Stevie, baby,” Eddie interrupts, words a little slurred through the blissful haze he’s currently sinking into, because Steve is perfect, he can already tell. Just the right amount of heavy for the itch Eddie needs scratched. “I don’t mind. I’m so, so far from minding that, if I do happen to suffocate, just know I died happy.”

Steve huffs, giving a pointed little shift that nearly does press the air out of Eddie’s lungs, and definitely makes his eyes roll back—and there’s no way it’s not partly a response to how ridiculously hard he is already. “What did I say about jokes about dying.”

“That they’re bad jokes…”

“Very bad,” Steve agrees, his voice mock-stern with just an edge of that bitchy condescension that Eddie absolutely adores on him. “You gonna stop making ‘em?”

“Y-yes.”

“Good boy.”

Then Steve lets himself relax the rest of the way, his full weight on Eddie like the warmest, softest blanket, his arms laid against the outside of Eddie’s and hands tucked behind his shoulder blades, fingers curling possessively over the tops of his shoulders. He tucks in against Eddie’s neck, lips brushing hot just below the jawline—and he’s clearly enjoying this too, for all his protests, from the way he hums into the scarred skin there. 

And christ, if Eddie could move he’d be rocking his hips up into Steve’s soft bulk. But he can’t, he’s totally pinned flat on his back, which is really doing something for him. He flexes his pinned hands where he’d left them palms up across his thighs in anticipation, fingers gently but fervently gripping and kneading at Steve’s belly until Steve is practically purring into his neck, appreciative of the attention following his breakfast feast. A thick but still powerful thigh shoves its way between both of Eddie’s, which can only spread so much to accommodate the welcome intrusion. 

Time melts and stretches like taffy. Eddie drifts, noticing in a distant way after a while that Steve’s breath against his neck has slowed to the gentle in and out of sleep, tinged endearingly with a little snore that he knows Steve would deny. It’s cute. Eddie just needs a little more time to convince Steve that it’s cute, and not something worth all the nagging complaints he’d heard his mom fire off about his dad over the family breakfast table.

(Which, damn, no wonder Steve’s honestly impressive appetite had been curbed all through growing up, with negative energy like that permeating every shared meal whenever his parents had bothered to be around.)

What brings Eddie back to reality is when he hears (practically feels), against all probability, Steve’s stomach give a little grumble that signals it’s ready for more. Eddie had prepared a breakfast fit for a king, pancakes and waffles and bacon and potato hash and an omelet oozing with cheese. Syrup and butter and whipped cream and sliced strawberries and chocolate sprinkles. A stack of toast cut neatly into triangles and slathered in jam and honey. Coffee made pale with cream and sugar, and a big glass of milk to go with the cookies he’d baked from the can of dough in the fridge on a whim, but he’d known it was the right choice when he’d seen the way Steve lit up at the sight of them. Steve had eaten all of that and still has room, but there’s no way he’s hungry. 

And yet, the grumble sounds again. 

“Baby,” Eddie whispers, pressing a kiss to his sleeping boyfriend’s beautiful hair. “Stevie, sweetheart, wake up.”

“Mm?” The hum tickles at his stubble and is followed by a lazy, nipping kiss. “Need something, Eds?”

How could Eddie want for anything when he has everything he’s ever wanted right here?

“If you wanted anything else,” Steve continues to murmur sleepily into his skin, “you should’ve said something before I laid down, because I don’t really want to get up. ’M so comfortable right now.”

Eddie tries to move, tries to shift, but all he can do is flex his hands against Steve’s belly again. It gets him another appreciative hum and a languorous shift of Steve’s thigh, pressing where Eddie is still hard and surprising a moan out of him. 

“Don’t wanna get up,” Steve continues, still sleepy but picking up a little speed. Rocking lazily on top of him, not friction so much as pressure but it feels just as good, sending Eddie’s eyes rolling back yet again. “Wanna eat more while I’m on top of you, but there’s no food. How come there’s no more food?”

“You ate it all, sweetheart,” Eddie gasps. “I’ll have to, fuck—have to plan better for next time.”

“But I’m hungry now,” Steve whines. 

He mouths at Eddie’s neck like he’s considering eating him, which shouldn’t make Eddie’s cock leak the way it does but, well, it’s happening. 

And Steve is often insatiable after a post-meal nap, but this is something above and beyond. Dialing up the brattiness to get the desired reaction, which is clearly just to drive Eddie wild with lust because his next words are, “I want more all the time, Eds, it’s getting so hard to stop. Wanna ride you while I’m still, mmm…” He trails off to suck a hickey, hard and devouring, into Eddie’s neck right where everyone will be able to see, breaking off with a wet smacking sound. “While I’m still eating,” he finishes, and he’s rocking with a purpose now, getting off on the idea just as much as Eddie is beneath him. “So you can fill me up when I’m full and it’ll be, it’ll be perfect, o-oh fuck…”

All Eddie can do is make a wrecked-sounding noise in response, because… he is. He’s completely and totally wrecked for one Steve Harrington, who’d taken his encouragement to eat three square meals a day before they’d even started dating, going from no appetite and nightmares every night to well-fed and sleeping off big dinners. And then gone past well-fed to overfed, still strong beneath it all thanks to shifting his workouts from burning fat to building muscle, because Steve loves his bigger body as much as Eddie does… if not more. 

Because Steve is grinding down on Eddie, shuddering on top of him to a fantasy that neither of them had realized he could ever possibly want as recently as a year ago, but now he’s coming untouched at the very thought. Hungry even when he’s comfortably full, drooling to thoughts of pushing past that zone of comfort to where it’s impossible to think of anything else but the freedom and satisfaction he’s found in overdoing it past the point of reason. 

Who needs reason when you’ve saved the world from monsters so many times before he was even old enough to legally drink?

With Steve squashing him, truly pressing all the air from his body and encasing him in a bubble of heat and need and fat—of everything Steve is, all of him, all at once—Eddie wiggles as best he can against his thigh and tips over the edge while struggling for breath. 

Steve rolls off of him, leaving Eddie gasping and shivering at the sudden rush of cold air. He’s drenched in sweat and come, both his and Steve’s, and ignores the pins and needles feeling in his arms to drag his fingers through the mess, trying to rub it into his skin and keep it forever. This feeling of being spent and light as a feather after all that, goosebumps all over his body and still quivering from waves of afterglow. 

“We are definitely doing that again,” he wheezes up at the ceiling, eyes still closed as he lets the sensations wash over him. Sweat drying on his skin, beading on his upper lip until Steve rolls onto his side with a grunt and licks it away, which should probably be gross but only makes Eddie feel kept. Desired. Loved.

Steve laughs and falls back onto his back with a hefty sigh. “Maybe after lunch.”

Eddie follows him this time, rolling to cuddle up next to the curve of Steve’s side and sling an arm over his belly. “Mmm… too early for lunch, though.”

“Second breakfast, then,” Steve says with a pout. “And after that you should fuck me, and then we can have lunch.”

He chuckles and nuzzles Steve’s cheek. “How about I take a quick shower, speediest in the world, and you get all set up in the tub while I get more food ready. Feed you in the bath. You said the other day you wanted to see if you could get the water to spill over, right?”

Steve turns to kiss him with a barely contained grin. “Challenge accepted. Grab my book of Guinness World Records, would you? The speediest shower in the world is probably under a minute. If you can’t beat that… what do I win?”

“Hmm…” Eddie pretends to think about it for a moment, but he already knows. He just needs a moment to get over how cute he finds Steve’s competitive nature—something that before all the Upside Down shit he might have rolled his eyes at and dismissed as lame jock behavior. But Eddie has grown up a lot in the past year, enough to acknowledge that he both likes it and has a similar streak that makes him particularly devious as a DM. “If you win, how about we combine fucking and lunch? You can ride me like you were talking about earlier.”

From the way Steve lights up at the suggestion, Eddie knows even before he gets the book and Steve reads out the actual record that he will not be able to beat that. And it will be so. Very. Worth it.

Permanent tag list: @hotluncheddie

[lacontroller1991]

6 Days (Ed Baldwin x F!Reader)

Gif by @edwardbaldwin

Requested by @edwardbaldwin: I want to crawl into Ed’s bunk and sleep on his broad chest. And just kiss him and hold him and I’m a mess help

Main Master List

Misc Master List

Warnings: Spoilers for season 1 and language

It's quiet in the lunar base. Maybe that's why you hear Ed tossing and turning, groaning out into the cramped space, most likely another nightmare. It's been 6 days since Karen spontaneously called her ex husband to tell him that his son passed away. It's been 6 days since your boyfriend has touched you, let alone even look at you. And it's driving you insane. You want to comfort him, to hold him; but what do you say to someone who just lost their child?

Ed's tossing stops, silence fills the cabin again, but just as you are about to shut your eyes, you hear a small, quiet version of your name.

Blinking the sleep out of your eyes, you think that you're just hearing thinks, but the second time isn't a mistake. He's calling your name.

Poking you head out of you sleeping cell, you look up and meet his blown pupils. "What's wrong, Ed?"

"Can you come up here? Lay with me?" You nod, slipping out of your bed and climbing into his as he slides over. You two lay face to face but neither say a word. Cautiously, you entwine your fingers with his, causing him to shiver. You break the silence. "How are you, Ed?"

"I'm lost. I don't know what happened or how it happened. I am over 200,000 miles away and lost," he pauses, blinking the tears away. "I mean, he probably died thinking I hate him and was disappointed in him. I'm the worst father ever," he mumbles, a tear slipping down his cheek and you're quick to reach up and brush it away.

"Don't say that Eddy. You are a great father and Shane knew that. He knew that you love him to the stars and back, so don't you say that you were a bad father. Because you're not. He couldn't have had a better father."

His eyes bore into yours. "But I was busy for most of his life. Doing things for this stupid program."

"I'm sure Shane understood that what you were doing was to better mankind and to push us forward in life. In fact, I know he understood. I picked him up from a playdate one day and you should've seen his eyes when he told me about all that you were doing. I have never seen a more excited and inspired kid in my life. Shane loved you, Ed. Thought the world of you. So don't you think like that Commander Baldwin," you press your forehead against his and breathe in tandem with him. "It's okay, baby. Shane loved you."

"You think so?" His voice is small, hesitant, and you sympathetically smile at him.

"I know so. Why don't we get some rest baby? Get some sleep," you press a kiss against his lips and he visibly relaxes against your caress.

"I'm sorry I haven't been the best these past couple of days," you shake your head and press a kiss to his cheek before pushing him onto his back as you curl up against his broad chest.

"It's alright Eddy. Just get some sleep."

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[theladyofdeath]

Alone in the Ashes {3}

A Court of Thorns and Roses fanfction, characters belong to Sarah J Maas. Modern au. Revolves around Nesta x Cassian, Feyre x Rhysand, and Elain x Azriel. Other characters appear throughout. Based on multiple prompts sent in by anons tbr below.

Warning: Mature content. Alcohol abuse, verbal abuse, sex, language, eating disorders.

For summary & chapter index, click >  Alone in the Ashes {Acotar}

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: Oh, the build up.

Comment to tell me what you think, or to be tagged! x

“What are the chances you’d ever meet someone like that? he wondered. Someone you could love forever, someone who would forever love you back? And what did you do when that person was born half a world away? The math seemed impossible.” ― Rainbow Rowell, Eleanor & Park

Feyre woke up with a pounding headache. It couldn’t have been too late, the sun was still rising. She groaned as she rolled over, searching for her phone, but finding nothing. When she sat up, and found herself in her black cotton bra and panties, her cheeks turned red. 

The events of the night before flooded her mind - with a few blank spots. 

She remembered Rhys being punched, remembered Tamlin being punched by Rhys, remembered getting pissed off, remembered dancing, remembered drinking…

A lot. 

After that, things grew hazy, but she vaguely remembered puking on Rhysand’s crotch. 

Rhysand.

After wrapping a blanket around her body, she stomped across the hall and threw open the door. Rhysand was sound asleep, his face in his pillow, a blanket wrapped around his waist.

The black winged tattoos on his back gleamed in the sunlight streaming in through the thin curtains. It started at the lowest point of his back and trailed up, curling up over his shoulders. 

She remembered when he was in high school. He had come a long way since being the lanky boy she met her freshman year. Now, his shoulders were broad, his arms thick, his tanned skin covered in black ink. 

Feyre, completely aware of the admiration she was giving his body, stormed to his bed and threw off his comforter. Gray sweatpants hung low on his hips. 

His head jerked up, his eyes still closed, his hair sticking up. “Fu-Wha..”

Those violet eyes fluttered open and caught sight of Feyre, blanket wrapped around her. “Good morning, asshole.”

He blinked, coming more to his senses. He rubbed at his eyes before propping himself on his elbows. “Would you like to elaborate?”

“Would you like to tell me why I woke up practically naked this morning?” she asked, voice rising. 

Rhysand raised a brow as he looked at her, exasperated. “You’re fucking welcome.” 

Feyre hesitated, and she knew he saw it, because he rolled onto his back and put his hands behind his head, one knee drawn up. “You were a mess last night. Don’t you remember?”

“Some…” Feyre muttered, lifting up her chin. 

“Where should I start filling you in?” Rhysand said, grinning. Oh, he was loving this. “When you hung your head out of the window on the way home, telling the city how much you love tequila, or when you stuck your tongue down my throat?” 

A vision appeared in Feyre’s mind, her hands on his face, pulling him forward, her mouth against his.

Rhysand snorted, watching her expression. “Don’t worry. I broke it off quickly. Then, you puked all over the both of us, and all over the bathroom...so, apparently the kiss wasn’t all that great.” 

“You cleaned me up,” Feyre said, quietly, her eyes softening.

Rhysand’s grin had softened, too, as he tilted his head. “Of course I did. What kind of friend would I be if I let you go to bed, covered in puke?”

Feyre sat on the edge of his mattress and cursed, before falling back onto his bed. “Did I at least make it out of the bar before I started embarrassing myself?” 

Rhysand laughed. “Depends what you mean by embarrassing.”

She looked up at him. He was sitting up now, pushing his hair back. She could see the bruise, now black and blue, just below his eye. Tamlin hit him good.

And it was all her fault.

His grin faded as he watched the thoughts go through her head. “It doesn’t hurt that bad.”

“And how do you know that’s what I’m thinking about?” she asked.

“Because I know you,” he said. “And because I can see where your eyes are directed.” 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Why?” he asked. “It’s not your fault he’s a prick.”

“I came here, with you,” she said. “And it didn’t make his suspicions lessen, that’s for sure. Now, he thinks you took me from him, and I assume last night will not be the only fight that breaks out because of it.”

Rhysand sighed, laying down on his stomach beside her. He looked down at her, eyes bright. “I don’t care about that, Feyre. All I care about is that you are away from him, out of that house, out of that relationship. You deserve better.”

He had always told her that, from the moment they started dating in high school. You shouldn’t be with Tam. You’re too good for him. He doesn’t treat you like you deserve to be treated. 

“You don’t deserve to be bombarded in a bar,” she said. 

Rhysand didn’t say anything else, but he watched her, and the gleam in his eyes made her remember that she was hardly wearing anything beneath the blanket she had burrito-ed herself in. 

“I’m going to go put on pants,” she said.

Rhysand’s grin returned. “Probably a good idea. Apparently, you can’t control yourself around me.”

“Fuck you,” Feyre laughed, pushing against his shoulder.

He didn’t waiver. He just watched her, and laughed, and ruffled her hair, which earned him a scowl in return. 

“Next time, you should knock,” he said, as she got up to leave his bedroom. “You have no idea what goes on in here at night.”

Feyre turned in the threshold, smiling wickedly. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve caught you masturbating.” 

Rhysand’s eyes narrowed. “I was adjusting myself, for the last time! That was the year of overly-tight skinny jeans…”

“You can keep telling everybody that, but we all know the truth,” she winked, before going back across the hall and closing herself inside of her bedroom, ignoring Rhysand’s protests. 

She found a bottle of Advil in her nightstand and took a few before pulling on some leggings and a t-shirt. 

She still felt like shit, but Rhysand always had a knack for making her feel better, no matter her mood or the level of her hangover. When she walked into the kitchen, Rhysand was eating a bowl of cereal at their little table, his chest still bare. 

“Wanna go for a run this morning?” he asked, mouth full.

“I would literally rather do anything else,” Feyre muttered, pulling a Gatorade out of the fridge and walking to the couch, where she collapsed.

Rhysand’s phone chimed on the side table next to her.

“Mind telling me who that is?” he asked, voice hardly comprehensible. 

“If you stop talking with your mouth full,” she mumbled, reaching for his phone. 

The number was unknown, but the message had her tensing. 

Hey, Rhysand. My name is Clare. Your friend gave me your number last night. I was wondering if you wanted to go get a drink later?

Feyre read the message twice, and hesitated, then felt ridiculous for hesitating. Rhysand deserved to go out with a cute girl for a drink. Why wouldn’t he?

“Some girl,” she said. “Apparently Cassian was giving out your number again.”

“Hmm,” Rhysand said. His bowl and spoon clattered in the sink before he walked to the living room and sat down on the opposite end of the couch, pulling Feyre’s feet onto his lap. She handed him his phone, and he read the message before tossing it aside.

He turned on the t.v., as if nothing had happened. 

“Well?” Feyre asked, as Rhysand leaned back against the couch cushions. “Are you going to reply?”

Rhysand shrugged. “Maybe.”

“You should,” Feyre said, eyeing him. “Why wouldn’t you?”

Rhysand looked her way, brows raised. “Why do I feel like I’m being attacked?”

Feyre rolled her eyes. “I’m not attacking you, I just think it would be nice for you to go out. Meet someone.”

Rhysand snorted. “Yeah, well...we’ll see.” 

“You should go.”

“Maybe.”

“I’m serious.”

“We’ll see.”

“Rhys.”

“Feyre.”

He wouldn’t look at her. His smile was not reaching his eyes. Maybe she was being too pushy, but it had been a long time since Rhysand’s last relationship. He dated, hooked up from time to time, but even that had been few.  

Feyre opened her mouth to say something more, but their front door opened and Azriel appeared, little Mila in his arms. 

She saw Rhysand and beamed. “Rhysie!” 

Rhysand smiled, catching Mila once she ran to the couch and threw herself on top of him.

“Hi, Mila,” Feyre said, joyfully watching Rhysand kiss her cheek, and watching Mila wipe it off.

“Hi, Fey,” she said. “I’m glad you live with Rhysie now. It smells better in here.”

Feyre barked a laugh as Azriel slumped down in the armchair across from them.

He looked exhausted. 

“Rhys has a date tonight,” Feyre said, in hopes of distracting Azriel.

He lifted his brows, glancing at Rhysand. “Yeah? Who?”

Rhysand was staring at Feyre, eyes narrowed.

“Some girl from the bar last night,” Feyre said, since Rhysand certainly wasn’t going to, it seemed. “And he’s going.”

“No, I’m not,” he said. 

Azriel looked intrigued. He propped his chin on his fist. “And why wouldn’t you go?”

Rhysand tensed, looking at Azriel with his jaw locked. “Because I work tomorrow, dipshit.” 

“When?” Azriel implied. “Ten? You can’t go on a date tonight because you work at ten tomorrow morning? That’s not very early, Rhys.” 

Rhysand said nothing, but the look he was giving Azriel had Feyre glancing back and forth between the two of them. 

“Just saying,” Azriel muttered. 

“Me too,” Feyre added. 

“Fine,” Rhysand breathed. “If I go, will everyone stay out of my dating life?”

“Yah,” Mila said, making even Rhysand smile.

“Good,” Rhys laughed, tickling Mila’s tummy. “Thank you.”

~~~~~

Nesta and Elain sat at the diner their mother used to take them to when they were young. It was family-owned, a tiny little building on the corner of Main Street and Second Avenue. They had already been seated for five minutes, and neither of them had said a word. 

They didn’t have a lot in common. They hadn’t since they were children and, even then, they didn’t have a ton in common. But, at least back then, they played together, laughed together, kept each other company. 

Now, sitting through lunch was agonizing. 

“So, how’s work going?” Elain asked, at last.

Nesta looked up from her menu. “Well, I haven’t gotten fired yet, so that’s a perk. Other than that, it’s shit. Thanks for asking.”

Elain nodded. She still hadn’t touched her menu. 

“What about you? Started looking yet?” Nesta asked.

Elain hadn’t had a job since everything had gone down with Graysen, but now that she was living at home with their dad, Nesta assumed she had to find a job again somewhere, doing something.

“Not yet,” she replied, quietly. “But I will.” 

“Sure you will.” Nesta sighed, setting her menu down on the table. “Ready to order?”

Elain nodded. Nesta called over the waitress. She ordered a BLT and fries. Elain ordered a yogurt parfait, loaded with berries. 

“How’s Tomas?” Elain asked, once the waitress walked away.

“Great,” Nesta lied. She hadn’t seen him or talked to him since he left her ass at the nightclub. “He’s out with his brothers today.”

“Doing what?” 

Nesta shrugged, sipping her coffee. “How’s dear old dad?”

“He seems okay,” Elain said, fiddling with the zipper on her jacket. “Not very social. Spends most of his time in his office or at the park, feeding the birds and talking to some old man named Phil.” 

“Why Phil?” Nesta asked.

Elain shrugged. “He tells dad stories, I guess. Apparently he’s, like, ninety and has nothing better to do.”

“Neither does dad, apparently,” Nesta mumbled. 

“Yeah,” Elain agreed. “I think he’s lonely.” 

Nesta snorted. “Of course he is. Look how he’s spent the last decade, since mom died.”

Elain took a deep breath. “You shouldn’t speak of mom’s death like it’s nothing.”

Nesta tensed. “I’m not. I’m just saying, dad hasn’t really done a lot since then, has he?” 

Elain didn’t protest. Instead, she took a sip of her water before slowly setting her cup back down on the coaster. 

Nesta looked at her phone. No notifications. She supposed that would be the way it would be from now on, since Tomas was no longer in the picture. He was all that she’d had - a sad realization, not that it bothered her too much. Nesta preferred to be alone. 

“Dad misses you,” Elain said, suddenly, voice quiet. “He misses Feyre, too.”

“Maybe he should put a little more effort into his relationship with us, then,” Nesta snapped. “He hasn’t done much of that in almost ten years.”

“It’s not that he didn’t want to-”

“Damn it, Elain,” Nesta growled. Elain froze. “Stop defending him! He’s useless. He doesn’t deserve my sympathy, or yours.” 

“You should just-”

“I won’t do anything,” Nesta said, interrupting. “And you, Elain, should get a job and get your ass out of that house, or you’ll end up his babysitter like Feyre used to be.”

Elain kept quiet.

The waitress returned with their food, and the moment Nesta’s plate was in front of her, she started on her sandwich. Elain just stared at her plate.

“Eat, Elain,” Nesta whispered. “You need to eat.”

Elain did so, quietly and slowly.

Nesta felt a sudden pang of guilt settle in the pit of her stomach. Elain had gone through enough, and Nesta knew that. Her fiance had cheated on her, she was forced to move in with their useless father, and she had lost way too much weight. Nesta’s hostility wasn’t helping, as much as she meant every word that came out of her mouth. 

“Alright, look,” Nesta sighed, setting her sandwich down. “I’ll come over for dinner. Alright? Later this week.”

Elain perked up, just a little bit. She popped a strawberry into her mouth. “Bring Tomas, too? Dad wants to meet him.” 

Nesta just lifted her eyebrows and took another bite of her sandwich. 

The rest of lunch went okay. In fact, most things went okay when Nesta stayed quiet and only answered questions with one or two words. In one or two words, it was much harder to disappoint Elain. Not impossible, but much more difficult. 

When Nesta’s plate was clear, she paid for the bill, hugged Elain goodbye and promised she would be at dinner later in the week, before walking back to her apartment.

She didn’t have a car, not anymore. She had to sell it the year before to keep up with rent. Living in the city, there was always public transportation, so she decided, in the end, a car was not necessarily a necessity. 

She missed having a car, though, especially on days like today. The sun was shining brightly, the air was warm but not too warm. It was a perfect day to drive outside of the city with the music blaring, the windows down. 

But not for Nesta. Instead, she was walking down the sidewalk, pulling a cigarette and her lighter out of her jacket pocket. 

She had three hours before she had to be at work, and no fun way to pass the time. She had no money, no friends, and two cigarettes left. Drinking was an obvious no - showing up to work drunk never did anyone any good. And Nesta couldn’t lose her job. She could barely make ends meet as it was. 

By the time she made it back to her apartment, she was already exhausted, craving her bed. She unlocked the door and looked around. Complete silence. No sign of Tomas. He hadn’t called or texted since he left her at the night club, and it was looking like he wouldn’t. 

It was for the best, though. He was a nuisance. Even the sex, which had been good at first, had turned into more of an annoyance than anything else. In the end, every time his hands roamed her body, she grew nauseous. 

His stupid, little hands.

Just as she settled on her couch, a knock came on the front door. 

Nesta sighed. “Go away!”

They knocked again. 

“Fuck off!” she yelled, lighting her last cigarette. She should stop at the gas station on the way to work, would have to leave ten minutes early.

Another knock.

Nesta mumbled a long string of curses as she stomped to the door and threw open the door. Cassian stood there, wearing basketball shorts and a t-shirt, sweating profusely, as if he’d just gone for a run.

“What the fuck?” she breathed. “You’ve lived in this shithole for two days, hardly, and you can’t seem to leave me alone.” 

He held up an envelope. “Snuck into my mailbox. Addressed to you.” 

When she didn’t reach up to grab it, he dropped it at her feet, and turned to cross the hall to his own apartment. 

When he opened the door, a golden retriever jumped up on him. He greeted the pup with a smile and scratched its head before closing the door. 

Nesta hated herself for watching. 

~~~~~

Rhysand got out of the shower and dried off his hair, his body, before pulling on a pair of jeans. When he walked into the living room, Cassian and Feyre were playing candyland with Mila on the floor while Azriel was pacing on the phone out on the balcony. 

“Did he hear something new?” Rhysand asked, opening up a water bottle. 

Cassian looked from Azriel, to Mila, who was laughing with Feyre, then to Rhysand. “Talking with the police now. Before that, the hospital called.” Rhysand cursed. Azriel’s adopted sister had put him through hell, had put Mila through hell, had put everyone through hell. 

But it always fell on Azriel’s shoulders. His parents, who had adopted him in his early teens, didn’t want anything to do with any of them - not anymore. 

“I hear you’re going out on a date,” Cassian crooned, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“Forced to,” Rhysand muttered. “Got to leave soon.”

“What shirt are you wearing?” Feyre asked, Mila pulled onto her lap. “Wear the blue one. Brings out your eyes.”

“Which blue one?” he asked, downing the water bottle and throwing it across the room in the trash. “I have a closet full of blue shirts.”

Feyre rolled her eyes. “Make Cassian suffer while I’m gone,” Feyre told Mila, before setting her on the floor next to the game board. “You,” she said, pointing at Rhysand. “Follow me.”

Rhysand groaned as he followed Feyre into his bedroom. She was already sorting through his closet. 

“You really need to start branching out,” Feyre said, chuckling. “Everything in here looks the same. And most of it can’t be worn on a date. To the gym? Yes. On a date? No. What the hell do you find to wear to work?”

He looked down at the jeans he was wearing as he sat on the edge of his bed. “You’re looking at it.”

Feyre pulled a blue, plaid button down shirt out and yanked it off the hanger. “Put this on.”

Rhysand didn’t move as the shirt hit him in the chest. “You seem awfully pushy.” 

“I should be pushy,” she said, smiling at him as he stood and pulled the shirt on. “You deserve to have fun. You can’t just ignore women forever because I’m living with you now.” 

Rhysand hesitated, then he nodded. 

He buttoned up the shirt and pushed his sleeves up. “Alright. Good?” 

Feyre tilted her head and took him in. “The bare feet are throwing me off.” 

Rhysand chuckled. His eyes softened as he watched her, leaning up against his wall in an oversized sweatshirt. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay in tonight? I can. I don’t-”

“Rhys,” she said, arms crossed. “Go. But text me first, please, if you bring her back. That’s the last thing I wanna walk in on.”

Rhysand wanted to tell her that he wouldn’t be bringing her back, but he hesitated. One, because it would’ve brought suspicion, and two, because he really couldn’t make that promise as much was he wanted to.

The reality of it was that Rhysand hadn’t been on a date in years. It had been a while since he’d had anything and, yes, a lot of that was because of Feyre. Hell, all of that was because of Feyre. But, she didn’t want him like that, shouldn’t want him like that. Not after just getting out of a long, shitty relationship.

Not after being friends, great friends, just friends, for over ten years.

“Alright,” he settled on, at last. He pulled a brown pair of boots out of the bottom of his closet and pulled them on. “Bare feet gone. Now?”

She looked at him, chuckled, then walked toward him, slowly. She pushed his hair back and patted him on the cheek. “Very handsome.”

“I know,” Rhysand whispered, but there wasn’t quite enough snark in it as he wanted there to be. 

Rhysand went out. He met Clare at the bar. They ate, and talked, and drank, and laughed, and it was fun. Rhysand found that he was enjoying himself, which far preceded his earlier notions. Even so, he couldn’t help but wonder what Feyre was doing.

Then he thought himself creepy.

They had separate lives. They were roommates. Friends.

“Rhysand?”

He blinked, coming out of his thoughts. Clare was watching him with wide, pleading eyes from across the table. 

“Sorry,” he smiled. He had already paid, and Clare had already shrugged on her jacket. “Ready?”

She nodded, smiling brightly. Clare was cute, in the obvious way. But it was all surface level beauty. She was a sweet girl, but there was no depth. They’d have nice conversation, fun conversation, but it was all small talk. He knew what she did for fun, that she liked her job, that summer was her favorite season. And he supposed that was what first dates were for - getting all the little facts out of the way. Maybe he was just over first dates. Maybe he just wanted something more. 

Rhysand took Clare home, telling her to ignore another round of public transportation, and she invited him in, but he said no. He’d told her he’d had a good time and he would call her again, sometime, and maybe he would. 

Then he drove home, and when he opened the door to their apartment, Feyre was sound asleep on the couch, a movie playing softly in the background. He turned off the t.v. and covered her with a blanket before closing himself inside of his room.

Alone.

~~~~~

Elain wanted to sleep, but she couldn’t, once again.

Maybe she should stop taking the pills.

She couldn’t stop taking the pills. 

She sat in her bed, scrolling through job posts on her laptop. At first, she had been inspired. Nesta was right that morning at their lunch. She needed a job, needed to make a life for herself, needing to get out of their dad’s house.

She was too old to be living with their father, to be relying on a man that couldn’t even take care of himself. 

And yet, the longest she scrolled through the listings, the more depressed she felt. 

She was qualified for nothing.

Elain had been valedictorian of her high school class, had gone to university with honors and held the top of her class, all four years, until she graduated. She was smart, had been smart. School had been easy for her, but it did not prepare her for the real world, one bit. Even with a degree in journalism. 

A degree that never got her anywhere.

She went back to working in retail after college, until she met Graysen and fell in love with him. Along with his father, he was co-owner of their family business. For a guy in his late-twenties, he was very well off. Elain still worked, but not nearly as much, and once Elain had caught him cheating, she stopped going to work as she spiraled.

They fired her.

She hadn’t had a job in the months since. 

But now, it was time. 

The last thing she wanted to do was go back into retail, but with a degree in journalism and no jobs in that field, it wasn’t looking like she had that much of a choice. 

Multiple boutiques were hiring on the strip downtown, a department store was hiring in the mall, and she could also apply for a job in the food industry, but being around food all day was the last thing that she wanted. 

Retail it would be, then. 

She applied to a few places with her extraordinarily sad resume before calling it a night.

A strong, summer wind blew outside of her window, howling in the silence of her bedroom, as Elain closed her laptop and fell back against her pillows.

She supposed she should at least try to sleep. 

Azriel would be arriving in the morning to start on their garage. 

It wouldn’t do her any good to wake up looking like a zombie.

But the sleep never came, and she laid awake staring at the ceiling until dawn came. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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Prompts:

{ “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever met that asshole” - Feysand } -anonymous

{ “How about Nessian needing to fake date when they go home for the holidays?!” } - anonymous

{ “could u pls do like an elriel fic where azriel is like this mysterious bad boy and elain is a goody two shoes lik aaaaa i cant get that image out of my head” } - anonymous

[mydearestreaderfanfics]

Wake Me Up (Shiro x Reader)

Warnings: swearing, fake dating, reader has light anxiety

Word Count: 4,855

Prompt/Request: Shiro x femreader with the fake relationship trope?? bonus if they're childhood best friends and pining idiots

Summary: Reader has gotten herself into a bit of a pickle with a study group at school, thankfully a helpful Shiro agrees to pretend to date her to fix things. What happens when their feelings are more real than they want to pretend they are? Read and find out!

Author's Note: I don't usually write in 1st person, but I really wanted to try something new out. Readers, let me know if you liked it, please. Also, to the anon that requested this, I especially hope you like this and sorry it took so long. Bonus! If you want an enhanced reading experience go listen to the Ed Sheeran song by the same name.

Author: Mod Alex

I knew from the first time I met you that you're something absolutely spectacular. The second your family’s moving truck left, my mom was dragging me over, insistent on the fact that we needed to make the new neighbors feel welcome. I had seen you hiding behind your mom’s leg as our mothers talked. I had waved but that only seemed to make you shrink back more. You had looked so timid and scared back then, even more so when your mom told you to take me to the back so we could play. You had begrudgingly agreed, hiding behind a big oak tree. I followed unsurely. “Hey, are you okay?”

“L-mm-on.” You’d hidden your face in your knees, effectively muffling your voice.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

You peeked up. “Leave m’lone.”

I was taken aback but had sat down regardless. “I’m not mean y’ know. We could be friends?”

You hid her face again, but not enough to muffle your words. “Can you read?”

“Read? Um, mostly. I can’t read real big books. Oh, did you want me to read to you?” You nodded sheepishly and I grinned. “Cool! I’ll be right back, okay. You stay here.” I had run back to my house (which was right next door) and brought back my favorite storybook. “Huff… I’m back… huff… I wasn’t sure what kind of… huff… story you like, so I brought this.” I held the book out for you to see. You startled, but relaxed when you saw the book. A shy smile tugged at your lips and you nodded. So I read, and read, and read. I read until my voice began to fade away and the crickets began to sing. “Takashi, sweetie, are you out here?” In my voice that was fainter still, I bid you goodbye, before I could leave though you tugged me back to hug me briefly and ask if I still wanted to be friends. I, of course, agreed, which to this day, I believe was the best decision of my life.

I guess I must have won you over that day because you deemed me worthy of being your best friend. I was elated, of course. Sometimes we played pretend, other times we played hide and seek or tag. Sometimes we read right behind the great oak tree just like that very first day. It was the same way throughout the entire time we went to school. Sometimes, although I’d never tell you this, whenever I notice you’re having a rough day I’ll call and ask you if we can meet up under the oak tree in your backyard. I’ll read to you then, not because you can’t read (you can, beautifully if I do say so myself), but because it's tradition and because it makes you smile and goodness knows I’d do anything in the world to make you smile. Which is where we are now.

“Kashi?’ I pause, eyes leaving the page to look at you.

“Yes, (N/n)?”

Your eyes are closed, if it weren’t for the fact that you had just spoken I might have mistaken you for being asleep. It wouldn’t be the first time you'd have fallen into an easy slumber slumped against me in the shade of the mid-afternoon. “Do you think you could read me something a little different?”

“Of course!” The words left my mouth faster than I meant to let them, making me sound like an over-eager to please labrador, which I suppose when it came to you I absolutely was. You hummed happily, but the creases in your forehead indicated that something was off. “Anything in specific you’d like?”

You blinked your eyes open, sighing before picking yourself up off me to shuffle through your phone. “This?” I took the phone from you, containing my surprise from you. It wasn’t the first time you’d asked me to read you a romance, but I still couldn’t help the butterflies that would awaken in my stomach when you did. You resumed your spot leaning against me, closing your eyes again. Pushing back the urge to kiss your forehead, I began reading.

As I recited the meet-cute to you I couldn’t help but picture us; is that bad? That I can’t even read a simple story to you without picturing us as the ones sharing secrets, swapping longing glances and flirty remarks. It’s why I never choose romance novels. Because then Hazel melts away with the words into you, and suddenly it's not her telling Augustus the lines, but you telling me and I can’t handle it. I feel like I can literally hear your voice, soft and melodic reciting the lines; when I realize it’s not just my brain supplying a pining fueled fantasy, it really is you actually mumbling along with me "...As he read, I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once.” And even then it doesn’t slow my heart rate because why that line? The one line that makes sense in the situation we’re in. Do you have any idea what you’re doing to my heart?

We hadn’t even gotten halfway through when I heard you sniffle. My words faltered, resuming as I tried to steal glances at you. We had yet to even get to the sad part yet, so why? Eventually, I just gave up trying to theorize what might be wrong and stopped to gaze at you. Your wellbeing was my top priority after all. That’s the whole point of us sitting here, isn’t it? “(N/n), what’s wrong?” At this point, it was evident that you were crying. Your face was pressed into my arm, but I could still hear your sniffles. It broke my heart, to see you like this. Without a thought to be flustered over the intimate gesture, I cradled the side of your face, gently urging you to look up. “Hey, now, whatever’s troubling you, we’ll get through it.” You started to cry harder and I immediately felt the syrupy trickle of guilt through my veins. Had I said something wrong?

“It’s all my fault. I’m so stupid. Why do I always have to be such a fuckup, Kashi?” You wouldn’t meet my eyes, looking down pitifully. I wiped away a tear futilely.

“Hey, don’t talk about my best friend that way.” You giggled softly at that. “Really though, you aren’t a fuckup and as far as I’m concerned you’ve never done anything to deserve the berating you're giving yourself.” You sigh, leaning against my hand mumbling quietly.

“You’re sweet. But I really did fuck up this time.”

“What happened?”

“Do you remember when I told you about my group for my Fiction Writing class…”

“Yeah?” Of course, I remembered. Out of everybody in the group, you were the only one to take the assignments seriously, not to mention the guy you mentioned that kept hitting on you- Lotor was his name. I’m not a jealous person, but the thought of someone making you that uncomfortable for their own gain gets under my skin more than I’d like to admit.

“Well, um, it's just that they, um, they got it in their head that you and I, that we’re like, an, uh, an item? I-I was trying to tell them that we weren’t but they wouldn't let me get a word in, you know? Lotor said that that was the real reason I would have to reject his advances. And it was like they started kinda teasing me and I just didn’t know what to say anymore, so I told them that, uh, they could meet you… I’m sorry, you don’t have to, of course. I should’ve just tried harder to get them to listen to me. I should just, um, I can- I’ll just send Ezor a text. Word will definitely travel then...”

I frowned, listening as you continued to go further into your own head, curling in on yourself as you did. My heart twinged, was it so bad that I kind of wanted to play along? Wouldn’t it be a win-win anyway? The group you were in were not particularly nice people from what you'd told me and playing along with it would keep them from giving you shit, and well it didn’t hurt that I’d get to pretend to be your boyfriend… it might be the only chance I get. “What if… What if we just play along? I mean we already know everything about each other. It’d be easier than finding someone else or getting harassed every time you go to class. Anyways, it’s only until the end of the quarter.” And I was being sincere, regardless of my own personal interest, I would've done it for you. I’d do literally anything for you.

You stopped talking abruptly and looked at me with a look I couldn’t quite place. “You’d do that for me?”

I grinned. “Of course. It’d make it easier on you wouldn’t it?”

“I-I guess.” You bit your lip while you thought, a habit you’ve had since we were younger. “Yeah, okay... Yeah, this could work. Are you free Friday night?”

“Friday? What time, Matt and I have that conference.”

“Right, sorry I forgot. It’s, hmmm, let me check…” A beat of silence fell over us as you checked. “9:30?”

“9:30 is perfect.”

“Great! Okay, so the group is meeting up at the Lotor’s at 8, but the ‘study sesh’ doesn’t start till 9:30. Um, it’s really more of a party but Axca is bringing her notes, so I'd have to go either way. Also, I think they want to prove you are my boyfriend or whatever so…. Yeah.”

“I’ll pick you up at 7 and we can get something to eat before then. I have to take care of my girlfriend after all.” I was joking but saying it still made the butterflies stir up again.

You rolled your eyes and smiled. “Sure, sure. See you then, boyfriend.”

-

I’d gotten more dressed up than I may have needed to considering we were going to a college party, but I wrote it off on wanting to look good for the act we were about to put on, after all, it had to be believable right? And well it wasn’ too dressy, just nice. I didn’t look nearly as good as you, of course. When I picked you up, I’d nearly stumbled over my words. I felt like a teenager again, picking up my date for prom. You laughed when I offered you my arm, taking it anyway even though we didn’t have to put on the act just yet. “You like nice, are you ready to go?”

“As ready as I'll ever be," You fiddled with your jacket as you smiled shyly at me, "and thanks, you look good too."

My skin buzzed with a pleasant electricity at the compliment. “Thank you. Well hey, look at the bright side at the least we go eat now. I'm starving, the conference didn't break for lunch thanks to Matt.”

You laughed and I couldn’t help the smile that tugged at my lips, you looked so beautiful and carefree. “Alright, Mr. Matt-Didn’t-Feed-Me, where are we gonna eat at?”

“I was thinking Rover’s?”

We had started walking to my car, at least we were until you stopped in your tracks. “Rover’s? Isn’t that place kind of on the up-and-up?”

“Sure it is.”

“Won’t that be… kinda pricey. Shiro, I don’t think I can- I’ve got textbooks and supplies I still have to get for next quarter.”

I waved my hand, turning to grin at you. “I don’t remember saying I was going to make you pay.”

You huffed looking somewhere between uncomfortable and flustered. “I’m not letting you dump a ton of money on me.”

“Hey, look, I just got a bonus, alright. Let me take us out to dinner. We’re always talking about how we want to go there, so let’s just do it. I promise you there is nothing I want to spend my money on more.”

You grumbled, and before I knew it you had yanked me into a hug. “You are way too good to me.”

I let myself chuckle as I wrapped my arms around you in return. “No way, you deserve it.”

-

At Rover’s we had to park a little ways away. “Hi, we have a reservation for 8.”

The host smiled pleasantly looking at the screen in front of them. “Shirogane?” I nodded. “ Right this way.”

“You tricked me!” You whisper yelled at me as we followed the host.

“I did no such thing.”

“You didn’t tell me you already reserved a spot here.”

“It’s the only way to get in. Although I will say, I’m glad you agreed before we got here.”

You gently socked my arm and I acted hurt, sticking my tongue out playfully. “You ass.” Your broad grin betrayed your words, showing just how excited you were to be here.

"Name-calling, that’s not nice, (N/n). And to think I brought you here-”

“Oh my god, shut up you nerd.”

“Your table.” The host had stopped, watching the both of us with an amused expression. He was older, nearing his late fifties surely. “I remember when my husband and I were your age. We were just like you.”

I laughed, somewhere between disbelief and absolute delight. “Thank you, sir.” I heard you splutter, masking it as a cough. While the host began to walk away I winked at you. “We have to get into character, right?”

-

Dinner was spectacular, although we could have been at a Denny’s and I still would have had a great time with your company. That’s not to say going to Rover’s was overrated, it really was as good as we thought it would be. You seemed so carefree, it was nice to see you free of your usual anxious demeanor. That was a far stretch from how you looked now as we drove to an exclusive party that you had no want to go to. You were practically white-knuckling in the car. My hand found yours, the other still planted firmly on the steering wheel. I gave it a gentle squeeze. You didn’t say anything, but the squeeze you returned to my hand told me more than any words would have anyway. It was one of my favorite things about our friendship, we knew each other better than anyone else, no words necessary.

The house spanned almost a block, with a smattering of people, all in varying states of drunkenness, across the lawn and flocking in through the wide set of French doors. I got out first, moving to open your door, before offering my arm. “Oh my god, you cheeseball.” You took my arm gingerly despite your words, letting your hand slip down to mine once we started walking. Before we made it in I made it a point to stop you, leaning down towards your ear, letting you hear me over the loud thrumming from the music inside.

“I won’t let us get separated, okay, so don’t worry.” I paused for a moment trying to articulate my thoughts in the least embarrassing way. “And, I don't know how far you're comfortable with taking the act. I know we didn't talk about it too much, so if anything happens and you're uncomfortable let me know and I'll figure a way out of it, okay? Is there anything you want to avoid?" My face was burning, asking was important to avoid causing you any unnecessary panic, but it still felt odd asking what the limits of our fake-relationship were. When I pulled back enough to hear your response, you were just as flustered as I was.

“If the situation calls for it, almost anything. And I'll only go through with it if you’re okay with it too. Can we go inside?” Your voice, even as close to me as it was, was just barely over a whisper, your nerves evident. It reminded me of my own voice, ripe with longing in so many conversations we had had and I entertained the thought, even if only for the briefest of moments, that maybe you were pining for me too.

The inside of the house made the front lawn look like the prohibition. People were passed out at random parts of the room, narrowly avoiding the houseguests who were in the middle of sloppy make-outs. The whole thing felt like it was ripped from a cheesy teen film. You were still holding my hand, having taken the lead to drag me through the house to the enclosed back deck where people thankfully seemed to be a little soberer.

“(Y/n), you were able to make it good, and oh- I knew you two were a thing, although I will say I’m surprised.” Lotor’s posh voice rang clear through the chatter and although he didn’t outright say it, his meaning hung heavy in the air: he was demeaning you, saying he was surprised you’d managed to be dating me. Just another tactic to lower your self-worth enough for him to go in for the kill. I hated guys like that, who thought that 'negging' was an appropriate way to win someone over. Besides that, the idea was stupid and I wanted to tell him off, I’d die happy if you ever decided to grace me with being my girlfriend, for him to even insinuate that I was too good for you was absurd.

“I'm Shiro, nice to meet you. (N/n), has told me all about you all, it’s good to finally be able to put a face to the name.” I laughed hollowly, enough to give the random passerby the idea of a friendly interaction but cold enough to let Lotor know I didn't appreciate what he was doing, at least I hoped it did.

“Oh my goodness! So you and her are actually dating?!” A bubbly girl came over, hair in a long reddish-pink ponytail and with a drink in her hand; it was definitely not her first. Lotor threw her a look that screamed: "shut up". SHe didn't even notice.

I smiled warmly, squeezing your hand. “We are. For a while now actually. I honestly thought it was common knowledge?” I laughed, hoping she bought it. Her eyes widened, lips forming an ‘o’.

“Wow! I actually had no idea.” She leaned over to you, winking. “Nice catch. Axca is over there by the way, but you should stay a while. Y’know- eat, drink, be merry.” She giggled before swaying back over to a group of people she had been talking to.

“Come on, I need to talk to Axca.” You pulled me along by the hand, maneuvering through the crowd uneasily. I drew closer to you, hoping the close proximity eased your nerves the same way it eased mine. When we finally stopped, you stayed tucked under my arm, making warm contentment spread through my chest.

“(Y/n), Ezor sent you my way, I presume?” A girl with electric blue hair and a dark jacket sat on a relatively untouched sofa in the corner on her phone, her bag slung next to her.

“Yeah. I’m glad she didn’t send me on a wild goose chase. You have the notes, right?” She nodded but made no move to take them out. You shuffled next to me, words tumbling out of your mouth to fill in the silence that had stretched on for an uncomfortable amount of time. “Can I please have them? Parties aren’t really my scene…” After another beat of silence you continued, “... and Shiro and I already had plans so… yeah.” This caught Axca’s attention, her eyes darting from the screen of her phone to meet your eyes.

“Oh? So you’re still pretending?” She said it without a hint of amusement as if genuinely puzzled.

“Pretending?” You practically squeaked the word out before continuing, quickly covering up your shock. “What in the world are you talking about?”

Axca looked between us. “There’s no trace of you two being together in your online presence. The four of us all figured you were faking. Almost none of us actually thought you were dating him, Ezor just wanted to get a rise out of you and Lotor…” She paused, deciding that what she was going to say was better left unsaid. “So you two really have been dating? You don’t make it too obvious.”

I could practically feel you fuming beside me. “Just because we don't flaunt it like some Insta-couple doesn't mean we haven't been dating.” Axca shrugged, fixing you with a disbelieving and uninterested look. “I mean, really! Isn’t it bad enough that you all tease me all the time!? Now you’re trying to catch me in a lie that you all set up?!” You were shouting, the weeks worth of subtle bullying finally boiling over. It was garnering the attention of party-goers nearby.

“What’s going on?” A tall girl with curly space buns spoke, Ezor was leaning heavily against her side. She radiated intimidation and I felt you shrink against me. Still, you held your ground.

“You all set me up and I don’t appreciate that. Especially since Shiro and I are actually dating and he went out of his way to be here to prove as much to you all.”

“Is that so? Axca what did you find out?”

“Not much. They’re all over each other’s pages, but it’s not necessarily romantic.” She tossed the tall girl, Zethrid if my memory of your description was right, her phone.

Zethrid looked over the contents of the phone before laughing. “Prove it then, (Y/n).”

“That’s enough. I’m not just going to let you all taunt her while I stand here. Axca, was it? (N/n) is here for the notes you have. If you would kindly hand them over. As she's already told you all we have plans and I’d rather not have to postpone the date I planned with my girlfriend because you all think making fun of her is fun.”

“Is that so?” Lotor came strolling from behind us, a fourth woman leading him. She stood quiet, her gaze piercing.

I turned to him. “Yeah. It is.”

“Go on then, Prince Charming. If you love, (Y/n) so much, then why don’t you do something to prove it. Otherwise, I'm sure there's someone who could make her much happier.” He spared a glance at you.

"She's not a prize to be won-" I looked over at you, you’d taken to squeezing my hand. As I turned you grabbed me by the collar and before my brain had a moment to register what was happening you’d pulled me down to press a kiss to my lips. My mind raced and after a second for my mind to process what was happening, I wrapped an arm around your waist pulling you closer as we kissed. You were the first to pull back, a shy smile gracing your lipstick smudged lips. A whistle sounded in the back, along with some cat-calls. You didn’t seem to care, and honestly, I knew how you felt. It was like a bubble was around us as I leaned down to kiss you again.

I would have kissed you until the sun came up and the crowd dispersed but an arrogant voice broke through the haze. “Alright, we get it!” When we broke apart, Lotor stood silently fuming. “Axca give her the notes so they can leave.”

“But I thought-”

“Just give her the notes.” Axca did, fishing a perfectly labeled folder from her bag and handing it to you. As she did, Lotor moved

towards you with a barely hidden sneer on his face as he leaned down to whisper something to you. Clutching the folder, you jogged back over to me, taking my hand in yours as you did.

We made it outside, walking down the sidewalk to the car. The voices and blaring music fading quickly behind us. “Are you okay?”

You hadn’t looked at me, much less answered. We sat in silence even as my question hung in the air. “You kissed me.”

“What? I thought we agreed... You pulled me-”

“The first would’ve proven enough. But you kissed me a second time. Why?”

I couldn’t discern the odd tone of your voice. I felt jumpy all of a sudden. “I just- we had to convince them-”

“Was it just an act then?” You turned to me, tears quickly polling in your eyes. Guilt stung at my heart, I’d been selfish, thinking that maybe your feelings were the same as my own and instead I’d made you uncomfortable and confused. You deserve the truth at the least.

I took a slightly ragged breath. There were a million ways to tell you that I’d loved you since we were nothing more than two kids sitting with a book in our laps behind a tree, hell I’d even imagined it a handful of times, and yet not once did I think this would be how you'd find out. “No. No, I- I shouldn’t have done this. It’s never been an act, not for me at least. I never meant for it to go this far but then you kissed me and I thought- I should have realized it was just for the act. I’m sorry, I fucked up. You have every right to be mad at me, but please if there’s any way that we can still be friends. I don’t want to lose you.” I was rambling, but I couldn’t find the right words and I couldn’t fix it- couldn’t make the harsh feeling of rejection leave or take my actions back.

“Shiro.” Your hand came to cup my cheek, stopping me in my tracks. “Slow down. Let me get this right, you were never acting?” Your eyes glanced between mine as if searching for the truth. I nodded. “So you really wanted to take me on a date and kiss me?” I nodded again, trying to dip my head to hide my blushing features. The hand cupping my cheek stopped me. “How long?”

“What?”

“How long have you felt like this?”

I swallowed thickly. “How long? Um… yes?" A strained, nervous laugh escaped me, "I mean, I can’t even think of a time when I didn’t. M’sorry.”

I chanced a glance at you to see your reaction. I certainly wasn’t expecting you to be barely holding back a fit of giggles. Ouch. You must have seen me cringe because you quickly stopped. “Sorry, I’m sorry. It’s just, god, you mean to tell me we could have been doing this so much sooner?”

“I- what?” I couldn’t let myself believe what I was hearing. You rolled your eyes good-naturedly.

“You and I could have been dating for years now. Are we both seriously such disasters that we’ve literally been pining for each other for years?!” You sounded incredulous and I found myself laughing in disbelief along with you.

“I guess you’re right. So does that mean that we can…” My words faded away as we leaned towards each other.

“Please?” Your words ghosted over my lips, teasing me for what was only seconds away. In the warmth of the car we kissed, it was the same but different than the kisses from before. The same subtle taste of your cupcake chapstick and yet it was so much… More. Maybe it was because we both knew it was what we wanted or maybe it was just the knowledge that I would be allowed to do this again and again and again, but the feeling of kissing you was intoxicating, a sensation that I knew I would never be able to get enough of.

-

It had only been a week since we went to the party and confessed, but everything still seemed so perfect. Ironically, very little had changed. You were still my best friend, after all. We were sitting in our usual spot, I was reading out an original piece of yours, both to revise/edit it at your request and because I had been dying to read it. I’d finished it, marking out a few editorials and encouraging notes on the margins of the paper. As I wrote a thought came to mind. “I've been wondering something.”

“Oh?”

“What had Lotor said to you that night?”

You rolled your eyes, huffing with annoyance. “He said that when I had my heart broken by you that he’d be there for me to come groveling back to.”

“What a prick.”

“Right?”

“For the record, I will never break your heart.” You laughed.

“Thanks for the reassurance, casanova.”

“No problem, my love.” I grinned as your teasing expression gave way to a flustered one. You slipped your hand into mine, hiding your face on my arm.

“Mm-uff-oo.”

I chuckled, some things never changed. “I have no idea what you just said.”

You pulled back just enough to be heard. “I said, I love you.”

I smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I love you too.”

[maroonmorons]

Also since you said you'd like more prompts: Buck for some reason ending up holding a baby and Eddie sees it and despite the fact that they literally just got together and it is waaaay too early to think about it, Eddie's mind is already making up images of Buck holding their child while Chris peers down at his new sibling. Orrrrrr a story where Buck grows his hair out and Eddie (again) loses his shit because CURLS and the team teases him. - cinnamon roll anon

(ok so I started writing this and it got a wee bit crazy so hopefully you don’t mind adlfkslfnsdnf)

honesty means telling you the truth (buck/eddie, T, 2k) AO3

           “No, Daddy!Like Bucky’s!”

Hesitantly, meeting Christopher’s eyes in the mirror, Eddielowers the brush he’d been gently working through Christopher’s curls.

           “Like Bucky’s?”

           “Yeah!”Christopher insists. “Down.”

He jerks his hands in a sideways motion that’s apparentlysupposed to mimics Buck’s.

           “Mijo,”Eddie sighs, “I don’t know how Buck does his hair.”

           “Why not?”Christopher demands, as if it’s perfectly reasonable for Eddie to ask his bestfriend about his grooming habits.

           “I’m notsure. You can ask him next time you see him, okay?”

Christopher sighs but immediately pairs it with a softsmile.

           “Okay,Daddy.”

           “Daddydoesn’t have these luscious curls,” Eddie teases. “Daddy doesn’t know.” Heworks the brush through Christopher’s hair carefully before putting in a littlegel and tousling Christopher’s hair.

Truthfully, he’s not sure he wants to see his tiny son withsuch an adult, pulled together style. But, if it will make Christopher happy –Eddie is more than willing to adjust.

…

The day ends up being painfully long and Eddie nearlyforgets to mention the conversation to Buck.

It’s only when Buck emerges from the shower with his curlsstill doused and a towel around his shoulders to protect his fresh grey t-shirtthat Eddie thinks of it again.

           “You know,Chris asked me to do his hair like yours today.”

As expected, Buck’s entire face lights up.

           “No way,”he grins, “really?”

           “Really,”Eddie confirms. “He said ‘like Bucky’s!’” Eddie does a purposefully silly highpitched voice to imitate his son.

Buck grins so wide his eyes all but disappear.

           “He’d lookso cute. Then again…he always looks cute.”

Eddie almost puffs up his chest with pride, even thougheveryone in the station already knows how proud he is of Christopher.

“Chris is so young though,” Buck adds, expression turningsoft and thoughtful, “he should just have fun right now.”

Eddie arches a brow.

           “So, youdon’t have fun anymore?”

Buck scoffs.

           “Obviously,I have fun, Eddie. I just gel my hair because helmet hair, duh.”

           “What aboutwhen you’re not here?”

           “I don’tgel my hair when I’m just working out or chilling at home,” Buck says, shrugging.He pulls the towel from his shoulders as he approaches his locker, snapping thetowel playfully at Eddie even though they’re not close enough for it to makecontact.

           “You alwaysgel your hair when I see you,” Eddie points out.

Buck is silent for long enough that Eddie looks back up frombuttoning his own shirt.

Is Buck blushing? The back of his neck and what Eddiecan see of his cheek are tinged pink.

           “Just usedto it,” Buck mumbles finally.

           “You justsaid you don’t gel it every morning though,” Eddie argues.

He doesn’t know why he isn’t letting it go but…well, he justisn’t.

Buck sighs, half turning to Eddie.

Yeah, he’s definitely blushing.

           “It looksbetter, alright?”

           “Awwww,”Eddie coos. “You make sure you look nice for me, Buckley?”

           “You knowyou’re handsome,” Buck says.

His mouth does a funny little thing around the word handsome,as if he’d been about to say something else.

           “Do I makeyou feel insecure?” Eddie asks, frowning now.

Buck groans in response.

           “No, youdon’t. Okay? Just. Let’s talk about something else.”

Eddie finishes his shirt, letting Buck think he’s going tolet it go. Then, he crosses to his best friend and busts out his signaturemove.

His hand meets the juncture between Buck’s neck andshoulder. He presses just hard enough to convey his sincerity.

           “You cantell me, Buck.”

Buck sighs and rolls his eyes quickly before meeting Eddie’sgaze again.

           “My parentsgot me started doing it when I was young. So, it’s pretty much ingrained in menow.”

Eddie has to run his tongue over his teeth to keep himselffrom saying something rash.

           “Well,” hesettles on, “if you ever decide to let your curls down – you’ll matchChristopher.”

It’s enough to ease a smile back over Buck’s lips and Eddiecounts it as a win.

…

>> so Friday night..

Eddie frowns at his phone screen.

Is he forgetting plans?

Friday night?

>> I could come over

Buck supplies immediately.

>> spend the night and help Chris do his hair inthe morning

Eddie smiles at the thought immediately.

sounds great

He’s definitely gonna have to take pictures.

…

The week drags its feet all the way into Friday afternoon,enough that Eddie feels like he’s going to go crazy with it.

Everything is more than ready for Buck to come over. It’s tooclean, actually.

For all the shit Eddie gave Buck about trying to look goodfor him – he’s certainly trying to look good for Buck now.

Dios mío, Eddie thinks.

It’s a good thing his best friend can be oblivioussometimes.

If only Buck knew…

But it wouldn’t be a good idea to think about that now.

Buck won’t be here in the next five minutes but he will behere soon. Not to mention, Eddie can’t sneak off when he gets here either.

So, nope. Eddie will not be thinking about what Buck lookslike fresh out of the shower. He won’t be thinking about Buck growing his hairout so it would be long enough to hold onto. No – he certainly won’t bethinking about that.

Eddie takes a deep breath and thinks about getting a glassof ice water to drink.

Yup, think about ice, Eddie. Just think about ice.

Eddie’s will is tested increasingly as the night progresses.

First of all – they have popcorn with extra butter. This hasBuck constantly touching his lips and leaving shiny smears of butter along thepink curves.

Then, of course, he’s wrapping those same lips around theneck of his beer bottle to drink from it.

And (worst of all?) when they watch Air Bud Buckcries. He tries to hide it but he’s biting at those damn lips and making theseawful snuffling sounds that make Eddie want to duck and cover his way right outof the room.

Finally, Eddie has to smack the side of his arm where it’slying across the back of the couch.

Luckily, Christopher remains oblivious between them.

What the hell? Eddie demands with his eyes.

On screen the golden retriever is eating pudding excitedly.

Judging by the tilt of Christopher’s head he’s concerned buthe’s certainly not as affected as Buck.

But Buck just squints at Eddie before hunching his shouldersand crossing his arms.

Eddie doesn’t miss the way Buck’s hand keeps sneaking up tothe corners of his eyes for the next several minutes.

Eddie doesn’t check on Buck verbally until the movie isover.

           “You good?”

There – that’s safe. He could just be asking if Buck is tootired. Right? Right.

Buck shoots him a smile that Eddie examines for a longmoment before allowing himself to relax.

           “Fine, Eds.You good?”

Eddie nods in confirmation and Buck immediately leans downto Chris.

“And what about you, Superman? You good?”

           “I’m good,Bucky,” Christopher says, only half yawning.

           “Good.”

Buck looks to Eddie again, cheeks darkening when he seesEddie still watching him.

For a split second, it sends a sliver of unease throughEddie.

Does Buck know?

He can’t.

Right?

Christopher only makes it through half the next movie beforedropping off and Eddie carries him to bed before helping Buck clean up.

He makes sure Buck’s set up in the guest room before making hisway to his own bed.

He may or may not sigh wistfully to himself on the way thereand once he’s settled in.

…

When Eddie makes his way to the coffeemaker the followingmorning he sees there’s already coffee brewed.

As he makes himself a cup, he listens to giggles coming fromthe bathroom.

By the time he walks back down the hallway there’s a smileon his face.

Buck and Christopher are side by side in the mirror,Christopher grinning into the mirror as Buck touches up the sides of hisperfectly gelled hair.

Buck’s hair is still surprisingly gel free and damp from ashower. He must have been up even earlier than Christopher.

           “Okay,”Buck says, “now for the finishing touch.”

He helps Christopher put his glasses back on, fingertipslight against Christopher’s head.

           “I looklike you, Bucky!”

           “You do,”Buck agrees, grinning right back at the boy. “And I look like you!”

Fuck, Eddie thinks vaguely.

Buck is going to be the death of him. Sooner rather thanlater it looks like.

           “Mijo, youlook so old!” Eddie teases. “When are you moving out?”

Christopher giggles.

           “Never,Daddy!”

           “Good.”

Eddie squeezes into the bathroom and sets his mug on thecounter so he can pick Christopher up.

           “I love you,Son.”      

           “I love youtoo. And Bucky.”

Christopher wraps both arms around Eddie’s neck even as hesays it, so Eddie’s not too bothered.

Eddie deposits Christopher at the table in the kitchen, arelieved smile fitting itself to his lips as he sees Buck brought his coffeeout behind them.

           “Thank you,”he says, accepting the mug. “Your curls are adorable, Buckley.”

Predictable, by now, Buck blushes in response.

           “Well, they’renot all smooshed from my helmet or my pillow. So…they look alright.”

Eddie’s not sure he’s allowed. But he’s also not sure he’llever have the chance again.

Disguising his nerves by taking a sip of coffee, he reachesout with his left hand to run his fingers through Buck’s curls.

There’s more hair than Eddie expected and his fingers curlwithout his permission.

Before he realizes it he’s got a handful of Buck’s hair anda mouthful of coffee. Eddie’s brain is painfully unable to determine what to dowith either.

Slowly, his brain starts to crank into action again.

He lowers the mug in his right hand and carefully swallows thehot coffee. Then, he forces himself to release Buck’s hair.

           “I, uh,didn’t know your hair was so long.”

           “Yeah,”Buck says, “curls are, uh, deceptive. I should get it trimmed, actually.”

           “Don’t.”

Fuck. You were almost out of the woods, Diaz.

           “Um,” Buckhalf smiles. “Why not?”

           “It…looksgood,” Eddie says lamely.

           “Does itfeel good?”

           “I…”

           “You?” Buckprompts.

           “Should makebreakfast.”

           “Okay,”Buck agrees, letting him off the hook.

Eddie has a feeling it has a lot more to do with Christophersitting at the table than anything else.

…

The locker room is empty when Eddie arrives for the nextshift and he changes perfunctorily.

He doesn’t see Buck until he gets upstairs and he verynearly stops in his tracks.

Buck’s hair is defined with gel but not brushed in anyspecific direction.

He looks amazing.

More than that though, what’s got Eddie’s stomach curling inon itself, is that Eddie knows it’s for him.

Buck has a smile that looks like it’s just for Eddie as heapproaches.

Eddie can’t help but think that yeah, that smile probably isjust for him.

           “Hey,” Bucksays.

           “Hey,”Eddie returns.

He has literally no idea who is upstairs with them. He hasn’tlooked yet and doesn’t much care.

“Your hair looks nice.”

           “Thanks.”

Buck blinks twice rapidly.

“I thought maybe if I did something for you, you’d dosomething for me?”

Even though he feels breathless, Eddie forces himself to respond;

           “Yeah?”

           “You couldask me on a date,” Buck suggests.

           “Is thatsomething you want?” Eddie can’t help but ask.

           “Don’t youalready know?” Buck demands after huffing out a laugh.

Eddie tucks his hands in his pockets and lifts both shouldersin a shrug.

           “Chim, Chim,”Hen is whisper shouting, “get up here, it’s happening. It’s happening!”

Buck and Eddie both ignore her.

           “Yes,Eddie, I would like to go out with you. Now, will you actually ask me out?”

           “Can we grabsome dinner next time we’re not both here?”

           “Yeah. CanChris come for the first part?”

He’s gonna be the death of me.

           “Yeah,”Eddie agrees faintly. “He can.”

For the first part.

Still, might not be a bad way to go…

[l8rhader]

25/35 reddie.

Let's go take two. Sorry anon, I'm writing this on my phone so it's short and tumblr are the first one. This actually... let's call this director's super cut for the everything has changed verse.

The constant drone of the breathing machine, the click of the I.V. and the steady beeping of the heart monitor had all but blurred away in Richie's head. The hospital in Bangor only allowed two at a time and, since he refused to leave his side, the rest of the Losers took turns. At this point, they were more keeping an eye on Richie than Eddie.

Richie added the 21st Sharpie tally mark to Eddie's wrist, contemplating giving him a full sleeve of tattoos. Instead, he held Eddie's right hand between his gently. Bev sat to his right, tracing small circles over his shoulders. "Squeeze my hand if you can hear me," Richie coaxed, pressing a kiss to the other man's thumb. "Come on, Eddie. Give me something." He lifted his hand, careful not to disturb any of the wires and tubes. "Eddie, I've never gone this long without hearing your grating, snippy voice." Bev watched him sadly. Three weeks had elapsed since their boss battle with It. In that time, Richie had gone to extremes trying to get Eddie to wake up, even though he understood that it was medically necessary for him to heal. "I'm going to lick your face and I haven't brushed my teeth in..." he paused, realizing he couldn't give an actual number, settling on "a long time. Please." He closed his eyes and rested his head on their entwined hands. "Please, Eddie," he whispered, a prayer to the only entity he'd ever worshiped.

Leaning into him, Bev's voice quivered. She hadn't been surprised in the least when he finally broke down and told each of the Losers the truth about his relationship with Eddie. The minute they met up in the parking lot of Jade Of The Orient, she could tell. If they were hiding it, they obviously had their reasons. "Richie, honey, come on," she cooed, trying to walk back the breakdown she could hear coming. "The doctors said..."

"Look, Bev, I love you," he said, a little shorter than he'd intended, turning to face her sharply, but with no malice, just exhaustion. He slid his glasses up onto his head and closed his eyes. "but please don't go there. I know what they said." They said if he wakes up. They said if the swelling goes down. They said if it had been an inch higher... They said if so many fucking times that Richie thought he would rather fight the next person who said the fucking word to him than listen to another hypothetical situation.

"You can't do this to yourself," Beverly said, combing her fingers through the mess of curls his hair had become. "We got him out. He's safe."

Richie choked out an incredulous laugh. "Safe." That took some nerve. Safe would be their bed, 3200 miles from Derry. Safe requires the person in question to be awake. He couldn't believe her. "You of all people should understand." Watching his friend blink at him, he sighed. "In the deadlights... I saw him die." A sob escaped with his admission, forcing him into another fit of tears. "I saw him die and we left him there. You guys dragged me away and I couldn't fucking do anything." He vaguely registered Bev's arms encircling him, but that was little comfort to Richie. "I came to and he was on top of me and I did everything I could. He still wound up kebabbed. He still..."

"I know," she said, resting her cheek against his head.

"Do you?" he snapped. Bev moved back instinctively and he regretted it immediately. "What if it was..." Watching her shift uncomfortably at the suggestion, he merely grumbled, "forget it." He was so fucking tired. He nodded his glasses back down onto his nose and returned his gaze to Eddie.

She swallowed thickly, thinking the whole situation through. "If it was Ben?" If it was Ben... she thought what would have happened if Pennywise had slit his throat while she and Mike held him. If he'd drowned in the dirt, grasping for her hand. She couldn't have handled it. She couldn't even imagine if they'd been together since they were kids. "It's different. It's new," she admitted, finally agreeing that his reaction wasn't so far fetched, "but I'd be inconsolable.

"Exactly. So stop wasting your breath," he said, unable to bring himself to look at her. She got to go back to the Townhouse, crawl into bed with good ol' Haystack, feel his arms around her, wake him up when she has a nightmare, kiss him, talk to him...

Likewise, Bev couldn't look at Richie. She had no reason to feel guilty, but still... Staring at the too-even rise and fall of Eddie's chest, she shook her head. He wasn't dead. He was there. "Look. Watch the monitor," she instructed, pointing to the jagged lines of his heart rate. "He's alive," she reminded him gently, sliding one of his hands up to Eddie's wrist. "Feel right here. His heartbeat is right here and you're not imagining it. He's not going anywhere." She regained the courage to look at Richie. "They're gonna start weaning him off the meds in the morning, so he should be awake by dinner tomorrow." Richie sniffled unevenly, nodding. "Why don't you come back to the townhouse and get some sleep." She suggested, returning her hand to his shoulders. "Shower. Eat real food. He's gonna need you in good shape when he wakes up."

Blinking out the last of his tears, Richie shook his head, knowing that she was prepared for him to decline, like he had every night. "I haven't slept anywhere but beside him since we were seventeen. I doubt I could even if I wanted to."

"Richie..."

"I'm not leaving," he repeated.

Bev sighed, standing up and straightening her back. "Okay, honey. Okay. Call me before you go to sleep." She leaned across him and kissed Eddie's cheek gently. "Love you, Eds." On her way by, she stopped and wrapped Richie in a tight hug, kissing the top of his head. "Love you, Trashmouth."

He gave a humorless laugh, and reached up to pat her hair. "Love you too."

That night was the slowest one since the first couple, when everything had been touch and go. He called Bev around 12:30 and swore he was going to sleep. He didn't. Instead, he watched cheesy, nostalgic movies on his phone, all Eddie's favorites; Dirty Dancing, then Pretty in Pink. He marked the 22nd tally as Duckie sent Andi off after Blaine, the only part of the movie RIchie couldn't get behind. Still, Eddie had told him he loved him for the first time to the strains of the song from the end of this movie so he could never shut it off. And it had been 22 days without talking to the love of his life. 22 soul sucking days. Eventually, he dozed off about two-thirds of the way through The Outsiders.

All-too-soon, he was awakened by the bustle of shift change and nurses doing their thing and the whole process started over. Around 8 a.m., the morning nurse came in. Richie had hardly noticed, in a sort of daze.

"Mr. Tozier?" she asked, quietly.

Snapping back to reality, he nearly dropped Eddie's hand. "Oh, sorry," he said, shaking the fog from his brain. Eddie really needed to wake up now.

"You're fine," she insisted, bringing a bag of liquid to the stand by the bed and a handful of small bottles. "Just scoot back for me a little, please." She hung the bag and screwed it into Eddie's I.V. line, then affixed the bottles.

Squinting to make out the labels, as though he'd have any idea of their purpose, Richie decided instead to just ask the nurse. "What's that for?"

She smiled and put her hand on his shoulder. "To start countering the sedative before we back it off."

Richie took a deep breath. "Okay," he nodded. His heart hammered in his chest. They were actually going to wake him up today.

"Can I get you anything?" the woman asked sweetly.

As though Richie was the one anyone needed to worry about. He shook his head and managed the weakest of smiles. "You're already working on the only thing I could possibly ask you for."

She leaned against the empty sliding table and eyed him carefully. "How about a coffee and a bagel?"

Richie paused. He hadn't eaten since lunch time the day prior, so it wasn't a bad idea. "I'd appreciate it. Thank you," he said, realizing that maybe Bev had been right.

If Richie had thought that night was long, he was in for the most torturously slow day. Nurses in and out. Medicines of all sorts. He didn't know what to do with himself, so he just... stared. Asked questions. Finally, the nurses administered the last of the rounds Eddie would need to wake up and Richie was left alone to his thoughts.

After two episodes of I Love Lucy, he leaned in as close to Eddie as he could. "Do you remember the first time we did this?" he asked, knowing there would be no response. "When you had your tonsils out and I snuck in like a fucking ninja as soon as I saw my beloved Sonia leave?" He gave a bitter laugh, imagining what good ol' Mrs. K would do seeing Eddie laid up like this with that dirty Tozier boy still by his side. "The woman couldn't manage to sleep in the chair for one night." He gave a mischievous smile for the benefit of no one. "But, experienced as I was in the art of finding ways to see my Eds, I sweet talked the nurse into letting me stay." He certainly hadn't done a great deal of sweet talking anyone this time. That had been Mike, plus a good deal of good faith from Bev and Bill. But he'd certainly known how to work adults when he was a kid. "I snuck you in a pint of real ice cream and we played gameboy in bed together and, even though I tried to get you to shut up, you couldn't let me do all the talking and even though it hurt, you still laughed and joked." He took a deep breath, realizing he was rambling. He stared up at the ceiling, blinking back tears once more. "God, and I thought I was in love with you then," he groaned. It was almost hysterical how he still felt like that same clueless teenager. "I don't know what 14-year-old Richie would think of 39-year-old Richie but I hope he'd enjoy knowing that he's still in love with you." He sniffed, giving in to the tears because what else was he supposed to do. He rolled his eyes, adding "He'd probably call me a pussy for all the crying I've done in the last three weeks but that's fine. It's normal. It's whatever," he dismissed darkly, voice thick and nasally. "He's a teenager. What the fuck does he know? Bug eyed little creep," he laughed, pawing the tears from under his glasses. "How to keep the person he loves in one piece. Something that apparently fades with age," he waited for a response again, mainly out of muscle memory. He stood and propped himself awkwardly on the edge of the bed. He took a much more serious, exhausted tone. "I need you to laugh, babe. I need you to wake up and bitch at me for my rumpled shirt and greasy hair and getting snot on you and crying and getting you stabbed in that fucking sewer." He sighed, leaning back a little to just watch him. He could have sworn he saw... he shook his head. That wasn't possible. It was wishful thinking. "Eddie, please," he started, but cut himself when he saw a pair of startled, panicked brown eyes staring up at him, gagging on the respirator. "Holy shit. Hi," he sobbed, stroking his side, momentarily at a loss for what to do. Suddenly, he refocused and remembered the nurse's instructions. Keep him calm and hit the emergency call button immediately. "Okay, stay calm, babe," he said, springing from his seat and hitting the bright red button on the remote for the TV. "We'll get them to take this out." He took Eddie's hand and stroked it, trying to ward off the look of sheer terror in Eddie's face. "Stay calm, okay," he cooed. Hearing footsteps outside the door, Richie called out frantically "Miss Kim!"

"What do you need, baby?" she asked, seemingly startled by the call. When she pulled back the curtain, she flew into action mode. "Oh! Mr. Kaspbrak, welcome back." Eddie choked a little against the machine and Richie felt his chest constrict. "Don't fight the tube, sweetie," she said warmly. "We'll get this out of here. Relax." Eddie locked eyes with Richie, then nodded and finally squeezed his hand. The nurse gave them a little smile, "Cough a couple times for me." Eddie, ever the good patient, did as he was instructed. Miss Kim raised a small hooked tool and pointed it out to the men. "This is gonna suck the fluids out. Okay?" Eddie nodded and coughed again. "I know, I know," she soothed. "Alright, I'm gonna ask you to take a couple of deep breaths, tell you to hold one, then when you push all that air out, I'm going to extract the breathing tube. Okay?" She was talking to Eddie, but for some reason, Richie nodded too, then admonished himself for it. "Alright. In." He did. "Hold." He did. "Out." He did. Miss Kim pulled the tube out and Richie had to try not to wince as he watched the outline of it move up his windpipe. "Attaboy," she said, nodding proudly and patting him on the shoulder as he caught his breath. "It's nice to see you. I'll let your husband have a minute before we continue."

"Hi," Eddie said, voice raspy and quiet.

Richie fought against the urge to fling himself on top of him, instead nearly collapsing onto the bed rail and grasping his hand. "Eddie. Oh my god. You're awake. You're alive. I was so scared. God, I love you. I love you so much. You're here," he babbled, unable to pry his eyes from Eddie's- God, had they always been that beautiful?

"Did we..." Eddie asked, then his eyes darted to the nurse.

Richie smiled broadly, then broke into wrecked sobs. "We did. It's over. Everyone's okay and It's gone. It's not gonna bother us ever again." He leaned his forehead against Eddie's, tears smattering down on him and he couldn't be bothered to care. "We never have to fight It again."

Eddie nodded slowly, taking the minimal information in. It was over. They won. "Will you shut up so I can kiss you?" he asked, wincing.

"If I'd have known that that was all it took to get a kiss out of you, I'd have been quiet as a mouse for the last-" From behind him, he heard Miss Kim laugh and blushed, nodding. "Sorry. I'm shutting up."

Richie leaned forward and let Eddie reach up into his hair, pulling him into a warm kiss that, if Eddie had noticed the taste of stale instant coffee or the slick of unwashed hair or tears still streaming down Richie's face mingling with the ones starting to fall from his own, he'd never mention it. It was, for his money, possibly the best kiss they'd ever shared. When he opened his eyes again, he caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye. "What the fuck is this?" Eddie asked, laughing at the group of black slashes on his wrist.

Richie laughed, too. He couldn't even begin to explain the scattered mess in his head without Eddie to help balance it out. Instead, he kissed the inside of Eddie's palm, where the 27 year old scar no longer lived and felt himself relax back into the chair. They were free of It.

[hoewkeyesblue]

Lego House

Requests: “richie tozier? like he gets hat or something in high school and she doesn't think he likes her back cause he can literally get any girl but like fluff at the end and they end up together” by anon “richie x reader cuddlinggg” by anon and “cuddling w richie after he fights w his parents?” by anon

Pairing: Richie Tozier x reader

Summary: Richie used to be your best friend, but you couldn’t stand it anymore after you fell in love with him. Richie, otherwise, lives with his own demons.

Word count: 1.8K (what the fuckkkkk i made it!!!)

Warnings: slightly angst.

Song: Lego House — Ed Sheeran. (So, probably none of you realized that all my stories has songs as titles. These songs I use are really important to understand the story better, things I didn’t wrote and want you to see).

A/N: I don’t even know what to say. This is my first ever story (writing in english) with 1000+. I just loved everything about it and hope you like it as much as I do.

ALSO, I‘LL PUT THE “READ MORE” TOMORROW BECAUSE I’M NOT WITH MY COMPUTER RIGHT NOW.

— Tagging @marvelismylifffe

It was hard.

Exams, extracurricular activities, family issues and, of course, him. Richard (“you can call me Richie, you know”, he likes to say) Tozier. Richie and his messy curls. Richie and his sarcastic and lovely smile. Richie and his glasses — when he didn’t bother to put his lens on.

Damn it, Richie Tozier.

It was so fucking hard. Trying to survive high school with all those factors.

Damn it, high school.

Damnit, damnit, damnit.

“Y/N?” you heard Selena’s calm voice shouting you out and looked up at her. “Earth’s calling. Let’s go to class”, she said and you bit your lower lip.

You quickly walked to your class, don’t looking twice at Richie sitting on one of the desks with some of his girl friends. Swallowing unnecessarily, you almost ran to your desk and sat down.

Damn it, Richie Tozier.

Mrs. Lockhart walked into the classroom; she was the chemistry’s teacher and you couldn’t say she was a bitch or whatever. Amanda Lockhart was a very nice professor and everyone loved her.

Richie looked up at her, smiled and then took a few steps to sit by your side — every student had a preset place to sit in every class. It wasn’t a way to stop students to chat - everyone knew it wouldn’t happen - but a way to increase the work; if a teacher noticed that two people were working good together, they would demand them to sit side by side.

You and Richie were friends and kinda nerds; you just worked really well together and that’s the only reason why he sits with you — or that’s what you think.

“Sup, Y/N/N?”, he shouted and you sat down, licking your lips. You just couldn’t deal with him right now, not after seeing him flirting with two girls at the same time.

You know how dumb it seems, but Richie Tozier is constantly hurting you without even knowing it.

Damn it, Richie Tozier.

“Hey, Richie”, you replied, avoiding eye contact.

“Woah, calling me Richie. Something must be fucking wrong”, he noticed and you rolled your eyes, biting your lower lip to prevent a smile.

“I’m just tired, Tozier. Now pay attention and give me a rest”, you sneered.

“Y/N Y/L/N is asking me to give her a rest, ladies and gentlemen!”, Richie announced and you couldn’t contain your laugh.

“Shut up, dumbass”, you laughed.

After that, you tried to ignore him for the rest of the class but it obviously didn’t work. It wasn’t the first time you felt bad for being in love with him and certainly wasn’t the first time you tried to forget about his existence.

“I know nothing about this subject, for fucks sake!”

Richie complained about the same thing for 1 hour straight, glancing you looks through intervals of two minutes or less.

“Oh, God, Richard!”, you finally said when the bell rang. “I’ll teach you, stop being so annoying”, you begged and he faked an outraged expression.

“I’m not annoying!”, he laughed.

“Of course you aren’t”, you mocked as you left the classroom, but your smile faded when Richie placed his arms around your waist.

No, it wasn’t a bad thing. Of course it wasn’t.

You just... fuck. You felt your heart thumping and your knees weakening. You couldn’t stop yourself of imagining you and Richie dating; him being in love with you too, you being able to kiss him and pet his hair every time you wanted to, without feeling embarrassed about it.

“So... you coming to my house later?”, he asked as you stopped by your locker.

“Yeah, of course. At 8’?”

“Whenever you want, Y/N/N”, the tall boy winked at you, making you roll your eyes. “But seriously, thank you for helping me”, and then you felt Richie’s lips on your cheek before he walked away.

Damn it, Richie Tozier.

———

Richie was yelling in one of his voices while fighting with his parents, you heard. Freezing and holding your breath, you turned around to get away from there.

You couldn’t put yourself into Tozier’s business and definitely didn’t want to bother Richie; he was going through something and probably didn’t want to deal with you — and chemistry — right now.

“Where ya going?”, his raspy voice echoed behind you and you slowly turned back to face him.

You didn’t hear the yells stopping and the door opening. It was always like that; being concerned, then stressed and anxious, and then disoriented. The rest of world faded and all you could feel was your heart in your throat, choking you and making it hard to breath.

“Oh, hey, Richard!”, you forced a smile, trying to sound the most natural as possible. “I was... uh...”

“Never mind, come in”, Richie invited and you froze again, not knowing what you should do. “Y/N?”, he insisted in a soothing tone.

You nodded, looking around before entering his house. Richie placed his arms around your shoulders, guiding you straight to his room; as soon as both of you entered, Richie walked to his wardrobe and took a vodka bottle out of it.

“Richard, what the hell!”, your heart wrenched. “Put it down, you’re seventeen and-“

“Cut it. It’s not like we never got drunk before,” he answered as he opened the bottle, getting ready to drink.

“Oh, for fucks sake, how about NO?”, you hissed and lurched to him, taking the bottle off his hands. “You’re going to sit and calm the fuck down. We’re not drinking to forget about our problems, Richard Tozier!”, you stated and growled when he rolled his eyes.

Trying to calm yourself, you took a long breath and asked in a soft tone: “What happened, Rich?”

“Oh, please... don’t bring it right now. I don’t need my parents bullshit right now. I wanna be in peace, for fucks sake. I want to have a cool, fun night. I want to forget everything”, Richie begged.

You reflected for a few seconds, don’t wanting to see him in pain or in agony or whatever was bothering him. You observed Richie siting in his bed and, cautiously, you minced to him, stopping in front of the curly-haired boy.

“Do you wanna study?”, you asked uncertainly.

“Nah. Not really”, he looked up to you. You found yourself admiring his freckles and tried to push that away.

“What do you wanna do, then?”

“I- can we just talk? About life, whatever, just like we used to do...”, your heart weeped as he placed his arms around you, pulling you closer. “You walked away, you know? I don’t think you’ve realized... but one day you were there with me and the other day... you wasn’t.”

“Richie, I-“

“You what? What the fuck happened?”

“I just thought I wasn’t that important anymore. You grew up, made great and popular friends... and I’m still the same”, oh, and of course, I fell in love with you, you’ve finished the sentence in your thoughts.

Richie laughed hysterically and you would step back if his arms weren’t around you. “Are you kidding, right? I don’t believe it, Y/N. I know you too well. You wouldn’t step off if there wasn’t a real reason. Spill it already”, he demanded.

“I don’t want to”, you whispered, making Richie sighs in frustration. “Can we just... talk about life? It’s hard to me to see your eyes like that...”.

“Like what?”, he asked with a sad smile.

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about it”, you smiled softly. “But... I like the way your eyes glow, always full with excitement or happiness and things I know I could never understand, almost as they’re...”, you stopped to think, your hands now on his cheeks.

“Haunted”, Richie completed but didn’t wait for your response. “How my eyes are now?”

“They’re... glowing, as always, but also... sad, dark”, you finally said. “Maybe there’s something else, but I can’t read you right now, Richie. It’s hard to understand what’s happening.”

He didn’t answer; the curly boy was looking at you with full admiration, almost hypnotized.

“May I kiss you?”, he asked and you froze.

“What?”, your voice failed, but he just placed his hand on your neck and pulled you closer, kissing you softly.

Warmth spread through you and you felt your knees weakening, but kissed him back. Your hand searched for his hair and started petting it, feeling his taste in your mouth.

Unfortunately, the air made itself necessary and Richie parted the touch.

“I’ve always wanted to do this”, he whispered to himself and you blinked, confused.

“Always- what?”

“Did I say it out loud?”, he moaned.

“Yeah, you did. What the fuck, Richard!”, you yelled, almost punching him in the face. “Why didn’t you tell me this before, you asshole?”

“Because- what! Because you walked away!”

“I walked away because I fell in love with you, you big douche!”, you whimpered and he stared at you with wide eyes and raised eyebrows.

“So- do you want to be my girlfriend or something? That’s it?”, he was shocked.

“Yeah, Richard, I want to be your girlfriend or something. Are you asking me to or...?”

“Maybe I am”, he smirked.

“In that case... maybe I am saying yes to that”, you smiled.

You heard a door slamming outside Richie’s room. You screamed and Richie chuckled for a few seconds before closing his eyes; it was one of his parents and, again, he was in suffer.

“Hey, do you still want to talk about life?”, you tried to distract him.

“With you? Always”, and then he laid on his bed. “Come here?”, he asked and you didn’t think twice; crawled into his bed and laid by his side. Richie placed his arms around your waist, hugging you from behind. “That’s what I meant when I said a perfect night”, he said in a casual tone.

“Can I ask you something?”, you said after long minutes cuddling with him and he just mumbled something you took as a yes. “I was wondering... why you never used one of your voices with me?”

Richie spent almost five minutes quiet and you thought he fell asleep but, all of sudden, he replied:

“Sometimes I use my voices to hide myself. I’m sad, scared, trying to fit in? I’ll use them, I’ll try to be other person and, in that way, the reasons I get sad for doesn’t exist anymore. The same for everything that scares me”, he explained. “I became indestructible and... with you, I don’t need to be anyone else. I feel safe being myself because you give me confidence enough for that”, he finished and you couldn’t help but smile.

That was a question that have always bothered you, but when he explained you felt a hundred times better.

“Rich?”, you whispered. “You are indestructible with or without your voices. That’s one of the things I love about you.”

“Love you, Y/N. A lot.”

Damn it, Richie Tozier.

———

Requests rules here.

[tr4shmouth-tozi3r]

Just let me help you - reddie

requested: yes, get ready for the fluff anon

summary: We all know Eddie is a complete germaphobe and we also know Richie is the type of boy who doesn’t wash his hair for four days. How did these boys ever fall in love? One day, Eddie has an accident when the Losers run into the Bowers gang and yes, there are lots of germs and anxiety and mouth breathing bullies, so Richie offers to help Eddie. “Just let me help you, for fuck sake, Eds.” “Since when did you grow a heart, asshole? DON’T TOUCH ME, RICHIE!”

pairing: richie tozier x eddie kaspbrak 

warnings: swearing, bullying, slight physical assault bc henry and his goons are deranged assholes so, and loooooads of reddie fluff so be careful u might die:’)

-

“So, do you guys think they’re ever gonna shut up?” Mike asked the rest of his friends as they all stood still, all of their eyes glued to the two boys before them. They watched as the pair bickered with each other. They all wondered if the two ever got tired of it. 

“Well, not until one of them admits they’re in love with the other. So, I guess that means never.” Stan joked, but the losers all knew it was true. These boys were madly in love and showed their love for each other in the ugliest of ways. Society was such a cruel thing. 

“Oh boy, did you hit that nail right on the head or what?” Bev scoffed with a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Listen, Eds-”

“Do not call me that, Tozier! How many goddamn fucking times do I have to tell you that!?” The smaller boy yelled in frustration as he gripped his fanny pack in one hand while he wagged his finger at the taller boy with his other hand. Eddie would never admit it, but God did he love that nickname.

The taller boy laughed, a shit eating grin adorning his face as he pushed his thick rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose and ran his hand through a knot forming in his tight black curls.

Richie loved to tease Eddie. He loved to get a rise out of the smaller boy. He would never admit that he loved the way Eddie would huff at him in anger and his face would heat up instantly and he would let himself get so worked up over every little thing Richie would do to him. He loved having that control over him. He loved him. 

“It was a fucking accident, chill. How come you weren’t this mad when you saw me leaving your house last night after I fucked your mom? C’mon man, priorities.” Richie scolded the boy playfully, a smirk on his face and his head shaking disapprovingly.  

“Alright, that’s it! THAT’S IT!” Eddie threw his hands up in the air as he turned on his heel and hastily picked his bike up. He tried his hardest to hide the smile threatening to come across his lips. He wouldn’t dare to let Richie know he enjoyed this shit. Richie laughed loudly as he voiced his not so sorry apology. He glanced at their friends and shrugged in amusement and they all rolled their eyes knowingly.

“D-D-Do th-they suh-seriously think that w-w-w-we don’t kn-know?” Bill asked with a giggle.

“Don’t know what?” Richie sauntered over to the group and threw a glance back at Eddie who was about to take off and he secretly hoped he wouldn’t.

“Noth-“ Ben went to elaborate and was quickly cut short.

“Hey, queer boy.”

“Uh oh.” Ben whispered.

They all turned and watched as Henry and his goons circled around Eddie, who at this point was stood still on his bike supporting himself on one leg with his other foot hovering over one of the pedals. His body was stiff and his arms began to tremble as his anxiety rose through him.

“Hey, shit bag, leave him alone!” Richie’s expression hardened and he stepped forward slightly.

“Richie, don’t.” Eddie’s shaky voice called out.

“Aw, how sweet. Your little boyfriend thinks he can save you. How silly.” Henry’s shrill laugh made them all cringe.

“Bowers, back off.” Mike spat the words so harshly that Henry’s head snapped towards them.

“I suggest you back off, blackie.”

“Alright, applause to the biggest douchebag around. So you’re an asshole and you’re racist. You must have a great resumè.” Richie just didn’t know when to shut up apparently. Henry looked at his friends, nodding his head toward the group. Patrick and Belch walked in their direction, knocking Richie down in the process and his glasses right off of his face.

“Look at you, losers. How pathetic are you? The little nerdy gay boy is the only one with balls? Ha.” Henry spoke to them, but his gaze stayed upon Eddie as he made eye contact with the boy and each word dripped with hostility.

Richie quickly grabbed his spectacles and took the hem of his hawaiian button up, wiping at the lenses rather quickly. He couldn’t see and if he couldn’t see that meant he was vulnerable and Richie couldn’t stand that, “Fuck you, dickwad!” He scrambled to his feet, only to be yoked up by Patrick by the collar of his shirt.

“Come on, Bowers. Leave him alone. Afraid to pick on one of us instead? You’ve been targeting Eddie quite alot lately. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were the queer boy here.” Beverly crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.

“Shut your whore mouth, bitch. Don’t make me shove my cock down your throat, again.” He seethed through gritted teeth and Beverly’s face fell.

“We all know Beverly wouldn’t let you touch her with a ten foot pole, keep dreaming.” Stan cackled and instantly shut his mouth and flinched away as Belch threw himself forward at the boy, laughing at his scared reaction.

Henry was fuming at this point and so he shoved Eddie over. The small boy tumbled to the ground below, splitting his knee open in the process.

“Eddie!” Richie pounded on Patrick’s chest. The older boy’s hold didn’t let up, though.

“Fuck, fuck!” Eddie gulped and reached for his fanny pack, suddenly feeling a wave of anxiety wash over him. My mom will never let me outside again if she sees this shit, he thought. He took notice of the dirt coating his wound and instantly his throat felt like it was closing in on him.

Germs. Infections. Death.

“I’ll take that.” Henry snatched his fanny pack from his reach.

“Hey, asshole, he needs his inhaler, what the fuck? So you kill little kids, too!?” Richie shouted over Patrick’s shoulder. He watched as Eddie struggled to breathe.

“Shut the fuck up, fairy! Keep talking shit and your little boyfriend is gonna get it!” Henry shouted angrily as he kicked at Eddie’s side and the small boy yelped in pain and tried his hardest to drag himself away from Henry, but Vic stepped in his way.

Richie swallowed hard and shut his mouth. He knew Henry meant it and so did the rest of the gang, so they all watched nervously, afraid of their next move. There might have been more of them, but these boys were dangerous and they carried weapons. Weapons they weren’t afraid to use, either.

“Hey!” Their heads whipped around to see a shop owner in town approaching them. So maybe Henry didn’t really think it through when he decided to attack them in the middle of town. He dropped the fanny pack at Eddie’s side and Vic backed away from the boy’s small frame. Patrick released Richie from his grasp and Belch stepped back from the rest of the group, “Knock it off you punks and leave those kids alone!” The man shouted and Henry called his goons back to him.

The boys retreated back to Henry’s car rather quickly without another word spoken. All the kids let out a breath they didn’t even know they were holding, except for Eddie, who at this point was barely able to breathe.

“Eds!” Richie ran to the boy’s side.

“Don’t-,” gasp, “f-fucking-,” another gasp, “touch me!” And another gasp. Eddie scrambled for his inhaler and Richie kneeled down beside him, grabbing his fanny pack for him. Eddie began to puff on the inhaler and his eyes went wide at the sight of Richie’s dirty, greasy fingers pressing into the fabric of his most sacred possession.

He snatched it from Richie’s hands, cringing at the thought of all the germs that were swimming all over him at this point, “Just let me help you, for fuck sake, Eds.” Richie grabbed the fanny pack from Eddie’s hand with a sigh of frustration.

“Since when did you grow a heart, asshole?” Richie scoffed in amusement at him and pulled out some alcohol wipes and a small bottle of hydrogen peroxide, “DON’T TOUCH ME, RICHIE!”

“Oh shut the hell up, ya big baby.” He grumbled back in response as he tended to Eddie’s wound. The strangest feeling washed over Eddie. It was a feeling he had never felt for Richie, at least not this powerfully. It was a feeling of adoration. He adored this boy, even with his unkept greasy hair and his crumb infested fingers from whatever lunch he had that day. Eddie was a complete germaphobe and yet he adored this boy who was practically a walking germ.

His demeanor softened and his face flushed. He was blushing. He could feel it. Richie looked up at him and smirked at the pink tint on his cheeks. They both felt eyes on them and their heads shot towards the group.

“Suh-see what I-I-I muh-m-mean?” Bill laughed so loud it resonated around them and the group giggled in amusement at the two boys. Now it was Richie’s turn to blush.

“Yes, completely.” Stan agreed and the rest nodded in agreement.

“What the fuck are you talking about, assholes!?” Eddie shouted and Richie voiced his agreement.

“Oh nothing,” Beverly mused, “but would you look at the time!? We gotta get going guys! Make sure you get him home in one piece, trashmouth.” She winked at the two and the group sauntered off to their bikes and rode away, leaving them utterly flustered and confused.

“What the hell was that?” Richie asked and Eddie shrugged unknowingly.

“I have no idea, but I do know I’m bound to get an infection letting you do this for me. When is the last time you washed your hands, Rich?” He asked and Richie faked a pained look.

“Hey, I’m a clean guy!”

“Your hair is so greasy, dude. Look at your fingernails, too! There’s crumbs under them from God knows when! I’m totally gonna get an infection.” Eddie rambled and rambled until Richie threw his hand over his mouth.

“That’s what all these supplies are for, asswipe. Now stop being a jerk and appreciate me for once. I don’t do this shit for just anybody, ya know.” Eddie swallowed the lump in his throat as Richie spoke softly and carefully to him, inches from his face. His breathe smelled like a ham sandwich and a marlboro.

Eddie laughed mentally at himself, wondering how he seriously managed to fall for someone like Richie. Maybe it was the fact that Richie didn’t care what people thought of him. Or his loyalty to his friends and loved ones. God, he had no clue, but for some reason he wanted to taste Richie’s lips against his.

“S-S-Sorry...” He forced the words out of his throat and hated himself for stuttering.

“Woah, hi Bill, didn’t know you were in there.” Richie joked and his laugh bounced through Eddie’s ears like it was his favorite song. He couldn’t help but laugh too.

“Okay, fuck you, Tozier.”

“Chill, Eds, we’re in public. Wait till we get home.” He winked and Eddie blushed again. Goddamn it, Eddie, stop it!

Richie noticed the pink blush running across Eddie’s cheeks and his heart fluttered at the thought that maybe Eddie liked the way he flirted with him. Richie was horrible at showing his emotions, especially emotions that were deemed wrong by society. He never thought, as feminine as Eddie was, that he could ever like Richie back. He still tried his hardest to tease him into realizing it. Maybe it was easier that way, if it was unspoken, then he wouldn’t have to admit it to himself either. Maybe they could both know and no one would have to say anything. They would just know.

“Seriously, thank you, Rich. All jokes aside, I appreciate you.”

“Just say you love me, no need to sugar coat it, Eds.”

Eddie smiled and rolled his eyes, “Oh shut up!” He shoved him playfully and as Richie fell backwards onto his bottom, he grabbed ahold of Eddie’s hand and pulled him toward him. Their foreheads smacked together and their breaths mingled briefly. Richie’s glasses went crooked and his heart leaped and his palms began to sweat. Eddie was frozen in place, his hand still gripped tightly in Richie’s.

“Uhhh, I-I-,” Eddie went to speak and stammered nervously and for some reason Richie was overwhelmed with the urge to kiss him and so he did.

Eddie was stiff for a moment, wide eyed and confused. He relaxed almost instantly, letting the kiss take over him.

Their hearts were soaring as they pulled away from each other. The kiss was nothing crazy, but the fact that there even was a kiss was enough to send their hearts into overdrive and for their stomachs to flip and twirl and drop and they could have both sworn it was a dream.

“You should let me help you more often.” Richie whispered and Eddie blushed again.

-

Okay seriously thought I would have had this finished asap so sorry to the anon that I told this would be up within the hour. More like 5 hours😭 I work overnights and my job is never crazy busy, but tonight was ridiculous so I had to stop in between loads of times. But I finished it and I hope the anon who requested this enjoyed it ❤️

[finnofamerica]

Valley Fair - Kevin Gnapoor x Reader ||1||

A/n: I don’t have a summary because I wrote this impulsively after reading all the Kevin G content I could find and watching all the MathLit videos so.........Enjoy

Word Count: 1617

Date: 7.13.2019

|| Masterlist || 

 "As you know," Principal Duvall stood on the stage in the auditorium, "every year the school likes to do something nice for the Junior and Senior classes near the end of the school year." 

Off to the side, Kevin whooped and hollered, "Love you, Duvall!" 

 "Thank you, Kevin," Duvall let out a defeated sigh, "This year the overwhelming vote was for Valley Fair amusement park!" 

The crowd roared, meanwhile, Duvall tried to calm the masses. 

   KG: Hope you got a swimsuit that shows off your polynomial curves

  Y/n: Step off it, Kevin 

   KG: Girl you know you love me!

You looked at him from across the room, rolling your eyes as he shot you a wink and settled in for the rest if Duvall's 'come to Jesus' talk. 

You weren't a mathlete, but Kevin was your friend - or rather he was your friend, you weren't entirely sure he'd call you one. He had Tyler, Marwan, and Cady too. You only really knew him because he was the reason you didn't fail your math class. Who better to tutor you than one of the smarted boys at North Shore High? 

You couldn't have asked for a better tutor, really - especially after he realized that you responded better to music than math. Kevin would rap notes and processes and explanations. He would stay with you after school in the library helping you study for your tests. 

You held him in the admiration of an object you desired but couldn't have. It wasn't love. It wasn't a crush, but it was damn near the closest thing to it. Kevin Gnapoor was to you as the sky was to dreamers; ever-present but just out of your reach. 

Of course, being the head of the Radio and A/V clubs, you were branded a whole new level of loser by the Plastics. Cady was your lord and savior, taking them down from the inside all while being the nicest person you knew.

It was half a days drive to the amusement park. The school would get a hotel. The next day would be spent at the park. Then a second night in the hotel, and you would be back home by one the day after. 

Friday morning you had your go-bag packed with the essentials and some extra clothes just in case. 

"Have fun!" Your aunt gave you a thumbs up from the car as she dropped you off. 

"Thanks, aunt Jo," you set your bag on the sidewalk, "I love you! See you on Sunday." 

"Okay, Sweetie, text me or Ed okay?" 

"Yo! Y/l/n!" A voice called. 

"I gotta blast, but I will I promise!" 

You ran to the group that was waiting for you. It was just a couple of kids from your clubs and, honestly, they were mostly the same people anyway. You knew them and you were kind of friends with them. You weren't that great at socializing with people your own age. 

"I can't wait to record a report of this!" Niko beamed. She was the interviewer/reporter for the radio club, reporting to the masses the events of North Shore High. 

"Niko, this is supposed to be a fun trip! Enjoy yourself!" You exclaimed. 

"Plot twist: reporting is fun for me." She stuck her tongue out at you, making you laugh. It didn't take long for everyone to show up, despite the earliness of the morning. Your crew split up on the bus, leaving you to sit with Niko, which was fine. It's not like you were hoping one of the Power of 3 would sit with you. No, Cady sat with Marwan and Tyler sat with Kevin G himself. 

   KG: Hope you packed your swimsuit, Norbury says the hotel has a pool. 

   Y/n: I did, but you won't see me in it.

   KG: Can I see you out of it 😉? 

   Y/n: Kevin!

"Girl you gotta get some shades or something." Niko snorted when she noticed you making a face at Kevin - who only waved his phone because he wanted you to look at it. 

"Why?" You slipped your phone back in your pocket. 

"Because you got some raging heart eyes for a certain rapping mathlete." 

"I don't." You frowned. "Kevin barely even knows me." 

"I never said it was Kevin." She smirked. 

"It was implied! We all know Tyler and Marwan get their flow from Kevin." 

Niko rolled her eyes at you and pulled out her phone to watch movies for the ride. 

   KG: All right, All right, too far? 

   Y/n: actually that was usual for you, you're just embarrassing. 

   KG: did you just call THE Kevin G embarrassing? 

   Y/n: I did. 

   KG: Hey

  Y/n: What? 

   KG: I must be a math book. 

   Y/n: accurate but why? 

   KG: Bc you solve all my problems. 

   Y/n: Cheesy. I thought you had better lines than that, KG.

"Who you texting, Kevin?" Tyler leaned over, trying to peak at Kevin's phone. 

"Y/n." Kevin shrugged. Tyler hummed.

----

"Hey Marwan, wanna be my buddy?" Tyler asked after Norbury gave her buddy system talk. Marwan just shrugged and nodded. 

"Buddies?" You asked Niko. 

"Nah, I told Cady I'd be her buddy so Janis could stay with Damien. Roomies tho?" 

"Sure, roomies." You deflated. She just gave you a reassuring smile. 

"Come on, let's settle into our room then hit the pool." 

"Deal."

"Are you sure about this Niko?" You tugged on the sides of your bathing suit, making sure you were covered properly. 

"Absolutely, besides you can just put shorts and a shirt on and if you decide to get in the water then bam!" She wiggled her eyebrows at you. You frowned and grabbed your hoodie, slipping it on. 

You loved your uncle for giving you some of his huge clothes from before he lost weight. The hoodie went to your knees and it was by far your favorite thing that you owned. 

"And the hoodie is back," Niko sighed, "Ready to go?"

"Yup!" You grabbed your book. Niko shook her head with a fond smile.

----

“Girl, you know the point of coming to a pool is to get into the water?" Kevin sat at the end of the deck chair you were curled up on. 

"I need to get caught up on my reading." You shrugged.  Kevin shook his head. 

"Anyway, it seems Tyler and Marwan are ditching me tomorrow and Cady already has a buddy." 

"I know, Niko ditched me for her." 

"Since we are in a unique position, wanna be my buddy?" 

"Is the square root of two a rational number?" You asked like it was obvious. 

"Uh..." he hesitated, "no." 

"Damn it, I was hoping it was." 

"So yes? You'll be my buddy?" 

"Yeah, I'll be your buddy," you laughed as he cheered. 

"I'm taking you on all the rides!" Kevin exclaimed, beaming from ear to ear. 

"Okay, okay," you pushed him away gently, mirth still on your lips, "go away." 

"You gonna go in the water?" 

"No." 

"Then nah, imma stay here boo." 

"You're making me regret my choices, KG."

----

"Remember everyone, we meet back at the main entrance at 10 PM. If you're going to be a little late text me or one of the other chaperones." Mr. Flemming went over the rules for the third time. "You must be in groups of at least two and one of you must have a working phone, though I doubt that will be a problem." 

"So what's the plan? Rides then water park or?" Kevin asked as you slid into the seat next to him. You had a bag in your lap carrying all you would need for the day. 

"No. The water park closes earlier so we should do that first, then rides to dry off." You dug through the bag making sure you had everything. 

"Sounds good." He stretched. "You ready?" 

“Heck yeah, man, I love amusement parks." 

"Think you can ride more rides than the Kevin G?" He popped his collar cockily. 

"Yes, actually," you abandoned your hoodie. The bus was already sweltering will all these sweaty teens filling it up. 

"I'll make you a deal. If you can ride a ride that I won't go on, then I'll take you to eat wherever you want when we get back to North Shore." 

"You are so on."

----

You scrutinized yourself in the mirror of that cold public restroom. You had to admit you did look good in your bathing suit, but you weren't entirely sure you were comfortable in it. 

It was now or never, you thought to yourself. You didn't give yourself the chance to chicken out as you stepped out into the heat of the day. 

"Damn girl, you've got more curves than a triple integral." Kevin whistled. Of course, he'd be waiting for you. 

"You didn't have to wait for me, Kevin. I would've found you." You kept your eyes on the ground. You didn't wanna be a creep and stare at him, as tempting as it was. 

"And let everyone else see you first? No way." He walked backward in front of you. "You actually getting in the water today?"

"Yeah, but only because I wanna ride those." You pointed to Breakers Pipeline and Plunge. "I looked them up. Those four are 65-foot free fall body slides. You stand on a platform and it drops out from understand you." 

"Oof. I think you like those slides more than me." He pressed his hand over his heart, pretending to be hurt. 

"Well-" you grinned. 

"Y/n l, don't play with a homeboy's heart like that." 

"C'mon." You laughed, leading the way to the water slides.

________________________________________________________________

Tags: OPEN

@carolinesbookworld @anon-pancake @bat-anxnymous @sparkle-heart-side-blog

[tinyarmedtrex]

prompt / request thing !!! stenbrough (nsfw pls???) - "Person B has masked feelings of jealousy anytime Person A talks about their romantic/sexual conquests until one day they finally snap.”

Hi Anon! Alas! This is only a little nsfw but hopefully fills your stenbrough needs. 

“I can’t tuh-take it anymore Mike. He juh-just has no idea.” Bill turned his head to stare at Stan, who was grabbing food with Richie before walking over to their table. He was wearing his usual outfit, slacks and a fitted shirt. He looked good. Better than anyone should at 9am on a Saturday but that was Stan, always put together. His curls were bouncing and Mike had to cuff Bill’s shoulder to remind him to stop staring.

“He’s not even doing anything.” Mike said quietly. They were in hearing distance now. Richie talking animatedly as Stan nodded, smiling and not bothering to try and get a word in edgewise.

“It’s nu-not him.” Bill murmured as they sat.

Richie immediately turned to them, eyes bright. “Guess who got some tail last night!”

“You?” Mike ventured.

Richie shook his head. “Ol’ Eds remains as unattainable as ever. Some day though Mikey, someday.” He sounded almost wistful and then shook his head again, pointing to Stan. “It was this guy! He walked into the party and eyes turned, he had 5, 6 guys on him!”

Bill glanced at Stan as the tale was spun. He was smiling shyly, not bothering to correct Richie but not adding anything either. This was how it had been for weeks now. Every Friday Richie and Stan would go to a party and the next morning Richie would crow about Stan’s accomplishments the night before. Bill had no doubt that they were true. Stan may not bring them up on his own but Bill had forced himself to ask, once or twice, and Stan would always confirm what Richie had said, that same smile on his face.

It tore Bill’s heart out to hear about them. He had liked Stan for years but could never bring himself to do something about it, sure that it would ruin their friendship or the group dynamics. Especially now that Stan had found himself. He’d come out of his shell, started opening up and had found that people liked his sarcastic quips and observations. It was good for him, it made Stan more confident and happier. And, in turn, other people had started to notice. Bill wasn’t surprised that other people found Stan attractive, he was only surprised that it had taken so long for others to see it. Stan was a winner with the men and women of their campus. He would come to their Saturday breakfasts sporting hickeys and occasionally wearing yesterday’s clothes. On those days Richie barely even needed to speak, the evidence of last night was clear.

Mike however, rarely made it to their breakfasts, football or studying usually took his mornings so this was news to him. He listened, eating his eggs, as Richie described the guy that Stan had gone home with in great detail.

Bill couldn’t take it. He didn’t want to listen to Richie talk about Stan’s one night stands any longer. He didn’t want to see the marks other people left on him. He’d been listening for months and it was eating him up inside.

He stood and all eyes turned to him. “Homework.” He said, grabbing his tray and disappearing back to his dorm. He spent the morning there, trying and failing to work on homework. But all he kept seeing was someone else’s hands on Stan and their lips connecting.

Eventually he gave up, playing video games until he had to go to work at the mail center. He hated it, hated how dry his hands always were after, hated laughing at the stupid jokes his coworkers made and the mind numbingly boring tasks he had to do. The only advantage was that he got to listen to podcasts and- mostly- work alone.

Today though, he was an hour into his shift, listening to his favorite true crime podcast, when he saw some familiar curls walking in front of the window. He was about to go say hi when he saw that someone else was with Stan, walking close to him and giggling in his ear. Bill ducked his head back down and didn’t look up again until his shift was over. It seemed that even at work he couldn’t escape Stan’s escapades.

As he left the mail room, rubbing lotion into his hands he looked up and saw that Stan was waiting for him, mercifully alone for once.

“Hey Bill, feel like it’s been a while.” Stan said, falling into step by him.

Bill shrugged. It had been but it was because he couldn’t stand to be alone with Stan anymore without it hurting. “Buh-b-busy. How are you?”

Stan answered with a shrug of his own. “Eddie and I are going to hang out with some people tonight, play Smash Bros., do you want to come?”

“Is the girl you came in with earlier going to be there?” Bill asked, trying and failing not to sound bitter.

A blush decorated Stan’s cheeks. “She might be. I didn’t ask her.” He looked at Bill. “Why do you care?”

Now it was Bill’s turn to blush. “I duh-don’t.”

They were at the door to Bill’s dorm, Stan clearly expected to be invited in but Bill didn’t want him in there. “I’ll p-pass, I’m not feeling great.”

Stan’s face fell. “Do you want me to stay here with you? I could heat some soup.”

Bill appreciated the gesture. He knew he was being unfair but he didn’t want to watch people fawn over Stan. So he shook his head. “No, but t-thanks.”

“See you for breakfast then?” Stan asked and now Bill nodded. He knew that isolating himself from his friends wasn’t good but he couldn’t handle it, not tonight. He promised himself that he’d go next time.

He spent the evening ordering pizza and playing video games. He was contemplating going to bed when there was a scratching at his door. He opened it to a very drunk, confused Stan. He looked at Bill then at the key in his hand.

“Why are you in my room?” Stan asked, brows knitted.

“You’re a-at my room.”

Stan nodded solemnly. “That explains why my key didn’t work.”

Bill moved aside as Stan walked in. He loved drunk Stan, he was still so put together. The only way to tell he was drunk was the occasional look of confusion, like he had just had a thought and lost it- that and apparently showing up at the wrong dorm.

Closing the door he went to sit by Stan. “How was the party?” He asked, handing the other controller to Stan.

“Fine. The girl was there. We went into a closet and made out.” Stan said it matter of factly, not even pausing as they next race started.

“Do you like her?” Bill wasn’t sure why he asked. He didn’t want to know.

Stan shrugged, his elbows going out as he took a turn. “Not really.”

Somehow that hurt more. “Then why do you do it?”

“What?” Stan wasn’t really listening. All of his drunken focus was on the game.  The end of his tongue was against his lips as he tried to concentrate.

“Wuh-why do you do it? Make out with those people? Or m-m-more.” Bill shouldn’t ask. This was stupid. He was stupid for asking.

Stan looked at him, race forgotten. “Because you aren’t there.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Not the answer he expected. “Wuh-wuh-” The word caught in his throat. “What?” He finally got out.

Stan licked his lips. “I think you heard me.”

Bill didn’t know who moved first but suddenly they were kissing, teeth clashing and tongues dancing. Bill had only kissed Stan once, playing truth or dare but it had had none of the heat, the neediness, that this one had. Both were moving eagerly against each other, game forgotten. Stan pushed Bill down on the couch and crawled on top of him, letting his weight rest on Bill as Bill’s hands went to Stan’s back, his ass. He could barely believe this was real but Stan’s hands in his hair and the little noises he was making grounded him. Bill groaned as Stan’s hips pulsed down, feeling their erections grind together through the layers of cloth.

Stan was moving fast, leaving kisses on his neck as his hands roamed down and before Bill realized it they had snaked under his pajama pants, gripping him with those long fingers he’d long admired. Stan’s hand wrapped around him and he gasped, arching into the touch. “Fuck.” He exhaled.

Stan’s lips were on his neck now and the other man chuckled. “Maybe later.”

Then, abruptly, Bill remembered how Stan came here and that he was certainly less than sober. “S-Stan.” Even without his stutter he would have had a hard time getting the word out. Stan’s hand was moving on him, palming his head and traveling down his length. No part of him wanted to stop now but he knew they had to. He couldn’t ruin everything because Stan was drunk. “St-stop.”

Stan looked at him, his eyes unfocused, reminding Bill why he needed to do this. Taking a deep he spoke again, willing himself not to stutter. “We can’t. You’re dr-dr-drunk.”

He watched Stan’s expression fall then rearrange itself into something blank. He knew what that meant. He’d seen it before, when Richie’s joke hit too close to home or Eddie was a little too mean. The look meant that Stan was hurt but didn’t want the other person to know.

Removing his hand he got off Bill, pulling at his clothes to remove the wrinkles. “I’ll go then.”

Bill didn’t want to leave it like this. “You duh-don’t have to. We could p-play more?” He offered, knowing how weak the offer was but he didn’t think they could talk, not tonight.

Stan shook his head, heading to the door. He didn’t speak as he left. Bill fell back onto the couch, knowing he did the right thing but still managing to hate himself.

He promised himself that he’d talk to Stan after breakfast the next day. He’d find a way to get Stan alone and explain. Except that Stan wasn’t at breakfast.  Bill asked Richie about it but he just shrugged, saying he had asked Stan if he was coming and that he hadn’t responded. Bill felt awful. Stan never missed breakfast unless he was sick.

After he finished eating he made his way to Stan’s dorm, standing outside of it for a minute before finally knocking. He didn’t want things to get worse between them, even if he wasn’t sure that Stan would want to see him. It took a minute but finally he saw Stan’s face poke out from behind the door. Stan saw him and nearly closed the door again but Bill put his foot in it, forcing his way in.

“We nuh-need to t-t-talk.” He insisted, trying to control his stutter through his nervousness.

Stan ran a hand through his hair. He looked disheveled, for Stan. He had bedhead and was still in his pajamas. “Do we?” Stan asked, not looking at Bill. Instead he turned around and started straightening an already perfectly straight pile of books.

“I th-think so.” Bill let him continue for a minute, willing to wait in silence.

Finally Stan finished, straightening and looking at him. Bill watched him take a long breath, weighing his words carefully. “I think that you were clear last night.” Bill watched how hard the words were for him to say and realized something.

“I wuh-wasn’t rejecting you.”

Stan’s jaw tightened then relaxed marginally. He looked at Bill, searching his face for any sign that he was joking. Then, cautiously he asked, “No?”

“No.” Bill stepped closer to Stan, putting a hand over his. “I’ve luh-liked you for a l-long time. Years.”

Stan swallowed. “Why didn’t you come to the party then?”

“And wuh-watch you get hit on? I don’t h-hate myself.”

Stan nodded. “Why’d you make me leave last night?”

“I d-didn’t want you to r-regret it today.” He squeezed Stan’s hand. “I duh-don’t want you to regret anything between us. Ever.” There it was. Bill laid bare for Stan.

“Oh.” Stan’s eyes widened and he smiled, a smile that made Bill’s heart flutter. “Well then. That changes things.” He let out a nervous laugh. “I thought I made a complete fool of myself.”

Bill shook his head, smiling in return. “I don’t think that’s p-possible.” Stan’s hand turned, curling into his. It grounded him.

“I came on a little strong.” Stan gave a sheepish smile but Bill shook his head again. He closed the distance between them, kissing Stan lightly. Stan returned the kiss, tipping his chin up to fully meet Bill’s lips. It was different than last night’s kiss, not as feverish or needy but somehow better. They broke apart with a smile, still hand in hand.

“Can I buh-buy you some food? Since you missed b-breakfast?” Bill asked.

Stan nodded. “I’d like that.”

[lamptracker]

FIC: Golden Dreams (Tom Holland/Reader; Olympic!AU)

So this came out of my failed attempt at an Olympics AU night, lol. A lovely anon suggested this. I kinda love it. I also kinda changed the original idea slightly, from figure skating to ice dancing (honestly I blame Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir for this)

FIC: Golden Dreams

Pairing: Tom Holland/Reader

Summary: You and your ice dancing partner, Tom Holland, are training for the Olympics. You’d never seen him as more than a teammate...until recently.

Ever since you could remember, you wanted to go to the Olympics.

Your favorite event was always the figure skating, especially ice dancing. You always thought they looked so pretty, gliding effortlessly across the ice in beautiful, sparkly costumes.

So when you were four, your mom signed you up for lessons.

When you were five, you entered your first competition. At that competition, you met a little boy named Tom Holland. He was the cutest thing you’d ever seen - big brown eyes, curly mop of auburn hair.

He was also super sweet and the most energetic boy you’d ever met. But he was crazy talented, as were you. You’d placed first in the girls’ junior division; he’d placed first in the boys. You didn’t really keep in touch with him after that, but you did see him at competitions.

Eight years later, your coach suggested ice dancing - you’d always been a little weak on your axels. He knew the perfect partner for you: Tom Holland.

And he was the perfect partner. He was always polite and sweet, always in tune with what you wanted or needed. He was always super careful not to touch you in any inappropriate way during your lifts. You had amazing chemistry on the ice, and it showed in your routines.

You had become really good friends off the ice, too. It wasn’t unusual for you to be at his house after practices; you were basically the fifth Holland child.

Despite what your performances on the ice showed, you were in no way interested in falling in love with him.

Until the Olympic qualifying competition.

About a week before the competition, you were hanging out at the Holland house (as you were wont to do). Tom was out getting food for everyone so you were embroiled in a fierce Mario Kart competition with Harry and Sam.

“I gotta ask you, (Y/n),” Harry said. “Have you and Tom ever thought about dating?”

You scoffed as you drove your character (Yoshi, you were always Yoshi) around the track. “Not even a little bit. We’re good friends, and we’re teammates. Nothing more.”

“Sounds like you’ve gotten that question before,” Sam teased.

“I only get it in every post-meet interview. He always gets the questions about training and all the work we put in and I always get, ‘Ooh, are you dating?!’ It gets a little old.”

“I can see that.” Harry cursed silently to himself as he slipped off the track. “It’s just, you guys have such amazing chemistry on the ice. And you have this really cool relationship off the ice.”

“Yeah,” Sam added, “and I’ve noticed that neither one of you has had a relationship that lasted longer than a few months. Why’d your last boyfriend break up with you?”

“My last three dumped me because they were jealous of my relationship with Tom. The last one especially was like, ‘You two are too flirty on the ice.’ Well, yes. It’s part of my job, okay? We’re telling a story and we have to sell it.” You let out a little whoop. “First place, boys, that’s how it’s done.”

“Race isn’t over yet, stop gloating,” Harry said. “But have you ever thought about it?”

“I told you, Harry, I haven’t. Unless… wait, is there something you’re not telling me?”

“Nope. Just curious is all.”

“Well, i’ve told you. Tom is my friend, and he’s my teammate, and that’s all there is to.. .oh, son of a bitch! Who threw that blue shell? I will cut you.”

“Told you not to gloat.” Harry grinned cheekily at you.

“You cocky bastard, I was winning, you know! I will not hesitate to end you.”

“Harry!” Tom exclaimed, walking in with bags of food. “She’s all riled up now. What’d you do, throw a blue shell?”

Harry just laughed as you threw a pillow at him.

“Help!” he cried. “I’m being attacked!”

“No, you’re being an ass,” you retorted, as Sam and Tom cracked up laughing.

The two of you skated flawlessly at the Olympic qualifying meet. Your short program was perfect - earning you the highest marks all season - but you bobbled a twizzle in the free skate. You were sure it was going to cost you your shot at the Olympics.

“Oh, darling. You were amazing out there,” Tom reassured you as you waited for your scores in the Kiss and Cry area.

“No, I wasn’t!” you argued. “Did you see my feet? I totally bobbled the footwork on that first twizzle pass! I looked like I was out there for the first time! We’re going to get docked so badly for this, I just know it.” You rested your head in your hands, sighing deeply. “And now we’re not going to make it to PyeongChang, and it’ll be all my fault, and…”

“Easy, now.” Tom wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “We’re going to make it, you know. Our short program was the best it’s been all year. You really shouldn’t be so hard on yourself, you’re a better skater than you give yourself credit for. And I...oh, they’re going to announce the scores now.”

You peeked at the scoreboard through your fingers. Despite the fact that you totally messed up the first pass, you were only deducted a tenth of a point. Your free skate put you at the top of the country’s leaderboard.

“We did...we did it!” you shouted. “We’re going to the Olympics!”

“I told you, darling!” Tom excitedly pulled you into an embrace as your coaches celebrated around you.

This hug was not like your normal hugs - quick, gentle squeezes. This was different.

Tom had a tight grip on you, as if he were afraid that you’d blow away if he let you go. His nose was buried in your hair. You could smell his cologne, and you could feel his rapidly beating heart.

Probably just excited, you thought to yourself. But then you thought back to the conversation you’d had with Harry a week prior.

Could...could Tom really be in love with you?

What’s more...could you really be in love with him?

Damn you, Harry, you thought to yourself.

But you didn’t really have time to ponder it; you were officially an Olympic athlete.

You were in Korea, and you were living your best life.

The Olympics were, so far, a lot of fun. You were having a great time getting to know the athletes from the other countries. (Adam Rippon was your favorite, but then again he was everyone’s favorite. But he was sweet, and funny, and immediately started following you on Instagram and leaving vaguely inappropriate comments on your pictures. And asked you if you had a brother.) It was fun trying local Korean cuisine. Going to see some of the other sports was interesting. (Tom pulled some strings to get you into the curling mixed doubles final; you had no clue what was going on but you were having a good time anyway.)

So far, the highlight was the Opening Ceremony. As you walked in behind the flag bearer, you started to feel a little nervous. Sure, you’d skated in front of big crowds before. But this crowd was nothing like you’d ever seen. What felt like a million people were in the stadium, and every single one of their eyes were on you.

Sensing your anxiety, Tom reached over and gently grasped your hand. “Feeling alright?” he asked.

“Just a little nervous. There are so many people here.”

“They’re not all here to see you, y’know.”

You scoffed loudly. “Gee, thanks for the pep talk there, Dr. Phil.”

“Hey, gotta bring you back down to Earth somehow.” Tom laughed as the two of you walked into the stadium with the rest of your teammates. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime thing, you know. So just relax and enjoy it, eh?”

“Yeah. You’re right.”

“Always am, darling.”

You just giggled as you smiled and waved to the crowd. Tom held your hand the entire ceremony.

Practices were going well, so far. This was the first year that music with words was allowed in Olympic competition, so for your free dance you had chosen “All of the Stars” by Ed Sheeran. You had to play the part of long-distance lovers.

And boy, was Tom ever good at it.

The way he stared after you longingly when you were apart on the ice, as though he truly wanted to be with you. The way his hand lingered on your hip a touch longer than it was supposed to, as if he didn’t want to let you go. How he held you close to him during lifts, how he gripped you protectively before he had to throw you. And how he beamed at you when you nailed the landing.

“Girl,” Adam Rippon (who’d crashed practice to heckle the Shibutani siblings) said to you. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’s really in love with you.”

“Whatever, Adam.” You rolled your eyes. “And I know what your next question is, and no, you cannot meet my brother. Not that I wouldn’t love it, but you’re bugging me today so it’s not happening.”

“Ooh. You cold,” Adam pouted, as you laughed.

But, you thought as you skated off to the sidelines. Was he? Could that explain the lingering touches, the longing looks?

You shook your head. It’s all part of the act.

And what’s more, why did you care so much? Why were you noticing the way he looked at you? The way you didn’t want his hand to leave your hip? Why didn’t you want his hand to leave your hip?

You groaned as you slipped the blade covers over your skates.

“I have got to lay off the hotteok,” you mumbled to yourself.

Finally, it was the night of the free skate finals. You and Tom were in first place after the short program. You were in the last group of skaters; of the 24 total couples skating, you were 23rd.

“How’re you feeling, darling?” Tom asked. “Nervous?”

“A little,” you admitted. “Remember I fucked up the opening twizzle sequence at qualifying. I’m just scared I’ll do it again.”

Tom reached over and grasped your hand. “Nah. You’ll get it. You’ve been getting it in practice, so you’ll get it in competition for sure.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Practice makes perfect, I hope. I just have to nail this hot move is all.”

Tom snorted. “That’s what she said.”

You smacked his shoulder. “Shut up, you div. We’re about to go on.” You took a deep breath.

“Ready?”

“Pep talk first.”

“Okay.” Tom leaned his forehead against yours. “Go out there.”

“Skate until the ice melts.”

“Kick ass.”

“Then kick more ass, because we ain’t got time to take names.”

Tom smiled brightly at you. “That’s my girl. Now, let’s go do this.”

Whatever worries you had before the free skate, you needn’t have entertained. You performed your routine flawlessly. That twizzle sequence you were so worried about? Went perfectly.

As the routine ended, the crowd roared and burst into applause. You bowed for the judges, then Tom threw his arms around you.

“Darling, that was brilliant!” he exclaimed, picking you up and twirling you.

You giggled as he spun you. “We’re going to medal for sure now!” You both waved to the crowd as you skated to the rink exit, hand-in-hand. You made your way to the Kiss and Cry area, hugging your coaches. You both slipped on your blade covers and you slid on your team jacket as Tom sat down with the coaches to receive your scores.

“Here you go, darling,” he said. “Made a spot for you.”

You sat down next to him and nervously grasped his hand as you awaited your marks.

The crowd erupted again as the scores were revealed. You’d earned a career best for your free skate, and were currently in first place.

“Oh my God, Tom,” you said breathlessly. “We’re in first place!”

“Yeah!” Tom punched the air excitedly. “There’s still one more couple to go, though.”

“I hope they fall,” you muttered to yourself; Tom cracked up laughing.

“Darling, you don’t mean that!” he wheezed between giggles. “But I kinda do too.”

Well, they didn’t fall. They also skated well. Tom and your coach were pointing out all of their technical inconsistencies, but you were just too nervous to think of anything other than how you were going to end up placing.

You and Tom stood, frozen in place, as you waited for their marks.

“I can’t look, Tom,” you said nervously as you buried your head into his shoulder and a hush fell over the crowd. “I’m scared.”

“Don’t be, darling. They didn’t skate nearly as well as we did. Now look up, they’re about to post.”

The scores flashed on the screen…

...and the last couple? Ended up in fourth place overall.

“WE DID IT!” You shouted excitedly. “We won! We won the gold medal! This is the greatest day of my life!” You threw your arms around Tom; he returned the embrace, gripping you tighter than you thought was humanly possible.

“I can’t believe it!” he said. “We’ve done it!”

Tears of joy rolled down your cheeks as you held onto Tom for dear life. “I just… all that hard work we put in, and it’s paid off.”

Tom pulled away to look at you, his own face wet with tears.

And then, before you could fully process what was happening, his lips were on yours.

You know how, when people have their first kiss, it usually starts out slow and tentative, while the two parties involved get to know each others’ mouths?

This was not that kind of kiss.

This was also not a kiss that said, “You just helped me win a gold medal and I’m so excited right now.”

This kiss said, “You just helped me win a gold medal and I’m so excited right now. Also, I’m madly in love with you and I’m desperately hoping you feel the same way.”

It was deep, passionate, like nothing you’d ever experienced before. His hands gripped the back of your head as yours made their way to his auburn curls, tangling in the strands. It had the potential to knock the wind completely out of you.

When the two of you finally parted, you looked at each other, mouths slightly agape, chests heaving as you struggled to catch your breath.

Tom broke the silence.

“Oh, God. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that, I…”

You reached out and grabbed his wrist. “Tom, are you in love with me? Please be honest.”

He nodded wordlessly, looking absolutely terrified.

You smiled softly at him. “I’m in love with you too,” you admitted. “Fairly recent development; I blame Harry, honestly. But… yeah. I am.”

His face softened into a wide smile. “Oh, thank God,” he muttered as he leaned in to kiss you once again. This one was more gentle than your first; this one said, “I love you so much. I’m so glad you love me too.”

“See? I knew it!” Adam Rippon shouted as he ran by you to congratulate the Shibutanis on their bronze medal. “Oh, and congratulations!”

You just laughed as Tom wrapped an arm around your waist. “They’re going to start the medals ceremony soon. We should get down there.”

“Yeah.”

And so, you received your gold medal, with the man you loved at your side. This truly was the greatest day of your life.

[beepbeeprichiellc]

hi love, if you're still taking prompts i'd love something angsty (but with a happy ending?!) with #30?? xx

So…this isn’t the happiest ending. My bad anon, it kinda just happened. It’s hopeful, and that’s what matters right? Right? 

30. So that’s it? It’s over?

Eddie watched the exchange through the sea of students. There was a faint ringing in his ears, his heart sputtering along with the rhythm of the feet around him. It wasn’t like he wanted to watch, the exact opposite actually, but as Bill and Stan’s exchange changed to something else he found that his eyes were glued. They had yet to come to their friends about their blossoming relationship but if Eddie knew, than Richie knew, and that was the tragedy of it all.

As Richie’s best friend, Eddie had listened to the trashmouth fawn over the curly haired boy for years. Stan this, Stan that, Stan, Stan, Stan. “Do you see his sweater today Eds, fucking adorable.” “Did you think he saw me staring, god I hope not.” “I’ve never felt like this about anyone before Eddie, that has to mean something.”

That last one had hurt, practically ripping Eddie’s heart out on the spot. If anyone understood the internal conflict that Richie was going through, it was him. Watching the person you loved, love someone else was hard, being the person who they went to when they wanted to talk about their love was down right unbearable. Was it fair? No. But did Eddie allow it all to happen, even if it was at a great personal cost? Yes.

Slamming his locker door, he pried himself away unable to watch any longer. It wasn’t that Eddie hated Stan, he was one of his closest friends but his blatant disregard for Richie’s feelings earned him a place on his shit list. Stan knew about the trashmouths feelings, Eddie himself had been there when he had admitted it, he just didn’t feel the same way and that wasn’t his fault. That didn’t mean that sucking face in the middle of a busy high school hallway was the kindest thing he had ever done.

Eddie skipped his next class, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling in his gut and his mother’s voice in his head. He allowed his feet to carry him down the hall, knowing exactly where to go. Just as the bell rang, his hands touched the heavy wood of the double doors leading into the auditorium. The place was deserted, good.

There was a faint whimper, the tiny sound echoing against the the walls and punching Eddie in the chest. Looking up he could see Richie’s silhouette, hunched over, almost curled up into a ball on the skywalk. Sighing, the short boy walked onto the stage, heading behind the curtain. When he finally found the latter his stomach churned, feeling his fear of heights crawl under his skin. Swallowing down his common sense, he began to climb. His hands shaking with each bar he grasped.

He cursed the entire way up, muttering the vulgar words under his breath. Once he was at the top he managed to stand on the wobbling platform. He wanted to vomit, but didn’t for the simple fact that his best friend was broken on the other side of the extremely long walkway. Step by step he made his way towards Richie, feeling every nerve fight his fears. Although it was probably only about a 10 feet stretch, it felt like a mile for Eddie, his fingers gripping onto the handrail so strongly that his palms throbbed.

Richie didn’t look up when he finally made it to him, instead he watched his feet, swinging them aimlessly under him. “Hey.” Eddie mumbled, holding his breath as he took a seat beside his friend. “I knew I’d find you here.”

“How did you even get up here?” Richie asked, his voice void of emotion. “You fucking hate heights.”

“I managed.” He admitted, trying his best not to look at the ground but instead focusing on his friends face.

They sat in silence, neither of them wanting to begin the conversation that was soon to come. Eddie had to admit that the the auditorium was kind of eerie, the silence crawling along his skin, it’s sharpened nails digging into his tender skin. This sucked, there was no other way to describe it, this fucking sucked.

“He’s with Bill now.” Richie finally whispered, his voice breaking. “But I guess you already know since you’re here.”

“Yeah.” Eddie confessed, “I saw.”

“I feel so broken Eds.” Richie whispered, lowering his tone so that it was just above a whisper. “I feel like he tore my heart out.”

Eddie could relate. “I know Rich. I’m so sorry it turned out like this.” And he meant it. He was sorry. Above all else, he wanted for him to be happy, even if that meant loving someone that wasn’t him. Even if it meant pain for himself, it was all worth it to see Richie’s bright and inviting smile.

“I don’t want to feel like this.” Eddie could hear the tear in his voice, the waterfall of tears trailing down his face. “I don’t want to be heartbroken any more. I’m done. I’m fucking done with him, if he doesn’t love me back then screw him!”

Eddie’s heart twisted. “So that’s it? It’s over?” He found himself asking, “You think you can forget him just like that? Just with the snap of your finger.”

“I have to.” Richie whined, “I have to let him go. If it’s not supposed to be, then so be it. As long as he’s happy, as long as he’s loved, I think I can get by.”

It was a double edge sword. Two sides of the same coin. Eddie loved Richie, Richie loved Stan, and Stan loved Bill. How did it come down to this, how did they end up in this predicament? It was such a shit show that it was almost funny. Almost.

“It’s not that simple.” Eddie whispered, feeling his face fluster. “Love is strong Rich, you have no idea what you’re willing to do until you find yourself at that crossroad.” Oh how his own words cut him, how deep the poison of his truth seep into his open wounds. “You’ll always love him, I can promise you that.”

Richie sniffled, shaking his head. “I feel like I’m going to die.”

“You will.” Eddie wasn’t sure why he continued, spilling all of his secrets into the already thick air. “When you’re around him, it’ll be hard to breathe. When he talks to you, nothing else will seem to matter. When you see them together you will be convinced that the feeling in your chest is going to drag you down but-” He stopped, his own tears burning his eyes.

“But?” Riche pressed, looking up to his face for the first time.

“But that’s love Rich. It’s the feeling he gives you, the high he brings. It’s being selfless and selfish at the same time. It’s helping him through his problems and then wishing that your heart would stop beating the moment he smiles at you because at least you can die happy. Love is the most terrible and wonderful things in the world. And it’s what will kill us in the end, but it’s those stolen moments that make it all worth it.” When he finished, he could feel his body tremble. The truth in his own words, the pain in his tone fell onto the floor below with a thud. It was painful, but it was true.

“You love Bill don’t you?” Richie asked, taking Eddie by surprise. “That’s why you feel that way right? Because Bill is in love with Stan?”

“Yeah.” He lied, his heart shattering. “Yeah that’s why.”

Richie nodded his head, a chuckle rumbling in his chest. “We are both fucked aren’t we?”

Eddie smiled, “Yes.” He muttered, his tears spilling onto his shirt. “But we will survive Rich. We will be okay.”

“Thank you Eds.” Richie said, a smile curling at the corner of his lips. “You are the most amazing best friend I could have asked for. I love you.”

Another punch in the chest, another blow to his body. If all else failed he could live this way, yes he thought, he could survive with being the best friend. He could live with the way thing were, even if Richie never noticed the way he felt he could at least make him happy in every other way. Still he held onto the hope that someday he would open his eyes, and maybe it would happen. Maybe someday they could be together, but for now he would settle. Eddie would settle being there for Richie in the way he needed it the most. With a forced smile he replied,

“I love you too.”

But not in the same way.