#Eddie did in fact propose but it was not very fancy

[finntheehumaneater]

Eddie shouldn’t be laughing. He shouldn’t be laughing, but he was, still holding the phone even though the dial tone was ringing. And the woman from the school had hung up minutes ago.

He shouldn’t be laughing because marriage was a serious thing that he had given so much thought to, wanted it so badly with Steve, and apparently Steve had decided that they were already married.

He put the phone back on the holder and ran a hand down his face, trying to catch his breath, replaying the conversation over and over and over in his head because—because God, this was the best thing that had happened to him in a while.

“Hello? This is Eddie Munson.”

“Yes, hi, I’m calling about your husband? Steve Harrington.”

He paused, his eyebrows furrowing. “My husband?”

“Yes, Mr. Steve Harrington? He works here as a history teacher?”

Okay. Well. That was weird. “Yeah, what about?”

“I’m just calling for confirmation on whether or not he’ll be at the Parent’s Night tonight? He mentioned some scheduling conflict a few days ago and I wanted to check in and make sure he could come in?”

“Yeah, he should be there. I’d go and get him for you but he’s asleep.”

He quickly made his way over to their shared bedroom, flopping down onto the bed next to Steve, his hands on Steve’s face in an instant and squeezing lightly to wake him up. “Stevie. Baby.”

Steve squinted, pushing himself up onto his elbows and rubbing his eyes. 

“Steve,” Eddie whispered, trying to look serious and bite back his smile. “Did you tell the receptionist at the school that we were married?”

Steve’s eyebrows furrowed, before his eyes widened and he groaned, dropping his face onto the pillow, his voice muffled. “I hate you.”

“What did I do?” Eddie laughed, brushing a hand through Steve’s hair.

“You—she was teasing me for not like…tying things down, and—and I panicked and said I already had,” he whined, shaking his head and pressing it further into the pillow.

“Do you want to get married?” Eddie asked, his voice more gentle.

Steve looked up, his face flushed. “I mean…yeah, I do. Please tell me this isn’t you proposing.

Eddie opened his mouth to speak, but Steve pressed his hand to it and Eddie had to grab onto to Steve’s arm to stop himself from falling over. “Shut up.”

“Mm—“

“No, no, I am not letting you propose to me while we’re in bed, Eddie.”

Eddie huffed against Steve’s hand, licking it so that Steve let go with a frown. “Ew.”

“You love it.”

“Don’t lie to yourself, sweetheart.”

“Rejecting me and stealing my pet names, huh?”

Steve rolled his eyes, laying back down in bed, and pulling the blanket up to his shoulders. “I didn’t reject you because you never asked me to marry you.”

“I was going to, but then—“

“Eds?” Steve interrupted, tugging Eddie down into bed. “Be quiet.”

Eddie hated how quickly he shut up, his arms around Steve’s waist, just breathing into Steve’s hair like it was the only thing he ever wanted to do. Gods, he was going to marry the fuck out of this man.

And it was going to be the best proposal the world had ever seen.

(Goes along with this post. Someone send me asks about them I want to talk about the husbands.)

(Domestic Steddie AU MasterList)

#Eddie did in fact propose but it was not very fancy #He just asked Steve out to dinner and too him to the park #But Steve thought it was cute and he did maybe cry a little bit even thought he told himself he wouldn’t :) #steddie #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie fic #eddie munson #steve x eddie #Finn writes #My domestic steddie au

[forever-rogue]

Hi Bee! I've been a long time reader and fan of your blog! The way you write for Eddie is insane 😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️ I love it 🥹 if you feel comfortable, could you please write something for fem!reader x Eddie where she has a history of being bullied (physically & verbally) and one day they could be arguing or something and Eddie is on edge and raises his voice and moves too quickly and she flinches (or maybe has a panic attack or something) I would really appreciate this ❤️🥺 comfort and fluff at the end because I need that rn ❤️

AN | Okay, but this is a little angsty but mostly soft 🥺🥰

Warnings | Language, mentions of past verbal abuse 

Pairing | Eddie x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2.3k

Masterlist | Main, Eddie 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It had been a long week. Weeks, really. And you felt like you and Eddie were like ships passing in the night more than anything else. You were busy with college classes and your part time job, and he was busy working at the shop. He’d been working a lot lately, even more than he normally did, but you hadn’t questioned it. You knew that you didn’t bring in a lot of money only working part time while you finished your degree, but it would be worth it in the end. 

But Eddie, good, kind hearted, wonderful man that he was, insisted that you it was okay. He wanted you to be able to focus on your studies, rather than have to worry about working. He was the main provider for your little family of two, and while it was a lot of pressure, he wouldn’t have changed a thing. In fact, one of the reasons he’d been working even longer hours and helping a few customers on the side, was so he could save up to buy you an engagement ring. You always insisted that you didn’t need anything fancy, but Eddie wanted to do this right, he wanted to do all the things with you, including proposing with a pretty ring.

Right now though, you were desperately wanting to spend some time with him, so you went ahead and planned a little date night for the two of you. You’d gotten a few very generous tips at the cafe lately and stashed them away in the rainy day fund; and now it was time to use them. You wanted a nice night out for both of you. 

“Eddie Spaghetti,” you were grinning from ear to ear as you walked into your shared apartment. You’d just gotten out of class and he should have been home a few minutes before you. He didn’t respond to your excited call for him and you wondered if he was home yet, “babe?”

You walked into the bedroom and found him sitting at the edge of the bed, boots off and a fresh change of clothes. He was breathing deeply, eyes closed and leaned back on his hands. Poor thing looked tired, and you knew he deserved the rest. 

“Babe-”

“I heard you,” he said, not altogether rudely or kindly either, “hi sweetheart.”

“Hello my love,” you kneeled at his feet, reaching for his hand to take in yours, “I missed you today! I’ve been missing you a lot lately.”

“I’ve missed you too,” he responded with a gentle squeeze of your hand, looking into your eyes for a split second. You could see the exhaustion in them and it made your heart constrict.

“Listen, I set a little bit of money aside for us and I thought we could go out tonight,” you were grinning, but there was an unreadable expression on his features, “get dinner and maybe catch a movie?”

“Not tonight, sweetheart.”

“I just think it would be nice to have a night out to ourselves-”

“I can’t tonight,” he repeated as you pouted at him, “I’m sorry - maybe this weekend, okay?”

“But Eddie-”

“Please!” he snapped suddenly, dropping your hand as he gave you a sharp look. You’d never heard him raise his voice before…especially not at you. The only time you really heard him get loud was when he was in the thrill of the moment during a new campaign, “I’m exhausted and I have to go back to work tonight.”

“I don’t think you should-”

“Really?” his eyes narrowed and you gulped nervously, “then who is going to pay for everything, huh?”

“Eddie,” you stepped back, your heart racing as you felt the stinging of tears in the back of your eyes, “I-I-”

“Not all of us have the luxury of going to school and working a few hours here and there at a coffee shop!” you’d never heard him this mad before, not in over three years of dating, and it frightened you. You didn’t like this Eddie and wanted your Eddie back. You flinched away from him, trying to hide how scared you were.

“I just thought you could use a break,” your voice sounded so small and hurt that it broke Eddie’s heart. He shouldn’t have snapped at you, shouldn’t have taken his momentary anger (which was not even at you) out on you, “you’ve been working so hard. I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Sweetheart,” he tried to reach for you but you shook your head and pulled away to where he couldn’t reach you, “honey - I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. Will you come here, please?”

“No,” you shook your head and clambered to your feet before scampering towards the door, “please just don’t.”

“Angel,” he got up and tried to walk over to you but you ducked in the hallway, “what’s wrong?”

“I-I’m going to go,” you stammered nervously, almost running into the living room to grab your bookbag. Eddie followed you slowly, trying to keep a bit of distance that you obviously needed, “I-I’ll see you later.”

You were gone and out the door before he could say anything else, heading to your care. You weren’t sure exactly what to do, but you just needed some space. You’d never had a single moment with him like that before and it felt terrible. This wasn’t Eddie, and you knew that he wasn’t going to turn into some monster, but the moment had settled harshly in your bones. 

Eddie’s eyes welled up with tears as he stared at the door. He hated the look on your face; he hated himself more for snapping at you. He’d just been so tired and run down, and it had all come to a head. Unfortunately, it was you that was caught in the crossfire; his love, his princess, his angel. The last person he ever wanted to hurt. And he’d just gone and done that.

“Fuck,” he sighed at himself, closing his eyes and letting out a long breath. He wanted to come after you, figuring you’d more than likely have gone to Steve and Robin’s place. But, more than anything, he wanted you to be comfortable, so he opted to give you space instead. 

 ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

By the time you got home, Eddie was already in bed. But he wasn’t sleeping, instead he was staring at the ceiling, unable to calm his worried mind down. He heard the front door open and close, followed by your soft tread, but remained still and silent. He noticed the hesitation in your tread after he heard your bag settle on the floor, followed by your shoes. He hated the idea that he was the reason for your quiet shyness. 

You paused outside the bedroom door, noticing that it was still partly open, almost like a sign of apology. You paused with your hand on the knob before slowly pushing it open and letting yourself in. There was a soft glow from the bedside table where the small lamp was still on. It illuminated his body, but you knew immediately that he was still awake.

“E-Eddie?” you whispered softly, padded over to your side of the bed, cautiously sitting down. Your boyfriend rolled over so he was facing you, blinking softly but not yet saying anything so he wouldn’t push you further. You met his eyes and offered him a small little half smile. He visibly relaxed when he saw that you weren’t shying away, “I know it’s late, but can we talk?”

“Yeah - y-yes,” he sat up and leaned against the headboard, lightly patting the space next to him. You didn’t even bother to take off your clothes before crawling into your side of the bed, sitting cross legged next to him, “I…first of all, I want to say how sorry I am. I should never have talked to you like that. I know you probably don’t believe me right now and I don’t expect you to, but I will never talk to you like that again. I swear it.”

“I know,” you nodded softly, playing with a loose thread hanging from the sleeve of your sweater, “I know you won’t, Eddie. I know that a one time thing isn’t going to change our entire relationship.” 

“Yeah?”

“Of course,” you raised a tentative hand before reaching over and touching his cheek, brushing your thumb over the apple of his cheek. He leaned into your touch, eyes fluttered closed at the feel of your soft palm on his skin, “I think I owe you an explanation too.”

“Sweetheart,” he wrapped his fingers around your wrist and brought your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, “I am tired, and I’ve been tired and I know you have been too. And it’s not because you don’t work hard - I know you do. I know it’s not just going to school full time and working part time. And it’s nothing I hold against you, because that’s what we agreed to, and let’s be honest, school ain’t for me.”

“Eddie, you’ve been working so much,” you whispered, “and I don’t want you to run yourself into the ground. We’ll be okay if you cut back your hours, especially the extra ones. I can always pick a few more hours on the weekends…but we’ll figure it out.”

“I…” he swallowed thickly, taking a moment to collect his thoughts before continuing, “I know I can cut back and we’d be okay….I took the extra shifts and hours because I was using them to save some extra money.”

“Oh,” your brows furrowed in surprise; you spotted the dark pink flush in his cheeks, “whatever for?”

“I was saving up so I could buy you a ring,” he confessed, looking like a shy boy rather than a grown man. Your eyes widened in surprise and you couldn’t prevent the small gasp that escaped your lips. A wave of emotion caused your eyes to prickle with tears, “I know you said you didn’t need an engagement ring or a big proposal or any of that, but baby, I want to do this. I want to do it right, and get you that ring.”

“Oh Eddie,” a few tears had prickled up and rolled down your cheeks, which he tenderly wiped away, “I had no clue…I…I love you so much.”

“I love you,” he promised, “I hope you’re not mad…”

“Of course I’m not mad,” you beamed at him, “I think you’re a stubborn man that won’t change his mind, huh?”

“I won’t,” he agreed, causing you to giggle at him, “I’m gonna cut back my hours, I swear. But I’m also going to get you that ring, yeah?”

“Okay,” you didn’t need or want fancy material things like shiny rings, but damn. You weren’t about to say no to Eddie. You knew now that he’d spoken his piece, it was your turn to speak yours, “I, ugh, also want to apologize for how I reacted earlier. I, umm, growing up kinda sucked, you know? Well, I know you know. I never really gave you the full details, ‘cause it never felt necessary. But in school I was bullied a lot, especially when I was young because of being different. Home wasn’t much better; my mom, she…liked my older brother and sister a lot but with me it was different. For whatever reason, she hated me and my life a living hell half the time. She used to call me names, tell me I was stupid and unlovable, and would never get anywhere in life.”

“Sweetheart…”

“She liked to yell, a lot, almost like it was her form of a drug,” you shrugged, “I’m sure that’s why I don’t like any sort of yelling nowadays. I never really left like I fit in anywhere. Not until I met you….you and the rest of the gang.”

“I…I’m sorry,” was all he managed to choke out as he settled his hand on your neck, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into your skin, “I had no clue…I-I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“We all go through our own things,” you put your hand on top of his, giving it a gentle squeeze, “I should have told you sooner…but I want you to know that you are the best thing that has happened to me. I love you very much, Eddie.”

“I love you too, sweetheart,” he leaned in and pressed a soft barely there kiss to your lips, “will you forgive me? I know it’s a lot to ask for.”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” you leaned your cheek against his, breathing in slowly, “we both…it’s not that we made mistakes, it’s just that….we just didn’t quite sync up today. And that’s okay, because we’ll learn and it won’t happen again.”

“It won’t,” his eyes were soft and bambi-like, making your heart melt. You loved this man beyond measure, and you knew he left the same, “how about we use some of that extra money we’ve stashed away and go away this weekend, huh? Just the two of us, no cares in the world.”

“I’d like that,” the smile on your face was breathtaking and electric and Eddie was positive he’d just fallen a little more in love, “let’s do it.”

“Let’s do it,” he agreed softly, “I love you so much, sweetheart.”

“I love you too, Eddie.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson imagine #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn x reader #tw: mentions of verbal abuse

[capseycartwright]

Yes it was about married buddie and thank you you’re saving my life 💖💖💖

No one told you how strange it was, to get ready to go back to work, to go back to your normal life, after living in a wedding bubble for so long, Buck decided. Or maybe they did warn you – and he hadn’t listened. Either way, he felt like he had a stone in the pit of his stomach and he really, really didn’t want to go to work.

It wasn’t because he didn’t love his job. Evan Buckley would love being a firefighter until the day he died – he could say that with the utmost certainty. He was looking forward to getting back into the swing of things, and doing rescues, and fighting fires, but that didn’t change the fact that Buck really didn’t want to go to work today.

For the last six months, since Eddie had gotten down on one knee and proposed to Buck and made him ugly sob in public (thanks for proposing on a hike, Edmundo, he thought), he’d been wrapped up in a bubble of wedding planning (because even when you’re having a small wedding, there was an enormous amount of planning to do, Buck had quickly realised) and honeymoon planning (because Buck was going to make the most out of ten days’ worth of international travel alone, with Eddie, in various fancy hotels, thank you very much) and now – now life was just normal.

“You look like Christopher does, the morning he has to go back to school every summer,” Eddie murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of Buck’s head. He was probably right, Buck realised. However much Christopher loved school, every August, on the first day back, he would sit at the kitchen table with an epic pout fixed in place on his face, as it dawned on him summer was over, and it was time to go back to school. He would be fine again, by the end of the day, excited to be back – but the morning was always the worst.

“That’s how I feel,” Buck grumbled.

“Hey, love,” Eddie tugged on his chin. “What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

Buck shrugged. “I just – these last six months have been so exciting,” he paused. “And it’s not like I’m sad, we’re married now – I love being married to you. I just… Life is going to be so normal now,” he sighed, it all sounding silly, now he voiced it out-loud. “I guess it’s just a comedown.”

Eddie’s expression was soft, as he settled himself in Buck’s lap – comfortable with affection, now they were in a relationship, in a way that still overwhelmed Buck. Gently, he ran his fingers through the hair at the back of Buck’s neck, the few strands that hadn’t been tamed down with gel for work purposes. “I get it,” he reassured. “Our whole lives have been building up to getting married for months, now – and now it’s done,” he pointed out. “And that’s a good thing, of course, but it does mean the thing we’ve been looking forward to for so long is over.”

Buck leaned his cheek against Eddie’s chest, enjoying the steady thrum of his husband’s heartbeat, for a second, before he spoke again. “Yeah.”

“I can’t promise you that every single day of our lives is going to be as exciting as the last six months have been,” Eddie hummed. “But I can promise you that we’ll find things to be excited by. Okay? These next few weeks are going to feel weird, because as much as we’d like to think otherwise, being married does sort of change your whole life,” he waggled his left hand at Buck, the gold band Buck had carefully placed there (after dropping it, mid-ceremony, of course) glinting in the early afternoon sun.

“Good change, though,” Buck mumbled, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s waist, smiling to himself as his right hand caught the edge of his own wedding ring. He’d never been much of a jewellery guy – Buck rarely wore a watch outside of work, for crying out loud – so getting used to wearing a ring everyday had been odd. Good, but odd.

“The best change,” Eddie agreed. “Today is probably going to suck – at least a little,” he admitted. “Because we’ve got to get back to normality and that’s very hard after spending ten days island hopping in Greece with your very sexy husband.”

“Are you referring to me, or you as the sexy husband in this case?”

Eddie’s grin was audible. “Both of us,” he reassured. “But we’ll get through this shift, and we’ll collect Christopher from school, tomorrow, and we’ll do something nice. Yeah? We can take him for lunch.”

“That sounds nice.”

“We’ll just have to make a bit more effort to make our own excitement, now,” Eddie said, thoughtful. “But we’ll get used to it.”

Buck knew his husband – and God, was that going to take some getting used to – was right. He just still didn’t want to go to work. “Do you think they’re going to have a really stupid cake to welcome us back?

Eddie laughed, the sound reverberating throughout his body. “Yeah, I think they will, babe.”

#911 fox #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #911fic #for u madina some silly married buddie #in which i ramble #in which lorna writes fic

[strangebrews]

@madam-metaphor​ asked: 69. Ventriloquist

So Eddie was still out of a job. Not an ideal state to be in, by any means, though he’d excused the situation on being busy with other, more pertinent things—diverting an alien invasion, for starters.

But it’d been 2 months since anything urgent had come up and here was Eddie during a Wednesday afternoon, on the couch with a microwave dinner in his lap. TV shows had gotten worse nowadays, he was thinking, no respect for plot anymore, just pure drama. 

His bills were piling up—the stack of envelopes was becoming painfully apparent on the island in the kitchen, giant red notices bleeding onto the paper—but it wasn’t like Eddie hadn’t tried. He had tried—at the grocery store, the pet shop, even the fucking video rental place—yet none of the leads had amounted to any promising offer. He was just unlucky, that was all, he thought and took another bite.

You’re very lucky, Eddie. I decided to live in your body. Venom regarded itself quite highly.

He was flipping through channels now, irritated with his lack of options, Venom’s head perched on his shoulder. A streaming subscription, that’s what he needed. Another bill added to the mound, but it was necessary, because, “I mean look at this shit,” he gestured towards the TV with his remote, mouth full, “You cannot expect me to want to watch this kind of crap.” It’d been some ventriloquist—third fucking episode in a row—and Eddie jammed his finger into the skip in frustration. 

Wait.

Venom pressed a tendril to the back button and slithered closer to the screen, head cocked in interest.

How did he get that little human onto his arm?

Eddie gave Vee a crooked smile. He would admit, providing Venom explanations of silly human behaviors was one of his favorite aspects of this cohabitation. “It’s not a tiny human. It’s a puppet—not alive. You stick your arm up the hole in its ass and make it do things.” He laughed, amused at his own explanation. 

Venom’s eyes glimmered. Don’t we do the same thing?

 The laughing stopped. “No, no we do not do the same thing—it’s different. It’s very fucking different. You’re supposed to make jokes, create a show, have people watch you.”

The glimmer intensified. Let’s do that.

“Do what? Become a career ventriloquist?” a slow nod was Eddie’s only answer.  

Venom’s proposal was unsurpring, actually. It had grown increasingly frustrated recently—angry that Eddie could walk the streets now without anyone suspecting anything out of the ordinary, providing no indication they knew Venom was living inside. But the issue was that Venom wanted to be seen—wanted everyone to know that Eddie was taken, that this was Venom’s Eddie. It didn’t want anyone looking at him. Considering him.

Venom had thrown a fit once or twice in public already, accidentally shoved someone out through the glass doors of a bus because they’d brushed up against Eddie a little too often. And that had been an accident—the person was fine aside from a few scratches on the nose—but Venom had been sternly warned that day to never try anything like it again. 

“I’ll rip you out of me, Vee. I promise I will.” Obviously it was an exaggeration, but the image it produced was painful enough for Venom to agree.

So this was its roundabout way of being present in public. They could star in a show together—much like the one on TV—and Venom would have an excuse to stay on the outside, make itself known. It was a perfect idea.

I would make a great puppet, Eddie.

Eddie just laughed and brushed the crumbs off the front of his shirt. He used to be an esteemed journalist. He was not going to become a fucking ventriloquist for the afternoon broadcast. It was stupid. It was ridiculous. It was not an option. It was—

+

They were standing in front of the bathroom mirror, Venom’s head bobbing out from Eddie’s right hand, while another piece wrapped around his arm before cutting off entirely before the elbow. 

A puppet. A gooey, terrifying, alien puppet.

Venom had succeeded in getting Eddie to try the idea out—there was no harm in just trying, it’d argued. And yes, fucking had been a factor in the convincing process, but there was no need to focus on silly details.

They’d been glued to the same spot for nearly an hour now, Eddie trying to mold Venom’s mass into something a bit less menacing. He’d tried giving it pointed ears, a nose, some makeshift hair strands that were supposed to cover a part of Venom’s eyes, but they resembled creepy noodles, if anything else. The attempts were useless, so with a sigh Eddie gave in and moved onto the next issue. “We’ll just be really funny, to distract from the unconventional look.” Unconventional was his way of describing it, because there was no reason to hurt Vee’s feelings. 

Mouth movements proved to be a problem too. “You have to move it based on the shape of the words I’m saying. What you’re doing is not convincing at all.” Venom was just opening and closing its maw haphazardly, disregarding any authenticity. 

I’m meant to be a puppet. They lack the same facial mechanics. 

“Yeah, but—” Eddie cut himself off, because there was a point to be made here, he just wasn’t sure what it was. He set that aside for later. 

The tongue—the tongue had to go.

“It’s just a bit unsettling, is all, when you flick it all the way out like that, you know? Some might find it suggestive, others might think it's insulting.” So Venom curled it back into its maw, with some difficulty, but it’d managed.

Then they encountered an issue with the flow of the conversation. Eddie should have expected Venom to hit a few bumps in the road when it came to witty comebacks, but it really killed the vibe when it kept answering with things like Eddie, do you really think I look like a nasty talking tar ball?

Eddie even tried feeding Venom dialogue through his thoughts, but on the fourth failed attempt he decided they were done. “We tried, we basically failed. I’ve got more important things to do.”

Staring into your empty fridge so you can ignore your real problems isn’t very important. Eddie did not entertain Venom with a response.

+

Yes, he should have been looking for a job still, but Eddie chose to write a script instead. 

They had stopped after that fourth try, but returned to the mirror an hour later. Eddie was going to get it right—he was going to squeeze at least one original, funny thing out of Venom. 

On the seventh try he decided the only way out of this was writing a script.

Recording the video, with his phone resting on the dresser and the script hiding beside it, was also, just a one-off thing. A quick hyperfixation, nothing more.

He worked on their conversation for 2 days, smoothed out all the kinks in their performance during the 10 rounds of practice recordings. Venom could now shape its mouth around the words, kept its tongue inside, and even spoke at a higher pitch to make it more convincing. The pair was ready.

+

Uploading the video to Youtube had also been Eddie’s idea. He had not given up on the project, and neither had he given up on being in denial towards the fact that he was absorbed by said project.

“It’s just—I refuse to have wasted 5 fucking hours on this and keep it private, you know?” It was a weak argument, and he suspected Venom would have raised its eyebrows in doubt if it had any, but it stayed silent. 

He’d done some minimal editing. Nothing too fancy—just an intro and an outro, simple things he’d learned during his journalism days. “It’s not gonna get any views.” he was talking to himself at this point, mouse hovering over the Publish.

“It wasn’t even that funny.” The video had successfully appeared on the recent uploads page—Eddie had checked to make sure, but he didn’t necessarily care. 

“I’ll probably delete it in a day or two, anyway, mind you.” Venom continued to hide away.

+

Venom was only ever quiet for two reasons: it was tired, or it had won a battle with Eddie and had nothing more to say. This case slotted under the latter category.

Because Eddie had not deleted the video after a day or two—it was still floating around on the Internet and Eddie’s finger was beginning to cramp up from refreshing. And refreshing. And refreshing.

The result wasn’t anything major. It was only 100,000 hits in 5 days and the title was pure bait—kinda hard to pass up a video called “Famous Ex-Journalist Stuffs Hand Up Puppet’s Bumhole, Calls It Coping” (That’s a misleading title, Venom had noted. “I know, just trust me.”)

“It’s not even that funny of a video.” Eddie said again on the 6th day, but there was a smile tugging at his lips—nearing 200,000 now. 

Cooksucker3000 said your puppet is fucking dope, Eddie. Venom hummed along Eddie’s arms in satisfaction. The comments were its favorite part, for quite obvious reasons, and Eddie was too preoccupied with his own shower of compliments to correct Venom’s reading mistakes.

this is so hilarious!! 

i love the idea! 

good to see ur doing well - i remember u from tv! 

u r really fucking hot xx

Delete that. It has nothing to do with the contents of the video. So not all of the comments were Venom’s favorite.

+

When they hit 300,000 Eddie said, “Fine—I’ll write one more script. But after that, we’re done.” Venom did not put up a fight this time either.

Because fine, Eddie could say whatever he wanted, but they shared a fucking body at the end of the day—as if Venom wouldn’t have noticed him finishing up the 4th script of a series last night.

#symbrock #eddie brock #venom #mine #madam-metaphor #{screaming into the void} what am i Doing #anyway xoxo hope u like it

[xandertheundead]

Can I get reddie riding a horse?

You got it, Dude!

“Eddie, just get on the horse.”

Richie frowned down at the smaller man, who looked extremely uncomfortable at just being near the large animal. It was their one year anniversary of dating and Richie had planned the whole thing out to be romantic as fuck. They were going to go horseback riding on the beach, Eddie held tight in Richie’s arms as the races across the sand in the light of the setting sun. Then they’d stop at the spot where Richie had packed a picnic filled with Eddie’s favorite and then they’d drink some fancy shit champagne Richie had made sure to research was actually good.

Then he’d pull out the ring he’d bough two days after they started dating and propose.

It was perfect in every way...expect for the fact that Eddie refuses to get on the damn horse.

“Eddie come on.”

“Richie, do you know how dangerous horses are? Every year horse riding causes deaths and very serious injuries such as long term paralysis from spinal cord damage. Did you know that horse riding is like twenty times more dangerous that riding a motorcycle? I read it in an article when I was younger.”

“So you’d get on a motorcycle but not a horse?”

“At least you’re can control the motorcycle!”

Richie rilled his head back and groaned loudly, somehow not expecting his Spaghetti to be the one who would throw a wrench into his entire plans. Their horse, Luna, was a beautiful white horse and she was sweet as could be so he had no idea what about her scared Eddie so bad. “Dude, Luna is great. She even ate a carrot right out of my hand, she’s like the best horse they have.”

“They spook so easily, Richie.” Eddie frowned, but it was starting to look like a pout. “What if it sees something and bucks is off and then tramples is to death? I have a and early shift tomorrow, Richie! I can’t help sock people if I’m trampled to death!”

“She,” Richie corrected with a bit of annoyance. “Won’t be spooked cause there isn’t anyone for miles around here. We are almost completely alone, Eds. It will be fine.”

When Eddie still looked skeptical, Richie pulled out the sad doggie pout which Eddie always said made him look hideous but would always go along with it anyway. Just like always, Eddie started to deflate a little after a bit and he groaned before nodding.

“Fine! Fine.” He grumbled, looking at Luna like she was some kind of horse shaped bomb. “But only for a little bit...how-how do I get on?”

It took some finagling, but Richie was finally able to pull Eddie up so that he sat in front with his back against Richie’s chest. They started slowly, Eddie having a death grip on poor Luna’s mane which she didn’t exactly appreciate but didn’t put up too much of a fuss, and after awhile Richie could feel his boyfriend’s body start to ease up. Soon they were trotting along the coast and Richie could hear Eddie’s excitement when he would turn back to talk to Richie, large beautiful smile on his face.

It was when they got too comfortable and Richie got cocky that of course something went wrong. They had started galloping and Richie de used to let Eddie have the reigns, knowing it was something Eddie would enjoy and man did he. They booked it across the sand, the wind whipping through there hair and the smell of ocean air in their noses when Richie made the mistake of lossening his hold on Eddie’s waist.

Richie had never landed on his back harder in his life.

At the hospital, they wrapped his arm in the cast, giving him a sling as Eddie yelled at him the entire time. Richie sighed and closed his eyes, the pain medication doing wonders for making his mind go a little fuzzy and able to block out most of Eddie’s anger. He’d have to call Ben and ask him to pick up the picnic basket so the food didn’t spoil along with the champagne. Today wasn’t the day after all apparently.

It was when he was allowed his clothes back and Eddie was helping him into his shirt, when the small black box fell from the pocket in his jacket and both Eddie and him stared at it for a long time.

“Richie...” Eddie started softly. “What is that?”

Richie’s medicated brain tried to think quick. “A box.”

Good job, Tozier.

“What is in the box?” Eddie replied before moving to pick it up.

“Uhhh...” Richie’s brain wasn’t helping in this situation and it was really weird being so sluggish while also starting to panic when Eddie popped open the box. He watched as Eddie’s eyes widened, his mouth dropping open a bit and Richie knew he had to do something. “No! Baby, it’s a bomb!”

With that he snatched the box from Eddie’s hands, the lid snapping shut loudly and did first thing that came to mind.

He chucked that box right out the window.

“Richie!”

“Phew.” Richie sighed before laying back down on the hospital bed in half his shirt and boxers, suddenly even more exhausted than before. “Saved us.”

It took an entire staff of nurses and a few janitors to find the ring and when Richie was less medicated Eddie told him he was the biggest idiot he’d ever met. Then he pulled out a small box of his own and god damn it, it was the best day of Richie’s life.

Send me a prompt!

Taglist: @tinyarmedtrex @oldguybones @queen-sock @constantreaderfool @eddiefuckinkaspbrak @realstephenking @appojoos @inthebreadbinwrites @s-s-georgie @recycle-byn @mars-14 @marsisaplanetyall @moonlightrichie @madi-personal @pink-psychic @eduardoandale @nancynwheeler @edstozler @girasol-eddie @lifesucksheres20bucks @trashmouthnick @thorn-harvester-ven @yikesitsrylee @uppperteeeth @trashmouthtozierr

#asks #anon #my writing #reddie #eddie x richie #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #horse stuff #it (2019) #it (2017) #it stephen king #losers club

[trash-the-tozier]

Maybe 4 and 21 + Kaspbrough for the cliché thing? We need content of this ship so please

oh yes friend, we definitely need more kaspbrough content! ask for and you shall receive. (sorry this is so late, i happen to have fallen ill and wrote this whole thing in a feverish stupor at like 1am last night BUT i’m satisfied with it so)

words: 2.3k | ao3warnings: mentions of myra? lolprompt: 4. Kissing in the rain and getting soaked before running inside laughing21. Blind date set up by friends

send me a cliche prompt (list here: x) and a pairing and i’ll write a drabble!

“I’ve had it. Had it! I’m fucking done! I’m over it!” Eddie’s voice was sharp, his hand movements sharper; it was a good thing that Richie had moved around behind him and taken the glass from his hand, or he would have spilled his gin and tonic all over himself and the floor. 

“Over what, Eddie?” Beverly asked, smiling more in amusement than sympathy, though there was sympathy in her voice. Her overly patient tone made Bill grin a little, and Eddie threw himself onto the couch, not unlike a child, bumping hard into Stan as he did, who looked disgruntled but didn’t move away. 

“Being single.” 

They were all at Ben and Beverly’s, and all at least a little drunk. It wasn’t the usual time of year that they all met up, usually choosing to do so around birthdays–and always on New Year’s–but Richie had flooded the group chat with whiny voice messages about wanting to see them all, and miraculously, all of them were free to meet up, so they had. Ben and Beverly had the nicest place, the engaged couple living in the penthouse suite of a building that Ben had designed in New York. The place was incredibly fancy, but had homey, comfortable touches to it that had relaxed Bill as soon as he stepped in. 

“You’re ready, you think?” Mike asked, his eyebrows drawn together in concern. He had a wrinkle in his forehead from making that expression so often over the years, and Eddie nodded resolutely. Eddie had gotten divorced a little less than a year ago, and while Richie had thrown a rather distasteful party for him after hearing the news, Bill knew that all of the Losers were glad that he’d been able to recognize how unhealthy his marriage had been and escape it on his own. 

“I need a man.” Eddie said, his face one of sheer determination, Richie wolf-whistling loudly, both in response and in agreement. 

“What kind of man?” Ben asked. He was grinning, but that wasn’t a surprise; Ben loved love. “Anyone in mind?” 

“Fuck, I don’t know.” 

“A bro?” Stan asked, and the entire group burst into laughter. The incorporation of “bro” into Eddie’s vocabulary had been–and still was–the funniest discovery of them all when the Losers had met up again as adults after so long. They all liked patronizing him with it, but hearing Stan say it was possibly even funnier.

“Fuck you.” Eddie said, but he was a bit drowsy now, his voice going a bit pouty and cute, and Bill felt a smile grow on his face despite himself as he watched him, Eddie resting a little bit against Stan’s shoulder.

“You know Eddie, I might be able to find a guy for you. I think he’d be up for a date with you. A friend of mine.” Beverly said. Her tone was careful, and thoughtful. She glanced at Bill for a moment, almost as though asking his opinion–not that Bill had one to offer, he didn’t know who she was thinking about–before glancing down at Ben. She was perched on the armrest of the chair Ben was sitting in, and Ben looked back at her before shrugging his shoulders. 

“Dude, Bev, hook me up too.” Richie said from behind the bar. He wasn’t actually mixing any drinks, as all of them had declared themselves done with drinking for the night, instead tapping against the counter when he got the urge and chewing on ice. Beverly laughed. 

“Anyone else want a hookup?” She asked, Mike raising a hand resignedly, Bill doing the same. Beverly began to laugh, meeting Bill’s eyes again as she brought her drink to her lips. “I’ll see what I can do.”

The Losers planned on staying in New York for a total of five days, and on day three, while out exploring the city, Bill got a text from Beverly. 

From: Bev M.got you a date tonight!! semi-fancy restaurant. 7:00pm. The reservation is under my name. I’ll text u the address!!!

Oh. What? Bill simply stood there, staring at his phone screen. He hadn’t thought she was serious, when she’d asked for hookups. But here he was, with a date tonight. He would have kept standing there in his bewilderment if someone hadn’t bumped into his shoulder, making him realize that he was stock still in the middle of a New York City sidewalk, and he began back to his hotel room. He had to start getting ready. 

The restaurant was fifteen minutes away, so Bill left his hotel room with thirty minutes to spare, navigation turned on and cell phone in hand. He hadn’t really brought any fancy clothes on the trip with him, but he hadn’t had the time or the energy for a full shopping trip, so he was making do with some light blue slacks and a plain white dress shirt, hoping that the fact that the shirt was tucked in and that the leather shoes and the leather belt matched was enough to pull the whole look together. 

He arrived at the restaurant ten minutes early, but when he told the host the name his reservation was under, he gave a curt nod, telling Bill that the other half of his party was there already, and asking him to “follow me, please”. Bill felt the first thrum of nerves in his chest, reaching up to fiddle with the buttons on his shirt, wondering if he should unbutton a few–having two popped open was too many, right?–when the host stopped, and Bill stopped, and his date looked up at him. 

“…the fuck, bro?”

Eddie. Eddie was sitting there, staring up at him. He looked and sounded stunned, and Bill was sure he had an equally stunned look on his own face. But Eddie… Eddie was dressed very nicely, in a red dress shirt and black suit jacket, his hair styled, and it completely threw Bill for a moment. He looked incredible. 

“Are… Are you sure this is the right table?” Bill asked. “For the reservation?”

The host looked annoyed. “Party of two for Beverly Marsh at seven, correct?” He asked. Bill nodded, seeing Eddie also nod in the corner of his eye. “I assure you sir, this is the proper table. Please.” He gestured to the chair, and at a loss for what else to do, Bill sat. 

“A server will be with you shortly.” The man told them both, before whisking himself away. 

The silence between them was heavy for a moment, slightly tense and very unsure, before Bill decided to shake himself out of it. This was Eddie, the same Eddie he’d known since childhood. No reason to act strange. 

“You clean up really nice, Eds.”

“Oh, shut up.” Eddie answered, not looking at him, though there was a pink dusting across his cheeks, visible in the romantically dim lighting of the restaurant, that told Bill he’d liked the compliment anyway. “What the hell was Bev thinking?”

“This is probably just a joke.” Bill said. It was the only thing that made sense to him. He wasn’t sure why she would set him up with Eddie, someone she’d said she had an actual date for, but still. Maybe her original plan had fallen through. Maybe she’d been messing with them the entire time. Or maybe not.

“Richie and Stanley had better not be hiding around a goddamn bush somewhere, with a fucking camera or something.” Eddie said, glancing around for a moment, the idea of it making Bill laugh. He found he wouldn’t mind some footage of this night, sneakily taken on Richie Tozier’s phone or not. Eddie really, really looked good. 

Take a picture. The familiar phrase crossed his mind, usually reserved for men gawking at pretty girls. It’ll last longer.

“Joke or not, Beverly and Ben are the ones paying.” Bill pointed out, picking up his menu. “We might as well have a nice dinner, right? The food looks really good.” 

Eddie gave the proposal a thought for a moment before nodding. They both ordered shortly after, and once Eddie gave his heavily modified order to their poor waiter, who was writing all the allergies and substitutions down as quickly as she could, he seemed to relax. That had Bill relaxing in turn—once a leader, always a leader, never able to fully sit back if one of his own was in distress—and they began to talk. 

Bill always forgot how nice it was to spend time with Eddie until he was actually doing it. They’d spent a lot of time together as kids, the two of them friends before anyone else in the Losers Club. And often, when they were together, they weren’t doing anything specific, just being in each other’s company; doing homework together, reading side by side, Bill telling Eddie a story he’d thought up to write. Eddie was the first one to hear about his dreams of being a author, and the first one to support him with them. 

Despite all of the familiarity, it still felt like a date, too. There was a slight, underlying sense of anticipation, of anxiousness. There was Eddie, still acting himself, but with a thread of self-consciousness to his movements and his words. Bill, unable not to linger for what might be a moment too long whenever their eyes met. 

Two hours and over a hundred dollars out of Beverly’s pocket later—she was a fashion designer, she could take it—they left the restaurant and broke out onto the street. They were staying at the same apartment, walking in that direction together. A few drops began to fall, Bill glancing up. The weather app on his phone hadn’t said anything about rain, but there the clouds were. Eddie, of course—Eddie, always prepared—reached into an inside pocket of his suit jacket, opening up a compact umbrella. Bill ducked under it, Eddie accommodating him without Bill having to ask, and being so close had Bill noticing two things: Eddie smelled incredibly good, and Eddie was a solid two inches taller than him.

“Fuck.” Bill muttered, having to glance up to look at Eddie’s face. The word was more to himself, but Eddie was close enough to hear, and laughed. 

“Don’t worry about it, you’ll always be Big Bill to me.” Eddie said. Rain was steadily coming down harder. “It wasn’t really a height title anyway; it’s just you, you know?”

“Me?”

“Being a leader, being strong, being fast, being brave, all that shit.” 

“You’re brave too.” Bill said; he couldn’t help it. “What you did, leaving Myra—I’m proud of you. I don’t know if I ever said that.”

Eddie took the words at a nod, seeming to think them over, his lips scrunching as he did; seeming to taste them in his mouth. 

“You were always the bravest of us, Bill. You can not argue—” He must have seen Bill’s mouth open in the corner of his eye— “Because you have no idea—you have no idea how cool I thought you were.”

“Oh, were. Ouch” Past tense. Bill had to laugh a bit. “That hurts, Eds.”

Eddie stopped to laugh when he realized the backhanded sort of compliment, seemingly too caught up in nostalgia to notice it at first. 

“Please, you can’t pretend you didn’t have a fucking soft spot for me.”

They weren’t walking anymore, very close together under Eddie’s tiny umbrella. While not completely empty, the rain had emptied the streets enough for them to be left to talk without blocking the sidewalk. 

“How could I not?” Bill asked back. “You, you…”

Eddie always had this look, when they were kids, a look that had been so plain and open that Bill couldn’t have missed it if he tried. And he didn’t try, unable to help but bask in it instead—a look that told him that Eddie thought Bill had been the one to hang the moon. The expression was covered up more as they got older, taken over by teenage self-awareness, but still peeking through every now and then. Now that they’d grown, Bill figured that the look was gone, that Eddie’s admiration of him had to have faded. 

But it was here, now, also mixed with adoration as Eddie looked down at him, so plain and so open and full, and all Bill wanted to do was kiss him. So he did. 

Eddie’s grip slackened on the umbrella and a moment later it was swept away, but that didn’t matter in the slightest because Eddie’s hands were on his face, kissing him back. 

That energy that Eddie had, that energy always under the surface; Bill could feel it as Eddie kissed him, as Eddie pressed as close as possible, but the kiss wasn’t hard, or harsh, or fast. It was soft, as gentle as Eddie was timid, but as sincere as Eddie was brave. 

Rain was falling down around them, down on them, but Bill didn’t notice it until they broke apart, the drops big and cold and heavy on their cheeks and shoulders and in their hair. Bill found he didn’t care, either, about getting wet; his hand found the back of Eddie’s neck, still wanting to be close, smiling as he felt Eddie’s forehead rest against his own.

“You know Bill, of all the times I imagined kissing you, I never imagined having to lean down to do it.” Eddie told him, and Bill burst into laughter. 

“Fuck you.” He said, Eddie laughing too, the two of them having to lean away to avoid knocking heads. The umbrella was completely gone to the wind now, and with light touches and even lighter hearts, made a mad and laughing dash towards Bill’s hotel room. The rain might have been cold, but it was the warmest Bill had felt in a long time. 

#kaspbrough #eddie kaspbrak #bill denbrough #kaspbrough fic #it fic #it 2017 #it 2019 #myfic #i'm still trying to get used to writing them as adults #but this was fun!! #asks #Anonymous

[thestarsaroundyourscars]

I met you in the dark, you lit me up, ch 3

Chapter 3: The days before their first date

Summary: In which Richie is struggling with the planning of his date, Beverly comes to his aid and him and Eddie are the cutest boys ever, all excited about seeing each other again.

Pairing: Richie Tozier x Eddie Kaspbrak

Words: 3,128

AO3 link

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Tag list: @daddyphantomtbh @yes-dillman-yes @richietoaster @beepbeeprichiellc♥ And @thetheatregal because you told me you like being tagged in stuff, babe :)

Since the day of their first call, Richie and Eddie had talked to each other constantly, whether through texts or through phone calls. That very same day, Richie texted him right after hanging up and they talked till later that night when Richie fell asleep immediately after getting home from his shift at the radio station. When he woke up the next day, he texted Eddie, apologizing for falling asleep on him and they resumed their conversation from the night before.

Even though part of the reason why Eddie told Richie to text him after talking on the phone was to discuss the details of their upcoming date, they talked about everything except that.

When Eddie tried approaching the subject, Richie just said that he was going to take care of everything and that all Eddie had to worry about was getting his cute little butt ready on time for Richie to pick him up on Saturday. Eddie was reluctant at first, he didn’t like surprises and he didn’t want to end up going somewhere he wouldn’t enjoy and ruining the date because it got him in a bad mood, but Richie was being awfully stubborn about it, saying he was the one who asked Eddie out and therefore should be the one to plan the whole thing, so he agreed in the end.

Now Richie was regretting his decision. Not asking Eddie out on a date, that is probably the best thing he has done in his life so far, but saying he would be responsible for planning it? That, he most definitely regret.

He had no idea what to do. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, he had a lot of ideas but none of them seemed good enough and if there was one thing he was sure of was that he wanted everything to be perfect.

Right now he was in his bedroom, with an open notebook over his crossed legs. On its pages Richie would scribble down whatever idea for a first day that came to his head, only to cross it out after not liking it enough.

Drinks at a bar? Been there, done that. Dinner at a fancy restaurant? Too cliché, not to mention they were both college students, and even if both of them had jobs they didn’t have enough money to be expending it on teeny tiny sized portions of food. Bowling? Roller skating? He wasn’t really trying to embarrass himself in front of Eddie or end up at the ER for falling down on his face and breaking his nose or dropping a bowling ball on his foot and breaking his toe, both of which had happened to him before. Games at the arcade? Lame as fuck for a first date. Stroll down the park? There is only so much walking they can do and they’d be back at their respective homes after only an hour or so. Movie Theater? Not much chance for talking. A picnic? Carnival? Coffee date?

Richie groaned irritated, he threw the notebook against the wall and let himself fall backwards on his bed.

“Why is this so fucking hard?” he muttered, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes with his hands.

He heard the door open but he didn’t open his eyes nor did he sit back down.

“Homework giving you a hard time?” Beverly asked. Richie felt her sit down on the edge of his bed and place a hand on his ankle.

“This is actually worse than homework” he replied, supporting himself on his elbows to look at her, but without his glasses on, all he was able to see was a blurry mess of colors where Beverly should have been, “I have absolutely no idea where to take Eddie on our first date.”

He didn’t need to be able to see Bev’s face clearly to know she was eyeing him skeptically. He saw her stand up and grab what Richie guessed was the notebook he had thrown away in frustration. She sat down again, this time on Richie’s desk chair.

“These aren’t bad ideas, Rich” she said, Richie grabbed his glasses and put them on. He saw her frown, “not all of them at least. Shopping mall, Richie? Really?”

“Trust me, I fucking know. But I’ve been at this for hours and every idea I manage to come up with is as bad as the last one. I’m kind of desperate at this point, Marsh” he said with a frown of his own, falling back on the bed again.

“You need to relax. It’s just a first date, honey, it’s not like you’re planning to propose” she said, shaking her head.

He sat up and with all seriousness he said, “No, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want it to be perfect. He deserves an amazing first date, Bev, and I want to give it to him.”

Beverly was looking at him with a soft smile on her face, making Richie fidget under her stare.

“What?” He asked her.

“Nothing, I just… I’ve never seen you like this, Rich, not with anyone.”

“Yeah well, I’ve never felt this way with anyone before.” She was still looking at him in that way, so he added, “Stop looking at me like that!”

She laughed, “I just think it’s cute” Richie rolled his eyes and before he got the chance to reply she continued, “Fine, I’ll stop. I still think you are giving this way too much thought” she said.

Richie groaned. “What do you think I should do then?”

“You need to think about what Eddie likes, you two have been talking nonstop these past few days, you must know some of those things by now”.

“Well, yeah but I don’t… wait, how do you know we’ve been talking?” He asked, narrowing his eyes at her.

“Oh please” she says, rolling her eyes, “You get all excited whenever you get a text and then there’s that stupid smile you get when you are texting back. Not to mention, last night you locked yourself up in here for like an hour and I could hear you talking and laughing through the door.”

“You’re listening to me through the door, Marsh? What if I was doing something more R-rated than talking on the phone?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows at her.

“As gross as that would be, it wouldn’t be the first time that has happened to me” she said with a grimace, “Anyways, there’s also the fact that yesterday you made us walk back from the subway station to the apartment, even though we were already late for our classes, once you found out you had forgotten your phone because ’Jesus fuck, Beverly, what if someone texts me? What will they think if I don’t answer’?” she said, mocking Richie. He rolled his eyes at her but he could feel himself starting to blush. Holy shit, she’s right. I’ve been acting like a 13 year-old with a crush, he thinks.

“Fuck off, like you are any better when it comes to Ben” he replies and the reaction is instantaneous, Beverly’s eyes widen and she blushes furiously like she always does whenever he, Stan or Mike bring Ben up.

They both stay silent, embarrassed and looking everywhere except at each other. Eventually, Richie clears his throat and talks.

“He likes animals.”

Beverly must have spaced out, because she looks confused when she asks, “What?”

“Eds. Eddie. He likes animals. His mother didn’t let him have pets when he was a kid because he had a bunch of allergies, so he would spend a lot of his time learning about them, he read books and watched Animal Planet every night before bed. He told me there was this one time when they took his class to an aquarium. It took a lot to convince his mom to let him go, she’s kind of overbearing and was worried he would get sick or something. He told me that in the end she only let him go, because Bill’s mom, Bill is one of his best friends, volunteered to go and promised Eddie’s mom she would look after him. He says that trip is still one of his favorite memories” he doesn’t look at Beverly while saying this, he’s playing with a loose thread on his bed and smiling at the memory of Eddie telling him that story over the phone.

“There was one thing that prevented the day from being perfect though. Parents had to sign an extra permit if they wanted to allow their kids to feed the otters but Eddie’s mom didn’t sign it, so he had to stay back while his classmates fed and played with them. He was devastated, they’re his favorite animals, the otters, he told me that”, he recounts.

“That’s so fucking cute” Beverly said with a smile.

“Yeah, I know, I told him that too.”

They fall silent again and Richie is startled when Beverly straightens in the chair, grabs Richie’s laptop and starts typing.

“The hell are you doing, Bev?” Richie asks but she only gestures at him to keep quiet and keeps typing.

He’s about to ask her again what has gotten into her when she stands up, computer in hand and turns to look at him. She has a crazy look on her face and Richie eyes her warily, usually he is the one giving Beverly that look right before dragging her alone to do something brilliant or stupid, most of the times is the latter. He’s not used to being on the other end of that look, it’s somewhat terrifying.

“Okay, you’re freaking me out Bev. What’s going on?”

“Oh nothing, I just had the perfect idea for your date with Eddie.”

Richie raises an eyebrow expectantly but she just stays where she is and says nothing. Richie sighs, “Well? Are you going to tell me or just stare at me like some crazy woman?”

Instead of answering, she puts the computer on his lap and points at the screen where the results for what she typed are showing.

Richie’s eyes scan the computer and he takes a moment to feel stupid for not thinking about this himself. Then he looks at Beverly and her grin is just as big as his.

“Beverly Marsh, you are a fucking genius” he says.

“What can I say? I try” She says with a shrug, then while pointing at the computer screen she adds, “Click there for more information.”

Richie looks back at the computer and clicks on the link like Bev said. And as he does, all he can think is, Eddie Spaghetti, get ready for the best first date of your life.

-♥-

“You’re still not going to tell me?” Richie hears Eddie ask through the phone.

“Nope” he answers. He is currently in the kitchen, making dinner. He’s making spaghetti and meatballs, and Eddie already threatened to hang up on him if he made one more joke about it.

Richie always loved to cook, and to everyone’s surprise, he was actually really good at it, so good that he used to be the designated cook in his circle of friends, meaning him, Bev and Stan before they met Mike.

After the first time they tried Mike’s food, they all agreed he was a better cook than Richie. That didn’t mean he stopped cooking for them, he liked doing it and they encouraged it. Last Christmas, they had gotten Richie an apron with the words “Kiss the cook” written on the front, only before giving it to him, they had crossed out the word kiss and wrote ’Fuck’ instead, Bev’s idea. Richie had laughed like crazy after seeing it and had put it on immediately. He was actually wearing that apron right now.

“I already told you, I hate surprises.”

“Well my dear Eddie Spaghetti, you are going to have to suck it up” he said “I am not telling you anything other than ’Be ready at 11:00 on Saturday and make sure you wear those shorts you wore on the day we met’.”

Eddie sighed, “Fine, I hate you.”

“No, you don’t, babe, don’t lie” he said.

Even though he had the phone on speaker he could hear Eddie let out a little squeak, caught off guard by the pet name, even though Richie had been using it more and more when they talked. He couldn’t wait to call him that to his face and see his reaction in person.

“Richie?” he heard him ask in a small voice.

“Yeah?”

“I just… I’m really looking forward to our date, that’s all” he said shyly, “even if you won’t tell me what we are doing.”

The confession caught Richie off guard, so much that he spilled more oil in the pan than he meant to, which made some of it splash his arm, burning him.

“Fuck! Shit, fuck, fuck, fuck!” he screamed in pain, while running towards the sink and putting his arm under the running water.

“Richie? Oh my God, are you okay?” he heard Richie asked, alarmed.

“I’m fine, Eds. It’s nothing.”

“That was a lot of yelling for nothing.”

“I might have… burned my arm a little? Some of the hot oil splashed me. But it’s okay now.”

“Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent, don’t you worry your pretty little head about it” he said, turning off the water, it still hurt a bit but it was bearable.

“Okay… I don’t understand why your friends let you anywhere near the kitchen with no supervision though” chuckled Eddie.

“Hey, I have everything under control here.”

“Uh huh, forgive me if I don’t believe you after what just happened, Rich.”

“That wasn’t my fault! You distracted me with your… your flirting!”

“I wasn’t flirting!” Eddie yelled, “I was just… uh… you’re the one who is always flirting!”

“You say that like I’m trying to be subtle about it” Richie answered and the smirk was evident on his voice.

He could practically hear Eddie trying to think of something to say that would take this conversation in a different direction, but he didn’t seemed to be able to come up with anything.

Luckily for Eddie, Stan, Mike and Bev chose that exact moment to barge into the apartment.

“Damn, it smells amazing in here!” he heard Mike say.

“Richie?” That was Bev.

“No, Beverly, I’m pretty sure that’s just some murderer who decided to have some dinner while he waited for someone to kill” And that was definitely Stan. He heard Mike laughed and what sounded like Beverly punching Stan in the arm.

“Stan the man gets off a good one!” Richie yelled while grabbing his phone and taking it off speaker, “Hey, Eds, you still there?”

“Yeah, I’m here. I’m guessing you have to go now.”

“I can stay on the line some more.”

“No, no, your friends are there, you should go talk to them.”

“But I want to talk to you too.”

“Rich, we’ve been talking for” he paused and Richie guessed he was looking at his phone screen, “48 minutes.” Wow, I didn’t even notice it had been that long, he thinks, Eddie continues, “Aren’t you getting tired of listening to my voice?”

“Never” he answers. He doesn’t want to hang up, but Eddie is right, his friends are there and soon enough they will invade the kitchen looking for food and it’s going to be impossible to hold a conversation with them if he’s still on the phone, “But you’re right, I should go. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, Rich, I should try and get some homework done anyways.”

“Hey Eds?” Eddie hums so Richie knows that he is listening, “You’re not the only one who is looking forward to our date, you know? I really can’t fucking wait to see that cute face of yours again.”

He hears Eddie groan and he panics when he thinks he might have gone too far, especially when he says, “You know what I am not looking forward to?” Fortunately, before Richie can freak out, Eddie answers his own question, “You being able to see how much I fucking blush whenever you say things like that.”

Richie laughs out loud and Eddie joins him. “Oh but Eddie, that is my favorite fucking thing.”

“Yeah, yeah, goodbye Trashmouth.”

I knew telling Eds about that particular nickname was going to come back to bite me in the ass, he thinks. “Bye, Eddie Spaghetti” he says and Eddie ends the call after a half-hearted “Don’t call me that.”

He puts the phone down and turns around, there standing in front of him on the doorway are Beverly, Mike and Stan staring at him.

“How long have you three nosy losers been standing there?” he asks.

“Long enough to witness what is probably the gayest phone call of all times” Stan answers and the three of them start laughing and imitating Richie horribly.

“Oh Eddie Spaghetti I love you.”

“I don’t ever want to stop talking to you.”

“I’m counting down the days to see your angelic face again.”

Richie glares at them but he can feel his face burn in embarrassment.

“You fuckers are just jealous” He grumbles while flipping them off. For some reason that only makes his friends laugh even more. He leaves the kitchen to go and hide in the bathroom until his face recovers its natural pale color but their laughter follows him.

He feels his phone vibrate in his hand from a new text, he sees its Eddie’s and rushes to unlock the phone so he can read it. He is glad he is no longer in the kitchen because the way he is smiling just because of the fact that Eds texted him would have earned him even more teasing.

Turns out the message is actually a picture, on it Richie sees Eddie’s desk, there are books, sheets of paper and a bunch of pens, in one corner there is a package of Oreo cookies and a glass of milk. The caption for the picture says:

Compared to your dinner, mine is pretty lame.

I’m happy we talked. Goodnight, Rich.

-Your very own Spaghetti :)

PS: Only I get to make those jokes. If you try, you die.

Richie practically whines at the adorableness that is Eddie Kaspbrak. He guesses some teasing from his friends is a small price to pay for talking to, and hopefully in a near future dating, a guy like him.

He takes a quick selfie and sends it to him, with the caption “Goodnight, you cutie” and almost immediately he gets another picture, this time of Eddie smiling at him through the camera. Yeah, he thinks, that face is most definitely worth all the teasing in the world.

#reddie #reddie fanfic #richie tozier x eddie kaspbrak #eddie kaspbrak x richie tozier #it stephen king #the losers club #beverly marsh #mike hanlon #stan uris #richie tozie #eddie kaspbrak #my work #my writing #i met you in the dark you lit me up #chapter 3

[tigressaofkanjis]

An Outlasting Halloween - Killer Croc x Bane

A fanfic I wrote for Halloween with our two favorite dorks. Remember this post? Yeah, I decided to act upon it. I don't regret this and considering my version of Croc gained more than enough confidence after accepting himself, crossdressing would be something he would do to drive Bane insane. Years of rivalry has led to this moment and Croc is going to make Bane suffer for one night.

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

“Bane. Bane.”

“Hmm?”

“Bane, come here. I have the greatest idea for a Halloween costume! In fact, I have one for you two,” Waylon excitedly curled his tail as he grinned like Jervis at a tea party.

The luchador-themed man rolled his eyes in amusement at his partner -in-crime’s enthusiasm. He walked over to the couch Waylon was lying on with his laptop and a juvenile gator as his feet sleeping. He watched the large ridged tail wagging up and down as Croc turned his laptop towards Bane.

“Amigo, I don’t know what so special about a character who appears to be wearing a damaged fancy vest and dirty white shirt. Also, is that blood over his right eye?” Bane questioned, squinting at the pictures.

Killer Croc nodded quickly, “Do you remember the video game, Outlast, the game Drury and Garfield decided to make a react series out of for YouTube? You remember the DLC they were oh so engaged in?”

The man raised brow, “Oh you mean the one where you have to escape an asylum of sorts. That one? And this is-cual es su nombre-Eddie Glue…skin?”

“Gluskin, yes. He’s one of the main antagonists and I thought since you have the hair cut like him as well as that old ballroom suit you only used three years ago when you first came here that you would fit the character perfectly. We could add real blood or fake to a machete or something, add some makeup and you’d fit the look quite well!”

Bane crossed his arms, “Really? And what will I do all dressed up in a costume, compañero? We don’t have many places to go on Halloween except cause some mischief raiding houses while everyone is distracted, but our friends are hardly going to go with us for something as childish as that.”

Croc smirked, “What if I told you Kirk and his wife, Garfield, Fries, Jervis, and others are dressing up and they have plans to just have some pointless fun because like you said, it’s Halloween. Why rob a bank on Halloween when we could terrorize the houses for our treats? Besides if you wish to dress up, I have a plan to match you. While you are Eddie Gluskin , I’ll be Waylon Park. I have the attire thanks to Harley and Ivy so I’m set.”

Upon thinking about the benefits and cons of this proposed Halloween team up, Bane say really no downside that would set them back. At most, Batman would just slap their wrists probably out of annoyance considering the holidays were by far his least favorite time to crime fight them and an agitated Bruce was no fun.

Clicking his tongue, Bane shrugged finally, “Sure, why not? I’ll call Page Monroe and see if she can lend me her tailor to ‘mess up’ my perfect vest and shirt. Also, doesn’t this Waylon from the game wear a jumpsuit, a morbid tannish brown? That doesn’t seem as creative as you would usually do.”

A very strange smirk played on Waylon’s face, “Trust me, I’m not wearing the jumpsuit. I’m going to wear something more appropriate in contrast to your outfit that would make our team up even more special. Just wait and see.”

Narrowing his eyes, Bane bit his lip and grunted in an acknowledgeable but confused fashion. When he left, Waylon peered in the opposite direction towards one of his henchmen who was sharpening a few blades while watching some older cartoons.

“Vic, mon home, I need you to call Harley and tell her it’s on. Le marié a accepté la proposition.”

The brutish henchman nodded with a smirk and set the weapon he was working on down to grab the phone and started dialing.

Croc laughed, “Oh Bane, let’s see how confident you really are.” --------------------------------------

Today was Halloween and all the adults and kids were about to leave at dusk to get candy and lots of it. Bane had agreed to take part only because of his intriguing colleague was so excited for it.

Designing the suit wasn’t as difficult as Bane imagined it would be. Page was gracious enough to let him use her tailor and offered him some choice options for the costume as well. Trousers which had been worn with patches were apparently a runway fashion once but of course, it never flew past the stage with the judges and it was around his size surprisingly. With a few altercations, it was his and the vest he brought was ripped apart and stitched back to replicate Gluskin’s demented fabrication.

Croc was right when he said he had the perfect haircut for the part as no changes were necessary. He did, however, have to go to Harley Quinn for makeup touches as he wasn’t quite cosmetically savvy as the clown was. With little effort, she managed to make his right side of his face look bloody and deformed from certain angles without the need for any prosthetics. He had to admit he was impressed.

“Damn Bane, you look like the spitting image of Eddie Gluskin! Holy crap! Maybe a bit more ripped than Eddie but you’re really rocking it, like wow dude!” Firefly said as he stared in amazement.

Even the ever stoic Mr. Freeze was wide eyed at the design. “I have to say, I’m a little jealous. Waylon is going to have a field day with this. His costume is quite good too and what he admires in you, you’ll probably admire in him.”

That made Bane pause, “You’ve seen Waylon’s costume?”

“Yes, Ivy, Jonathan and I helped design it. I helped with…certain parts of the costume while Ivy did the layout and sewed the materials with Jon. I have to say even though I’m not particular that fond of men over women, Waylon’s outfit is very sexy. It really emphasizes the curves of his muscles and not to mention does amazing work for his hips.”

That drew a suspicious look from Bane but he didn’t dare question it. Garfield was nodding too which meant he had seen it as well. The chances of them telling him what it was exactly were slim because they knew better than to ruin the surprise.

So Croc was dressed sexy? That usually didn’t fit the man’s ideal in clothing but considering he was in fact a walking, talking crocodile basically, his standards and dignity were pretty lax. No matter what Waylon was in, nobody outside of the Asylum would be paying attention to his attire; they would be more fixated on his appearance and run in fear of being killed than stop to question his clothing choices.

It did make Bane very curious as to what Waylon was wearing. He recalled the video game Outlast was mainly prison-clad bad guys with deformities and blood but nothing really sexy. The character Waylon Park was pursued by the Groom to be his bride but-no, there was no way Croc managed to get a wedding dress. That was insane but why would Waylon do that?

Bane entered the lounge area which only had a couple of Croc’s henchmen with glow in the dark white paint over their armor and faces to resemble skeletons. Even their guns on their hips had bones painted on. He was surprised at their dedication.

“Muchachos, where is Waylon?”

The men gave a snicker seemingly at him and one pointed behind him with his thumb over to the bathroom. There was a laugh from the inside and sure enough, the door swung open and a white gown blood stained and ripped on the right side to somewhat show the scales of Waylon’s leg flowed gracefully as Croc leaned against the frame of the door cockily.

Bane was stunned at the appearance and no words could come to mind to describe his feelings towards it. The strapless top piece seemed to be tight as a corset as he could see some of the muscle underneath the fabric, and the breast area outlined by pearls pushed against Waylon’s pecks and pushed them high enough to give the illusion of actual cleavage. Waylon wore bridal glove with open palms and fingers but was torn to accommodate his arm spikes while his neck held a simple white band as a necklace. The strip that marked the end of the corset and the beginning of the flowing gown was also dowsed in pearls, gripping tightly against the outline of Croc’s hips. The gown itself was mostly intact but the right side had a slit for his leg which supported a rather peculiar garter on his middle thigh. Blood stains were prominent under the breasts to appear like they were operated on and the blood soaked through while a huge blood mark was right on the gown and just above the hip line strip indicating a “forced” fake sex change had occurred, just like Eddie Gluskin would have done. In Croc’s left hand, a video camera was held and on top of his head, a bridal tiara with pearls and silver plus a veil flowing down his neck was there and quite beautiful.

While Bane was more than obviously peering over Waylon’s costume, the mutated man was grinning like a hyena at how he managed to baffle the ex-terrorist. “When I said I had a surprise for you, didn’t think it would be this, did you?”

Bane snapped out of his trance and stuttered, “N-no, I can honestly say…just…whoa!”

Pushing off from his lean, Waylon strode closer to the other man with a very calm reserve. “What can I say, being married to Ivy taught me well.”

“I-I um…you look amazing,” the Hispanic man spoke.

The henchmen on the opposite side of the room giggled and one took a picture with both Waylon and Bane in the picture facing each other. The guard who snapped it whispered, “I am so posting this on Twitter!”

Bane swallowed loud and uneasily as Croc merely blinked slowly, still holding a sweet smile. “You really capture the-the aesthetic of the game. The garter is a-heh a very nice touch.”

“So did you it seems. The garter was last minute because this rip in the gown was actually an accident. My hips were straining against the fabric and one side couldn’t take the pressure, so I had to finish the rip and add something more in tune to what Gluskin would want. The tiara and veil though I could probably do without. That part was Scarecrow’s idea and Freeze, being the one who did my pearl embroidery, was against it,” Waylon purred, taking off the crown.

He threw it to his henchmen and the one who caught it quickly put in on his head and smirked as the others laughed at him. One even tried to grab at the tiara was playfully pushed away by a now sassy royal skeleton-faced guard.

Waylon chuckled before turning back to Bane, “You look like you don’t know how to feel about this. Or maybe you’re starting to realize you like seeing me cross dress. What’s the matter, Bane? Finally confronted with a fight inside you can’t win.”

“Wha-no, no, I am thinking about some things but I’m not-no. Besides I have to ask, is that dress even comfortable? It looks like it’s molded to you.”

Croc clutched the rim of the breast attire and dragged it upward a bit with a wiggle before confidently letting go with a smug pose, “Are you kidding me, this is actually quite comfy and admit it, I make this look good. It has padding and defines my form perfectly.”

Bane raised a brow, “And your dignity?”

“What dignity?” Croc gestured around him and laughed, “Bane, I’m a nine foot plus human being with a skin condition worsened by a military experiment. I used to hate myself for being such a freak but now I see there is nothing to be afraid of. I’m me and if society doesn’t like it, they can kiss my ass. I can do whatever I want now and wearing a dress for a costume is one of them, especially if it gets me what I want. I don’t have a lot of moral standards anymore when it comes to clothing or society norm. At this point, I’m just going with whatever I can pull off. Ha, this dress is actually really comfortable; you should try it.”

“Thank you but I prefer pants over a dress. You actually do look good in a dress, I’ll…um…admit that,” Bane muttered, occasionally glancing down from Croc’s face to the rest of his body when the latter turned his head away to look at his mooks.

As soon as Croc peered back at him, he averted his gaze immediately and resumed making eye contact. Waylon just smiled and played innocent, “Then perhaps you and I should start greeting Gotham and its trick-or-treaters, maybe steal some candy while we’re at it. I heard the more wealthy ones are giving away much more this year like king sized items. Of course, I am hoping we have enough candy to last us until the morning. Maybe we’ll both get a much bigger treat at the end. Who knows?”

“Uh, sure. Lead the way, Croc,” Bane nervously replied, blushing which made the red makeup he wore seemingly glow if not making the rest of his face almost the exact shade of red. Croc’s henchmen still snickered at him as they followed their boss out, protecting him like a pack of wolves.

When Waylon swept past him, he had to hike up his gown a bit to walk and not trip over it. This gave the Hispanic man a much clearer view of the garter and trailing behind the gown was the reptilian tail Bane almost forgot about albeit it was well hidden, curled beneath the gown mostly. He also took not that the dress covering the part of the spine where the tail met made Waylon appear as if he had a rather large rear.

Unbeknownst to him, Waylon knew exactly what he was doing and his grin grew to reveal practically all his teeth. He was Waylon Park to Bane’s Gluskin but apparently, he was the sadistic one. What an interesting reversal of characters. Croc couldn’t wait to see Bane’s resistance in doing something about him crack throughout the night. This was going to be fun.

#i dont know #bane #waylon jones #killer croc #Happy Halloween #outlast: whistleblower #eddie gluskin #waylon park #maybe i'll write a sequel #and it'll be naughty #who knows