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fitrahgolden · 8 months

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Should You Need Me: 8 - Wait for me, please hang around

"I'm seeing someone."

Kaveri, Mary, and Edwina went silent mid laugh. Kate looked back at all of them around the dinner table, and she felt her anxiety stricken face relax into a smile she couldn't help whenever she thought of Anthony lately.

"Oh, Didi!" Edwina clapped her hands together. "The way your face just lit up. So cute!"

Kate chuckled. "Thanks, Ed."

"Mary, didn't I tell you? Did I not tell you?!" Kaveri pointed unnecessarily at Mary, who pushed her finger away with an eye roll.

"Yes, Kav. You did."

Kate furrowed her brows. "How could you have possibly known, Amma?"

"Well, I know it was something."

"I can confirm she said there was, quote, 'something.'" Mary deadpanned.

Kaveri waved dismissively. "Ignore her. It's just that… Things had been getting better but, a little while ago, you simply started glowing, Chellam. It's been beautiful to watch. We just didn't know why."

Kate wanted to grimace at the word "glowing," but as she looked at her family, all of whom looked so happy for her, she found the cliche didn't bother her one bit.

"Well…?" Edwina raised her eyebrow.

Right. Well, no dancing around it. "It's, um… It's Anthony Bridgerton."

Kate desperately hoped the expressions she was confronted with were caused simply by surprise, and not disappointment. Or suspicion. The latter thought made Kate wince.

"It's not… Nothing happened before Tom and I, um–And he wasn't the reason." Kate scrambled to find the right words to say. She didn't owe anyone an explanation and she certainly wasn't sorry for being with Anthony, but this was her family and–

Kate was too caught up in her complicated web of thoughts to notice her mother had gotten up and walked around the table to her. Mary had put one hand over Kate's. Edwina was shaking her head and beaming, unspent tears in her eyes.

"Kathani… Don't mind it." Kaveri wrapped her arms around her daughter. "You don't have to explain. We can't pick and choose who presents themselves to us in life or when it happens. We can't pick and choose our feelings, either. If you are worried that we don't know how much you love Tom, or that we won't welcome Anthony with open arms, or, goodness, that we think you did anything wrong, give us more credit, eh?"

Kate laughed a little as a couple of tears fell. "It's just, ugh, the timing is awful, isn't it? And the way we met…"

"Dearest, are you happy?" Mary asked as she patted Kate's hand.

"Yes. I think… Um, it's only been a couple of weeks, but I think this could be… I don't know. He's amazing. And he's wonderful to me. He's quite intense, it's…” Kate shrugged. It was simple, really. “I like it. I like him."

"Doesn't hurt that you'd be hard pressed to find someone as fit as he is, isn't that right, Mary? We've been looking!"

"Kaveri, this is supposed to be a nice moment," Edwina admonished.

"And Kate's boyfriend being an Adonis isn't nice? Are all eight of them such beautiful creatures? What about their mother? Mary couldn't find photos of all of them."

Kate's eyes narrowed as they slid over to Mary. "What does Amma mean, Mum?"

Kaveri clicked her tongue. "Mary may have done some Googling after we met your Mr. Bridgerton."

"Mum!" Kate and Edwina cried in unison.

Mary blushed. "I was simply…curious."

—

Kate was sitting up against the headboard in Anthony's bed. She stared at the now months old message to Tom that had gone unanswered.

If he never contacts me again, fine. I mean, it's not fine, but I can't do anything about it. I should still reach out today.

Hi. I hope with all of my heart you are doing well. I know I have no right to, but I miss you. I hope you had a lovely birthday today. You deserve the world, Tom. I love you.

"What's wrong?"

Kate looked up just as she was feeling tears pool in her eyes. Shit. Anthony was standing in the doorway, wearing a look of grave concern.

"Nothing." Kate turned away from him to put her phone on the nightstand and took the opportunity to wipe her eyes while she was facing in the other direction. She felt the mattress dip and turned back to see Anthony sitting on the bed, an arm outstretched, grasping her ankle. He rubbed it with his thumb and looked at Kate sternly.

"We don't lie to each other, Kate. What is it?"

Kate said nothing, just tied her hair up into a messy bun for the night. Buying time was pointless, though. Anthony was staring at her and she knew he wouldn't let this go.

"It's Tom's birthday."

Kate watched Anthony's entire countenance change instantly, like a switch had been flipped. It was the first direct mention of Tom since she and Anthony had decided to be together.

Anthony's grip on Kate's ankle tightened and his jaw clenched.

"OK," he said in a measured tone. "Why are you crying?"

Kate laughed mirthlessly and looked to the ceiling, shaking her head. "I don't know, Anthony. Maybe because my best friend hasn't spoken to me in months, and he probably never will again, and this was his first birthday since we were kids that we didn't spend together. Just a fucking guess."

Kate surprised herself with how easily she snapped. She looked at Anthony and was frustrated by his completely unreadable expression. He let go of her ankle and turned to sit away from her on the bed.

"I'm sorry you're going through this. And I'm sorry I haven't been more sensitive about it." Anthony was talking down at the floor, seemingly struggling to put the right words together.

Kate reached over to run her hand down his back when Anthony suddenly turned back around to look at her.

"You said your family knows about me? About us?"

What the fuck? "Of course, I told them last week."

"When can I meet them again? Do they not want to?"

Kate's brow furrowed at the unexpected question. "They want to. They told me to bring you around."

Relief flashed across Anthony's face, but it disappeared as fast as it showed up. "Do you want me to see your family again? Properly, as your boyfriend?"

"I do. It's just… early days. I just like our bubble, you know what I mean?"

Anthony nodded half-heartedly. "How long do you usually wait to bring someone home?"

"I've only had one other boyfriend, Anthony, and he was already home." Kate regretted it immediately. Why the fuck did I say it that way? Anthony's face made it so much worse. He looked so hurt. Kate hadn't seen him this vulnerable yet. He looked away again. Kate scrambled up behind him and put her arms around his waist. He didn't stop her, but he didn't engage either.

"I shouldn't have said it like that."

"How should you have said it, then? I think that made your point rather perfectly."

"I… I–"

"Honestly, Kate, forget it. It's true, and it's not anything I didn't already know."

Kate wasn't sure how to respond. They were silent for a few minutes. She continued to hold him, her cheek to his back.

"Anthony. Tom is a part of my family. At least, I hope he still is."

Kate didn't think it was possible, but Anthony tensed even more. She saw he was gripping the edge of the bed frame.

"That's just the way it is, Anthony. You have to be OK with that. You…" Kate took a breath and whispered, "You said you'd keep it in check. That you wouldn't be jealous."

"No, Kate, I said I'd try. And I am. I'm shit at it at the moment but I'm…trying, baby. I'll try harder. I just need time. OK?"

Kate squeezed him. "OK. Thank you."

Anthony put one of his hands over where Kate's met on his stomach. Both of their bodies relaxed a bit.

"Is that what it is, then? Everything about me will be compared to him? Do I even stand a chance?"

Kate tsked. "Oh, Anthony, that's not it, no. Come here, please." Kate backed up on the bed and tugged on one of Anthony's arms, encouraging him to turn around. She sat up on her knees and cradled his face in her hands as she looked down at him. She leaned in to kiss him, but Anthony softly shook his head and sighed.

"I don't want to be a secret, Kate. I want everyone to know you're mine and I'm yours. I'm proud you chose me, baby. Whatever I did that made you decide I was worth a shot, it's the best thing I've ever done."

Anthony pulled Kate's hands away from his face so he could hold them in his own.

"I want to meet your family as your boyfriend, not the man who's making your dress for a wedding to another fucking guy. We need a do over."

Kate nodded and brought her lips to Anthony’s. This time, he didn't stop her.

"OK. I'll talk to my mums and we'll plan something. Soon. I promise."

"Good."

"I'm proud, too, for the record. That you chose me."

—

Anthony approached Kate's classroom quietly. He peered into the room, watching her as she put easels and cups of brushes away, swaying to the neo soul that was playing from her computer speakers. She wore her hair up in a high ponytail. Her flowy dress was a brilliant cobalt blue underneath her well used black apron.

Anthony was content to simply watch Kate in her element, but he gave himself away when she popped a crisp into her mouth and made a face he'd started to associate with Kate being on the precipice of an orgasm. He laughed before he could stop himself. Kate looked over to where he stood in her doorway.

"Anthony? What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to deliver these." He pulled the bouquet of orange tulips he'd been holding from behind his back as he walked towards her.

"Oh, these are beautiful."

Anthony marvelled at Kate as she marvelled at the flowers. He took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry."

Kate looked up at him with a slight pout. "For what?"

"Last night. I was being selfish. I don't want to fight."

"Thank you, but… We aren't fighting."

"What?"

"We talked it through, Anthony. We aren't fighting."

"Oh." Anthony rubbed the back of his neck. "Huh."

Kate clicked her tongue as she gently put the flowers down on her desk. She placed her hands on Anthony's shoulders. “Isn't that a good thing? You seem disappointed."

"Oh, I'm not disappointed, per se…"

Kate squinted at him and pursed her lips. "But…?"

"I was just looking forward to the make up sex."

A laugh bubbled out of Kate as she said, "What?"

"Yeah, it was gonna be brilliant."

"If you thought we were still fighting, then what was this morning?"

"Fighting sex. Was that not obvious?"

Kate giggled before stumbling a bit in her search for a response. Her hands moved down to his chest. "Well, you were quite demanding and, um, fervent, but you're always kind of… full-on."

"Right." Anthony nodded, resigned.

"It's one of my favourite things about you, honestly," Kate earnestly reassured him. "And I just figured you were in such a hurry because we both had to get to work–"

"Hurry? Did you not…? I’m certain you–?" Anthony sputtered, offended at the implication.

Kate patted his cheek and laughed as she stepped back to take off her apron. Anthony rushed to get behind her.

"Allow me," he whispered, unnecessarily close to her ear. Undressing Kate had quickly become one of Anthony's favourite things, even when the goal wasn't nudity. He was taking a ridiculously long time to remove the simple garment, letting his hands wander, until Kate stilled them.

"Anthony," she warned. "I work here. With children."

"School day's long over, no? And are you using your teacher voice on me? Because I think it's having the opposite effect than what you're intending." He attempted to pull Kate backwards toward him, but she stepped out of the embrace.

"Colleagues, Anthony." She gestured towards her open door. "If you want your 'make up sex,' it's not going to happen here. Take me home."

"I thought I was the demanding one?"

"Oh, right." Kate walked up to Anthony, leaning into him until their lips were almost touching. "Maybe I need a reminder, hm? And perhaps a reprimand for forgetting?" She raised an eyebrow at him before grabbing her bag and leading him by the hand out of her classroom.

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lilikags · 3 years

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ೃ‧₊› a b o u t t h i s p o s t° ➮ Pairing: Miya Atsumu x reader ➮ Oneshot ➮ Tags: fluff ➮ Word Count: 2182

A/N: This is for @serowotonin! [for Luna’s Valentines Day collab] Ik I said I was doing Atsumu bc “I was bored” but I always say “imagine being bored” and truly, I haven’t been bored for so long. I forgot that this was for the collab for a fat moment then when you saw the preview I was like, “Wait- no- it’s a surprise.”

Premise: You and Atsumu are cleaning out the apartment, when you find a few letters you thought you would never see again…

“Oi, (y/n), look at what I found,” you heard Atsumu say, leaning over the contents of a drawer he had been sifting through.

“What?” you walked over to see what he had found. The two of you were cleaning out the apartment, as you were going to be moving out soon. Atsumu had a habit of keeping things that connected him to an important memory of his, unless he wanted to forget it- and this was one of them. You didn’t know he kept them- actually, it did make sense of him to, but you had simply forgotten about it and you somehow expected the same for him. You looked down to see what he had in his hands, and your face literally went emotionless as you saw the letter in his hands.

You really didn’t mind the letters, for the most part. Actually, they held dear to you. However, that first one… you were grateful for it, but you also remembered just how bad you wanted to buy a grave space and bury it for eternity back then...

Miya Atsumu.

This was a dare. This is a love letter. For Valentines. Happy valentines day. If you have extra chocolate, send me some.

Sincerest thanks, (y/n).

Atsumu usually threw away the letters he received every Valentines. It wasn’t that he was trying to be rude; it was just that there were too many letters for him to read (and reply to), so he usually just threw them out. Osamu often teased him for this; he boasted that he at least read his letters.

“Oi, ‘Samu, look at this one,” Atsumu called out to his brother.

“What?” Osamu looked at him, with a face of disbelief. “Yer actually lookin’ at them?”

“Nah, not really, but this one’s hilarious,” Atsumu laughed.

“Okay, not funny, keep yer lame humor to yourself.”

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

“(y/n), truth or dare,” (b/f/n) asked.

You smiled, “Dare.”

“Hmmm… alright, send a love letter to Miya Atsumu- it has to be at least one line long.”

“I’m- okay then.”

You brought out a piece of paper, wrote the first things that came to mind, and once you reached one line, you stopped. You folded the paper and grabbed whatever envelope you could find and sealed it with tape. The dare required actually giving the letter, much to your dismay, but it wasn’t like you could back down from a dare. After all, it was (b/f/n), and the nonstop teasing would definitely occur if you failed to complete the dare.

Dearest (y/n),

I did in fact receive your rather interesting letter, and I have decided to bring you some chocolate as you wished. I wish you, as well, a very happy valentine’s day this year.

Most sincerely, Atsumu.

Atsumu was intrigued enough to write a reply; in fact, he decided to write in the most formal way possible. He knew from the letter that you were either a tsundere or someone who was actually dared to do so, and decided that it would be fun entertainment for the both of you.

When you received the letter, you were surprised to see a reply. It was known he didn’t send out replies, yet you had received one. As you read it, you felt a need to reply; you’d simply feel bad if you didn’t. However, what was there to talk about? How the chocolates were good? He had stuck it on your first period desk, out in the open. And you also sincerely wondered what was with the overly formal tone. You do remember writing the most shitty letter you’ve ever written to him, and that volleyball-obsessed dude just writes something formal to you? Baffles the mind.

Well, then, if he was going to reply, you would too.

Miya Atsumu,

Thanks for the chocolate- your fans make pretty good chocolate, I have to say. Bet I could make better chocolate than ya, ‘cause all ya focus on is just volleyball. Anyways, what was with the overly formal tone- ya like me or somethin’? Would be funny if ya did and I turned ya down. XD

(y/n)

You never really thought of Miya Atsumu, but this really sparked your interest. It was amusing, his reactions. It was definitely something you didn’t expect- you actually didn’t expect a reply at all. The reply you received was definitely out of the ordinary as well, one you never thought a hotshot volleyball player would write. It seemed he was interested in you in some ways- and you as well.

(y/n),

Pfffft, you think I might like ya? I just thought yer letter was interestin’, that’s all. Ya really think I can’t make chocolate? Bet I could make better chocolate than ya, I’ll show you. I make you chocolate myself and we’ll see how it tastes. Just you watch, I’ll make ya say I make the best chocolate ever!

Atsumu.

You saw that in your shoe locker the next morning- and everyone saw it. You were beginning to regret actually replying to him, but there was no backing out now. (b/f/n) really hit the goal here, for her. People were probably talking about it. It’s always some event that involves romance that catches everyone’s eye. And since it was just after valentine’s, everyone would automatically assume it was a love letter. In reality, it was simply a little bit of playful banter.

You wondered if people actually knew who it was. You hoped not; it would gather way too much attention for your liking. You’d have an entire fanclub after you, and it was definitely (b/f/n)’s fault that you got into this entire mess. You had absolutely no idea if anyone saw him slip that into your shoe locker, since it had probably been there for a good hour or so before you and most of the other students got there. In any case, there was nothing you could do about people knowing things they already know, so you headed onto class. It was exam week, and you sighed; it would be a long day.

When you arrived at homeroom, you were not-so-pleasantly surprised with what you found at your desk. You just wanted a quiet day; go to school, take the tests, and get out so you could relax at home. But no, you just had to see this and you knew there was a thing called rumors you had to deal with. Well, you could just be like “whatever” and not care, but you definitely knew who’d be after you, for real. Atsumu’s fanbase was quite scary, and definitely large- a group of people one would regret messing with.

“Ugh- what am I going to do with this chocolate now, he gave me a lot yesterday…”

“(y/n)! Oiiii, you got chocolate?! From who from who-”

“(b/f/n), if you say a word, you are going to be dead to me.”

“...” she looked away, but then turned to you again and whispered in your ear. “So, Miya Atsumu, who has a fanbase, likes you.”

“I’m- no-”

“But what I’m seeing says otherwise?”

“Ugh, you’re coming to my house and you are going to pay for that dare.”

“Oh ho ho, seems like I started something…” “Bet you did.”

Pisshead Atsumu

LMAO bet ya didn’t make the chocolate, yer terrible at lying <///3 seen this chocolate before. And like wtf you put a box of chocolate on my desk with YOUR NAME on it. Ya know that people will do a thing called assuming things, right? Smh, think before you act. Anyways, I’m counting on ya to fix up this mess.

(y/n)

When you finished class, the first thing you did was write the note. You were absolutely paranoid with this mess, and you were going to have Atsumu fix it. Yes, you did technically initiate contact first, but that was (b/f/n)’s fault and this could’ve avoided this if he hadn’t pulled off a whole stunt.

It was already around 6 when he saw the note. A small smirk filled his expression, he was so sure that he would be able to get a good reaction out of (y/n). It was written on scrap paper, the back of a phys. ed worksheet. You wrote it in a rush, very obviously. That wasn’t really what caught his attention though; he was puzzled as to how he would fix this. Tell his fans to fuck off? Osamu would tease him for eternity.

“Oi, what’cha starin’ at?” he heard Osamu nag. “Mom’s waitin’ for us for dinner.”

“Hey, ‘Samu… ya know how to fix this?”

“... ARE YOU AN IDIOT- YOU ARE AN IDIOT.”

“I AM NOT! YOU ARE THE IDIOT HERE!”

“SAYS THE ONE WHO GOT INTO A MESS LIKE THIS!”

“Oi, ya shouldn’t be fightin’ at this hour,” the two heard Kita say, as he gave them a certain look. “... ‘m sorry…” the twins apologized.

Even after a fulfilling dinner made by their mother and a nice, hot shower, Atsumu still couldn’t think of a solution. Osamu almost snitched on him, but he decided that there was enough on their mom’s plate of problems at the moment.

“What if ya said you were dating?” Osamu offered.

“HAH?! ARE YA INSANE?!” Atsumu yelled at him.

“That would explain what happened at valentine’s.”

“But there’s nothin’ between us-”

“Yer fanclub wouldn’t really believe anythin’ else.”

“Yeah…”

(y/n),

Can we meet when practice ends at 6 on Thursday?

M. Atsumu.

“... I’m- Is he just going to apologize then run away? Tch.” you sighed. You had the idea that Miya Atsumu was overconfident and carefree, but not to this extent. The least he could do was fix this- he had power over his fandom and what people said about him, unlike you. You had to go, it wasn’t like you really had much of a choice if you wanted to talk it out and fix it.

“Hey, (y/n) are you and Atsumu dating?” one of your classmates asked, and a bunch of others hovered around the table, waiting to hear a response. (b/f/n) had told you rumors had spread around the entire school; you figured that would’ve happened. Any topic related to the twins spread like wildfire, especially the blonde-haired one.

“... Can you not try to pry into my private life?” you replied, which you instantly realized was exactly a wrong answer to give. This implied that you were in fact dating Atsumu secretly, and you just made your life 10x worse. You figured you should just tell everyone what had happened, then the blame would be on (b/f/n)- it should preferably be placed on Atsumu, since he started it, really.

When you met him at 6pm, you expected no contribution from him. Instead, you were met with a solid plan for something you weren’t really happy about, but it seemed the easiest to convince the public of a story they put out.

“(y/n)... let’s tell them that we’re dating.”

“Hmm… well, they already think that…”

“I’m sorry… I wasn’t thinking…” “It’s fine. All we can do is move forward, I guess.”

“Yeah… ‘Samu gave me this solution; it’s all I have, I’m sorry if it’s-”

“It’s fine. Let’s go through with it. Just protect me from the crazy fangirls; that’s all I want.”

“Ya.”

“And we’ll need to put together a coherent story; what’s yer number?”

“Ahaha, seriously, maybe (b/f/n)’s a prophet. She told me that she was aiming for somethin’ to happen between us,” you commented, remembering what happened years and years ago.

“Ya were just so unnecessarily worried about the fangirls,” Atsumu mentioned.

“Oi! Yer fangirls were hella scary back then…”

That night, you stayed up coming up with a story, which ended with the two of you breaking up so that you could go on your separate ways again. However, the story didn’t last too long, as (b/f/n)’s parent’s investigations went a little too far and spread the truth a little too much. (b/f/n) is one thing, but you had almost forgotten her parents were another, seriously. They’d been a little busy over the last few years, thus the lack of investigations of local drama, but they had been doing so for decades, what could you expect from them?

Nothing was Atsumu’s fault to the fanclub, unless he seriously convinced them that it was. You were guilty until proven innocent. Unbeknownst to you until after, he gave them a whole (to be honest, not-so-great) speech on how he kind of went too far with the joke, but also placed the blame on everyone else for assuming things. People were absolutely ridiculous; their ideas and their insane imagination should learn that the left side of the brain exists too.

“Funny how we met again after college, after all that time.”

“Ya… a real wonder”

Another A/N: OMG THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING FOR ‘TSUMU FORGIVE ME IF I WROTE HIM LIKE, WRONG IN THIS AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

『••✎••』 Extra Info * ˚ ✦ ⇢ If you would like to read some of my other works, find them here! * ˚ ✦ ⇢ Taglist: @serowotonin @luna-la-ley // send me an ask if you would like to be added!

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu oneshots #haikyuu imagines #miya atsumu #atsumu x you #atsumu imagines #atsumu x reader #atsumu x y/n #atsumu fluff #atsumu oneshot #atsumu fic #hq x reader #hq imagines #hq x you #hq love letters

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ragrottend0ll · 3 years

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School crush (Vinira fic)

(English is not my first language so I apologized if something doesn’t make sense. I tried not to but mistakes happend; me, for example)

Chapter two:

It was lunch time at Hexside. All, or at least a good part of the students were having fun talking with their firends and eating their meals.

Emira was doing none of it.

Sitting in the cafetria’s table with her brother and a few other kids that she was forced to hang around with, Emira was in silence just looking at nothing.

‘‘Hey, Em, you good?’‘ Edric asked.

‘‘Perfectly.’‘

‘‘Well, you don’t look perfectly’‘. Odolette said. If Emira had to be honest with herself, she would said that Odolette was her very best friend. Not that she will ever say it aloud.

And actually, all Emira’s forced friends weren’t all bad. If you ignore Mungo, the rest were pretty good.

‘‘So, are you gonna tell us what’s wrong?’‘ Clovis asked with a lot of pudin everywhere but his mouth.

‘‘No and clean yourself’‘. Emira answered. Then, she started to look away at the same direction.

Sorcha, who was at Clovis’ left, took a napkin and cleaned his face.

Emira was looking at the double-track kid’s table with her peripheral sight. Emira wasn’t dumb. As much as she would like to see Viney laughing at something her friends said, she couldn’t. In one hand someone could notice, in the other hand that someone could be her friends, and in the third hand (the worst one) Viney could notice.

‘‘Oh!’’ Clovis exclaimed ‘‘I see what’s happening now’‘

‘‘What?’‘ Odolette asked after a few seconds of silence.

‘‘Is my imagination or our dearest Emira is looking intensely at that up-grade hot boy over there?’’ Clovis asked.

‘‘What?’‘ the whole table, Emira included, asked.

Odolette look at the direction Emira’s eyes were supposedly looking at, Emira did too, just to find a good-looking schoolmate that Emira haven’t met yet, his face was familiar, tho. Probably she have seen him around the school in all these years.

Yes, he was handsome, Emira and everyone with one eye on their face could tell, but there was one little problem. The guy was a he. And she was a lesbian.

‘‘OH TITAN!’‘ Odolette began ‘‘YOU LIKE-’‘

‘‘Shut. Up.’‘ Emira interrupted by putting her hand in Odolette’s mouth to stoped her before someone could hear. ‘’And before anyone say anything, no, I don’t like him.’’

‘‘So, why were you starring with those heart-shaped eyes?’‘ Sorcha asked with exxageration in her voice.

‘‘I didn’t made heart-shaped eyes.’‘

‘‘Sure you didn’t’‘ Clovis said, sarchastically.

‘‘I’m serious. I don’t know what you are talking about.’‘

‘‘Oh, Em! Having a crush isn’t bad.’‘ Odolette began ‘‘Honestly, I don’t know him, but I could sit with them and ask his name or even settle a date this week.’‘

‘‘But what if he says no?’‘Sorcha asked, ignoring completely the annoying and dumbfounded face Emira had.

‘‘As if someone would say no to a Blight.’‘ Clovis answered the question. ‘‘So anyway, Edric,’’ he change the subject ‘‘as Emira is obviously lying,’’

‘‘No, I’m not!’‘ Emira yelled.

‘‘what do you think? Ready to become a protective jelaous older brother?’’

‘‘Nah, Em can do whatever she pleases to. In first place she’ll have to actually talk to-’‘

‘‘Wait! Emira is actually in love?!’’ Sorcha exclaimed. The three friend were just joking and teasing, but now that Edric have sincerely accepted that Emira in fact was crushing that boy, things wouldn’t stop soon.

‘‘Sorry.’’ Edric whisper to his sister once Em started to look at him angry.

Emira sighted. She wasn’t mad at Edric but she sure was mad at Sorcha, Clovis and Odolette.

‘‘Well’‘ Emira thought ‘‘At least Mungo is not here.’‘

And, as the universe and the Titan loves her so much, Mungo appear just behind her and Edric.

‘‘What are we talking about?’‘

The atmosphere changed. No one liked Mungo.

He was part of a wealthy family, as the rest of the twins’ group of friends, but with the sly diference that he did really believed all the bullshit his parents talked about.

Sure, they were all little rich babies, but that didn’t mean that they shared all their belives with their parents. Except Mungo, of course.

And besides that, he is jus simply... Annoying. Always trying to appear the greatest among the greats, when he was defenitely not.

All in the group officially stoped liking him when they were nine years old and had told all their parents that they stealed some some sweet fruits from the kitchen in one of the thousand parties they were all together.

Reth was simply a boot-licker.

That’s not bad, the own Emira has to be one when her mother is involved. It’s a technique to survive, but she learned when and to who be one. And to always back-up your friends.

Mungo prefers praise above anything.

That’s why not even them, who are suppose to be his friends, like him.

‘’Nothing at all’’ Edric aswered.

When Mungo appear all their conversations had to change, at least when it were problematic.

Wich was most of the time.

Before Mungo could ask again Odolette asked: ‘‘What where you doing?.’’ And Mungo didn’t hesitated before start talking about how he is so great that his healing teacher asked him help with something Emira didn’t care to listen.

‘‘So, due to those important and urgent business meetings, my parents will not be able to come to the open doors day.’’ Emira catch Mungo said after a few minutes of dozed out.

‘‘What open doors day?’’ Edric asked while chewing the last slice of his lunch.

‘‘Principal Bump haven’t give the announcement in the illusion track?’’ Sorcha asked.

Em and Ed axchanged looks.

They both skipped those first classes.

‘‘No, he hasn’t.’’ they said at the same time. Normally they wouldn’t care to their friends to know that, but Mungo was there too. And that brat could make someway to let their parents know.

‘‘No matter how many times they’ve done that, it still gives me chills’’ Clovis said reffering to the perfect sync the Blight twins had.

‘‘Agree’’ Sorcha and Odolette said. Mungo didn’t, but it was obvious that everyone freaks out when they do things like that, especially with gestures.

‘‘So, back to the topic,’’ Em interrupted “What was that opend doors thing again?”

“Well, principal Bump announced that, to show some parents improvment, instalations, and much more shit, basically is inviting the tutors to come the next week friday and spend a day here.” Sorcha explained. “He’s even gonna let us go earlier and the ones that can’t get their parents to come, must deliver a letter sign by your tutor and can take the day free.”

“So, besides from Mungo, does anyone’s parents love you enough to spend the day here?” Clovis asked. Before Mungo could object something, Luz, The Human, came in the cafeteria running and screaming while a giant, wild and mounstrious weird-looking abomination was chasing after her.

And just a few seconds later, Luz’s friends came in too. Willow, Amity and the little ilussion’s track boy that Emira never learned his name before.

After a little of battle, screams and some help from a pair of other students, they could stoped the monster in a few minutes.

When his children asked him if he could come to the open doors day, he couldn’t say no.

He was tempted. But he didn’t.

The mountain of paperwork will have to wait.

The four Blights get in the chariot and soon, they were flying their way to school. Normally they would go walking, but Alador preffered to not.

“Dad” Amity called “, before you get in the school there are a couple of things you should know”.

“Oh, I almost forgot, thanks, Mittens.” Edric said. Amity didn’t even scolded him because of the nickname. She give up some time ago.

“What kind of things?”

“Well...”Amity began.

“Wait, first of all you have to promised us that nothing will reach mom’s ears.”

“Or the emperors ears.” Completed Emira. Alador nodded in agreement, but still aware.

“Does the emperor even have ears?” Edric asked.

“Mmmh... No idea...”

“Guys!” Amity called. “Focus.”

“The thing is,” Amity tried to explain again. It was more difficult that it seemed to “There might be a couple of things that... well...”

“Are illegal” Edric said.

“Edric!” both sisters yelled.

“It’s the truth!”

“But there are ways to say the things!”

“So, Hexside really has illegal things?” Alador asked. He was surprised but his face was looking as calm as always.

For some reason that didn’t surprised him as much as he suspect it would.

“Yeah... So, first thing: There’s a human studying there.”

Ok, Alador did not see that coming.

“That human’s mentor is The Owl Lady.”

Oh, great.

“And the school also have double-track students.”

“Let me guess”. Alador sight. “The human?”

Edric snorted. “Pfft! Of course not, dad!”

“The human is the only all-tracks kid” Emira explained rapidly. “The double-track students are witches. And one of those is my crush”.

Titan, have mercy of them.

Alador Blight have been walking with his children for all around the school. The plan was that the first hours he would spend it with Amity.

Those were pleasant. Alador was too in the abomination track when he was a schooler.

Ah, the good old days when the only things that matter were the grades. He did enjoyed his childhood and his teenage.

Alador didn’t had a lot of friends, but sure he had good ones. His family wasn’t rich or famous, but he lived well and happy with the few luxuries he could have.

In his last school year he formally started a relationship with Odalia and married some years after. The twins born and, in two more years, his little Amity did too.

Alador was in his way to meet Edric and Emira. Amity kinda ditched him when this girl appear. For the colorful uniform Alador guessed that she was the all-track, human, the owl lady’s apprentice. So Alador didn’t said anything and just let Amity enjoy herself.

In his way to the illusion track, Alador saw Bump with the owl lady. The woman was laughing while Bump had a tired expression in his face.

“Dad, I thought you would be spending time with Amity” Edric said when they meet on the halls.

“Well, she preferred to spend time with her friends”.

“Amity has friends?” Emira joked.

“Don’t bother your sister”. Alador said, but before one of the twins could say anything a teacher interrumpted:

“Mr. Blight, what an honor! Hope you are enjoying yourself”.

“I am, is always a delight to spend time with my children”. Alador turn to look Edric and Emira, that where behind him.

“Ed, Em, good morning”. The teacher saluted, with a big, hypocrit smile on his face. “I don’t think I saw you in class the last wenesday”.

‘damm gossipy teacher’. Both twins thought.

Their history teacher was mad with them. He would always give them extra homeworks and tried to put a lot of tricks in their quizzes just to make them fail. They hated to fail.

Failure was never an option.

So, they started to have a war with him.

Who would get mad or insane first?

Most of time, the teacher did.

In this war everything was posible. One time, Edric and Emira even went to his house, in the middle of the night, to set their biggest prank ever. La créme de la créme.

Let’s just say that, their dear proffesor didn’t went to school for two weeks.

And when he returned, his skin was covered by rash. And his voice was more pitched than a little three year old girl. Oh! And he stinked like rotten meat, too!

The twins didn’t remembered why this whole little war began. The only thing they knew was that no one, besides the them, could knew. The three woud get in trouble, with either principal Bump and Odalia Blight. None wanted that.

Alador raised an eyebrow, curious.

“Of couse we where there, tacher, we woud never do something as skip classes”. Edric began.

Alador raised more his eyebrow. Of course his twins ould skip classes. They’ve been grounded too many times for it.

“Yeah, I mean, we are Blights, any behavior below perfection just doesn't exist”. Emira put emphasis in the Blight part. A casual reminder os status, as her mother says.

“Oh, yes. I think I forgot. So, how’s your proyect going?”

“Dad, I wanna show you something”. Emira called, while grapping her hand in her father’s arm and tooked him far away from the teacher while Edric keep distracting him.

“Care to explain?” Alador asked as Emira pulled him away from that hall.

“Nah, I’m fine”.

Father and daughter walked some more steps until Emira abruptely stoped and stared there for a few seconds while her face turned a little red.

“Is something wrong?” Alador asked. The hallway didn’t seem to have anything out of normal. Just some teachers, students and, because of the special ocassion, some parents, too.

“Oh, no no. Just, let’s get somewhere else and-”

“Hey, Em!” A voice called.

And with that, Emira’s face got even redder.

Not as much as Amity’s angry face, but sure it was something.

“Ahahha, hiii Viney” Emira said, weirdly, as she walk up the hall to get close to the girl.

Alador, watching from the distance, scanned the girl.

Brown hair, double colored uniform and a familiar green eyes. She was way shorter than Emira (and probably the rest of her classmates), but seemed stronger.

“I thought you won’t be comming today”. The Viney girl said.

“Uhm, yeah, my, uh, dad is here... today”. And then Emira pointed in the direction Alador was.

“Should I go and say hi?” Viney asked Emira.

“No, you shouldn’t!”

Viney tilted her head.

Alador chuckled a little. He knew very well how the blush mess™ works. Alador thought that perhaps he should apologize to his daughter for inheriting that trait.

“I- I mean, sure you could but I don’t see why would you liked to do something like, meet my dad, pfft”. Emira was nervous, ok?

Alador from the other side of the hall, listening the best he could to the conversation and trying his best to not laught, waved a little his hand to Viney, wich she responded.

“Anyway,” Em tried to change the subject. “Did your dad is here or...?”

“Yeah, actually, and if none of my siblings took him away, he should be... there!”. Viney pointed to a man talking to the healing track teacher. He was back on his back, so Emira couldn’t see his face but sure Viney’s dad was tall and buff and seemed like Viney inherited her brown hair from her dad, but, as Emira noted, her skin color should be from her mother’s side. Viney’s dad skin was tanned.

“Miss Tamer have done an excellent work. I’m glad she was able to come back to classes”. The teacher congratulated, as Emira could hear.

‘Of course Viney did excellent’, Emira thought. ‘She’s top student in both beast-keeping and healing. A complete cute nerd’.

“Well, thank you miss Alawdi”. Viney’s dad said. His voice was deep but friendly and he was notably happy about the teacher's comment.

“Oh no, you should thank Viney. She’s the one who put the dedication. And as much as I would like to keep talking about such a great student, I have to give more feedbacks to some parents. Good morning, Mr. Tamer”. Alador couldn’t stop himself from remembering the name Tamer. He had known someone with that same surname.

And with that the teacher moved to talk to another of her students’ parents. It seemed more like scolding than feedbacking.

Viney’s dad turned around and looked for his daugher, that was still by Emira’s side.

“Dada,” Viney called her dad while he was walking to them. “She’s Emira, the friend I talked you about”.

‘She told her dad about me!’ Emira thought ignoring completely the friend word.

“H-hello mister, uhm, mister Tamer, sir” Emira talked first.

‘I really need to apologized for the blush mess thing’ Alador thought watching all the scene from the distance. Because of the perspective he couldn’t see neither of the Tamer’s faces, but Emira’s one was straight on his view.

Alador noted that Emira’s left hand was hide on her back and was pulling her braid a little.

That was for sure a little tick that Odalia had too. Except that his wife pulled her dress skirt or shirt. Not her hair.

“... Yes, my dad’s over there”. Alador heard Emira said. He dozed out a little while remembering where his old locker was.

He looked to the only group of people, at this point, and he-

OH TITAN NO!

This isn’t happening.

What were the probabilities? One in a million?

But of couse he had to have the one...

Because, Titan, Gradyel Fortis was, after all this years, in front of him.

His last named changed, probably because, as he was seeing, Gradyel had a daugher, wich means that he is married. But, Alador could never mistake him, because Gradyel Fortis was his very best friend more than a decade ago.

Suddenly the shortest girl’s green eyes made a lot of sense. ‘It is her mother’s same green eyes’ Alador thought.

“Alador? Is that you?” Gradyel called.

“You know eachother?” Viney asked her dad. with a vissibly confused Emira beside her.

Alador walked to the group, feeling how his cheeks burned, just a little, nothing too obvious.

“That if we know eachother? We used to be best friends, and neighbors”. Gradyel explained to the girls.

“Really?” This time Emira asked to her dad. Her curiosity overlapping her nervousness.

“Yes, we used to hang out a few years ago”. Alador finally said.

“Few years? You mean few decades” Gradyel was laughing at this point and give Alador a pat on his back. Gradyel didn’t measure his strength, because of that Alador to choked a little.

He didn’t mind, after all, Gradyel Fortis never learned how to control his strenght, really.

He changed a lot, just like Alador did. But his essence was still the same.

The same Gradyel Fortis that he spended chatting in classes with.

The same Gradyel Fortis that he helped to cheat on a test.

The same Gradyel Fortis that tried to bake a cake for his birthday (and failed).

The same Gradyel Fortis that he helped to confess the girl he liked.

The same Gradyel Fortis that was Alador’s crush for almost four years.

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fangirlyah · 4 years

Text

✦ a friendship by letters - Edmund Pevensie x Reader

summary: a friendship formed in childhood, a friendship that survived the riskiest adventures ... what will happen when they separate and their only contact is letters? word counter: 2,674

warnings: abandoned parents

according to the books the ages of the characters should be different, but in this one-shot their ages will be those agreed by wikipedia reasoning with the actors’ age in the year of recording of the second film (it is an approximation):

Peter - 20

Susan - 17

Edmund - 15/16

Lucy - 12

Prince Caspian - 26

digory kirke had raised you after being abandoned by your family. when world war II came to england, food was scarce. you were barely three when your parents took you to have a tea afternoon with your favorite uncle, but they never came back to pick you up. at first you didn’t understand, why had they abandoned you? people should not leave the people they love, that's what your fairytales said; but this wasn't a story, it was reality.

digory took care to keep you safe and with everything you needed. the years went by and your parents had become a vague memory, you no longer had remorse for them; a three-year-old girl had seemed a nuisance to them at the time.

when you turned eight, you got the first letter from them; they had started a new family, they had a pair of twins with blue heavenly eyes, they looked a lot like you. your little person wondered if they would see the resemblance and leave them too. despite the confusing news, that birthday was the best of your entire childhood, because an even better news had arrived. after all these years, you’d have some kids to be with. kirke had taken care of your education so you’d never had another friend than your uncle and the people who worked for him. the day the pevensies arrived was cloudy, a typical english day, with a small drizzle that would get wet from time to time.

they were well-dressed and with dubious faces, they were more confused to see a sweet girl waiting for them at the door of the cottage.

"hi, it’s nice to meet you!" you shook hands with them politely, despite your enthusiasm.

"we didn’t know there would be more children" one of the children, with freckles on his pale cheeks, looked at you from top to bottom, it didn’t seem much older than you but he seemed to judge you with just a few words.

"don’t be rude, edmund!" the other boy gently pushed his head, he looked like the oldest of them all.

the four of them were very nice, some more than others but they treated you well. you used to play in the big courtyards and take classes together. you had discovered each other’s personality shortly after your arrival; you were very observant. peter was the loudest talker, if it was a sports team he’d be the leader. but susan was not left behind, she was very smart and knew a lot about all the topics they talked about during meals. edmund didn’t talk much but he wasn’t quiet, of the four he was the most serious and acid but he wasn’t a bad kid. and finally lucy, she was a walking ray of sunshine, with that no further description was needed.

"why can’t we see the old man?" edmund was at your side as the two of you walked down the dirt road. the cook had ordered you to go in search of bread and milk.

"his name isn't old man, his name is digory kirke…” as they moved on and crossed people, edmund was surprised as every redneck seemed to know you.

"you said he raised you, how did he raise you if you never saw him?"

"yes I saw him, we spent all our time together...but now he’s busier than before"

"but...where are your parents?" edmund’s childish mind thought she was there for the same reason as them; perhaps, he wanted to think that her mother was a nurse and her father a soldier, that would be to have heroic parents. but your look got lost in the trees on your side as you didn’t answer, instead you said,

"race to the store!"

that was your first interaction. thanks to that race your friendship was forged, after two weeks of them living in your house.

your last interaction was the day they returned to finchley. the chaos continued, but was not enough to keep them away from home, so they had to leave. the four of them were on the cart thrown by a horse, ready to go to the train station; lucy greeted you, already sitting, fluttering her little hand. peter left you a kiss on the forehead and susan hugged you tight.

when edmund’s turn came, your eyes watered down, provoking ed to shed a tear. you had become best friends, everything that had happened in narnia had brought you together more than ever; you had grown up together, even though you then returned to your little child body.

"I packed you a book I found in the library, it’s about narnia," you whispered when you hugged him. "take good care of him"

"with my life" so you saw them leave, as they greeted you waving their arms as you did the same.

time went by and years flew away. years when the only contact between you and the pevensies, especially edmund, was letters. letters that came and went every week, so they grew together but apart.

when you turned 13, you started high school. your joy was so immense that the first thing you did was write to your great friend.

‘my dearest edmund

I have great news. this year I will start high school in a school. a real school! uncle took me yesterday to buy my supplies and uniform. is unreal!

how are you, lucy, peter and susan? I miss them too, I miss you and narnia. how's school? is it tiring to live there? I hope not because my school is a boarding school too. I hope to see you soon

y/n"

the letter arrived two days later in edmund’s school room. his heart exploded because of the great happiness it gave him, you would have other friends and you could live a normal teenage life. he immediately wrote you a letter expressing his joy.

my dear y / n,

I also miss you more than you imagine and reading you so happy about your new school makes me want to run to hug you. I know I can't, I imagine it and I enjoy it just the same.

we are all fine, school is always the same. boring. but in the boarding school, I know that you will have fun and will make many friends.

i care about you

yours, edmund.

when you started school, the sending of letters began to be less frequent. the correspondence between the secondary schools was slow, which made it difficult to communicate. the letters took weeks to arrive, between two and three. on a saturday afternoon, he got his first letter of yours after weeks.

‘dear ed,

the mail sucks! all the letters I was sending you didn’t reach your school, I know because they were all returned to my address. I’m tired of this, I want to see you and go to narnia again...

in other news, you remember I made two friends? well, they introduced me to roger. he’s very friendly and he always accompanies me to all the classes, but well...I’m happy to make friends.

In a few days it’s the christmas ball and I’d like us to go together...i mean, the five of us. I know it’s not possible, but it’s a nice idea.

tell me about yourself.

with love, y/n!’

edmund still did not know why but, after reading the letter, an anger invaded him, he even thought he would explode. who was roger? would you go to the ball with roger?

"I had it sorted" said peter, looking at him, while waiting for the train, edmund just rolled his eyes.

"since when do you get into fights, edmund?" lucy looked at him from across the bench. "since he received the letter from y/n the other day" said his bigger sister moving her eyebrows coquettishly.

"why don’t you shut up, susan?!"

"both of you shut up!" peter screamed when everything around him started to disappear.

out of nowhere, the four were inside a cave with access to the sea. an immense joy filled them, they were in narnia. at that time, while everyone was taking off their clothes, to dive into the transparent water, edmund just wanted to grab a paper and quill to tell you, but it was impossible. in fact, they were in a narnia 1300 years older. their kingdom had been invaded and the magic of it was dying faster and faster. edmund wanted you there, while he walked the meadows looking at the ruins of what was cair paravel. but you were in england.

"y/n are you ready for the ball tonight?" one of your friends was walking beside you on the streets of london. the teachers had let all the students go in search of their garments for the feast, the very day of the celebration.

"not really, I have never been to a party so I’m a little nervous"

"it’s easier than it looks" you were turning the corner when you thought you saw a shiny fur. "are you okay, y/n?” the girl next to you asked as she saw you looking for something with intensity. what you saw it looked like a lion, but it was impossible. lions in london? will be aslan?

"is that...I remembered that I must call my uncle to wish him a good christmas eve, yes that!... emm, you go ahead, I’ll go talk on the phone and catch you" so you retire at a fast pace, to see the lion enter a phone booth. of a push you entered the red booth, finding a small golden paper on the machine.

'You know what numbers to dial’

it would be lying to say you were confused, the number 338 appeared in your mind immediately; it was your room number inside of cair paravel. when your fingers moved through the numbers, the machine began to tremble slightly, making all your surroundings become blurry. in the blink of an eye, you were standing in a meadow full of daisies. you were alone but far away you could see what seemed like a how, a shelter.

without the need to ask anyone, you knew it. you were in Narnia, you felt it in your bones. It was different, but the aroma and familiarity did not go unnoticed.

the trees were not as you remembered them, they used to dance around you every time you made an appearance in the gardens but this time they stood still; they seemed asleep. your school uniform started to heat you up so as you moved along the green lawn you left your clothes in the way, until you were left with your blue skirt, which reached a little above the knee, your shoes and the white shirt. you felt at home, you had returned to your home; among your thoughts, the idea of the pevensie being there also reached your head and you wished that aslan would appear back to show you the way to them. but instead of aslan, a horse being ridden by a men appeared before you.

"I’m sorry, miss, but may I ask who you are?" a dark-haired boy got off his horse to stand in front of you, curiously. he had never seen you before, but he knew you weren’t a telmarine, or you would have bowed to him, and you weren’t a narnian because the sons of adam and eve who belonged to narnia, were the kings and queens and he already knew them.

"my name is y/n, gentleman...and you are?"

"prince caspian, future telmarine king" telmarine? it sounded familiar to your ear, perhaps you had read it in some book of prophecies in your stay in narnia years ago; but it had been so long that no memory came to your mind. "you’re a daughter of eve, right?"

"I don’t have horse legs so I’m not a centaur" you said in a comedy voice that wasn’t funny enough for the prince to smile, so you stopped your laugh and continued to say "yes, I’m a daughter of eve."

"come with me then" the situation that edmund had gone through came to your mind, you didn’t know whether to trust the boy who claimed to be future king. despite your doubts, you didn’t have the courage to ask where he would take you and you decided to trust him, asking aslan to give you back your fighting skills if necessary; it’s been a long time since you’ve practiced, sword fighting was not a common hobby in finchley.

you skillfully climbed, to caspian’s surprise, to the white horse where he had come to you. the said prince took the reins and began to ride. they went up a high meadow, from there you could see the transparent waters several meters down. if the situation had been different, you would have run down to the sand to enjoy the water, but the uncertainty of where you were going did not leave you. surprisingly, you arrived very quickly at the place you had seen before. now from close up you could see that it was, aslan’s how. caspian didn’t kidnap you, he was a good man. so, thanking him you got off your horse and looked around as the prince walked into the how. edmund was busy looking at a map, but someone’s footsteps from behind distracted him.

"yes you take your time, we don’t need you to make war plans" the sarcastic voice, that so characterized ed, echoed through the shelter as it reached the outside causing you to freeze. it was a voice you were unfamiliar with but you had heard it before. your mind traveled to the last time you spoke on a pay phone with your best friend and recognized the voice. it was edmund, but he had grown up. he had obviously grown up, like you had.

"I’m sorry, I found someone on the way..."

"with whom you could possibly have met in the middle of the wood-" edmund’s gaze moved towards the entrance of the place when he saw a delicate figure enter. those sweet traits that he remembered so much from his childhood were refined, elegant, but they kept that shred of innocence that he liked so much. that face that was so much expected to be found casually on the streets of london or finchley was in front of him, dressed in what looked like the remains of a school uniform and the astonished eyes absorbing all around her.

"y/n..." it was a whisper, but the echo of the how made it sound loud enough for you to hear.

so you looked up meeting the person who had occupied your head since you were eight. the boy you used to create scenarios with at night. the boy who was a little kid and now was a man in armor looking at you from the other side of the room. the boy you were afraid to see holding someone else’s hand. your mind failed to form a word because you were already running towards him, to wrap yourself in his body. his arms traveled to your waist swiftly as he lifted you from the ground and shoved his face up your neck, smelling your scent that he had so missed. one of your hands traveled to his hair caressing that darkness that you used to braid when you were just a kid.

"hello ed" you whispered giving yourself permission to shed a tear. edmund felt that drop of water fall on his shirt, so he took you off his body to start leaving kisses all over your face, causing laughter in both. by that time, caspian had already retired, leaving you two alone.

"what are you doing here?" said edmund when he stopped kissing your face, but leaving his hands on your waist while you stroked his cheeks.

"I have no idea, but I’m here! and I missed you so much that I don’t care!"

"I missed you too, with all my heart" the boy’s eyes turned to your mouth and an urge to taste your soft lips flooded him.

"do it" and he did it. what he was waiting for so long. at that time nothing didn’t matter, no war or anything. just the two of you. neither of you could put into words what you felt, but you two wanted to find out together. between kisses and caresses, you could decipher when that passionate love was born, that passion that was sealed with a reunion kiss.

#edmund pevensie #edmund pevensie x reader #edmund pevensie fanfic #edmund pevensie x y/n #the chronics of narnia #narnia fanfiction #narnia #fanfic #fanfiction #imagine #one shots #prince caspian

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

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Survey #367

“i should warn you that you may fuck me, but chances are i’m gonna fuck you over”

Where was the last place you went for vacation? The beach. When was the last time you wore makeup? Halloween. Do you watch soaps or drama series? If so, which ones? Not currently. What’s your favourite tomato variety? I hate tomatoes. What was your very first pet like? Dad had a dog named Trigger when I was born, but I have no memory of her, so I'm excluding her. I consider our first family pet to be Chance, a cat my mom took in after finding her literally in the trash. She was... god, incredible. She was a loyal friend, and I can imagine no greater mother than she was (she legit fought off a rottweiler head-on to protect her kittens). She was so smart, so gentle, and just simply amazing. I'll always miss her. What was the best school project you remember doing? Looking back, despite the fact it TERRIFIED me before, that would be my senior project presentation. It was about snake misconceptions and fallacies, so I made a slideshow to present to the special ed class. I made drawings for them to color, word searches, all that kind of stuff. They were just the sweetest and seemed really into it. What’s your favourite type of fish to eat? None. What kind of an old person do you think you’ll become? I really... don't like thinking about this. Like I'm weak enough now at 25, I can't imagine how my, say, 60s would be. I hope and just about pray that my physical health will improve, but I'm just going to exclude that part entirely from this answer. Personality-wise and such, I have a feeling I'll be the quiet and sweet kind, the one that loves her (hopeful) spouse like crazy, and comes most alive on Halloween if I live in a place where children come trick-or-treating. I imagine I would LOVE that. I'd love to be the type that goes on morning jogs to help stay spry. Which well-known person’s death shocked you the most, if any? Steve Irwin and Chester Bennington might be tied. Both were so, so sudden. Steve was like, invincible to my childhood eyes, and when I heard about Chester's death, I thought it was just a sick rumor. Two amazing people that died way too soon. What’s the craziest colour you’d dye your hair? That would depend on personal opinions. I want to dye my hair LOTS of colors though, if that tells you anything. What’s the coolest hobby one of your friends has? Uhhhh. Idk. Name a video game you can play over and over again: Shadow of the Colossus. It's a pretty short game if you know what you're doing, and it's super relaxing to me and just so goddamn pretty to look at. Every time I've played it has just been a pleasant experience. Do you like meatloaf? Yeah, it's fine. How about Meatloaf? I know who he is, but I've never really listened to his music. Do you take time to do charitable work? If so, what do you do? No. ;_; Especially with all the free time I have, I really should... What is something that will make you laugh instantly? Okay, don't ask, but if I for a SECOND see that commercial of Mr. Clean dancing while he's cleaning, I will die because of memories. What is something you hope you will never inherit from a specific relative? Diabetes. It runs heavily in my family. Name a movie you wouldn’t watch solely based on its name: The Human Centipede. No. Thank you. Have you ever played in a stack of hay bales? No. What’s your dearest souvenir? The stuffed moose I got at Cabela's during a visit to Ohio. I named him Brownie, and he was my "childhood plushie" we all have. Is there a lot of graffiti around your neighbourhood? Not in the actual area I live in, but there are DEFINITELY places where it's a pigsty of distasteful shit. Have you ever made your own soda? (Soda Stream doesn’t count!) No. Do you have a hobby that forces you out of the house? If so, what is it? Nature photography. Have you ever been part of a theater group? No, that stuff doesn't interest me. What’s the most ecological thing you do? We recycle, and I also use metal straws. Would you stop eating meat, if you had to raise and slaughter it yourself? Absolutely. There is no fucking way I could do it. What’s your favourite board game? Why do you like it best? I like Clue just because of the mystery-solving factor, and I think it's kinda cool how you can think ahead and use other's findings to your own advantage to win the game pretty early. Besides English, what other languages can you speak? Some German. It's gotten pretty weak with neglect, though. Besides English, what other languages can you read? I can read German well. What thing/person/happening has made you the happiest you’ve been? This is a complicated answer that I just don't feel like elaborating on. What’s the most freeing thing you’ve ever done? Letting Jason go. Have you ever had a restaurant dish that was made with bugs? If not, would you even want to try one? No, and I'm not interested. Have you ever tasted birch sap? No. How about the young buds/shoots of spruce trees? No. Which edible flowers have you tasted? Honeysuckles. What has been your worst restaurant experience? Well, it's a fast food restaurant, but lemme tell you about my vegetarian encounter with Burger King. I ordered their veggie burger. Which they have. It's not a secret. These idiots gave me a bun with tomato and lettuce, and I think mayo on it, after sounding confused when Mom was ordering for me. Mom went back in there of course to tell them, and oh god was the manager pissed, lol. I got my veggie burger in the end. What’s the most immature, adolescent thing that still makes you laugh? Some sexually inappropriate jokes can still get me sadly, lol. Have you ever had a life-threatening condition? If so, what was it? Not literally, but boy do I think depression counts. Do you ever compare your life to somebody else’s? If so, why? Y E P. I can't tell you why, I just... do it. I look at other's successes and am just like, "Why aren't I there yet?", and beat myself up about being a failure. What is a food item or a dish you absolutely cannot stand? Brussel sprouts, asparagus, runny eggs, many other things because I'm just mega picky. Have you ever had a custom print done on a shirt? If so, what was it? Just the spray paint kind that vendors like to do at the beach and stuff. I don't remember any I got, though. What does your favourite mug look like? It's black with a Markiplier quote on it, given to me by Sara. :') Do you ever read other people’s survey answers? Yeah! Friends', anyway. I love learning all the obscure things about them. Do you like daytime or night time better? Why? Daytime, specifically early morning, because it's better for my depression. Are you more comfortable as a leader or a follower? A follower that isn't afraid to speak up when I'm really against something. What is your favourite song right now at this very moment? I've been really into "7empest" by Tool lately, and the synthwave edit of "Voices" by Motionless In White. If you watched The Fresh Prince of Bel Air, who was your favourite character? I don't remember it well, but I think I liked the butler. Was there even a butler? Who was your first online friend? Emma. :') Do you have any plants in your home? No. If you wear makeup, what’s the most outrageous colour you use? I only ever use black. What was the last photograph you took? My cat being adorable while sleeping. <3 Have you ever submitted a video to Funniest Home Videos? No. What was the first sport you learned how to play? I want to say soccer? I absolutely hated it. Do you have a headache at the moment? Yes, actually. I've really been attacked by the Covid shot side effects. Are your parents still together? No, thank god. What was the last hot food you ate? I made a chicken and I think pesto (some Italian noodles, idk) Healthy Choice bowl for dinner last night. Have you ever seen a meteor shower? No. :( Do you ever feel afraid people will question your sanity? I'm sure people have before, and back then? Rightfully so. Which X Factor audition(s) was/were your favorite? Never watched it. Were you a straight A student in spelling and grammar? Always. It's so weird how it's gotten worse with time since leaving school, even though I write... Were you a straight A student in math? Yeah, no. I usually got Bs or Cs. What is your favorite shade of yellow? Pastel. I don't really like yellow. What is something you want to accomplish before you turn 30? Have a stable job. Are you afraid of getting yelled at? YES. Do you feel a connection to the moon? It's not something I think about, so not really, but I do believe all things in the universe are connected in some way. We are simply a part of nature, as all else is. What does your heart long for? Contentment in who I am and where I am in life. I know I also miss being in love. Do you know what your purpose in life is? We have no innate purpose; we make our own, and I want mine to be to show others that there is always hope for yourself in yourself, and also to spread the message of love of all animals. Did you decorate a pumpkin this year? Last year I didn't. I really should change that this go around. Have you ever seen a fox? Yes! They're a kind of rare sight here sadly, so when I had the opportunity to photograph a fox tragically as roadkill, it was a photographic experience I won't forget. God, I wanted to pet it (I obviously didn't), but I did talk to it about how beautiful (s)he was as I got some shots. I never had a harder time leaving one of those angels I've taken pictures of. Do you find Halloween fun or scary? FUN!!!!!! Is there anything about Halloween you find offensive? Not at all. What do the trees look like where you live? I mean, there's a variety, but the staple that you see literally everywhere are pine trees. What is your dream vacation? Somewhere with mountains, clear lakes, cool weather, beautiful and various wildlife... What was the best vacation you’ve been on so far? Disney World as a kid. What is the best class trip you’ve been on? The zoo in the 5th grade. It was the one occasion I got to see meerkats. Did you like field trips when you were a kid? I lived for them. Do you find museums boring or interesting? I find science museums to be very, very fascinating. Art ones are great, too. What are three issues you are passionate about? LGBT rights, the pro-choice movement, and wildlife conservation, to name a few. Would you ever wear a shirt with your country’s flag on it? No. I'm not patriotic enough at all. What size is your bed? Queen. What’s a medicine that makes you sleepy? When we were experimenting with my Klonopin dosage, I learned that 3mg was enough to knock me on my ASS. Do you like bath bombs? I mean they're pretty, but I wouldn't waste money on 'em. Who are your favorite small YouTubers? Yikes, a looooooot. But this also depends on what you think qualifies as "small." Most of my favorite "small" YTers are tarantula keepers or sub-1M let's players. Who are your favorite big YouTubers? Markiplier obviously, Snake Discovery, Good Mythical Morning (even if I don't watch them anymore, they are veeery dear to my heart and I will always support them), Sam & Colby... Again, there's a lot. When you don't watch TV and YT instead, you really get attached to a lot of them. What was your favorite girl group when you were growing up? Would you believe me if I said Pussycat Dolls? haha Do you like Disney movies? Um, DUH. Were you ever in the popular crowd? No. Have you ever used an outhouse? UGH, at like childhood sports games, yes. I could NEVER nowadays, oh my god. Could you possibly write a successful novel? I think I have the creativity to, but not the dedication. Are there any foods that make you gag? Beans, for one. I just canNOT with them. It's a completely involuntary reaction. Have you ever had blonde highlights in your hair? I think I did? Who was the last person you video-chatted with? The lady who was seeing if I qualified for TMS therapy. Do you think sleeve tattoos look trashy? Definitely not, I love those. If you had to get a portrait tattoo, who would it be of? I don't actually want one, but if I did, I'd go to a serious professional to get THE Darkiplier smile. :') If u know u know. Do you have any stickers on any of your electronic devices? No. Do you think half blonde/half dark brown hair is attractive? It looks great on some people, but it's not my favorite combo.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''leave a scar'' by marilyn manson

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munamania · 4 years

Text

the promise (ch. 1)

a/n: hi yes i wrote for the clown gays like a year ago and im deciding to post this now sjdghfg pls be kind

pair: richie tozier/eddie kaspbrak

word count: 8.5k

warnings: swearing, blood ment, homophobic slurs, abuse mentions, psychological trickery, richie’s parents start out a lil absent but they get better i promise

excerpt: “You’re gonna miss curfew, Rich,” Eddie mumbles, leaning out the window on his elbows. And Richie hears it: you’re alone, you know what could happen. Stay safe.

“I’m not afraid, Eds.” He means it. Richie can’t draw up what fear even feels like right then. With a flick of an eyebrow, he nods toward the door. “Mother is waiting.”

“I know.”

read on ao3

No, it’s not that Richie is gay. It’s not like he daydreams about taking it up the ass all fucking day.

Henry Bowers and his dipshit crew might have a different opinion, but they can honestly, truly suck his dick (in the non-homo way - he has taste). The fact that they took joy in throwing him and his friends around, calling them names, and threatening their whole lives never mattered before; the losers took care of each other, and most of the time it was easy to forget about those other assholes.

Being called four-eyes when he needed glasses in the second grade never got to him that bad - they were saving him from having to see their ugly faces when they knocked them off, so really, he should have thanked them - and he didn’t care when they shoved him around for being short before his growth spurt, and it didn’t even bother him that much when they mocked his totally refined voices. He knew his own talent, and what he could do with it if he could just focus.

But the first time they singled him out as the fag of the group, well, it stung.

He never told the others about that day. He never told them how long he cried, how broken he felt sobbing on that park bench. He never worked up the nerve to tell them why he couldn’t face Paul Bunyan anymore, no, he simply breezed past without lifting his eyes, without missing a beat of conversation.

At least it got easier with time.

All things considered, his home life isn’t terrible.

Richie has his own room, a roof, and usually a decently-stocked fridge. Enough to get by.

He’s left alone a lot. His parents are always at work, and when they’re not, they take on the personalities of monotonous robots sitting in front of the TV, so he spends a lot of time skimming through comics or jacking off when he’s not running around with his friends.

But, that’s just the thing. Somehow, Richie, life of every conversation, King of Comedy, Trashmouth, funny-man Tozier, was born to the most boring people of all time. They never engage with his jokes; on a good day, he receives a breezy, “That’s nice, sweetie,” from his mom, or, “Okay, that’s enough, son,” from his dad. Blank stares. Pasty, purple-tinted white eyes. Never a hug, never much past a ‘goodnight.’ Not even a simple, “How was school?” when they got home.

Richie vividly remembers the day that he bounced in his seat at the end-of-the-year ceremony at school, a bustling bundle of nerves prepared to brag and boast to his parents about his awards in science and, surprisingly (his teacher hated him) English - he took to the dramatics of Shakespeare quite well. He practiced his entrance to them several times over in his head, perhaps overly, unconvincingly modest or Shakespeare wants what I have. Anything to get a laugh. A ruffle of his hair from his dad. A forehead kiss from his mom, like when he was little.

They didn’t show. He still doesn’t know where he went wrong.

In a stark, bubbling contrast to his parents, there’s this kid in his group of friends. He remembers one of the first times they met, the boy approaching him, all sweet apple-cheeked and neat polo and ironed khaki shorts; Richie had flicked an eyebrow upward, a not-so-subtle really?, because he never figured that clean-freak Eddie Kaspbrak would be able to handle more than three seconds in Trashmouth Tozier’s presence.

But boy, was he a lot of fun.

Eddie was loud and super easily wound-up, screaming about fucking UTIs and do not fucking push me man all the piss on the walls of this city could fill the lake and despite his good-boy appearance, he shot back with just as much fire as Richie threw at him.

And fuck, Richie loves it. He loves the ease with which they bounce back and forth. He loves the fury in the boy’s eyes when Richie pisses him off, the laughter that always comes about between them once they settle. The crossing arms and pouting Eddie, who he theorizes secretly loves it when Richie calls him pet names (not that he’d ever admit it); the loud and greatly-gesticulating Eddie who yells louder and pushes harder when Richie coos at him; the one who quietly accepts Richie’s affection, and offers it back in subtle ways: simply holding Richie’s arm when he slings his arms around Eddie’s neck from behind, allowing him to sit next to him thigh-to-thigh, and overall not completely cringing and pushing him off. He took it as a compliment, though they’d never mention it out loud.

On an unfortunate night, his comfortable little world comes crashing down.

His parents are out for some sort of conference weekend trip or whatever, and they’ve called in his deadbeat uncle to ‘watch over the house.’ Not necessarily him (probably because he isn’t home that much), but the house obviously can’t stand up by itself—and, well, maybe they didn’t trust Richie to not accidentally leave the door open, or leave the stove on, or some other stupidly irresponsible little thing. So, the crusty old guy shows up with his greasy, oiled hair and his lack of deodorant and his wilting knees. It makes Richie miss Eddie so, so much when they part, because a.) he smells a lot better, and b.) it would be fucking hilarious for him to see what Richie has to put up with. Like, he’s really not the most rodent-like of his family.

Anyway, Richie doesn’t remember what he says. Something slightly instigative, about the lack of any gourmet-level food in the house (he claimed calmly while wasting away on microwave tater tots and bread, even though his parents had left behind plenty of money to keep him alive), and then suddenly hands were on him.

It stings like a bitch.

His uncle gets up, with a quiet mumble that Richie makes out to be, “Well, let’s see…” and when he finally gets in the kitchen, facing Richie with eyes rung red and shaking fists, he grabs his nephew by a fistful of t-shirt and shoves him against the counter.

At that moment, he really wants his mom. Why the fuck did she and dad leave him with this guy?

“I don’t see you fucking working, or doing much of anything around here, kiddo.”

“Funny, I was gonna say the same to you.”

A blow to his mouth. Richie resists the urge to lift trembling fingers to the spot that he can feel swelling.

“Don’t talk to me like that, asshole! You think you’re so fucking funny, huh?” His uncle drags him forward and shoves him back with conviction, and this time Richie doesn’t answer.

He should have known to stay quiet when he saw his uncle drinking and smoking incessantly in the house, even though his mother had requested that he stay outside for that. It must have been a rough day at the bar, or wherever the fuck he spent his time.

“You need to learn when to be quiet, dipshit. Have some fucking respect.”

For the guy who ignored him for years, didn’t stay in touch, and wasted his existence away on the couch.

Right.

But Richie is snapped from his indignant, grounding thoughts when his uncle lowers his voice. “Do I make myself clear?”

Richie frowns in his face, utterly confused from the swell of attention, still limply holding a bag of bread in his left hand.

“Do I make myself clear?”

“Y-yes sir.”

The wretched man makes a point to push him into the corner of the cupboards with such a force that he collapses to his knees and can just feel the bruises forming. And he sits there for a minute, all sorts of betrayal and anger and sadness suffocating him.

But he stands up.

And with stinging eyes, a stuffy nose, and shaking hands, he makes himself a simple peanut butter sandwich.

And he stays upstairs for the remainder of the night

It’s a warm, soothing day outside; the sun glows and birds are chirping like some kind of fucking cartoon. In the tall grass the losers sit in frogs croak and crickets chirp and they make a mess of themselves in the circle they form.

“Damn, Rich, what happened to you?” comes Stan’s voice, concerned eyes flashing down to his now royally fucked-up mouth.

“Yeah, dude, what the fuck?” says Bev through a sandwich, truly a charmer.

Richie grins at Bev but answers to Stan, ignoring the sting in the corner of his lips. “Guess I’m a fighter at heart.”

“Richie—“

Bev chimes in once again, a bright, snarky grin on her face, “Richie, you can tell us if it was another accident, we won’t judge. Promise.”

Bev has a way about her; he knows she’s not genuinely the largest, most gaping asshole on earth, and that she actually cared a lot and cried over her friends in the darkest nights, but she also knew how to make light of something dark (even the worst). She probably knew. She probably just had his back in her own funny way, like taking the pressure off the reality.

“Bev, I’ve really, truly, always appreciated your charm, but as my dearest favorite person on earth, fuck off.”

“Richie,” Bill says, then hesitates. In that time, Bev flips Richie the bird, which he answers with an air kiss. “What really h-ah-happened?” He looks him over with a frown, clear blue eyes swallowing him in concern and maybe love.

Richie offers a simple smirk before settling against the trunk of a tree. “Don’t worry about it, Billiam. I’ve got it under control.”

“Whatever you say,” Bev says. She tosses a baggie over to him with his favorite sandwich.

Stan isn’t so easily convinced, eyeing Richie up carefully, but he sits with Bev on the boulder she’s settled on when Richie doesn’t falter in his casual disposition.

It takes a lot of work, as always.

Ben shows up moments later, with a calm and tender, “You alright, Rich?” and when Richie goes off on a stupid tough-guy spiel, he simply lays at the foot of the boulder and flicks open a book, meeting Richie with one of his melting smiles, a gentle invitation, a sweet If you ever need it, I’m there, but allowing him the space to go on as normal. Which is nice.

Richie knows they all care. He knows he could tell them, could pour all of the terror and tragedy he felt the night before into the air and they’d fill up the space; Mike would give him the tightest hug in the world, one to combat the most heinous of things; Stan would sit with him as long as he needed it, Bev would come through with a smoke and the best advice in the world, and Ben would tell him stories or just hang out with him until everything felt a bit lighter, and Bill would give him anything in the world because Richie would do it back. That’s the way they were.

But he can’t do it.

“Sorry I’m late guys,” comes a nasally voice, huffing and puffing, new pressure leaning against the tree, and Richie grins. Eddie.

“It’s okay, Eds,” he says, reaching over a few fingers to tickle Eddie’s knee, giggling when the boy smacks at his hand and doubles over with an exclamatory, Richie!

The others offer a few sleepy greetings, all soaked up in their own forms of entertainment for the quiet afternoon: Bev and Ben, heads close enough to share his walkman; Stan, reading some lengthy oath to birds or something; Mike snoozing lightly on Bill’s shoulder while Bill pores over some adventure map from a fantasy novel.

They had all agreed that it was too tiresome to go swimming today, as the previous night was spent out at Stan’s with a bonfire, and for a few of them, some stolen booze (not very much, but enough that they could pretend to be drunk and giggle profusely). But they still wanted to hang out, so this was the middle ground. An afternoon picnic in the shade.

Eddie quickly notices his lip and drops down to his side. “Richie, what happened to you? Was it Bowers again? I swear to god, I will fucking kill that guy--”

Richie smiles softly at the protective words, and tries to turn it into a smirk. “Eddie, baby, don’t worry,” he says. “It’s just a little bump.”

Surprisingly, Eddie sidles up next to him, using the pad of his thumb to press at the sides of Richie’s mouth, apparently assessing some sort of damage. “Don’t call me that.” He scowls. “What did you do? Did you ice it? Clean this cut at all? Cause you could get an infection, you know, you really should clean it.”

Richie bats his eyes. “Clean it for me, sweets?”

“Fuck off. Forget I cared.”

“Ah, come on, Spaghettio. I didn’t mean it.” He pulls Eddie down with a simple gesture, pressing his palm to the boy’s shoulder and dragging. The boy rests against the trunk, nestled in Richie’s side.

But that’s the complicated thing. He sorta wishes he could mean it. In a small, poking-at-the-back-of-his-head-always kind of way.

“Just—tell me what happened,” Eddie pipes up quietly from his side.

When Richie glances down, he takes to heart how disgruntled Eddie still looks, crossing his arms and almost pouting.

He shrugs. “Your mother was simply affronted by how good I am with my mouth, Eds, she couldn’t take it anymore.”

Eddie presses his mouth into a line, rolls his eyes at the stupid British voice Richie had developed, and busies himself with a thrilling edition of The Lancet

Later, as dusk settles in and pale purple skies replace the bright blue, and the club leaves with simple ‘goodbye’s and promises to do something fun tomorrow, Eddie shifts from his nap. He’d passed out with his head slammed back against Richie’s arm (he’d caught it just before he fell to the ground, avoiding a lengthy rant about potential concussions and medical bills), curled in the opposite direction from Richie’s abdomen. As he wakes, through, he rolls over, elbow digging into Richie’s side.

“Ah-ow,” Richie groans, sitting up from his cataconic state of reading Ben’s stolen comics and avoiding moving and waking Eddie. But he’d just dug the pointiest part of his entire firecracker body into Richie’s ribs, where Richie had attempted and failed to nurse a bruise he’d accrued from a vicious cupboard corner. It was at an awkward angle, and he refused to go down to get more ice packs once they melted, so he slept unsoundly and laid uncomfortably.

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbles, voice muddled with sleep. “Shit, it’s late. When did I fall asleep? My mom’s gonna kill me.”

Even in that gurgly, world upside-down state of post-nap consciousness, the boy freaks out about his mother. Richie sighs and rubs his shoulder.

“You’re all good, Eddie boy,” he attempts for a creaky, witchy voice, but it’s half-assed because he gets so tired of this lady. Not Eddie ranting, that was fine, and he knew the kid needed to get it out of his system; but he was fucking tired of Mrs. K hurting his boy. “You took your meds on time, fell asleep shortly after. Might need to amputate my arm now, though.”

His boy.

Eddie sits up, and Richie stares at his back, illuminated in the dusk, because he wore a fun yellow today, resting prettily against his tanned, freckled skin.

(Maybe Richie had looked over, amused, for a few moments, as Eddie snored and twitched his nose in his sleep; and he counted the freckles on Eddie’s arm, his cheek, whatever he could see for entertainment.)

Eddie glances back at him, and Richie distracts himself with his bag, shifting his eyes awkwardly from the boy’s gaze.

“Well, well, good sir, shall I walk you home on this fine night?”

Eddie’s brow furrows. “Richie, what’s that?”

His eyes are trained intently on the aforementioned bruise, and its cousins that pepper his hips, only exposed because he slipped and let his shirt ride up when he bent over.

He clears his throat, scrambling for some dumbass answer, wholeheartedly unprepared for the severity of this conversation. “You know how the ladies throw themselves—“

“Okay, you know what, fine.” Eddie stands quickly, stumbling slightly, and braces himself against the tree. “You don't have to fucking tell me. Just come home with me, okay?”

“A night with Eddie Kaspbrak? Why, you’re really a dream-come-true kind of guy.”

“Your lip is bleeding again,” he responds simply, apparently not one for fun at this very moment. “I can clean it.”

Richie pops up from the ground, feeling quite pip pip, tally ho about the whole thing. “Righty-o, Eddie boy.

That’s how he ends up sitting on the edge of Eddie’s porcelain-white bathtub, dirtying it with his messy jeans and dirt-coated nails.

It takes a lot of strategic planning, lots of sneaking past Mrs. K, and then sweet-talking and kisses from Eddie once she wakes up freaking out about how late he was. But, after about fifteen minutes of contest-worthy screeching from the woman, Eddie stomps up the stairs, slams the door with a very I’m gonna pull my hair out look, and has to take about three extra minutes to compose himself, ranting under his breath.

Richie just stares at his distorted reflection in the shining silvery faucet, the violet under his eyes and the renewed puffiness of his lip, Hawaiian pattern of his shirt disheveled in the odd mirror.

He knows not to engage unless Eddie actually speaks up to him, meaning this run-in was probably just overly grating and mentally draining, considering, well, how his mother is. He just needs a second to get it out, not any kind of heartfelt talk (which Richie sucks at anyway) or even a lighthearted joke. The boy paces and growls into a fist. Then, eventually, he breathes, “Okay.”

Eighteen minutes. Eighteen minutes of sitting around and waiting for Eddie, just for him to kneel in front of Richie, doe eyes clear and focused, dabbing so, so gently at his battered lip.

In a way, it’s heaven.

“I take it your mom can’t wait for me to buy dinner, eh?”

Eddie sighs. “Apparently this time I’m gonna contract malaria, Rich, didn’t you know? There’s an incredible outbreak this time of year and I’m obviously not prepared to avoid fucking mosquitoes, what with my fifteen bottles of bug spray and essential oils. I’ll probably die tomorrow!”

“I will make sure that your funeral is a fucking rager dude, don’t you worry. Booze on me.”

A ghost of a smile.

“Richie…” he breathes out in a long winded way, saying nothing and everything for way too long. “Why don’t you stay here tonight?”

Richie raises an eyebrow. “Man, I thought you were gonna back out on your previous offer, but I guess the call for a night with Richie Tozier is too much to back away from. I get it.” He smiles painfully at the way Eddie’s face crumples with something like boredom. “Christ, dude, what’s your poison?” He makes a face at the antiseptic substance that trickles into his mouth.

“Maybe if you kept your mouth shut for once, this wouldn’t be an issue.”

Richie beams, which just causes Eddie to huff even more.

“Please, just stay still!

“It was my uncle,” Richie finally says, forcing a bored expression onto his face as he flips through a rather dull magazine, sprawled on Eddie’s bed. “And it wasn’t a big deal.”

Panic flashes across Eddie’s face. His cheeks burn red, and his leg jitters anxiously against Richie’s, but his voice remains level, which Richie thanks dear lordy Jesus for. “Your uncle? He hit you?”

“Well,” Richie pauses. “Uh, kinda. He was just really drunk, Eds, and he got mad and I was in the way.”

“In the way?”

He shrugs, a small smile quirking his lip up. “Am I not usually?”

“Rich.” Eddie’s voice is really soft in that moment, gentler and quieter than anything Richie has heard from him in all the time he’s known his fellow loudmouth. It simultaneously terrifies and thrills him. Eds. Eddie brings his knees to his chest, leaning back against the headboard. “You say a lot of dumb shit, but that doesn’t mean you should be hurt.” He must notice Richie’s uncomfortable look, because he adds lightly, “Most of the time, anyway.”

“Woah, Eddie, don’t go overboard with the kindness or anything--”

“Damn it, Richie.” He casts his eyes downward. “I’m just trying to say - um - thanks for telling me. Sorry if that’s fucked up to say, but I know you didn’t want to, so, yeah. We don’t have to talk about it anymore.”

Richie swallows deeply with a slow nod, focusing his eyes on the blurry words in front of him. “Well, if there’s anyone I’d tell, it’s Dr. K. He’s gonna be the one to save my life, right?”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Right.” He kicks at Richie’s foot, a subtle way of telling him to move over so he can get under the covers.

“Night, toots.”

“Goodnight, Richie.

Richie thinks he knows everything possible about Eddie thus far.

He knows when he needs to take his meds, an internal clock he recently developed; he knows that the boy is not nearly as fragile as he sometimes seems, and if he really tried, he could pack a punch; he knows that he loves fervently and he’ll always take care of his friends, even if it’s in a way that would usually disgust him.

Case in point: he didn’t seem to freak out at Richie’s bleeding lip, even when a steady stream of blood started dripping down his chin from the contact of trying to clean it out, though he usually cringed if he got so much as a scratch from a twig. Somehow, some way, he simply held pressure on the wound and told Richie to hold some ice on it (“Ordering me around now, hot stuff? I can work with that,”), and washed his own hands thoroughly in the sink.

What he doesn’t know until that night, is that Eddie is a cuddler. At least, half-asleep, groggy Eddie is. Like, this kid must be more starved for affection than he is. Richie had curled himself in a ball toward the edge of the mattress, willing himself not to do so much as even press his back against Eddie’s, way too afraid of the ease with which two people can tangle themselves together in the night, terrified of what would happen if he woke up with Eddie’s hands on him, wrapped up in Eddie, Eddie’s terrible morning breath against his cheek, Eddie Eddie Eddie. But while Richie had stressed himself into falling halfway off the bed, Eddie had flopped over in his sleep, slung an arm across Richie’s waist and, seeming to sense that he had something to hold, pulled him in tight to his chest. Though Richie’s breath caught in his throat, he figured, well, no one could really see them then, so what was the harm in passing out like that? No one had to know. He could pass it off like he’d been sleeping the whole time.

But he cherishes every fucking minute of it

Richie wakes to the sound of something pounding, a steady beat, and in that state of slowly waking from a dream he thinks it’s some old drum, playing lowly in the corner by some restless figure. When he comes to, his eyes creaking open slowly, he sees the gentle orange-ish hue of the morning sky, the neat room around him, the scent of detergent and soothing fabric softener wafting near his face. And he realizes his head is tucked into Eddie’s side, the boy’s slowed heartbeat thumping softly against his ear.

Normally, he’d just let Eddie sleep, as he’s usually only the asshole waking everyone up when it’s the whole gang. He doesn’t mind spending a few hours by himself in the morning. In fact, he enjoys the opportunity to try to fall back asleep (even though he never does).

But with a sudden impulse, he lays a palm on Eddie’s ribcage and pushes himself up onto his elbows, then shakes the boy.

“Eddie.”

A muffled, “Mmph?”

“Eds, wake up.”

The boy drags a pillow over his ears for all of two seconds before Richie tickles his stomach. Then he crankily sits up and lets out a gruff, “What?”

Richie grins. “The sunrise, Eds! Look, it’s so pretty, you have to believe me.”

Eddie responds by laying his cheek on Richie’s shoulder blade, slumping forward with his eyes still closed. “You do know,” he breathes, “that if the sun is just rising, it’s like, six a.m.?”

“Hmm, 5:49, but close enough, I suppose.”

The most huffy breath that Eddie can manage at this hour tickles the hairs on the back of Richie’s neck. “Did you know that people who don’t sleep enough die a lot younger? There are serious health consequences.” It doesn’t come out in his usual fiery, punctuated tone; it’s soft and filled with a yawn and he’s pretty sure Eddie might fall back asleep just like that. “You can’t die early on me, Richie. And I don’t want to. Go back to sleep.” He peeks one eye open at the window, squinting at the glow of the sun. “It is pretty, though.” With that, he falls back against the pillow and curls into a ball against the wall.

And Richie’s pretty damn sure in that moment that he’s, like, in love

And, sure, that’s terrifying.

He has no one to talk to about it and nothing could convince him it’s normal, so he shrugs it off and pretends it isn’t there.

Cause that’s a good way to cope, right?

It doesn’t matter that Eddie is so easily comfortable with him—he’s a low-pressure person, is all. And no one had called out the way pet names rolled off Richie’s tongue so easily, because that was just a part of his joke. Normal. Easy.

Until it wasn’t

You see, there’s this bitch Pennywise. This idiot clown terrorizes his friends, kills people, haunts their nights and days, and fucks with their minds. Tries to turn them against each other. And they can’t even throw a jest back! It’s a sick system.

Well, anyway, the losers end up in some crickety, wooden, falling-apart-at-the-seams murder house on Neibolt, because Bill wants to find his brother and none of them are willing to abandon him. Instead, Richie gets to see himself dead, face off with a monstrous fucking clown, and hear heart-wrenching screams from Eddie that he can’t even help, because he can’t get out.

When he does, he reunites with Stan and Bill, using the few seconds he has to catch his breath.

Just as quickly, he loses it.

In front of him lies Eddie, arm twisted at the ugliest, most heinous angle, and not only is he probably in pain and freaking out about the arm, but a 7-foot tall clown is sauntering towards him with a stupid swaggering gait, like it knows that they can’t do anything to save Eddie.

Eddie.

The boy cowers against dust and fallen wood that must be itching to give him splinters; tears streak down his dirty face and his chest rises and falls rapidly, as Pennywise taunts him. Fucking horses around, making stupid noises and joking while Eddie falls apart, and Richie doesn’t know how to save him, even after everything Eddie’s done for him. Richie is vaguely aware of Stan grasping his shoulder, trying to ground him, and he silently thanks him as he glances around for fucking anything to use as a weapon, because he certainly can’t jump into this blindly--

Then Beverly busts into the room and stabs the bitch in the head, and Richie can’t think but his feet are moving and he lands in front of Eddie in the few seconds’ time he has to play catch-up. He reminds himself to remind Bev of just how much he loves her later.

For now, though, his focus is Eddie. His ears are ringing and he’s noted the commotion going on behind him, he even realizes that Bill ends up at his side, but his gaze is right on his Eds, grasping at his face, trying to do anything to help him.

“Eds. No, no, no! Look at me! It’s okay. Please be okay.” He steadies his voice and tries really hard not to think about how much he sucks as a caretaker, how he has no fucking clue what to do, but he’s scared and he desperately just wants to take Eddie from the room and keep him safe, forever and ever.

Terror-filled eyes find him as the clown continues toward the three of them, flexing horrendous claws; Richie kneels in front of Eddie and Bill’s at his back, and Richie knows Eddie acknowledges him but he’s whimpering and shaking and staring back at the clown. And Pennywise is thriving.

“Eds,” he says, louder, grabbing Eddie’s chin and forcing it in his direction. “Please just - fuck the clown, okay? Fuck everything. It’s me and you. I’ve got you.” And he’d probably be much more convincing if he weren’t shouting and clinging to Eddie’s shoulders like it means death.

But, he seems to capture the boy’s attention, as he keeps his eyes steadily on Richie and blinks a few times. “My arm!” he cries. “Fuck, I can’t fucking move. I’m gonna die. It hurts, Rich.”

“Hey, you’re not gonna die. I don’t die early on you, you don’t die early on me. That’s the deal.”

“Some deals are made to be broken.”

Eddie is just staring at him, blank eyes staring through him with a grin, a stark contrast to the screaming that was going on just moments before. A surge of panic rises in Richie’s chest, like a freezing wind knocking through his stupid little preteen body. He shakes his head in confusion.

“Eddie, shut up. It’s just your arm. You’re gonna be fine!”

A shrug. “Who’s to say?” And then he sits up, arm convulsing at his side like some dying snake, and Richie flinches and flies back into Bill’s chest. He can’t do this. He can’t help Eddie like he should, he can’t take care of him like he wants to. He’s a coward.

“Rich.” Bill is a million miles away.

Right here, right now, is that thing in Eddie’s place, body rattling like a rag doll. “They’ll find out.” Eddie’s voice is fucked up, scratchy, and his eyes are all wrong; the way he’s staring at him is fucking uncanny. “Get too touchy, Rich, and you know what’ll happen.”

“Stop, please, fucking stop!”

“Richie!” Bill is finally right there, shaking both of his shoulders from behind. “S-stop. You’re f-f-fine. It’s just fucking with your head.”

It takes a few deep breaths, but Richie turns to him and says a quick, ‘Thanks,’ before turning back to real-Eddie, who is now dry-heaving and wailing at the sight of his arm.

Eddie’s chest thrusts forward and back rapidly, and he keeps trying to back further from the bedlam in front of them. His face contorts into an absolutely heart-wrenching cry, and as he looks at Richie, gripping his hand with an iron fist, Richie’s heart splits in two. It’s hard, it’s way too hard not to say I love you, after all that. And it’s hard not to run.

“I don’t wanna die - ”

Richie crawls closer to cradle Eddie’s head. “Eddie, if you die I’ll kill you.” He wants to go home, he wants to cry, he wants to sleep for about three days and pretend this never happened. But he can’t. He has to be here for Eddie, as much as he wants to flee right now. “You’re not going to, you know that? I still owe you ice cream. And I’m gonna get you inside the arcade—“

“Fuck the arcade!”

Somehow, in all of the fuckery going on, Richie laughs. “That’s the spirit!” Eddie, in a scramble to back away from the startle of Pennywise running away, shifts into Richie’s lap. “Okay, Eddie, breathe.” Richie gulps down a breath himself. “I’m gonna snap your arm back into place.”

Eddie’s eyes light up, completely on fire, spitting poison at Richie. “Rich! Do not fucking touch me!”

Richie winces at the words but he hears Bev screaming, “Richie, his arm!” and uses the moment of yelling to just do it, to get Eddie’s arm back to a relatively normal shape, and then he’s screaming and it’s like he wants Richie to cry in front of everyone.

“Okay okay okay, it’s done. No more.” Richie, awkward and lost at what to do, brushes back sweaty hair from Eddie’s forehead, because he’s pretty sure the boy would hate how sticky everything had gotten, and if he could help even one thing, well, it’s something.

He wishes he could help carry Eddie home, sit with him in the hospital, anything to cheer him up.

But he doesn’t get the chance. Mrs. K is outside and snatches Eddie from the losers in the flash of an eye, talking like they broke his fucking arm or something.

That’s when it all goes downhill

Richie storms away from his stupid feud with Bill, the fucking dumbass who punched him in the face because he said he didn’t want a clown to kill him and his friends. He thinks it’s the most reasonable thing he’s ever said, objectively, but whatever. He doesn’t want to lose his friends. But in that moment, he doesn’t see many other options.

When he trudges back home after his third day alone at the arcade, following newly-formed muscle memory to avoid his uncle (close the door slowly, shift weight and run upstairs, wait at least twenty minutes to go back down for food in case he stirs), he notices another car. Immediately, Richie throws open the doors, calling out, “Mom!” and finds her in the kitchen, with his uncle.

“Hey sweetie, I just got home—“ she startles at the sight of him.

“Jeez, that bad?” he jokes, running a hand through his hair. “Just remember, mom, half of this is ‘cause of you.”

She approaches him quickly, summer blazer flowing behind her from the speed, and crouches down just slightly to be at eye-level. “Richie, honey, what did you do to your lip?” she asks. He doesn’t realize right away, but he tilts his head into her touch, and she strokes his cheek gently.

Richie had forgotten about the whole ordeal—his friends almost dying at the hands of a killer clown was pretty damn distracting from his low-life uncle—but now, he sets a spitting glare on the man leaning back and manspreading at their kitchen table.

“Uncle Alan had a few kind words to say over dinner the other night.”

Her tender touch to his face is lost when she whips around to face his uncle, and Richie feels like a little kid again, standing behind his mom and clutching at her coat while she takes care of everything.

“You hit him?” she says, her voice threatening in a low mumble, teeth clenched together. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You touched my kid?” She holds back a hand as though to shield Richie as she slams her other fist on the table.

“How do you know it wasn’t one of his faggy friends? Or maybe some other kid with common fucking sense?”

She leans down and takes him by the front of his shirt. “Don’t you dare, Alan. What the fuck were you thinking?”

Uncle Alan yells back in her face, spit flying, and Richie would jump forward to defend her if she weren’t holding him back so protectively (with one hand!). “Listen, Maggie, if he’s gonna act like that, I’m just preparing him for the real world.”

“You absolute shit! You don’t get to make that decision!” Richie has never, ever seen his mother so angry. “You battered a twelve year old boy! What, do you feel really big now, you pathetic piece of shit? Get the fuck out of my house!” At this point, she’s shaken him and thrown him back against the chair so he falls, catching himself just in time as it cascades to the ground.

“Fuck you, Maggie!”

She follows him down the hall.

“Fuck you!” Richie calls out at his retreating back, before his mother screams about pressing charges and slams the door behind him.

Richie’s mom rushes back into the kitchen to face him. She’s red in the face, eyes on fire, but she softens at the sight of him.

“Richie, sweetheart, I’m sorry we left you.” She cradles his face again. “Hey.” She holds him with both hands. “Listen. If anyone ever hurts you, you call me. If anyone ever so much as threatens you, Rich - ”

Richie, choked up, interjects, “I didn’t know the number, mom. I don’t know where the little paper you wrote it on is, I’m sorry—“

“It’s okay.” She looks at him for a few more moments, then swaddles him up in a big, mama bear hug. “I love you, kid. I hope you know that.”

“I love you too.”

For a few minutes, she just holds him, stroking his back while silent tears fall down his face and onto the chest of her shirt. She doesn’t seem to mind

It’s late. Richie doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he’s on top of the world.

He ends up at Eddie’s house, even though he knows they’re not talking and Eddie’s mom might kill him on sight, he has to see him. Mrs. K can go fuck herself.

Outside the boy’s bedroom window, he raps quietly with his knuckles, just about buzzing with a high, high feeling toward life. He can see Eddie lying in bed, struggling to prop up a book to read, lamplight cascading onto his skin - that is, until he hears Richie, and flies toward the window with a crazed look.

“What are you doing here?” Eddie asks, brows knitting together. “My mom will kill you if she hears you.”

That doesn’t matter so much to him at that moment. “Eddie!” He swings his legs over the banister and jumps into the room, adrenaline and something like love pushing him to lift Eddie to his chest and spin. “Eds, my mom came home early and she kicked that motherfucker out of my house!”

Eddie’s eyes are crazed from the spinning and he clings to Richie’s shoulder with his good hand; and he grins, a giggle caught in his lips. “That’s great, Richie. Fuck that guy.”

“Yeah, fuck him! And god Eddie, she - she protected me, and we just spent hours together, watching movies and making dinner like old times, and it was amazing, and - god, I know I sound like a dork, but I - ”

He pauses, mostly because he’s out of breath from machine-gunning a paragraph out of nowhere; but also because in his flustered state he didn’t register the sweet-cheeked smile that Eddie is currently melting him with.

But when he does, Richie thinks to himself: sure, blue eyes are great; they can be compared to the sky or the ocean or whatever other cheesy nature bit all goddamn day. But Eddie’s eyes - hell, he doesn’t care if he sounds like a cornball - they’re fucking amazing. They usurp all of that bullshit. He’s used to them when they’re blown wide in surprise, or holding him in a steely glare for some dumb joke, and he loves them then; but right now he catches a kind of tenderness hidden in the dark. Something that envelops him in warmth and pinks his cheeks.

Eddie takes the opportunity to pipe up. “Richie,” he says, “I’m really happy for you.”

He means it. Richie knows he means it, because for the last several days, he’s heard Eddie mumbling to himself somewhat privately about ‘that piece of shit,’ and right now he’s clutching Richie’s sleeve and smiling without a trace of mockery.

And he’s perfect.

His tousled hair that’s rustled from what looks to have been a constant stream of fingers, stressed over the book or his mom or god-knows-what; the oversized t-shirt he’s drowning in and short shorts and perfectly matched socks; and those shining eyes and friendly smile and soft fucking hands that hold all the electricity of Richie’s excitement - all perfect.

And Richie, Richie could just kiss him.

He doesn’t.

Mrs. K knocks at the door.

“Eddie bear, it’s time for your nighttime oils!”

Richie cracks a wise-ass smile. “Eddie bear, if I’d known you needed nighttime oils, well, I would have come prepared.”

“Get the fuck out,” Eddie says. The laughter catching on his lips tells another story.

Richie throws an utterly charming wink in his direction and crouches in the window, preparing to jump out and make his escape.

“Wait!” Eddie grabs the back of Richie’s t-shirt. “It’s cool that you stopped by. It’s - it’s been lonely in this hellhole. I might have gone insane if I thought you guys forgot about me.”

“Aw, I’d never forget you, cutie.” Richie, stomach twisting and turning, supports himself with his forearm on the outside of the window. “And, anyway, I gotta practice my Romeo somewhere, right?”

Eddie lets out a characteristic huff. “Whatever.”

It’s quiet, save for the distant tweeting crickets, and the scent wafting through the nighttime is intoxicating, and for the following moments the world reminds them to just breathe.

“You’re gonna miss curfew, Rich,” Eddie mumbles, leaning out the window on his elbows. And Richie hears it: you’re alone, you know what could happen. Stay safe.

“I’m not afraid, Eds.” He means it. Richie can’t draw up what fear even feels like right then. With a flick of an eyebrow, he nods toward the door. “Mother is waiting.”

“I know.” He smiles. “I’ll see you, Tozier.”

Richie, without any reservations (until he thinks back on it later), reaches out as though to pinch Eddie’s cheek, but instead, runs his thumb along Eddie’s cheekbone. “See ya, Eds.” He smiles. “I’m gonna get you out of here someday.”

Eddie shakes his head as Richie takes his hand away from Eddie’s newly red cheeks and makes his way back to the ground, muttering, “My hero.”

And Richie looks back with a grin at the silhouette of the dork in the window, saluting before taking off

It sucks when Beverly leaves.

It’s an early morning, red and orange hues breaking across the skyline like a cracked egg, and Richie, Stan, and Ben all gather around to watch her disappear off to the nearest airport, and then disappear from them forever. Though it’s not nearly as mopey and depressing as it could have been, it’s hard to watch her go; a warm energy follows her as she hugs them all goodbye, looking at them with her all-knowing, crooked little smile, rolling her eyes but expressing more love than any of them had ever known, and Richie knows she means every word of loving and missing that she says. And he knows he’ll miss her more than anything.

He does. Not much helps with the pain of missing someone, but as the days go by, pieces of her slowly slip from his mind, until finally she’s all gone

New Years offers promises of ‘new me’s and resolutions and maybe some kind of peace. And considering everything, it’s the saving grace Richie thinks he needs.

A chance to forget his uncle, the murderous clown that haunts his dreams, and his personal revelation that he loves Eddie Kaspbrak.

It didn’t ruin their friendship by any means, just made his cheeks flush and heart throb and his rebuttals come back stutter-y when Eddie merely smiled at him. It was stupid textbook puppy love. He never thought he’d fall for that.

And, he’s not gay. He can’t be, or he’ll have to pay the price.

It's just that Eddie is his best friend. They’re all best friends, but Eddie never really stopped engaging with his exhausting jokes like the others, when it was finally too much. Eddie always bickered back, he took the bait and bit back. Eddie took him home when he got hurt and cared for him and then went right back to fighting.

He loves Eddie the way he should love someone like Bev.

But it’s nothing.

The night is cutting, crisp with a fresh wintery bitterness, biting at Richie’s nose until it’s practically bleeding. To be fair, he’d opted to only wear one of his lighter jackets and some gloves, so it’s his own fault that his scalp is freezing over and he’s shaking on his way to the loser’s little spot in the meadow.

At least his friends are smart.

Stan sports a matching tartan hat and scarf, bundled up around his face so only the pinkish tip of his nose is poking out; Bill has a nice puffy coat and a hat with a bauble rested atop his head; Ben’s ushanka hat is wrapped tightly under his chin, and he waves at Richie with mittens keeping his hands warm; Mike is representing a lot of fleece, and he grins at Richie, shaking his head when he sees his lack of winter clothes; and then there’s Eddie, wearing a coat that has to be at least an extra large, and a knitted cap, bundled up so only his fussy eyes and nose are squinting out at Richie.

In Richie’s defense, he was running late, and he had sprouted a little bit in the last few months, so his previously comfortable winter coat was now tight and painful in the shoulders and chest. This jacket was his best option in the 30-second long window he had to get dressed and run out the door to attempt to be on time.

Stan levels a look at him, thoroughly appreciating his idiocy, and obviously not pitying his shaking form more than a quick flash of sympathy in his eyes; he cares, but Richie obviously brought this upon himself. The ensuing cold would be his own fault, and he’d call Stan to complain, just to grin quietly as the boy went on the calmest rant about how stupid he is and then hang up. It’s just how they worked.

Richie wonders if he’d tell a potential partner that they should have brought a coat to a date if they complained of the temperature. It’s beside the point, but amusing.

“C’mon man, you didn’t think about a scarf at least?” Mike says as a greeting, laughing a little bit as he removes his own and wraps it messily around Richie’s neck. In that moment, Richie would give up his life for this kid. The body heat/fleece combo immediately brings him back from the brink of a nosebleed.

“Richie doesn’t think, period.” Stan sticks his hands in his pockets and stares at him, ghosts of amusement playing on his cheeks.

Richie flashes his teeth in a big ol’ grin. “That’s pretty accurate, actually, I just wanted to be with you guys on time so badly, you know.”

Bill lets out a small, unenthused, “Aww.”

Richie simply chuckles and tries to wrap his fingers in Mike’s scarf to help with the inevitable hypothermia. Eddie winds up next to him in their gathering, sucking in a big breath through his nostrils and huffing out shortly.

He bumps Eddie’s arm with his elbow and says, “What’s up with you, Eds?”

Eddie nearly topples over from the size of the coat weighing him down, and he curses under his breath before standing back up and glaring at Richie. “You really didn’t wear a bigger coat, dumbass?”

“As you can see, no,” Richie chuckles.

Eddie presses his tongue into his cheek. “Well, you can share mine. It’s more than big enough.”

Oh.

Right, sharing a coat. That’s fine. No pressure or anything.

Richie aims for a cool response, some funny voice or smooth and subtle, and lands on, “Yeah, cool. Thanks.”

So, they share. And it’s pretty great.

Eddie unzips it and pulls Richie in, and they collaborate to pull it up and then Richie is pressed up against Eddie’s side, in public, already sweating even though he’s still cold because he doesn’t know if he can handle this.

Fortunately, they’re hidden by the dark, so maybe the boy or their friends won’t notice his red cheeks (or they’ll chalk it up to the cold) and the extra focus he has to place on acting normal. Because Eddie smells nicer than most boys their age, and he’s got a heart too big for his body, and Richie’s sure that Eddie loves him back in at least some way. It’s not just anyone that would get to be this close, squeezed into a coat with him.

Richie feels sick.

But the fireworks are starting, and they might be sparse and lackluster in the hell that is Derry, but each loser looks to the sky with love, with appreciation, in awe of the fact that something beautiful can apparently come from hell.

Barely, just barely, Eddie’s head falls against Richie’s shoulder as they gaze up into the inky black sky illuminated by cakes of fireworks, and he whispers, “Wow,” under his breath right next to Richie’s ear, and now Richie’s contemplating between the two possible causes of his death: he combusts, or he stops breathing - to be determined.

Richie begs the universe for advice in the ultimate predicament. And to his great relief, memories seep back into his brain; those of freckled cheeks, teeth balancing a cig as a mouth talks, and bundles of ginger curls bouncing as her head turns in his direction.

“Bev would love this.”

Riche catches the way Ben looks over at him pretty much immediately - at them, sharing body heat in Eddie’s coat - and then how the boy stares at the ground and mumbles a soft, “Yeah.” He looks back at Richie, holds his eye contact for a sweet, lingering moment, then gazes back at the sky, hopefully thinking of love as much as Richie is.

Bill, Mike, and Stan all follow, tearing their eyes away briefly to make quick eye contact with each other, and then Richie, and Eddie even shifts to look up at him, and they all smile wistfully as though the girl is there with them, snarky remarks and toothy smiles keeping them all afloat. Richie feels like he’s going to break open and cry enough to fill the whole universe, so he sniffles and looks back up at the sky, breaking the moment of magic.

But it remains with them.

It remains as they share this together, as they enter the new year together, promising hope for a happier future as long as they stick with each other.

And it remains as Eddie Kaspbrak takes his hand under the coat and murmurs, “Happy new year, Richie.”

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #it 2017 #fanfiction #fluff #angst #sharing a bed #pining #new years #summer #mine #gosh i hope this isnt too dorky sfhdgjhsdfg

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cheemerthelizard · 3 years

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Nothing Else Like it: Chapter 1

“So, Jojo really got himself in trouble this time, huh, Mom?” a young girl asked.

“Yes, he did,” Holly answered the girl, who had long, jet black hair, a short stature, and a school uniform on. “He’s in jail this time.”

“I thought the day would come soon,” the girl sighed. “I mean, I still feel bad for him, kind of, but at this point, he kind of deserves it.”

“Don’t say that!” Holly scolded. “He’s your brother, and he’s protected you from bullies before!”

“I don’t need his protection,” the girl answered nonchalantly. “I can survive on my own. And it’s his fault for beating up anyone who looks at him the wrong way.”

The two of them stayed silent for the rest of the car ride, until they got to the police station.

“Yes, Jotaro is definitely my son,” Holly told the police officers.

“And who’s this beside you?” one of the officers asked.

“This is Jotaro’s twin sister,” Holly answered, “Yo-”

“Thank you, Mom, but I can speak for myself,” the girl told Holly, bowing to show she meant no ill will with that statement. “My name is Yorokobi. Yorokobi Kujo.”

“Yorokobi, huh?” the officer said as they walked down the dark hallway. “Have you ever seen Jotaro get in fights before?”

“Oh, plenty of times,” Yorokobi chuckled. “I’m surprised it took this long for him to get in jail.”

“And what about you? Have you been in any fights?”

“Only if I’m provoked,” Yorokobi answered. “The police have arrived at some fights I’ve been in before, but all of them have been out of self-defense, so I haven’t been charged with anything.”

“You don’t look like the type to be able to beat someone up,” the other officer said.

“Don’t underestimate me just because I’m a girl,” Yorokobi growled.

“Anyway, your son is right down this corridor, and he’s free to go, since this was also in self-defense,” one of the officers told Holly. As soon as he said that, she dashed down to Jotaro’s cell, calling his name.

“Shut up!” Jotaro yelled. “You’re so annoying!”

“Okay!” Holly chimed.

After her answer, Jotaro laid back down on his bed and closed his eyes.

“Hey! Wake up, Jojo!” Yorokobi yelled. “The police are letting you out of jail. Let’s go home, alright?”

Jotaro looked over at Yorokobi, then looked away again. “Mom, Yorokobi, you’d best go home. I’m not leaving this cell for a while. I’ve been possessed by an evil spirit.”

Yorokobi paused, and took some time to comprehend what Jotaro had just said. When it finally settled in, she burst out in laughter. “That’s the worst joke anyone has ever told me!” she exclaimed. “Come on, just get out of there already.”

“You think I’m joking?” Jotaro asked. “It took all of my power to stop the spirit in that fight. I’m not letting it anywhere near you two.”

Yorokobi’s laughing got a little less hysterical, but she was still in tears. “You’re so awful at making jokes,” she wheezed. “It’s so bad that it’s funny.”

“Fine. If you don’t believe me, I’ll just have to show you.” Jotaro walked up to the cell bars, tossing his hat to the side. Yorokobi’s laughter halted completely.

“O… okay, Jojo, the joke has gone too far now,” she nervously chuckled. “It wasn’t funny, so just let it rest.”

Jotaro continued walking up to the bars, and stuck his hand out. From his hand, another purple, transparent hand extended further. It grabbed the gun from one of the officer’s holsters, and brought it to him.

“Jojo, y-you’re scaring me,” Yorokobi shivered. She grabbed onto Holly’s shirt.

“Good,” Jotaro replied. “Maybe you’ll take this spirit seriously, then.” He cocked the gun, and put it to his head.

“Jojo, stop!”

He fired the gun, but when it was pulled away, he was completely fine. The spirit dropped the bullet to the ground, and returned the gun to the officer.

“Like I said, there’s an evil spirit possessing me,” Jotaro said. “I’m not getting out of this cell until it leaves.”

Yorokobi looked to her mom, who was just as lost about what to do as her. They both slowly walked out of the cell room.

“What are we going to do?” Yorokobi asked her mother.

“I’m going to call your granddad for help,” Holly answered.

The next morning, Yorokobi and Holly went to the airport.

“Papa!” Holly called. She ran over to a burly man, with a thick, white beard and a brown coat.

“Holly!” he yelled. Both of them ran over to each other, and Yorokobi followed.

“Granddad!” she exclaimed. Both of them enveloped each other in a big hug.

“Hey there, Yorokobi!” Joseph laughed. “I missed you!”

“I missed you, too,” Yorokobi replied as she buried her face in his shoulder.

After their cheerful greetings, Joseph calmed down and lowered his voice. “So, you said Jotaro has been possessed by a ghost? And you could see the ghost?”

At those words, Holly broke down in tears again. “Oh, my poor, poor Jotaro. Yes. The officers said they couldn’t see it, but I clearly saw a separate hand.”

“And what about you, Yorokobi?”

“Yes, I saw it, too,” Yorokobi answered. “When he shot a gun towards his head, the spirit caught the bullet before it could hurt him.”

“But nothing has happened to either of you?”

Both girls shook their heads.

Joseph sighed. “Thank goodness. Well, don’t you worry about Jotaro. I’ll get him out of jail in no time.”

Holly insisted that Yorokobi stay home while she and Joseph went to try coaxing Jotaro out of his cell, much to her dismay. Instead, she was given the mundane task of watching over the house. Something about Jotaro’s spirit being “too dangerous” and she “might get in the crossfire between it and Avdol’s spirit.” A bunch of baloney that basically meant they were afraid she was faint of heart and would hate to see her dearest brother get beaten half to death.

No matter. She would just have to do some chores around the house. After all, there was a guest, and her mother would be very unhappy if the house was in its current state when he arrived to spend the night.

“I should make some food tonight, too,” Yorokobi said to herself. “I think some soup would be good.”

Before she knew it, everyone had arrived back home, including Jotaro, who was literally burned in some places.

“Did someone actually put up a fight against you, Jojo?” Yorokobi taunted. “Is your perfect win streak ruined now?” Jotaro and her had their fair share of sibling fights, but even she couldn’t beat him. It was nice to see him actually harmed for once.

“No, it was a draw,” Avdol answered. “I didn’t want to kill him, I just wanted to get him out of that cell.”

“And what about that ‘evil spirit’?” Yorokobi asked.

“It’s still there,” Jotaro shrugged. “Although it’s not an evil spirit, just a ‘Stand’ or whatever the old man called it.”

“Oh,” Yorokobi said. “Well, I made everyone some dinner while I was cooped up in the house instead of watching Jojo and Mr. Avdol fight,” she added, almost snarkily. “Eat up!”

Everyone grabbed a bowl, and started eating in silence.

“So, I’ve decided to tell you all right now, so Yorokobi will hear it, too,” Joseph said. “You see, there’s a reason why Jotaro’s Stand has appeared so suddenly. It has to do with some events that happened 100 years ago.”

He then proceeded to tell Holly, Jotaro, and Yorokobi all about his grandfather, Jonathan Joestar, his adopted brother, Dio Brando, the stone mask, the star birthmark, and Jonathan and Dio’s fight that would continue down for generations of Joestars to come.

“And now, Dio has taken over Jonathan’s body, using it as his own!” Joseph exclaimed. “And he won’t stop tormenting us until he’s defeated every last Joestar!”

Yorokobi nodded. “And how do we stop him?”

“Are you serious?” Jotaro asked. “I’m not going on a long trip just to find this guy, and you’re not either. We’ll let him come to us, if he’s that persistent on killing us.” He took another bite of soup, using his Stand to bring the spoon up to his mouth.

“Good idea,” Yorokobi replied.

After her input, the table went back to the sounds of chewing.

“You like it, don’t you?” Yorokobi asked Jotaro.

“I never said that.”

“But you haven’t criticized it at all, either,” she smirked. “The more you like what I make, the less you criticize every little detail. When you’re completely silent, it means you love it.”

“Sorry, I didn’t realize you had a degree in not minding your own business,” Jotaro retorted. “Let me eat my food in peace.”

Yorokobi hmphed, but did nothing more.

“Not you too, Yorokobi!” Joseph whined. “You and your mother need to have more of a spine and stand up to Jotaro!”

“Oh, I’m not finished standing up to him,” Yorokobi shrugged. “I just have different ways of fighting back. I knew he was going to say something like that to me tonight, so I snuck a little surprise into his bowl.”

“Something spicy?” Joseph asked.

“Something electrifying,” Yorokobi grinned.

Suddenly, the soup in Jotaro’s bowl started to make a huge bubble right in the middle. Around it was an electric yellow glow. When the bubble completely fit in the bowl, it popped, spewing soup all over Jotaro’s face. Yorokobi doubled over in laughter.

“Serves you right!” she cackled.

Joseph stood back in awe. “Yorokobi… how did you do that?” He had a feeling he knew what it was, but he wanted to make sure.

“I don’t know, really,” she answered through small giggles. “I’ve just had this power since I was little.” Yorokobi sent a little spark through her arm. “Mom said you had it, too.”

Joseph started giving a hearty laugh, and hugged Yorokobi tightly. “My granddaughter is a Hamon user!” he exclaimed. “I thought I was the last one.”

“Yeah, and she’s used it to inconvenience me for the majority of her life,” Jotaro mumbled.

“Oh, don’t act like you didn’t punch me for it!” Yorokobi snapped.

“I’ll punch you right now for splattering me with soup!”

“Jotaro! Yorokobi!” Holly exclaimed. “Settle down!”

“Yes, Mom,” Yorokobi muttered. Her shoulders slumped. Jotaro huffed and snapped his head away from Yorokobi, but did nothing more. Both went to their rooms and closed the door.

“They’re actually really sweet most of the time, I promise,” Holly told Joseph and Avdol. “They love each other very much. It’s just… you know how siblings are.”

Both men nodded. “Well,” Joseph shrugged, “they have a point about not pursuing Dio. After all, if he wants us dead that much, he’d either give us a reason to hunt him down or come hunt us down.”

“I think we should stay here, just in case Dio has any plans to do either of those,” Avdol advised.

“I was thinking the same thing,” Joseph smiled. “Well, Holly, if you need anything, we’ll be in the guest room, wherever it is.”

Then, after a couple of hours, the house was dark, and everything was quiet.

Except for Yorokobi tossing and turning in her bed.

“Out of all nights, it had to be tonight,” she whispered to herself. “I have a test in the morning, too.”

“Hey.”

Yorokobi jumped. “Jojo? What are you doing in my room?”

“With my new Stand, it’s easy for me to hear when your insomnia is really bad,” he murmured. “You know you have medicine for that.”

“I’m on the medicine,” Yorokobi grumbled. “It’s not working. Again.”

Jotaro sighed. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to stay with you until you fall asleep.”

Yorokobi gave him a knowing smile.

“If anyone figures out about this, I’ll kill you.”

“I got it, I got it,” Yorokobi chuckled. “Wouldn’t want anyone figuring out that Jotaro Kujo actually has a soft spot, or anything.” She paused for a moment, then continued talking. “So, what are you going to do about…” she waved her hands in his general direction, “that guy?”

“Ignore him, probably,” Jotaro shrugged. “It seems like he’s only good for fighting, and last time he helped me, I went to jail, so I should probably not use him.”

“You should give him a name.”

“What a dumb, childish idea. No.”

“I’m not referring to him as ‘that guy’, or ‘my brother’s Stand’. If you don’t give him a name, I will.”

“If I give it a name, I’ll grow attached. I don’t want this thing.”

“Then I’ll grow attached for you. Hi there, Toto!”

“Toto? Like the band? That’s the stupidest name I’ve ever heard.”

“Okay, what name ideas do you have?”

Jotaro remained silent for a while, then grumbled, “I’m not naming him anything.”

“Then Toto it is.”

“I’m going to bed.”

“Wait!”

Jotaro stopped walking away.

“Please.”

“No.” He continued going back to his room. “Plus, you’re actually starting to look tired. I don’t want to keep you up even longer.”

Jotaro was right. . Yorokobi was finally settling down. Her eyes were getting droopy, and she couldn’t focus on talking as much as when she was awake.

“Goodnight, Yorokobi.”

“Night, Jojo.”

#jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #oc #oc insert #sdc #stardust crusaders

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litcratura · 3 years

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WITHIN KINGDOMS COLLIDE—chapter one

Author note : this probably wont happen a lot but this is the first chapter already. This will contain more information on the characters! I hope you will enjoy this

Trigger warnings: talk of death, strong language, cursing, and coughing

Wordscount: 2598 words

@drxmaqceen

She slept for what felt like hours, yet she was awoken by the gentle touch of one of the maids. “My lady, I have brought you bread and some meat.” The woman said sweetly. She looked around 24. Allison sat up to indeed see a silver platter with bread and meat. It looked incredibly tender and Allison felt her mouth water almost immediately. There was a small glass on the plate. Filled with the finest sea salt. “Thank you, you can leave now” Allison spoke kindly . she ate the bread, tearing of pieces and dipping it into the salt. As well as the tender meat. That ripped off just by her fork.she ate for a moment in silence. Still not truly comprehending that she was now in the land of kind Laoghaire.

She then heard a knock and looked up. “yes?” She asked as the door opened. Arya opened the door. She had changed her white gown for a ed one. It made her look beautiful and fierce. And they were her father; the true king his colours. “I made you a dress. A while ago; I knew you were coming. I hope they fit. I heard that you preferred simple gowns.” She held up a beautiful light blue gown. There was a corset with it too. Floral and beautiful. There were green and blue embroideries. “It Is really beautiful Arya” she got up and touched the soft fabric of the dress. “I can help you into it after you’ve had a bath” Arya suggested. Allison gave a nod as she unclothed herself. Her back carried flowers. Most of them were closed and pink. Others were open and carried all the colours of the rainbow. They were a mark of her fertility. A mark most people didn’t even know existed cause she hid them magically. The bath was nice and warm. Taking care of this eternal cold she felt inside. She scrubbed her body. Taking care of the dirt that was sticking to her skin. She washed her red curls that always popped out more when her hair was wet.

As she got back into her main chambers Arya helped brushing her hair. Taking care her clothes were on and all in place. The corset Arya had made her didn’t push against her skin as hard as the other corsets had. The corset laid beautifully on her chest and despite her curves now being visible they were covered regardless. “I love it” Allison said—looking into the mirror. Her hair as orange as it was fell into a beautiful curls on her shoulders. Yet the back had been pinned and clipped with a butterfly clip. So it was half up and half down. Her eyes were like gold which fit with the embroidery in the corset as well. “Thank you, Arya” Allison said and hugged the princess.”now we must go downstairs. The king wants to meet you and so does Lady Thorne” Arya took Allison her arms.

There were so many stairs and steps that she felt like she would never get used to them. Though this dress wasn’t half as heavy as the ones she wore at home had been; this castle was a lot bigger than her own home had once been. It was a lot darker despite there being so many windows. It seemed as if the king did not enjoy light inside his castle and there for kept all the windows closed. The ones that were open had beautiful stained glass with the colours green and bronze. As well as some blue. “The queen used to be from the north” Arya explained. Ophelia Thorne as well had been a beautiful woman. Strong. She had had a sister and had only come to the castle to assist with healing. A job her mother Agnes had already taken. But the king fell in love with her. More than he had once loved his almost wife. Who nobody knew the name of. After she and the king had married they had had the twin brothers Tristan and Calum. And she had passed away when the twins were eight. Of an unknown illness. Allison had never known the woman had been from her home. “So that explains the blue” Allison muttered as Arya nodded. The great hall was lit with just candles. It had a long wooden table in the middle of it. With places to seat 18 people. The king sat at its head.

Sebastian Laoghaire wasn’t necessarily unattractive. He was a bald man with deep blue eyes. His arms muscular. He sat straight and with stature. He was a charismatic man; Allison had to give him that. “Lady Chevron. You grew up beautifully” the king stood up. Standing he had to be almost two metres tall. He bowed for the girl and she returned the bow. “It’s a shame I already married off my boys” the man said in an almost believable way. Yet she knew he wouldn’t even think of her as high in status. He got closer to the girl and kissed her on the cheek. “You will be a healer correct?” “Yes your grace” remind him of his status; she had been told many times. He didn’t like people doubting his being of a king. “Too bad you weren’t going to be a whore.. you would’ve done better” Sebastian said harshly. Allison took a goblet of wine and smelled it before drinking the wine fast. “It was a pleasure to meet you Allison. Now go” the king demanded. And so she left.

“Where are his sons?” Allison asked Arya as Arya whisked her away to Agnes her office. “There is going to be a war soon. They are training on fields for three weeks. Your brother is there as well” “Riley? But he never said goodbye” this seemed to hit the girl hard in her chest. Her brother promised to protect her; and now he wasn’t even here. “Its just a training. Besides your father has the best soldiers after all, he will return before you know it Allison. And he will be back this evening already. The three weeks are done” that’s why there had been a rush. Allison held her skirts walking up another of stairs. “Why is there going to be a war? And with who?” Allison never could help these questions. They often escaped her mouth before she could even stop them. “There is a man in a city close by and…Sebastian is sure he will start a war. So they’ll fight before the others can attack” she explained as best as she could. Which made Allison shake her head in an almost annoyance.

The office of the healer smelled of herbs and spices. An older woman; her hair was turning gray. She had a few wrinkles yet as soon as the door opened fully she looked up. “Is that Allison Chevron?” She asked. Putting down her herbs as she wiped her hands clean on the apron she wore. “Agnes” Allison smiled. It had been years since Allison had seen Agnes but she felt like a grandmother to her. Agnes hugged the girl as she smiled. “You will be a fine healer. I can see that in your eyes.’ Agnes said and then doubled over coughing. Yet held up her hand. “Just old age dearest. I am fine” she reassured the girl. Whose eyes were big with worry almost immediately. “Now how would you treat a common cold” “Eucalyptus, mint, honey. Put it into a tea. Maybe a spell for fast healing but that’s only if the cold is severe. And some lavender for rest.”Agnes nodded and handed her an apron before looking up at Arya. “Do you want to help, dearest?” Arya shook her head. “I have to get back to sowing. And I might go on a walk, but thank you Agnes” Arya assured her as Agnes just gave her a sweet nod.

Allison boiled the water and made her first potion; one against the common cold. Like her mother had taught her she wrote it down in her leather notebook. With small drawings of each herb. And of what container to best keep it in. This went into a small round bottle. Sealed with yarn. It was good for about two weeks. She made seven jars and put them in her own little chest. It was a wooden one that had her name carved into it. Agnes had helped her. Telling her how long each herb should boil before it would properly work. She kept small notes of this before the afternoon was done. First returning to her own chambers when Arya walked into her room again. “Are you excited tor the feast?” Feast? She hadn’t heard of a feast. The confusion must have been readable on her face because Arya let out a small chuckle. “Because the princes are returning there will be a feast. And because I know you don’t like maids I thought we would get dolled up together” Arya said kindly. Allison nodded and just looked at Arya. “Are you excited to see your husband again?” Allison asked her curiously. Arya immediately nodded. Smiling from ear to ear. “I always miss him when he goes away again to train. But the full moon fell between the training so he had to go. He had to take care that nothing would go wrong” “so it is true? The king—“ “Don’t finish that sentence, but yes, it is true” Allison her eyes widened at those words. She couldn’t believe a father would actually do that to his own children. “But tonight they will return. And there will be music. Maybe you will find someone to dance with” Arya suggested. Allison let out a small laugh. “My lady I will not dance with anyone; I’ll bash their toes” Arya sighed annoyed and undid Allison her corset. “I brought you a new dress. Its darker blue with gold. Much more fitting for dinner” “What will you be wearing?” “A dark green dress. My husband loves the colour on me and I usually wear it when he returns” she said as she showed the two dresses.

Allison had never changed as much in a day as she had done now. She usually wore one dress and it usually was less luxurious than what she was wearing now. The nights here were colder too so the silk was a bit more thick. The corset revealed her breasts just a bit more but not as much as the other ladies their breasts were revealed. Her hair was now completely down yet she had a small diadem in her hair. Not a crown but it was beautiful. It had blue flowers made of glass and silver, “you look like royalty. Just like you are. You have a beautiful bodyAllison; no shame to show it off sometimes” Arya told her seriously. Her green dress was even more define. The dress was green with bronze and silver embroidery. It revealed her breasts but not in a way that would make her look like a hooker allison thought. She actually truly looked like a princess. “Your husband won’t be able to take his eyes or hands off of you” Arya chuckled and went “that’s entirely the point Allison.”

They waited outside together. The night was clear and the stars glittered in the sky like small diamonds. Or glitters. For a moment Allison was reminded of home. The way the scars glittered there too. A small shiver went down her spine when she heard the kings footsteps behind her. These big and heavy footsteps. she didn’t hate the king but she wasn’t fond of him either. He looked around and then stood before them. Waiting for his puppets. Allison watched as at least hundreds of men marched their way forward. Some on horses; some just walking. The princes sat in the front. Tristan Laoghaire was a tall man; he used to be a lot more slender but ever since he trained his muscles were quite big. He had long ink black hair and his eyes were focused on return home. His horse too was black. He had a scar on his eyebrow. And besides him his brother rode. He had a white horse. He was a bit smaller than tristan yet was just as masculine. He rode faster yet had to keep himself in. His hair was a kind of brown that looked a bit red in the light of fire. Some said he looked a lot like his mother had once looked. And then they all halted before the king. Riley was walking. He had dirt all over his arms yet he seemed quite immune with himself. The king and Tristan exchanged words and everyone was ordered back inside.

Inside it smelled define. Like warm meats and good vegetables. Like foods that carried spices with them. There were more fires burning inside. Allison turned to Arya “what did Tristan tell Sebastian?” “That they’d all bathe before joining the feast” she explained as she pointed to a chair. “Your brother will be on your left and Calum on your right. Next to the king.” She said as Allison nodded. Yet everyone remained standing until the army got to the table. And everyone clapped for their warriors. Even if it had just been training; they would be their protectors. Their guiders. Tristan got to his wife and kissed her as Calum got to his chair and turned to Allison. “It has been a long time, Allison” Calum said and kissed her hand. Tristan then looked to the table and clapped his hands. “Sit and eat” there were more tables to seat all soldiers. Yet on the main table the important people were seated. Allison didn’t count herself as important. She was after all just going to be a healer. “We found someone on the training field. A white wolf” Riley told Allison. “A female and up until she saw you she was wailing and howling, wasn’t she Calum? Riley asked. Calum nodded as he ate some of the chicken. “You could’ve told me about the training earlier you know” Allison argued her brother who laughed a bit. “You were barely ready yesterday, besides I trained at home all the time” Allison couldn’t argue her brother on this as she put some mashed potatoes on her plate.

After the feast people danced and laughed. Most soldiers drank as if they hadn’t been able to in months. Tristan and Arya disappeared after 20 minutes to do whatever they went off to do. And Allison stood in the corner; holding her goblet. Eventually she felt a hand on her shoulder. Her hand bawling already yet she then heard “you want to see the wolf?” Riley asked her. The nod she gave was fast. The wolf was a family symbol but not just that; it was her favourite animal.

They walked to Riley his chamber. His room had his weapons stacked onto the wall, and the wolf sat in the middle of the room. As soon as she saw Allison she walked over to her. Allison kneeled and pet the wolf her fur. “She seems a lot calmer with you, she almost bit me and she bit Calum in his hand” “Did Calum take care of it?” Allison asked. Still petting the wolf. “Soldiers don’t take care of things unless forced to. And otherwise they’ll accept a lost limb” Riley said seriously. “Her name shall be Lyall.”Allison interrupted. “And she is mine”

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sbwriel-cymraeg · 4 years

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Eddie Kaspbrak deserved better.

Let me start with this. IT, written by Stephen King, made into a movie in 2017 and then another in 2019, about a clown with a big forehead, who likes dining on children, and gets his ass kicked by a group of teenage misfits (and then again when said misfits are just about past their midlife crisis). It's a horror, it's creepy and it's gross, now you see, I don't do horrors. I'm an absolute wuss. I can't even walk into a creepy abandoned building without a plank of wood in my hand for protection, and at least two people on either side of me who would obviously be kidnapped first (and that gives me enough time to scream and run away). Anyway, I don't like horrors. So you can probably guess that there was no way in hell, or earth, that I would be watching something that involved a terrifying monster who drools as much as a bulldog (he should seriously get that checked). No way I was going to read the book, as much as I love reading, and wouldn't even consider the original from the 90s although the 90s rules the movie scene (don't argue, we all know Jurassic Park is the best movie of all time). But the thing was, I have a friend, and he can be very persuading (in the form of pizza and snacks) and also, I'm a huge McAvoy fan, and James Ransone, I've never seen that guy before but well, when I saw him in the trailer, hello handsome. And don't get me started on Bill Hader, man do I fancy that bloke... Anyway I'm going off topic. So blah blah, we end up sitting down one night, with our buffet and many cups of tea, and weirdly, we start watching IT Chapter 2 first, because he wanted to see it since it was new. I go into it with no bloody clue what was going on, who was who, why parents would let their kid out in the rain by themselves, or how nobody noticed a load of bodies leaking out of the sewer. I was asking alot of questions. But, here's the thing. Onto the whole point of this rant. Eddie Kaspbrak. Eddie Spaghetti. Eds. The cute, little, angry man who instantly caught my attention (not just by the fact that Mr Ransone is a handsome S.O.B). From the moment he sped down the road in his posh jeep, yelling at other drivers (I feel your pain Eds) to crashing said posh jeep because he was distracted by a phone call (bad Eddie!) He instantly stole my 28 year old, attracted to dark and handsome older men, heart. Of course, I had no clue about these characters, all I saw was cute, angry man, funny dork with glasses, red headed lady, that guy from New Zealand, man who lasted five seconds, handsome librarian, and Professor X, and of course that clown that lives in the drain. So, as the movie went on, Eddie became my number one (Richie following behind in second). I learnt all about him from my friend, and more about him during the film, and couldn't help but feel sorry for the little bastard. He had a wife that I could tell he didn't love who treated him like doodoo, as a kid his dearest mom was overprotective, controlling and gave him freaking placebos to make him think he was ill (the fuck Mrs K?), that made him so nervous about getting sick and paranoid beyond belief, and I mean, his job wasn't the most exciting. Not to mention he has anxiety worse than a nun in a whore house, and was obviously afraid the most out of the group. And then, AND THEN, the film decides to drop some hints about Richie. Ah, dearest Richie, who has perfect taste in men. He's in love with Eddie. In. Freaking. Love with him. You could tell by the way he was so protective of him, constantly made fun of him (we all know that's how dudes get their crushes attention) and of course, R + E. So, of course, nearing the end of the movie, there's me grinning like an idiot, having the thought of Eddie and Richie getting out of the final fight untouched, Richie declaring his undying love for his Eddie Spaghetti, Eddie admitting his feelings for his Trashmouth, getting a kiss in there, Eds declaring he was divorcing him moth- sorry, wife, and the two walking into the sunset to start a new life together, in a nice cottage in the hills, getting married, having three kids, five dogs, ten cats, and living happily ever after. But then, my hopes and dreams were shattered. Stephen, I'm looking at you. They killed Eddie. THEY KILLED EDDIE! EDDIE! Out of all the FREAKING characters they could have booted off, they chose Eddie the rage monster, the little man with a big personality, the least deserving to freaking die in my opinion. Stephen, how could you? How could you?! Why did he have to die? Why did they have to end his life that way? Why couldn't he have a happy ending like the rest of the Losers? Not including Richie of course. Oh no, they didn't just fuck Eddie over, they also fucked over Richie. Killing the love of his life, right after he saves him, bleeding all over his big ass glasses, calling his name softly, looking at him with his big, brown eyes. Yep, Richie probably went home after the Kissing Bridge and thought about Eddie every damn day of his life. But no, they didn't just kill Eddie, oh no no, they went a step further. They left his body to rot in the sewers. Yes Andy, I'm glaring at you, you evil, evil man. They didn't take the route that Mr King took in his book, or from the original IT movie (yes I watched that later on too) no, Mr A decided to have Eddie die all alone whilst the Losers finished off Pennywise, then have Richie go back and see his dead body, freak out and have hope that they can save him, hug him tight, and not let him go. And then, oh boy, and then, they have Mike and Ben literally FORCE Richie off of Eddie, and DRAG him out of the sewers. WITHOUT EDDIE. I'm sorry Mr Andy, but tell me, how could they, Eddie's best friends, the ones who were always there for him, who they loved and adored, leave Eddie there in the sewers, all alone, in the dark, dirty, graveyard that would have had Eddie crying at the thought? It didn't make ANY sense to me. If Ben and Mike had the strength to drag a struggling, six foot something Richie away from Eddie, then surely they could have picked Eddie up between them, and got him out of there. If I was Richie, I would have decked the lot of them, Losers or not. And that's where I got pretty darn mad. Eddie didn't deserve that shit. For one, he didn't deserve to die. And two, he didn't deserve to be left down there, to slowly decay. He should have been pulled out by his friends, Richie could have had a moment with him, Eddie could have been given a funeral where his friends, and especially Richie could have said goodbye. Then, they'd have had somewere where they could memorialise him, go back and place flowers and silly things like inhalers and red shorts on his headstone, have a get together and remember him and talk to him, somewhere where Richie could always go to, knowing that Eddie was put to rest properly, and somewhere were he could sit and cry to himself, remembering all the fucking good times they had as kids and how god damn hard he fell for the crazy little shit. But, nah, we'll just leave him in the sewers, under a collapsed house, somewhere the Losers wouldn't want to visit again, somewhere they can't have a funeral, can't put Eddie to rest, somewhere that has too many bad memories and would remind everyone of how exactly Eddie lost his life. So yeah, you can say I'm pretty mad about all of that. I know he's a fictional character, but damn, he didn't deserve that shit. Neither did Richie. And to make it worse, when I watched the first movie afterwards, Eddie was just as freaking hilarious, and ridiculous as his older self. Little Eddie was a force to be reckoned with, he was definitely still my favourite even as a kid. The dude who played him, huge kudos to him. How could you not like tiny Eddie? It also showed me a lot more about how Eddie grew up, by that I mean how his mother really did treat him, and boy did I hate the fact that he died even more! So yeah, I may have gone off on one a tad... I couldn't help myself, Eddie Kaspbrak has now got a big place in the fictional character side of my heart. Just goes to show just how much actors can make an impact on people's lives, and how real they make them seem! So, I've said my part, and it's pretty obvious what I think about the ending to Mr Spaghetti's story. Encase you didn't get how I feel about it, it sucked. Eddie Kaspbrak should have lived. Should have had a second chance, especially with Richie! Not all movies follow the ending of books, so why did this one have to? Why did Ben and Redhead get to have a happily ever after and Richie and Eddie didn't? Why didn't they at least make his death meaningful and give him the send off he deserved? In other words, Eddie deserved better. That should be the motto of the movie. That's me signing off, I'm going to go be mad somewhere else, because I'll never get over this movie. I'm a huge fan now, but man, the ending was as bad as Bill's endings. Oh and uh, fuck you Pennywise. Oh, also, if anyone's going to Wales Comic con this Saturday (you should, because James Ransone will be there, I know right, what are the chances?) come say hi. I'll be dressed in a yellow raincoat and green wellies, holding a red balloon... Don't ask why, I just like the colours. See you later, Losers.

#Eddie Kaspbrak #it #James Ransone #Richie tozier #it chapter 2 #reddie

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noonaduck · 5 years

Text

SeXd (Sex ed) 2nd Bonus

Pairing: BTS OT7 x reader genre: Fluff,smut,slight angst, non idol Au Warnings: angst Words: 1347 A/N: Jimin’s pov from the part 7 events. Summaray: Y/N is a woman who is inexperienced in anything when it comes to relationships and sex. Luckily her friend Jimin along with his six other friends decide to show her what she has been missing.

Msg me or send ask if you want to be tagged. I won’t tag you if you ask in comments. SeXd m.list 7. < 2nd bonus > 8. coming soon.

[gifs belongs to their rightful owners]

“I never thought that you would be such a slut Y/N.” Slut,slut, slut.....The hurtful words were still spinning on Jimin's head. He knew that he hasn't been fair and quilt was eating him alive. Jimin had felt so helpless watching how one by one his friends showed attraction towards Y/N and only logical thing to do was to call her slut, not really. Jimin had wanted to push Y/N away from his friends but instead he has done the opposite. She had run away from him and straight to his friends. he couldn't blame her after all Jimin has screwed up. Jimin had started to avoid Y/N first after when he saw her with Jin and Namjoon on the night of his performance. They looked so good together, both men were handsome on their outfits and Y/N looked so happy with her rosy cheeks standing right in front of him. Jimin wanted that he was the only one who could make her face glow like that. He wasn't blind for Y/N's attraction towards him and he had decided to ignore her feelings in sake of both of them. Jimin did not want to lose a good friend or hurt her feelings with straight rejection. Instead he had made clear how big his sex game was. Every time he talked about his flings he could see hurt under the curiosity which the girl was presenting to his stories. When Jimin made Y/N ran away from the storage something sifted inside of him. Guilt, unbelief, pain and love? Could he really love her? Jimin slides along the wall ,which he was leaning against, and hits the ground. When first sobs leaves his lips he can't believe himself. How he can be so stupid, so naive? he had always taken Y/N as granted, like a little puppy who runs after it's master. He was wrong, Y/N was so much more. He felt that their roles has turned reversed at some point and he was now the lost puppy licking his wounds. When his eyes kept watering and tears running along his face Jimin bites hist fist to keep quiet. When his sobs finally dies he takes his phone out with shaky hands and picks Taehyung's number. After few short beeps he answers.

'Tae I fucked up.“ Jimin blurs without even saying hello.

’'So I have heard.” His friend's answer is short and said with displeased voice.

“What I can do to fix this?” Jimin asks with raspy voice from crying.

“What you think you should do?” Taehyung's voice softens after hearing Jimin's voice, he has clearly been crying.

“Fuck, I don’t know. All I know is that I can’t lose her.” Jimin is feeling hopeless.

“Then Jimin you should tell that to her.’' Taehyung tells like its the most oblivious thing in the world and well, maybe it is. ''I'm afraid that she won't listen to me.'' Taehyung chuckles now amused. ''To be honest if I was her I wouldn't either. You acted really shitty after all.'' ''Did Y/N speak to you?'' ''No. Jin's friend picked her up crying from the street and called Jin, who told the situation for the rest of us. We all have been involved with Y/N in a way or another and hearing what you did, well let's just say that you aren't in good books right now. And Jimin it might be too late already.'' Taehyung ends the call without goodbyes. Jimin can't say that he deserved one anyway. Jimin is snappy towards his coworkers for rest of the day and when someone makes the mistake of speaking to him he is ready to bite their head of. He sees Jungkook briefly who has came to pick Y/N's belongings and it seems that he isn't in the loop of the events yet. Jimin is sure that he will be soon enough. When Jungkook greets him, Jimin just glares his angrily and keeps walking leaving confused Jungkook behind. When he is finally able to get home he feels grateful that Jungkook isn't there. Jimin heads straight towards his room,more specially to his bed, planning to sleep the rest of the night away when he almost trips over something. A old worn shoe box is peeking under his bed and Jimin kneels in front of it. It must be a sign. With nervousness Jimin pulls the box completely out under his bed and opens it with insecure hands. Picture of him and Hannah is like a slap against his face. They are so young and smiling happily towards the camera. Jimin takes the picture to his hand and sees another one where he is with Hannah sitting next to her hospital bed. In this picture Hannah looks almost the same still in the beginning of her treatments. There is third photo where Hannah is alone, her skin is lost all of its color and the skin is tight on her bones. Hannah's hair has fallen of and small smile is covering her lips despite of her state. When a drop of water falls on the picture Jimin blinks surprised he had started to cry again. Jimin lets shaky inhale out and wipes his face. He puts the pictures on the floor and reaches finally towards the envelope which has turned yellow because effects of time. To my dearest Jimin, never stop smiling. Even the words on top of the envelope are almost too much. Jimin's hands are still shaking when he turns the envelope around and finally rips it open. Dear Jimin, If you are reading this the cancer has beaten me. Even tough I know that you will be crying I still beg that you don't. I told my mother to give this letter to you when I'm gone so I can comfort you at least in someway even when I'm at present. I know that some lame words aren't same as those spoken against one's face but I'm still going to try. I remember how we met, you almost hit me with your bike. You were in such a hurry to play some new video game at your friend's home. Everything was so easy back then, I wasn't aware of my illness and the most cute guy almost ran over me by his bike. Odd thing to be happy about, I know, but because of that I was able to meet you. Because of you I fell in love for the first time and I spend my happiest times alongside of you. Sometimes I think that the heaven was jealous of me and how happy I was and that's why it gave me the cancer. Still I would take thousand times of these pains to be able to meet you and spend time together. My love, even tough we were never meant to last we were meant to be. I hope that one day you meet someone who can be your new world, like you were once to me. When that person comes don't run or hide and instead never let them go. I love you, forever yours, Hannah

Hannah's letter was full two papers long and Jimin could see the parts where Hannah's hand was shaking when she was writing or where she had added too much pressure and her pen had broken. Hannah was always been way too wise and mature for a girl of her age and it was clearly visible in her letter. When Jimin was mourning his loss and pushing everyone away Hannah had seen hope and happiness in the times the had spend. She was happy for what she had and Jimin was broken for what he had lost. He could not lose you too. He wished that someone would have punched him earlier straight to his face to wake him up. Even his first love was giving him advice to not to be afraid of loving someone and it was all he had ever been. Jimin squeezes the letter in his hands and gets up from the floor determination in his mind. He knew that he had to make things right or at least try before it was too late.

Tags: @lylanie12 @hopeivx @vannilacake @mina-messed-up @lonely-hufflepuff @soularbangtan @all289854 @hobitoons @vanessalovesonedirection @bbjel @doki-do-ki @yoongleskitten @chaitaewithkookies @hellosweety94 @exochanyeoltao @brokencrownqueen @hitit-thesecond-audition @kookiemonstersugatea @treetops68 @mylittlestrangeandsweetworld @lanu-la @d-noona @serendipity-secrets @recs-by-raamish @jojolovesbangtan @fanficreblogaaaa @creepysweet @elpanvibe @kassandravictoria @kpoppower @golddaengguk @barbikatherine @hisunshiine @nosnakeuthankyou

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ansgar-martinsson · 4 years

Text

The Best Intentions - Part 22

“Oh, that,” he said, glancing at his right shoulder as he sat back against the chaise. “That’s nothing.”

She chuckled sardonically. “Feels more like something.”

Ansgar’s muscles trembled for a split second at her touch on the sensitive, raised and smooth skin, in spite of the barrier of his linen shirt between. He covered her exploratory hand with his, stilling her.

“Tell me. Please.” she implored.

He squeezed her hand, but did not pull it away from his ruined arm. “I nearly lost everything that day,” he began. “My brother, my own life, and I thought, when I came out of it all… I thought I’d never play piano again,” he smiled sadly, “as cliche’ as it sounds.”

“What happened?” She shifted on the chaise, her legs still over his thighs, but she curled up beside him, replacing her hand on his arm with a pillowing of her head. “Tell me as much or as little as you want.”

He took a deep breath. “I trusted her, trusted this… person,” he sneered, “with my company. She was the director of finance, so… in charge of the money, of the financial direction of my company. And well, she got greedy, decided that… for whatever reason I wasn’t living up to her expectations as a CEO, I don’t know, but whatever it was, she… well, let’s just say she attempted to defraud me out of a lot of money. And beyond that,” he paused, swallowing down a wave of renewed anger, a reminder of the fury and furious ire he’d felt years ago. He took a heavy breath and squirmed, suddenly uncomfortable.

“It’s okay,” Joline whispered, placing her warm hand gently upon his cheek. “You don’t have to – “

“No,” Ansgar clipped, licking and wiping his lips. “It’s in the past. I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

He nodded, a small, tight-lipped smile crossing his face.

“Can you continue?”

“Yeah,” he huffed, and then took a deep breath. “She arranged for… no, that’s not right… she outright murdered my VP of field ops - a very good friend of mine. Murdered him so that she could pocket the proceeds of a key employee insurance policy she took out – and she took it out in my name, with my bank account information and a mockup of my signature.” He chuckled mirthlessly. “And when the police investigated it, of course the motives all pointed back to me. She not only tried to ruin my business, not only took the life of someone close to me, but she tried to frame me for it.”

“Shit, Sgar.”

“Yeah. Shit. Shit is right. Anyway, long story short, we… meaning Magnus and I - he was still a detective at the time, and he was on the case - we caught up to her. Figured it all out. She didn’t like that, not one bit, so she shot my brother in the shoulder but not before she ran me off the road. My car, well, Magnus’ car with me driving it, flipped three times before I landed in the median off the E4. Pretty spectacular, really. Ball of flame and the whole nine yards.” He grinned, but the smile did not reach his fiery eyes.

“Oh my God!” She gasped and covered her mouth with a shaking hand. Her eyes went wide and her brow furrowed in concern. A coating of saline appeared over her irises, sluicing down to form a single tear from the canthus of her right eye. “Ansgar….”

“I’m fine now, obviously,” he said. “I somehow managed to walk out of the wreckage, but not unscathed. Two broken ribs.” He lifted his ruined shoulder. “And that. Compound fracture of the humerus and a dislocation that they couldn’t reduce in the ED. Worst pain I ever felt in my entire life. Had three surgeries on that puppy. I could barely lift my arm for months. Spent nearly a year and a half in physio before I could move my fingers properly or even lift that hand to the piano again.”

“Wow,” she huffed.

“Yeah,” he said. “I can’t go very long without playing, so it drove me a little mad for a while. A friend of mine told me about this episode of an American TV show where the chaplain in an army base told a wounded soldier about this piece composed for one hand. I did some research, and found a few pieces - Prelude Opus 9 by Scriabin, one by Ravel, and some by a more modern composer called Theodore Edel. I played a lot of that Ravel piece and a lot of Edel’s music for a long time.” He laughed. “Not my favorite composer, not Philip Glass, but at least I was able to play.”

“Did you play it for anyone?”

He shook his head. “I don’t play for other people, typically. I play for myself,” he confessed. He lifted his hands from her thighs and considered them, flexing his fingers as he turned his hands over, back and forth, his head bowed, his gaze distant and glassy upon them. “It’s… it’s my sanity, my… my meditation, if you will,” he declared. “It’s my way of starting the morning, my way of decompressing, of distancing myself from reality for a while without drugs or alcohol or the like. Well,” he chuckled, “one of my ways. I have others, one of which you’ve already experienced last night.”

“Well, then,” she took one of his hands in hers, once again taking up the study of the lines of his fingers, the plane of his palm. She raised her eyes to his with a wry smile, her gaze half-mast and flirty. “I like the way you decompress.”

Ansgar opened his mouth to speak, leaned in with his eyes hooded, to hopefully initiate a session of stress relief, when the doorbell rang.

“Ah, shit. That’s crap timing.”

“Who’s here?” Joline frowned.

“Dinner’s arrived,” Ansgar gently moved her legs off his lap and unfolded his own, stretching slightly as he stood. “I’ll go let them in so they can set up. Stay here.”

“Oh,” Joline pouted mockingly. “And here I thought you’d cooked for me.”

“I don’t cook.” Ansgar snorted derisively. “You don’t want me cooking for you, believe me. When the primal cells that became Magnus and myself divided in my mother’s womb, my brother sucked up all the gastronomic protoplasm for himself.”

“Really!?” she chimed, shifting forward on the chaise, her elbows upon her knees in rapt interest. “Are you saying, in your really, really weird way, that you can’t cook?” she wriggled further forward, her face lit up with a child-like excitement. “Do you mean there truly is something the great and mighty Ansgar Martinsson, the Lion of Stockholm, can’t do? I’m shocked!”

He laughed, and tipped his head in acknowledgement of her well-placed jibe. “There are many things I can’t do, my darling Joline. However, I’m far too arrogant to admit it.” He gave her an elaborate yet silly bow. “Now, if you will excuse me, I need to go show my friend the Michelin-starred chef where to prepare our meal, and criticize her sharply for not cooking the meat to my specifications.” He winked. “Or something arsehole-ish like that.”

“Go on then, you do that.”

He stepped quickly to her, bent and kissed her. He pulled back, his tongue snaking out to taste her upon his lips as he brushed his nose against hers, as he gazed at her, a soft, longing shape to his eyes. His look was as delicate as his touch on her cheek, as warm as the curved bow of his smile. “Be right back. Don’t move.”

At first, Joline obeyed. She knew better than to test Ansgar when he issued a command, but the story of his brush with mortality smacked of her present circumstances. With her mother as sick as she was, Joline considered every day with her a gift, a guardian angel on her shoulder.

As she crossed her arms on the rear of the sofa, she felt a twinge of gratitude for whichever guardian angel spared Ansgar on that day, the day he nearly lost his life, his arm and his brother. She enjoyed watching him walk away, the expansive shoulders, the slim waist, the tight ass, and the hard lines of his legs. Shallow, of course, she admitted to herself, but to her credit, she didn’t know him well. She appreciated his generosity with her nephews and naturally herself and her ambitious plans for the opera house.

But she had to wonder if he worked some angle that she couldn’t see or imagine. He was a business man, a successful one, and business men displayed unattractive qualities. Would those spill over into his private relationships?

Joline’s brain didn’t work in the crooked or the mischievous. She liked logic, and to a certain extent, rules and boundaries. She liked diplomacy, an acceptable outcome of compromise between disagreeing parties. She didn’t work in scheming. That could be why she couldn’t see who sabotaged her theatre on her watch under her own nose.

With a double kiss, Ansgar greeted, a svelte blonde woman in a pristine white chef’s coat. “Rose,” he said in a robust decrescendo. “Bless you and your stars for coming.”

“Martinsson, where the devil have you been? They revoked one of my stars because my best customer fucked off to parts unknown.” The wide eyed, rosy faced woman entered the kitchen as if she owned the place, a sous chef only a step behind, and set up without a single order from Ansgar.

“Bullshit,” he argued, a chuckle followed. “They would have awarded you another for feeding the rest of Stockholm.” He glanced over his shoulder in Joline’s direction to ensure she was still there, and winked at her.

She took advantage of his attention to point at her mobile and indicated one of the many doors to the wrap-around balcony of his flat.

Ansgar furrowed his brow briefly but nodded, granting her his permission.

Joline wiggled her fingers in a wave and crossed to the outside door. She overheard Rose talking enough for all of them, “You rung me to impress a date, huh? I’m glad for it, Martin—“ Joline slipped out before she heard anymore. She got the impression that Ansgar and Rose were old friends, and she might have known of his marriage. Joline didn’t want to hear any more of the other woman if she could help it.

Using her one touch dialing on her mobile, Joline phoned her mother.

“Dearest daughter,” Emelie’s voice sounded resolved, “Tell me you’re not ringing me on your date. You’re not mugged again?”

Joline stepped fearlessly to the railing, taking in the best view of Stockholm she’d ever seen. There was very little noise, only the warm summer breeze. “No, not mugged again, mama. Only wanted to hear your voice.”

“Feeling sentimental?”

“That must make me a shit daughter, huh?”

“Unwise.”

Following along the railing, Joline walked to keep her feet busy. “Only worried for you.”

“You’re allowed to live your own life, I don’t—“

“How are you, mama? I haven’t been there as much as I should.”

“Joline, it’s two days. You’re dating again, good for you. I’m hanging up now.”

And the line went silent. Joline smiled down at her mobile before pocketing it again. She could’ve predicted how that conversation was going to go and her mother’s response to a spontaneous phone call.

The horizon pulled her focus and she breathed in the familiar smell of Stockholm, seawater, barbeque and petrol. It wasn’t pleasant but it was home, conjuring memories of her childhood, of chasing her brother, trying to fit in with the boys. She caught sight of the opera house in the distance, filling with pride at being there and working at one of her favorite buildings in the city center.

Joline felt him, rather than heard, before Ansgar touched her. His hands attached themselves at her hips as he lined her body with his. She stood to feel all of him behind her.

“Did you find it? Do you see the opera house?” He curled his arms around her.

She nodded first, then pointed to it. “This is a breathtaking view, Sgar! I think I can see Lidingo from here.”

He buried his lips against her neck, earning a whimper for his effort. “Am I keeping you from–?”

“No, no… I’m happy to be here.” She breathed out, crossing her arms to hold him to her. “A quick phone call to-to… my best friend.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth.

“Tell me about her.”

Joline paused, figuring a way to tell the truth without revealing too much. It was against her makeup, her nature, but she didn’t trust him with her emotions. Her body, absolutely, but her emotions were fragile. “I’ve known her all my life. I’d trust her with my life, and she’d take the piss out of me for it. Quick wit, sarcastic and smarter than me.” She shrugged. “And I owe her a pair of Louboutins.”

“Surely, she’d forgive a mugging.”

“Maybe if I’d done it myself,” Joline laughed at her own joke. “She’s wicked, more wicked than me.”

Ansgar gave her notable lead, choosing not to dig beyond the vague, allowing her to determine just how much to tell him. He’d played her enough with her family that afternoon, he could draw it out and patiently wait her out. He turned it around to them and their evening. “How wicked are you, Joline?”

She turned around in his arms, treading the easy path of the intimate rather than the emotional. Hooking her arms around his neck, she shoved her lips into his, his will surprisingly pliant to her. She demanded and her answered the torrid press of lips and searing tongues. She scraped her teeth along his lower lip when she pulled back and ended the kiss. “Did you friend cook your dinner to your specifications?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Pity. I’m a bit distracted by that strap of leather that I was promised.”

Ansgar groaned, lifting her up to press his face into her cleavage, his teeth gnawing at her tender flesh.

Joline only made it far worse with her next statement. “I can think of better things to put in my mouth than food. I’m under the impression that men like that men prefer that as a stress reliever.”

“SGAR! Hey!” Rose’s voice cut through the distance. Her timing hadn’t improved in the fifteen minutes since she arrived. “You eat now, arse, or the salmon will crumble like bread crumbs if you wait any longer.”

#the best intentions

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reddieandgoodnight · 5 years

Note

Overhearing they have feelings for you with reddie?¿

Here you go, anon! Hope you like it! :)

Eddie Kaspbrak sat on his hotel bed in an old t-shirt and lounge pants, feet tucked up under him in a decidedly childish pose. But then, maybe that was fitting — returning to childhood and all that. Wasn’t that what this was? Coming back to Derry to face the terrors of his youth?

He supposed so.

But the fear…that terrible, terrible fear…it had seemed worth it when he slipped into the Jade of the Orient restaurant earlier that evening to see Mike Hanlon and Bill Denbrough waiting for him. They had stared at each other for a split second before shouting the same way young boys do, rushing into a hug that felt so familiar, Eddie could have cried. Maybe he did.

Mike had seemed so worn, weary, with far too many of lines of wisdom etched into his face, but his eyes had been bright, crinkling with that same welcoming kindness Eddie remembered.

And Bill, so effortless in his movements as he gazed at Eddie with the brightest blue eyes, had exuded that same sense of thoughtful calmness Eddie had seen standing in front of the Neibolt house all those years ago, when Bill hadn’t stuttered once.

Several minutes later, Ben Hanscom and Beverly Marsh had walked in, faces drawn and unsure but softening as their eyes came to rest on Eddie, Mike, and Bill. Bev had clutched tightly at her purse, hair like spun fire under the subdued lights, ready to fight as she always was. And Ben had apparently transformed into a model-esque man who could have been on the cover of GQ, hands in his pockets and nodding in shy sweetness.

Okay. This is okay, Eddie had thought. Things will be okay.

But then the last of them stepped inside, and Eddie had promptly forgotten how to breathe — but this time, no aspirator could have helped. Tall with broad shoulders, tousled dark hair, and soft brown eyes magnified by thick glasses resting against freckled cheeks, Richie Tozier was just like Eddie remembered — loud laugh, tights hugs, and all.

And from deep within the locked recesses of Eddie’s mind, more memories had come flooding back — summers down at the Barrens, jumping into the lake, flying down Main Street on their bikes, sitting under the stars on warm nights, whispering secrets in each other’s ears, giggling at stupid jokes.

But most of all, Eddie had remembered Richie Trashmouth Tozier, and all the strange feelings Richie had awoken inside him, up until he was sixteen and Eddie’s mother had moved them out of Derry and everything was forgotten.

The boy Eddie had loved was forgotten.

It hurt. It fucking hurt.

Richie had seemed nervous as he called “the official meeting of the Losers Club” to order, covering it up with crude jokes as he always did. But when his eyes had turned to Eddie, Richie had gone oddly quiet, though his eyes were soft.

Eddie had sat between Richie and Bill during dinner while the Losers Club reminisced and caught up with each other in turns. They had smiled, laughed, cried, and mourned over the loss of Stan, who had been one of the dearest of them all.

He’d joined in, of course, but Eddie found that for much of it, his eyes kept silently returning to Richie, of their own volition it seemed. And a few times, he’d caught Richie looking back, with a gaze that pulled at something deep and scorching inside him.

And now, perched on this lumpy hotel bed in a room that smelled of household cleaning products mixed with old dust, he wished he and Richie were meeting again under vastly different circumstances.

Eddie glanced at the phone sitting on the bedside table. He wondered for a moment if he should call Myra, but he swiftly brushed the thought aside.

He’d had thoughts of divorce for…a while now. Eddie didn’t need a shrink to tell him that he’d married his mother — Myra and Mrs. Kaspbrak may as well have been twins, in both personality and looks. Agreeing to marry Myra had just been easier, no matter how much he despised himself for it.

But no matter how he had tried to devote himself to her, to love her the way a wife should be loved…he couldn’t. He never had. And over their years of marriage, the truth hiding inside him had slowly wormed its way to the surface. It had been smothered once, shoved down when Eddie had lost the memories of his childhood, but it was not to be deterred, rising with a little more determination every time Myra kissed him, slept with him, or even just touched his hand, all of which he came to realize he hated.

Because the truth of the matter was, Eddie Kaspbrak was gay. And hiding behind Myra was never going to change that, no matter how many times he wished it would.

He could still hear the memory of her wailing as she had watched Eddie packing his suitcase, shoving all manner of pill bottles into his bag, as though a plague like Captain Tripps itself would be making an appearance, all without remembering his aspirator sitting on the table downstairs.

“I don’t understand!” Myra had cried, wringing her sausage-like fingers. “Where are you going? What’s this about?”

“I’m sorry,” Eddie had said, pulling his bag behind him as he made his way downstairs to call a cab. “I can’t tell you. But I made a promise, and I have to keep it.”

“A promise?” she’d repeated. “What kind of promise? What is this about, Eddie?”

He’d shaken his head. No matter how much he disliked his wife, he refused to expose her to what was pulling him back to Derry.

“When will you be back?” Myra had asked then, tears steadily dripping down her pasty white, meaty face — her strongest manipulation tactic, the same one his mother had been fond of whenever Eddie was getting a little too out of hand, slipping out from under the heavy press of Mrs. Kaspbrak’s thumb.

But it wasn’t working, not this time. Because this time, Eddie’s memories of his youth were beginning to return — only in bits and pieces and flashes of color, at first, but it was enough. As Eddie watched the twin trails of tears sliding down Myra’s face, he remembered standing up to his mother in the summer of 1989.

(They’re gazebos! They’re bullshit!)

Looking at Myra had shifted into seeing Sonia Kaspbrak, that same distraught look on her face at being unable to control him.

And in that moment, Eddie had realized he’d rather die than let Myra rule his life for any longer.

“Myra…I’m not coming back,” Eddie had said, and then braced himself. And it was a good thing because it had only taken Myra a few seconds of utterly bewildered shock before she’d started shrieking. He’d yelled back — he wasn’t proud of it, but he had. He didn’t know what else to do.

“No, Eddie!” Myra had sobbed. “You can’t leave me! You can’t! Who will take care of you?”

“I’ll take care of me,” Eddie had murmured, quieting. “I need to. I have to, or I’ll die. I don’t expect you to understand—”

“I don’t!”

“—but maybe someday, you will.” He’d taken a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Myra. I…I really am. But I can’t live like this anymore. I won’t do it.”

“But—!”

“…I’ll have our attorney draft up divorce papers when I can. After this is over.”

If it ever is.

And the screaming had started all over again. The cab came at that moment, and Eddie had never been so grateful.

Eddie sighed, standing up from the bed. He could use a drink, between leaving his wife and seeing Richie Tozier again in the space of twenty-four hours. But he supposed a bottle of Perrier would have to do. He just needed some ice.

He grabbed the ice bucket off the side table and headed into the hall after sliding into a pair of slippers. He knew the other Losers save for Mike were all holed up here as well, and he vaguely wondered where their rooms were as he headed toward the open room at the end of the hall that stored the ice machine.

A couple feet away from the room, Eddie realized there were already two people in there getting ice. And based on the voices he’d heard only an hour ago, they were Ben Hanscom and Richie Tozier, speaking in hushed tones.

Eddie didn’t know quite what possessed him, but he paused, leaning against the wall. He knew eavesdropping was rude, but he just…wanted to hear Richie’s voice without having to think about any implications. Just for a few minutes.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Richie was saying. “I just… I wasn’t expecting this.”

“I don’t think anyone was expecting this,” Ben murmured. “I mean, Jesus, I wouldn’t have even known you a couple of days ago.” A pause. “Have you tried talking to him?”

“What would I say? ‘Hey, I know we forgot about each other for thirty years, but I still think you’re hot. Wanna bang?’ Think he’d tell me to go beep fucking beep myself.” Richie’s voice was low, much sadder than his words.

“I don’t think he would, Richie. Did you see how he was looking at you at dinner?”

“…yeah. Made me want to kiss him. How pathetic do I sound right now? Be honest, Haystack.”

Ben chuckled, that warm sound Eddie remembered so well. “As pathetic as someone sounds when they’re in love and don’t know what to do about it.”

“Am I?” Richie asked. “In love? Does it still count as love when I didn’t even remember Eddie Kaspbrak existed for this long?”

Eddie felt his body stiffen, eyes widening in shock. He’d had an inkling of what this conversation was about,

(a conversation he was not supposed to be hearing)

but Richie…

Richie…loves me?

He felt like screaming in elation and crying all at once. He slapped a hand over his mouth to keep any inadvertent sounds from escaping him, biting down on the warmth of overwhelming feeling rushing through him.

“It counts,” Ben said earnestly.

“…Bev? Still?”

“…yeah.”

“Hang tough, buddy.”

Realizing he was about to be caught, Eddie made to step back, but before he made it more than a few inches, Richie walked into the hallway.

And immediately froze, eyes wide as he gawked at Eddie.

Ben stepped out, took one look at what was happening, and went the other way, hiding a smile behind his hand.

“Eds,” Richie said, voice strangled. “I…uh, you —”

“I’m sorry,” Eddie blurted, cutting Richie off. “I…” His voice faded.

They stared at each other.

“Do you want to…uh, come back to my room? With me?” Eddie asked in a rush, feeling more than a little insane. “To talk,” he added hurriedly, face flushing.

Richie blinked at him, then smiled. That same wide, easy grin Eddie had loved so much as a child.

He found he loved it just the same now. Maybe even more.

“Yeah, okay,” Richie said. “Lead the way.”

Eddie nodded, turning around and heading back the way he’d come from. Richie walked beside him, close enough that Eddie could feel the warmth of Richie’s arm hovering next to his. A strange giddiness rushed through him just from having Richie Tozier at his elbow.

“This is me,” Eddie said, gesturing to Room 609.

They stepped inside, and Eddie watched Richie glance over Eddie’s belongings, lingering on the bottle of Perrier on the nightstand.

Eddie gazed at Richie, at the way the room lights seemed to illuminate his freckles, the same shade of brown as Richie’s eyes. A small dusting of pink spread across Richie’s face when he looked back at Eddie, lips rising in a tentative smile.

And Eddie realized that, although it had been so long since he’d seen Richie, it didn’t matter. Because he still knew this man standing in front of him, simply an older version of the boy Eddie’s heart had sung for without him realizing every time a handsome man passed him on the street or Myra pressed against him or anything at all.

“Did you…did you mean it?” Eddie asked, hesitant.

Richie sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Yes,” he said after a moment. “Eds…Eddie —” He took a deep breath. “I didn’t remember you until yesterday, but when Mike called me…and then when I saw you at dinner —”

“I know,” Eddie whispered, sinking down beside Richie. “It’s…it’s the same for me.”

“It is?” Richie asked, voice hoarse as he looked up at Eddie.

“It always has been,” Eddie admitted. “I just…never knew how to tell you. Before.” He waved his hand, seemingly gesturing toward their hazy past.

Eddie remembered all the times he’d watched Richie when he thought Richie wouldn’t notice — the long column of Richie’s throat, sunlight in Richie’s hair. But then he’d shake his head at his own strange thoughts, pushing them away.

When he got a little older, he realized he didn’t want to stop the thoughts anymore. But by then it had been too late. The Kaspbraks had left Derry as little more than a cloud of dust in the rearview mirror — and Eddie had forgotten everything.

“Eddie?” Richie murmured.

“…yeah?”

“I’m so glad I remembered you.”

Eddie smiled, quivering as Richie leaned toward him. “Me, too.”

When their lips finally met, it was as though something fated had fallen into place, the hole cracked in Eddie’s heart finally beginning to fill, touching a piece of him Myra had never even gotten close to.

Eddie’s arms slowly wrapped around Richie’s neck as Richie’s arms encircled his waist, tugging him against Richie’s warm chest. Their lips moved, shyly at first, testing, and then more firmly. Eddie sighed, happiness bubbling up inside him in gentle waves, trembling at the feeling of Richie’s tongue sliding against his.

They broke apart, breathing heavily as they looked at one another, wonder shimmering in their eyes.

And then they kissed again. And again. And again.

And despite the horrors that awaited them, it seemed that the darkness of the night pulled back just enough for the love of two boys, now men, to glow.

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #reddie fic #ash writes

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swanky-batman · 5 years

Text

Narnia Part 6

Peter Pevensie x Reader, Edmund Pevensie x Reader

Warnings: drinking, swearing, violence, probably just mature situations all around.

Part 6! Sorry it’s taken a while to start posting again but I’m trying to get caught up on some of this stuff! Back from my honeymoon now <3 It continues immediately after part 5, I hope you enjoy! (also the gifs aren’t mine!)

Masterlist || Ko-Fi

Beginning- Previous- Next

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

His heart sped up as he went towards the window, seeing a makeshift escape route. Immediately, he gathered Edmund, Lucy, Susan, Caspian and Reep in his room to speak to them.

They devised a route for each of them to take to cover the most ground, taking a small group with each to search.

One by one, each returned to the castle- empty handed. Peter, who was the last to return after the longest and farthest search, retreated towards his room. Angrily, he tossed his equipment to the side, making a large noise around him as he did.

He spotted his letter on his desk, tearing it open before pouring over the contents.

Dearest High King,

I am so sorry to leave this way, but your opinion of me breaks me to my core. I cannot, will not, go back with the uncle who sought to leave me- who cannot even look at me.

I cherished the time we all spent together, and will miss you all dearly. Please take care, and keep a watchful eye of those surrounding you. I beg you to be safe, regardless if you will listen to me or not.

Your Ex-Princess

He did not feel better after reading it. He reread it over and over and scoffed at the idea of him listening to her warnings. His mind began to reprocess the events leading up to her seclusion.

He had trusted her, given her open access to almost all areas of the castle. To his family and most trusted friends…

A knock at the door sent him from his thoughts, calling for the person to come in.

“Peter, can we speak?” Ed asked, his own letter clutched in his hand.

He sighed, setting his jaw.

“I had a question about the guard that came to speak to you.” Edmund continued after closing the door.

“He did what he thought was right…”

“That’s just it, Peter- how did he know it was something traitorous?” Edmund paused, waiting for his words to hit him. Peter stood, annoyed that there was a questioning of his leadership going on. “How could he have known it was unless he knew what it said himself?”

Peter stopped his groaning, not moving at all for a few moments. When his head whipped around to look at Edmund, his face shown a bit of fear and confusion. “Guards!” He yelled, striding over towards the door.

----

“Oh, mother, look at your daughter. How far I thought I had progressed, just to be part of the wildlings once again.” You murmured to yourself, content with some of the products you had grabbed.

The first few hours had been a scramble after you left the castle. Still early enough before the servants and the sun arose, you had to be quick to get a lead on and not leave a path behind you. You had hidden often with your mother when you were younger but it was like using something covered in dust, trying to remember everything about it.

Once you had gotten further out you still remained cautious, knowing they would probably send out a hunting party for their prisoner- so you perched your stuff high above and dug yourself a cove inside a tree and covered yourself with moss and other coverings.

Staying there for a while, you had gotten quite cozy and since you hadn’t slept through the night your eyes threatened to close now.

You woke with a snap of your eyes as you heard hoofbeats not far away.

You could hear the horses breath, and the riders as he had to have come far out of the way to get towards you.

You could hear mumbling and were worried you would have to stay hidden from several pairs of eyes so you lowered your breathing to a minimum.

Coming into view, the shaggy hair and tired eyes of the High King himself came into your vision for a split second. There were emotions crossed on his face- concern, worry, slight anger and exhaustion were the ones you caught in the moment. You whispered an apology as he rode on and waited even longer to come out of your hiding.

With the compass you managed to tie around your neck you used the general directions to navigate you to where- you hoped- there was a small village a few miles up. From there you decided to move West as best you could and try to find some sort of work since you were starting from scratch.

“Mother, how did you manage?” You mumbled with a small smile to yourself, suddenly very aware of how alone you were. It had been a while since you had no one else to please, to answer to… to talk to.

Noises another half hour on your journey made you cautiously step back and pause. Voices- maybe three or four. On horseback, unfamiliar. You held yourself in one spot, sinking into the trunk you were by and counted. Five minutes went by and their voices seemed to be circling your south. Another five minutes and you heard them a little further off.

Taking a deep breath you rushed a little faster by foot. If you were going to succeed you needed to get out of the easy radius of the castle. The good news was you knew how to hide your tracks so they didn’t know which way you had moved from the castle.

How Peter had happened to be the one on your journey seemed a bit too close for comfort- a bad sign for the start. Although it did give you one last chance to see him, not glaring or filled with anger towards you.

You had arrived, another close call with one more group and some time later. With it being near evening, the general shop was closed along with most of the food stalls so you set yourself up on the outskirt of town up in a strong tree. You were lucky for the wildlife around Narnia or you would have little to no chance.

You nodded off and woke fairly early, the sun hitting your eyes up the tree. You thought through what you might need at the shops and recounted the amount of coin you had- you would need a bigger bag able to carry most of your supplies, a new hunting knife and tinder box would make your nights easier, as well as a head scarf for the sun as well as to help you through any towns you would hit.

Things seemed to go smooth- you bartered with the shop and the food stall vendors, everyone seeming to be a little wary of a stranger but friendly enough all the same.

That’s when you spotted it- a riding party coming from the direction of the castle. You quickly finished up your purchase and threw your head scarf on, dodging as quickly as you could while avoiding attention. Last house towards the end of town, you heard them coming closer and your heart raced, a hand reaching out and pulling you off to the side and inside the building.

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

“Lucy please stop your tapping.” Susan asked, sitting across from her.

Lucy pouted and then looked over at Peter, “I’m worried.”

“I think everyone is a bit worried, my dear.” Reep chimed in, looking out the window next to Peter. He followed Peter’s gaze across the gardens and towards the forest.

“I for one think we were a little hard on the whole topic.” Lucy mumbled, earning a shush from Susan.

A knock at the door got everyone’s attention, Caspian walking in, “We have visitors- they aren’t pleased at the moment.”

Peter rubbed his face, “ The King of Calormen.” He groaned.

“I almost forgot about them.” Lucy jumped up, looking worried, “What’s going to happen?”

“We shall see.” Peter straightened and walked towards the room Caspian indicated.

“Where is she?” The King asked in a quiet tone. “What so-called crimes has she committed against you- against Narnia?”

Peter felt the whole rooms gaze upon him, “It is not what she has done, but the crimes your majesty has committed.”

At this, he seemed taken aback, “Me?”

“Yes, we have found one of your traitors.” Peter gestured for a pair of his guards who were holding the guard that accused Y/N of the statement made.

“Blasphemy!” The king shifted, “I have no idea who this man is.”

“We know his story, your majesty. The only thing I am concerned about is why you had him bring Princess Y/N into question.” Peter crossed his arms, as did Caspian.

“Father!” His son turned towards him, “Tell me you didn’t put her in danger!”

“My son you should care less about the peasant who is no line to the throne.”

“She is family!”

“She is nothing but a pawn!” The king raised his voice.

“Not to me.” His son and Peter answered at the same time, surprising each other.

“Your peace treaty is void.” Caspian proclaimed, trying to keep the conversation in the room.

“Guards!” Peter shouted, guards flooding the room with their weapons drawn.

The king frowned, “You have made a big mistake, boy.”

“It’s High King Peter- and I was not the one who wanted war.” Peter glared, ordering them away.

Moments later there was a silence that filled the room.

“I’ll go with the guards to the King’s room- maybe send Ed or someone to interrogate that son of his.” Caspian nodded, walking out.

Peter sighed, looking around, “Where is Ed?”

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

You struggled for a moment, the stranger placing a hand over your mouth after the door was shut and yanking the scarf from your head.

“It is you.” He sighed, stepping back into the room with the fire hitting his face.

“Edmund?” You breathed, your heart racing, “How did you find me? What will you do with me?”

“I was thinking dinner and a drink.” He smirked, mocking you a little after his eyes ran over you. “If you have the time.”

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

Tags: @i-regret-this-already, @breezy1415, @seninjakitey, @imboredsueme, @courtneychicken, @marriedtopeterparker, @imeannooffensebabybut, @cassiopeia-barrow, @daphne-fandom-writing, @notmyfault404, @i-larb-spooderman, @aussiearies, @marvelismylifffe, @kdcollinsauthor

Narnia Tags: @firedancernix, @ttawny, @hopebaker

#narnia #cs lewis narnia #Adventures of Narnia #edmund pevensie #edmund pevensie x reader #peter pevensie #peter pevensie x reader #susan pevensie #Caspian #lucy pevensie

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batboyblog · 5 years

Text

Roof-Top Reddie

@richietoaster said they wanted a fluffy roof top scene so I did my best, which is very bad, enjoy, because this did not flow very well when I wrote it.

“Come on big Bill it’s gonna be party city at castle Tozier to-night!” Richie hated how desperate that sounded. On the other end of the phone Bill let out a sigh “S-sorry Richie, I can’t, Soccer camp till school starts.” Four years after the sewers, after Georgie, after It, Bill only stuttered moderately, but he’d kept the habit of only saying what was absolutely necessary. Richie let out his own sigh, giving in to defeat. “It’s fine Bill, have fun kicking balls with the other boys, locker room towel slaps and midnight games of hide the pickle can’t compete with your oldest and dearest friends I understand.” Richie filled his voice with over dramatic self-pity. Bill let out a snort of laughter “Beep Beep Richie, sorry I can’t go, have f-fun without me okay?”

“Sure thing Big Bill” Richie said and hung up

It was the second to last week of Summer vacation, and Richie’s parents had announced they would be going out of town for 4 days. Maggie and Went Tozier had made their only son swear up down and sideways that he would not throw any parties while they were away. He’s sworn with such force and sincerity they’d managed to believe all the way to the end of their street. As Went turned on the blinker to turn off their street he turned to his wife and said “You know he’s on the phone to his friends by now” and Maggie Tozier let out a longer suffering sigh knowing her husband was correct.

The Toziers would have been happy to know that Richie had struck out with nearly all of his friends. Bill was spending the last 3 weeks of summer vacation with the high school soccer team. Mike was showing prize winning hogs at the state fair. Stan was a camp counselor at a Jewish sleep away camp in upstate New York and wouldn’t be back for another week. Ben and Bev were camping in Acadia.

That left only Eddie, who of course Richie had called first. In fact Richie had been punching in Eddie’s number before his parents had finished pulling out of the driveway. “Eds! Eds! Eddie spaghetti!” He bugled into the phone when Eddie picked up. Richie could almost hear Eddie’s eyes roll “Don’t call me Eds, you know I hate it. What the hell are you so excited about?”

“Why! Edward my dear boy!” Richie had slipped into his English butler voice. “My dear parents have departed for a country holiday” Richie said it hal-oooh-day. “And so” Richie switched to a hype man voice “There will be the party of the century at the Tozier residence! There will be booze! Gambling and WOMEN!”

Eddie let out a snort. “One we’re 17 Richie and no one in this town is gonna sell you alcohol, two you suck at poker, and three we don’t know any women who aren’t Bev. Besides what the heck would you do with ‘women’ any ways Richie” Richie shrugged to himself. “Well everyone needs back up dancers” Richie managed and Eddie let out a groan “oh please Rich don’t dance whatever happens don’t dance no one needs that” Richie smiled to himself he had Eddie hooked, there would be some back and forth, Eddie would bring up his dragon of a mother, but he was coming to the party.

On saturday night Eddie barely had time to knock when Richie threw open the front door. “Eds! Welcome to the party-o-rama! The Party of the century big Eds!” Eddie blinked at him taking in the New Years party hat from 3 years ago on his head and his arms thrown wide. Eddie looked past Richie into the clearly empty house “It’s just us huh?” he said flatly. Richie dropped his arms and shrugged “yeah it’s just us” Eddie smiled and rolled his eyes as he walked in.

“Here” He said and he shoved a six pack into Richie’s chest. “Where the fuck you get this Eds”

“Stop calling me Eds and maybe one day I’ll tell you jack-ass” Came Eddie’s voice from the living room. Richie threw himself down on the couch next to Eddie and grabbed one of the beers, cracking it and taking a big drink. He tried not to make a face it tasted like arm-pit socks. “Really brought the good stuff didn’t ya Eddie?” Eddie punched him in the arm before taking a sip of his own and making a face. “Yeah you’re right this stuff is foul”. They sat in silence for a few minutes taking half hearted sips of the beer, which didn’t get any better.

Richie stood “Okay I got an idea, come on Eds! Leave the devil juice, where we’re going we won’t need brews!” Eddie stood and put the beer down on a coaster. “I really didn’t like that movie” he said more to himself than to Richie. Richie was already bounding ahead and up the stairs. Richie bounced on his heels in his bedroom waiting for Eddie to reach the door way. “Your bedroom?” Eddie said looking around the natural disaster that was Richie Tozier’s bedroom. “I don’t see how sitting on your bed isn’t worse than sitting on the couch downstairs” He said crossing his arms and looking at Richie.

“Not the bedroom!” Richie said taking two quick steps to the window and throwing it open. “The roof!” Eddie looked doubtful as he picked his way past the piles of dirty clothes in Richie’s room to make his way to the window. Eddie stuck his head out of the window looking at the drop before turning his face up toward the roof just over the top of the window. “Okay” Eddie’s face had taken on that pinched worried look “but you’re going first”

After several nearly hysterical cries of “be careful!” and “watch out!” Richie was on the roof looking out over the trees at Derry. “Come on spaghetti-o” He yelled down at Eddie. Slowly the top half of Eddie came out of the window. Richie grabbed his friend’s hands and before Eddie could object Richie pulled him with all his might out of the window and up onto the roof landing him like a fish. For a second Eddie desperately scrambled at the roof trying to get a hold to stop the fall he clearly thought was happening. When he realized he wasn’t falling off the roof Eddie rolled onto his back pulled out his aspirator and took a deep blast from it.

“Lift off lift off we got lift off” Richie said slapping Eddie’s arm “careful Eds if you hit that thing too hard you’ll go flying right off the roof” Eddie pulled himself up to a sitting position next to Richie. “Beep beep asshole” he said without heat.

The two of them sat like that for a long moment looking at the pink sunset sky over Derry. “Makes you think doesn’t it?” Eddie said quietly. “Think about what Sin-hor?” Richie said. “Be serious” Eddie seemed almost upset. “Okay okay, you know serious isn’t my thing, but I’ll try” Richie straightened up and did his best to make a serious face “think about what Eddie?” He said fight off the urge to do another voice. “The future” Eddie said simply. “Ooh mysterious” Richie said waggling his fingers at Eddie. “We talking jet packs and flying cars or like personal futures?”

Eddie rolled his eyes and let out a sigh. “Like how all my friends have had their first kisses, first girlfriends boyfriends, whatever, dates, and I’m stuck, stuck in Derry, stuck in love with an oblivious idiot” Richie felt his mouth go deadly dry. He had no idea that Eddie liked someone, suddenly Richie wished he’d brought the beer up here, he wished he’d drank it all. “Uh, who’s the idiot, because you need me to slap some sense into someone I’m here for you Eds”

Eddie turned his head and looked at Richie for a long moment. His eyes were sad and tired. “Richie…” He said his voice sounded exhausted. In that single word a million things were packed in. Richie felt like he had drank that whole six pack by himself the world was spinning. His whole life felt like a puzzle that was in the dryer spinning around. Now the pieces started to slap together, a million little comments, touches and looks between them. “Oh…. OH...oooooh” Richie looked at Eddie with wide panicked eyes.

“It’s okay Richie I didn’t mean to fre-” Which is as far as Eddie got before Richie grabbed his face in both his hands and kissed him. Richie didn’t think past he couldn’t allow Eddie to say that, to assume that Richie was some freaked out straight boy. No way, Richie needed to show him that they were the same. Maybe not the most eloquent way to come out to your best friend, but it did the job.

At first the kiss was more an awkward mashing of mouths together, but slowly Eddie melted into the kiss. Richie felt his heart trying to explode out of his chest, when he felt Eddie’s tongue in his mouth he saw fireworks. After what felt like forever they broke apart and looked into each other’s eyes mirroring looks of panic and awe in their faces. “So..” “yeah..” Richie smiled and then Eddie did. Richie laid back on the roof and looked at the first stars peaking out “well that makes senior year more interesting” He said, Eddie laughed and slapped his arm, laying down next to him and twining his fingers together with Richie’s.

#Reddie #IT #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #writing #bad writing #fan fic

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zetalial · 5 years

Text

FMA 03 - Brothers

Hey, here’s another post to round off the themes of family in FMA 2003. Here’s links to the first two: Mothers and fathers.

This one is focused on the relationship between brothers in the series (and, yes, I would have loved to have called this post Brotherhood... but I could not.) We meet quite a few pairs of Brothers throughout the series with our main characters being Edward and Alphonse, who’s relationship gets the most depth and development. I would be here all day trying to explore every facet of their relationship though! I’ll just try and briefly explain how their relationship can be compared to other brotherly relationships.

Let me start by looking at episode 38 - With the River’s Flow.

Ed and Al are, as ever, travelling alone and getting into conflict. These two are both pretty headstrong (though Ed more so than Al) and this episode perfectly captures their relationship.

They’re a bit stuck in their journey and they lash out at each other. Al’s irritated at Ed’s stubborness while Ed’s irritated at Al’s inability to express himself. Ed’s determined to go after Scar and the Philosopher’s stone while ignoring the proverbial elephant in the room that is the Homunculi - namely Sloth. Al wants to talk about Sloth but he is having trouble actually confronting Ed about it - he somehow manages to bring up Hohenheim of all people instead. In the end, they succeed only in getting angry at each other and storming off to sulk alone.

This is far from the only time we see the two arguing, they’re often at odds with each other actually. And no brotherly relationship we see in the story is perfectly smooth either.

Here’s a pair of Ishvalan Brothers. The younger brother is called Rick and the older brother is called Leo. Like Ed and Al they’re pretty close, possibly due to being orphans who have had a rough life so far and they have to really rely on each other. At one point, Rick has a PTSD flashback and Leo snaps him out of it, in a way that implies he’s used to it. In episode 24, the two of them are definitely in conflict over longstanding issues about their mother. Leo is angry that Rick cares so much about her as he has stubbornly convinced himself that she never really cared about them. Rick still has faith though.

Despite their differences in opinion though, Rick and Leo’s bond is still very strong. When Rick gets kidnapped, his brother immediately goes with Scar and Al to help rescue him. He is keeping quiet about a painful memory so that Rick doesn’t have to learn the truth and ironically that’s a huge part of why they’re in conflict. This invites you to contrast it with Ed and Al’s own fight in this episode. Where Al has convinced himself that Ed doesn’t really love him because he’s just a fake and meanwhile Ed has been keeping quiet all this time about his guilt over whether Al blames him for his condition - for the human transmutation. It’s only when they have faith and confide in their worries that both their conflicts are able to be resolved.

Speaking of Ishvalan Brothers, there’s another pair of them in this series who also struggled to relate to each other.

They are... an interesting pair. Scar’s older brother is dead when the series starts but Scar certainly thinks about him a lot. The two had trouble understanding each other with Scar’s brother being something of a heretic who performed alchemy - human transmutation and was... a little odd. Nothing like this crowning scene of him crying big tears in the middle of the day in the middle of a war and in front of his brother, while completely naked - right?

Still, Scar seems to desperately want to understand his brother. Some of his first words in the series is wondering what his brother wanted him to do with his arm. Upon encountering Ed and Al in episode 14, he immediately says that Ed reminds him of his older brother and ends up emphasising with Al. Another conflict the two had was that apparently he had feelings for his brother’s great love - the woman who became Lust. Central to his conversations with the homunculus is his complex feelings about his brother. Some of Scar’s final words are again reflecting on the Elric brothers and their close relationship to each other. He wishes he’d managed a similar relationship with his brother and quietly says “brother, I love you”.

Beyond their conflicts though, there’s also a theme of sacrifice.

Scar’s older brother gave up his right arm (and this cost him his life) to save Scar’s life. That’s a pretty clear parallel to Ed giving up his own right arm to save his brother’s life. And later, Scar will give up his brother’s right arm to save Ed’s brother’s life. Yeah. Al really attracts sacrifice, okay? Al even starts developing survivor’s guilt over this. The series actually ends with Ed giving up his life to save his brother (though it only costs him the arm and leg he just got back. And to be stuck in another world...). And then there’s Al sacrificing himself to save his brother’s life.

Now, Ed and Al are a pair of alchemist brothers, who learned alchemy from their father’s notes. That is strikingly similar to another pair of brothers.

Russell and Fletcher Tringham steal Ed and Al’s identity in order to pose as credible alchemists so they can research and create a Philosopher’s stone. They are skilled alchemists themselves. Russell is pretty cocky and wants to bring Xenotime to its former glory through the use of alchemy. He’s willing to do some pretty immoral things to achieve this though.

Fletcher also wants to save Xenotime but he is more conflicted. However, he is scared to speak against his brother and has been reluctantly going along with things. Al emphasises with Fletcher and encourages him to confront his older brother, indirectly revealing some of the guilt Al feels for keeping quiet and going along with the human transmutation. Russell has been ignoring the warning signs, driven to believe he’s good enough to fix things. They’ve wound up on a similar path to the Elrics and the Elrics encourage them to find a new path even as they continue in their search. They see themselves in the Tringhams and warn them against it.

There’s one other pair of brothers Edward encounters and they remind him of his own brother.

No. 48. A pair of serial killer brothers who were both bonded to a suit of armour. The two of them are very much in sync given how they fight together, trade a bit of banter and are willing to protect each other while Ed is fighting them.

They’re also more literally bonded by past deeds than the other characters on this list. They both have to live as souls bonded to armour and it makes them feel inhuman. Seeing their hate for their current existence motivates Ed into fixing his own brother. It really drives home the horror of Al’s experience, helping to justify the identity crisis Al has while Ed fights the slicer brothers. Of course, Ed is driven to win by recalling his devotion to his brother. It’s ironic.

Ed is distraught when the Younger brother chooses to take his own life, no doubt thinking of Al. The older brother understands his brother completely though and tries to be comforting towards Ed though it doesn’t really help much. Mostly this whole experience really shakes Ed up and an episode later, Lust kills the older slicer brother while threatening to do the same to Al.

...

Okay, there’s one other pair I want to bring up though they’re not actually related.

Roy and Hughes have been close friends for a very long time. Hughes even goes to visit Roy to find he’s very nearly performed human transmutation. He challenges Roy on the issue, encouraging him to live and move on. When Roy tells him he wants to be Fuhrer, Hughes is there to say he’ll support him. We don’t learn too much about their history, but its obvious they are very close and both of them are also close to the Elric brothers.

A big reason to trust Roy in 03 is because Hughes cares so much about him. Hughes is the only person he reveals his worries and weaknesses to and Hughes really looks out for him. After Hughes is killed, Roy can’t bear to face Hughes’ wife Gracia, feeling some guilt and misery over his death. At Hughes’ grave, the piano version of Bratja/Brothers plays, as Roy mourns his dearest friend’s passing.

So, Episode 38: With the River’s Flow, begins with Ed and Al in a fight. Then the two of them go off to sulk alone for a while.

Ed’s angry and muttering about how irritating Al is but then he unthinkingly asks Al to pass the salt as he’s eating. Edward seems to realise that he’s driven Al away and he suddenly misses him. Immediately, he gets up and goes to look for him. The two of them are extremely codependent and can’t stay separated for long. Al, across town, is walking around, muttering about how stubborn Ed is to himself when someone taps him on the back and he immediately says: “Ed, where were you?” only to realise it isn’t his brother.

Ed has a flashback to when the two of them were kids and shows that they were close then too. They got into fights and they would run off but then Ed would come to his senses and go to look for his brother.

Ed doesn’t offer an apology out loud or anything. He just dismisses their fight, showing he’s forgiven his brother and Al smiles and runs after him. In the present, Ed finds Al at the river (which the episode is named for) and dismisses the fight the same way he did when they were kids. That’s very much Ed and Al’s dynamic.

During Al’s identity crisis, Al runs away and Ed wants to run after him (ready to throw himself off the roof even, because Ed’s always freaking out over his brother.) But Al takes some time to think through things while Ed and Winry spend that episode looking for Al. Upon meeting up again, they make up. Whatever happens they always forgive and go looking for each other.

Speaking of Brothers it would remiss of me to neglect to mention one other character.

A homunculus created by Hohenheim in an attempt to bring back his dead son. Envy. He’s essentially Ed and Al’s half-brother. This is only revealed in the final episodes and Envy is a rejection of all the prior brotherly relationships we’ve seen explored throughout the series. Envy hates his family and takes great pleasure in tormenting the Elric brothers. Ed’s so shocked by the reveal that it gives Envy the upperhand, and he takes the opportunity to stab Edward through the chest. He laughs about it in victory.

Envy is a disaster but you can also see how he came to be the way he is. He’s never been loved by anyone, not his father who rejected and abandoned him and not Dante who uses and manipulates him to serve her needs. Envy does have reasonably decent relations with the other homunculi though - they seem to have bonded a little over shared circumstances. Envy gets on well with Lust and Sloth and at first seemed like a bit of an older brother to Wrath almost. He’s too mean and impatient to have a proper relationship though.

At the gate, Edward warns Envy not to cross through but Envy doesn’t listen and marches away, smiling. Edward’s face is covered in tears, both for Al who he’s losing and perhaps for Envy who could have been a better person were he not so bitter and full of hate.

Envy is an exception to all these different characters throughout the show who have strong familial bonds that they depend on. These bonds are often the only thing they can rely on when they’re hit with life’s tragedies as all these characters have very angsty backstories. No bond is more explored more than Ed and Al’s relationship, so this overview has mostly revolved around them.

Fullmetal Alchemist is the story about two brothers trying to regain what they lost and their relationship is central to the story. Through other characters we can see different aspects of it. The Tringhams, walking a dangerously similar path to them. Scar, who wishes his relationship with his brother could have been like Ed and Al’s. Roy, who is trying to do right and learn to live with the loss of his best friend. Rick and Leo, who are struggling together with each other and other Ishvalan refugees. And Envy, a chilling example of their antithesis.

Ed and Al’s relationship is very much my favourite part of the series.

It’s why the ending is so tragic.

....

#fma #fma 2003 #edward elric #Alphonse Elric #gosh these two are the best #scar being compared with Al is so interesting too #the slicer brothers are just painful #not to mention hughes and roy #all these posts and I've not yet spoken about winry #i think i should do a post on her soon #there's not really any sisters in fma #With the rivers flow is actually really short #most of the episode is about sheska and winry #i love it though #scars brother is crazy #hes amazing #envy is tragic when viewed from this perspective #ed's teary face #but seriously there's so much more i could talk about on their relationship #i only briefly talked about the identity crisis #there's also everything with greed #and wrath #and sloth #ed willing to kill for his brother #al willing to kill for his brother #in cos he sacrifices wrath for ed #and in main series he wanted to rip eds limbs off of wrath #the bit with the cat is adorable too #ed being overprotective is everywhere #this post still turned out so long

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