#CONSEQUENCES DICKHEAD LOOK 'EM UP

[stories-and-chaos]

Tarnished pt 22

[Helluva Boss AU where Blitzø’s childhood theft from Stolas’ palace is discovered and major consequences ensue for everyone involved.]

[Part 22/?? Word count: 1236 Cw: drug use, addiction, language]

—————

Barb sorted through Fizzarolli’s fan mail in her tiny office. Ostensibly, she was her friend’s bodyguard whenever he was in Greed; she was also acting as his assistant. Mammon didn't want anyone on his payroll wasting time. Technically, she worked for Fizz, which meant she could refuse the Sin. But doing administrative tasks when Fizz wasn’t surrounded by fans kept Mammon from grumbling at his brand face.

And he needed help with the mail. The Fizzies had launched in full two weeks before the fifth annual clown pageant. Fizzarolli had won that as well; his upgraded extendable limbs added to his already impressive act.

Barb had to give some credit to Mammon, he knew how to market people and products. Fizz’s second win in a row and his comeback story with the launch of Fizzy robots for every occasion, all of Hell knew the imp’s face. And they were willing to pay Mammon’s prices for merchandise.

All that exposure meant fans and fans meant all sorts of messages. Letters, forum messages, Sinstagram posts, fanart both wholesome and lewd. Mammon had a PR team for all the digital content, since that was public. The physical mail also went through the PR team before being sent to Fizz. There was still a massive amount needing replies, which Barb was helping with.

“Jesus H. Christ,” she muttered, sorting through the day's pile. There wasn’t anything dangerous in the envelopes, Mammon’s people saw to that. But the amount of requests for feet pics, pictures of Fizz without his prosthetics, offers for ‘a good time’ and straight up pornographic fanart was ridiculous. Barb felt like her eyes needed bleach some days, but she didn’t want her friend dealing with this nonsense alone. “I keep telling the assholes to not send the skeevy shit but do they listen? Noooooo, it’s ‘not their job to moderate content.’ Bullshit, you’re a PR team, it is your fucking job.”

The rejected pile steadily rose and the accepted pile gradually had a few letters added. Then she saw a name that made her want to scream. More than fan mail sorting usually did.

Blitzø.

Her fucking traitor twin. The scumbag who left- who abandoned his family and friends to be a royal pet. And now he was sending Fizzarolli fan mail?!

“What the fuck are you pulling Blitzo?” she hissed at the envelope in her claws. Nothing from him for years and once Fizz is successful and famous he tries to contact them? Not even ‘them,’ the envelope was addressed to Fizz.

Barb could tell from the feel of the envelope there were several pages in the letter. She wasn’t going to read it and she sure as shit wasn’t going to send it Fizz’s way. Most of the rejected mail was just shredded. She scrawled ‘RETURN TO SENDER’ in bold red marker. Hopefully the asshat would get the hint.

Later that day, as she and Fizz were finishing up the handful of responses to fans (mostly to kids) she debated on whether to tell him about the letter. Barb decided she’d better, in case the traitor tried to get in touch another way.

“You got another letter that went into the reject pile.” Fizz quirked an eyebrow. She usually didn’t mention the mail she filtered out unless it was important or particularly hilarious. “It was from Blitzo.”

Fizz gripped the pen he was using. His mechanical fingers twitched and the plastic tube snapped in half, creating a spray of ink. Ichor drained from his face, then his cheeks flushed again in anger. “The fuck does that asshole want?”

Barb shrugged. “Dunno. Didn’t read it, I just sent it back. Figured it can’t be that important, coming from a traitorous dickhead only when you’re famous.” He looked at her, anger at Blitzo warring with gratitude for her in his expression. “If he sends any more, I’ll send ‘em right back. Should probably tell the PR guys he might contact you another way though.”

He dumped the ruined gel pen in the trash bin and grabbed a tissue to clean his hand. “Fuck, Ozzie’s gonna be pissed if this gets in the joints. Thanks for looking out for me Barb.”

“Course Fizz. We look out for each other, right?” She decided to ignore his mention of Asmodeus. He’d been spending more time with the Sin of Lust, even now that the Fizzy robot development was done for the time being. What the fuck is it with royal demons and imp guys? she thought to herself.

Fizzarolli gave her a shaky smile and tossed the ink covered tissue into the trash. “Well I’m not up for answering more mail. Wanna call it a day and grab something terrible for us?”

Barb stood up and stretched, popping vertebrae down her spine and tail. “Thought you had a dinner meeting with Asmodeus.” She knew he did, she had to know his schedule. If he was going to be with a Deadly Sin, he really didn’t need her acting as bodyguard.

“Shit, I almost forgot. It’s not business though, if you wanna join u-“

“I’ll pass. Don’t wanna be a third wheel and all that shit.” She’d tagged along with Fizz and Ozzie once before and swore never again. Not unless she had her own date. No matter how much the two men denied it, she could see where things were headed.

Fizz stammered, “We-we’re not an item Barb! I keep telling you, it’s just business and the occasional fuck.”

“So if tonight isn’t business it’s the ‘occasional’ fuck.” She made air quotes as she walked out of the room with him. “Still don’t wanna be around for that Fizz. Have fun, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Fizz waved as she headed out the building; he had to text Ozzie to send a car up to Greed and wait for his ride.

Getting something terrible to eat sounded amazing though, so she got cheap Chinese food on the way home. The staff knew her usual order and she soon had a takeout bag in one hand and an extra egg roll to snack on as she walked.

Her studio apartment, decorated haphazardly in rock music paraphernalia, was unsurprisingly empty. She managed to keep most of her emotions at bay as she watched a hellanovella and devoured her fried rice. But there was an end to the episode and comfort food.

Anger and confusion and loneliness bubbled up. She chucked an empty takeout box at the wall and gripped the sides of her head. “Goddammit Blitzo! You’re not even here and you’re fucking up my life.” Just the reminder that he existed sent her spiraling into the worst memories.

Her brother abandoning them. Her mom covering bruises. Her dad’s rising anger towards her and Fizz. Straining to match Fizz as a partner. Fighting creeps and stalkers. The fire. Finding Fizz. Finding…her mom.

“FUCK!” she yelled, throwing a wooden chopstick after the box. She didn’t want to think about it. She didn’t want to think about anything. Barb had promised herself she wouldn’t use again; she’d been clean the past four months. But Barb four months ago hadn’t expected Blitzo to resurface. So today’s Barb unblocked her dealer’s number to see if she could hook her up fast.

As it turned out, her dealer could. And she got a second ‘something terrible’ that let her not think about anything until the high wore off.

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#helluva fanfiction #helluva blitzo #helluva boss #helluva au #helluva fizzarolli #fizzarolli #blitzø #blitzo #barbie wire #cw addiction #cw drugs

[mariinara]

Hey! Could I request a hc for Sam (or anyone else, your choice!) for what he would be like having a crush on the reader during these adventures😩 i love him so much and your fics are just making me fall for him even more djdndjs

A/N: A-HAAAA!!! Adventure time BABYYYY. I'm so glad I'm managing to spark the love for Sam in you <3 it makes me so fucking happy .

Tags: @missdictatorme , @marshmallow--3 , @samdrakeftw , @tomsparkyr , @lilsnatch , @mellow-em , @unchartedterritoria , @bluewingedangel , @the-drakeboys , @the-winchesterboys

Warnings: ummm,, sam pining without knowing he's pining? him being a dick?? and facing the consequences of his actions?? (we love a dickhead), violence, mention of sex, smoking, etc..

This gets a bit long, guys. Sorry! I got carried away :")

-first thing's first, you might be wondering: what am I doing rummaging through lost cities with THE sam drake.

-SIMPLE.

-Sam's got a certain contact. Said contact goes by the name "Victor Sullivan" or "Sully" for his closer acquaintances.

-Sam called, asking if Sully knew any REALLY good archaeologists to help him on his next trailblazing adventure to Greece.

-Sully could only sigh, tell him that whatever he was up to, Sully won't be joining him, and gave him your number.

-Before Sam could hang up, though, Sully left him with a couple of warnings about you.

-First, you were like family to Sullivan. So no luring her into his bed and no flirting or hanky panky or any of the stuff Sam did when a gorgeous woman was in his proximity.

-Second warning was "Do NOT fuck with her". He said it firmly. Stressed on every letter he uttered. He told him that if he preferred his head attached to his body, he'd better not say or try anything stupid.

-Sam could only respond with a dismissive "Sure, sure" before thanking him and quickly hanging up, taking a moment to think.

-He didn't know Sully would give him a female contact and – despite his warnings – couldn't help but wonder how attractive you'd be.

-He was intrigued by the fact that you seemed to be of the feisty sort and, frankly, he appreciated a good challenge.

-It didn't take him long to dial your number and wait for you to respond, which you did after only four beeps on the line.

-The voice that met his ear was strong. Professional. You'd only said "Hello?" and he gathered that you didn't really appreciate anyone who dared waste your time..

-He cleared his throat and set his slight intimidated feelings aside and introduced himself.

-The moment he said his name?

-You gave him a very telling "Oh."

-It was one word, but it was thick with disinterest and a hint of "Yikes. I heard about you. Didn't really like what I heard."

-He raised a brow and started proposing his idea. He laid it all out for you. Tried as much as he could to fill you in on what you'd be looking for and where and why and what leads he has.

-You listened intently. He spoke for over fifteen minutes, non-stop, and only got a couple of "mm-hmm"s and "okay"s out of you. Other than that, you were completely silent.

-"So? Whaddya say?"

-It was cute– How nervous he sounded. It felt like he was asking a girl to prom.

-The few seconds in which you were silent were torture to him. Absolute agony. But then?

-"Okay." You simply responded.

-It was very anti-climactic, but it put Sam more at ease.

-"We'll discuss the cut tomorrow morning in the airport. See you at 9 A.M. sharp." was what you said.

-It was the longest sentence you'd uttered.

-And he was overwhelmed. Cut? Airport? 9 A.M.? What?

-He opened his mouth to speak, but the line went totally blank, meaning that – to his dismay – you hung up on him..

-He pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at his homescreen with a frown for a couple of seconds before putting the phone down and sighing.

-He just knew that this would be an absolute pain in the ass, but he got up and packed his bags and prepared himself for an early departure.

-He stuck to the time you spoke about. The moment he arrived to the entrance of the airport, he called you.

-No goodmornings, no hellos, no nothin'. You went right down to business.

-"I can see you." You spoke into the phone and Sam just frowned and looked around, "I'm inside."

-For some reason, the moment he squinted his eyes and looked through the transparent glass of the sliding doors, he spotted you in the small crowd of people.

-the moment you knew he saw you, you hung up and stood waiting for him.

-he took in a deep breath, told himself that he's got this, and walked in past the entrance door, his strides confident and wide.

-The first thing that caught your attention about him was how well-dressed he was despite the fact that you clearly saw he had no notion of what fashion was in the photos that Sully showed you.

-A tight white tee and a caramel-colored leather jacket and jeans paired with a pair of boots was definitely not the look you thought he'd be sporting.

-You only gave him a head tilt, looked him up and down to the point where he gave you a confused and concerned look.

-Before he could open his mouth, you smacked your hand against his chest, "your ticket"

-He blinked and looked down, gently plucking the ticket from underneath your palm.

-You then turned away and left him, only for him to roll his eyes, pinch the bridge of his nose, and follow you.

-On your way there, you didn't really talk at first. If Sam was being frank, he was too intimidated to talk to you at all.

-The fact that he was sat next to you on the plane made him severely uncomfortable for some reason, but he stayed rooted to his aisle seat.

-That was until you spoke, sort of quietly, "I think we should split the profits 70/30."

-Sam slowly turned his head towards you, brows furrowed and mouth hanging ajar in slight shock.

-He scoffed. Your statement shifted something within him, and instead of being intimidated, he was pissed.

-"I think you should bite me."

-You glared at him, "I assume you don't know what exactly I can bring to the table."

-"The only thing you've brought to the table so far is unreasonable audacity." He quickly bit back.

-You inhaled deeply, jaw clenched, "Fine." You softly said, smiling, "It was great meeting you, Mr. Drake." You started unbuckling your seat belt to get up.

-"Jesus– Stop. Wait–" He huffed, his hand holding your wrist to stop you from moving. You gave him a look, full of warning, and he pulled his hand back slowly, "50/50." He bargained.

-It was your turn to scoff.

-"Think 60/40."

-He narrowed his eyes at you, "55/45. And that's final."

-You stayed silent for a while, considering it, eyes glancing outside of the plane's window.

-You then turned to him with a smirk, "Deal."

-And you shook hands on it.

-He may have thought this was the last of your bickering.

-But, really?

-You were both a thorn in each other's sides and you were so out of sync that it was impossible to work together.

-You'd bicker at the SMALLEST of things.

-He was so morally grey and untrustworthy that it was hard to not pull the trigger when you threatened him with a gun.

-But he'd prove useful so many times. And instead of pulling a gun at him, you'd try to jab at his lack of principle, which would irk him beyond belief, but it'd work in getting him to move his ass every time.

-So, instead of not giving a single fuck about causalities, Sam started evacuating buildings and avoid public shootouts.

-You'd save his ass when the odds were a hundred-percent against him. Had it been you, he would've been dead.

-But he was so extremely ungrateful and full of himself that his response to his aid would be "Thanks, but I had it under control."

-The second time you saved his ass and he mouthed you? You were stressed and wounded and it was a stab to your morale and you didn't really understand why you cared about his reaction that time, but it caused you to push him away and shut yourself out in your own hotel room for the night to avoid seeing him at all.

-And for once? He felt bad about it.

-The next day, as you got close to uncovering an underground secret in Thessaloniki, you were ambushed, and a whole chase broke out.

-That time, it took a team effort from you and Sam, and – for once – you were extremely in sync and you were taking down bad guys, left and right.

-It was also that very same day when Sam knew he was astronomically fucked.

-During that chase, you managed to bring down an entire truck that's been trailing you with a missile launcher, and you celebrated by throwing your hands in the air and letting out the most genuine, excited, and soulful laugh.

-And he couldn't help but feel his heart swell at the sound and the sight of you looking at him in excitement to ask him if he had seen what you'd just pulled.

-It was extremely in-fucking-convenient.

-When Sully called in to check up on both of you, though?

-It was late at night, when Sam was having a smoke out in the hotel room's balcony, and you were fast asleep in his bed, your bare back given to the balcony, your breaths even and calm.

-You had a small argument in his bedroom earlier, right after you came back from that chase.

-It was something about the next location you'd be exploring. The moment you told him that what you both were after wasn't in the spot you were in, he was mad.

-The man was impatient and had a bruised ego. But it was no way to treat you or talk to you.

-He'd said some uncalled for things. Things about regretting recruiting you. And you spewed back with the same venom. Something about him being unprofessional and selfish and extremely ungrateful.

-Everything that has happened. All those harbored feelings.. They built up to that exact moment when you were arguing, back and forth. The tension, the thickness of the air..

-It was like a dam collapsed.

-Two weeks, leading up to that moment.

-There was a sort of gravity between you two, still. It pulled you closer as your yelling dissipated.

-And it happened. You just fit together. It made sense when it definitely shouldn't have.

-There was no time for regrets. It happened so quickly. Your bodies were hot and sweaty and your minds and hearts were racing.

-The day came when you were finally tangled in his sheets.

-But, oh, you were in trouble.

-Because if Sam Drake was anything, he was the embodiment of heartache.

-But you didn't care.

-He didn't care.

-Sully did, though. And his call was cut short when Sam said that the both of you were fine and progressing just okay.

-He promised that he wasn't involved with you like that.

-He'd turned to look at your sleeping form when he spewed that load of crap to Sully through the phone.

-It was a sleepless night for him, though.

-The next day, you had to take a boat to your destination.

-Part of him hoped that you'd be in a better mood now that you'd done what you'd done, and another part hoped that you'd pretend like nothing ever happened.

-And you did. You pretended like nothing ever fucking happened.

-That's what he wanted, right?

-Then why did that bother him so fucking much?

-Something changed, though.

-You may have seemed the same towards him, but the question you asked as he drove the boat proved that you wanted to know more about him.

-Dare he say, you seem to have wanted the night before to have meant something.

-So you asked about how he met Sully.

-And he told you everything. It was so easy to, after all. Something about you.. was warm. Inviting. And that was something he hadn't really felt with you before.

-He told the tale: starting from how his family was into this whole history and treasure-hunting palooza, up until the point where he finished a job with Sully in Portugal.

-He was an incredible storyteller. Never lost you once. He kept you on track with anecdotes and jokes and he was so.. human. He was real. Tangible. Not just someone you were going to finish this job with and never talk to again.

-Unfortunately for you, that meant trouble.

-See— Sully had warned Sam about you. At the same time, Sully warned you about Sam.

-Sully knew how much you liked trouble. You practically craved it. Either it was chasing you or you were chasing it. It was in the cards for you. Always has been and it seems like it always will.

-Him warning you was because he knew that Sam would be your exact cup of tea.

-Funny enough, you and Sam had done a great job not listening to a word Sully had said.

-Your little adventure with Sam spiraled down to you obtaining exactly what you wanted, but being ambushed at the exact time you'd found it, triggering – not a chase – but a face-off between you and Sam, and the lady who was behind all of those mercenaries tailing you since you'd started.

-She was gorgeous. Tall. Greek. Model-esque. And wonder of wonders, she had very brief but extremely passionate history with Sam, by the looks of it.

-Of course!

-You weren't surprised. Just disappointed that he never thought of telling you.

-So that made for a very intense conversation between him and the villainous young woman who stood in your way all that time.

-You were out of that face-off for a while. Watching the lady spew venom at Sam as she walked around him, circling him like a hawk, touching him from time to time.

-She subtly called him a liar. A petty little thief. A self-centered, self-absorbed man who has no capacity for love or care at all.

-And that's when you stepped in.

-"You're wrong about him." You turned to her, determined, fists clenched and eyes glaring into her own, sharp blue ones.

-"He knows I'm not." She immediately responded.

-"You don't know what's in his heart." You argued.

-She only smirked, "Oh, yes, I do." She turned to Sam, "And, more importantly, so does he."

-Sam was looking at you that whole time, sort of pleasantly surprised by your outburst despite the circumstances, but he glared at the woman of the hour again when she looked at him with a knowing smirk.

-"In your tiny little heart, you know you'd turn your back on her once you get what you want. Not to shit on your parade, but that's a commendable trait you've got there, Samuel. I always appreciate a good dicking-over." Her thick accent spoke, earning an impatient exhale from Sam.

-But, oh lord.

-Shit hit the fan so quickly when Sam gave her a bitter smile, clung to the ancient book you've both been looking for, and turned to walk away after excusing himself from this waste of time.

-A shoot-out started on the island.

-It was loud and you and Sam were in no way ready for all of those goons, but you made do with what you had and stole what you didn't have to carry on the fight.

-He got a little hurt, admittedly. A few bullet grazes there, a couple of bruises from hand-to-hand combat here.

-And you? You took care of the woman who's been bothering the two of you this entire trip. It was a full-on rumble between two women who knew how to knock someone the fuck out.

-It was second nature in both of you.

-So it took you a while to take her down. The final blow that knocked her out was when you lifted her up by the neck and slammed her down onto a wooden table in her hideout, the wood completely giving in under her weight.

-That was when Sam called for you.

-The shootout was over and so was your fight with the Greek lady. The hideout was quiet, and you called back for Sam so he could come up to you and finally find you.

-And he did.

-He looked like shit, but he found you, and when he did, he ran towards you and cupped your cheeks in his bruised, blood-stained hands, thumbs stroking the aching skin of your cheeks, forehead against yours, "Jesus.." He breathed out a chuckle, "You're okay. We're okay."

-And you limped out of the hideout, the book in the messenger back that was around your torso.

-You made it all the way down to the shore again, the salty air feeling kind of annoying against your skin instead of refreshing, but it was so peaceful and it prodded you to sit down on the warm sand, pulling Sam down with you.

-And you pulled a walkie-talkie from your belt.

-"Any time now, buddy." You spoke into it, gaining a confused Sam's attention.

-"Hold tight. I'm about to land her." Sully spoke through the device, making you smile softly, being careful so as not to irritate you're already cut lip.

-Sam laughed in relief, falling back into the sand with his arms spread, letting the warmth of the grainy landscape embrace him.

-"You're an angel." He panted, completely dazed and unaware, "I love you."

-Your smile dropped and you froze, your brows furrowing and your body slowly turning at the waist to look down at Sam, who seemed to be processing what you just said. Hoping – just a little – that you didn't hear that.

-"What did you say?" You asked, eyes narrowed and tone amused.

-"I was hoping you didn't catch any of that." He spoke after a couple of silent seconds.

-You grinned, "I did."

-"Can we pretend you didn't? I have really bad head trauma. In fact, I think I might have a little concussion and–"

-You silenced him by leaning down and pressing a kiss against his bruised lips, your hand on his chest and his hand finally holding the back of your head as your lips moved against each other.

-You were so lost in the kiss that the strong gust of wind from Sully's plane landing didn't do anything to pull you apart from each other.

-"Fuck's sake..." Sully mumbled, his hands on his hips as he shook his head at both of you, standing at the entrance to his plane, "I knew I couldn't trust either of you to behave!" He yelled over the wind.

-"Hey, Sullivan!" Sam greeted, giving him a small wave, "Good to see ya."

-You pulled away with a sheepish smile, your eyes looking into Sam's hazel ones before you turned your head to look at Sully with a grin.

-Sully muttered an "oh, brother" as he rolled his eyes, "Whatever! Just hop onto the goddamn plane, would'ja?!"

-Sam smiled and watched as Sullivan turned to go back to the driver's seat.

-"Y'know what?" Sam looked at you, "Somethin' tells me he's not very happy about us." He smiled, his joy becoming more evident as you laughed.

-"Right, smartass." You stood up and pulled him up with you, "Let's get going, huh?"

-Sam wrapped his arm around your shoulder as you walked to the plane, a sigh escaping him as you did.

-"So.. about that profit cut." He started.

-"Sam." You warned.

-"What?"

-"Don't ruin it."

#sam drake #samuel drake #sam drake x reader #uncharted #hc

[methoxyethane]

Reddie Fic: “Stupid and Sleazy”

For @ambitiousskychild

Richie got to his basement for movie night first, which made sense considering it was his house. Also they all had to wait to meet a few hours after school got out, on account of the fact that Eddie had track meet and Mike had work, so Richie had stalled by sneaking off to the clubhouse to get stoned with Bev, but that really hadn’t taken up that much time.

They’d only had half a joint left between the two of them so most of his high had already worn off by the time Eddie came thumping downstairs, but Richie didn’t mind. Sobriety was only a burden when he was alone, and right now his favorite person in the world had just shown up and Richie could focus all his attention on bothering the shit out of him.

There was a couch sitting on the far wall from the TV that was usually first-come first-serve, but for today Richie had already plopped himself down onto the floor in front of it and Eddie didn’t bother with the furniture in favor of the spot on the floor next to Richie.

He practically collapsed onto the old worn out rug covering the hard concrete of the basement floor, sweat still staining the back of his shirt in a V. 

“Nice to smell you, Eds. Did you run all the way here from practice? You still reek of sweat.”

“And you reek of weed stank,” Eddie shot back, spreading his legs out in front of him and leaning back against the seat of the couch. “And yes, I did run all the way here. Track got cut short when Cody fell and twisted his ankle, so I had to get a little extra practice somehow.”

“And you didn’t even nurse him back to health with your sweet sweet love? Poor Cody.” Richie could not actually smell the sweat Eddie was wiping from his brow, but he kind of wished he could. The dank musty smell of his basement overpowered most of whatever other scents might have been in the air, so Richie was not able to indulge in whatever filthy fantasies of Eddie’s skin the smell might have induced in him. Pity.

But once again, definitely for the best. Richie was getting worse and worse at suppressing his attraction to Eddie as the years went on and the Losers all grew into their bodies, and it was only by virtue of his naturally filthy mouth letting him get away with any trash talk that entered his mind that he hadn’t managed to expose himself. Any time he said something lewd or inappropriate everyone just laughed it off as another joke, and thus Richie was saved form humiliation for another day.

Still, when they were all alone like this, it wasn’t easy. Eddie’s skinny frame was filling out with the muscles he’s earned from the track team, still lithe but more solid and less breakable than he’d been in his youth. It looked good on him, and he had more confidence because of it, which looked even better on him than the track shorts did.

Okay, that was probably a lie. Nothing looked better than Eddie’s legs in those short shorts. Except probably his smile, but somehow, Richie felt less gay admiring his calves than he did when he got lost in Eddie’s smile, so. He tried not to count that.

Richie also tried not to go to Eddie’s track meets. Not because he didn’t want to - in fact the complete opposite. Eddie looked good when he ran; the sweat rolling down his neck and the flex of his legs as they propelled him across the track. But most of all his eyes. He had this look on his face when he ran, a look of concentration and contentment at the same time, a look of having fallen completely into his Zone where nothing mattered but the feel of the wind on his face and the burn of his muscles as they worked, like his entire world narrowed down to his his body and the pavement and nothing else.

It made Richie feel things, made him happy to see his friend so comfortable with himself and his body but also made him… Jealous, maybe? That he wasn’t sure of what. He didn't really know what this cold black feeling in his chest was, just knew it was because Eddie had his eyes straight forward and not anywhere near where Richie was, and that was enough for Richie to make him wanna throw things at the track to trip Eddie up, just so he’d have to whip around and yell at Richie, just so his attention would be on him again.

So Richie didn’t watch Eddie run much. The sad side effect of that was that he barely got to see Eddie in those fabulous little shorts he wore to practice, but luckily for him - or maybe unluckily - Eddie hadn’t bothered to change out of his track clothes before he came to Richie’s house, and was thusly wearing said shortie shorts right at this very moment.

Their legs were only inches apart, close enough for Richie to bump his feet into Eddie’s for no other purpose than to annoy his friend. And maybe to distract himself, because Eddie’s legs were long and finely toned and right there, close enough to be able to casually rest his hand on Eddie’s bare thigh if only he had the excuse.

Eddie had managed to already get wrapped up in what Richie had been watching on the TV while he was waiting for his friends to show up, the very same show that Richie himself had already forgotten about pretty much the second Eddie had entered the room. So at least for now Richie had the privilege to keep staring at Eddie’s legs, because they were close enough to being in line of sight to the TV that Eddie wouldn’t notice he was being leered at.

Richie felt gross for a second, until he remembered the last time everyone had gotten together. He thought of the casual way Ben and Bev acted now that they’d officially gotten together, the way Ben was allowed to casually touch her legs and she only gave him a warm smile, even if she was wearing a dress or skirt and his hand landed on her bare skin. 

How easy it was for them. Ben had been allowed to express his love for her practically as soon as they met, been able to write a love poem and give it to her even knowing he could be rejected. Richie didn’t have that luxury, though. Richie liked another boy, and that came with consequences. That came with shame, and it came with name-calling and ass kickings, and here in Derry sometimes even straight up murders. Richie couldn’t write Eddie love poems about how his eyes or his lips or his laugh, couldn’t tell Eddie how he felt, because even though he knew Eds loved him enough to put up with his bullshit that didn’t mean he loved him enough not to shun him once he found out the lustful thoughts Richie held for him, not to be disgusted by the mere thought of the true depth of Richie’s admiration.

Shit. He was too stoned for this kind of melodrama this early in the evening. Richie shook the depressing thoughts from his mind, and decided that it was way better to just enjoy Eddie’s company as it was then to pine over the thought of more.

“You MUST be stoned,” Eddie said suddenly. “I can think of like ten dick jokes you missed in the last five minutes of this show alone.”

“That many? I must be rubbing off on you,” Richie said automatically. “Come a little closer and I bet you could help me rub something else off, too.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and elbowed Richie in the side, but even that joke wasn’t enough to make him slide away from where Richie was sitting on the floor next to him. “Dickhead.”

“I can’t help if my junk is so big it takes all the blood flow from my brain. With how big my dick it, we’re lucky I have a working brain at all.”

“Someone told you you have a working brain? I’m sorry to break this to you, but they lied.”

Richie laughed, relaxing enough to bump his shoulders into Eddie’s. This was why he liked him so much, right there. Who else could keep up with Richie’s jokes and turn them back on his ass so fast? Well, maybe Stan, but only when he felt like it. Eddie though, his reaction timing was always perfect, whether it was with a snide comeback or a simple scoff, it never failed to make Richie feel accomplished.

Eddie went back to focusing on the TV, but Richie wasn’t able to concentrate on it. They were still alone, and Eddie’s bare legs were still right in front of him, so there was pretty much nothing on TV that could be more deserving of his attention.

Richie licked his lips unconsciously, wondering if there was some excuse he could come up with to touch them. To lay his hand on Eddie’s bare thigh like Ben could do with Beverly, without shame or fear. Was he that sleazy, though? Sleazy enough to fish for any excuse to get closer to the guy he liked?

Hm. Yes. Yes, Richie was that sleazy, he decided. 

“God, Eds, have you seen your legs lately? You’re growing so much hair on ‘em, soon you’re gonna look like a yeti in those little shorts of yours.”

And with that, one hand landed on Eddie’s thigh, patting his leg idly before Richie kind of…. Left it there, and didn’t take his hand back. Just to see what would happen.

“It’s called growing up, Richie, if you had any pubes yet yourself you’d have noticed that this is natural.”

And the funny thing was, he didn’t do the completely normal thing and swat Richie’s hand away. He let Richie lay his hand on his leg, made a snide joke and just sort of… Went back to watching TV. Like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Richie consciously suppressed the shiver that wanted to run down his spine, knowing if he shook at all in this moment Eds would be able to feel it through their point of contact. Play it cool, Rich. Just keep calm and see how long you can make this last before Eddie calls you a freak.

What felt like anywhere between five seconds and five minutes passed, and Eddie made no move to dislodge the hand from his leg. Carefully, slowly, Richie moved his hand down Eddie’s thigh, the touch soft enough it could be unconscious. Then he slid his hand back up again, fingers and palm so feather light that his skin glided across Eddie’s like butter.

Eddie’s thigh was solid under his hand, the hairs thin and feather-soft, muscles hard and smooth with just enough plush give to make Richie want to squeeze. He didn’t dare, just continued sliding his and carefully up and down the length of Eddie’s thigh, waiting to be slapped away with the excuse that he was still stoned and feeling particularly tactile ready on his tongue.

Eventually, after a length of time he had no way of judging in his current distracted state, he dared to glance at Eddie out of the corner of his eye. He had his eyes still focused on the TV, but there was a light dusting of red spread across his face, a blush gone uncontained. Richie didn’t dare to think of what it might mean. Just kept gently running his hand up and down the skin of Eddie’s bare thigh, letting himself pretend that it was because Eddie didn’t just not mind his touch, but actively welcomed it.

And then, to break the tension, the door at the top of the stairs swung open and footsteps started to descend down the stairs. Eddie jerked away like he’d been burned, quickly folding his legs underneath himself and out of Richie’s reach, face burning bright red as he looked at the staircase to see who had arrived.

Mike was stopped halfway down the stairs with a blank expression on his face. 

“Hey, Mike and Ikes,” Richie greeted, waving at him with the hand that had just been forcibly removed from Eddie’s leg. “How was work?”

Mike, for his part, didn’t say a word. Just turned right around and walked back upstairs, face completely devoid of any expression as he left the basement.

“G-great, now look what you’ve done!” Eddie scolded, face still burning red as he shot a glare at Richie. “You scared off Mike!”

“Doing what? Saying hello?” Richie said, playing innocent for lack of a better option.

Eddie huffed irritably at him, swatting his shoulder. “Just - watch where you put your hands, moron! You can’t do stuff like that when we’re not alone!”

Richie opened his mouth, but the words he had planned on saying were lost in favor of a startled, “So, it’s fine if we are alone, then?”

Eddie shot to his feet. “I - I’m going to go get a soda!” He dashed towards the stairs in a gazelle-like leap, shouting up at them, “Hey Mike, do you want any snacks?”

He left Richie sitting on the floor, dumbfounded. He stared at his hand, thinking of Eddie’s blushing face. 

Next time they were alone, he promised himself, he’d do something even stupider and sleazier.

—

#reddie #it #it 2017

[crownedbyluke]

Suits and Leather Jackets (Ch. 9)

Premise: Bryn’s first week at Catch Fire Advertising had been pretty simple, but when the CEO of the company, Luke Hemmings, asks her to dinner, she’s put in a position she’s unsure she wants to be in. With rumors swirling around them and Bryn wanting nothing more than to just be another employee, how long will it take before their bursting into light by each other’s company?

Word Count: 3,300

{Chapter One} {Chapter Two} {Chapter Three} {Chapter Four} {Chapter Five} {Chapter Six} {Chapter Seven} {Chapter Eight} {Chapter Nine} {Chapter Ten} {Chapter Eleven} {Chapter Twelve} {Chapter Thirteen} {Chapter Fourteen} {Chapter Fifteen} {Chapter Sixteen finale}

“Mr. Hemmings, you have a visitor,” the concierge’s voice rang through the speakers. I shook my head. If Bryn showed up, I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold out before giving into her.

“Who is it?” I asked, noticing how tired my voice sounded.

“A Becca Jefferson,” he said, my eyes widening.

“Why is she here?” I asked, my heart starting to beat faster. Why the hell would Becca come to my apartment? How did she know where I lived?

“She said that she wanted to talk to you about something,” he said, clearly confused.

“Send her up I guess,” I said, not feeling like fighting her on it. I waited for the elevator to open, my heartbeat speeding up from the nerves. Becca walked into my apartment, arms crossed over her chest, and a look of slight annoyance in her eyes. I went to say something, but she cut me off.

“Do you like her?” she asked, stopping a mere foot away from me.

“What are you-”

“Bryn. Do you have genuine feelings for her?” she asked, a slight anger to her tone.

“Well yeah, but-”

“She slept with Calum, I know. You weren’t together and Bryn knows how stupid it was. What’s really bothering you?” she asked, a finger jutting against my chest.

“Why the hell do you care? How do you know where I live?” I asked, the anger from earlier resurfacing.

“I know where you live because Bryn told me. Second, I care because my best friend is in her apartment bawling her eyes out over you. I get that it hurts and you’re mad at her, but are you seriously going to let one lapse of judgement keep you from going after her?” she asked, pushing her finger into my chest. I blinked a couple times, still staring at her in surprise. There was something in her words that reminded me of my mum. The memory of the day my UCLA acceptance letter came to mind, her words echoing in my head.

Your drive and dreams are demanding your attention Luke. Don’t let them fade away because you’re scared. Go fight for what you want.

A small smile came over my face as the memory faded, but when I looked back to Becca, I was reminded of what happened.

“Becca, how do you get to tell me what I want and how I feel? Yeah, Bryn made a mistake, but you have no idea that I was going to ask her if she still wanted space last night. You don’t know that I made plans to take her out to dinner if she said that she was ready to give me a chance. You don’t know me so please, get the hell out of my apartment,” I said, anger and frustration in my tone. She stared at me in shock, not expecting me to fight back.

“Then why don’t you tell her that? Go talk to her, fight with her, scream at each other, I don’t care. You two have genuine, deep feelings for each other. Don’t let that slip through your fingers because of twenty minutes in a fucking storage closet,” she said, turning to walk back to the elevator. My mind swirled from her last sentence. A storage closet? Twenty minutes? Had it really been so uncomfortable for her?

“Wait. They had sex in a storage closet?” I asked, moving towards her.

“Yeah. She didn’t orgasm either,” she said, the elevator dinging. I blinked a couple times again, seeing a smirking Mali walking out. Becca rolled her eyes at Mali before getting in.

“Think about it okay?” she said, just as the door were closing.

“What are we thinking about?” Mali asked after a moment.

“Don’t worry about it. Why the hell are you here?” I asked, walking back towards my kitchen.

“Thought you might want some company after last night,” she said, her hand coming to rest on my bicep as I leant against a counter.

“Why would I want company after last night?” I asked, my eyes looking down at her hand. She had two rings on her fingers that felt cool against my skin. The opal ring that I had gotten her for Christmas caught my eye.

“Because your precious Bryn fucked my brother,” she said casually. My eyes flicked back to her face.

“Mali, why are you-”

“Calum told me and I wanted to check on you. I know we aren’t together and we’re not exactly friends, but you don’t deserve to be messed with like that,” she said, her eyes showing how sincere she was. It was a look I hadn’t seen since we were dating.

“Why would you-”

“Can you just appreciate it and talk to me about what’s going through your head?” she asked, cutting me off. I stared down at her, the good memories of our time together flooding in. We had been good together the first year of being together and there was a part of me that thought we could go back to that now if I said so. I blocked out the voice in my head that was telling me to tell her to leave as I leant down. I connected our lips, bringing my hand up to cup her cheek. She moaned into my mouth and I made a mental note that it wasn’t the same as Bryn’s. As we moved towards my room, I kept making them. I had half the mind to stop what was happening, but once Mali’s mouth touched my skin, all my thoughts were gone. I pulled her shirt over her head and decided that I could wallow later. There was a part of me that knew I was only doing this to get back at Bryn and with Mali in front of me, pulling my pants down, I didn’t care.

Mali kissed me once more before she pulled herself from my bed to get dressed again.

“Still as good in bed as I remember,” she laughed, trying to lighten the mood. The guilt started to set in slowly as I replayed the night Bryn and I spent together. There hadn’t been the same connection with Mali as there was with Bryn. It felt like just sex whereas with Bryn, it felt like so much more.

“Let me know if you need anything yeah?” she asked, crawling back over to me.

“Yeah, will do,” I said, not looking at her. I closed my eyes as she kissed my cheek, not wanting to let her see my eyes and the mess of thoughts that was running through my head. I stayed in my bed as she left, lost in my thoughts, letting them wash over me. Becca’s words came to mind. Should I really go back to Bryn to fight, yell, maybe even scream at each other? My phone buzzed causing me to sigh. When I looked at the time, I was surprised by how late it was. It was just after six in the evening. Then again, I didn’t remember what time Mali came over. There was a text from my best mate, Ashton.

Hey mate! I’m in town. Let’s get partying yeah?

I laughed at the message, being able to hear his accent in my head.

I don’t know.

Luke, get your ass ready. We’re partying.

It’s almost six-thirty!

Pre-gaming. Fuck it, I’m coming over. Pull out your whiskey.

Fine.

I pulled myself from my bed, grabbing my boxers before walking over to the closet. I took a white shirt and my favorite leather jacket off the hangers, taking a pair of tight black pants out of the drawer. As I was styling my hair, I heard the familiar sound of Ashton’s boots on my floor.

“Where’s my man?” he called, his accent thicker than the last time I saw him.

“I’m not your man,” I said, walking into the open space.

“You might as well be. How’ve you been?” he asked as we shared a quick hug.

“Been better. You?” I asked, walking over to my liquor cabinet.

“You know me, always travelling. Met a girl the other night at a club. She seemed pretty cool, but I was a little too wasted so I don’t remember her name,” he said, grabbing two glasses. I poured the whiskey into the glasses and pushed one towards him.

“How’s the company?” he asked before we both downed the alcohol.

“Good. Taking down Hood and Family,” i said, wincing slightly at the burn in my throat.

“Drama. I love it. What’d the dickhead do?” he asked, pouring another dick.

“Fucked with a girl I have feelings for,” I admitted, taking the drink right away. I could feel Ashton staring at me, knowing that he would want more information.

“She must be something if she finally showed you how much of an ass that guy is,” he teased, taking a sip.

“Yeah, she is. Let’s not talk about it though,” I said, deciding to take a long swig straight from the bottle.

“Jesus dude, you never do that. You sure you’re good?” he asked, taking the bottle from me.

“Nope. Let’s just get wasted okay? I don’t wanna talk about it tonight,” I said, making the choice to forget instead of deal with it head on.

“Mate, you know that’s not a good way to deal,” Ashton said, watching me closely.

“Ashton, I don’t give a fuck. Get me wasted and let me handle the consequences later,” I said, all playfulness gone from my voice. Ashton just nodded before pulling a bottle of vodka from the cabinet.

“Then let’s get shitfaced,” he said, twisting off the cap easily. He took out the shot glasses and poured two full shots for us. We clinked glasses before throwing our heads back.

“Let’s go out,” Ashton suggested after another shot. I was starting to feel the buzz thrumming through my veins.

“Hell yes!” I cheered, giving him a smile. I grabbed my keys and locked up the apartment. Ashton lead the way to a bar down the street.

“Whatcha drinking good looking?” the bartender asked, her eyes giving me a onceover.

“Two long island iced teas. Make ‘em as strong as you can,” Ashton answered for me. I gave him another smile, thankful that he was there to take the lead for me. We finished our first drink before Ashton suggested going to a club. I followed along, not caring where we went, more focused on the next drink. I wasn’t nearly drunk enough yet. Ashton handed me another drink as he lead me out to the dance floor. I started dancing with a girl, the alcohol running through me causing a warm, fuzzy feeling. I felt light, the music taking me away from my thoughts. The girl turned around, grinding her ass against my groin. Her hair wasn’t as long as Bryn’s and it didn’t fall as nicely as hers either. Bryn. The girl wasn’t Bryn. I suddenly felt uncomfortable, like I was cheating on Bryn by dancing with this girl. I let go of her hips, moving off the floor. I needed to see Bryn. My feet carried me in my drunken haze to the train station. I stumbled over her steps before I got into her elevator. As the floor numbers ticked by, I felt the alcohol start to hit me harder. There was no recollection of what time it was at this point, but all my thoughts were of Bryn. It could have been two in the morning, but all I wanted was to see her face. I had to use the wall to keep myself up as I knocked my knuckles heavily against her door. After a minute of no answer, I knocked again. Had she fallen asleep already? I was about to knock for a third time when the door opened.

“Luke?” Bryn asked causing me to smile slightly at hearing my name come from her lips.

“Bryn,” I hummed, leaning against the wall.

“Are you drunk?” she asked. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot while her hair was in a messy bun. My eyes moved down, taking in the oversized hoodie and pajama shorts. I looked back at her face. She looked tired and in the back of my head, I knew it was because of me.

“Maybe,” I said, drawing out the ‘a’.

“Get in here. You’re practically falling over against the wall,” she said, wrapping her arm around my waist and tugging my arm over her shoulder.

Bryn groaned from my weight resting against her as she lead me into her apartment. She kicked the door shut and locked it before leading me towards her guest room.

“Why aren’t we going to your room?” I slurred as she set me on the bed.

“Because we aren’t together,” she said quietly. I watched her kneel in front of me, unlacing my boots to take them off.

“I wish we were,” I said, knowing that there was a look of fondness in my eyes. She sighed before she stood in front of me.

“I wish we were too,” she mumbled, pulling the leather jacket off my shoulders. I brought my hands to her waist, nudging her towards me.

“I wanna fall in love with you,” I said, hearing the way my voice cracked. My filter was completely gone and I didn’t care if I got myself in trouble with her. I needed her to know how I felt.

“You don’t mean that. Let me help you take this off,” she said, tugging on the sleeves. I shook my head, pulling her closer again.

“I mean it Bryn. You’re the girl of my dreams, the one my mum always said I would find,” I said, my eyes trained on her face. There were tears forming in her eyes.

“You’re not gonna remember this tomorrow,” she said, a small intake of breath able to be heard in the silence of the room.

“Then tell me in the morning if I don’t,” I argued, slipping my thumbs under her hoodie. Her skin felt soft, but cold as I rubbed my thumbs against it, making a nice contrast to the heat that I was feeling. Had she always been this cold? I couldn’t exactly remember, but I wanted to feel the coolness all the time.

“You have a hickey on your neck,” she whispered, her fingers brushing over my neck where I was guessing the mark was.

“From Mali,” I admitted, watching her face fall slightly.

“You had sex with her?” she asked, sniffling. I couldn’t tell if she was crying, but I still felt guilty for my actions earlier in the day.

“Yeah. I was mad at you so I wanted to get back at you,” I said, keeping my eyes on her. There was something so beautiful about her in the dark and standing in front of me.

“Let’s finish getting your jacket off,” she said, wiping at her cheek before tugging at the sleeves again. She was crying and it made me angry with myself all over again for making her upset. I slowly removed my hands from her waist so she could pull it off. She folded it and set it on the dresser. She started walking to the door.

“Don’t leave,” I begged, trying to stand up again, wobbling slightly.

“Sit down. I’m getting you some water,” she said, looking at me over her shoulder. I could see the way her eyes were glossy from the tears I was causing. I wanted to walk to her and brush them away, but I didn’t trust my own legs to make it to her swiftly. I listened to her, taking some comfort in the softness of the mattress. There was something about it that made me feel grounded. My eyes started to feel heavy as I waited for her to return.

“Can you drink this for me?” she asked, her voice soft as she brought the cool glass to my hand. I hadn’t seen or heard her walk back in. I nodded, very slowly bringing the glass to my mouth, feeling the warmth of her hand still on mine. I took a couple swigs before handing it back to her.

“Thank you,” I said, my eyes half open as she put the glass on the nightstand.

“Do you want more comfortable pants?” she asked. I felt her run her fingers through my hair, moving it out of my eyes and off my forehead.

“Please,” I said, a slight whine to my voice. The pants were starting to feel particularly tight and uncomfortable as I got more tired. I did my best to keep my eyes open so I could watch her. Even though it was dark in the room, I could make out her movements easily, a certain gracefulness to them that I hadn’t noticed before. I told myself to remember that in the morning, but there was little hope that I actually would.

“Can you stand for me?” she asked once she returned to me. I nodded and made a decent effort to not fall over. I felt her fingers pop the button on my pants before pulling them down my legs. Bryn lightly tapped my right leg, signaling me to lift my feet. I propped myself up so I wouldn’t fall over. She repeated the action on my left before having me sit down. Through heavy lidded eyes, I watched her put the sweatpants on my legs, again tapping me to finish putting them on.

“I’m gonna take off your shirt too okay?” she asked, standing back up. I nodded, the tiredness from the day and alcohol starting to make it hard to stay awake. I brought my hands back to her waist as she undid the buttons of my shirt.

“Are you mad at me for sleeping with Mali?” I slurred, as she pulled the shirt off.

“No. You aren’t mine,” she said, folding my shirt with my pants. Bryn came back to stand in front of me.

“I am,” I whispered, pulling her close to me.

“No Luke, you’re not. We aren’t together,” she said, repeating her words from earlier.

“But I wanna be. I was dancing with a girl tonight and all I could think about was you. Fuck, I’m always thinking about you,” I confessed, pulling her closer yet again. I wanted her to sit in my lap so I could really hold her, my need to be close to her taking over.

“You’re tired. You should get some sleep,” she said, keeping her hands by her side, barely brushing my arms.

“Wanna cuddle you,” I said, gently tugging on her again.

“Luke, you’re-”

“Don’t care. You can leave once I’m asleep, just let me hold you,” I begged, my heavy eyes looking up at her. I heard her sigh before her hands came to rest on my neck.

“Okay,” she said, pulling away from me to move towards the side of the bed she wanted to lay on. I moved back until I was resting against the pillows. I reached out to her, my arms open for her to come closer. Bryn shuffled closer, turning on her side so her back was to me. I followed her lead, wrapping my arm around her waist, and pulling her into my chest. I brought my other arm to rest underneath my head, dipping my hand around her waist under her hoodie, needing the skin to skin contact. There was something about it that was calming to me in my drunken state.

“I hope you’re here when I wake up,” I mumbled against her shoulder, pressing a light kiss there. My eyes gave up, letting sleep take over, the hopes of waking up to her still present as I drifted off.

Wowie. A drunk, talkative, needy Luke is one of my fav things. Will Bryn be there when he wakes up? Who knows? (I know but you don’t yet). As always, I hope you’re enjoying Suits. It’s been such a pleasure to be able to write this out for everyone to read. Let me know how you’re all feeling about it!

my tag hoes: @thruheavenandhighwater @sweetcherrycal @bbycal @thebookamongmen @cartiercalum @lurhemmings @a-little-international @lu-fakebetch @tommossoccer @irwinsx @cashton-queen @obsidiancosmos @emptysanity @cxddlyash @lipstickstainfading @pickleluke @calumfornicationx @calumspeachy @captivatingcal @kinglyhood @rexorangecounty @youngblood199456 @madxhttr22 @calthesensation @belle-ofthe-sea @thatsaproblemdal @irwlns @all-i-want-is2b-loved-by-you @ashotofblues

#d writes #my writing #luke hemmings #luke hemmings imagine #luke hemmings au #luke hemmings fic #lh #5sos #5sos fic #5sos au #5sos imagine #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer au #5 seconds of summer imagine #calum hood #luke 5sos #ashton irwin #michael clifford