#I better see Ben throw some hands. Use those muscles that you worked so hard for!!

[forgedroyalseal]

Why would they be jealous?

Will over hears some rangers talking about him in a less than flattering way at a gathering. Gilan takes care of it like the good big brother he is. Takes place at the gathering at the beginning of book 8

Trigger Warning: vague suggestions of rape/non-con. Nothing happens.

Jealousy is the tribute mediocrity pays to genius

Fulton J. Sheen

Will was not accustom to people being jealous of him. He was an orphan, left at the ward as an infant. Growing up he was alway the smallest, and despite the comforting words of his caretakers, he did not hit a growth spurt at 10, or 12, not even at 15. Will was denied a knights apprenticeship. Halt had chosen him as a ranger’s apprentice, something he would learn to realize is exactly what he was destined to do, but most people were wary of rangers. The simple commoners believed them to be evil sorcerers, who had dark and dangerous otherworldly abilities. Those who were better educated might not believe the folk tales surrounding rangers, but they still crossed the road if they saw a ranger approaching. Ranger’s keep to themselves, mystic was a cloak just as useful as the gray and green one they wear, and their mysterious tendencies made them a target for speculation. Rumors and hearsay surrounded them, ensuring that practically no one wants the title of “Ranger”. And those who do often found themselves either as a ranger, or being hunted by one. So it wasn’t until Will was well into his apprenticeship that he would even be noticed enough for someone to envy him, and at that point, he was too occupied with his apprenticeship to notice when young boys would stare at him as he passed, or the way young men would puff out their chests and give him a look that said, what is so special about him? I could do what he does. It wasn’t until Will had graduated that he had to deal with the ugliness of jealousy being aimed towards himself.

Will knows that it isn’t fair to eavesdrop on his fellow Rangers. It’s just that Will was so accustomed to moving silently in the shadows, that sometimes he forgot to turn it off, and he didn’t intend to overhear the conversation of the group of four rangers who were sitting around a fire. He was just passing by when he heard his name mentioned. And while Will had a lot of self control, no one has enough to pass by a conversation that seem to be about themselves.

“What do you think of Halt’s boy, Treaty?” One of the men, Ranger Donovan, asked the group.

“That boy has grown too full of himself. He thinks he’s something special. The only special thing about him is that he managed to get Halt to take pity on him.” Ranger Hawthorn barked.

The other men grumbled in agreement. Ranger Lee cleared his throat to speak, and Will hoped that he might stand up for him, or at the very least change the conversation. Will and Lee had gotten along well during this gathering. They often ate at the same table and Lee had even asked Will to watch his apprentice during an archery practice and give the boy some advice. Will’s hope drowned though when he heard what Lee had to say.

“He acts all high and mighty, consulting with Halt and Crowley as if he were on the same level they are. I’ve been a ranger longer than that boy has known how to walk, and yet he is they one they have assessing the apprentices, he is the one they send off on important assignments.” Lee spits at the ground and scoffs.

“If I didn’t know better I’d say there is a reason that Treaty is getting special treatment.” Donovan said.

“What kind of reason?” Ranger Ben asked. Ben was the youngest of the group, he was probably only a few years older than Will, and had stayed silent up until now. He wasn’t accustomed to rangers talking so negatively of each other.

Donovan ignores Ben, instead turning his attention to Lee and Hawthorn, “Halt and Treaty are very close. Closer than any of us have ever been with our apprentices. Maybe Halt found a skinny orphan that no body cared about and groomed him into-”

Will’s stomach was rolling and he put his hands over his ears. He knew that if anyone saw him he would look very childish, hunched over, trying to block about the voices by the fire, but he didn’t care. He was disgusted at Donovan’s implications and simultaneously wanted to run far away and show all of them exactly how skill he was with his bow. Before he could do either, he heard a familiar voice.

“If you would like to keep the ability to speak, you will shut up right now.”

Will looked back over to where the men were gathered around the fire. But this time there was a fifth figure standing next to them. Gilan. Will sighed a breath of relief. Then a deep blush rose on his cheeks, Gilan had apparently heard what Donovan had been suggesting.

“I don’t know what why you think you have the right to imply such repulsive things, but let me make one thing perfectly clear. Halt would never take advantage of a child in his care. And if I ever hear any of you say otherwise, I will personally make sure that you are removed from the corps.” Gilan’s voice was low and measured, it sounded as though he was holding back the flood gates.

Ben looked terrified and Gilan found it hard to believe that Ben had much to do with any of this. The ranger was quiet and polite, his biggest flaw was his need to be accepted. Which is most likely why he remained in the company of the older rangers when the conversation took a nasty turn. Lee and Hawthorn had the decency to look at least somewhat ashamed, Donovan however, look furious. He stood and stepped toward Gilan. Gilan was taller (he was taller than all of the rangers in the corps), but Donovan was thick with muscle and probably had nearly 40 pounds on Gilan. Will knew that Gilan could handle himself, but his hand still instinctively floated down to the hilt of his throwing knife. Just in case.

“Why do you care what we say about Treaty?” Donovan said.

Gilan leaned closer to Donovan ever so slightly. “He is my brother, that’s why.” Then Gilan turned and left. Will also took his leave, nothing good would come from remaining where he was.

The conversation between Donovan, Lee, and Hawthorn had infuriated Gilan. When he first left the men he wanted to go straight to Crowley. Crowley was almost as defensive of Will as Gilan was. They both saw greatness in Will that he couldn’t see in himself. And since Will was practically Halt’s son, that made Gilan and Crowley his protective big brother and uncle. He had actually made it to the front of Crowley tent before stopping himself. Gilan figured it would be best to check in with Will before he involved Crowley. If anyone had said or done anything to Will, Gilan knew that he wouldn’t say anything. He would just try to sweep it under the rug and move on. He wasn’t one to draw attention to himself or cause a stir. Gilan, on the other hand, had zero qualms with making a scene if it meant justice would be delivered. And justice was necessary. Rangers should be united, and rumors such as the ones Donovan was spewing were dangerous.

Gilan didn’t see Will until dinner that night. He had looked for him, but if the young ranger didn’t want to be found, he made sure that he wasn’t. By the time Gilan had entered the dining tent, Will was already seated at a table alone, moving his food around his plate, but never bringing his fork to his mouth. Gilan felt something in his stomach sink. Something was wrong. Will never sat alone during meals at the gathering. In fact, just yesterday Will had said to Gilan that he was almost never alone during any part of the gathering. He was always followed by young apprentices with stars in their eyes, or by those who wanted to see what kind of ranger Halt’s small, wide eyed apprentice had turned out to be. So seeing Will alone, in a dark corner of the tent was unusual and alarming. Passing by the line to get a plate of food, Gilan made his way across the room to Will.

“Will-” Gilan started as he took a seat on the other side of the table, but he was cut off before he could finish.

“I was there. I was passing by in the woods when I heard them. I should have just keep on walking. I shouldn’t have listened. But I did.” Will’s voice knocked Gilan off guard for a moment. It was so small and lonely, it made Gilan remember just how young Will really was.

“You need to know that Donovan and the others are just jealous Will. They’re words don’t mean anything.”

“Jealous? Jealous of what Gil? Of an oraphan boy that no one wanted? Or of a druggie slave would had to be rescued by the crown princess? Maybe they are jealous of the ranger who can’t stand his assignment because he hates being alone? Yeah, there is a lot to be jealous of.” Will scoffed.

Gilan sighed, he hadn’t realize that Will was this blind to what everyone else saw in him. “No Will. They are jealous of your natural abilities. They are jealous of what a genuinely good man you are. They know that you will become the best ranger the corps have ever seen.”

Will rolls his eyes but Gilan continues, “Will, men like that know that no matter how hard they work, or train, no matter how much experience they have, they will never be what you are. They will never be remarkable Will. And they don’t know how to accept that. So they try to find fault in you when there isn’t any.”

“But I’m not remarkable Gil. I’m not anything special.”

“Yes you are Will. You may not realize it today. You may never see it, but everyone else around you can. And unfortunately that makes you a target. But you cannot let them get in your head. Just keep being you Will. That is all you need to do.”

The two rangers sat in silence for a while. Gilan knew that Will had to process everything he had just said, and there wasn’t any point in trying to bring up discussing the matter with Crowley until Will was ready.

“Please don’t tell Halt about any of this.” Will said, breaking the silence.

“Will, he won’t think any less of you.”

“I know. I just don’t want this to get out to everyone. And I don’t want Halt to know what Donovan said about him.”

Gilan thought about it. He should tell Halt. Gilan knew that his former mentor would lose it if he heard about what happened, and Gilan wanted a front row seat to the confrontation that would end with Donovan, Lee, and Hawthorn bleeding on the ground, or swimming in a moat, or both. But Will had a right to want to control the matter. The implications that they made were revolting, and they would hurt Halt, even if he acted like they didn’t. And Will had a valid point about not wanting others to find out about what was said. If Halt went ballistic on the men it was only a matter of time before word got around about what had been said about Halt and Will.

“Fine, we won’t tell Halt. But we do need to tell Crowley.”

Will began to protest, but Gilan put his hand up to stop him.

“You may not be Halt’s apprentice anymore, but Crowley is our Commandant, he needs to know what is going on. We will tell him together, and we will ask him to keep it to himself. I’m not negotiating on this Will. Crowley needs to know.”

“Crowley needs to know what?”

Both rangers turn to see the man in question standing by their table. Will turned his attention back to Gilan.

Gilan nods, “Go ahead Will. Tell him. It’s just us.”

And Will tells Crowley everything.

#ranger's apprentice #rangers apprentice #ranger’s apprentice fanfiction #fanfiction friday #even tho it isn’t Friday

[nethandrake]

do i wanna know?

stevetony. mcu. rated t. 2.8k words.

for @ishipallthings

also on ao3.

*****

He hears before he sees them, their voices loud enough for Steve’s ears to pick up.

Steve reaches for his hand towel, dabbing the sweat trickling down his head and cheeks. “Uh, JARVIS? Who—”

“Miss Romanov, Mr Storm, and sir.”

Steve couldn’t help but scowl at that. Wonderful. Just what he needs right now.

And to think that he could hole up in here, away from...them.

There are many things a lot of people don't know about Steve, one of them is that he isn’t very fond of the Fantastic Four.

Okay, that might be stretching things. It’s not like he hates them. He actually admires how well they work together, which makes sense considering they’re family, and well enough with the Avengers. It helps that both teams get on well with each other, going so far as to taking vacations and hosting monthly gatherings.

Ben’s a blast to have around during Game Nights (how he wins every single time during poker, Steve will never know) and while Reed might talk circles around Steve’s head (not on purpose, of course), he can’t help but admire his intelligence, only second to Tony. He doesn’t have anything negative to say about Sue and not just because he’s afraid of losing a limb. She’s a total sweetheart and fun to gossip with.

And then, there’s Johnny Storm.

Speaking of Johnny Storm, he swaggers inside the gym like he owns the place, his smug grin ever plastered on. He has an arm around Tony’s shoulder, a detail Steve tries hard to ignore. Thankfully for his sanity, Natasha trails in after them.

“Hey, Cap,” she says as the trio comes to a stop in front of Steve. “Up for a spar?”

“Uh, sure.” Steve’s eyes trail over to the person next to him, almost freezing at the sight of Tony clad in a black tank top. And judging by the light sheen on his tanned skin and the way the cloth clings to his lithe frame, he must’ve been down in the workshop before this.

God, those muscles and that stupid tank top are going to be the death of Steve.

“Hey,” he manages, inwardly cringing at how breathless he sounds.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Natasha rolls her eyes.

Tony flashes a toothy grin that might or might not make Steve feel lighter. “Hey yourself.”

Steve couldn’t help but break into a smile of his own.

“And just what am I?” Johnny demands, placing his hands on his hips. “Chopped liver?”

Just like that, the moment’s ruined. Steve fights off the urge to roll his eyes.

He'll never figure out how the Fantastic Four could stand him.

Tony chuckles, clapping Johnny on the shoulder. “He probably thought he was looking at the mirror.”

Steve feels himself scowl at that.

Right. How could he forget that one little detail? For some reason, people seem to think that Johnny's the spitting image of Steve, from the blond hair to the startling blue eyes to the chiseled jaw.

Steve might've found the comparison amusing, if Johnny isn’t such a hot-headed brash asshole, a self-centered flirt who can’t, for the life of him, take anything seriously. In fact, Steve might've found Johnny tolerable or god forbid—

“Hello? Earth to Spangles?”

Steve blinks, finally noticing the hand Johnny’s been waving in front of him. “Sorry, I was just...just wondering why the both of you are here.”

He instantly regrets the accusatory tone when Tony flinches. If he hadn’t been for his four-year friendship with Tony, Steve's pretty sure he wouldn’t have noticed. Tony's tells are subtle like that.

Johnny waves his hand around in dismissal. “Oh, you know. Thought I’d get Tony to take a break. Figured he needs some fresh air, maybe some eye-candy to ogle.”

Tony snorts, crossing his arms. “Again with that shit. Yeah, yeah. You got me out of the workshop. It isn't something to gloat about.”

“Hey, I have the right to gloat about it. You're as bad as Reed when he gets into the zone.” Johnny smirks. “Even Sue could hardly tear him away from work.”

“I get Tony out of there all the time,” Steve blurts out.

“You mean, you have to haul his ass over your shoulder,” Natasha pipes up.

Steve shifts his glower down at her. She meets him with a cool gaze, her lips curled in a half-smile.

Johnny’s lips shift into his trademark Cheshire grin, waggling his eyebrows. “Now, that’s an image I’d love to see.”

“I think I have a pic or two—”

“Nat!”

Natasha rolls her eyes. “Alright, alright. Party pooper.” She pokes his shoulder before sauntering away. “C'mon, you big lug.”

Steve trails after her, throwing a backward glance at Tony and Johnny as he goes. They’ve taken residence on a nearby bench, their heads bent together as they murmur to one another. Judging by the blush on Tony’s cheeks and the self-satisfied grin on Johnny’s face, it’s saved to say that they’re flirting.

Again.

From the moment they’ve met, Johnny seems to have taken a shine to Tony, following him around like a lost puppy and flirting with him like there’s no tomorrow. It's bizarre. It's not like Tony's friendship with Reed, which is built on science and research. They barely have anything in common, besides their reputations as ‘playboys’.

Is Johnny actually interested in Tony? Why would Johnny even consider dating Tony? For one, Tony’s way too old for him. Johnny’s in his early, mid-twenties? Sure, Steve’s younger than Tony too but he’s closer in age (and no, his true age doesn’t count).

Plus, Steve’s a master tactician. He has superstrength, superhearing, able to heal quickly. What can Johnny do besides bursting into flames? If Tony wants skywriting written in fire, Tony could just build a machine that could—

A nudge to his head snaps Steve out of his thoughts. He whips behind him, meeting Natasha’s knowing smirk.

Which could only mean one thing.

“My eyes are up here, Cap.”

Steve groans. “Nat—”

“I’m just getting your attention,” she replies, the perfect picture of innocence. “Nothing else.”

The sparring session starts out fine. As usual, Natasha proves to be the perfect sparring partner, easily keeping up with Steve’s stamina and is agile enough to meet his jabs with ease.

But then he hears a familiar giggle behind him and then he loses focus.

Steve blinks, meeting Natasha’s cool gaze as the pain in his side ebbs away. She has an eyebrow raised knowingly.

“Wanna take five?”

“I’m fine,” Steve replies gruffly, raising his fists.

“I could get them to leave—”

“No!”

Natasha’s other eyebrow shoots upwards.

Heat begins creeping up Steve’s neck. “I mean, I—”

“Everything all right there?” Tony calls out from the bench, looking and sounding worried. Next to him, Johnny’s grinning, looking like a cat who just ate a canary.

Steve really, really wants to wipe that smirk off his face.

“I’m good!” he replies. “I mean, we’re good.”

Tony’s frown deepens but thankfully doesn’t seem to pursue the subject.

When Steve and Natasha resume their spar, Steve makes sure to jab harder and dodge faster, to try to win. He knows he’s getting reckless. Sloppy.

But he needs this, needs this distraction. Needs to forget.

And then pain explodes over his face.

Steve doesn’t even register what’s happened until he feels callused but warm hands cupping his face and a voice frantically yelling in his ear.

“—eve! C’mon, buddy. Are you okay? Wh—”

And that’s when he realizes he’s sprawled on the mat, Tony holding his face in his hands.

For a brief moment, he lets himself lean into the touch, bask in Tony’s concern before he meets a pair of azure blue eyes behind Tony.

Immediately, Steve yanks away from Tony’s touch, jumping to his feet.

“I’m fine. It’s nothing.”

“It’s definitely not nothing,” Tony retorts, reaching forward again. “Your face is bruising—”

“It’ll heal.”

“Still. At least let us—”

“I said, I’m fine!”

Tony flinches. Johnny’s eyebrows shoot up. Natasha remains impassive.

An invisible lump forms in Steve’s throat. Oh, he definitely fucked up.

Truly, truly fucked up.

“I—I have to go.”

He’s out of the room before anyone could stop him, making a beeline for the elevators because fuck, he fucked up so bad.

Steve needs to get away. Away from Tony and Natasha and Johnny freaking—

“Shit,” he mutters to himself, jabbing at the elevator buttons, whiling, hoping that it’ll come. It better come because goddamn it—

“Steve!”

He doesn’t bother looking over his shoulder, dashing over to the emergency stairs instead.

Thankfully, Tony doesn’t follow.

*****

read the rest on ao3.

#stevetony #stony #steve x tony #steve rogers #tony stark #*fic

[thewatermelloncat]

The Dead Follow

Summary: Written based on this prompt from Anonymous:

Klaus is at a family meeting called by Luther and he is sober but nobody knows other than Ben. So of course, the dead people occasionally say things to him so he starts to get all nervous while Ben keeps telling him to say something. The other siblings just make rude remarks saying that he’s probably high until he has a panic attack and they realize that he’s not.

Warnings: Panic attack and PROMINENT TOPIC OF ADDICTION – if either of these make you uncomfortable and/or could be triggering, please give this fic a miss.

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

He’d relapsed last week. One ill-advised drink had turned into more, he’d mixed some things he wasn’t proud of, and Diego had found him lying unconscious on a street corner.

No one had said much about it but Klaus knew they were all disappointed in him. He was disappointed in himself. They’d mostly been concerned he thinks. At least one of them had always stayed by his side until he gained the ability to function again.

Afterward, he’d expected a lecture but he was never given one. It seemed that his siblings had decided that all the words they could say would sound obvious so they were left unspoken. Some part of him wished they’d lectured him anyway because by them not saying anything it seemed like they didn’t trust him to listen.

Then again, he didn’t know if he would have.

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

He wakes up shaky. Every limb is fuzzy and every step feels like he is pulling a ton of bricks behind him. His head is splitting in two but he knows that this is the price he has to pay as the last of the drugs leave his system.

Pulling on his long black coat more for comfort than warmth, he makes his way down to the lounge for the family meeting Luther had notified them all of days ago.

As he travels through the academy silhouettes of people brush past the outskirts of his vision, seeming to be minding their own business. Some walk alongside him until they find where they are going and break off from his path, traveling down another hallway. Others wonder aimlessly, walking back and forth through walls regardless of whether the door to the room is open.

He should have expected the ghosts to be back but he wishes they had stayed away for longer. The prospect of seeing them everywhere he turns has him itching to get his hands on the liquor bottles he eyes as he walks into the living room.

As to be expected he is the last one there and sits down on an empty couch, picking up a few odd stares from his siblings at him not saying a word. Though their conversation continues quickly and their eyes draw away from him.

“Klaus, it’s going to be okay” Ben says from the other end of the couch, having noticed Klaus’ eyes darting around.

Klaus barely spares him a glance before his eyes shift elsewhere in the room. There are more ghosts than he’d expected.

“It’s always worse when you’re getting sober” Ben reminds him calmly.

Klaus knows that he’s right. Normally he can tune most of the ghosts out but when he’s only on the brink of sobriety his powers are hard to harness and he can’t block them out. That’s what makes staying sober so hard. Sometimes he can’t make it through the difficult period without needing a fix. It’s a hard cycle, a sometimes endless –

“Klaus” Luther’s voice pulls him out of his circling thoughts. “Are you even listening?”

“Sorry, what?” he blinks slowly and shakes his head, unfolding his legs that had at some point tucked themselves into his chest.

“Nah, he wasn’t listening” Diego seems to chuckle a little.

“What was the question?” Klaus knows to ask on instinct.

“There wasn’t a question” Allison sighs in irritation. “Luther was just saying that we should go through and get rid of some of dad’s old things. Make the place more our own.”

“Sure, whatever” Klaus mumbles already fading out of the conversation. Staring off as more ghosts congregate around the room.

“That’s it?” Vanya’s voice sounds distant. “No ‘we should have a sacrificial burning ceremony?’ No requests to burn marshmallows over the bonfire?”

All living voices fade away as Klaus begins to hear the ghosts mumbling to each other as they surround his littlest brother. He can’t make out what they are saying but their murmuring tones don’t sound happy as they shuffle around Five too closely for comfort. Like they are trying swallow him with their masses, only he remains blissfully unaware because he can’t see them.

“Probably high again” Klaus’ ears prick up again at Luther’s voice, his eyes flicking over to him.

“Klaus, we know you slipped up last week but I thought you were better than this” Allison joins in.

“You promised you’d come to us” – Klaus tunes the rest of Vanya’s words out. He never remembered promising anyone anything, unless if he did it without meaning it.

Everything is getting too loud. Overlapping voices of the living and the dead. His sibling moving closer to him and the ghosts filling the spaces left behind by them.

As his eyes focus more on them, he can see the red spots of bullet wounds in their foreheads or their chests, sometimes both. They were all clean kills – merciful almost. Though none of their quick passing seems to dull their anger at their killer.

Gradually Klaus can feel his breaths getting deeper, more erratic. He’s losing control. His hands feel weak as they grapple onto anything that he can hold to ground him. The sting of his finger nails digging into his ankles as he pulls his legs close to his chest works only for a moment before he gets accustomed to the pain.

“Klaus, you have to tell them what’s wrong. They can help you” Ben advises looking at his brother being swallowed by panic.

But Klaus can’t bring himself to speak.

“I don’t think he’s high” Diego’s voice stands out to him but Allison’s snap of disagreement gets lost in the flood of voices.

He watches as his siblings’ eyes all travel to Five who straightens up like he was just asked a question.

“No, I’m with Diego on this one” his voice sounds surprisingly clear given the noise in the room. “Look at his eyes, they’re not bloodshot.”

“But he’s panicky” Luther states with his tone unsympathetic, merely factual.

While Five continues an unheard explanation, Diego picks up a cushion from a chair near by and tosses it at Klaus. Though he didn’t see it coming he catches it quickly, pulling it into his chest and curling his body around it.

“His reactions are fine” Diego’s observation works its way to disproving the high theory.

The remaining angry and disappointed expressions are wiped away. Leaving looks of confusions and concern.

“What is it, Klaus?” Luther’s voice though still commanding sounds gentle.

He only chews at his lip, too frozen to speak.

“Klaus, tell them” Ben prompts.

“Everything is so fucking loud!” Klaus suddenly bursts out, voice shaking. The words of overlapping conversations becoming too much to bear.

“Klaus, we’re not yelling at you?” Allison says calmly.

“Is it a migraine?” Vanya guesses. Already talk erupts between the group of siblings, delegations to get mum, dim the lights, find pain relief.

“No… no” Klaus can only deny weakly and shake his head. They have it all wrong.

It’s a fair few seconds before his words register and the group stops in their tracks.

“Then can you tell us what’s wrong?” Allison asks taking a step toward him. “If you didn’t take anything, what is it?”

Klaus’ chest convulses, his voice readying him to speak while his mind still argues whether to explain or continue to spiral into panic.

“It’s your fault I’m like this” Klaus finally chokes out, turning to Five.

“Me?” Five draws his head back in confusion.

“They follow you everywhere!” Klaus tells him, close to hysterics.

“Who follows me?” Five asks lowering his voice and talking slow, trying to calm him.

“All the people you’ve killed.”

Around him the room seems to sombre as if the sun faded behind the clouds. The room darkening around them.

“Klaus, I” – Five starts, taking a step toward him.

“Stay away from me” Klaus interrupts him, throwing both hands out and shrinking further backward into the couch. “Stay the fuck away!”

“Klaus, I did what I had to. The deaths of those people are on my hands not yours. It wasn’t” – Five begins again, but Klaus doesn’t relax a muscle.

“Five, just go” Allison says calmly, her hands down low in a placating manner.

Five looks conflicted as his eyes flick between Allison and Klaus. His instinct is to go to him but he has to fight against it because that’s not what his brother wants. Allison is right, Klaus needs Five out of the room.

So, after a distressed breath and a shuffle on his feet, Five walks briskly out of the lounge. Once through the doorway he turns back to look at his brother again, chewing at his lip with worry etched on his face, before he turns back and takes off running.

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

After Five’s footsteps fade the room stays still for a long time. For Klaus the murmur of ghosts had dissipated as they followed his brother away. Now with the room occupied only by the living, his heartbeat slows in his ears leaving the room in an eerie silence.

He looks up hearing his siblings shuffling on their feet and their hands twisting in the fabric of their clothing, they are all looking away from him. Allison seems to sense Klaus looking at her and turns back to him.

“What can we do?”

“Nothing” Klaus tells her honestly.

“Surely there’s something” she presses.

“Well, it’s not like we can kick Five out” Diego smirks humorously with no malice.

“C-can someone go check on him?” Klaus asks. Having his brother alone after all he said doesn’t sit right with him.

“I’ll go” Diego volunteers, his smirk dropping as he jogs out of the room.

“Klaus, there has to be something” Allison repeats in disbelief. Not accepting that there is nothing that can help him.

“There’s nothing you can do” Klaus assures her. “It’s my fault anyway, I shouldn’t have relapsed. It’s always worse after that.”

“I shouldn’t have accused you of being high again” –

“We” Allison interjects between Luther’s apology.

“We should have asked if you’d taken anything before jumping to conclusions.”

“Taken anything…” Vanya suddenly repeats to herself.

At her quiet voice everyone looks over to her staring at the floor in consideration, her hands clasped in front of her as she thinks.

“I think I have an idea” she says looking back up and speaking clearer. “The pills that dad gave me dulled my powers, maybe they can do the same for yours.”

“Vanya, we still need his powers. Just like we need yours” Allison cuts in.

“I know, but just for days like this when they get too much.”

“They’re pills” Luther points out bluntly.

“I never got addicted to them.”

“I’m sorry Vanya, but you don’t have a history with addiction” Klaus reminds her.

“You’re right, I don’t” she agrees. “But we can give mum some to analyse. She’ll be able to tell us whether it will be safe or not.”

It still feels wrong and Klaus looks over to Ben nervously.

Even before he speaks Klaus can already read the look of consideration on his face. “Mum will be able to tell if it’s safe. No one will make you take anything you don’t want to.”

Externally Klaus relaxes. He can’t deny that he has been waiting for a way out of his powers for a long time, away from the drugs and the alcohol. Though internally nerves still course through his veins. Whether because he’s afraid of a new addiction or that he’s afraid it won’t work, he isn’t sure.

“Do you really think it will work?” Klaus looks up at Vanya.

She can see desperation in his eyes and her lips purse into an encouraging smile. “We’ll see” she says gently before repeating, “we’ll see.”

#tua #umbrella academy #umbrella academy fanfiction #the seancé #klaus hargreeves #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #allison hargreeves #five hargreeves #ben hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #whump

[finelinesolo]

Rules are Rules - a Ben Solo One Shot (AU)

Rating: EXPLICIT (smut)

Summary: You work at the busiest bar in the city, and one night Ben Solo comes in. Small talk, small talk — you two end up in the bathroom.

Notes: thank you for 600 on twitter!! xo’s - Lizzie

Maybe it was the freezing New York City air or maybe the lack of caffeine in your system was finally getting to you, but goosebumps danced across your arms frantically – sending a chilling shiver down your spine. There was nothing you hated more than working the closing shift, especially on Fridays. Being a bartender was fun at times and the money was pretty good, but having to be the one to kick the drunks out after last call and listen to them bitch and groan about their wives hating them or their lives falling apart was a chore no one wanted to do.

As hard as you begged, no one seemed to want to cover your shift. You were halfway tempted to just call in sick, electing not to out of fear of your boss raising hell to fire you.

A groan slipped from your lips when you heard the banging speakers and screaming people pour out of the door, their legs barely keeping them afloat as they stumbled down the street. Did you bring your Advil today? Better yet, would the Advil be enough to get you through this? You knew the answer was no, but ignorance is bliss – and that would be the only thing to save you now.

Popping the medicine into your mouth, you step through the door – already counting the seconds until you could clock off.

You knew wiping down counters repeatedly was only fun for so long, but anything was better than making strawberry martinis and cosmos for the bridal party that came in tonight. The minute they entered, you tossed the main bar to your co-worker, electing to take over bottle service and the occasional table wipe down. The tasks irritated you to no end, but every time one of the girls released a shriek pitched high enough to break glass, you hugged the rag in your hand a little tighter.

Before you could start on another table, you felt the seat next to you pull out - and man with a mop of black hair and an electric smile plopping down. His eyes lingered on yours - the hazel color swallowing you whole. He was cute, you hated to admit. It was easier for you to pretend that everyone who came into this place was a slob, however you had never wanted to be wrong more in your life.

“Bottle girl tonight, I see.” He said, raising a hand at the waitress to put an order in. His eyes drifted down to your legs, sitting there for a second before flashing back to meet your gaze. “Nice legs, by the way. You’re always behind the bar, I’ve never seen them before.” He cocked a lazy smile at your co-worker, lazily ordering a whiskey neat. She glanced up at you before scurrying off, swaying her hips in the process. To impress this guy, you guessed. A small giggle fell from your lips, causing his eyes to fall back on you. You tried to suppress your laughter, but it came anyways.

“Something funny?” He asked, crossing his arms across his chest. The position drew attention to the muscles laced through his arms, your throat closing momentarily at the sight. “No, not at all. You enjoyed the show, I assume?” You ask, lifting your head to gesture at your co-worker. He rolled his eyes, leaning forward onto the table. “Every time I’m in here she does the same thing - maybe I should keep track, throw her a party when she hits 100.” Oh, so he had jokes. You rack your brain to remember who he was, drawing a blank after a few moments. “You’re a regular, I assume?” You ask, dropping your rag on his table to at least try to make it look like you are working so your boss didn't chew you out. He nodded; eyes steady on the bar to track his drink. “You don’t remember me? Ouch, that stings. I’ll remember that the next time I tip.” You knew he was kidding, his tone of voice said that much. He squinted his eyes at you, studying your expression. There wasn’t much to see, clearly - his gaze returning to the line of drinks forming on the counter.

“I’m Ben, Ben Solo. And you?” His voice was loud, the sound carrying through the booming music that busted your ear drums on the daily. “I’m Y/N - it’s nice to meet you, Ben.” It was a cute name, for a cute guy. You wondered if there was something deeper here - like maybe he was a serial killer and came here looking for girls to murder. You’d seen some creepy guys come through here, but he didn’t seem like one. Creepy guys don’t dress this well – his torso was framed tightly by a black dress top, his bottom half matched with plain jeans. Black boots sealed the look, and you couldn’t help but wonder what was hiding underneath all those buttons.

“So, Ben, what do you do?” You ask, throwing the rag over your shoulder so you could lean closer. He noticed, resting his chin on his palm to meet your distance. “I’m a pilot, but I live here. I have the next couple days off.” A pilot. This man was a rich, successful, pilot – so what was he doing in this part of town, getting drinks from the busiest dive bar in the city? “And what about you, bottle girl? Are you a full-time bartender or do you live a double life?” He smiled softly at you, the curve of his lips forcing you to return the grin. “I’m that predictable, huh? Yeah, Speech Pathology student by day, slave to the drink by night.”  He raised his eyebrow, the emotion behind it was unreadable. “Speech Pathology, huh? So, you’re an expert with mouth movement, huh?” His tone shifted towards the end, the weight of it growing stronger - like it was sitting on your chest. Yes, your major included those techniques - something your friends loved to tease you about. No one you’d slept with really cared, yet here was this man already using it to his favor. “Somewhat, yes. Why? Are you looking for a lesson?” A bold statement, you knew. Normally you’d never engage a customer, but in your eyes – this man didn’t count. His face shifted to glance back at the bar, his drink still not there. You hoped they forgot to make it - that maybe you’d be able to steal him before he got it. Before you could ask again, you felt his hand land on your thigh - his fingers drawing soft circles as they traveled up towards your hip. “How much time do you have?” He asked, the heat radiating from him warming your skin.

“As much as you're willing to give me.” The distance between you two grew smaller and smaller until you were practically sitting in his lap, your leg draped softly over his bottom half. Your face loomed over his, standing up having given you the high ground. The bar grew more crowded, the hoard of dancers covering you two from the judging glances of your co-workers – something you’d remember to thank God for later. He raised his jaw, gesturing towards the one family bathroom the building had. There wasn’t a line for it, something that rarely happens. Nodding in agreement, he snatches your hand to drag you forward. His legs carried him faster than you could keep up with, and it wasn’t until now that you realized how tall he was. No wonder he could make a b-line so quick, the man was easily 6’3.

Once inside the room, Ben wrapped his arms around your waist – turning you to press your back against the door as it shut. His lips softly brushed against yours’s, the hum of your chests reverberating against each other. He had big hands, another thing you didn’t notice until now. One sprawled against your hip, the other grasped the back of your neck tightly. The air was thick with the smell of spilt liquor and sweat from the dance floor - a trait you normally detested, but with Ben this close, you could faintly smell his cologne - a mix of sandalwood and mint fluttered in your nose. You wanted nothing more than for him to kiss you, but he wasn’t playing that game this evening. He wasn’t vanilla, clearly – your heart pounded at the thought of what he was capable of.

“Sweetheart,” his voice was sweet like candy, but was still coated with that same dark tone you enjoyed so much before. His breath was hot on your skin, the bottom of his lip tucked between his top teeth for just a second as he contemplated his next sentence. “How much are you willing to do?” The question was dumb, but you appreciated it, nonetheless. “In what way, Ben?” You asked, your lashes fluttering softly to not squirm away from his touch. It was driving you crazy, and he knew it too – his hands digging a little deeper into your skin. “I want all of you, every inch. But are you going to be good and let me take my time with you or can you not handle it?” His words dripped with intensity, and you fought the urge to audibly gasp. You were on the clock, but the idea of going back to work right now sounded like an unusual form of torture. You nod, slowly – watching that same grin you saw earlier form on his mouth. He loved this, clearly. And you did too, shockingly enough.  Normally you’d never hook up with someone in a bathroom, but it was just your luck that it had been deep cleaned before rush tonight.

“Any rules?” You asked, your arms wrapping around his neck. The gesture was so normal to you, yet he managed to reject it so fast – his hands grabbing yours to pin them above your head.

“Yes, a few.”

Whether it was shock or excitement that was heating your face, you didn’t care. The force behind his actions was electrifying, every move he made left you wondering what would come next. His eyes caught yours, silently asking to continue. You nod, maintaining eye contact as you twitched beneath him.

“You don’t do anything without asking. You even try to cum before I let you and I’ll pull away.” His voice got quiet as he nudged your head to get at your neck, placing soft kisses along your jaw. The pace was agonizing, his tongue dragging a small line across your skin. You groaned under your breath, the feeling causing your knees to wobble.

“You’re not allowed to touch me.” The rule was mind-boggling, and you weren’t sure how you’d be able to follow it. He was built like a marble statue, and the idea of not being able to drag your fingers across his figure seemed impossible.

“And what if I break it?” You ask, your voice faltering as he sucked on the skin below your earlobe. The soft laugh that escaped his lips sounded borderline threatening, his grip on your wrists only tightening. “Do you want me to leave you here to finish yourself?” No. No you did not.

“Rules are rules, sweetheart.” His voice carried through your ears like a melody.

Nodding, you mentally sign off on his rules. It’s not like what he was asking for was totally insane, you had seen much worse watching the people who came into this bar. His grip on your wrists changed, transferring both into one hand while he brought the other to grasp your hip. Your mouth released a soft moan at his touch, everything he did elicited a reaction from deep within you. It wasn’t long before you felt his lips on yours, the soft pillow-like texture clouding your thoughts. His kiss was unlike anything you’d felt before – like they were custom fit for yours’s, or that they had molded so quickly to fit your every movement. He turned his head to the side to angle deeper, swiping his tongue softly against your bottom lip to earn entry – and who were you to deny him that?

You wanted nothing more than to grab a fistful of his hair and pull it for strength, but that was clearly not an option now. He had open reign of your body, his free hand roaming up under your shirt to unclasp your bra.

With one hand? A talent.

Before you could realize it, your top half was exposed – he analyzed your every inch as if he was afraid, he’d miss a part. No one had ever taken in all of you like this, the nerves of being open to him causing you to shiver. He felt it, you assumed – releasing your wrists.

“Don’t move them - are we clear?” You nod, keeping your arms pressed against the door. His big hands slid up your side while he kissed down your collarbone and over the top of your chest. Hot air pounded against your forehead from the lack of AC that ever pumped into this room. You’d never had a fond memory here, but you were sure this would quickly top the list.

His lips clasped around your nipple fervently, as if he were in a rush – and maybe he was, you were at work and the risk of someone drunkenly stumbling through the door to puke was high. Your mind was racing, not able to place thoughts to actions as he dragged his tongue along your skin. The lights flickered softly, growing dimmer every passing second. It was like the further he got along your body, the darker it got. Ben didn’t seem to notice, focused on the task at hand. He stepped back momentarily, unbuttoning his shirt as fast as he could.  

“You just want me to stand here like this, huh?” You asked, your wrists resting against the cold metal of the door. A kink was a kink, you guessed – but this was the first you’d met someone who didn’t want you to touch them. You’d read about it time to time, and seen it in that 50 shades movie - but this was a real person with real rules, and you couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if you broke them.

A dash of courage races through your head, your hands working for you. Ben was so lost in unbuttoning his shirt, he didn’t notice you lurch forward to place your hands on his chest. His eyes flew open, shock splashed across his face. He didn’t stop you, his eyes intently staring at your every movement. As predicted, his body was stunning. The build of his torso was like something out of a dream, soft skin draped over toned muscle. His breath was shallow as your hand fell lower – a reaction that only encouraged you to go further. Oddly enough, he still wasn’t stopping you - he let you continue your exploration, watching your fingers fumble with the button of his pants. It popped open quietly, causing the hemline to drop slightly past his hip, exposing more skin. You raise your eyes to meet his gaze, hoping he’d let you continue.

The rules. You were doing a shit job at following them, and he was either playing a trick on you to see if you’d get back in line, or he didn’t care – and Ben didn’t seem like the kind of guy to forgive so easily.

Steadily, you raise your hands in defeat – stepping back against the door as he asked to stay before. Pride washed across his face, his frame towering over you as he pressed up against you again.

“Good girl.”

He returned his mouth to yours, an exhale of relief leaving lips in the process. Your stomach did 180 flips every time he touched you, and you couldn’t help but want to run your fingers through his hair and pull. This was the point, clearly – he knew that you not being able to touch him would drive you crazy, and he was right.

Ben slapped your legs softly, gesturing for you to jump into his arms. Wrapping your legs around his hips, you had assumed that meant the no touch rule was over – clearly not, because before you could finally touch his hair, he used one hand to catch them as he strode across the room to place you on the sink. You groan in frustration – desperate to feel his hot skin against your palm. He laughed softly under his breath, hiking your skirt up to let it pool at your hips. Ben stood in between your legs, his size keeping them spread far apart. The cold porcelain pressed into your thighs, goosebumps appearing in its place. The warmth from the man in front of you was enough to suppress them, his arms returning to their place around your hips. He softly kissed down your face, stopping at your lips.

“Do you want my mouth?”

Blunt, yes. You’ve noticed that he was straight to the point, a trait you’d normally detest. But it was hot on him. Everything was.

“Yes, yes please.”

Ben smirked, getting down on his knees to place a hand on your stomach – pressing you against the mirror. The glass chilled you to your spine, a small gasp escaping your lips from the contact. He either didn’t notice or didn’t care, placing soft kisses along your inner thigh to tease you.

“Ben, please.” You begged, swallowing your pride out of desperation to feel him. Nerves wracked your chest and you weren’t sure why. You’d hooked up with people before, even in public once or twice - but this was the first time you’d felt immobile in front of a man, as if your body only acted because he told it too. He noticed your trance, hooking a finger on your underwear to move it to the side. He let out a puff of cold air, the contact causing your legs to fly up. He didn’t care, leaning back a bit to prop your knees on his shoulders for a better angle.

It was a quick second before you felt his mouth on you, the pressure that was building up in your stomach immediately releasing at the feeling. Your hands found purchase on the side of the sink, the sudden thought of his rules reminding you to not grab at his hair. He licked in zig-zag formation, his tongue pressing in harder after landing on your clit. The air was sucked from your lungs, a moan forcing its way out. Ben wrapped his arms around your hips in return, holding you in place. His head rotated in small circles, mouthing at your center at a quicker pace. Every couple seconds he’d groan against you, the sound vibrating your clit in ways that made your head spin.

“You like that, huh?” He asked, pulling away shortly to press your buttons. All you could do was nod - his tongue pushing through your folds again taking away your ability to speak. He seemed to want words, his frame teetering backwards to blow cold air on your entrance. The feeling was electric, and you never wanted it to end. Shrieking, your knuckles went white from gripping the sink.

“Yes, god yes. Please don’t stop.” The words came out as more of a stutter.

“Please what? Tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

He knew. He wasn’t dumb. Why did he need vocals?

“Please, I need you to make me cum. Ben-” Your breath was hot as is exhaled, the words stumbling out in an incoherent mess. “I want your fingers, and your mouth – please.”

He raised an eyebrow, pleased with his effect on you. “Fingers too, huh? Greedy little thing.” Not that he cared, of course. Ben didn’t waste a second, raising his middle finger to your entrance and pushing in. The feeling was euphoric, his pace quickening to match the rise and fall of your chest. He murmured against your center, sucking your clit while his fingers curled deep inside of you. It was almost too much, and you knew you’d only last so long.

“Oh, god yes - daddy.”

Your eyes flew open, one of your hands coming up to slam over your mouth. Why? Why now?

“What did you just call me?” He asked, his grip on your hip tightening slightly.

“Nothing. I called you nothing.” You felt like an idiot, and you were an idiot. You’d always wanted to try calling someone that, but no one ever made you feel like they’d be okay with it. That, or they were boring to the point that you couldn’t get yourself to say it.  And here you were, naked on top of a sink – waiting for the one man you found that deserved the title, to decide if it was okay.

“Say it. What did you call me?” He said again, this time darker in tone.

“Daddy.” It came out weak, sheepish even. You swallowed your spit hoping it would make your speech clear up.

He smirked, the expression causing a wave of relief to wash over you. Returning to his place in between your legs, his lips kissed down your pussy – lapping softly at the skin just above your entrance. Fingers and all, this man knew what he was doing. Hunger for him raged on in your chest, and you weren’t sure how much longer you’d last like this.

“Oh, sweetheart – you taste so good. You like it when daddy does this, huh?” He said, his words pulsating against you. “Yes, yes.” You sigh, your legs starting to shake. The closer you got to finishing, the harder it was to focus. Your vision was blurring with every passing second.

“Ben -” you start, the pressure building in your stomach becoming unbearable. “Can I please cum? Please?” It came out as a plea, like your life depended on it. He looked up at you from his spot, the eye contact threatening to send you over the edge.

“Hm, not yet. Count to 10 and I’ll let you.” He says, staying close to you. You nod – confused with how 10 seconds would affect anything.

“1…”

He swirled his tongue around your clit, pushing his fingers in completely.

“2 … 3 …. 4 …”

Ben moaned against you, shaking his head from left to right to create friction.

“5 … 6 … 7 ... “

“I don’t know if I can do this Ben-” You gasp, sweat dripping from your brow as you try to hold your orgasm in. He dug his nails into your skin, signaling to continue.

“8… 9 … 10 …”

He sucked harshly, releasing your clit but continuing to push in and out of you at full force. “Cum, sweetheart. Cum for daddy.”

You felt your body wrack with shakes as you released, the power behind it causing your back to fly off the mirror – sitting straight up once again. You wanted to catch your breath, but Ben had better ideas. He stood to his feet, pulling you against his chest.

“I’m on the pill -” you whisper, his head resting on your shoulder. He nodded, leaning down to shuffle out of his pants. Pulling his boxers down, his cock was released from its hold. Your eyes flew open wide – the size of it taking away your ability to speak. This could hurt, and you almost wanted it to hurt.

He hooked one of his arms under your leg, lifting it slightly. You impulsively reached forward, grabbing his shoulders for support. This was breaking the rules, you knew that. Ben’s eyes traced your frame, nodding in approval at your position.

“You’ve been good, sweetheart – you can keep your hands there.”

You couldn’t help but feel relief, tightening your grip around his neck – your fingers finally trailing into his hair. It was just as soft as you hoped, the locks tangling around your grip. Ben groaned at the close contact, letting out a harsh breath before thrusting himself all the way inside you, filling you up. Your grip faltered, his arms catching you before you fell back against the mirror again. Pulling him closer after, your neck gave out – finding a resting spot on his shoulder. He closed his eyes, adjusting to the feeling of you around him.

“You’re so tight - damn, sweetheart.” You were, but mainly because of him - the man was stretching you as far as you could take. “You like how I fill you up, huh? Tell me how much you like it.”

Words were not coming out, an example of his effect on you. All you could manage were a few murmured words, flying out of your mouth in a haste.

“Yes - Yes, I love it, ugh.” That’s as good as it was going to get for you, his mouth curving into a smirk watching you come undone at his will. The sound of desperation in your voice only encouraged him further, picking up his pace. He holds you against him as he plunges his cock as deep as it would go, grunting and moaning obscenities along the way. Every move he made went straight to your core, the impact relentless. You wanted to scream or bang your arms against the wall – everything he did felt so damn good, and you didn’t know how else to express it. Your eyes begin to water, one hand coming in between you to rub vicious circles on your clit while the other finds purchase gently wrapped around your throat. You were fairly sure he was out to kill you, and the idea of going back to work after this was near impossible. He groans, elbowing your left leg, silently asking you to lift it just as he had it before. You oblige, the angle only sending him deeper. You make a mental note to thank your DJ for blasting the music so loud it was virtually impossible to hear anything, imagining a way to explain this to your coworkers if they caught you. His brain was on a different wavelength clearly, pounding into you relentlessly and enjoying every second.

“Don’t forget to tell me when you’re close.” He grunts, his fingers still rotating your clit deliciously. And you were, but you didn’t want this to end. How much longer could you drag this out for?

Your orgasm had other things in mind, creeping up on you quickly. You shriek, slapping his shoulder and shaking your head. “Ben, I’m so close, please-” He shook his head, slamming into you again but halting his movement, the length pressed against you causing your breath to catch in your throat.

“Cum now sweetheart, now.”

You scream into his shoulder, softly biting the skin to relieve the tension. His breath hitched quickly after yours, finishing inside of you while you continued shaking underneath his body. He slowly thrusts in and out of you to help you ride out your climax before slowing to a stop, his head leaning against yours. Your ragged breaths mixed with his, the air between you thin. The outline of the skin made your legs sore, a soft whimper of pain pushing past your lips. Ben assumed so, wrapping your legs around his hips tighter so he could lift you up, carrying you over to the small counter placed in the counter. The surface was less harsh, the surge of pain you felt before dissipating. He kissed your forehead, reaching to his left to grab some paper towels.

“Close your eyes, sweetheart.” Following his instructions, you feel him softly dab at your hairline - cleaning up the sweat forming. He did the same further down your body, wiping along your collarbone and your jaw. It was a sweet gesture compared to the way he was wrecking you earlier.

He finished, throwing the paper away and returning with your clothes. You dressed in silence, stealing a glance at him through the corner of your eye every couple seconds. Once everything was fastened, you stood on opposite sides of the bathroom, eyes glued to each other. His feet carried him in stride, his hands on either side of your face while he kissed you softly. You melted into his touch, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“What time do you get off tonight?” He asked, staring at your lips – waiting for an answer.

“I close, so around 2.” He flipped his wrist, glancing at his watch for time. It must have been around midnight at this point.

“I’ll wait for you, then you’re coming home with me.” He said with that same smirk crossing his face in the way you liked so much. That could be arranged, but you weren’t going to let him off that easily.

“Oh, really? And why is that?” You whisper against his jaw, placing soft kisses up until you reached just under his ear lobe, swirling your tongue there softly. He shuddered against you, pulling you away with his eyes squinted.

“Because I said so, and rules are rules.”

#ben solo #adam driver #ben solo smut #ben solo au #adam driver smut

[pennylanefics]

lazy mornings

a/n: this came to be bc of @yeahigothandcuffs as usual 😂 she came up with the ben one, so credit goes to her!! also, this is my absolute favorite blurb post i’ve written so far!! so happy with how these turned out :)

warnings: peter’s contains smut (18+ for his please)

•••

ben

- ben had been working a lot recently with all of the projects he has going on. meeting, after meeting, after meeting he had gone to, but now he finally has time off to spend with you. so, you let him sleep in while you got a head start on breakfast.

slipping out of bed, you throw on ben’s t-shirt that was discarded on the ground and make your way to the kitchen, getting the ingredients you need to make pancakes. after the batter was ready, you began placing small amounts onto the hot pan.

“so that’s where my shirt went,” ben’s gravelly voice rang out in the kitchen. glancing over at him, you smile and continue flipping pancakes.

“sorry. i was cold. didn’t think you would mind.” he groans and comes over to you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“thank you for letting me sleep in,” he murmurs, turning his head to place a kiss on your neck.

“it’s no problem. i know how exhausted you’ve been. but you didn’t sleep in much, i’ve only been down here for about ten minutes.” he chuckles and holds you tighter.

“as much as i would love more cuddles from you, can you please make some coffee?” you ask. groaning dramatically, ben slowly pulls away, his hands lingering on your waist for a few seconds longer before he went over to the coffee maker and started it. he also played some slow music to offset the quietness of the house.

you were about halfway through the batter when ben handed you a cup of coffee, prepared just how you like it.

“why don’t i finish making the pancakes and you drink your coffee?” he offers. you agree, handing him the spatula you’ve been flipping them with. you walk over to the counter adjacent to the stove and sip the hot drink in your hand, watching ben focus on making breakfast. his back muscles flex as he pours batter onto the pan, making you moan internally; he looks sexy doing anything.

you were so caught up in watching ben’s muscles, you didn’t realize that he had finished at this point, and walked right over to you.

“dance with me,” he whispers, grabbing your waist and dragging you to the center of the kitchen. you rest your head on his chest and your arms go around his waist as well, your song by elton john played quietly in the background.

“i love you,” he whispers again, placing a few kisses along your head. you smile and hum contently, gazing up at him to see his beautiful eyes.

“i love you too, ben. so much.”

“i can’t believe i get to spend the rest of my life with such a beautiful girl.”

peter

- peter and his father got into a rather big fight last night, which resulted in peter spending the night with you after his dad kicked him out. you didn’t mind one bit, though; you loved having peter over and being able to be with him without anyone interrupting.

peter was spooning you when you woke up, and there was a not-so-little problem: he had a boner. and you could feel it against your ass. deciding to tease him, you nonchalantly shuffle, acting as if you were moving to get comfortable, but you ground your butt right against his crotch.

a loud groan escaped peter’s mouth as he stayed asleep, and you were growing hornier by the second. then, you felt him grind back, soft whimpers and short breaths leaving his lips now.

“oh fuck,” he moans. you feel his cock twitch against you and that’s when you finally turn around to face him. his lips were parted and a look of pleasure took over his features. when the feeling of your butt was no longer on him, his eyes opened a little, squinting due to the sunlight.

“having a nice dream, babe?” you tease. he huffs and shakes his head, cheeks reddening as embarrassment takes over.

“hey, i’m only messing with you.” he smiles and crawls on top of you, kissing you deeply and grinding himself against your front this time.

“fuck, i need you so bad,” peter moans. you reach down between your bodies and slide his underwear down a little, letting his hard cock spring free. spreading your legs, you feel him push into you, both of you sighing loudly at the feeling. peter’s head falls into your neck as he continues his slow thrusts.

“fuck, you are so perfect,” he mumbles against your skin, biting down occasionally. his thrusts turned sloppy at one point, due to the fact that he was still half asleep.

“i’m gonna cum, peter.” he speeds up just a little and reaches down to toy with your clit. a few seconds later, your body arched into his and he released into you at the same time. he falls on top of you, still inside of you, and presses kisses all over your chest.

“well, that was a way to start our morning,” he breathes out. you chuckle and run your fingers through his hair.

“yeah, it was.”

“wanna take a shower together?” he asks.

“hell yeah.”

warren

- you awoke after the first night you had spent with warren in his room. he had been hesitant because of his insecurity of his wings. he worried that he would hurt you in the middle of the night, or push you off the bed. but, he didn’t do either of those things. his wings stayed wrapped around you, adding another layer of warmth to your freezing body.

shuffling a little, you turn your body and face warren’s sleeping figure. his hair was strewn across the pillow, his face squished against it, making him look like a literal angel. you smile as your hand comes up to push the curls from his face to get a better look at him.

“mhm, wha’ are you doin’, love?” warren mumbles sleepily, resting his wing over your body. you shrug and bring your hand to curl around a few feathers.

“just admiring you. you look so angelic when you sleep.” he laughs softly and slowly opens his eyes.

“it’s the wings, isn’t it?” you giggle and begin stroking his pristine feathers.

“they’re so warm to sleep under. can’t believe you made me wait this long to find that out.” a regretful look crosses his face. “oh, i didn’t mean it like that, war. i was joking.”

“i know. i also wish i hadn’t waited so long. that was the best sleep i think i’ve ever had. your presence is so comforting.”

“i’ll always be here when you need me, warren.”

“good, because i don’t wanna sleep alone ever again.”

six

- last night was a very stressful night. the group had come back from a mission, beat up and defeated. six walked right over to you, dragged you to your shared room in the house, and fell right onto the bed.

he fell right asleep though, after removing his dirty clothes of course. seeing as he was of no use to you finding answers, you went back to the living room to chat with the others. that’s when they revealed that they had almost failed the mission due to misinformation. thankfully, they were able to kill the criminals and get away. but them almost failing means all six of them were almost killed.

and they told you that. you were terrified knowing that you could’ve lost six just like that. and that’s when you really came to terms with how dangerous his job is.

after you stayed up talking with the group for a little while longer, everyone comforting each other over the traumatic night, you went straight to bed with six by your side.

you barely slept that night. your mind was filled with so many scenarios of what could’ve happened and how your life would’ve been like afterwards. you finally fell asleep for about three hours, but the sun shining through the window woke you up.

six was still fast asleep, breathing in and out peacefully and calmly. your hand comes to rest on his cheek, stroking the scar on his right eyebrow with your thumb.

“fuck, i don’t know what i would’ve done if you had died,” you whisper, sadness filling your tone. “i hate your job so much, but i know you love it. it’s so distressing and-”

“baby?” his voice startles you a little. you remove your hand and move away, scared of what he was going to say. “are you alright?” he wonders. taking a deep breath, you try to conceal your tears, but it doesn’t work. as soon as he notices you crying, he pulls you into his arms, rubbing your back with his hands as you cry into his chest.

“i could’ve lost you,” you whimper. he sighs, realizing why you’re so emotional.

“hey, hey. look at me, love.” you do as he says, gazing into his green eyes filled with sorrow.

“i know my job is dangerous, but you are what motivates me to come home from every mission. we know what we’re doing. those people we fought last night withheld information that put us in danger. but do you know what we did? we found the problem and finished the mission.” you nod along as he explains what happened last night, making you feel a bit better about the situation.

“i’m still scared you won’t come home one day,” you say, cuddling into his chest. his grip tightens as he holds you close, knowing you’ve been worried since day one.

“i know, love. i know. but you have to trust us, okay? i’ll always come back to you. i may not be unhurt every time, but i promise i will always come back.”

•••

taglist: @jonesyaddiction @spidey-pal @whenthe-smokeisinyoureyes @bvnhardys @babebenhardy @thankutaron @1-800-fandomsdestroyedme @thewinchesterchronicles @rogmeddows @stassaurus @onexlittlespark @delightfullynlove @fairestkillerqueenofall @awessomness

#ben hardy #ben jones #peter beale #warren worthington #six!ben #six #ben hardy imagines #ben hardy x reader #peter beale imagines #peter beale x reader #warren worthington imagines #warren worthington x reader #six imagines #six!ben imagines #six x reader #six!ben x reader #eastenders #x men apocalypse #6 underground #imagines #fanfiction #fanfic

[calamity-bean]

Reddie Fic Recs: Canon Divergent

Comprising stories that substantially alter the events of canon — typically so that Eddie survives the final showdown with Pennywise, because that’s the kind of content I crave. Includes ones set during the events of the film(s) as well as ones set in the future that use the premise that Eddie didn’t die. For stories in which Eddie dies like in canon but doesn’t necessarily stay dead, check out my Canon Compliant recs.

This is a mixture of complete works and WIPs, of various ratings and lengths, mostly recent (like, posted since the release of Chapter 2). If part of a series, I’ve listed only the first work. More possibly to be added at any time I feel like it!

the anatomy of a joke by crescenteluce

He trails off and Bev raises an eyebrow. ‘So, you being in bed together fits in there how exactly?’

‘No, Jesus, Bev.’ Eddie says and Richie, horrifyingly, feels his cheeks heat under Bev’s suspicious look. Something needs to be done, so he plucks Eddie’s phone from his hands.

‘I am appalled by your implications, Beverly.’ He says sternly, trying to ignore the blood still not quite done rushing to his face. ‘I would have you know that I’d never defile Eddie like that, the poor man’s 40 year old and still a virgin and if I’d have the honor of-’

He’s cut off by Eddie trying to wrestle the phone away from him as Bev cackles delightedly.

and they read off our names by liquidsky

Eddie survives.

Part 1 of that ends well to end up with you

Button Up Your Overcoat by stitchy

“It’s just a gut check, there is no gun to your balls here,” says Richie. "But if you were gonna be a dad... what do you think you’d like about it?”

Eddie glances at the dog, who just looks back at him like, I dunno, man, he didn’t clear this with me. I thought we were just hanging out and watching some Treehouse of Horror tonight.

Call It What You Want by hannahberrie

They’re just staring at each other in the middle of a crowded New York train station, and it’s almost midnight. There’s supposed to be a thunderstorm tonight, according to the forecast, but Eddie can’t really remember that right now.

In which, after separating from Myra, Eddie goes to stay at Richie's place in Manhatten.

Cards on the Table by jendavis

Ben had kissed Bev, and it had brought her back from the deadlights. Eddie tries the same thing with Richie. Richie comes out of it knowing how to kill it, and knowing that he'd just seen Eddie die.

He's kind of a mess. It's kind of Eddie's fault.

Part 1 of Writing on the Wall

Cruel Summer by actuallymaxie

Richie used to call it an itch. Eddie makes him feel like it’s something else. It’s one thing to feel it. It’s something else to be able to say it out loud.

Or: Eddie doesn’t die. That doesn’t mean there’s a happily ever after. Not right away, at least.

for better, for worse by kaspbrak_kid

Eddie's done a fucking lot of brave things in the past year and a half. He did a lot of brave things in Derry, and then left his wife and started therapy and came to Ben and Bev's wedding even though he's been in love with his best friend for somewhere between six months and thirty years. Even though he knew it'd be fucking hard. He's not sure how many brave things he has left in him.

hoping to be found by eddiespaghetti (foxwatson)

When everything in Derry is said and done, Eddie really doesn’t know what the fuck to do. He goes back to New York, alone, because he doesn't have any other immediate options - and he heals.

i am easy to find by zach_stone

Or, 25-year-old Richie Tozier doesn't know why he can't remember his childhood, or why he has nightmares about yellow eyes looming in the dark. Then he finds an old photo of friends he can't remember, and things start to change. A "what if Richie and Eddie found each other again during the 27 years" fic.

If You Believe by websters_lieb

What if Eddie held on just a little bit longer? What if the losers figured out how to kill it just a little bit earlier? What if Eddie made it out of Neibolt, injured and barely holding on, but alive?

When Eddie emerges from the cavern to see Richie floating, he just about shits himself.

Part 1 of The Ever After

In Case Of Emergency Contact E.Kaspbrak by stitchy

It wasn’t immediately obvious to the Losers that something was wrong with Richie after the Deadlights. After all, his eyesight had always been shit.

in the heat of the summer (you're so different from the rest) by kaboomslang

There’s a heatwave in L.A., the first time Richie sees Eddie naked.

or

One very hot year in the life of two idiots in love, working shit out.

In This Cold Heart by pineapplecrushface

The future Richie sees while he's caught in the deadlights gives him a chance to save Eddie. In the year afterward, they both try to follow Stan's advice.

it’s about time that you just unwind by fuckener

“It sucked to tell people,” Richie said suddenly, tapping a finger on his glass. He was avoiding eye contact again. “Like - it just really fucking sucked. I’m old. I’m like middle-aged. You’re this old and you just start telling people you're gay, they think, ‘Jesus! That dude’s got issues.’ Because they’re right, and you do.”

“It must have come as a real shock to our friends,” Eddie said, staring. “That you have issues.”

it’s coming out backwards by banksoflochlomond

The problem is that he’s known it his entire life. Or at least as long as Eddie started sputtering after Richie’s “your mom” jokes. As long as Eddie, with his small delicate fucking body, muscled up to him and told Richie he was gonna get herpes from licking the swingset. As long as Richie’s known his button nose, still nice as shit after twenty-seven fucking years.

But Richie’s never said it out loud. Never let himself feel it, except when he had to. Maybe that’s why Richie was so good at forgetting Derry. He never wanted to remember. Never wanted to deal with the albatross he’d pretty much surgically attached to his back.

He’s got to, though. Say it out loud. Say it to Eddie.

(Or, Eddie survives. The road for Richie isn't any easier, though.)

it’s time the kid got free by zach_stone

But now he remembers his childhood, and the fierceness of all the emotions he felt back then — love most of all. Love was a blood oath, it was Bev handing him the fencepost that could kill monsters, it was what made him throw that fencepost into Its gaping maw to save Richie from the deadlights.

When it comes to what love feels like for Eddie, it’s always been — different, with Richie. He loves all of his friends with all of his heart, but Richie has burrowed in deeper, somehow, and if Eddie were a more dramatic or poetic man he might say he loves Richie in his bones, in his soul. But he isn’t, so he doesn’t say that, even if he maybe thinks it a little bit and feels ridiculous.

just be still with me by eddiespaghetti (foxwatson)

Eddie Kaspbrak is 38, working as a driver in New York. Richie Tozier is a stand up comic who comes to New York on a one way ticket to audition for SNL, and his agent has hired Eddie as his driver. There's something familiar about Richie, though Eddie knows they've never met. While Richie insists on sitting in the front seat and making something more than small talk, Eddie struggles to maintain professional distance.

Basically - what if Eddie and Richie did forget, and didn't see each other for 25 years, but they fell in love anyways.

Part 1 of i can stare for a thousand years (you wouldn't believe what i've been through)

The Kids Table by stitchy

For the most part Richie and his sister have a doctrine of mutually assured destruction. They could obliterate each other with their parents given the slightest provocation. To keep things at an even keel, they steer clear of each other as much as possible every other day of the year, but on Thanksgiving? Kids Table is like their NATO.

A series of Tozier Thanksgivings, from '85 to '19.

last ones out by gayingenue

Richie wonders if it’s always been this hard for him to touch Eddie. It hasn’t; they were incredibly touchy as kids, falling all over each other, gangly limbs intertwined. Even as adults, a few days before, Richie had barely been able to keep his hands off of him. Eddie almost dying did something, though. Chipped away at something deep within Richie. From the bed, Eddie laughs.

Like Pulling Teeth by  stitchy

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie muttered. Maybe there was a curling iron around here somewhere he could electrocute himself with. He scrounged a few safety pins from the counter and passed them to Bev without looking directly at Richie. He knew he was being a little bitch, but he could not let on how jealous he was. Their friendship barely survived the Christmas Richie got a Sega.

- In which Eddie mistakes wanting to be ON Richie for wanting to BE Richie -

Love It If We Made It by areyoureddiekids

Eddie lives. Richie stumbles through being in love with the man who used to be, and could still be, his best friend, and maybe something more. This is how they find each other again as adults, in the aftermath of finally killing It.

men who are afraid of the light by beepbeep (aceface)

Eddie survives.

“Well,” says Richie. “I wanted to fuck Paul Bunyan and nothing turns you off your homosexual urges like a murder clown filling his mouth with dagger teeth. Can you imagine those wrapped around your dick? Worst blowjob ever.”

Missing the Boat by stitchy

About a year after Derry, the Losers plan a cruise to Bev and Ben's destination wedding. Cross country travel being the bitch it is, Richie and Eddie miss the boat and get stranded until they can catch a flight out to Hawaii. It's a blast from the past Good Time TM, but Eddie wants to know- why has Richie been so distant?

Part 1 of Missing the Boat 

My Four Leaf Clover by pineapplecrushface

After Derry, Eddie starts dreaming, gets his shit together, and figures out how to live.

New Page, Same Old Book by Rend_Herring

He thought he’d hidden these feelings from himself, stowed them away in some dark corner and learned not to think about it. But the second Eddie peaked in from around the corner at the Jade and looked at Richie with those big, limpid pools of Christmas Orphan meets Bambi, and started rambling about gluten and cashews, it all came flooding back into focus. Richie has loved Eddie so long that it’s become an ache that goes beyond reason.

no sense of living without aim by Anonymous

Eddie had been on grindr for all of two days and in that time he’d already seen more dicks than he had in the nearly forty years of his life. He’d gone methodically through his messages and blocked all the catfishes, the possible serial killers and the bores, and eventually settled on a promising ‘37. DTF. I'll make u a drink after’ (637 feet away).

Or, sometimes your long-lost childhood crush is the anonymous hook-up you meet along the way.    

not quite young by saintsrow2

Richie was sitting in a chair in front of a dressing table, looking into the lit-up mirror while he sipped a glass of amber bourbon. He looked up when Eddie walked in and then there were no words; neither of them had thought this far ahead. Eddie stood awkwardly in the open door, feeling very much like he was still waiting for the big prank to be revealed, for there to be machinations behind all of this that he couldn’t understand. “Hey, Trashmouth,” he said, eventually. “Hey, Eds,” Richie said. “You know I always hated being called that,” Eddie said. “Not when it’s me.”

An AU in which Richie and Eddie meet before Mike calls them all back to Derry, the affair that follows, and the consequences both of them want to ignore.

Richie and Eddie Outrun the Devil (in Richie’s Rental Car) by sofia_estrella

“If It’s trying to kill us, I don’t want to get on an airplane.”

“Air travel is statistically safer than—”

“Eds, please. I don’t think I can handle a cross-country flight by myself right now. There isn’t enough Ambien in the world.”

Eddie snorts. “What are you gonna do then?”

“Drive, I guess.”

“You’re gonna… drive… to L.A.?”

+ alternate title: An Evil Clown Can’t Kill You If You Drive Fast Enough

(Stand-Up) Routines & (Engagement) Rings by cajungirlkye

2 years after the events of IT: Chapter Two, Richie brings Eddie out on stage during one of his stand-up performances in order to ask a Very. Important. Question.

sweet as cherry wine by pearlshop

“Can I come in?” Eddie asks, teeth chattering. He’s soaked to the bone, a cornflower blue polo clinging to his small shoulders. It’s the only thing he’s wearing besides a pair of khakis that are also soaked through. Richie is suddenly very sober. “Eds?” or: Eddie leaves Myra and shows up at Richie's door.

Things that Happen after Eddie Lives by IfItHollers

In a world where Richie manages to save Eddie from It after the deadlights, they still have problems on their to-do list. Featuring everything from Derry to Los Angeles—Richie Tozier's murder trial, Eddie Kaspbrak's divorce proceedings, bedsharing of the platonic and non-platonic varieties, an investigation of magic, a truly disgusting séance, the quintessential morosexual road trip, and OH MY GOD THEY WERE ROOMMATES.

Part 1 of Things that Happen After

we're f***ing killing it, babe by thenewlondoner (muleumpyo)

Richie has been back in Derry for three days and murdered an Eldritch horror-esque monster from space or possibly from some weird meta-verse, who knows, and faced both of his childhood fears of clowns and his own death, as well as the possibility of losing his first love just as he remembered they fucking existed, he’d like some slack cut for him on the emotional front, thank you!

OR

Eddie is dead, but the Losers carry him out of the house on Neibolt anyway. Which is good, because Eddie is not dead.

we were always here at the right time by fuckener

Eddie’s eyes were getting heavy again. Richie helped him back down to the pillow.

“It’s always kind of like this, isn’t it,” he mumbled.

Richie didn’t move. He was still holding Eddie’s hand, his shoulder.

“Like what?” he asked softly.

“You and me,” Eddie said. What else?

what doesn’t kill me (makes me want you more) by beautifulbane

Eddie survives. He goes back to New York and divorces Myra, but a part of him is still unhappy. It isn’t until he sees Richie a year later at Ben and Bev’s wedding that he realizes why.

you're already gone by ameliepoulain

You can never get enough, Robert Smith cries over the static, and Richie turns around wearing that dumb smile again.

All Eddie can think is: soon, all this will be gone.

You’re So Stupid by StilesBastille24

“Hey,” Richie greets brightly.

Eddie looks over, one hand reaching for the remote to turn off the tv. “They said their letting me out today,” he says, eyes narrowed as he peers over Richie’s shoulder. “You know, Derry’s hospital doesn’t even make the rank of top hospitals in Maine? I’ll be lucky if I’m not back in here from a fucking blood infection in two days.” He braces both of his palms against the mattress and tries to push himself further upright.

Richie swoops in before something horrific like split stitches can occur. “Cool it, Evel Knievel, or your going to be bleeding all over these perfectly white sheets, and then they’ll definitely think twice about letting you out of here.”

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #it chapter 2 #it 2017 #it films #fic recs #op #reddie canon divergent #reddie rec lists

[writeyourownlifestory]

SUCKER PUNCHED

Chapters: 4/9 Fandom: IT Rating: M Warnings: Mention of past child // psychological abuse, Fight Club!au, mentions of suicide attempt.  Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Beverly Marsh/Ben Hanscom Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, learning to love yourself

Tag list: @richietoaster, @beproudtozier, @that-weird-girls-blog, @s-onora, @s-s-georgie, @bellarosewrites, @iamcupcakefrosting, @reddieonwheels, @ghostnebula, @madidraw @madi-main, @gazebobullshit, @thoughtfullyyoungduck​, @airbenderking, @ambitiousskychild

By the time Eddie was 13, he was allergic to peanuts, tree nuts, and several cooking oils. By 15, he had never swum in gym class and never went to a friend’s birthday party or had one of his own. By 16, Eddie knew that he liked looking at boys rather than looking at girls, though that didn’t seem to matter at the time. By 18, he had graduated high school and that was the end of his social life. And by 21, Eddie’s life had been torn to pieces.

He was a victim of Munchausen syndrome by proxy and now left without a mother, without a home, and without a clue. On top of being told he should go to group therapy, his caseworker had also suggested doing something to blow off some steam. Join a book club or go to the gym. Or maybe join a need-to-know based fight club. Either or.

Chapters one, two, three

As it turned out, Eddie didn’t have much to lose after all.

He tried to think of a couple of things that would make it into a good excuse not to go to the gym, but he kept coming up empty. He did need to start working out and getting healthy. Sure, his mom pumped him up with supplements and protein, but that didn’t make him healthy. He was walking everywhere nowadays, so his legs were getting a good hit, but what about his arms?

Sure, he had to carry the heavy boxes at the store and lifted a few of them while restocking, but he knew he could do better. It wasn’t like he was getting thrown into the ring after all. He would hit a few machines and lift a few weights. Nothing worth bragging about.

After coming home from work, he hung around the house for a little bit, having nothing else really to do. Ben and Beverly were going to see a movie and while they had invited him to tag along, he declined, claiming he had something he had to take care of. The two had done everything they could to not make him feel like he was the third wheel, but sometimes two people just needed to be alone, whether they were a couple or not.

Mrs. Hanscom was working late, so he had the house to himself for a little while. He lasted about twenty minutes before he threw in the towel and changed from his work shirt and jeans into a plain tee-shirt and shorts. He locked the door behind him and made his way into town, down Main street and up to the gym.

He looked through the window, finding it somewhat empty for the night. He guessed even gym rats had something else to do on a Friday night. There were only a couple of guys inside and after a few minutes of just standing there, he finally entered.

Richie was off in the morning, doing a handful of genetic stretches on the mat. Eddie didn’t want to think of how often, or lack thereof, the mat was wiped down just like the rest of the machines.

Eddie liked to keep it clean, as it was something they would do every week back when he was living with his mother. Sonia Kaspbrak wasn’t one with OCD, but it was a chance for them to bond together. Wiping everything down with Lysol was a great way to get rid of any common germs and Eddie had learned from a very early age how to disinfect and keep order.

“Eds!” Richie called out upon spotting him.

“It’s Eddie.” He retorted, already wondering if he had made the right decision.

“Eds is short for Eddie.”

“And Eddie is already short for Edward.”

“Richie is short for Richard. Wanna know something even shorter?”

“If you say your dick, I’m leaving.”

Richie gasped, placing his hand over his chest as he faked shock and dismay. “Edward! How could you? Why would I ever lie about my penis like that?”

“Beep, Beep, Richie.” Eddie stared at him, blank and unimpressed. “Can we get this over with?”

“Don’t sound so depressed, Eds. You’re spending your night with a certified hottie.” Adjusting his headband, he brought Eddie over to the machine. He gave a quick rundown of what it was called and how to use it. “This is a rower. Like a boat, all right? Hold onto that, keep your legs straight, you’re gonna lean back and well, row.”

“Doesn’t sound too bad.”

Richie chuckled, slapping his shoulder before adjusting the weight.

The machine turned out to be a nightmare as it required a hell of a lot more muscles than Eddie thought he was capable of using. Even in a lighter setting, he felt like he was straining himself just to be able to keep up. He did a couple of sets or reps, whatever Richie called them before Richie moved him onto the next machine.

He hadn’t brought water or anything to keep him hydrated so he had to stick with the tiny paper cups from the water cooler in the corner. He tried not to think about how many times that water was changed out. He was too parched to taste the bland, staleness of old water.

When the first hour passed they took a small break. They sat against the mirrors, watching the other guys who came to work out do their sets. “So, any chance of you becoming a gym rat like the rest of us?” Richie asked him, resting his chin on his bent knees.

Eddie was very doubtful that he’d ever willingly want to work out. Ever would willingly want to sweat into his clothes and strain his muscles until he was left tired and aching.

He remembered his mother shaking her head whenever the Olympics would come around and they’d sit by the television and watch all the competitions. Sonia would comment about how they would work so hard just for one chance at winning.

“All of that hard work for nothing,” she would comment whenever they lost. Eddie, the innocent one, who always tried to be optimistic, reminded her about the winners. “They might have won but how long will that last? Trust me, Eddie-Bear. They will lose that shapely body soon enough and get addicted to opioids just like every other former star.”

She turned the television off after that. Very rarely did they watch anything that contained athletes or anything other than game shows and children’s programming. It’s a mystery Eddie turned out even half okay after having a woman like that as his only companion for so long.

He wondered what his mother would be thinking if she knew where he was. If she knew her precious little boy was sweating and working out on machines that hadn’t been cleaned and drinking water almost from the tap.

“How much is it?” Eddie questioned, deciding to throw caution to the wind.

It wound up only costing Eddie fifteen bucks a month to join. He found that to be pretty decent on account of it being a small private gym.

A small group of women came in and greeted Richie as Eddie was signing up. They flashed their teeth at him and Richie commented, calling them pearly white and magnificent. Eddie brushes his teeth every morning and every night, always flossing in between and using that terrible tasting mouthwash whenever he could. Dental hygiene was important and taking care of his mouth was one thing Eddie took pride in even after leaving his mother’s house.

Once his membership was started, Eddie hung around for a few minutes after, using the hand weights that were in the corner. He found himself watching as Richie went around the room, helping out those who needed it. He had a way about him that even if you had just met him, he’d find a way to get under your skin. Whether or not it was in a good way all depended on Richie but that was his style.

They left together after another half hour. Eddie was tired and he knew he would be sore in the morning.

“Now that you joined maybe we could become gym buddies?” Richie had suggested, playfully bumping their shoulders together as they walked down the street.

They did become gym buddies, much to Eddie’s dismay. His body aches for days after the first trip and he had become very comfortable with standing in the freezers of the grocery store on days when he felt extra sore.

Richie didn’t go easy on him but he also knew not to test his limits. They found a routine that worked for them both and on days when Richie couldn’t make it or their schedules just couldn’t line up, Ben and Beverly were more than happy to tag along with him.

It may not have been his intention of becoming a gym rat but he found himself going two to three times a week. Any night when he wasn’t in the mood to just sit back and watch tv or read a book or do a puzzle.

He also went out to the farm to watch a fight now and then. He still didn’t understand it that much, the rapid appeal of going head to head with another person, but it was another excuse to get out of the house and socialize.

Eddie found himself doing a lot of things he wouldn’t have thought he would do before coming. He was eating new foods all the time, trying different things.

He was making his own choices, going out to buy his clothes with Beverly in tow. She didn’t choose anything for him but gave her the best intel since she had a thing for fashion.

He found his sense of style for the first time. He found his sense of reality for the first time. Making his own choices and doing things he wanted to do without worrying if he would get in trouble or he would make his mommy angry.

It hadn’t been what Eddie expected when he first arrived in Bangor. Trying to move on from the life he once lived wasn’t easy but the alternative wasn’t much better.

He had spoken up about it during one of the group meetings. He was half listening, not even sure what the topic was but nobody else commented. It was obvious the director was feeling a bit dejected and thought well, why not?

“We try to find a middle ground. Between the life, we lived before breaking away and the life we’ve been thrown into now that we're out of that situation. It’s not easy. May not even be possible but, it’s worth trying right?”

“That’s right, Mr. Kaspbrak. That’s exactly right.”

“Look at you making an impression in the group,” Beverly mentioned as they left.

Eddie didn’t want a pat on the back for coming up with something that made sense or for just being honest. He knew everybody had been through something similar and he wasn’t going to pretend like he had done or said anything poetic. If they didn’t find something to hold onto, something to shape their life around, then what was the point of having a life, to begin with?

“Are you seeing Richie tonight?” Beverly asked.

He was but not for the gym. The old theatre was playing some old-time movies and Richie thought it would be good for Eddie to see them. He had blown a gasket when he found out Eddie hadn’t seen Titanic and Back to the Future so they had begun to have designated movie nights.

Sometimes they would invite Ben and Beverly and on other nights it would be a rude group thing. The sorry lot of Bangor Maine had welcomed Eddie in without a second thought and they planned on spending the remaining days of their summer before Bill and Stan went back to school out of state enjoying every part of this.

They had shown him all different types of movies, from black and white classics to modern horror. They were widening his horizon film-wise and he found that it was a great way to spend his night.

On this particular night, it was just Richie and himself, watching the classic film Singin’ in the Rain. Richie insisted he wasn’t a dancer in any way but he has a passion for Gene Kelly and Donald O’Connor.

The movie itself was rather grand and Eddie wondered why his mother hadn’t allowed him to watch it. Perhaps the dancing ladies were a bit too much but he found it to be enjoyable.

They found their way to the diner afterward, sitting in the far corner away from sight. Richie ordered waffles even though it was nearly eleven pm, asking for syrup, and whipped cream, and peanut butter all on top.

Richie was rambling on about the film they had just seen and then suggesting a few others along the way. “I certainly can’t believe you’ve never seen Star Wars man. Not even like on tv or something during the holidays?”

“I wasn’t given a lot of screen time, Rich.” Eddie reminded him.

He had opened up to Richie slowly over the weeks of them knowing each other. Ben hadn’t said much about his predicament other than his mother was overly protected and shielded him from the world. Eddie had been the one to tell Richie just how bad it had been in between their weekly gym meetups and regular hangouts.

Richie took it in stride, never once showing that he felt sorry for Eddie. He treated him just like every other person, apologizing only when a “your mom” joke slipped through his lips because old habits were hard to break.

“Seriously, dude. We’re watching it. You’re gonna come over to my place and I’m making you sit through it all.”

“Aren’t there like, six of them?”

“Technically nine bit the prequels aren't that important unless you want backstory and the newer ones are garbage. An only good thing to come out of them is the eye candy.” He placed his hand dramatically over his chest. “Oscar Isaac? Oh, be still my beating vagina.”

The waitress came over then, placing their food down between them.

“Did you just quote Mamma Mia 2?”

Richie slammed his fist down on the table, something that the waitress seemed completely unfazed by. “You haven’t seen Star Wars but you’ve seen Mamma Mia 2?!”

“And the first one. Mrs. Hanscom showed them to me.”

“You, Edward, have hurt me today. I don’t know how I’m gonna cope.” He announced and then proceeds to dig into his waffle.

Eddie ate his food, which consists of a simple grilled cheese. They had gotten popcorn at the theatre and he didn’t want to start pigging out just because he was working out more. He watched Richie gorge himself on the sloppy, crunchy waffle and found himself realizing he had never eaten a normal pancake or waffle.

Everything had been gluten-free, sugar-free. He never tried whipped cream or peanut butter. Due to his birthday being around the time of thanksgiving his mom would make him a fruit cake or sometimes a gelatin cake. He didn’t even know what real birthday cake tasted like.

“Can I ask you a weird question?” He asked suddenly. “Can I have a bite?”

“A bite?” Richie asked, his mouth still full from his bite.

“I’ve never had a waffle. I’ve never had peanut butter.”

Richie swallowed hard, shaking his head in despair. “Fuck, Eds. Your mom messed you up good, didn’t she?” He slid the plate over, knowing better than offering Eddie his fork to eat off of. “Knock yourself off.”

Eddie grabbed his fork and knife to cut off a small piece. It looked soggy and heavy, completely covered in the sticky substances. He took the bite slowly, chewing it down carefully. It was hard to describe; the ooey-gooey, nutty flavor mixed with the maple of the syrup and the creaminess of the whipped cream.

Richie was watching him intensely, ready to jump into action in the rare chance his mom wasn’t lying and he needed to inject him with an EpiPen just in case.

“Well?” He asked after a moment.

“Holy shit,” Eddie replied.

“Is that a good holy shit or bad holy shit?”

“A very good holy shit. Holy shit!”

“I know right? Delicious.”

“Disgustingly delicious.”

“Do you want your own?” Richie asked, already half turning down he could get their waitresses' attention.

“No.” Eddie decided. “I want Reece’s cup.”

“Yeah? We can get you one of those.”

And they did. After leaving the diner they went down to the nearest 7/11 and bought Eddie Reece’s cup and other assortments of candy that he had been deprived of his entire life.

They spent the rest of the night driving around, eating candy, and just laughing about the stupid shit going on in their town. It was nearly one am when Richie dropped Eddie off at home.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot Spaghetti,” Richie asked, shifting in the darkness of the car. He turned on the lights above them, giving them a chance to see one another.

“Why do you think Ben and Beverly aren’t together?” He asked carefully. “It’s obvious they like one another. Even I can see that.”

“You’re not the only one,” Richie chuckled dryly. “I think they’re scared. They don’t wanna lose what they had, you know? Good friendships are hard to come by.”

“What would you do?”

“In their situation?” Richie shifted once more, turning his body slightly, uncomfortable against the restraints of the seatbelt. “Oh boy. Well. Hmm.”

He laughed again, awkward this time around. He looked to Eddie, reaching up to adjust his glasses slightly.

“You kind of told me your own sob story, so I guess it’s only fair I tell you to mind.” He admitted, turning his face so he looked at Eddie somewhat properly. “Look. You know I’m gay right?” He asked then.

Eddie had more or less guessed it along the way. Richie had been very upfront with the flirting, but he also was like that with people of all sexes. Very open and bubbly. Eddie found it somewhat off-putting in the beginning. Eddie, who was so somber and quiet, who had been trained and conditioned to be this quiet, gentle soul like his mother wanted him to be was a very large contrast to Richie’s outwardly and blunt personality.

He had grown used to it over time, thanks to the spare chances they had been given to be around one another. It was still a lot for Eddie to get used to, but after the endless comments about certain male celebrities, it led Eddie to believe Richie leaned more towards one side than the other.

“I don’t make it very subtle,” Richie admitted, another quiet laugh slipping through his lips.

“Back when I was in high school, there was this guy. His name was Connor. We met at the arcade and we sort of . . . we became friends. Like, fast friends. And like Bev and Ben, we spent all our time together. Anyway, I sort of always knew I liked Han more than Leia, so it didn’t take long for me to become head over heels for him. We wound up going to prom together as friends. We hung around the bleachers and all I kept thinking about was wanting to dance with him, you know? Not even just slow dance but just get out there and move our bodies. To just dance with another guy! Later on, we went outside to smoke and on the way back in I stopped him. I just looked at him and couldn’t stop myself. I kissed him there in the hallway. And you know, for a split second I could have sworn he kissed me back.”

“But he didn’t?”

Richie shook his head, his tongue slipping across his dry lips nervously. “Someone spotted us. Soon everybody was gathering in the hallway to see what the queers were doing. He pushed me away and a fight started. He tried to choke me right there, surrounded by everybody until the teachers pulled him off me. He said some not so nice things.”

“What happened after?”

“I had to survive without my best friend. And I guess I didn’t know-how. Being called a faggot is one thing, but hearing how sick you are. Knowing the one person you care about most in the world thought you were better off dead. It’s hard to imagine otherwise. I decided to prove him right.”

“Rich….”

“That’s how I wound up at the gym. After tossing myself off a bridge and living to tell the tale, my parents put me through all sorts of therapy. One of them happened to be physical. I decided after that I wasn’t going to hide anymore. I’d be the real me, whether people liked it or not. I dialed it down a bit. I was an annoying little shit who used to do voices and stuff.”

“You still do that.”

Eddie could count on both hands how many times he would slip into some character while they were working out. Eddie first thought it was a way to egg him on and give him a bit of a push but he soon realized it was just Richie’s personality.

Richie didn’t seem like the type that would have done something like that. Had put himself in harm's way because of the sadness he kept. Eddie knew that it was something of a well-known fact. That some of the cheeriest people can be so dead inside. That the loudest voice could be the quietest call for help.

It made Eddie angry to know that someone Richie had held so dearly could treat him so badly. Could have turned on him for his issues. It didn’t make sense to him and all he could think about was wanting to know why.

“Thank you for telling me this,” Eddie told him.

Richie adjusted his glasses again, putting on a far genuine smile as he glanced back over to him. “So now that you know my villain origin story can I ask something about you?”

“Shoot.”

“What would you do?”

Eddie didn’t have an answer. It could have been easy to say just go for it but the reality was Eddie didn’t know if he would even make that leap. He got out of the car then, shrugging in response as he bid Richie a good night.

Eddie went to bed, surrounded by his sweet treats, falling asleep to the thoughts of Richie’s laughter and wondering what he would do in that position.

#Richie Tozier #Eddie Kaspbrak #Reddie #Reddie au #IT au #IT fanfic #Reddie Fanfic #Connor Bowers

[cards-onthetable]

the strangest autumn

Note: This fluffy little Joble oneshot is meant to be read in the context of @ontherockswithsalt‘s penthouse universe. the names Cavatappi (Cav) and Tripoline (Trip) are hypothetical pasta placeholders in this hypothetical future scenario in which everything is hypothetical and nothing is real okay? Okay.

***

“Ughhh, when are we gonna be there?”

In the passenger seat, Noble suppresses a laugh at our five-year-old’s dramatic groan, leaving me to glance at Cav’s eyes in the rear view mirror and answer him. “We were in the car a lot longer yesterday and you didn’t complain once.”

“You said this was gonna be short!” He counters.

“It is! We’re like… ten minutes away.”

“Ten minutes is looooong!”

“Look out the window and tell us when you see the pumpkin signs,” Noble suggests. “That means we’re really close.”

“This thing better be worth the hype,” I mutter, low so the boys can't hear.

“It’ll be great once we actually—“

A loud wail from our three-year-old’s car seat cuts him off. “Hey, leave your brother alone,” I warn. 

“Every trip we take, you’re all negative about it until we get there and you have a great time,” Noble tells me. “Just relax and have fun, okay?”

“Not every trip we take--”

“Yeah, pretty much. You’re always too worried about having everything be perfect. But it doesn’t have to be perfect, it just has to be us.” His arm nudges mine on the center console. “The boys will have fun, we’ll have fun, we’ll be exhausted by the time we get home, it’s all part of the experience.”

“Well the experience of everything changing at the last minute is not my favorite.”

“Oh so you’d rather hang out with Ben and Scott than be alone with your own husband—“ he teases.

The mention of our friends catches Cav’s attention and he excitedly pipes up, “Is Cleo gonna be there?”

“Nice work,” I tell Noble as he explains again, “No buddy, remember? Cleo is sick so she had to stay home.”

I think that’s what has me on edge this weekend. Scott’s the one who did the heavy lifting as far as planning this little weekend getaway. He and Ben brought their daughter Cleo to this fall festival last year, back when Noble and I were just starting the process to become foster parents, and I’m pretty sure this damn trip was like, their number one priority the second Cav and Trip moved in with Noble and me. Seriously, Scott booked the Airbnb back in March.

So I couldn’t help but feel a little anxious about having to suddenly do all my own research when Scott and Ben bowed out because of Cleo’s strep throat. I was all ready to postpone until next weekend, or maybe cancel altogether. But they, and Noble, insisted we stick to our plans. They’re even still covering their half of the cabin. So I didn’t have much choice.

“I see the pumpkin sign!” Cav shouts a few minutes later, and sure enough a giant, bright orange wooden pumpkin alerts us that the Parker Farm Fall Festival is one mile ahead.

“Are you excited?” I ask, an appropriate amount of conjured enthusiasm in my voice.

Both boys shout proof back at me.

“Trip, are you gonna pick out a pumpkin?” Cav says. “Your very own pumpkin?”

“I want a pumpkin!” Trip replies.

“Well guess what, Papa said we both get to pick out a pumpkin!”

Cav’s habit of speaking to his little brother like that—like Trip is still a little baby who doesn’t understand anything that’s going on, like it’s Cav’s job to explain it—usually gets on my nerves but I manage to ignore it as I roll past bored teenage attendants who direct me to the next open spot in the field full of parked cars.

“We’re here!” Noble announces. “Be careful boys, we’re in a parking lot…”

Stepping out into the crisp morning air, a deep cleansing breath helps to ease that lingering tension in my gut. In my frantic, last minute research of this fall festival, I read about all the events and activities to make a mental list of everything I thought we’d all enjoy. But I know Noble’s right, I need to relax and let the day unfold organically.

It’s not about checking boxes and rushing from place to place to cover every activity that caught my eye. Hell, Cav and Trip would probably be thrilled to spend the entire damn day on the moonbounces. It’ll be a fun, memorable weekend even if we don’t make it to every single attraction.

“Is there snacks here? Can we get popcorn?” Cav chatters across the parking lot. “Can we get a pumpkin that weighs a million pounds? Are we gonna see the inside? The slimy stuff…?”

“Snacks, yes. Popcorn, we’ll see. Million pound pumpkin, only if Papa carries it to the car,” I reply.

“Nuh-uh,” Noble tells him. “I’m the brains of this operation. Daddy’s the brawn.”

“What’s brawn?”

“Brawn means big, strong muscles.”

“I have big strong muscles!” Cav brings his fists up in a flex, nearly whacking the woman in front of us in line. “I’m the brawn.”

“Hey, son, watch out for other people,” Noble warns.

“Are you going to carry a million pound pumpkin to the car?” I ask Cav.

“I carry the pumpkin!” Trip insists.

“You’ll both get to carry a pumpkin.”

“Next in line?”

Noble and I usher the boys to the painted plywood booth. “Two adults and two kids,” Noble says.

“He��s three, is he free?” I wonder, swinging Trip up onto my hip.

“Sorry, just two and under. Do you want one-day admission or weekend passes? That includes the hot air balloon launch tomorrow.”

“We’ll do the whole weekend.”

While Noble pays, I manage to get green paper wristbands onto both boys and myself. Then we emerge from the gateway into the wide, dead grass expanse of the pumpkin patch.

“Whoa it’s a—!”

Cav is already barreling forward as I turn to Noble, his face a reflection of my own caught somewhere between amusement and shock. “Did he just—?”

“What did you say, Cav?” I call.

“It’s a bitch! Dad! Take a picture!”

“It’s a witch,” I insist. “A witch is… a magical woman. Bitch is not a nice word. We don’t ever say that, okay?”

I’m sure he’s not listening to me as he poses next to the wooden board painted with a cartoon witch, cat, and frog with open ovals where their faces should be. “No buddy, you have to go behind it and put your face in the hole…” I try to explain.

“Cav, Cav. Come here.” Noble tugs him by the arm and they disappear around the back of the photo prop with Trip. A second later their heads appear in the face holes and I snap a couple of quick pictures.

“I wanna see!” Trip shouts, while behind him Cav takes off in some other direction. Noble catches my eye with a happy, goofball smirk before chasing after him and I can’t help the little laugh that escapes me.

The kids’ enthusiasm is contagious and Noble and I just follow their lead. Within the first hour we hit up a moonbounce, climb on a display tractor and a huge pile of hay bales, take a detour to the line of port-o-potties, and convince the boys to ride down the giant homemade hill slides on our laps. And they don’t let us pass any of those painted photo-op boards without stopping for more pictures.

It’s been hard, parenting Cav and Trip, in ways we didn’t quite expect. Adding two preschoolers to our family certainly took some adjustment but we were pretty well prepared for those challenges, at least as much as first-time parents can be. The part that nobody warned us about was the inevitable drama of foster care — the constant scrutiny, the arbitrary demands, the frustration of sharing kids who feel like ours with another parent whose questionable decisions drag them, and us, down all kinds of unpredictable roads.

But here, away from the relentless bustle of the city, all that feels far away — almost like a whole different life. Here it’s just us, a normal family having normal fun, nobody looking over our shoulders. Standing next to my husband, who looks all casual and innocent in jeans and a thick, dark orange cardigan like he doesn’t know what he does to me. Watching our kids squeal in delight, free and uncontained and totally fascinated by the open space and the fresh air and the pit filled with dried corn kernels that will surely find their way back to our house like a thousand unwanted souvenirs.

No obligations, no real agenda — a strange feeling, entirely unfamiliar. Just this warm, overwhelming affection blooming in my chest against the chilly air as our younger son clambers back to us from across the corn kernel sandbox.

“Daddy! I wanna ride the train!” Trip announces, pointing at the tractor dragging a chain of little orange cars behind it.

I agree easily. “Alright, let’s go ride the train. Cav!”

“No, not the train!” Cav whines. “I want to do the big one with the big tractor where there’s ghosts!”

“We’ll do that too, the big hayride. After this, though, come on.”

Noble turns to me a moment later, a knowing grin on his face as the boys rumble away on the train. “Having fun yet?”

“I suppose,” I offer my easy answer as I try for another picture of the train.

His teasing elbow digs into my side. “Give me a break, you love this shit.”

“This? Having fun with them? Sure. But the port-o-potty situation here...”

He cracks up, throwing his head back with that whole-body laugh of his that never fails to charm me. “Okay, god, I’ll handle the next bathroom break. But come on. This is amazing.”

“It is,” I acquiesce with a chuckle. “Oh, but look. We’ve got to make them keep their heads up in those picture boards. Every single one, they’re looking down at themselves.”

Flipping through my phone, he sees what I’m talking about — all these pictures of the tops of the boys’ heads sticking through face holes as they look down at their painted corn cob or scarecrow or superhero bodies.

“It’s a difficult concept, clearly,” Noble laughs. “And hey, if my choices are looking up at you or looking down at my off-brand Superman six-pack, I’d probably choose the six-pack too.”

“I don’t need anyone to paint me fake abs. I’ve got the real thing.” I smack my hand against my stomach for emphasis, a quiet thump over my zipped hoodie. “Which you could too if you cut down on the pancakes and bacon—”

“Hey, okay, some ass-flavored green smoothie might be good enough for you in the morning but I’m not sending my kids to school without a real breakfast.”

“Yes, right, you’re father of the year,” I tease. “With the dad-bod to go with it.”

“Hey!” He drops his shoulder and checks me sideways, knocking me off balance a couple of steps until I grab his arm to steady myself. “Not even close. And like, I didn’t hear you complaining yesterday morning…”

“This is a family place, dude,” I warn.

“Where’d you even learn the term dad-bod?” He scoffs. “Like you’re all young and hip or something. Old man.”

I straighten my shoulders set my narrowed gaze on him. “Old man? That’s not what you were saying yesterday morning—”

“Look who’s back!” Noble interrupts loudly as the train rolls to a stop in front of us. “Did you have fun, guys?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Cav shrugs like he’s too cool for this toddler train business. But the smile he’s failing to hide gives him away.

“Papa, I want popcorn!” Trip shouts.

“Yeah, popcorn!”

“Okay, let’s go find popcorn,” Noble agrees. As soon as he sets Trip down he’s running off with his brother, leaving the two of us to scramble quickly behind.

Our pace doesn’t seem to slow down for the rest of the day as Noble and I chase the boys around the property — moonbounces again, the petting zoo, a near-meltdown from Trip at the face painting booth, the big hayride that Cav insists on even though the sound effects that come from the bedsheet ghosts in the trees along the route freak him out. But the boys are still going strong and it’s my and Noble’s own exhaustion that finally makes us herd them to the expansive pile of choose-your-own pumpkins so we can accomplish that task and head back to the cabin for the night.

“There’s a million pumpkins!” Cav exclaims, his brown eyes wide in the waning fall sunlight. “I’m gonna get the biggest one.”

“Better get to work then, dude,” Noble tells him. “Climb on up there, go ahead.”

While Cav navigates his way to the middle of the pumpkin pile, Trip doesn’t make it past the first pumpkins he sees. “I want this one!” He shouts every time he tries to pick up a nice average-sized squash before it proves too heavy for him and he moves on to another one. I trail behind him, paying no attention to Noble and Cav climbing away in search of the biggest pumpkin they can find — which turns out to be a mistake.

“Daddy! Dad, me and Papa found the best pumpkin! It’s huuuuge!”

It takes me a second to follow Cav’s voice and then I scoop up Trip around his middle, tearing him away from his latest pumpkin of choice to reach his brother in the middle of the pile.

Noble stands on one foot with the other propped on their prize like he’s conquered it. “Look, Daddy, Cav found the one.”

“Oh he did, huh?” I pass Trip to Noble and circle to evaluate the pumpkin from all angles. “That’s a really big pumpkin, bud. I don’t know if we can even get it out of this pile to buy it.”

“Yes we can!” Cav insists. “I’ll help—” he squats, braced against nearby pumpkins, and tries to grip but his little arms barely reach halfway around this beast. He grunts and carries on with genuine effort but after an amusing moment he gives up with a sigh. “I think you gotta get it, Dad.”

“Cav, buddy, I don’t think…”

“Please?” He whines. “I want this one!”

“He wants this one!” Noble echoes.

“Then you pick it up,” I mutter at him under my breath.

Noble bounces Trip in the air and catches him. “My hands are full. It’s all you, boss.”

My dumbass husband — of course he’s over here acting like we can totally bring this thing home, he can’t say no to these kids. And I’m left to bring everyone back down to earth.

“It’s just too big—”

“Just use your muscles, Dad!” Cav insists, and dammit, I find myself humoring him too.

“Oh, geez. Alright, I’ll try. Watch out.”

Crouching, I act like I’m finding a good grip. But this thing must weigh sixty or seventy pounds, and with other pumpkins piled around it there’s no easy way for me to heave it out of here.

“I’m sorry, Cav,” I announce. “You’re going to have to choose another one. Something normal sized.”

“No, this one!”

“We can’t—”

“Please? Papa said!”

“Papa said we’d ask Daddy, and Daddy says no,” Noble interjects.

God, except for Trip losing it a little at the feeling of a paintbrush on his face — a disaster that was easily averted — we’ve had such a good day. But now Cav is nearing tantrum territory and I’m not sure anything short of this impossible pumpkin will make him happy.

I reach over and take Trip from Noble. “This is your mess,” I tell him over Cav’s indignant whining. “Come on Trip, we’ll go find you a little pumpkin.”

By now Cav has plopped his butt on a nearby pumpkin, arms crossed, facing away from us so we can’t see his classic grumpy pout. I let Trip loose with a bunch of other toddlers at an outer pile of smaller pumpkins, keeping one eye on him and one on Noble as he crouches next to Cav. Before long they get up and start perusing again. Cav still doesn’t look thrilled, but at least he seems to be moving on.

Trip is still jumping happily from small pumpkin to small pumpkin when Cav and Noble find us, a nice, reasonable, medium-sized pumpkin in Noble’s arms. “We’ve reached an agreement,” he announces. “Instead of one giant pumpkin — one medium pumpkin and one small pumpkin.”

“Yeah because medium plus small is like a big one,” Cav explains.

“Oh-kay,” I agree. “Sounds like a plan. Go ahead and pick a little one so we can go back to the cabin and watch a movie before bed.”

“Trip, you gotta go get your medium pumpkin so you have a medium one and a small one,” I hear Cav say.

“I think Trip is happy with his little one,” Noble calls before I can ask him exactly how many pumpkins we’ll be buying today.

“Couldn’t stick to the plan, could you?” I muse.

Balancing Cav’s pumpkin on one hip, he finds my hand with his free one and squeezes. “Hey, okay, the kid’s hardly seen a real pumpkin before, much less carved one—”

“I know, I know. I’m glad they have you around to make sure they get those experiences. We just need to, you know, be a little realistic.”

“And I’m glad we’ve got you to be realistic for us,” he murmurs. “Because fuck, I was not excited about carrying that beast home up three flights of stairs—”

“Shut up, you would’ve made me do it anyway,” I scoff.

“I would’ve… helped…”

“Liar.”

“I would have!” He insists.

“You’re a dirty liar,” I shoot back.

“I don’t know about liar, but that dirty part—”

“Oh god,” I cackle, leaning into him before I take the pumpkin he’s been holding. “Keep it in your pants, huh? And go help your son. That pumpkin’s about to knock him over.”

***

“Are they down?”

“Didn’t wake up at all,” Noble assures me. “Perfect transfers. I’m magical. Like a witch.”

“Oh good. Here you go.” I push a drink towards him across the counter and he takes it as he returns to the couch to turn off the Disney movie that the boys just fell asleep watching.

“This is okay,” he muses.

“Just okay? Is it not strong enough?” I take another inquisitorial sip of my own margarita.

“No, no, it’s pretty good. It’s just not, like, Ben’s Paloma good.”

I let out an incredulous laugh as I realize he’s just teasing. “Oh yeah? So you wish Ben and Scott hadn’t bailed, hmm?”

“It’d be fun if they were here,” he says. “We could play poker and I’d have some actual competition—”

“Oh!” I call out, a hand coming up to my chest like he’s wounded me. “They make better drinks, they play better cards…”

“They’d’ve let us bring home that huge pumpkin,” Noble adds.

“You’re as bad as the kids,” I tell him.

“It was an awesome pumpkin!”

“Well you know what—” I finish straightening up the small kitchen and grab my drink to join him. “I’m glad they’re not here.”

“That so?”

“Mhmm. Because if they were here, and we were playing poker and trying to carve some huge-ass pumpkin, then we’d be pretty busy.”

“Busy?” He stretches back against the couch cushions, propping one arm across the top as his gaze wanders openly down my grey t-shirt.

“Busy,” I repeat. “Too busy for this—”

Leaving my drink on the rustic end table, I smoothly drop to his lap, my knees settling on either side. With my hands free I’m quickly all over him, fingers turning his head up to meet my lips while my opposite palm slides down between us.

“Mmm, god, I’m never too busy for this.”

I shut him up with a hard, insistent kiss. He wastes no time reaching under my t-shirt, his hands a cold contrast against my skin after holding his icy glass, pushing the fabric up my torso until I duck out of it. As soon as I do, he steals the leverage I have over him and swoops me sideways, following quickly on top of me where I land on my back. My fists are in his hair, squeezing hard so I don’t make too much noise as he works biting kisses down to my shoulder.

Just as his touch trails lower, a suspicious noise from down the hallway stops us both short.

“I thought you said they were asl—”

“They were,” he insists. “Shh.”

Listening again, we’re met with only silence.

“Must've been the wind,” I conclude.

He pushes his weight off of me, sitting up on his knees. “Still. Does the bedroom door lock…?”

“I didn’t notice.”

“Let’s hope.”

I reach a hand up and he grabs my wrist, heaving me up off the couch. “What if it doesn’t?” I wonder.

“Well then.” He slides a hand into the waistband of my gym shorts, where he snaps the elastic against my skin. “I guess you’ll just have to stay quiet, won’t you?”

#Jamie x noble #joble #joble fluff #theyre such cute dads and i’m Into it #this whole thing is pretty disgusting though but I do not apologize

[petersshirts]

Chasing After You (1) | tom holland

pairing: tom holland x reader

summary: uni doesn’t seem so hard, until your ex-boyfriend shows up right in front of you, turning your life in a whirlwind of emotions

warnings: lots of swearing they are Britains for gods’ sake

words: 1,5 k

A/N: so... here it is, my new series!! it’s still in the making and i don’t know yet how many there will be, but i hope you like it, please let me know what you think!

„I hate this,“ you mumbled and closed the door of your apartment with a loud thud, gaining the attention of your roommate Sky in the kitchen. „Hey boo, you okay?“ You heard your best friend yell and you just sighed, throwing off your shoes and coat to get to her.

„Just been a shitty day.“ Sky pouted and closed the fridge to give you a hug. You pulled her closer, sighing at the contact. It was good to know that you were not alone - that you could manage Uni and everything around it.

It had been only two weeks since you started your first year at Uni in Cambridge, and it had been hard. Sure, you knew that Uni was not easy, but the professors were horrible and mean, causing you a lot of stress. And you were not famous for handling stress very well. Sky pulled back to check if you cried, but you just shook your head, showing her that you were okay. That you would be okay.

„It’s all gonna be fine, Y/N. You’re gonna get used to it. But before that, I’ve been invited to a house party tonight!!“ You rolled your eyes at the excitement of your best friend, knowing how this evening would go. Sure, you loved going out but Sky always drank way too much and you always had to bring her home around 11 pm, crashing all the fun you had.

„I’m only going f you don’t drink five shots in the first two minutes!“ You reminded her and she just giggled. She was so childish but you loved her for it. With her, everything was easy and fun and you were so happy that you had decided to move into an apartment together at the start of the term.

For the next few hours, you ordered pizza and got yourself ready for the party. Sky even managed to put you into one of her dresses - when you stood in front of the mirror you didn’t even recognise yourself. Your friend had curled your hair and put some make-up on your face, turning you from a sleep-deprived student into a night owl. Without her, you would most likely lie in your bed and only come out for food and pee-breaks.

After a bottle of wine, the two of you left your apartment and walked to the address where the house party was at. It was early spring and you cursed yourself for only bringing a light jacket like Sky had told you. You look better with that; well, your whole body was freezing. You finally arrived at the apartment complex a few minutes later and Sky rang the doorbell and you got buzzed in immediately. When you arrived at the apartment on the third floor, there were people everywhere. The music was pounding and you grimaced, knowing that you would get a headache in the morning from the loud beats.

Sky grabbed your hand and pulled you through the masses of people into the kitchen. While she found a bottle of vodka, you searched for two shot glasses. You wouldn’t survive this night without more alcohol in your system. The two of you drank your shots, a disgusted look on your face.

The next two hours were spent with more alcohol and dancing on the small dance floor to the latest charts. It felt good to finally let loose and just dance with your best friend for a while. But after a while, your legs got heavy and you just mumbled a „Be right back,“ and walked to the bathroom to get some time to breathe.

When you closed the bathroom door behind you, you sighed and watched the girl in the mirror. Your makeup was slightly smudged from all the dancing but other than that, you still looked presentable. But on the inside, you were exhausted and just wanted to go home and sleep. The alcohol always made you tired but there was no way that Sky would actually leave with you right now. When it came to going out, you were polar opposites - while she could stay out until 5 in the morning, you were ready to go to bed after a few shots at midnight.

And since you had promised her to stay with her tonight, you sighed and opened the bathroom again, revealing the same scene you had just left. On your way back to the place where you had left Sky, you tried to make her head out in the crowd. But when you saw a familiar blonde quiff only a few meters above you and those blue eyes, you immediately stopped. The guy was gone but you just stood there, trying to find out if your mind was tricking you.

Suddenly, memories came flooding back and you turned around and ran out of the apartment, in desperate need of some fresh air. You made it out to the hall and slid down the wall, trying to catch your breath. You remembered that hair and those blue eyes. When he was near, his friend was never far away. Your breathing was going fast and you hid your face in your hands, all the emotions came flooding back.

„Y/N is that you??“ You looked up to look into those familiar blue eyes that you hadn’t seen for a whole year. You hadn’t seen him in such a long time and even though he wasn’t the one that caused you anxiety, he was too close for your own liking. But he had never done anything wrong to you, it had been his best friend. But with that, you wanted to stay away from these two boys as far as possible.

„Uhm, hi Harrison, long time no see.“ You mumbled out to your old friend, not sure how to talk to him. Harrison walked up to you, a big smile on his lips, completely surprised that you were here. You on the other side wished that you were somewhere else. One year ago, you tried to put your past behind you. It had worked pretty well so far, but seeing Harrison here was not helping. His best mate couldn’t be that far.

„How have you been?? I haven’t seen you since Tom and you…“ When he said those words you jumped up, your mind spinning. You were not ready to talk about your ex-boyfriend, the boy that broke your heart. The only boy that you had ever loved and just left without an explanation. You hated him and you were damned if you would see him again.

„I’m actually here to have fun and not talk about this right now. I’m sorry, I can’t…“ While you were talking, you stumbled back to the open entrance of the apartment to find Sky. You didn’t care anymore what you had promised - all you wanted was to go home, eat Ben & Jerrys and try to forget about this whole experience. But when you bumped into a broad chest and looked up to meet his chocolate brown eyes, everything came crashing down.

All the walls that you had built up over the last year to show everyone that you were completely fine, they faded to nothing when he realised who was standing in front of him. Oh hell no. He was as beautiful as you remembered - he was still athletic but not too much muscle, his unruly brow twitching. But it seemed like his complete attitude had shifted - gone was the sweet guy that you had met at school two and a half years ago and was replaced by some fuckboy you absolutely hated. Your heart wrenched when he stood there because this wasn’t love - no this was hate for what he had done to you.

And that’s why your legs started moving, back into the apartment to find Sky and get the hell out of here. You found her in the living room where she was grinding on a stranger. You pulled her arm to get her attention, tears running down your face. Sky mumbled something when you tried to gain her attention, but when she finally looked into your face to see your desperation, she jumped into gear. Without questioning what was going on, she pulled away from the guy, grabbed your hand and walked outside without looking back.

Luckily, To and Harrison were gone when you stepped out of the apartment, trying to gain your breath. Sky looked back at you to make sure that you were safe to walk home and you just nodded, showing her that you would be fine. Someday.

The two of you walked home in quiet, both of you following your own thoughts. Your brain was running wild, trying to figure out how he was in the same city as you, far from home. Clearly, he was a student here too and there was no way that you wouldn’t see him again. You started crying again, unable to control your emotions. Why was life so unfair? Why couldn’t he just stay out of your life like he had done for the last year??

Uni was tough but Tom fucking Holland just made it just three times worse.

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[andaleduardo]

59 for the prompt thing!!

59. “I could punch you right now.”

Thank you so much for send this in, I’ve had such a fun time writing it! And I’m sorry it’s coming so late, I hope it was worth the wait :) I know nothing about sports btw so I blame google for incorrect information

Summary: Eddie and Richie have a combat sports’ class together.

Important: Despite the events in this that may give off vibes of Eddie being abusive or having really agressive episodes, I promise my intentions weren’t those, he doesn’t really want to hurt anyone. He’s that feisty firecracker that gets angry easily and wants to punch things, not people! He does punch Richie, yes, but I think under these circumstances, anyone would have done the same if they has just met the person. It just happens that they’re into each other here.

Throw me a punch, I’ll fallfor you (AO3)

“Alright, everyone!” The instructor,Mike, has a sturdy voice to go along with his impressive strong body.

Eddie used to feel intimated (if notflustered) at the sight of his trainer back at the beginning of his classeswith the guy. Now, he knows it’s more of a façade, a slightly less usual sideof Mike to impose respect upon his students.

Eddie got into combat sports as away of learning how to defend himself. He could have chosen to takeself-defence classes only, sure, but he is also very much into sports. In thisspecific class, he is taught a variety of fighting techniques from many sports,like boxing, wrestling or martial arts. This way he can take out his daily rageand inner unhealthy anger while learning useful moves to take over any guytaller than him. Which is pretty much all of them.

He also has some anger issues, asper say. It got to the point where Eddie couldn’t take the subway anymore toget to work because he’d have to physically restrain himself from punchingevery jerk who kept pushing him aggressively. The height doesn’t’ help, alwaysa factor that screams ‘I can’t fight you back so you can disrespect me!’.

Well, Eddie had enough of that. Nowit’s been over a year since he signed himself up for fighting classes, and hislooks have changed, enough that no one really wants to mess up with him when he’swearing more revealing clothing. The kick boxing lessons, mostly, shaped himwell, along with all the other physical activity he indulges in, like running.His legs, arms and shoulders definitely show off his abilities and serve has awarning.

Too bad he chose to wear a bigsweater and sweatpants today.

“So, today’s class will be a littledifferent.” Mike keeps projecting his voice around the big gym room. His back isfacing the mirrored wall and, once again, Eddie can’t help but ogle up his darkskin reflecting the white lights in that perfect, distracting manner. He canfeel his face a little hot, despite having yet to start sweating.

“You might be wondering who theother half of today’s class is.”

With that statement, Eddie’sattention finally falls on the other side of the room. He stares at the other eightpeople that fill up the gym besides his own classmates. By his side, he hearsBeverly whispering.

“I’ve never seen them around here.”

Ben quietly adds “Me neither.”

Eddie thinks about saying somethingback, but his tongue gets tied at the last second when his eyes fall on a newsubject of observation.

There’s a guy that looks like aleaf, way easy to knock down if someone blows air his way.His pale skin contrasts harshly with the darkness of his hair. He’s staring intentlyat the floor, clearly not listening to a thing Mike is saying, and he lookskind of dumb standing there in his dark purple hoodie and dark grey shortspaired up with checkerboard socks.

Eddie’s first coherent thought is thathe looks like an idiot. The second one is ‘Theprofile view certainly makes up for that…’ as he shamelessly checks him outsilently, eyes trailing over the slight arch of the man’s nose.

Completely distracted, Eddie doesn’tpay attention to Mike’s voice.

“To my right side,” The trainergestures a hand to Eddie’s side of the room, where he stands along with his twofriends and the few other familiar faces he sees on a weekly basis. “I have oneof my advanced classes.”

Never tearing his deadpan stare awayfrom the stranger on the other side of the room, Eddie watches as the lankyman’s eyes carelessly lift from the floor and travel the unknown faces of Eddie’sgroup.

‘Fuck,he’s even more attractive from the front.’ It’sa dumb thought, Eddie has a lot of those.

He fails to react quickly enough andhis breath hitches when their eyes meet. But god forbid if Eddie so much asflinched. With his cold, neutral eyes, Eddie glares right back and waits forthe other guy to look away. But that doesn’t happen. The man’s uninterestedposture changes, his back straightens, and his lips lift up in a teasing smirk.

‘Whothe fuck is this guy?’

Eddie feels himself get defensive (andred) alarmingly fast. Is he being mocked?

“To my left, I introduce you ournewest students. We’ve had a handful of classes so far, which, I’m sad toinform, makes you beginners.”

A few chuckles emerge from bothgroups, but for Eddie and the stranger, a staring contest seems more importantat the moment.

Eddie squares up a little, unsuccessfullytries to make himself look taller (it’s a big issue for him, okay?) and liftsup one eyebrow while stuffing both hands on the front pocket of his sweater.

If the way he’s being stared at isn’tenough to keep him on the edge and annoyed, the fucker on the other side of theroom decides to drag his eyes up and down Eddie’s body and lick his lips,somehow keeping the smirk plastered on his face, which only makes him lookextremely stupid and desperate. But holy shit, if that doesn’t heat up Eddie’sinsides and almost makes him lose his unbothered disguise.

So, definitely not being mocked.

He hears Bev’s quiet giggles by hisside but doesn’t give them a second thought.

Mike claps his hands to gather upeveryone’s attention. The sound makes Eddie jolt up, surprised, and uncertainlyturn to face his instructor with an inevitable frown. He’s probably blushing,too, but it’s not like he can help it. His jaw twitches with frustration as hetries to focus.

“Now, as you can see, I’ve gatheredyou all here, beginners and advanced.” Mike continues his explanations whilewalking mindlessly from side to side with both hands behind his back. “I’vedecided to pair you up for learning purposes. I’m sure my advanced studentswill be able to teach you something today.” He speaks directly to the beginnersbefore turning to face Eddie’s side. “And I’m sure you guys will be able torecognise your own past mistakes on our newbies.”

Eddie nods in response, trying hard toignore the holes forming on the side of his face from the jerk’s consistentstaring from the other side of the room.

“We’ll be working in pairs, I’llgive you more directions as we go but the goal today is for you to learn fromeach other. You can start by warming up. And make a few introductions whileyou’re at it. Get to know your enemy a little better.”

Great, socializing is just whatEddie signed up for with this gym membership.

As usual, he follows Beverly and Bento their left corner near the mirrors to do casual muscle warm ups. He forceshimself to keep his back to the rest of the class, or he knows he’ll be lookingplaces he shouldn’t. But turns out his friends, or so he thought they were, arein a mood to tease him. After a few minutes of torso, shoulder and armrotations and stretches, Beverly elbows his side, knocking the air out ofEddie’s chest.

“What was that for?” He hisses ather. Beverly simply nods her head past Eddie’s back, and he can almost guesswhat she’s going to say.

“Looks like you’ve got yourself anadmirer.”

Eddie fights against the urge to takea look. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t, cowboy. He hasn’tstopped staring at your ass since you turned around.” She rolls her eyes at himbefore resuming her exercises. Eddie flips her the bird discreetly and triesnot to feel too invaded now that he knows he’s being checked out.

Ben also steals a glance behindEddie’s back, and by this point Eddie’s more than ready to snap at both of themto quit being so obvious. Instead, he shuts the urge down and starts with hiswrist stretches.

“I feel kind of bad for him,though.” Ben speaks with a sided soft smile. Eddie drops both arms and sighs,throwing his head back.

“Yeah.” Bev agrees. “He looks like he’dpay you to crush his head with your thighs anytime.”

“Bev!”Eddie screeches, feeling the blood pump up to his ears. “You can’t just saystuff like that when we’re in public!” He keeps his angry ranting at her, sheonly laughs back. Eddie notices Ben’s face pale up at something behind his back,and he stops talking abruptly, assuming that the stranger was coming up theirway. Eddie stifles up a groan, but once he hears Mike’s, now softer, voiceapproaching them, he feels his shoulders relax.

“Hi, Mike!” Bev greets himcheerfully.

“Hey guys, how are you doing?”

Truth is, Mike is more than theirtrainer. They’ve all become close friends during the past year of weeklymeetings. That doesn’t mean Eddie can’t think Mike’s hot, because he is, and heknows that his friends think the same. Mike knows it, too, and they all have agood laugh out of it. It’s just how they work.

“Eddie has a crush.”

Ben, for fuck’s sake, Ben says it and throws an arm aroundEddie’s shoulders. He feels betrayed.

“No,I fucking do not. Don’t listen to them, Mike.” He pushes Ben’s arm away, stillvery much making sure not to turn around and have any possible eye contact withthe subject of their conversation.

With a warm laugh, Mike crosses hisarms. “And who, may I ask, is this not-a-crush?”

Eddie mumbles and curses under hisbreath while pinching the bridge of his nose. He waits for either of his‘awful’ friends to answer for him, but everyone just stares at him expectantly.So, Eddie sighs in defeat.

“See the stick-figure guy with thepurple sweater?” He whispers through his frown. Mike pretends to look at all ofhis students for a while, then nods. Eddie continues. “He was just staring, okay? With a creepy smirk thattotally never in a million years wouldwork on me.” He rushes through the end while bending down to grab his knee up,keeping a perfect balance and feeling the pull on his thigh.

“Are you sure?” Mike asks with fakewondering. “He sort of fits your type.”

“That’s it, I’m quitting. You guysare the worst friends.”

Mike laughs and winks at him. “It’sa shame I’m the best teacher, though.” And starts walking away.

Oh no.

“Don’t you dare do anything. Mike!” Eddiewhispers sharply and stares at Mike’s back as he walks away. He feels Bev’sweight on his shoulder.

“Sounds like today’s class will beinteresting for you. Have fun.” And off she goes, skipping in her steps tointroduce herself to one of the new students.

After the individual warm ups areover with, Mike starts by ordering everyone to form pairs. Ben gives Eddie asmall pat on the back before making his way to a neat looking guy who seems tohave been dragged here against his own will. Eddie stays behind, feelingchildish for not being able to act like a normal adult and go up to anyone. It’slike he’s gone back in time too many years, to the days when he’d be left forlast on gym class. He decides to stride over to the wire-wheeled cart thatstores the softest, smallest, beginner’s appropriate gloves and pads.

From the corner of his eye, he apprehensivelywatches Mike approach the weird/hot/idiot stranger. They chat for a total of 4seconds, before pale guy is looking around and, once more, locking eyes withEddie. Eddie tries, to no avail, to pretend like he wasn’t caught staring bysnapping his head back to the cart and retrieving the cleanest looking pair ofgloves and pads.

He also pretends not to see the manapproaching, faking surprise when the stranger invades his personal space.

“Hey, darlin. Looks like we’repartners.” He says smoothly.

Eddie struggles with the grip on theboxing gear, close to letting it fall, and reluctantly turns his neck to starein disbelief at the man.

Okay, he’s taller than expected.

“I think I need to agree tothat first. And ‘darling’ is not a great way to convince me.” Eddieemphasizes the nickname.

“What’d you rather have me callyou?” The guy leans his weight on the cart. With his free hand, Eddie rushesto hold the cart in place before it starts to slowly roll away. “Sporty?Cutie? I could go with Master, Sir, Boss. You’re in charge of me, today.” Hewinks, then, and Eddie lets go of the cart, letting it stride away under theman’s weight. He tries not to look too entertained when the guy gets startledby the movement and struggles to keep himself upright without falling.

“How about Eddie? It’s myname.” Eddie starts walking away, already knowing he’ll be followed, so hekeeps talking. “And I’m not the boss of you, let’s try and keep thisprofessional and act like the adults we are, shall we?” What a moral,Eddie.

“You sure sound a little bossy,Eds.” The nameless man smirks. “Whatever you say, though. I’mRichie.” Richie, apparently, holds out his hand for Eddie to shake.Instead, all Eddie does is to toss the gloves on Richie’s outstretched handmore forcefully than needed.

“It’s Eddie.” He says before slidinghis own hands on the pads’ holders. “So, I assume you’ve already done thesekind of pair exercises?” He asks once Richie’s got the gloves on properly.

“Guess you could say I’m an expert.”Richie replies and flexes one arm over his shoulder, even though it’scompletely submerged by the baggy sweater.

Eddie lifts up one eyebrow.

“Impressive. Why don’t you proveit?” He immediately squares up and holds both pads firmly between their bodies.Richie seems slightly surprised by the suggestive tone and upfront posture, buthe quickly recovers and gets into position.

If he’s going to be a tease, Eddiecan be one back.

They’re at this for a while, butEddie isn’t being the nicest. Richie is doing exactly what he’s supposed to,punching the pads. He’s got a good technique, not that Eddie would ever tellhim that, so he tries to push limits by screaming at him between hits. Thingslike:

“Is that all you got?”

“C’mon, that’s a joke.”

“Harder! You’re not even trying!”

And when 10 minutes pass by, Richieis sweating, frustrated and a little huffy. His good natured smirks are gone.In the beginning, he tried to be a good sport, started by throwing off hiscrude jokes and stupid comments, but he gave that up once he got riled up byEddie’s demands.

Of course, Eddie is beaming.

“You’re not the worst, but clearlystill an amateur.” Eddie says while untying the pads of his hands. Hisbreathing is jagged, but Richie’s way worse. “Here, let me show you.” He holdshis hand out, and so, Richie tosses him the gloves, clearly annoyed with havinghis butt kicked only by words.

Once they’ve both traded positions,Eddie wastes no time in throwing a heavy fist right into Richie’s unpreparedgrip. He stumbles backwards on his feet when his arm is pushed back against hisown mid-section, taking the air out of his chest with a little ‘oof’.

Eddie can see the exact momentRichie starts to get really bothered.His nostrils flare, shoulders square back, and his jaw tenses up. If he could,Eddie would smile victoriously.

With a fake neutral expression thatbegs to be cracked into laughs, Eddie asks him. “Are you sure you can take it?You seem like you’re struggling.”

Richie scoffsand gets in position. “Yeah, right. Just get on with it.”

‘Show-off.’ Richiethinks.

Eddie keepsthrowing punch after punch with extra unneeded strength, Richie keepsstruggling to keep himself upright but never once backs down. By the end of theirnext 10 minute round, Richie’s neck veins are prominent with the need ofproving his worth, and droplets of sweat are dotting his face. Eddie isn’t farbehind.

Not too longafter this, Mike lets everyone have a break and leads the class into anothergym room with padded, softer floor. Eddie is familiar with it.

They’re doingfree combat. In other words, submission grappling moves. It makes him a littlenervous.

Eddie turns toRichie to ask him if he has ever even done something like this, but he findsthat Richie is no longer by his side. Eddie looks around in confusion beforefinding him ahead, chatting with the clean boy he saw early. The expression inRichie’s face is one between a frown and a smirk, as if he is conflicted withwhatever they were talking, while he slides his hands through the new pair ofgloves needed for their next practice.

Eddie has afeeling that Richie can be talking about him, and not in a good way. It’s justthe type of person Eddie is, anxiety catches him in social environments.

‘Chill out, he barely knows you.’

Eddieapproaches him slowly, not wanting to invade anyone’s conversation but ratherjust wanting to go get his own pair of gloves, stored in another cart nearRichie and the other boy. Before he can get close enough, Richie and his friendsplit up and he retrieves a second pair of gloves from the cart, striding isway to Eddie. He passes him the equipment without a word.

Eddie puts themon and murmurs a ‘thanks’ under his breath.

“Have youhad any class here, yet?” Eddie asks, genuinely wondering.

“We had acouple by now. Why?”

“Nothing.Just wasn’t sure how much of a beginner Mike meant.”

Both of them maketheir way to a free spot.

“Mike? Ourtrainer?” Richie asks, a smile finally making a reappearance. Eddie nods.“Didn’t know you were on the first name basis with the guy.”

Eddie stares athim for a moment, Richie is fixing up the felt straps around his wrists and hissmile seems a little different. Their tired breaths fill in the seconds ofsilence.

“Yeah,we’re pretty close friends.”

Richiechuckles. “Oh, guess it makes sense, now.”

Eddie looks athim quizzically. “What do you mean?”

Richie looks upfrom his hands and shrugs. “He told me you wanted to be paired up with metoday.”

“He what, now?” There’s a short circuit inEddie’s brain. It must be a pretty scary sight because Richie’s chuckles diedown and his smile falls.

“Hey now,no need to get mad, Eds. T'was just a joke, right? And it’s not that bad towork with me, admit it.” He asks, there’s a tint of something seriousbehind his playful tone.

Eddie scoffsbut contains his frustration. “I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at him. Hecould have simply pair us up, for fuck’s sake.”

“So, you’renot against it?”

Eddie eyes himsideways. “I never said that.” Richie clicks his tongue in responseand Eddie decides it’s best to change topics. “Ready to get your asskicked?”

“You know,that’s fine material for a sex joke but I’m passing it up ‘cause my ego’s waytoo hurt.”

“Ah, Isee. Finally admitting I’m better?”

“You know,Eds.” Richie ignores when Eddie corrects the nickname. “You really shouldn’tthink so high of yourself. But in the meantime, teach me some moves, will ya?”

The tensionbetween them seems to slip way after that, both of them falling into a fit ofgiggles before resuming their posture to be productive.

Eddie spendsthe next 20 minutes recreating the techniques he’s learnt that Richie hasn’t.They move systematically according to Eddie’s voice, and both of them areequally struggling with the amount of touch there’s involved. Eddie pushes itout of his mind, since he needs to set a plan for each grappling position andmanually move Richie’s limbs and body in the right places. Richie, however, isat his mercy. Never knowing where’s he’s going to be touched next, a millionspots catching fire from Eddie’s hands.

Each techniquestarts the same. Eddie will be the one in the advantaged side and manoeuvreRichie’s body until he’s got him into the submissive stance. Whether that’swith his arms pinned in unnatural angles, legs kicked out from under his body,or laying on the floor in various uncomfortable manners.

Eddie isn’tacting like a show-off, this time. He’s genuinely trying to be a good exampleand teacher so that Richie can gather up as much information as possible.

“Fuck.” Richiegroans after being thrown on the floor, yet another time. Eddie steps out fromabove him, leaving Richie laying there with his nose planted on the cushionedfloor and both arms falling heavily to his sides. “You keep kicking my buttover and over and I can’t even complain cause it’s hot.”

Eddie kicks hisside then, not too strongly. “Stop putting innuendos on everything.”

Richie turnshis head, so his cheek is planted on the floor instead, and he looks up atEddie. “But think about it! I could flirt my attacker into submission.”

Already fearingwhat’s about to come, Eddie runs a gloved hand under his nose. “I don’t thinkthat’s a thing.”

“That’sactually really clever, what the fuck.” Richie jumps on his feet and getscloser. Eddie gives a couple steps back. “Don’t run away from me.” He makesgrabby hands. “C’mon, attack me.” He talks happily.

Eddie lifts upone eyebrow, but he’s weak. He gets behind Richie and throws an arm over histhroat. Richie’s hands come up to grab at his forearm and he starts to do whatEddie showed him before, which was to bend down and try to swing Eddie’s bodyover his own, or at least twist his arm. But Eddie chickens out of it andcowardly kicks Richie’s legs from behind when he starts crouching, causingRichie to fall forward on his face and bring Eddie along with him. He ends upsliding over Richie’s back, slamming his own face onto the ground a secondlater.

Under him,Richie groans in pain and Eddie stumbles to crawl away from him. He gets to hisknees in front of Richie and watches him rubbing at his nose. “Why didn’t youlet go of my arm, you idiot?” Eddie snapped.

“Cause that’snot what you’re supposed to do when you’re being fucking attacked!” His voiceis nasally. “You didn’t mention the kick in the legs when you taught me,before.”

“Must have missedthat part.” He says nonchalantly. A pained grin appears on Richie’s face, Eddiefeels alarmed. “What?”

“Nothing.” Richieshrugs and gets up, holding a hand out for Eddie. Slightly suspicious, Eddie holdson to Richie’s wrist to get up as well, but Richie tugs him up to his feet and pullsuntil their chests are touching. He leans closer to Eddie’s ear.

“’Fraid you can’tbeat me if I start talking?” Eddie doesn’t try to move away, he’s in shock,pointedly ignoring meeting Richie’s eyes. Instead, he stares down at hisjawline. “I can think of a couple ways you can shut me up.”

Eddie thinksabout asking if any of those ways involves a good kick to the head, instead,his mouth hangs open like a fish and he can only feel grateful that Richie can’ttake a good look at his face in this position. Of course, Richie ruins thoseplans when he pulls back a little, just enough so that they can look at eachother. He is still grabbing Eddie’s wrist strongly, and there’s an unreadable expressionon his face.

“You’resupposed to attack me, remember?” He says under his breath. Neither of them seemsto care where they are.

With an embarrassedsnarl, Eddie snaps out of it. He throws the technique out of the way anddecides to kneel Richie in the balls. But Richie moves just as quickly as Eddie’sknee lifts up, his free hand coming between their bodies to grab under Eddie’s thighand snapping it over to the side, leaving Eddie with only one feet on the floor,and, sadly true, his legs forced open.

Eddie is fumingwith embarrassment, he sees red everywhere and if he doesn’t hit something inthe next seconds, he’s going to throw Richie out of the window instead. And totop it all, Richie starts cracking up right there, in front of him. Tiny,mocking chuckles unsuccessfully covered by his lips squeezed shut.

Eddie doesn’tthink, just lifts up his free arm and aims for Richie’s stupid mouth, but oncemore and to his great displeasure, Richie’s eyes grow big and he lets go of Eddie’sleg, hand coming up quickly and gripping Eddie’s other wrist back.

Finally withboth feet on the ground, Eddie steps back and fights against Richie’s hard gripon his wrists.

“Holy shit.”Richie says, slightly excited eyes looking into Eddie’s red, red face. “You’reso bothered by my touch, baby.” Richie doesn’t seem to know when to stop. Bythis point, Eddie is mumbling hateful insults under his breath, along with somepreoccupying threats aimed at Richie’s crotch’s well-being. “Or was it my words,sweetheart?” Richie grins, using all his strength to lead Eddie’s arms behindthe his back.

For a moment,Eddie tries to calm himself and stops squirming against Richie’s hold, lets himpull his arms behind his back until Richie is holding both his wrists with onlyone hand. The other hand comes up, traces a mismatched pattern over Eddie’scovered arm. They space between their bodies is closed again.

Taking a bigbreath and letting Richie believe he’s got him cornered, Eddie watches his dumb,victorious smile.

Don’t do it, Eddie. Be professional. He’s just a jerk,it’s not worth it.

He doesn’t evenknow what he’s restraining himself from doing. Either throwing Richie’s body onto the floor or kissing him. He decides which is it pretty quickly.

Richie’s handsare bigger, that’s why he wraps one around both of Eddie’s wrists so easily,although he’s not doing the best job at using strength. The other finishes itstrail and stops at the back of Eddies neck, just resting there.

Then, Richieopens his imbecile mouth. “I could punch you right now, you know, baby?”

If time was slower,Eddie would have taken a second to roll his eyes and tell him. Great, you’ve ruined it. Instead, all hedoes is to, quite strongly, tear his right wrist out of Richie’s hold andfinally doing what he was prevented from before. His fist collides with Richie’scheek.

Richie’s handscome up to his cheek immediately as he stumbles back a few steps. Eddie staresat him, hand throbbing slightly and feeling guilty almost instantly. The shockon Richie’s face is quite funny, but not at the moment.

“You punchedme.” Richie mumbles while is hands cover his red cheek.

Fuck.

Through quavering,quick breaths, Eddie says. “You were embarrassing me in front of everyone.”Richie just keeps gaping at him in shock. His gloved hands fall at his sides.Eddie flinches at the sight of his flush red skin. That’s going to bruisebadly. “Shit, I’m sorry. Are you okay?” He steps closer to Richie, but feels loston what to do, so he just stands there with the worry dripping from his voice.

“Holy shit.” Richie’s eyes him dreamily.Eddie’s face contorts into confusion. “You punched me…”

“Okay… did- didI damage your brain, somehow?”

“I don’t thinkI’ve ever felt this attracted to anyone before…” Richie smiles cheekily atEddie but hisses instantly when he feels it pulling on his bruising cheekbone. “Fuck,you didn’t spare me at all.” He passes his trembling gloved fingers over hisface.

Eddie gives alook around the rest of the class, no one is paying them much attention, noteven Mike. He turns back to Richie, not thinking too much before speaking. “If youpromise to cut it out with the crude flirting, I’ll go with you to grab someice on the infirmary section.”

Richie perks upat that. “Will you kiss it better?” Eddie groans and turns to walk away. “Okay,okay, I’m sorry.” He stumbles to keep up with Eddie.

“Wait for me inthe locker room.”

Richie eyes himsuspiciously. “You can’t make it easy for me to hit on you, Eds.”

Eddie stops walkingand looks embarrassed at him. “I’m just… going to give Mike an excuse… I’ll meetyou in a second, okay?”

Richie smilesagain despite the stinging in his cheek. He smiles a lot in general.

Eddie watcheshim striding towards the cart to put his gloves away, and then quickly leavingthe room.

When Eddie approachesMike he puts on a fake annoyed frown at the sight of his friend and trainersmirking at him knowingly.

“No, no problemat all. Off you go, Eddie.” He crosses his arms and laughs when Eddie flips himoff discreetly. He watches Eddie’s back as he stomps away. “I’ll make sure to mixbeginners and advanced more times!”

Eddie gives himthe bird over his head this time and heads off to the locker room, not giving adamn if he’s taking the gloves with him. Some things matter more, like an attractiveidiot in pain to which he has special treatment to give.

Perma tag list: @constantreaderfool @mrs-vh

#reddie #fanfic #prompt #request #me #writing #ao3 #it 2017 #it book #it fandom #losers club #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #mike hanlon #beverly marsh #ben hanscom #stanley uris #if you squint #punch #gym #combat sport

[charmingpplincardigans]

For the quick drabble prompts: tua + defenestration

Look at me, changing it up! This one is about Diego! Someone stop me from writing a whole fifteen thousand words about Diego and Eudora. I don’t have time for it, but I do have the same deep need to give Eudora good things as I do to give good things to Klaus and Dave. She deserves them!!

…

Diego thought he might be dead.

One minute he had been throwing himself at a guy twice his size in a fourth floor apartment and the next minute he had been thrown. He didn’t remember the fall. His mind had, blessedly, chosen the moment he crossed the threshold of the window to black out. His body remembered though, and every muscle and bone screamed at him in protest as he sat up and checked his head for blood.

There were lights flashing. He couldn’t tell if they were inside or outside of his head.

“Hey! Hey, you!” It was a familiar voice.

Diego groaned and pulled himself to his knees. Outside of his head then.

“No, stay down.”

A hand hit his shoulder and he looked up to see Eudor—no, she hated when he called her that on duty—Detective Patch standing over him. Her brow was furrowed and her lips were set in a thin line. 

“You’re a lucky son of a bitch,” she said.

“It’s good to see you too, detective.” He tried to stand up and she pushed harder on his shoulder to keep him down. “Are you gonna cuff me, or do you just like seeing me down here?”

Her lip quirked, “Maybe I do, a little, but no. It needs to look like I’m explaining to you in excruciating detail how stupid you are and how stupidly lucky you are that the woman who called 911 identified you as the person who attacked her attacker instead of just some random asshole with knives who broke into her apartment for no reason.”

“You know I never do anything without a reason, Detective.”

“Please don’t make me actually give you the list of reasons you’re stupid, Diego,” she said. “It really is very long, and you already know most of it.”

“Most?” he asked, giving her what he hoped was more of a smile than a grimace. His face hurt as much as the rest of him and he wasn’t sure he had complete control over it.

“I’ve been keeping some for a rainy day,” she said. “God, Diego, we have got to stop meeting like this.”

“You won’t meet me any other way, and I miss your charming personality.”

“No, I won’t” she said. “And we both know it’s not my charm you miss.”

“It’s a little of what I miss,” he said rolling his shoulders and stretching so he could brush her hip with his hand.

She released his shoulder and smacked him in the back of the head. “Do you need help up?”

“As you can tell,” he said, planting his foot on the cement in front of him and grunting against the pain. He noticed suddenly that he and the cement were damp. Had it been raining when he went inside? Or had he been out longer than he thought? “I’m perfectly capable of standing on my own.”

He tried to push himself up, faltered and fell hard on his knee, let out a colorful string of curses, and then tried again. This time he managed to get himself mostly to his feet and he landed heavy against Eudora’s side as he toppled. She grunted under his weight and pushed him off her.

When he turned to look at her the whole scene slid into focus finally. There were three patrol cars at the end of the alley, lights going. Four uniforms were milling around and studying what he assumed was his path down to the ground which included a broken fire escape railing and an awning with a hole in it.

Eudora crossed her arms and tilted her head. She was waiting to see what he would do next

She was pretty in any light, but the combination of the orange-sulfur lights of the alley and the blue-white-red flashing off the cars managed to make her look like she was made of stained glass: glowing from within, colorful, fragile, shot through with lead bars in spite of the rest. She was just a woman—no special powers, no maniacal father who made her train from the time she could walk, no inbred sense of superiority. She was fragile, and for that reason alone she could be the bravest person he knew.  There were other reasons of course, and her fragility was not what made him love her. It was the way she worked against it at every turn, how she chose over and over to be better than those around her.

“Diego?” she asked, reaching for his face. Concern lurked at the edge of her voice. “Do you have a concussion?”

He couldn’t believe she had ever chosen to accept him into her life, no matter how briefly, that she still chose every day not to write him off entirely as the asshole he was. It almost made him want to be a better man.

Then another realization hit him and, against his better judgment, Diego started to laugh, which was unfortunate because how much it fucking hurt.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she hissed. She thought a moment, then pulled her hand back and said, “No, I don’t want to know.”

“It’s, it’s de-,” he started, knowing he wouldn’t be able to finish. “De-defen-de.” He laughed harder, holding his hands against his ribs to try and keep them from moving too much.

“Defense?” she said. “That’s what the woman told us.”

“No, no. I can’t say it. The window.” He pointed up.

Diego had never been able to say the word defenestration. Usually his stutter only manifested under pressure, and as such was a sensitive subject, but for this particular word there was a more involved and touch toughened history. They had all learned at eleven that for some reason, that word just would not work in his mouth no matter how much he visualized or practiced. He didn’t figure he’d ever need it, not really. Not after Klaus and Ben had spent a full month ruthlessly mocking him over it by dropping it into conversations he was in. They had even created a List Of Ways To Kill Diego, which was just fourteen different forms of defenestration. It had been creative, but Mom found it and put an end to the whole thing.

When he could catch his breath he said, “I’m glad I didn’t die.”

He was thinking he was glad he didn’t die that way especially because, even though it had been more than a decade since all of that and they’d lost Ben in the meantime, he was sure Klaus would remember and make sure that his cause of death was on his grave marker. Or rather, probably his grave marker would read: DIEGO HARGREEVES – D-DE-DE-DEFEN-SSS. Because Klaus was a fucking asshole.

Eudora’s face softened. “I’m glad you didn’t die too, you jerk.”

“Would you miss me?” he asked.

“I would consider it a real pleasure to be able to get to miss you,” she said. “But apparently you’re the only one around here with any luck at all.”  

(Send me a word + fandom/character and I’ll write you a quick thing.)

#the umbrella academy #diego hargreeves #eudora patch #Anonymous #tua tales

[wykart]

Fix Her

Can be read as a standalone thing about Five in the apocalypse

Chapter 3 of a fic about Five and Vanya and all the tragedy surrounding them (chapter 1) (chapter 2) (chapter 3)

Chapter Summary: Five traverses the ruins of the world, and comes upon Vanya’s autobiography. To him, it’s only been a few days – to her, she’s been waiting sixteen years. 

read here on ao3 or continue chapter 3 under the cut

2 days after (5989)

At first, he’d thought that his powers just needed to recharge, that if he could just calm himself down, he would be able to concentrate hard enough to go backwards through time to when he left off. He got tired from spacial jumping all the time - too many in quick succession set the mind reeling, ears ringing, body wracked and quivering over aching muscles. He didn’t feel like that now. If jumping through time really was such a step up from what he was used to, maybe those three, quick, restless bursts had drained him completely. He tried by the hour, on the hour as best as he could tell. Every time, he felt the pull begin, twisted his grip under the fabric of reality and grasped for it as it slipped away from him again, and again. The energy was there, it still existed within him, but no matter how hard he concentrated he couldn’t bring it forth. It was if here was some invisible force holding him back, like the whole world had been drained of that blue light that threaded in between every moment. It was desolate, in more ways than one. Though the buildings burned and the bodies charred, there was something greater missing, it had been hollowed out and scraped away, leaving nothing. In short, his powers didn’t work here. Even the simplest spatial jumps were impossible for him now. He was powerless - and perhaps worst of all - he was alone.

He kept on with the idea that this was some elaborate lesson from his father to show him the consequences of disobedience. It wouldn’t be the cruelest thing he’d ever done. It was a delusion, but it kept him wondering for those first hours, first days.

If this really was the future, then getting back wouldn’t be the end of it. He’d have sixteen years to change the course of time, if such things really were set in flux. Their father had always told them that they were destined to save the world, but five had always assumed that the notion was just an incentive to keep them loyal and invested in their training, willing to throw everything unique about themselves away in the name of the world and their duty to it. The fact that he may have been right, perhaps that the reason they’d failed was that five wasn’t with them, it cast all his earlier actions like those of a spoilt, stupid child. He couldn’t bare it.

It had been sixteen years for the rest of the world since he disappeared, going by the newspaper he found. It couldn’t have been much longer than that - the bodies that hadn’t been burnt were still fresh and yet to rot, and the fires were still raging like they’d only recently been lit. The thought that he’d arrived only moments later than whatever cataclysmic it had been had torn through the population - it was almost absurdly lucky, if the situation at hand could be called such.

Even though the Vanya of the present was likely dead, in his mind Five imagined her back at the academy, thirteen years old, waiting for him to come home. He had to get back to her. None of the others understood her, nor did they understand him - they needed each other. He couldn’t just leave her alone in that place. He had to keep trying.

14 days after (6001)

He found them, and the sight of every one of them lying there brought a unique strain of grief and uncanny misery that cut itself into his heart like a tally mark. He kept preparing himself for how it would feel to see her lying there - Vanya - all grown up and lifeless beneath the rubble. She wasn’t with the others, but that was no surprise, she was never included by the rest of them, even when the world was ending, it seemed. She could be anywhere. She could be any one of the blackened, unrecognisable husks that littered the streets, or buried completely in some unreachable place, or perhaps she was lying dead in another city, another country even. She’d always wanted to escape and live far away from the academy, only thing was, they were meant to have escaped together.

He remembered the time they’d spent pent up in the attic or the library, running through the streets at night or sitting at the diner - he’d assured her that he’d escape to the future, somewhere he’d so naively assumed would be better than the times in which he’d been raised. He’d conjured up images of towering skyscrapers and cosmos-conquering spaceships - thousands of robots just like mom, a world that had progressed to heal the suffering that existed in the early 21st century. Here he was, sixteen years on in the ruins. He’d gotten his wish.

He saw her face in a smashed shop window, a discount price tag slapped across her cheek - Vanya. He ran over to the ruins of the bookshop, reaching for the cover instinctively, pushing his hands through the jagged shards of glass that pulled his skin ragged. She was there on the back as well, he could recognise those dark, sullen eyes, the nervous smile. She’d gotten rid of her bangs - something that had been an intrinsic part of her identity since as long as Five could remember. Growing it out must have been somewhat therapeutic - cutting away the pain of the past, finally escaping her father’s machinations - but alone. Everything would be there - in that book - all the secret worries she’d confided in him when they were young - and all the secrets she had to keep locked away after he wasn’t there to listen. His heart skipped a beat when he skimmed the table of contents and came upon a chapter titled - ‘the disappearance of Number Five.” It was there, in print, as if it was set in stone. Perhaps it was.

Out of everyone at the academy - Number Five was the only one that I would call a friend. Sure, some of them were more tolerant of me than the others - maybe even exchanged a laugh or a kind word - but by the time we were nine, Five and I were inseparable - that was, until, he disappeared. We’d often fantasised about running away together, somewhere far away where our father couldn’t find us. Although Sir Reginald took a particular liking to Five’s insatiable curiosity to pursue knowledge and power, he could not abide his more impulsive, self-righteous tendencies. In short, he couldn’t keep Five under control, couldn’t reel in his need to grow and test his limits beyond our fathers ideal pace. Five realised, far earlier than the rest of them, that our father wasn’t concerned with our true potential as people, but with how he could use our power to meet his own ends. One day, I guess he just couldn’t take it. I tried to dissuade him, but not hard enough. He was out the door before I could say a word - and he never came back. To this day I wonder if he really got lost in time, or if he simply ran away without me - the way we always planned. I kept up hope longer than you might expect - I didn’t have much else to be hopeful for - but over the years that hope dwindled away to nothing. Sometimes I still think about him - whether he’s dead or lost or living the dream. I hope it’s the latter - despite my sorrow at the thought of him leaving me behind. There was already so much tragedy in our young lives, it would be a small mercy to learn that he had escaped all that - but I fear that I, and the rest of the world, will die not knowing. For me, back at the academy, I was alone again - and Five’s disappearance was only the first in a line of tragedies, that set the fabric of the umbrella academy unravelling.

The passage brought tears to his eyes. Even after all the time they spent together, Vanya had still been unable to shake the idea that Five would grow tired of her, find her boring, ordinary, and leave her alone again. He wished he could tell her the truth.

There was more, in the book, more horrible revelations. Ben, dead, at seventeen. The book didn’t go into detail - it didn’t need to - just the idea of it happening was too much to bare. Of all of them – it was Ben, Five’s self-confessed second-favourite of the bunch – that had to die so young. He was smart – smarter than the others, and the two of them would often read together or listen to Vanya play. Ben was kind, but he was quiet too, and he liked to put on a brave face in front of the favourite three. He and Klaus, however, got along best of all. Both of them had a power that did them far more harm than good, something the others didn’t understand, and the raw, chaotic energy of Klaus was complimented by Ben’s more intelligent and reserved demeanour. He had been a voice of reason, to tell Klaus when to stop running up and down the stairs, drawing on the walls, and setting things on fire. It seemed to have been Klaus that suffered the most after Ben was gone, and he had been the first to leave.

Five read as Vanya recounted how she had watched as every single one of their siblings torn up and discarded by their father, and by the very powers that made them special. Luther - ever loyal, still taking orders from his father. Diego - desperate to relive his time at the academy, now as number one, the hero. Allison - manipulating her way into the public spotlight and living a life of lies. Klaus - driven to addiction and squalor just to keep the terrors at bay. And Ben... well, their father had always pushed them too hard. He’d forced Five to teleport in quick succession, over increasing distances - until he could barely breathe, until his face was pale and cold with sweat and he passed out on the carpet. He’d lock Klaus in the mausoleum for hours on end - where the most twisted and terrifying spirits lurked, desperate to use him, until the boy was screaming and clawing at his eyes and ears. He always had Luther and Diego at each others throats, whispering praise or criticism into the ears of one or the other - never good enough, never strong enough. And Allison, he told her that her power was a gift - an advantage over the world to be used in self service - and look at what she’d become. And, of course, Vanya. Without Five there to remind her of the truth, she’d spent her teenage years locked away in that house, a shameful secret, the greatest disappointment of them all. Their power - or lack thereof - may have been what destroyed them in essence, but it was their father that was the catalyst. He was the one who always insisted that they were special, that their power was who they were, it was everything, and straying from their destiny, wanting more, was simply a failure to be strong.

And thats why, when he found a newspaper dated just over a week before the end of the world, he was delighted. Their father had died, and his siblings had enjoyed eight glorious days with that horrible burden lifted.

He stowed the book and the magazine into the wagon he’d been trailing behind him these past few days – stocked up with whatever supplies he could scrounge up from the ruins. That, and a mannequin he’d found that hadn’t been melted or crushed into dust. It gave him a strange sort of relief to see a human face – even a painted one – that wasn’t lifeless and covered in blood. While the rest of them rotted to bones or charred to ash – this face would remain, smiling forever. So he’d take her with him, a reminder of all the company he’d lost.

By this time, the initial shock and misery of the situation had all but worn off – and he was formulating a plan. He would search the world for survivors, for some clue as to what killed the human race, and, as he went, learn as much as he could about his powers and how to manipulate them. His father’s journal would be a good place to start – but he had been unable to find it among the ruins. He remembered his father mentioning a more theoretical approach to manipulating his powers. When he was young, Reginald would give him sets of coordinates as a marker when traversing long distances – only trouble was – they had been three-dimensional directions – now he was working with four. He wished he had his old maths and physics textbooks from the academy – but the ruins of the world’s libraries would have to do. He’d always fancied himself a bit of a genius – much to his sibling’s annoyance. This was to be his greatest challenge yet.

Wagon in hand, brushing the dust and ash from his blazer – he set down the cracked, rubble-littered road, off towards whatever future he could make for himself, and, if all went well, back to Vanya.

#fanfic #tua #the umbrella academy #fanfiction #vanya hargreeves #five hargreeves #number five #fix her #my writing #ao3

[lassofthelake]

The Loyalty of the Chargers

It was raining. Of course, it was raining. The Chargers trudged along the Storm Coast, scattering rocks and pebbles under their heavy boots. The air was heavy with the mist and the scent of the ocean. The Iron Bull wrinkled his nose in distaste. Certainly, he was well acquainted with the salty semi-foul scent that the ocean carried from his years in Seheron but he wasn’t anymore fond of it for it’s familiarity.

“Chief!” Krem shouted from where he’d taken up the back of the company. Bull paused and turned to face his second while the rest of his Chargers trudged by without so much as a pause. Cremisius Aclassi looked miserable. His hair, which was shaved close on the sides and longer on top was plastered against his forehead and as he marched forward to meet Bull, it didn’t escape the Qunari man that he tripped and lost his footing more than once. “Are you sure this is the right place?” Krem demanded, irritation clear in his voice. “Where are the damned Venatori?”

Another wave crashed against the shore, sending another salty wet spray over the company. A few members groaned, but the Bull remained unaffected. “Oh, come on Krem. You’re not having fun?”

The shorter man scowled deeply. “No, I’m not,” he ground out.

Bull laughed. “The intel is good,” he assured, and then, rethinking, “besides, we’re waiting for that Herald of Andraste or what ever to show up, right?”

Krem gave Bull a look and asked, “Do you really think she’d come herself? I thought they’d just send an agent.”

Bull shrugged, his great shoulders heaving with the motion. “Not sure, but from the reports I’ve read, she seems like the type to take care of her own affairs.”

Krem still didn’t seem convinced. “Didn’t your Ben-Hassrath buddies say she was some kind of noble before the conclave blew and the sky ripped open? Unusual trait in a blue blood, I’d say,” he argued.

The former Tevene had a fair point - the nobility did like to send others to do their dirty work. The fact that the Chargers were so profitable, not to mention popular, was testament to that. In any case, it didn’t matter to Bull. So long as the Inquisition showed and he got to make his offer, he didn’t care if it was the Herald or a squire. “Maybe she got bored,” Bull supplied with a noncommittal shrug.

Krem looked like he wanted to disagree, but zeroing in on a spot over his second’s shoulder, the large horned man spotted a figure as it emerged from the brush, holding a staff and a book floating before him. He had just enough time to push Krem away and dive the opposite direction before the little patch of the shore he and Krem had occupied lit up with reddish-orange runes and promptly burst into flames. Bull regained his footing, quickly drawing his great battleaxe from his back. “Chargers, behind!” he roared before charging forward towards the hooded man and cleaving through his chest before he could cast another spell.

Battle cries rang out as the rest of the Chargers drew their weapons and more Venatori appeared, as if from thin air.

A crackle was Bull’s only warning before pain radiated across his back and made him spasm as electric currents wracked his body. His knees his the silt and pebbles beneath him hard as he fought to regain control over his still-tensed muscles. The site where the spell had hit sizzled and burned, a whole fresh level of hell.

Dalish wasn’t too far away and he could see her throwing spell after spell. Bull couldn’t see Rocky, but he heard a boom that spoke of the dwaven man’s involvement in the fray. Skinner was probably having the time of her life.

Bull rejoined the fight with another roar, beheading the closest Venatori like he was slicing through butter on a hot day. He cut through another Venatori in quick succession before getting locked in combat with an maul wielding warrior. He was a big motherfucker, almost as big as Iron Bull himself, and he’d clearly been trained to use that massive war hammer. It felt as if the fight might go on forever and Bull’s arms were beginning to ache with the effort it took to block his opponent’s blows when a little burst of light whizzed past and hit the man square in his chest, knocking him off kilter. Bull saw the opportunity and made quick work of him, cleaving through his chest plate with great effort.

Sweat ran down his brow, silt and blood were sliding down his arms and legs with the mist and between the lightning spell and the fight with the big guy, he was starting to hurt badly. He’d just delivered a pommel strike to his current foe when the charger next to him go down with a cry of pain, an arrow lodged in her shoulder.

Bull swore, wheeling around to find the archer and take them out. His eye traced what he thought was the most likely flight path of the arrow and he did manage to find an archer perched high up on a ledge. At least, he did for a moment, before the archer jerked forward and fell off the ledge, revealing the form of a young woman who had clearly just kicked him. Her companions began to file down the ledge but she, seemingly without pause, jumped and slid down the steep, rocky slide. She glided down the slope with ease, looking the very picture of grace until the slope deposited her on the ground and she pitched forward with the momentum. However, she was unfazed and was right back on her feet a second later, drawing an ax that seemed way to huge for her to wield. There was no doubt in Bull’s mind that this was the Herald, though she was different than Bull had pictured from the Ben-Hassrath reports. He’d pictured someone older, less petite and definitely not as gorgeous as this woman was, but he wasn’t about to complain.

Once she and her companions joined, the rest of the Venatori were made short work of. She was a talented warrior as was the other woman who’d accompanied her and her archer friend carried a most unusual crossbow that fired explosives in addition to arrows. Rocky was going to have questions.

The woman planted the head of her ax in the silt and rested her hands over the pommel, looking at Bull with an expectant twinkle in her eyes. Inwardly, Iron Bull smirked, but before he approached her, he turned to check in with Krem. No one had died, thankfully, so he gave quick instructions to let the throat cutters take over.

Her pink lips split in a pretty smile. “Hi-ya,” she greeted.

“So, you’re with the Inquisition, huh?” he asked, to which she gave a little nod. “Glad you could make it. Come on, have a seat. Drinks are coming.”

With one hand, she freed her ax from where she’d planted it in the ground and then secured it onto her back before coming to stand before him. “Nicely done,” she complimented brightly. “I hear you’re looking for work?”

So it was right down to business, huh? Bull liked that in a woman. “I am! Not before my drink, though.” He turned and found a stone to sit on and she lightly folded herself onto a stone across from him. Before he could finish the conversation, though, Krem approached again, announcing that the throat cutters had done their job. “Already? Have ‘em check again,” Bull ordered. “I don’t want any of those Tevinter bastards getting away. No offense, Krem,” he tacked on with a chuckle, easily falling back into banter with his lieutenant.

Krem was quick with a rejoinder, as per usual, replying, “None taken. Least a bastard knows who his mother was. Puts him one up on you Qunari, right?”

It didn’t escape Bull’s notice that the Herald watched this display with a grin, clearly enjoying their teasing. Krem left to go see that their captain’s orders were followed and Bull refocused his attentions on the gleeful young lady. She couldn’t be more than twenty-five which made her skill all the more impressive, not to mention the fact that she’d pretty much already secured herself a place in history. “So...” he broached, “You’ve seen us fight. We’re expensive, but we’re worth it... and I’m sure the Inquisition can afford us.”

Her noble upbringing was reflected in the way she didn’t so much as bat an eyelash whenever price was mentioned if not in everything else about her. There was the unwavering consequence of someone who had never had to worry about their next meal. Instead, she pressed on, saying. “The Chargers seem like an excellent company.”

“They are,” Bull asserted, his voice full of confidence. “But you’re not just getting the boys. You’re getting me. You need a front line body guard. I’m your man. Whatever it is - demons, dragons? The bigger, the better.” As he was speaking he stood to stand in front of her, dwarfing her tiny frame and he didn’t miss the way her violet eyes followed his movements. She was still smiling when she stepped back in order to let him pass.

“There’s one other thing...” he admitted. He then told her about his role in the Ben-Hassrath. She didn’t seem too perturbed when he’d finished - more surprised, at first, than anything. Her eyebrows had rose and she’d asked a few questions - and he couldn’t blame her since he’d outright admitted that he was going to be “spying” on her. Bull was watching her closely as he spoke and he couldn’t miss the intelligence that shown in her eyes as she watch him as well. She even caught him out, pointing out that he’d known her spymaster was female with a sharp little jab.

In the end, she just asked that he run the reports by Leliana before sending them past, and demand with which he was to comply. They shook hands, his hand dwarfing her’s so much it was almost comical.

“Krem, tell the Chargers to keep drinking on the road. The Chargers just got hired!” The Qunari man announced with pride.

“What about the casks, chief?” Krem asked. “We just opened them up. With axes.”

“Find some way to seal them,” Bull decreed, too pleased by the agreement to let the loss of some ale get to him. “You’re Tevinter right? Try using blood magic.”

Krem sagged, but got to work, trying to salvage some of the casks. Bull turned to her and remembered something. “Oh, yeah. I meant to ask you - what’s your name? Everything about you just turned up as Lady Trevelyan.”

Her smile dimpled her cheeks and her tone was sweet. “It’s Evangeline but if you want to keep the remainders of those finger, I suggest calling me Evy.”

Bull was taken aback by the playful threat for a moment before his own grin spread across his face. “I hope you don’t mind “boss”, boss.”

“Also acceptable,” she agreed.

Right at that moment, The Iron Bull felt a kinship with the Herald. Here they both were on the stormy, rainy coast, covered in grime and blood and uniting against a common enemy. Not only did his Chargers belonged to the Inquisition and he’d promised himself to her. He felt an intense surge of loyalty as he locked eyes with her and she laughed. Evy was so joyous and bright and he wanted to protect those qualities. He could understand why she was the talk of the continent now. He understood why so many followed her.

From that day forward, the Chargers held loyalty to the Inquisition and he was loyal to her.

@thedasnet

#Dragon Age #DA:I #thedasnet #Iron Bull #inquistor x iron bull #competition piece #Bull's chargers #organizations

[james-bucky-barnackle]

Space Between Us (Part 2)

Synopsis: Set in an alternate universe, Y/N and Bucky have been best friends since forever, but sometimes being friends is just not enough. What happens when all of a sudden, your closeness suddenly gets separated by a space you two created yourselves because you were both afraid to face the music?

~ PART 1 ~

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2700

A/N: This is straight up a romcom, also I’m sorry for posting an update on this fic late - and suddenly writing other stuff lmao. This part also centers around y/n but it’s setting up something interesting for the next

2: You become him: 2 years apart

It’s been 2 years since I’ve got settled in and a month since Bucky last visited. He brought pizza and we spent the whole afternoon binge-watching Kitchen Nightmares. It sounds weird when I think about it, but I can’t explain how it happened. Everything was back to normal, well not normal-normal but enough to seem like it was better than the situation we were under months before. Here we were throwing crusts at the screen laughing like idiots whenever one of the restaurant owners would get slammed hard by Ramsay. We were like how we always were, maybe moving out turned out to be a good decision. Not seeing each other every day helped a lot with piecing our friendship back together at least for my side of things – I mean I was the only one trapped in a one-sided love affair. It felt healthy, Bucky came by once every other month and when he couldn’t he’d call me on the phone and tell me about his life before inquiring about mine. Most people would think I’m stupid for still hanging out with him, but even I couldn’t understand how I can’t simply drop him. The world may shake to the extreme and he’ll still be rooted on the ground ready to hold me, and I would be too. This is progress, you know? We’re not living in the same place anymore, we don’t see each other every day, and I’m slowly getting used to living on my own without him, with him just being on the sidelines. He’s just part of the bigger picture now, and not the whole thing. He probably made it easier for me, I knew how much he resisted asking me to let him stay over whenever he’d drop by or how he’d always try to keep our phone calls at a minimum. He gave me space for something he didn’t even know the reason to why I needed it.

The loft looks a lot like a home now, I’ve gotten way too much pillows for the bed and the couch that they’re pretty much scattered around the place, I wouldn’t be surprised if there was one at the bathroom, it’s disgusting but that’s an accurate representation of just how much pillows I’ve got. One of the two bedrooms I have, I’ve made into an office, with a huge cork board in front of my table. I like facing the wall and not the door, I get scared very easily so, it’s best I don’t face that direction. I’ve pasted photos of me and well – Bucky. I’ve got a couple of stupid awards pinned on the wall too, I should get frames for those. I look at the clock and it says eleven.

“Shit!”, I say scurrying as I pull my coat out and look for my keys before heading out and closing the door behind me. New day, new restaurant, new thing to write about. It’s a long story how I came to be a food critic but it’s something I enjoy and get by. Being a writer, I’ve had so many jobs where I wrote things I didn’t give a damn about, and when I started writing about cuisine (which is still a word I can’t take seriously), and everyone believing what I wrote on paper, I raised my eyebrows, gave it a once over, and said “this is it, this is what I’m doing”, well until I grow tired of it, but it’s been 6 years and I’m still at it. Talk about my being devoted. I get out of the building and a black range rover starts blasting its horn.

“Alright! Alright, I’m here. I didn’t hear my alarm go off okay?”, I say as I get on the passenger’s seat. I turn behind me and throw my bag, hearing clutter clash inside of it.

“If it weren’t for the free food I get whenever I join you in your escapades, I would’ve been long gone with the handsome valet guy from the hotel next door”, George grins at me. I peek at the window to see who he was talking about, the guy working at the valet, with brown hair and tanned skin, muscles obviously taken care of, seeing as how it was nearly popping out his uniform.

“Gosh, don’t you think it’s too early for some sexy role play? He’s clearly lost George, I wouldn’t trust him with my car”, raising my eyebrows, a chuckle escaping from my mouth. That guy was clearly not a valet. George hits the gas and we we’re on our way to Casa Manila, a Philippine restaurant in Manhattan.

I’ve gotten 10 hours of sleep, but I’m still tired. George is telling me a story about how his neighbor Matilda couldn’t smell his disdain for her, seeing as how she obviously had the hots for him. If I hadn’t met him during an office party with Ben from accounting and his mouth all over his neck, I’d have the hots for him too, I mean, his English accent would’ve sent my undies flying. “Well maybe if you start bringing boys to the apartment, she’d take a hint”. I say as I put my shades on and drift to sleep.

A few minutes later, we were at the reception of the restaurant, where the statuesque blonde host quickly ushered us to our seat when she found out who I was. The interior was a tropical paradise, traditional in a sense, but a huge contrast from the concrete jungle outside. Light beige covered the walls, weaved chairs were present, never thought they would look like a million bucks but I guess they made it work. I always thought they’d look cheap and itchy but I was just in awe of how the light shines through the huge windows onto the tables and chairs looking bright and welcoming.

“Of course, they’d give you the corner to the window”, George says as he follows to where the host pulls out a chair for me and a young lad introducing himself as our server for tonight. I grin and shake my head of course, they did. They always placed me in a place where I’d feel important but really because it’s in perfect view from the kitchen door windows to see my reaction. I thanked the host and take my time to check the menu and in minutes have chosen today’s target. Eyeing George, he’s found his too. And the waiter excuses himself to fetch our order.

The kitchen was buzzing more than ever, the waiter wrote “VIP” on the ticket in blue ink. George has been used to watching me smile when I make people nervous, or uncomfortable. It was one of my many talents. Let me tell you about George. He’s too tall for his own good, has brown wavy hair, the I-don’t-care-but-I-really-do-care type of hair, the cool guy hair, great hair. He has brown eyes, gentle eyes that would make anyone melt, he’s lean and has a long face like a Disney prince would, with dimples of course, but has got short patience. And an hour after we met at the office party I mentioned earlier, he put his arm on my shoulder loudly stating I was his ride and that we were going home with absolute conviction, after finding out Ben from accounting was married and had two kids. And I ended up driving him to the convenience store he led me to only to wait for him as he came out with a box of beer and some chips and we went straight to his place, ran up to the rooftop and stayed up all night talking about our love an hatred for men. He was home away from home. I knew then we’d be inseparable. As the appetizers we ordered came in, I felt eyes on us, and it’s not from the staff.

“I’m surprised you haven’t melted yet, that man has been glancing this way before we even looked at the menu”, He smirks placing his hand under his chin raising his right brow.

I steal a look and he’s gorgeous, he looks like he was cut straight out a Calvin Klein ad. He’s wearing an off-white suit, looking like a Ken doll with his blue eyes, blond hair and a jaw that could cut seamlessly through butter.

“Well?”, George interrupts my quick inspection. I didn’t even realize I was biting my lip, I roll my eyes at George and give him a devilish grin.

“Maybe for dessert”

“Very brave, Y/N.”

I shrug my shoulders and he laughs as I put my hand on the back of my neck to turn my head towards his direction, and when he realizes I’ve caught him looking, he shyly smiles and looks away at the instant.

-

“I’m going to write it as fresh, creative and confident,” the waiter hides the huge grin on his face with the tray he’s held up. He puts his hand behind his back and signals a thumb up, which makes the onlookers in the kitchen run wild. I wipe any food residue from my lips as George drinks his champagne. Today’s work was over, we had the rest of the day to ourselves, easy. Just as I put the napkin down, my phone buzzes, I look to see who it is, and its him. My eyes grow wide at George, a smile on my lips, as he shook his head at me. It’s a text message, he wants me to call when I’ve got the time he wants to tell me something important and that he’s excited about it, oh I have the time.

“Who’s got you smiling like you’re on cloud nine?” George inquires.

“It’s Bucky! My Bucky. Told me he’s in town and has something important to tell me, looks like he’s pretty excited about it” I suddenly feel stupid calling him mine.

“Remind me who?” I was ready for a little story time.

“Bucky, my best friend. We met during college and were inseparable ever since. We even lived together for three years,” I was trying to make George remember, surely I’ve told him about Bucky, right? He was still skeptical “You know, we dated once, but that really never went good for the both of us, figured we’d just be better off as friends.” I gaze into the distance and remember a funny conversation me and Bucky had when we were college students on spring break.

“We had this crazy pact when we were in college, that when we’re 28 and still unmarried, we’d just marry each other. It’s the craziest thing but we were young and stupid.” It was one of the things that you could forget but just couldn’t, it was tucked away in a happy little box of memories. George’s eyebrows perk up. I squint my eyes, what is he thinking?

“Aren’t you turning 28 in 3 weeks?” shoot, that’s true. I lift my eyebrows up to inquire where he’s getting at. “He’s in town, he’s got something important to tell you, he’s excited about it?” I wave him off, it’s probably something else, right? It’s gotta be, but I mentally kick myself for even considering the idea. It’s impossible.

“If you don’t want anything to do with him, there’s still someone who looks interested." George quickly perks his eyebrows up at me motioning to a direction where I looked to see the gorgeous blond onlooker from earlier walking to our table. I shrug back at him as he chuckles.

-

When I finally get back to my apartment, I pace back and forth not knowing if it was time to call Bucky back. Am I ready to call him? We’ve had conversations on the phone before, why am I feeling nervous? He’s even been here last month, so why even feel conscious about a phone call? He could be calling about a raise, or a trip… or an early birthday greeting? Fucking George, I hate him for putting the idea into my head. Why did I even let it slip out? I found myself dialing his number, biting my nail as I contemplate if I should hit call. Oh! fuck it, what do I have to lose? I’ve already lost him, I’m too old for this. He picks it up on the first ring, my heart stops, I’m smiling like an idiot.

“Hey, Y/N! I’ve missed you,” his voice made my knees buckle.

“I’m good, what about you? What’s the thing you want to tell me so badly?”

“That’s great!” I’m sitting on my bed, my heart is beating fast, what could it be? “I’ve met someone, Y/N. She’s great she’s amazing, I’m thinking of asking her to marry me, and I can’t do this without you.” I fall, a thud on the floor deafening, I almost throw my phone.

“You okay?” he asks. No, I’m not.

“Y-yeah!” I say as I get up, touching the back of my head that has hit the floor, luckily there was a pillow to catch my fall. “Bucky, don’t you think that’s way too fast? How do I not know about this? Why haven’t you told me anything about you meeting anybody?” I was being honest, there was no time to be pretending to be happy when I was clearly dumbfounded.

“I wanted to be sure before I told my best gal, I didn’t want her to be like the others,” like the others? What’s that supposed to mean? I was walking around my room hugging a throw pillow tight.

“W-when are y-you gonna propose?”

“Two weeks from now, I’ve gotta get this right, doll. I know you can help me.” There he goes calling me that, my heart is sinking, this is exactly like a chick flick.

“You’ve been with her for like what? A week?”

He laughs. “Two months, are you not even happy for me?” you bet I’m not, I’m not happy for myself either. Something resurfaces in my head, I lied, I clearly haven’t moved on yet.

“I am! I just, don’t you think it’s too soon? Two months Bucky? Gosh that’s a little fast” I laugh nervously.

“Hey,” he pauses, “I need you. You’re my best friend, why do I feel like you’re turning on me?” I sigh, I’m gonna have to act cool this hot minute.

“Bucky I’m happy for you, I was just surprised,” quickly changing the mood before it turned sour. “My best guy wants to get married, who wouldn’t be ecstatic about that?” I know I’m not. I put on my best cheery voice, maybe a little too much.

“Yes! I knew I can count on you!” joy clear in his voice, “I can’t wait for you to meet her, we’ve reserved a table at that Italian restaurant you love. I’ll see you at 7!” And the line goes static. His excitement won over my tenseness. I couldn’t believe what just happened. Is this a joke?

-

“This is insane George! Two months? How could anyone want to marry someone they’ve been with for that amount of time? Marriage is commitment George, that’s some serious stuff.”

“Bucky’s been at my tail for years! Years! And now this girl comes along and he suddenly wants to marry her?" It was true, even when we’ve decided to end things romantically between us, Bucky would still flirt and act like everything was normal, we slept on the same bed for Pete’s sake! I suddenly wished I didn’t get over my head and moved out, it could’ve been me he’s proposing to. My hair was all over the place, but I didn’t mind, I liked it naturally looking like I was straight out of bed, I put makeup on meticulously, not knowing who my opponent was. I was blabbering away, lighting a cigar as George continued driving. I was speaking way to fast, paranoia clear in my voice.

“I’m going to get him back, George, I’ve got to. I’ll do whatever it takes to get him back.” I say as I let a puff of smoke out my lips.

George laughs, he likes me when I panic, “Oh I bet you will.”

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[noodlecupcakes]

Prisoner - Kylo Ren/Cora

A smutty one shot for @sherrybaby14 2k writing challenge. My prompt was bondage. My face claim for Cora is Elizabeth Olsen

Warnings: Violence, Blood, Blood kink, Virginity kink, Innocence kink, Bondage, Force choking, Choking, Smut, Sex, Rough sex, Fingering, Oral, Leather glove kink, Non con elements, Loss of virginity, Begging, Dirty talk, Bodily fluids. 

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Prisoner

Kylo’s P.O.V

I awaited the arrival of the Jedi where I would then interrogate her, see if she held any useful knowledge and then dispose of her. General Hux was aware of my plans and demanded to be present during the interrogation. He would only get in the way in my opinion. He got in the way a lot of the time. Phasma entered the meeting room and handed me the Jedi’s saber, which I attached to my belt. “Is she unharmed like I asked?” I questioned her. “Yes sir. General Hux is interrogating her now.” “What?!”

Phasma stood her ground. The man was making it increasingly difficult to work with him. I left the meeting room, heading straight for the interrogation chambers. The two troopers outside her cell let me pass and I headed inside. Hux was stood to the side, watching as some of his men beat her. They stopped when they noticed my presence. “About time Ren, sorry we started without you,” Hux said. “Out.” “I beg your pardon.” “Out! I specifically gave instructions that she was not be harmed. Or can you not even understand simple instructions!” Hux’s men had left the room by now, afraid of what I might do to them. Hux glared at me, balling his fists. I could kill him with no more than a thought and he knew it. “Don’t let your personal interests get in the way Ren. I shall inform the Supreme Leader of her arrival,” he said in a threatening tone.

Hux left the room, the door closing behind him. I turned to Cora, the start of a black eye was forming and her lip was split. She seemed calm however. “Your friend seems nice,” she said sarcastically. She hadn’t changed much clearly. Still cocky and sarcastic. And look where it got her now. Into trouble. Her appearance remained mostly the same, green eyes, long black hair with her fringe plastered to her forehead from sweat, thin yet deceiving frame. I knew under those robes would be the faint lines of muscle across her stomach. I'd desired her when we were teenagers and I still desired her even now.

“A few ground rules before the interrogation starts. You take that mask off and I won’t be calling you Kylo Ren, I’ll be calling you by your real name,” she said matter of factly. “You think you’re in any position to make ground rules? The mask stays on.” She rolled her eyes and made herself more comfortable. Her calm demeanour was starting to get on my nerves. “I know you weren’t captured by Nashi Hutt, you gave yourself up. Why?” I asked. “You’re smart at least you were when we were kids. Why don’t you work it out?”

I held out my hand using the force to choke her. Her eyes widened in surprise, which was slowly replaced by fear. She began thrashing around as if that would somehow help her. Eventually I let her go. She coughed and gasped for air. “Are you going to tell me now? Or do I have to search your mind? The latter will be more painful for you.”

Her eyes narrowed but she didn’t throw an insult at me. She knew better now. I cocked my head, waiting for her answer. “I wanted to be here. I wanted my friend back,” she spoke, her gaze meeting mine. I chuckled. How pathetic, “your friend is dead. I changed for the better.” “I don’t believe that. You can say what you like, beat me, torture me. I’m not giving up on you.” “Then you will have died for nothing. But I’m sure you still have your uses before that.” I looked her up and down, she was going to be so much fun to ruin. I wonder how much it would take before she gave herself to me.

“I’m not telling you anything,” She said stubbornly. “I know.” I forced my way into her mind, being greeted with images of our childhood. Of course, she would try and use these memories against me. I continued searching through her memories and thoughts until I stumbled on exactly what I was looking for. Her fantasies. They started out tame at first, Cora sat between my legs as I wrapped my arms around her, then I kissed her. This was going to make things much easier after all.

I felt Cora try and shut me out but her attempt was similar to a child’s. I continued looking through her fantasies like pages of an open book. “Stop it. Please,” she pleaded, her voice strained. I paused, enjoying the way she begged. I’m sure I could get her to beg in other ways. The fantasies changed, Cora pressed against the wall with her legs wrapped around my waist as I took her, claiming her as mine.

“Such disgusting thoughts for a Jedi. Then again you did never make it through your training, which could benefit the both of us currently,” I spoke. “How?” I could sense her unease. “Don’t be afraid, I feel it too,” I ran a gloved hand over her cheek. She flinched under my touch, shrinking back against the metal frame she was cuffed too. My hand wrapped itself loosely around her neck before trailing down her torso. I squeezed one of her breasts, keeping my focus on her expressions. She would cave eventually.

“Ben-“ She tried. “You will address me properly or I'll leave you for Hux to deal with, which would you prefer?” Cora remained silent but I knew her answer. I squeezed the other one before my hand trailed lower. Cora tensed even more, still trying to fight her desires. She did her best to press her thighs together to stop me but the restraints kept her in place. I cupped her through her robes earning a soft gasp from her. I began rubbing her through the layers of material, assessing her every reaction. She turned her head away from me, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth as she closed her eyes.

Her cheeks were red and her breathing was heavier. Soon she would be helpless to resist. I pressed harder, earning a barely audible whimper from her. I'd found her clit. I wonder how wet she was for me. “Don’t fight it Cora. We both know you want this,” I spoke. Her mind was screaming how wrong this was. I slipped my hand under the waistband of her robes and panties, my gloved fingers gliding through her folds with ease. I removed my hand, showing her the shiny evidence of her arousal.

“So, wet for me and I've barely done anything. You'd let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you?” The question was rhetorical. “No,’ she replied. Her mind was screaming the word yes. I chuckled and slipped my hand back into her panties. I circled her clit, her hips jerking at the sudden pleasure. The thought of being her first and ruining her for any other man had gotten me rock hard now. My fingers slipped down further, circling her entrance. She whimpered, doing her best not to rut against my fingers like a bitch in heat.

“I can give you everything you want and more Cora. All you have to do is give yourself to me,” I bargained. I slipped the tip of a finger into her before circling her hole again. She whined, her chest heaving with each breath she took. “P-please,” she managed. “Please what?” “Touch me, fuck me please,” her words a desperate mess.

I smiled and removed my helmet, placing it down. Cora studied my face, her cheeks getting redder. I pressed my lip to hers hard, my free hand grabbing a fistful of her hair. She moaned into the kiss, my tongue working its way into her mouth. She kissed with a sense of uncertainty and innocence. An innocence I was going to corrupt. I used the force to loosen the bonds around her ankles but the ones around her wrists would remain.

I continued to claim her lips with mine whilst I pulled down her bottoms and panties. I forced myself to pull away, crouching down to remove her boots and clothes. I stood back up, kissing her neck before sucking a large purple mark into her skin, marks that would tell everyone she was mine. I had claimed her. I pulled her robes open, continuing to kiss and mark her skin. Cora was breathless, straining against the metal bonds.

I kneeled before her and hooked her legs over my shoulders, placing soft kisses to her inner thighs. She twitched and bucked, so needy for more. “Please,” she begged once more. I definitely loved the sound of her begging. I swiped the tip of my tongue across her clit, earning a moan from her. I continued the teasing licks before finally giving her what she needed. Cora moaned, throwing her head back and digging the heels of her feet into my shoulder blades. Her fists balled, her nails digging into her palms as I continued to pleasure her.

I held her still, stopping her from bucking into my face. I’m sure with how hard I was gripping her thighs she would have bruises tomorrow. I moaned at her taste, not wanting to miss a drop of her sweetness. I slipped a leather clad finger into her, earning a louder moan from her. Eventually I added a second one, stretching her open a little. I curled my fingers against her sweet spot. Cora was now a moaning, panting mess. I could feel her getting tighter around my fingers and pulled away.

She looked like she might cry if I didn’t make her cum. I would, just not like that. I sucked my fingers clean of her juices before kissing her once more, letting her taste herself on my tongue. I freed myself from my robes, rubbing my length against her wetness. She moaned softly as the head of my cock brushed against her clit. Finally, all self-control left me and I pushed into her, both of us moaning as her walls stretched to accommodate me. I closed my eyes, groaning at how tight she was.

I began a slow, hard pace as I held her hips still. Cora threw her back, panting and moaning as she desperately bucked against me. She wanted everything I could give her. “Your mine Cora,” I growled against her neck. “Yes, yours,” she breathed. She’d do and say anything for me at this point so long as I made her cum. I continued marking up her neck, completely ravishing her pale flesh. Cora let out a pained moan as I broke flesh, the taste of coppery blood coating my tongue.

Cora’s wrists continued to strain against the metal. The head of my cock continued to brush against her cervix, meaning she would be sore tomorrow. Yet I’m sure she would ache for more. Desperate for me to use her, ruin her again. I wrapped her legs around my waist, pressing myself against her. “M-more please,” she whined. I sped up the pace, the sound of skin against skin filling the room. My fingers continued to dig into her hips, surely creating another set of bruises. I wasn't going to last much longer at this rate.

She moaned my name, snapping me out of my trance. I met her gaze, my pace slowing until I came to a stop still buried inside her. She whined as I stopped, arching against me in the hopes I would resume the pace. Instead I wrapped a hand around her throat, cutting off her air supply. “What did I tell you? Call me that again and I won’t let you cum,” I threatened. She managed to force out my new name, satisfying me enough to let go of her neck. I instantly resumed the pace and it wasn't long before she was moaning like a whore again.

“Kylo please,” Cora mewled. “Please what? Tell me what you want and I'll give it to you.” “Please make me cum,” she pleaded. I could feel her getting tighter but she needed just that little something extra to tip her over the edge. I reached between our bodies and found her clit, bringing her closer to her climax. Another few strokes and she cried out my name, arching and writhing against me as she came. The heels of her feet dug into my lower back as her walls clenched around me, bringing me to my own climax.

I buried my face in her neck, growling and cursing against her skin as I filled her with my seed. Cora was still shivering from the aftershocks of her orgasm as I pulled out. We weren’t quite finished yet. I made myself look presentable once more. Cora had since relaxed against the metal frame, her breathing slowly returning to normal. “We’re not done yet,” I spoke. Cora frowned in confusion at my words. My hand returned to between her legs, her expression softening. I slipped two fingers back into her heat, pushing my cum back inside her. She let a weak moan, flinching a little from over stimulation.

“Kylo I don’t think I can cum again,” she whined. “You can and you will,” I growled. My thumb rubbed her clit, whilst my fingers curled against her sweet spot. Cora bit her lip as she tried to buck away from the overstimulation once more. Eventually the pain gave way to pleasure and she was a panting, moaning mess once more. It was amazing what a few simple touches could reduce her too. It didn’t take her long to cum once more what with already being stimulated. Her second orgasm wasn’t as intense as the first but still enough to make her legs shake.

I pulled my fingers from her and made her clean them before I redressed her. Her legs went back into place and I closed the cuffs around her ankles. She looked exhausted and ready to sleep. “What happens now?” She asked. “You’ll remain here until a decision has been made about what to do with you.” I put my helmet back on and smoothed down my robes. “I think you’ve already made your decision,” Cora smirked. “We’ll see.”

Taglist: @genevievedarcygranger, @warriorqueen1991, @sherrybaby14, @xxwarhawk, @pyxie27, @purplemuse89

#sherrybaby142kchallenge #kylo ren #kylo ren smut #star wars #the last jedi #the force awakens #force awakens #last jedi #ben solo #adam driver #kylo renxoc #kylo renxcora #kylo ren fanfiction #star wars fanfiction

[littlevenusflytrap22]

A Bitter Spirit//Ben Solo x Reader

Summary:

He smirks, fond of your taunting, “There’s only one thing that is taking my fancy” he blatantly looks you up and down, “Apparently, it’s quite a bitter spirit”

“I believe bitter drinks….” Your eyes wander to his crotch, where his trousers seem to be getting tighter with every move you make, “…go down the best”

Word Count: 2958 words (Oneshot)

Pairing: Ben Solo x Reader (far more smuggler and scoundrel than Commander here)

If you like this, please, please, give it a kudos here! you can also find my other reader inserts and fanfics in the same place. 

Your heart was used to pretty things and pretty people. They come and go like clockwork. Some come to the bar early in the morning and don’t leave till late at night. Others come for hook ups, to gamble or start a riot. Some come just for company. But, either way, pretty people come and go.

Which is why a dark tall, stranger shouldn’t make your mouth dry. Why his biceps straining against his shirt shouldn’t make you desperate to touch. Why his unfairly brown eyes shouldn’t make you wet. But they do and he does.

He sits alone. Others make comments as they pass by, patting him on the back with a friendly demeanour that doesn’t seem to sit well with the traveller. You catch a name, whispered along the tavern.

“Solo?” you say, unable to stop yourself.

He raises his eyes from the bar then, dragging them over you. You thank the maker that you wore something tight, that he could see your legs and the swell of your chest. He makes no flirtatious comment, but his eyebrow raises.

“What about it?”

“Nothing” you shrug, biting on your lip, “Just that, to some people, that name means something”

He shrugs, “Do I have to pay you to keep your mouth shut?”

You wipe up the spilled drinks around him. You almost think about wiping yourself down too, when you feel the slick wetness between your thighs.

You scoff, “Just keep buying drinks, smuggler”

“Keep serving them, bartender” he replies.

Gruff, brash, dirty. Those are all the words to describe him. He goes to sit with other fleeting wanderers and settles into a game of sabacc and you pout at the loss of his heat. You serve other patrons, and, when you look to the table, he seems to be racking up a hefty sum.  

Smuggler, what card tricks are you playing? You think. And, like he could hear your thoughts, he raises his head and winks.

Alcohol flows freely and you start to think that it’s going to be an easy night. But it’s never an easy night

Something breaks out at the table, someone shouts and there’s a scuffle and you move to intervene. But, suddenly, he’s there. He grabs the offender by his collar, lifting him half of the ground to growl in his face, spitting a ‘get the fuck out of here’ before he throws — literally, throws — the guy towards the door. So hard that the door splinters.

Oh, you think, oh.

He wanders back to the bar. His short now open and exposing the sharp lines of his muscles. He holds his winnings in his hand, but his eyes are rattled, slightly mad and somewhat dangerous.

He slides the money across your bar. All of the money, every last credit.

“For your door and your time” he says, leaning on the bar and looking nothing less than suggestive.

You slide the money back towards him, “I’m a bartender. Not a prostitute”

“I said your time” he pushes it back, making sure to brush your hand, “not your cunt”

Your face flushes despite the frown you try to put on, the way he says ‘cunt’ is not angry, or aggressive, it’s on a level of suggestion. As though he was thinking about it, is thinking about it, but won’t ask you for it, not yet.

“So, what will it be Solo?” you say, reaching underneath the bar for two bottles, “Bespin Breeze or Bloodsours?”

You brandish each bottle for him, making sure to wrap you hand tightly over the hilt.

He eyes you, moving his mop of hair out the way, “Whatever you want to give me” he smirks, running his tongue over his bottom lip.

“Apologies. ‘A sharp slap‘ isn’t on the menu tonight” you sass.

“What about…” he runs his eyes over the menu board. Then he leans over, you mouths inches apart, “’A taste of your pussy’’ is that available?”

His eyes light up with mirth. Entwinning you in some game that you’re not sure you can win.

“You can’t afford it” you reply. You hope your eyes don’t give you away, don’t show your greed and how much you want him. With the darkening of his eyes, you’re not sure your successful.

“’An hour inside of you’?” he gives you a wiry grin, “I hear it’s a rare treat”

“No, but we do have a ‘you couldn’t last that long’ and a ‘get fucked’, do any of those take your fancy?” you sass, pouring some unearthly green liquid into a shot glass, and, as Ben reaches for it, you down it. Licking your lips.

He smirks, fond of your taunting, “There’s only one thing that is taking my fancy” he blatantly looks you up and down, “Apparently, it’s quite a bitter spirit”

“I believe bitter drinks….” Your eyes wander to his crotch, where his trousers seem to be getting tighter with every move you make, “…go down the best”

“Then, as a bartender, you should educate me”

You don’t know what possesses you — or maybe you do— but you wander around the bar, coming to stand before him like an offering.

“Or…” you brush you hand up his shirt, “…you could just have a taste”

An energy passes between the two of you, molten and strong and he smiles, “Yes, I think I will”

You are unsure how a flirty argument could end up with a Solos – Ben Solo’s, Smuggler and rumoured Jedi’s- tongue in your mouth, but it does, and it would again if you had anything to say about. It is not a sweet chaste thing. It is like a battle, a brutal dirty move of lips that has you grabbing for the lapels of his jacket, while hitches his hands on to your thighs. You must have a fever or an infectious disease, because you’re burning up with ever move of his hips.

It never usually felt like this. No one could tell you how powerful it felt to have a man’s stubble scrap along your chin, the teeth that sink along your bottom lip or the thick line of their tongue tangling with yours. Maybe it’s because they never felt this.

It was a kiss that lacked grace, but so did you.

He parts with you and you try to follow his mouth, but he sooths you with a finger on your lips.

“Come with me”

What did it say about you that those words – from a scoundrel’s mouth – could make warm heat pool in your abdomen?

He leads. You follow.

Legs wobbly like a new-born deer and head slightly dazed with lust, especially when he takes you to the ship. The Millennium Falcon.

You grin, giddy with adrenaline and need, “Don’t have a hotel?”

“I take mine with me”

He slaps your ass as you walk in and you can’t quell the way it makes your heart race. It skips half a beat when he pushes you in to the pilots chair, spinning it to face him.

“I bet your wet, aren’t you baby?”

“Don’t try to dirty talk me like one of your conquests” you point to the floor between your legs, “I’m sure your tongue has better uses”

You thank the maker for skirts and the Solo genetics when he grins that salacious smile.

“Yes Ma’am”

He falls to his knees, no decorum, no hesitation but all sex appeal. He parts your legs like he’s opening a particularly precious gift, soft hands and patience. Then he catches a glance of your pussy throbbing and soaking.

“No underwear?” he grunts, palming himself through his trousers, “Did you expect someone to fuck you tonight, you filthy thing?”

“Maybe” you spread your legs wider, “Are you going to? Or are you just going to look at it?”

“Maybe” he repeats, hooking your left leg over his shoulder, “but a real connoisseur samples the wine”

He licked feverish kisses into your calf, tracing his fingers close but never where you need them, just littering your body with appreciation, sucking marks all over your skin. The pleasure of having such a beautiful man between your thighs was not lost on you, and you groan when he suckles a deep bruise on your inner thigh, hair ruffled by your hands.

He was turning you into a shuddering mess, your hips trying to reach him despite his tight grip on your thighs.

“Ben” you sigh, leaning into the chair.

“Hush” he sinks his teeth into your thigh again, a warning, “You’re supposed to take little sips, not drink it all at once”

You deserved this, you deserved relief. And you deserved pretty people.

You grab his hair in your hands pulling him towards you. and, in the silent hull, you whisper a soft ‘please’.

Whatever patience he had was lost and you were lost with it as he brings his lips on to you. He was fast like the triggering of a bullet, lips sucking harshly on your clit and tongue working out to lick every part of you. He moved long and deeps, letting you moan and pull at his hair when something sends pleasure through your veins.

It was like he knew — a force trick, maybe? — how to work you best. How to find the rhythm that had you sweating at nape. The pads of his fingers are rough and grind perfectly on your clit while the soft, plush apex of his mouth runs over you folds with broad strokes. He has a wide tongue, perfect for hitting where you need it — over and over and over — until your eyes well with tears of pleasure.

Your hands sink into his hair and you feel him smile, holding your hands still as you try to bring him to your clit again.

“Bastard. Scoundrel.” You push his head towards your pussy, half anger, half desperation, “Give me what I want”

“You were such a tease before…can’t handle a little back?” he says, mouthing at your inner thigh, “Beg me”

“Fuck you”

He tuts, rubbing your clit with abstract fascination. “You won’t get to, if you don’t beg”

“Please”

He runs the hard slant of his nose through your folds, just pushing against your bundle of nerves with a taunting rub. He catches your eyes from under his lashes and — dare you say it— you want to cum all over his pretty face until he can only taste you.

“More”

“Eat me out!” you borderline crying and his finger rubs over your clit painfully slow, just watching your pussy throb, “Just touch me, Ben!”

“More”

“I want to cum all over your fucking face” you dig your heels into his shoulder, feeling, rather than seeing, his pleasure at your demise, “I want to make you so dirty Ben, want your stubble to burn my thighs”  he’s grinning now, it’s splitting his face and you flutter your eyes at him, “please”

“Good girl”

He doesn’t give you time to think before he dives back in, his efforts doubled from your need. Licking at your slickness with broad strokes fingers just playing with your entrance before they circle back to your clit — obviously he’s saving that for later. Your body aches to pull away or pull him closer but then he puts his lips around your clit and sucks.

Your legs latch around his head, eyes filled with the nights sky — or maybe it’s the dizzying feeling of pleasure rushing through you, you can’t tell — but you’re screaming and he’s groaning into you like he’s never tasted anything like it.

“Yes” he looks up at you, licking your release of his lips, “I like a dessert wine, it’s always so sweet”

“Stop with your metaphors and fuck me”

You get up, forcing him to follow and you lightly push him back into the seat. He’s hard, so thick and large that he must be chaffing in those trousers. You unzip him with speed, there was no time to waste now and you almost laugh at what you find.

“No underwear?” you mock, rubbing the bottom of his long cock with your palm.

“I was looking for a pretty bartender to fuck” he rubs your hand up your outer thighs, “Guess I walked into the right bar”

“Aren’t you lucky” you say, sitting down on to his lap.

He lifts up your top, his hands shaking with the need to see you. “Very”

He gets your top of but doesn’t bother removing your bra, just gets it high enough to get a palmful of your tits. He pinches, rolls and grabs on to your nipples like a man who may never touch anything so perfect again, and, you realise what this is going to be — a filthy, dirty, fuck. He pushes his head into the middle of your sternum, alternating between licking and kissing the edge of your tits.

It was like star light, your eyes wanted to roll back but you grab his cock, hearing him hiss through your teeth, and rub it along your wet folds.

Your body is throbbing with an emptiness you can’t sedate. A deep seated wanting to have his dick so far In you that you feel in in your throat.

“Fuck me” you groan, putting his dick next to you entrance.

“With pleasure” he sounds restrained, but you feel the shaky breaths on your neck, the way he wanted you too.

He lifts his hips to push into you slow, testing the waters. Too slow, painstakingly slow, holding your hips where they sit, and you, you lose all patience, sinking down onto him so fast, he flings his head back into the seat with a dull ‘thud’ and you exhale shakily.

His cock is huge. Thick, long and filling you completely.

And maker, were you full.

His hands bruise your hips with practiced restraint. But the sweat on his brow, the slight tremor of his hands showing you just how much he wants it, how much he wants to fuck up into your heat like a man unrestrained.

Filthy animal, you thought.

“Oh fuck!” you grind your hips in a small circle, just getting the feeling for him, but it drags along your walls, hitting every spot with ease, “Fuck— Ben”

The rogue grins, leaning up to put his head in the crux of your neck, just watching your wet pussy suck him in. A dirty voyeur to your pleasure.

“You like my cock, baby?” he groans, “Dirty slut”

You did, your head nodding as you chase your pleasure on his cock. Your hips move on their own, the rhythm automatic and Bens hip chase every movement.

He grunts loudly. “Fuck—tell me how much you like it”

His hand tightens on to your throat, the metal band of a ring digging painfully into your neck. He was eager, rolling his hips into you, biting into his lip so he doesn’t go too hard, too soon. “Say it”

“I love it!” you scream, “Ruin my pussy, fill it with your cum—oh— fuck me, Ben”

He stills his hips and you see the lock of his jaw. He was holding back.

“Don’t!” you whine, feeling his balls slap against you, “Don’t hold back, please—” he grips your throat harder “—fuck me harder, Ben!”

He does.

He throws you back on the console — nothing starts moving, so you figure it’s fine — and his pace becomes relentless. Caught between drawing it out and ruining you. Its slick and wet, the heat of your cunt burning like a furnace and his cock pistons between the two of you. He’s primal, an animal, digging his teeth into your neck and he fucks you hard, until all you can hear is the lewd, wet sounds your bodies make.

He moves to watch you — the flush crawling further up your neck just from how dirty it was — and holds your throat while he brings his other hand to rub your clit.

“Fuck. Cum for me, baby” his voice is hot, borderline desperate,  “I know you can. Get my cock all nice and wet”

And you do. Back arching against the console, straining against hide palm. And he watches your undoing, watches your pussy clench around him, drowning his cock in your wetness until it slips with ease between you. He watches you mouth go slack — red and raw from biting — and he fills you. Fucks his cum right into you, groaning into the night sky and you think it’s the most beautiful thing you ever scene.

You both rack through your pleasure, until your nothing but sweaty, sticky bodies. And he grabs you —dick softening inside you— to sit back in his lap in the chair.

Pressing kisses to his forehead, you wipe the hair out of his face, now damp with sweat.

“Han will kill us if we get cum stains on the chair” you say, humming against him.

Ben groans, “Please don’t talk about my father while my dicks still inside you”

“He is a handsome man” you mock, and he pinches your ass.

“Did you enjoy playing bartender?”

I did—” you smile, using a Jedi mind trick to make the owners schedule you for a shift —all for a sexual fantasy— was hasty, reckless and perfect, “—until You broke character”

“When?” he scoffs.

You lift up his hand. The one wearing a wedding ring. The wedding ring that matches yours.

“You didn’t take it off” you say, kissing his fingers.

I couldn’t—”

You look at him in shock, “Why? is it too tight?”

He whines in the back of his throat, “No. I just…couldn’t”

“oh” you say, as he turns up to look at you like there was no greater sight in the entire universe, “I see”

And you did.

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