#i almost went with Eddie saying I hear your interest in my painting but he doesn’t know Steve so why would he do that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whoahoney · 1 year

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Not the Babysitter Pt 2

Steve Harrington x SingleMom!Reader

A/N: Part 2 of my abandoned Steve Harrington fic! This is actually the fic that got me back into writing last year before I tripped and fell down the massive rabbit hole that is Eddie Munson! Still love me some Stevie boy. 😩🤍

part 1 can be found here

Summary: Reader and Sara are back to rent another video from Steve, will he shoot his shot?

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Steve waited for the following week to come; her rental expiring Monday evening. When Monday morning came, he made sure he had nothing to do in case she came the same time as last week.

And he was right.

Around 9:30, the bell jingled and Steve could hear the hushed conversation between the toddler and mama, who looked just as breathtaking as the first time he saw her.

“Nana’s house??” Y/n asked the child holding her hand. “Yeah!” Sara smiled devilishly.

“We’re gonna have to call Nana first but I imagine we can make it happen.” Y/n said as she picked Sara up to put her on hip. That was when she met Steve’s eyes, and it almost knocked his socks off.

He felt absolutely ridiculous. His heart thudded in his chest and he worried she could see his chest throb with adoration.

“So, how was it?” He asked expectantly.

“The Care Bears never disappoint, what can I say?” She grinned and placed Sara on the counter like last time. “Hello, Sara.” He greeted with a smile, which Sara matched bashfully.

“Hello.” She responded softly before turning back to her mothers shoulder, the action tugging at his heartstrings. “How was your week?” Steve asked, now looking to Y/n who couldn’t help but feel all warm inside that he acknowledged her daughter.

“It’s been busy, but I can’t complain.“ She shrugged.

“—Mommy, down.” Sara kicked her feet. Y/n bit her lip and looked around the store for customers and then how far she would wander and what she would grab—

“She can’t hurt anything in here, really. Nothing customers don’t already.” He assured her.

“Okay, don’t go far, okay?” She helped her off the counter and watched her wander to the kids section.

“Okay.” Sara called without turning back.

Steve smiled, “And how was Sara’s week?” He nodded towards the curly haired girl, his eyes showing genuine interest in the way he looked into her mothers eyes.

Y/n about melted on the spot. “She had a good week! Watched Care Bears about 37 times.” They giggled. “Went to the park, painted some rocks—“ his smiled widened in wonder, “—Added tons to our collection, actually.” She chuckled, looking at her fingers nervously.

“Do you have a lot?” He asked.

Y/n nodded, “Mhm. Some of them are raw cuts we’ve picked up on our travels, or some polished ones you can get at the store.” He nodded, again, waiting for her to keep talking, waiting to ask her about ‘their travels’

“And you?”

“Me? Oh, I don’t have any rocks.”

“No, silly, your week! How was your week?” She giggled at his blushing cheeks.

He tsked at himself, averting his eyes to regain his composure. “Oh, I’m just living the dream, you know? Renting movies and sorting tapes is kinda my passion.” He said leaning forward and propping his elbows on the counter. Y/n chuckled at his joke, his heart soaring at the sound. He couldn’t wait to tell Robin he made her laugh.

“Whatever pays the rent, right?” She shrugged. He nodded, for once setting down the embarrassment he felt surrounding his occupation, and wondered when he could ask what hers was.

Y/n dug around in her purse for the video case and then handed it over to Steve. As he accepted it, he realized again why they were here in the first place. He thanked her and marked it on time in the system. “Is there anything I can help you find today?” He asked, returning to his position at the counter in front of her.

Y/n pursed her lips and sighed, “I could use Dirty Dancing if you have it.”

Steve smiled, “Lemme see if it’s here.” He strolled over to the romance section, leaving her at the desk to watch him walk away in his favorite jeans, which were now her favorite too. He ducked behind a display to scan the shelves and saw the empty place Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey belonged.

“Not there.” He sighed, coming back around the counter and typing away before letting the monitor load. Y/n flashed a patient smile that reminded him of the nagging guilt tucked away in his chest.

An elephant in the room he wasn’t sure if she saw too.

“By the way, I’m sorry… for assuming the other day, I really should’ve known she was yours,” Steve shrugged and ran a nervous hand through his hair, meeting her eyes again with a half hearted smile.

“It was dumb of me, and—“

“It wasn’t dumb, Steve. Everyone does it. I’m either her sister or babysitter, don’t sweat it.” Y/n shrugged, which made Steve feel a lot better. She craned her neck to spy her daughter in a near aisle, sitting down with three movies in front of her. Before Y/n took a step to get her, Steve spoke, “Oh, c’mon, I should’ve thought sister before babysitter, I mean, she looks just like you, she’s gorgeous.” He said without hesitation, glancing over at Sara with a chuckle as she began haphazardly stacking the videos from the bottom shelf as high as she could.

Y/n’s blush burned brightly at the compliment, her incredulous smile making his heart pound in his chest, “But uh, I’d still really like to take you out sometime, if you’re free of any other kind of, uh, committed relationship…” Steve stammered, which Y/n thought was adorable.

“Is that your way of asking if I’m single?” She asked with a sweet smile, cradling her chin in her hands. Steve’s face flushed pink at her direct approach. He nodded, wiping a hand over his face to ground himself. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

“I am very single, yes..” she smiled, his heart soaring at the sight.

Finally, things are going his way.

“but..” Steve’s heart stopped beating for a second before she spoke again. She noticed how his smile faltered, quick to explain herself, “No, no, no, I’d love to go out with you, really, I just don’t have a sitter too often, and I wouldn’t be able to… go out like other girls can.. I wouldn’t want to disappoint either of us, you know?” She said, placing a hand on top of his on the counter reassuringly.

Steve’s heart jump-started at the touch, immediately finding a solution to her problem, “I wouldn’t ever expect you to be able to go out with me like ‘other girls can’, and I love that.” He shrugged, Y/n shooting him a look of confusion in response.

“I want something bigger than what the girls around here want from me.” He sighed, sharing a knowing look with her, “I know you’re not gonna bullshit me, you know?” He could feel the oncoming rambles about to bubble out of him but he didn’t care, “Not to mention you obviously have your priorities in order, you’re caring, and responsible—and-and straightforward! That’s exactly what I want. And another thing—“ He leaned slightly closer for emphasis, “I’d be more than happy to take the both of you out to dinner, any time.” His eye contact unwavering from hers.

“Really?” She whispered. Steve wasted no time before he nodded just as gently, “Yes! There’s so many fun things we could take her to do around here, y’know? The parks beautiful, we could have a lunch there sometime! Or to the pumpkin patch in the… fall.” He cringed at his forward thinking.

Regardless, she smiled, her eyes shiny with speckled stars inside that he placed there with his sweet words and wishes. She nodded in response, placing her hand over his.

“There’s a really good ice cream store opening soon, too.” He shrugged and covered her hand with his other. “But for now, we could grab milkshakes at the diner. Maybe watch a movie some evening? Soon.”

Y/n all but melted at his words that dripped with sincerity. She sighed with a smile and nodded after a moment, a soft “Okay.” shocking Steve to his core. “Really?” He asked as if he’d imagined it.

“Yes, really.” Y/n blushed as the computer screen finished loading the inventory. Steve scrolled down, searching the list until he found Dirty Dancing, which was due back today.

“Just say when.” She said with quiet eagerness watching her daughter saunter over with a movie while Steve looked to her mother with adoration hidden behind his eyes. “I have good news and bad news,” He informed her with pursed lips as he came to lean on the counter again. Y/n sat the tape on the counter with a quirk of the brow.

“The good news, is that I am free for you guys any night this week after 6, but the bad news—” He leaned forward on the counter, “is that Dirty Dancing will not be back until tonight. If they show up on time.”

Y/n nodded slightly disappointed, but understanding until Steve came up with yet another solution. “But! I’d be happy to grab it for you as soon as it comes in.” He offered.

Her smile returned to her face at his words. “You really don’t have to do that, Steve, I can always come back.” She countered.

“I want to, really. It also gives me another excuse to see you outside of work.”

Y/n playfully rolled her eyes and dug through her purse for a pen and paper, Steve’s heart racing. She settled on a grocery receipt, ripping off a few inches to write on.

“This is my number,” She jotted down, “—give me a call later? After 7:30 should be good, and, uh, maybe we can figure out when we can watch that movie.” She slid the paper over to him, his index finger pulling it the rest of the way to him. He held it tightly, absolutely stoked at his accomplishment.

“I—I would love that.” He said sincerely, stifling his disbelieving chuckles, remembering he needed to check out Sara’s next movie, the Labyrinth.

“Ooh, I like this one.” Steve said to Sara, who grinned until he could hardly see her eyes and hid behind her moms legs. He rang up the purchase and fought the urge to pay for it himself as she handed him the $3.25.

He bagged it up and slid it over to her with a smile. “Have a good day, ladies.”

“I do it!” Sara insisted, grabbing for the bag. Y/n obliged her and looped her arm through the handles, dangling like a shoulder bag on the small child.

“You too, Steve.” She smiled and shook her head in sheer disbelief as she collected her daughters hand and made her way to the door.

“You’ll be hearing from me later.” He called after her.

She giggled and looked over her shoulder as Sara pulled her hand towards the door. “I’m looking forward to it.” She said.

“7:30!” He reminded after her as she pulled open the door to leave. “7:30.” She nodded and confirmed before the bell jingled behind her.

Steve’s eyes followed them to their car until they were safely inside and out of the parking lot. After that, Steve sank down to the floor behind the counter, holding the paper to his chest; feeling like a love struck fool in high school again.

The feeling worried him, made him uneasy, yet so excited and warm and dizzy. His chest heaved as he checked his watch to calculate the hours between now and 7:30 tonight.

9:45.

“Fuck!” His head fell back with a disappointed thud.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Steve’s day went by remarkably slow until Robin showed up for her shift after school. As soon as she opened the door, ready to inform him of a fight that broke out at lunch, Steve leapt over the counter to meet her at the door.

“ROBIN!” He shouted as he grabbed her shoulders. “What?! What??” She asked, looking for the fire.

“Look what I got today.” He said smugly, a proud smile hung on his face. Robin moved to the counter, Steve following intently.

When she looked up to see the paper resting between Steve’s fingers, her jaw dropped. “Is that—?” Steve couldn’t help but explain before she was able to finish, “Her phone number, that’s right, I have it. She gave it to me, I didn’t even have to ask, technically. She asked me to call her! Tonight!” He said anxiously pacing in front of her as she shrugged on her vest.

“I can’t believe she actually gave you her number.” Robin shook her head at the sliver of paper, fully convinced he’d blown it from the way he’d explained the first encounter.

“Yeah, me either. She’s incredible.” He shook his head at the thought of her.

“You don’t even know her yet!” Robin chided with a laugh. “I don’t have to know all about her to know she’s incredible. You’ll understand when you meet her someday.” He waved her off.

“I hope you make it that far.” Robin patted him on the back affectionately.

And for once, Steve really thought he would.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When 6:00 came, Steve dropped everything to strip off his vest as fast as he possibly could and tossed it to Robin, who stood behind the counter checking out customers.

“Good luck!” Robin called to him as he pushed through the door and waving his thanks behind him.

Steve treated himself to some KFC because today felt like his day. Every song that played on the drive home made him think of her and Sara.

He buried the worry. The fear of attachment, of rejection. He didn’t wanna feel that kinda pain again, but he was willing to risk it because the girl made him feel different—wonderfully different.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was 7:25.

Steve was showered, fed, and waiting on his bed. He sat with his back against the headboard and his legs stretched out in front of him, next to the phone; his arms crossed over his bare chest.

Steve sighed deeply, deciding the quiet was too much. He crossed his room to the stereo, pressing play on his Cars tape and adjusting the volume.

He shook his shoulders out the way he would loosen them before a basketball game, and grabbed his small orange basketball to flop down with on top of his bed.

He threw the ball into the small hoop hanging from his closet with ease, realizing now that he didn’t want to get back up to retrieve it.

He groaned at the agony of trying to pass more time, then checked his watch again.

7:28

“Holy shit!” Steve panicked. His eyes searched for the slip of paper, realizing he didn’t have it with him the entire time he was home.

Steve dashed to the bathroom, searching for his pants before realizing he’d been responsible and put them down in the laundry room.

Finally he spotted the familiar Levi’s label and shoved his hands in the pockets. “Aha!!” He proclaimed as he unfolded the beautiful slip of paper.

Steve ran back upstairs and down the hall to dive onto his bed and dial her number.

He checked his watch as he pressed the phone to his ear; waiting for the call to go through, when he realized it was now 7:35.

His eyes shot open as her voice answered on the other end. “Hello?” She sounded as sweet as she did in person. “Hey! It’s Steve,” He said into the mouth piece, holding the phone with two hands like it’d slip away if he didn’t pay attention.

“Oh, hi, Steve! I was hoping it was you.” An audible smile in her voice.

He chuckled and tried to contain himself, “I’m uh, sorry I’m a little late, I was looking for my pants.” He said before smacking his palm against his forehead as she laughed.

“Your pants? Well, did you find them?” She asked amusedly. Steve relaxed and let himself laugh with her. “Yeah, I did, I-I was actually trying to find your phone number in them so I could call you on time.” He confessed.

“Well, I think you’re plenty on time. Don’t worry, you didn’t keep me waiting long, I just now got sat down with my dinner. It’s… been an evening, you could say.” She said with a bitter chuckle at the end.

“Oh? How so?” He asked, curious to hear about her day. “You don’t wanna hear about all that mess, really. Just toddler things. Screaming, potty training, vegetables, you know, the works.” She joked.

Steve smiled, his cheeks hurting at this point but not caring. “I’d be happy to hear about anything you wanna tell me. Besides, you mean to tell me my girl Sara has a mean-streak? I don’t buy it.” He said with a smirk.

Y/n scoffed, “Oh, boy, you have no idea. They’re little monsters, I tell you. The girl refuses to eat anything that isn’t macaroni or chicken. Broccoli? Forget about it.” She leaned against the wall of her kitchen, sat up on the end of her kitchen counter and twirling the phone cord in her fingers.

Steve loved listening to her, he could for hours and actually find everything interesting. So he did.

She told him about their daily routine; what it takes to get Sara ready to go of a morning, what it’s like when it’s just the two of them and what it’s like when she has to work. He found it all fascinating.

The tiny bowls of breakfast, the hair braids, the pink backpacks filled with emergency clothes in case of an accident at daycare, tantrums over forgotten sippy cups sounded more endearing than he knew they were supposed to.

It just was.

All of it.

“So, she does a preschool program at the daycare? What all can she do?” He asked.

“I mean, they do a lot of arts and crafts, but that does a lot more for their development than most would think. And she can tell you every color and almost count to 10 on her own.” She mentioned. Steve smiled at her pride for her daughter.

“Even if she’s a monster sometimes, it sounds like you’re raising a pretty great girl there.” He complimented which made Y/n swoon against the wall.

“You’re real sweet, Steve.” She said again.

“So I’ve heard,” He joked. “So I have to ask,” he started. Y/n’s ears perked at the change in topic. “Have you given my dinner invitation any thought?” He hoped.

Y/n smiled at his persistence. “I have, actually. And we were wondering if tomorrow evening was good for you?”

As if he’d have to think. “Tomorrow sounds fantastic.”

Part 3

Taglist lovelies 💖

@weasleylovers @cutiecusp @frostandflamesfanfic @realsuper-dark @hermadroyalhiney @flowersownme @imagineme2you @moonys-star @daydreaming-mood @just-a-lost-princess @the-fairy-anon @loving-and-dreaming

#steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #Steve harrington x mom!reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff

511 notes · View notes

ashes-writing · 2 years

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wild one pt six | stranger things ; g.emerson

tag list babes || req rules / fandoms+characters || got a req? || masterlist

CHAPTERS ;

one two three four five can all be found by clicking. my stranger things masterlist is here.

AUTHORS NOTES;

This chapter went in four fucking different directions before I finally settled on this one. And I thought it was cute, so.. I had to go for it. I'm gonna try to do even more domestic-y fluff for the next one though so if you're interested.. Also, have lowkey established that the whole 'fight' that did take place on the actual show will probably happen here -aka in this fic, though it'll be wildly different and have different reasons for occurring and the way it looks, there miiiight be a fight leading up to that fight but idk yet. Like I said, this story has put me in a fucking chokehold and I have zero regrets.

Huuuuge hugs and lots of kisses to everyone because you have no idea just how much the interaction / your choice to read -and tolerate my bullshit even encourages me to begin with, I cannot say it enough, you guys are so so so so amazing and I love you so much. All the likes / comments / reblogs / reblogs with tags, ugh.. They always blow me away and I can't properly express how much it means to me.

SUMMARY;

-- cheerleaders and drummers / freaks.. they don't mix.. right?

PAIRING;

Gareth Emerson x Fem!Reader ( beyond vague outfit / hairstyle mentions and having female parts + personality, she's blank. )

WARNINGS;

there aren't really any warnings here. Swearing and that's about it. Just two lil babies being cute / oblivious / slightly awkward.

TAGLIST;

@AURUMBELIS

@ALLELITESMUT

@ARIES-ARCADE

@COLE22ANN

@EBONYBLOOM

@HEYAITSKLAUDIA

@HCLOANGCLS

@HOESHII

@ICEQUEEN1371

@KRYS-ORION

@LETSBEDRAGONSTOGETHER

@LOUDERFORTHEBACK

@MUSICHEALSSCARS

@SECRETSICANTHIDEANYMORE

@SCOOBIESSNACKS

@THECHOICESLOOKGRIMM

@UNTITLEDAREA - these are all the names on my stranger things taglist. if you’d like to be added, please click the link at the top of the post.

OTHER STUFF;

set in the summer before S4, will go through S4 but will not have Upside Down, Vecna, deaths. Starcourt Mall + other things still exist here. Gareth is 18 in this, just so we're all clear.

“Okay, we all know what we’re here for, right? In and out, no bullshit.” Eddie gazes at his three best friends and then briefly back at the giant building behind him in the parking lot that houses Starcourt Mall. He absolutely loathes this place for the most part, but venturing out to it today is a necessary evil.

Gareth isn’t exactly thrilled to be at the mall and blue eyes dart around warily. He tells himself he’s trying not to look for you or anything but it goes without saying, yes. Yes he is.

He knows you’re found here sometimes and it’s been about three days since you babysat his little sisters. Three days since he’s seen you at all and truth be told, it’s made him more than a little irritable. This is something that the three boys standing in a lazy circle with him have all picked up on and have been teasing him about relentlessly.

They’re all heading into the mall when he hears your loud laughter nearby and he stops, mid-walk.

You’re in line at Sbarro’s with El and your stepsister, your best friend Emma and two other girls he recognizes from school.

And you’re wearing another one of those little cropped things and a pair of high waisted jean shorts that almost look as if they’ve been painted on, with rips in sporadic places over the legs. The fact that you’re wearing biker boots with cutoffs has him gulping just like it always does. But none of this is what has him staring, transfixed on you as you stand across the food court. What really gets him is the flannel shirt carelessly tied around your waist. That flannel looks almost exactly identical to one he has sitting tucked away in his closet at home. It just actually has sleeves to it unlike his others.

Grant clears his throat. “Go talk to her.”

“Nah.” Gareth shakes his head. “She’s got people with her.”

“Oh come on.” Eddie’s smirking, he’s taunting just a little, maybe he enjoys pushing Gareth Emerson’s buttons about the crush Gareth tries to turn himself inside out to deny. “It’s literally just Red, Red’s little friend and that crazy chick, Emma.”

“And two of the other girls on the squad. I’ll pass, I’m good.” Gareth answers with a calm glare of warning. But his gaze is on you again not even a second later and he watches as you sit down at a table in the middle of the food court, legs reclined against its edge. You’re laughing, talking with your hands at the same time as Max and every now and then you’ll take a sip out of a cup with the Sbarro branding on its side.

The others have all wandered off to get what they came for. Gareth is on a direct trajectory to the music store because he needs to replace his drumsticks, he broke one during a show at the Hideout earlier in the week. He figures you don’t even see him, so he walks right past.

What he’s not expecting is for you to call out to him as he does it.

He stops in the middle of the area, frozen in place and he doesn’t dare look back.

Max is giggling and she nudges you, nodding to the flannel around your waist. “Y’think he’ll recognize it?”

“I have no idea.” you mumble, staring at Gareth Emerson’s turned back intently. “Is he gonna come over here?” you wonder aloud as you take a long sip from the fountain drink inside your cup and sit the cup on the table.

Your stomach churns a little because this isn’t the pool, this isn’t the park or his house. This is Starcourt Mall. Where people will see him if he talks to you or vice versa and you have just enough time to wonder if maybe being thrust into your path most of the summer hasn’t finally gotten on his nerves. But then just as you’ve convinced yourself that he has no interest in being seen talking to you in public and you’ve turned your attention back to your huge slice of deep dish pizza to take another bite, you hear his throat clear from right behind you. His hand is on the back of your chair.

You pretend not to notice but as you feel his knuckle graze right up against your skin you nearly choke on a pepperoni. “Shit. Wrong pipe!” you cough out, recovering. But you can see Max giving you one of her little looks and a headshake. Gareth is lightly hitting you between your shoulders as he gazes down at you in concern. Which then turns into staring. Blushing like an idiot, he can feel the heat in his face.

And Emma’s giving you a shit-eating grin across the table as she slurps into her straw obnoxiously.

“You okay, little chaos demon?” Gareth asks and he wants to punch himself when the private nickname he’s bestowed upon you when he talks about you to the guys slips out, right there, right in public. And there’s his tone too, a little firm. Concerned. He already wishes he’d just kept walking because he just knows he’s making an entire mess out of this interaction.

You turn back to glance up at him and you’re grinning. It’s that same cute and sweet little grin he saw countless times a few nights ago when you babysat his little sisters and you hung around for an hour after, teaching him how to play poker while he tried to explain the finer points of Dungeons and Dragons to you.

It’s the little smile he’d do literally anything for and sadly, this is a fact that he’s just trying to come to grips with. Because he doesn’t think he’ll ever have you, but he can have the little smiles. Or that damn giggle that’s seared into his mind and has him reacting to it every single time he hears it as if it’s now muscle memory.

He’s distracted, just a little. So distracted that he totally misses you reaching down and pressing something into his hand while giggling. You let your hand linger over his before pulling away, reaching back to pick up your soda and like Em was doing seconds before, you’re blowing bubbles into the drink through your straw as you stare up at him for a second or two.

Gareth is snapped back to reality by your soft laughter as you snap fingers in his face to get his attention. You nod to his closed hand and he looks down. Opening it to reveal two pins and a patch. His face is on fire and he wants to die because he hates the fact that he blushes so goddamn easily, he really does. If he had the confidence that Eddie has. Or one of the douchebags on the basketball team, he thinks to himself, blushing wouldn’t be an issue.

“Thanks.” it’s said in this quiet voice, because he’s stunned and he can’t think of anything else to say.

One of them is a Metallica pin. There’s a Motley Crue pin and a Motorhead patch and you give him that cute little grin again, shrugging as if what you’ve just done in gifting him the pins and patch isn’t a big deal but it is. It’s kind of huge, actually.

Because it hits him like a brick wall. This means you were thinking about him. Him.

Emma keeps staring at the flannel around your waist and smirking at you and you’re giving her pleading looks not to say anything to tip him off because you still can’t believe you actually just had it on, wearing it casually as you cleaned up around the house for his parents so his mom wouldn’t have to the next morning. Or that you managed to forget and grab it when you grabbed your own shirt when you went to leave that night.

To be fair, you’d spilled orange Kool Aid all over the Chicago Bears shirt you’d been wearing over the sports bra that night to begin with and you didn’t really want to run around in the sports bra by itself. And his shirt was sitting right there, on the dryer. Taunting you.

But you should have returned the damn thing and explained the situation and yet, somehow, every time you tell yourself you’re going to do it, you just can’t. And now, it’s been a few days and if you say a thing, if you let on what happened you have absolutely no doubt that things will be awkward.

And they’re already awkward enough, what with your penchant for managing to make an ass of yourself nearly every single time he’s thrown into your path.

Gareth happens to see Emma staring intently at the flannel around your waist and he glances down. It looks almost exactly like the one he has that still has sleeves, the resemblance is so much that he’s standing there and he’s picturing you wandering around his room in only the flannel and little else. And now he’s hard and he’s shuffling his sneakers as he tries to will the situation back under control.

He knows it’s not his flannel, it can’t be.

But if it was, oh god.

He’s not even sure how he’d deal with you wearing his clothes beyond his obvious reaction to only a mental image of that happening.

He’s in a daze and you catch him staring at the flannel shirt around your waist and for just a second or two, you think you’re caught, you worry that you have to be. You’re fidgeting, he’s staring and at one point, Max nudges Em and leans in to her side with El doing the same so she can hear what’s said, “Do they do this a lot?”

“Mhm. Usually when one or the other isn’t looking? Are you two feeling like you can’t breathe right now too? Because holy fuck.. Me.” Emma takes a sip as she glances at the two younger girls, “Y’know.” she teases Max gently, “You’re probably gonna be like.. Her second maid of honor at their wedding one day.”

Max laughs, scoffs about it and Emma shrugs. “Don’t believe me then. I’m telling you. That boy is one of those who probably dates for life.”

“And my stepsister just doesn’t date. I mean, she hasn't since I've known her...” Max insists. Emma laughs. “She would if she thought he liked her though. Said it herself last time we were all out playing hide and seek at night, remember?”

“Well yeah, but..” Max mulls it over and shrugs. El laughs quietly. “I can kind of see it. They’re cute.”

“They need to get a room. The tension is driving me crazy.” April fans herself with the stack of napkins she’d grabbed to eat with her burger when you all sat down.

“Totally, oh my god. I think I’m honestly sexually frustrated on her behalf.” Cass admits, slurping her milkshake. “Think the idiot has realized it’s his shirt around her waist yet?”

“No but it’s so fucking fun watching her squirm about it right now.” April laughs.

“I know!”

“They’re okay, right?” you ask the question as you tilt your head slightly and gaze up at him. Gareth clears his throat and nods, giving you what he hopes is a good smile and not one that looks like he’s trying to chew glass. Now that he’s been made aware of the things his face likes to do on it’s own, he’s afraid to risk it around you, truth be told. But he wants you to know he liked them.

So he chuckles quietly and nods. “Yeah, I uh.. I was actually thinking about getting the patch last time I went in.” he drags a hand through his hair and as the light overhead glints off of his ring, your eye catches on it. You take a sip of your soda and nod.

And then Emma, because she just has to be a shit, she smirks. “Show him what you got yourself, trouble. Do it. I can’t wait to watch Caroline and her merry band of idiots lose their shit when you wear them. Or when I wear my own stuff.”

You’re giggling. Grinning as you dig around in a bag with the music store’s logo on it. You pluck out a black Metallica shirt and a gray Motorhead one, then a white Motley Crue shirt with the logo done in neon colors. “She never should have told me I dress like a grungy little whore?” you shrug and Gareth laughs.

“She actually said that?” Gareth asks, grumbling to himself about her lack of room to talk.

“Mhm. But it’s fine, totally fine. I mean.. I’m not the one who's been parking with every boy on the football team this summer.” you take a sip as you say it.

“She started a war when she said it, just doesn’t realize it yet.” Cass speaks up, glancing from you to Gareth as Emma interjects, “If she thinks for one goddamn second I’m not gonna take her criticism as an excuse to pull out all the stops, she’s lost her mind. Even Cunningham is sick of her and Chrissy tries to love everybody.”

“Damn.” Gareth laughs.

“We all called it. She got co-captain last year and we all had a sleepover that very night and said it was gonna go straight to her massive head.” you muse. Standing and stretching.

‘Hey, trouble.. We’re gonna go down to that arcade they just opened in here. Max owes me a round of air hockey. And Cass and April wanted to go to that lingerie store, see if they have better quality fishnets for the plan….”

Before Max can protest because she wants to stick around and be nosy and El wants to do that too, Emma has both girls and they’re all rushing away, leaving you alone with Gareth in the middle of the food court.

“What plan?” Gareth asks after a second or two of staring at you. You raise up and fluff at his hair and his breath catches and hangs all over again because this makes you brush up against him. Then you’re giggling and shrugging. “Just watch and see.”

“ Do I even want to know?“ Gareth questions as he steps closer and all the space between you is gone. “You won’t like.. Get in trouble, right?”

“Sir, you are aware that I’m on a first name basis with trouble, right?” you laugh and shake your head no. “I'll probably get laps or get bitched at, but that’ll probably be all that comes of it.” you answer, going quiet.

Eddie spots him and starts to make his way over. And knowing that Eddie has a tendency to just say things without thinking, he is not willing to risk Eddie saying anything that might reveal the crush he has on you that he’s trying to ignore and forget.

“I’ll see you around.” Gareth smiles as he says it, nodding in Eddie’s direction. You smile and nod, winking as you play with the collar of his shirt because you’re distracted and staring up at him again like an ass and you can’t seem to keep your hands to yourself, as usual. “Okay. I’ll see you around.” you step away and start to walk off but you stop and call out to him with a laugh as you do, “Hey, kick ass tonight.. At that game thing?”

Gareth grins and nods. “Yeah., at DnD. I will. Don't hitchhike or anything, got it?”

And as you slink away, disappearing into the lingerie store down from the food court, Eddie clears his throat and nods in your direction, smirking at Gareth. “You did it after all. Good.”

“Actually, she kind of stopped me.” Gareth admits.

Eddie’s brow quirks. “Oh?”

“Yeah.”

He chuckles. “I told you, didn’t I? Absolutely no reason to keep fighting it, Emerson. None at all.”

And whether he likes it or not, Eddie’s little statement just won’t leave him alone or be buried this time.

Eddie notices the pins and the patch and takes them, looking at them.

“She uh.. She gave me those.” Gareth admits, dragging his hand over fluffy curls. Eddie’s mouth drops open and then he’s practically howling in laughter. “Oh my god, Emerson.”

“Fuck you, Munson.” Gareth grumbles, glaring up at his friend as he grabs for them to take them back. "Give me those."

“You’re a special kind of clueless, Emerson. A very special kind. Girls don’t just buy things for us, especially y’know, us” he gestures to himself and then Gareth, “the freaks, without a damn good reason. She likes you. I’m telling you, idiot.”

“There’s no fucking way.” Gareth insists.

“Okay, then explain why she’s got the exact same shirt you own tied around her waist right now, roaming this mall as we speak?” Eddie gazes at Gareth calmly, waiting on an answer. “It honestly looks like one of yours, man. I almost asked you when she got her hands on your shirt.”

“It’s not. So what, she has the same flannel.” and he tries again to shrug it off, push everything his best friend is stubbornly suggesting down as deep as it’ll go.

Eddie grumbles, rubbing his hand over his face. “Forget it, reasoning with you is like reasoning with a brick wall.”

#gareth emerson #gareth the great #gareth emerson imagine #gareth emerson fanfiction #gareth emerson x reader #gareth emerson x fem!reader #// just wait.. it's gonna pick up. + more domesticity type stuff ahead.

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justaswampdemon · 3 years

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The Place You Need To Reach

Finally finished the first chapter of a Buck Begins fic I started...when the episode airs...Biggest of shoutouts to @marjansmarwani for the title help and also all the support and encouragement. You’re the best!

Read it here on AO3

Bobby’s phone rings loud from the night table, waking him with a start. Looking at the clock he groans, 12:45am glaring at him. Whatever irritation he feels is quickly overridden by Captain Mode. He reaches for his phone, already concerned. It skyrockets to worry when he sees Buck’s name lighting up his screen. He’d been worried when they found out Buck’s parents were visiting. The few vague things he’s heard plus what he's been able to piece together did not paint a pretty picture. Then this morning Buck had been waling on the punching bags while Eddie watched with carefully hidden concern. Bobby had hoped that had gotten some of the overwhelming emotions out, helped the kid get back on solid ground, but a call any time after midnight is never a good sign.

“Buck?” He sits up, getting a grumble from where Athena had been tucked against his shoulder. There’s no answer, just shaky breaths barely audible. “Buck what’s wrong?”

Athena rubs her eyes and turns her laser focus on her husband as she wakes up fully.

Another stuttering breath, followed by a sniffle and all the parental warning bells in Bobby’s head are going haywire. “Buck, c’mon kiddo I need you to talk to me here.”

“Bobby…” Buck sounds wrecked, his voice trembling and small. He sounds young and scared and Bobby shares a nervous look with Athena.

“Where are you?” He starts simple, all his first responders training kicking in to get Buck somewhere safe.

“Um...I just kind of started driving…” The pause on the other end of the line is agonizing. “I’m by the pier.”

That sends all kinds of alarms off in his head again. Buck drove to the pier, completely without thinking, and Bobby changes tactics slightly. He doesn’t just need to get Buck somewhere safe, he needs to get Buck here. “Are you ok to get here or do you need me to pick you up?” He’d drive to the middle of nowhere to get Buck if that’s what the kid needed.

“I can drive.” There’s a hint of stubbornness back in his voice, but it does nothing to settle Bobby’s nerves.

“Ok.” Bobby slips into Captain mode, hoping it helps keep Buck focused and present. “I want you to stay on the phone with me, and come straight here. Can you do that?”

Buck takes a few breaths, gathering himself and when he answers he sounds at least a bit more like himself. Athena is already up, changing into lounge clothes and grabbing her phone. “Yeah Cap, I can do that.”

He nods, more to himself, “good job Buck. You stay with me alright? You don’t have to talk, just listen to my voice and focus on driving.” Grabbing a sweatshirt and his slippers, he tucks the phone against his ear. Buck is so quiet, it’s possibly the longest the kid has gone without talking, especially to Bobby. He always has an obscure fact to share, knowing his Captain was always interested. Sometimes they were ridiculous, or it was something Bobby already knew, but they had bonded over loving weird facts. The way Buck had lit up when he realized Bobby was actually interested had firmly placed him in Bobby’s heart.

Making his way into the kitchen he sees Athena putting the kettle on, kissing her cheek and getting a supportive one armed hug. “How we doin Buck?”

“Almost there.”

“Ok, you’re doing good.” There’s another shaky exhale, and something close to a sob breaking from Buck’s throat. “Hey did you know Einstein issued the patent for Toblerone chocolate?” He doesn’t wait for a response, knows the words don’t matter as much as just having Buck hear his voice. “He was working at the patent office as a way to occupy his brain while figuring out equations.” He keeps offering up facts as he opens the front door. As soon as a familiar jeep parks behind his truck he hangs up.

He meets Buck half way, taking in the hunch of his shoulders and the way he avoids meeting Bobby’s eyes. Wrapping an arm around him he guides the kid inside and gets him settled on the couch.

Athena presses a cup of tea into his hands, sitting next to him with a gentle hand on his arm. Buck deflates at the contact, still not meeting either of their eyes. “What happened Buckaroo?”

Buck’s quiet, mouth twisting and leg bouncing. They give him time, let him gather his thoughts. “I was doing so good...I was getting better and in two dinners they’ve just…undone it all.” He breaks off into a sob and Bobby is moving before he realizes it, sitting on Buck’s other side and pulling him into his arms as Athena takes his mug from shaking hands. Buck falls apart in front of their eyes, years of hurt finally breaking free. “They never...they never cared. When they’d look at me it was like they were staring right through me, they’d barely acknowledge I was there unless I was hurt or I fucked up…then they’d have to look at me…but I was never enough and I tried.” He sounds almost pleading as he chokes the words out through tears. “Bobby, I really tried to be good enough for them to love me and all they could say was how difficult I made it...how difficult we made it for them. I just wanted them to love me and instead they gave up on me.”

“Buck you listen to me right now. You do not have to earn your parents love.” Athena holds his face in her hands, trying to get him to look at her. “Kids are difficult. That’s just called being a kid. Our job as parents is to love our kids no matter what. We love you, no matter what, and we are so so proud of the man you are.”

His eyes meet Athena’s for a moment and then go blank again. A harsh laugh grates out of his chest, “they never even wanted another son...they never wanted me.”

“Buck, what do you mean another son?” Bobby tries to think back on what he knows about Buck’s family, but as far as he’s heard it’s just him and Maddie.

Bobby lets him free of the hug as he tries to get the words out. “I had a brother…he was older and he got sick. They needed bone marrow and no one else in our family was a match.” The pieces fall into place and Bobby wants to vomit. Buck was a savior baby, and like he could hear Bobby’s thoughts he closes his eyes against fresh tears. “They had me for parts. But it didn’t work and Daniel died…and they were stuck with me when I’d already failed to do the only thing I was made for.”

Over where Buck has hunched back over, hiding his face in his hands, Athena and Bobby share a shocked and horrified look. Without hesitating Athena wraps him in a protective hug, eyes fierce even as her voice murmurs comforting nonsense. On the table Bobby’s phone rings, a quick glance showing Eddie’s calling. Bobby places a steady hand on his back, “I’m guessing Eddie’s looking for you? Do you want me to tell him where you are?”

Without moving from the safety of Athena’s arms Buck nods and lets out another choking sob. “I was supposed to come over for movie night…After I left Maddie’s I just sort of, I don’t know I guess I checked out. I don’t even know what time it is.” Suddenly he sits straight up, eyes wide. “Shit! I missed movie night! And it’s probably the middle of the night and I woke you up and—”

Before he can work himself into a full panic Bobby squeezes his shoulder. “It’s ok Buck, we’re here for you whenever you need us. Don’t worry about what time it is.” Internally he’s trying not to let the terror of Buck so out of it he completely lost himself cloud his mind. He needs to keep a clear head, needs to be the steady rock Buck is searching for. “Now do you want me to tell Eddie you’re here?”

“He’s worried I bet…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry him.”

Grabbing his phone Bobby stands and sees multiple missed calls from Eddie and Chimney, “he’ll understand just like we do. We’re all here for you Buck, you’re not alone.” Athena hands Buck his tea, coaxing him to take a few sips while he calls Eddie back. After one ring it picks up and Eddie’s frantic voice fills his ear. “Cap, we can’t find Buck. I don’t know what happened when he went over to Chim and Maddie’s but she’s almost inconsolable and Chimney is flipping out. He won’t answer the phone and he was supposed to come over. Albert said he never went back to the loft either…”

Quickly he steps outside, not wanting Buck to hear how scared Eddie sounds, it would only make him feel worse. “Eddie, take a breath, Buck is here.” He’s about to say that Buck’s alright but there’s no way Eddie would buy it. “He’s here and he’s safe. We’ve got him.”

There’s a sigh of relief and no small amount of swearing in Spanish. “Ok…ok good. I’ll text Chim and let him know.” A pause and then a little quieter, “do you know what happened?”

“His entire world just got turned upside down, it’s not my place to say any more than that…but he’s going to need us, need you, more than ever.” Glancing inside he sees his wife pulling Buck to lean against her again, a strong arm around his shoulders.

“Whatever he needs.” Eddie says simply, a little bit of calm working through his voice now that he knows Buck is safe. “Can Christopher and I come over tomorrow?”

“Of course, I’ll make breakfast.” Thank god they’re off shift tomorrow, Bobby has no idea how they’d manage to convince Buck to take the day off. The kid would almost immediately take it as a sign he’d done something wrong. So much of his behavior, his actions, are suddenly making sense and Bobby would very much like to have strong words with Buck’s parents. “Get some rest Eddie, I’ll call you if anything changes but we’ll see you in the morning.”

“Right, thank you Bobby.”

“Of course Eddie, take care of yourself and get some sleep.” Bobby hangs up and walks back inside and immediately Buck’s eyes shoot to his. “He’s not mad Buck, he’s just worried about you. I told him to bring Christopher over for breakfast.”

Buck looks completely drained as he sags with relief. His eyes are red and puffy and exhaustion radiates from every line of his body. With a quick squeeze Athena stands, “I’ll get the guest room all set up for you.” Buck looks like he’s about to apologize and Bobby’s heart breaks. “Don’t you dare apologize,” Athena says firmly. “You’re not being any trouble and we want you here. I know I’ll feel better if I know you’re here safe and sound.”

“Thank you…” Buck smiles at her, still subdued but genuine. Athena pauses to kiss the top of his head before heading down the hallway. Bobby takes her place on the couch and can’t help wrapping an arm around Buck in another protective hug. “I think you and Athena have hugged me more tonight than my parents have in my whole life…” Buck admits and Bobby wants to smack some sense into these people.

Anyone who’s spent more than 15 minutes with Buck can tell he thrives on physical contact. He takes every opportunity to be close to the people he loves. It’s the most obvious with Eddie, who’s always accepted Buck into his personal space even before they started to slide from friends to more, but Buck is quick with his affection and gets this almost surprised glee when he gets some in return. He soaks up love like a sponge and now they know why.

Athena comes back a few minutes later, giving them a fond look. “What do you think kiddo? Wanna try and get some sleep?” Bobby asks, rubbing a hand over Buck’s back.

“Yeah…I’m pretty drained Pops.” Together they stand up from the couch and follow Athena through the hallway.

“I put a pair of Bobby’s sweat pants and a sweatshirt on the bed.” Athena hugs him again, managing to tuck him against her so Buck looks small in her arms. He sniffles a little and steps back with a twist to his mouth.

Giving him a supportive pat on the shoulder, Bobby smiles at him. “We’re at the end of the hall if you need us.” Buck surprises him by reaching out and wrapping his arms around Bobby, squeezing tight before stepping back with a nod. “Thanks again…Goodnight.”

“Goodnight Buckaroo.” Athena smiles and grabs Bobby’s hand as they head to their room. They hear the door shut just as they shut their own and Bobby’s shoulders sag. Athena on the other hand starts pacing, eyes stormed over. “No wonder he was like that when he first came here. It was probably the only way he thought he could get any attention…we see it all the time with neglected kids.” Suddenly she pauses, spinning to face Bobby. “And Maddie! They probably made her keep it a secret…that poor girl had to just ignore that her brother had died and become a parent to the other one.”

Bobby rubs his hands over his face. “Eddie said she’s beside herself…inconsolable is the word he used…”

“I’ll call her in the morning and check on her.” Athena decides, finally crawling back into bed. Joining her under the covers, Bobby pulls her into his arms and takes comfort in the way she grips him just as tight. It’s a long time before they manage to fall asleep.

Buck leans against the door as it shuts. He feels…empty isn't the right word. More like he's been hollowed out and filled with cotton stuffing, nothing left in him but lumps and cheap fiber. Pulling his wallet and keys out of his pocket he tosses them on the night table, pausing as he pulls his phone out next. He turns it over in his hands as he sits on the bed, debating turning do not disturb off or ignoring the shitstorm that's probably growing in his notifications.

Taking a deep breath he sets it down and changes into his borrowed pjs. The sweatpants are a little big but actually long enough for once, and the sweatshirt is just loose enough it wraps him in comfort. Curling up under the blankets, Buck lets the feeling of safety wash over him. Snatching his phone from where he’d set it on the table he checks his battery life. It’s low but enough for him to pull up his recent calls and quickly select Eddie’s name.

It’s only two rings before the line picks up, “Buck?”

“Hey Eds…”

“Buck, baby are you ok?” Eddie goes from groggy to awake in a heartbeat and Buck closes his eyes against the worry staining his voice.

“Not really…no, but I’m better than I was.” He’s too tired to pretend right now, breath hitching, “I’m so sorry Eddie…I know Christopher is probably mad at me and I’m sure you are too 'cause I let him down and I didn’t mean to worry you…”

“Hey hey hey, it’s ok Buck.” Eddie cuts off the frantic apologies that seem to be forcing themselves from his throat. “Take a breath for me.”

There’s no way Buck can resist the softness in his words, following the gentle instructions until his breathing settles down. “I’m not mad Buck,” Eddie continues now that Buck’s not halfway to hyperventilating, “and neither is Christopher. We were worried about you, but you’re somewhere safe and that’s what matters.”

“Did you tell Maddie and Chim where I was?” Buck knows he probably did, he highly doubts they didn’t blow Eddie’s phone up when Buck went radio silent.

There’s a sigh on the other end of the phone, “yeah…They were terrified.” Buck feels a weird mix of guilt and anger flare up, and Eddie reads his mind as always. “I also told them to let you come to them, and to give you some space.” He hears the shifting of blankets before Eddie continues, “I know that whatever happened feels like your entire world just blew up…But remember that me and Christopher are here and we love you. Whatever it was, we'll be right here with you, ok?”

“Ok…I love you both too.” Buck wraps Eddie’s words around him, another layer of warmth under the borrowed sweatshirt. “Hey babe?” Eddie hums in questions. “Can you stay on the phone a little longer?”

“Yeah, I’m here Buck, for as long as you need me.”

It’s mostly quiet after that, a few murmured words of comfort and affection passed back and forth, but eventually Buck hears Eddie’s breathing even out and lets it soothe him enough to close his own eyes.

#swamp demon writes #my fic #buddie #firefam #I will always be weak for Bobby calling Buck kiddo

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blankdblank · 3 years

Text

Brother Dearest Pt 68

State vs Lewis Patzer

“October 31, 1947. Mr Barnham’s mansion, while he threw a costume party in another of his properties and upon a search that several priceless gold statues along with gem accented decorations were taken along with a solid ruby/ivory/ebony piano and a variety of black market paintings and marbles. Almost all of the black market pieces were returned to the museums and exhibits they were stolen from. The gem based goods are still missing. All the portraits and statues were replaced by ones modeled around cats.” The student playing the suspect fought a chuckle while you listened to the rest of the opening statement of the Prosecution Antonio Speltzer in a ploy to paint this absurdly rich person as a victim who was heinously victimized.

Mr Patzer’s Lawyer Vernon Dorman stood and took his on turn to bring up how this whole trial was twisted to fulfill a personal grudge against Mr Patzer while there are other suspects who actually could have done this, including his twin Dennis Patzer. And with the conclusion of the opening statements that case was paused to allow the student teams to swap places with the Divorce Case while in the chair you lifted your feet to cross your legs and sit up straighter when one of the girls started to press into your spine to guide them more forward into your belly.

Schmidt vs Schmidt

For the husband Emil Mr Felton stood to call up the first character witness for their case to try and sway your impression of the two people who hoped to gain what the wanted and needed in this division of assets and custody.

Ray Schwartz – Age 32 atop the stand sat and as best friend to the husband made his loyalty known in a slew of statements as for what he had heard and supposedly witnessed upon her failure as both wife and mother. Compared fully to the elder Mrs Schmidt and how she was the pinnacle role model mother and wife for the husband to aim for in a wife for himself.

Dan Vallier – Age 42, the former boss of Mrs Schmidt in the gallery she once was employed while you made a few pretend notes to the student playing up his testimony that she couldn’t keep up with the job. Of course you could hear from the details that it was her focus on her son’s activities and health that had kept her from jumping to the Boss’ every beck and call that landed her out of his employment. Which had the male student for the husband smirk in believe that the male pretend wife had been made openly a pitiful financial provider for their young son.

Lee Hogue in the excuse of Mr Vallier began his own call for the first two character witnesses for the pretend Mrs Schmidt. Irene Moses – Age 23 was called up and delved amusingly into several tales of how in her former relationship with Mr Schmidt who dumped her for an even younger woman with whom he was to be soon hopefully wedded. From broken property, his outbursts and continued possessive letters that she is still receiving years after their break up.

Leslie Welch – Age 24, former driver to her and their child shared a trio of tales when he witnessed the husband degrading his wife and being lost into a deep dependence upon alcohol that has drawn a new side out of Mr Schmidt that is rather despicable and cruel to those around him who do not control his paycheck. As he shared that around fellow employees or bosses he can put on a calm exterior and paint himself with a friendlier brush.

A couple exams and an open Saturday granted you some work on a new part for your tv you made that in the middle of the next page of the translation you moved onto next to keep from using too much energy you drifted off and woke up to a lunch under a blanket in a nest of pillows the guys had nestled around you. Talks of the house next door came up with Gina and her husband who talked with Eddie on more plans through the meal you struggled to focus on at the lack of a comfortable position to be found. Sharp and clear the drop of your fork to the plate turned heads to you and brought James back from the kitchen without the refill on your drink he’d gone to fetch. His hand right over your back while your hands folded around the arms of your chair in a pained inch back in your seat, “Breathe out Bunny,” Gina said in a pop up to take your free side and gently laid a hand over your still supple belly. “Just breathe out, nice and slow.”

Slow and steady you exhaled and James said, “That wasn’t labor.”

Gina shook his head and said, “No, belly’s not hard.” Shakily you inhaled through the receding wave of pain that had radiated from your hips and said in a lock of your eyes on his, “Just your first Braxton Hicks. Just a check of your muscles.”

Sharply you exhaled and said, “You know if it feels like this why don’t all the girls do this? So much fun,” you said making her chuckle and reach up to fix your bangs that fell in your face.

“I’m going to get you some more pickles, baby corn and beets. Mine always relaxed when I snacked extra.”

Sharply you exhaled again to James’ next stroke of your back while you somehow suddenly came upon a comfortable sort of hunch forward and lifted your fork again saying, “You were saying, about the green tile.” Tentatively attention went back to the house and when he had confirmed Victor would watch you in the few moments away James did fetch your drink and remained fixed at your side to ensure your comfort for the rest of the day.

All through your return to the nest to do more translations until up in bed you laid out after a few more gentle pecks from your worried husband who in his trip to turn off the light turned to eye you on the bed in a soft huff. Hastily he flipped the switch and came back to bed and eased up on it behind you asking, “Are you in pain?”

“I’m an inch too low,” you sighed and he chuckled and leaned in to curl a hand below your thighs to glide you just a bit higher inside your nest that had you settle in more comfortably. “Thank you.”

“You are welcome.” And sweetly behind you he cuddled close, pleased that your extra metal insulation in the walls had kept the house cool in this humid spring so that he could cuddle up to you still without causing you to warm up too much and send him away. Under your stolen shirt from his supply he slid his hand to stroke your belly in the close of his eyes to confirm for himself with all his focus that his babies were not coming out early and would wait the few more weeks left to the finish line for a private birth in your home your family would fix up the final details upon your return.

“I suppose Herc will be interested to know about my pain earlier. Finally have something more than a bruise to question him about.”

A bit more he wiggled his forehead to rest fully into your hair against the back of your head to the kick against his palm, “I doubt he has been bored in seeing to you and our girls.”

“I just mean, 48 weeks pregnant, and nine weeks left finally something to get his blood pumping.”

That had him chuckle, “You didn’t see him pop in the middle of our house to share you’d been scared by an owl when ever we got tingles something happened after the Twins gave the all clear on danger. Plenty of blood pumping moments.”

You sighed again and asked, “What happens if I keep having triplets? One set after the other?”

“We’ll have to build another wing onto the house. But however our babies come in whatever groups they choose to arrive in I will do all I can to help you. I wish I could do more.”

“You’re amazing,” you sighed again and said to the pull of your leg up that lifted his head.

“Foot cramp again?” You nodded and after a gentle press of his lips to your cheek he sat up and slid down taking the covers with him to rest your foot on his lap to cradle it and massage the odd cramp in your foot that had been on and off since your false contraction earlier. “At least Herc will be by after Mass.” Again you sighed making him grin at the sight of you with brows furrowed to the cramp that had him start to hum to you while he massaged your foot and lower leg gradually lulling you to sleep.

It almost seemed to have come full circle, at the uncertain beginning when there was no idea three babies were growing inside of your belly now with almost five pound babies safely growing stronger by the day again naps and sleep were paramount in this stressful town. And he knew that much like over the Winter when you magnificently had begun to show and they had grown impressively in that peaceful free time he knew could change the back end of this pregnancy for you. Not just free from the eyes of the press but well within the chance to have your parents there to fill those gaps of support he and the others couldn’t fill while Herc was available to come up and stay for daily checks if needed. And when he felt your legs were at ease he settled down again around your back to slip into his own dreams of what was coming.

Spare inches on the now oddly shinier belly you stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom with your head tilted through a turn from side to side. The impressive bubble shape a bit less pointed from the stretched area where your babies began to stretch out more had you tell James in his step to your side from the toilet nook he turned away from after having flushed a moth he found in your closet. “I look like someone coated me in butter.”

Softly he chuckled and said after a kiss of your temple, “You look fantastic.” Still smiling from a candid photograph he had taken earlier when you were changing out of his stolen clothes to add to the collection. Back from your side he collected the pants you wanted to wear he helped you step into after you’d changed your underwear and added some padding to your bra in case of some leaking of the milk you started to dribble. A blouse was next to add and be settled underneath the straps of your pants. “Only means the babies are growing and you with them.”

“From the side I look like a snake that ate a beaver.” Unable to help it he chucked and leaned in to kiss you on his lips sweetly and then bent to add your socks and your sneakers.

“You do not.” Up again he stood and guided you to the bathroom where he helped to comb out your braid he helped to work the top half of your hair back into a clip so your hat would sit nicely while the rest of your curls hung loosely down your back. Rain sounds grew louder on the way down and after a light breakfast in the cars you drove off to the Mass lit by candlelight followed by another meeting with Herc.

This time it was a great deal more focused upon checks of your hips and pelvis, these done in one of the spare rooms for more room for use of a new device that cut out another worrisome intrusive internal exam. Checks of blood pressure with a bulb activated pump were followed by a prick of your finger for a drop of blood to be added to a solution in a small vial he settled inside a lemon sized cube device.

Over that a full readout of the results were projected and you asked to his focused expression, “Is that good?”

“Oh yes, I would suggest some more pickles though. Your girls are using a good bit of your iron.”

Eddie popped up, “Pickles, on it,” and hurried to the kitchen.

Herc said with a grin, “Again, the tests are all good, your pelvic floor as well is growing more elastic which is a good sign at this stage. The hips as well, nice and cushioned for when they shift in labor.”

You nodded and asked at the still projected results, “What is all that?” Spreading his grin to shift the projection so you could read it properly while he explained it all and how it showed your progress and the girls’. You nodded and asked timidly, “You um, so you don’t have to do any, internal exams?”

Kindly he gave you a grin to James’ pat on your back, “No, thankfully with our kin we require that usually only on the day of labor to gauge progress or to shift the position of the babies. I understand that first exam was quite unsettling to you when that Nurse examined your ovaries.” You nodded and he gently patted your hand rested on the bed beside you, “I will not cross that boundary of your comfort until necessary and only with your permission and full disclosure of the reasoning. I do understand there is quite the common notion that your body is no longer your own in pregnancy,” he nodded as you did in a fight against tears that misted into your eyes. “This is your body and I will always respect that. There is always time to explain things even in emergencies, a great deal of Doctors forget that compassion when treating patients these days when we see things so pragmatically in search of diagnosis or cure of ailments.” You nodded again and smiled to Eddie in his lowering a full try of snacks to the bed he eased off of to rest beside you, “For now, leg and foot exam while you snack and I will check your levels again in a bit.”

A couple of contractions when your exam was through had Herc shift his focus to her and her baby girl who through him made it clear that she was ready to come out in the next few days that allowed the brood to plan accordingly for the sudden arrival. The family dinner that followed granted you a chance to hand over a gift to her just in case she went into labor while you were at school, a crank fed mobile that played a lullaby like the one she had been pining over for years when she had a baby girl of her own. Tearfully she gave you a hug and confirmed that you hadn’t spent the ridiculous sum that the magazine she’d seen it in listed it for and squealed excitedly as her husband promised to install it when they got home over the crib to have it ready.

State vs Lewis Patzer

Antonio Speltzer stood across from the Detective Nathaniel Madison, Age 43, who delved into the whole process of the investigation of the case and then delved into the identification of Mr Patzer as the suspect who was behind the robbery.

And when Mr Speltzer sat down and representation for the Defense Vernon Dorman stood and adjusted his jacket buttons and asked his first few questions and then finished off with what he hoped to be his zinger. “Detective Madison, is it not true that Jacob Shea, who you credit the naming of Mr Patzer as the prime suspect, named him in the process of negotiating a plea deal on his own pending felony charges?”

Detective Madison cleared his throat and said, “Yes, we were discussing his plea deal when he brought it to our attentions.”

Vernon Dorman answered, “No further questions, Your Honor.”

Cecilia Marsh – Age 39 came next with the Prosecution who displayed a variety of blown up copies of several art pieces that she priced and named. A few which you corrected the dates in the notes and made a few people in the crowds smirk at your unknown mouthing of the proper dates, including the author, Clifford Adler, of the case who made note to check those dates later to correct in the notes for the case. And had to smirk at the pictures of the replacement pieces of artwork all themed after cats.

Vernon Dorman at the end of the initial questioning stood to say, “No questions, Your Honor.” And he sat again for the next witness to be led up as the prosecution gathered up the pictures and Officer Graham left the easel for the blueprint of the Mansion brought out for the next witness.

Jimmie Feigel – Age 28. Head security guard in charge of that property was asked several questions on his usual tasks and pattern of patrol and then questions of the discovery of the theft came next which the Defense expanded on by clarifying that even in the absence of goods there was no sign of who might have committed the crime or even how they had gotten in or out.

Jacob Shea – Age 43. A Mobster who testifies in deal for pending case that he’d seen one of the twins at a bar planning the heist and at a pool hall gaining a crew to pull it off. Hinting coercion of identification by the Defense digging more into the details of how the identity of the suspect was brought up eventually bringing to light there was a supply of pictures laid out for him to choose from when the Detective swayed the questioning from his own Felony charges to the robbery. An admission that had the crowd buzzing all through the switch over for the next case.

Schmidt vs Schmidt

Ben Lynch – Age 51, a licensed Psychiatrist. Atop the stand was halfway through his statement of how he was approached in the planned testimony that Mr Schmidt had approached him and shared about his wife to see what sort of mental problems she might be suffering from to solidify his grounds that she was unstable.

“Mr Lynch,” to the cease of the silent taps of your pen atop your notepad you felt his eyes shift to land on you with brows raised and you asked, “Did you just say that Mr Schmidt approached you and filled you into this whole situation?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” he answered and you tapped your pen on the notepad again.

“Have you ever spoken to Mrs Schmidt?”

“No, Your Honor,” he said and stole a glance at Billie Bretz, the author of the case over the shoulder of the pretend concerned Mr Schmidt’s shoulder.

“Have you ever met Mrs Schmidt?”

“No, Your Honor.”

“Alright, then I’m going to have to excuse you.”

“Okay,” he said and stood to return to follow Officer McTavish who smirked guiding him back out to the hall before the next witness would be brought in.

Mr Schmidt’s Lawyer Mr Felton asked, “Your Honor?”

“I will not accept any diagnosis from any Medical Professional who has not personally consulted the supposed afflicted party. And had Mrs Schmidt spoken to him without the grounds of a criminal mental inquiry said testimony would be inadmissible in court as well even with the permission of the Husband to share her confidential information shared with Mr Lynch unless she had threatened to harm someone or herself. And then that would be heard in grounds of a criminal case not a Divorce Hearing.”

“Fair enough,” Mr Felton said that had his pretend client shift his hands in a ‘what the hell’ motion he could only shake his head at while the judges of the case made note of your decision and reasoning.

Estelle Warner – Age 21. Assistant who says she demands gifts and is bad with and is after money came next and had you pretending to take notes to keep from rolling your eyes through the fruitless testimony.

Where you had to keep from rolling your eyes you had to keep from laughing when the next student came up to represent the 20 year old current mistress, Wilhelmina Adler. Who was called in favor of the current Mrs Schmidt who ends up admitting in the line of questioning by Lee Hogue in favor of his client that brought out her pattern of dating well off men. Ending with a glaring statement that she has the impression that Mr Schmidt’s son Daniel could ruin things between the both of them and their happiness.

Leonard Frisbe – Age 39. Tutor for young Daniel came with a share on both environments the child was residing in, and while the father’s home was more spacious his mother’s home came with a parent who took part in the studies of the child to help him understand topics that came difficult for the tutor to get him to understand.

With a nod you flashed him a smile and said, “Thank you Mr Frisbe, you are excused.” He nodded and strolled out and you called the case for the day to meet again in two days for the next step in the process.

More exams and handwritten essay prompts filled your Tuesday while you sat to the side in separate desks while your Professors ensured that more of the final assignments were crossed off their grade books to finalize your credits before the month was up. Jointly along with a note from the Dean of Barnard and Columbia they stated that the first week of April was the solidified date that you would be graduating this semester as a sort of firm support of you and this next step of your pregnancy to grant some highly required rest from all of the public press. All around the dinner table at least that letter gave a solid date to be spread through the family to plan accordingly.

State vs Lewis Patzer

Vernon Dorman for Mr Patzer’s defense called up the first witness and began with Matilda Patzer – Age 54, his grandmother who was with him and his Grandfather as well as the night when the goods were returned. While you hoped to throw out the case a few details were a bit too shaky for you to do so when the Prosecution cross examined her.

Charity Patzer – Age 22 was next and also was a hair away from being worthy of throwing out the case when she stood as his alibi for Halloween night.

Ralph Adler – Age 27 was next and while the Prosecution used the fact that there are identical twins involved was used to fight the alibis was used against the Prosecution’s case with a doubled down attack that the Detective had a deep seeded grudge against Lewis Patzer since he did not return the affections the Detective’s daughter had for him. Buzz worthy testimony the Prosecution could not shake that gave way to the final witness before the closing statements.

Lawrence Barnham – Age 45, the victim of the case was called next and took the stand to play what the files had him as a living airhead of an heir to a fortune with little to offer the world beyond his pocketbook withdrawals. All of which brought little sympathy from anyone when his ploy to state he had lost dear things to him, and while it made a tiny dent in his overall fortune did not leave him any worse for wear aside from hurt feelings.

Schmidt vs Schmidt

Once everyone took their seats after a bathroom break for you to the group you flashed a quick grin and said, “I realize the both of you are hoping that after all of the character witness testimonies that I could decide everything for you and wrap it up in a nice bow for you. However I have a few more questions and information I need from the both of you.” Both sides nodded and you asked, “Mr Schmidt, how many hours do you work?” he answered the question and then shifted in his seat as you asked, “And while you work when you have custody of your son who watches him?”

“I have a nanny.”

You nodded and made a tick mark next to that question on the list you had noted to ask later and asked, “And in or out of your custody how many school events do you go to?”

“Um,” he said and wet his lips, “I go to the occasional game when I can with my job.”

“Fair enough,” you said and made a tick mark on the list and asked, “And how much savings do you have set away for Daniel for schooling or emergencies?”

Your eyes landed on him in the draw of his pretend smug attitude in saying to a nudge of his elbow into his lawyer’s, “I make more than enough with my job to not need savings. And the boy isn’t anywhere near old enough to think on college yet.”

Blankly at him you stared a moment and made him inch back in his seat before you asked the same questions to the male student acting as the wife who while she had basic funds compared to his to draw from she spent more quality time with the boy and never missed a chance to be with him during his school events she assured he made it to.

You nodded and said “I would like to speak to Daniel,” and Officer Browen grinned as you said, “Officer Browen would you escort him in?”

To the hall he went and heads turned to watch the anxious preteen who was the stand in nine year old son that smiled and poked is brother’s arm on the way to the stand where he made sure to flash you a glimpse of the Venom and Battle Bunny comic in his hand. To your smile he settled into his seat and listened as you said, “Now, Daniel, I know this is a bit confusing but I just have a few questions for you to make sure that I have all the details and perspectives.”

He nodded and into his schooling and clubs he shared the memorized details and those he stole glances at his script of his life tucked inside the comic book to answer your questions. Sharing fully that he loved school and his clubs and was an active and happy child who seemed to be adjusting well to the two new household situation even though he might wish his dad would be around more. “What do you think of the new two home situation? Do you feel happier?”

The preteen after a glance at his sheet said, “My parents fight less, and even though Dad doesn’t come to many of my games or meets when he’s not around his new girlfriend he does spend more time with me.” Then he added, “I would like to spend more time with my mom though, usually I spend most of the time with a nanny at dad’s visits when he works.”

You nodded and said, “Well thank you for answering my questions, and if you don’t mind following Officer Browen again your parents should be out in a little bit.” He nodded and smiled in his pop up for a relieved sort of bounce to the hall past his grinning brother who was proud of his baby brother’s successful role in this trial.

And in his absence when the Officer Browen went back to his spot you adjusted yourself to face the parents and said, “As far as the primary custody is concerned I am awarding that to Mrs Schmidt.” Jaws dropped in the crowd and the students at the tables inched up in amused shock as you clarified, “Parenthood is more than money and for all of the houses and hired staff to watch after your son Mr Schmidt he is a kind hearted bubbly boy with big dreams and solitude and distance can only crush that without proper guidance and reinforcement. I will leave the aspect of dates to decide visitation between your Lawyers, however I have a list of information that I will sort through to the details of your assets to ascertain the proper financial support to be granted as child support.”

After a pause you stated, “And amongst the division of dates for visitation I would like the both of you to draft up your wills.” That had their lips part and you said, “We will continue this hearing on Friday.” And you brought down the gavel casting the courtroom in an amused and stunned moment of confusion in your rise and stroll out with the amused General behind you.

Assets present/future

Property/Bank information

Child’s activities and school records

Prenup or postnup

Husband’s work habits

Wife’s possible income, former assets

Possible child support and alimony

All from the evidence boxes were compiled at home and would be consulted later when you got home to mark up the financial settlement while the pretend divided couple would spend the next class they had off to work out with their pretend Lawyers to mark up dates to spilt monthly with holidays divided or agreed to be celebrated together. The wills confusingly were drafted up by means of a textbook they got from the library to know how to write it up with details filled in from the evidence given and typed up for a less shoddy version to be brought into the final hearing on Friday when they hoped the case was to be closed.

“You asked them to make wills?” was whispered through the halls and they continued on excitedly to gossip and guess on your plans to see if they will be right about them when Friday rolled around. The same question that was echoed when you returned home and sat with the notes to compile them all as you used the guys as sounding boards for what you had decided.

Just two weeks were until your trip and through the home small bits were being tucked away in trunks and suitcases to be driven back to Canada to simplify the final tings to grab the day of the move. Absolute neutrality was an odd mood that washed over you and across the main floor you paced and did a few odd stretches along the way that had the guys peer between doorways more than a bit confused by their tries to hint they had your usual nesting spots ready for you that had failed.

Reinforcements sent in the form of a pouting toddler with a ball in hand had you settled down on a cushion on the floor to play with Teddy until dinner was called for. A meal he tottered off to and with an adorable tilt of your head backwards to glance at Victor with a chuckle he squatted to take hold of your upper thighs on your legs you unfolded and planted to help you up once your hands had settled behind his neck. James’ hand extended to claim yours for the walk to eat after having set down the camera to capture that moment and gladly after you had eaten your fill a bath and early night in let them relax.

Closing arguments and the send off of the Jury to deliberate bled to the Divorce Case that had you hand over two copies of the decided arrangements that both sides read along with you while the author of the case smirked taking note of the decisions in the payment plans and custody agreement. Including their decided dates that you signed off on and shared tasks in case of emergency to renegotiate days to skip if one of them was suddenly unavailable to have custody that day.

After that you said, “And I just have one final thing to say before I close this case to you Mr Schmidt. You have no right not to protect your family from the worst case scenario. I know all too well what happens to a mother who loses their spouse and father to their child and now has to adjust accordingly to raise her children alone. And while you might consider nine a huge leap from eighteen if you dropped dead tomorrow your child would be left without any means of support at all. That was the reason for my order to have you write your will, and if you do marry your current flame then I highly suggest re-writing that will to include her and any possible children you might conceive from that union. I would also advise speaking with a financial consultant to begin a savings plan and possible trust for your son that could be set aside for his schooling and remain protected should the worst befall you. Sunny skies today do not negate storm clouds tomorrow. Buy an umbrella and some boots for your son.” You said to the slam of the gavel that had some in the crowd chuckle and begin to clap as you turned to head to the office to simply get out of that room and chair that your body didn’t want to remain fixed upon any longer to final notes being taken by the Judges who collected the copies of your drafted plans for the couple.

For Psychology at least you were able to stand for a bit off to the side of your desk against the wall out of view of mostly everyone but the understanding Professor who calmed on threats of labor when you finally felt relaxed enough to lower into your seat for the rest of the class. Literature however had you arrive to an empty classroom where you read the note that a family emergency had the Professor gone but the TA there with a grin and a special exam in hand to have you complete for a final major credit for the semester for his class. To your usual seat you strolled and accepted the packet to complete then turn in for a short break to browse through one of the courtyards until the Photography club would meet.

Up to the tree where you found the owl from before you peered locked in place only to turn and smile at the Twins who guided you to the club room and would wait to meet you again after to show you to James’ car. And by the time you got home the reason for your discomfort was clear as Ambrose woke the family in the middle of the night when she went into labor and by Saturday morning had a bouncing baby girl to have the family boast about at mass the following day while she got about a week to rest.

Not Guilty would be the words that echoed through the halls while you focused on the course list that you had sent for from the same Alberta Community College that Columbia and Barnard would accept credits for through your summer break to get ahead on your degrees. Some that you would have to attend on campus but others the school at the tolerable distance allowed for weekly visits from a tutor for check ins on your understanding and bi-weekly exams in a program that was meant to aid new mothers specifically in continuing their credits. Quite proudly they meant to welcome the second of the sibling set to grace their campus to take up the courses they had to offer.

And by the time you got to the meeting of the paper your booklet on the Canadian College drew more than a few gazes and Portia smiled asking, “They finally sent the book for your summer classes?”

You nodded calming the young women in the room as you answered, “They’re letting me take a whole chunk of my credits at home, out of the twelve they let me sign up for I have to go on campus for five of them. The rest they’ll send a tutor out to make sure I’m on track and to monitor tests twice a month at the house.”

Portia, “Oh that’s wonderful news. Have you with those Bachelor Degrees in no time.”

Amber asked, “And you’ll be back in September?”

You nodded, “Yes, they’re compact courses in a program for new mothers they are picking up. I think it should go well.”

Another of the young women asked, “And you’ll have time for the birth?”

“Oh ya, I don’t start the at home classes until the end of May and the back half of June I start the on campus classes, so there’s time for me to give birth and get my feet back before I have to head out to the campus, and even that is twice a week.”

The news calmed the group and while you left the room silent smiles behind you were traded in the plan for the first meeting next week to give you an amazing send off to the semester. Schedules to keep over the summer seemed to help and calls from the University had confirmed the best would be chosen and given a non-disclosure contract to not share anything that they would learn about yourself, your family or so much as what color your soap trays were. An odd addition in hopes to have you calmed that the press situation from New York wouldn’t happen in Canada and you would be given a semblance of privacy and heaps of respect in this difficult time of transition. And all you had to pull from the conversation with your moment of corvid brain was to discuss with the family on what type of soap dishes you all wanted for the numerous bathrooms within the spacious manor.

Pt 69

All –

@sherala007, @mariannetora, @jesgisborne, @knitastically, @catthefearless, @theincaprincess, ggbbhehe4455, @lilith15000, @alishlieb,

Not nsfw(smut) - @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore

X Marvel-Cast - @himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @changlingkhat

Brother Dearest - @thorinanddwalinsdwarrowdam, @swoopswishsward

#Mock Trials End #School #Time with family #New Baby Brock #James Howlett x OC #Victor Creed x Norma Jeane #Eddie Brock x OC #Venom

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grifalinas · 3 years

Text

Batter Up (Working Title) (Chapter 2)

-/-

There was a lot of work to do in getting the front room cleared out, mostly moving things back to the stockroom, though some of the equipment boxes were set in one corner of the kitchen to be attended as soon as it was clean again.

Throughout the day, Samuel and Eddie worked together, first cleaning the kitchen up after Eddie’s disastrous attempt to prove that she could totally be a good baker for the shop!!, just give her a chance to show it!!, and then getting the equipment unboxed and set up. Samuel wouldn’t let Eddie do any of the hookup, once again citing her age and the potential liability if she were to get hurt.

Flint and Radley could hear snatches of their conversation when they passed through the kitchen from front room to stock room and back, exchanging fond looks over Eddie’s endless chatter and Samuel’s low timber when he responded, almost always prompting Eddie into another string of breathless, run-on sentences.

Raphael stopped by the shop late that evening to witness the two signing their contract, and once that was done it was time to call it a night; they all went their separate ways, Flint turning down Samuel’s offer of a ride when he found out the three Meadows (and Jock) were on foot.

“It’s just a few blocks, no big deal,” Flint assured his new partner, waving him away as they headed out into the night.

Raphael walked part of the way with them, having parked in the carpark a little down the road; while Radley and Eddie chattered and compared notes on- what else- the newest addition to their circle, Raphael fell back, Flint falling into step beside her to talk.

“So what do you think of Samuel?” Raphael asked, once she was sure the kids weren’t paying attention.

Flint just groaned in response, long and drawn out. Raphael chuckled and patted his shoulder.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. He’s straight.”

“Seriously?! A man that beautiful practically lands in my lap and I haven’t even got a chance? What kinda monkey’s paw bullshit is that?”

This got another laugh out of his friend. “This dry spell is really getting to you, isn’t it?”

Flint waved that away. “It’s the kids, you know? With Les out of town for the foreseeable future I don’t really have a chance to go out on the pull, and I’m not bringing some drunk rando back to my apartment while they’re around anyway.”

“Well it’s probably for the best, honestly. You shouldn’t go mixing business and pleasure. You and Samuel will be a much better working partnership if you don’t muddy the waters with a sexual liaison.”

“Eh, I guess. Seriously though, how is he single? Straight women have taste too, they must have noticed how gorgeous he is?”

“He was married up until a year ago, actually.”

“Divorced or widowed?”

“Divorced. Between that and the accident, I imagine he hasn’t had much time to start dating again.”

“He has a daughter~” Eddie chirped, falling back enough to hear the tail end of their conversation. “He told me while we were scrubbing. Her name is Rosie and she’s my age and he’s going to take me to meet her and we’re going to be best friends.”

“Oh yeah?” Flint tossed an arm around her shoulders and ruffled her hair just to be irritating. “And if you don’t hit it off?”

“Mr. Bassington says Rosie doesn’t have many friends. So I’m thinking her standards are probably gonna be pretty low, and I can sneak in under the radar.”

“You and Rosie are going to get along very well, I think,” Raphael said. “In fact you might be just the sort of friend she needs.”

“What’s she like?” Eddie asked, as the group came to a stop at Raphael’s motorcycle.

“A little reserved. She’s been a bit sheltered all her life, but she’s a sweet girl- she just needs a little socialization. I’m sure she’ll like you just fine, low standards or not.”

Radley had been silent throughout this conversation, so once they’d parted ways with Raphael and were on their way to the apartment, Flint said, “So what do you think of Sam, then?”

He shrugged. “I’m not sure. When you were giving him his tour it felt like there wasn’t anything right about any of the work we’d done so far, and no consideration that we’ve only been at it a few days or a note that we did get the kitchen cleaned up and set up in that time. And he kept giving orders- you know, saying what we couldn’t do? You’re supposed to be partners but he’s already taking over.”

Flint nodded. That was about what he’d been thinking too, though he was willing to give Samuel time to grow on him. After all, he’d needed him for exactly that.

“Isn’t that what Uncle Flint hired him for though?” Eddie said, echoing Flint’s thoughts. “He was just doing his job.”

“What do you think of him?” Flint asked. “You were the one working with him all day. What kind of impression did he give you?”

“I like him! He’s really nice, he was super impressed when I told him about Jock winning the red ribbon at the dog park show last month and he didn’t even think it was a little disappointing that he didn’t win blue because second place is still extremely respectable and it just means that the dog who did win blue must be super impressive. And then he said that not getting first just meant that Jock and I still had plenty of room to grow and he was sure we’d do even better next time assuming there would be a next time because it’d be super okay if we decided not to do another dog show because of course things like that should only be done if they’re fun and if they’re not fun then we shouldn’t worry about them because Jock is only a pet dog anyway so he doesn’t need any kind of best in show ribbon to be a good boy.”

“If he didn’t run off after spending a day with this chatterbox, I think he’s worth the look-in,” Flint said, fluffing Eddie’s hair again. “His contract’s a two month trial period, by then we’ll know whether he’s a good fit for us and if he doesn’t work out, we won’t be stuck with him for too long.”

“If he doesn’t work out I can still be friends with Rosie though right?”

“Don’t you have any kind of loyalty?”

“I’m going to be loyal to Rosie, I think. I want her to like me.”

“You haven’t even met her yet.”

“Yeah but Mr. Bassington says she likes the Vampire Mummy Werewolf and Shark Teens and Cobalt and Crimson same as I do and she likes dogs and bunnies same as I do and she likes eighties rock and space stuff and museums same as I do and she likes to sew and paint and play the piano and I can’t do any of those things so I think probably we’ll get along really well cause I bet she’ll be interested in stuff I can do that she can’t and he says she can’t bake either so maybe we can learn how to bake together! And be best friends!”

She came to a halt and struck a pose that said, in flashing neon letters, ‘So THERE’. They’d reached their building while she talked; she fell silent when Flint fished his key out of his pocket to buzz them in, but no sooner were they in the elevator than she started up again.

“Uncle Flint, did I hear you say you think Mr. Bassington is handsome?”

“Handsome’s a word for it,” Flint growled. “Yes, I think he’s handsome, which is a crime, cause Raph says he’s straight.” He sighed. “What a waste of a good ass.”

“Dad says you’re not supposed to say stuff like that to us,” Radley reminded him.

“You’re seventeen, you’re old enough to hear swearwords. Just don’t repeat them,” he added belatedly. “Otherwise your dad will kick my ass.”

“I think it’s more because you’re implying the existence of sex as more than just a nebulous thing outside of our reach as teenagers, who we all know are completely unaware of anything pertaining to sex and definitely don’t have sexual thoughts of their own,” Eddie chimed in.

“Oh yeah?” Flint teased. “You haven’t been having sexual thoughts, surely? You, a teenage girl? Perish the thought.”

“Tch, please.” She scoffed and disappeared into the room she shared with her brother when they stayed with Flint, waving a dismissive hand at him while Flint stared after her. He looked to Radley.

“...she’s not sexually active, is she?”

“No, but she’s written a lot of smut fanfiction.”

“Is it any good?”

“It was written by a sexually inactive fifteen year old exploring her sexuality through a safe outlet. Of course it’s not any good.”

-/-

In her room, Eddie was looking very seriously over the selection of comic books she’d brought with her while she was staying with her uncle- not her entire collection, that was at home- and trying to decide which ones that Mr. Bassington hadn’t said Rosie was into that she could potentially interest her in.

She really wanted Rosie to like her. She couldn’t explain why; she had, as her uncle had pointed out, never met the girl, but her father had made her sound like the most amazing girl in the world, and Raphael had said she didn’t have many friends, and since Eddie didn’t have many friends either, it sounded like a match made in heaven.

It wasn’t enough to make Rosie like her; she wanted them to be best best best friends.

(Deep down in her heart, she knew this probably had to do with her own best friend drifting away from her. There was a gap in her soul that only a best friend could fill. But she wasn’t ready yet to process that, so she buried it and set herself to the task of speculating about what Rosie would be like.)

-/-

#this story is supposed to be about samuel and flint but it's rapidly becoming the eddie and deacon show #(y'all haven't met deacon cause i'm a few chapters ahead #but he and eddie are both show stealers #can't wait till they're in a scene together)#(eddie and deacon are ruby and mercury clones though so it's not surprising they're scene stealers)#batter up (working title)#please don't reblog this!#just comments will suffice!

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nighting-gale17 · 4 years

Note

I was wondering if you'd be interested in a prompt I've been thinking about. (So buck isn't a firefighter never was, but eddie is and he gets excepted to 118 at the same time he does in the show. And over little conversions the firefam has with eddie they release that he is married to a guy named buck and has a disabled kid). Bonus points for British buck because I live like two blocks away from were oliver stark grow up, my older sister went to school with him

Thanks for this prompt! It was really cute and tbh I had a lot of fun writing it! So basically, in this fic buck never joined the 118 and tommy is still on the team. Hope you enjoy it!

Feel free to send me more prompts you guys :) I love writing these

5 times eddie mentioned buck and 1 time the team met him in person

[1]

The first time Eddie mentioned his husband was when he first met the team and Chimney caught a glimpse of the black band with a red line on his left hand.

“Hey, man, you married?” Chimney had asked, a curious look on his face.

Hen watched as a lovestruck smile spread across Eddie’s face and he nodded, voice proud as he responded, “Yeah. Going on seven years, now.”

“Wow. Pretty impressive.” Tommy let out a low whistle. “You’ll have to bring her around some time, man.”

“Uh, him. Actually.” Eddie corrected, a nervous yet defensive tone to his voice.

Hen felt a grin spread over her face as she clapped him on the shoulder. “Even better, then. My wife would love to meet the two of you.”

At that, Eddie’s entire stance visibly relaxed and his smile turned genuine. “He’d probably like that.” He perked up even more when Tommy asked if he had any pictures and wasted no time in whipping out his phone and fondly showing off a few pictures of their happy little family.

[2]

The second time Eddie mentioned his husband was when the earthquake hit. Hen had already gotten ahold of her wife and been reassured both her and Denny were safe in the house, just a little shaken up. Eddie had been staring at his phone while they sat in the ladder truck, eyebrows furrowed together in worry.

“Everything okay?” Hen asked, shouting to be heard above the roar of the engine and the sirens blaring through the air.

“Yeah.” Eddie glanced up briefly before staring back down at his phone. “Just trying to get through to my husband.”

“I’m sure he’s fine.” Hen reassured him. “The phone lines are probably just too busy for anyone to get through them.”

He gave her a small smile but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Where’s he supposed to be?” she asked, because some buildings in LA are more earthquake-resistant than others.

“At school with our son,” he said after a minute, his smile softening a little. “He’s a special education elementary school teacher.”

“The school buildings here in LA are the safest place your family could be,” Hen promised as the ladder truck came to an abrupt stop outside of a high-rise. “They remodeled all of them a couple years back. They’re practically indestructible.”

“Thanks, Hen.” Eddie gave her a small smile, looking a little less tense than he had moments before.

“Anytime, Eddie. You’re part of the team, now.” she gave him a cheeky grin before she hopped out of the truck to survey the damage done by the earthquake.

[3]

“Hey, Bobby, can I talk to you for a second?”

Bobby glanced up to see Eddie standing on the other side of the counter, looking a little nervous. “Sure kid,” he put the bowl of meat he had been working on for dinner to the side and wiped his hands off in the sink. “What do you need?”

“I know I’ve only been working here for a few months,” Eddie began, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I was wondering if I could take a few days off in a couple weeks.”

“Is everything okay?” Bobby asked with a small frown. It was a little unusual for Eddie to make this request—he hadn’t taken a single sick day since he started, much less ask for a day off.

“Yeah, no, everything’s great.” He smiled a little sheepishly. “It’s my husband and mine’s wedding anniversary coming up and I wanted to take him someplace special for the weekend. If you can’t give me the time off, I understand,” Eddie rushed to continue, that nervous look reappearing in his eyes. “I know I haven’t exactly been here long enough to—”

Bobby raised his hand, cutting Eddie off in the middle of his ramble. “Take the time off, Eddie,” he replied with a fond smile. His heart ached for a minute when he thought about his own wedding anniversary—how excited he always was to spend the day with his wife every year.

Eddie breathed a sigh of relief and gave Bobby a bright grin. “Thanks, Bobby. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem.” Bobby’s smile turned mischievous. “You can thank me by helping me get the rest of dinner ready for the crew.”

“Yes, sir.” Eddie laughed, rolling up the sleeves of his uniform and joining Bobby behind the kitchen counter.

[4]

“So, Hen, you and Karen are going to be— what?” Tommy asked one day, tossing a bite of popcorn into his mouth and grinning proudly when he caught it.

“We’re going to be Sally and Jack Skellington.” Hen informed them, a small smile on her face. “Denny is going to be the skelly-dog, Zero.”

“Chim and I are going baseball players.”

Chimney felt his cheeks flush hotly at the thought of the costumes Tommy had shown him the other day. He was never going to hear the end of it after the part, but, fuck, he had to admit they both looked hot in them.

“What about you, Eddie?” Tommy asked, craning his neck back to peer at Eddie sitting in the reading chair to his left. “What are you and your boo dressing up as?”

“Well, Christopher has been on a Pirates of the Caribbean kick recently,” Eddie admitted, a small smile on his face. “So we’re going as pirates. Buck is, as usual, going all out with this. He started seeing the costumes almost two months ago.”

“He’s sewing them?” Chimney asked curiously, a little impressed.

“Yeah.” Eddie’s gaze softened as he spoke. “He volunteers on the weekend at the children’s hospital to dress up as superheroes to cheer them up. He makes all his own costumes because he insists it’s cheaper for him to make them himself then buy it on the internet.”

Chimney let out a low whistle. “Damn, Eddie. Did you marry a Disney prince or something?”

Eddie let out a groan at that, a smile pulling at his lips. “Don’t say that around him—he’ll start getting ideas.”

[5]

Tommy loves Thanksgiving.

He loved other holidays as well (Christmas held a particularly special place in his heart) but at Thanksgiving, there was so much food.

“I’m telling you, man, stuffing is one of the best dishes.” Tommy insisted, twisting and turning to look at Chimney for back up.

“It’s good.” His boyfriend acknowledged though it lacked enthusiasm. “My favorite is the turkey, though.” he shot Tommy an apologetic look.

“That reminds me,” Bobby cut in before Tommy could reply. “You’re all invited to our home for Thanksgiving this year. Athena insisted and it would be nice to be with everyone outside of work.”

“Yes!” Tommy replied immediately. “We’ll be there. Athena makes the best stuffing…” he sighed, his mouth-watering slightly just at the thought of the sergeant’s cooking.

“You can count us in too, Cap.” Hen answered with a small smile.

“What about you, Eddie?” Bobby asked, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel as he finished washing up the dishes.

“I would love to, Bobby, but Buck and I are hosting my family for Thanksgiving,” he said apologetically. “Buck tends to go a little overboard on holidays. He didn’t have the best childhood growing up so holidays are always a little extravagant at our house.”

“How extravagant?” Chimney asked curiously, his curiosity only growing when Eddie’s smile turned sheepish and he ducked his head.

“Well, I have a lot of family, so we usually have to end up cooking at least two turkeys, not to mention the side dishes. My abuela usually comes over to help but Buck refuses to let me into the kitchen.” he rolled his eyes fondly. “He practically takes over our kitchen for the entire day.”

“Remind me to send you my mashed potatoes recipe,” Bobby told Eddie, a small smile on his face. “I guarantee it’ll make his life a lot easier if he follows that.”

“Thanks, Cap!” Eddie shared his smile. “Mashed potatoes are his favorite so I think he’ll enjoy it.”

“Okay, but, onto the more important question.” Tommy broke in, face serious. “Does he make stuffing?”

[+1]

The first time Hen actually got to meet Eddie’s husband, Evan, or Buck, as they’ve been told he prefers to be called, it was at the annual Christmas party in the station. She’d been chatting with Karen about what color to paint the nursery when she spotted Eddie walking up the stairs with an, admittedly gorgeous, man at his side with an eye-catching birthmark on his left eye and a young boy on his shoulders.

“Eddie!” Hen greeted, smiling as he walked towards them in the kitchen and placed a casserole dish on the counter.

“Hey Hen, Karen.” He smiled, leaning forward and hugging Hen’s wife and placing a friendly kiss on her cheek. “You look radiant.”

Oh no, Hen thought to herself, watching as Karen blinked back tears and hugged Eddie tightly before she let him go. She was extremely emotional from the pregnancy and any time someone complimented her while she was pregnant she just about started bawling. It was as endearing as it was embarrassing.

“This is my husband, Evan, and our son, Christopher.” Eddie introduced them, a proud look in his eyes and a fond smile on his face.

“Hello. It’s lovely to finally meet you both.” Buck said, a friendly smile on his face.

Oh. OH.

If Hen wasn’t so gay she might’ve swooned.

“You’re British?” Karen asked, a note of surprise in her voice.

Buck’s smile turned shy. “I grew up in London—that’s where I met Eddie, when he was overseas during his first deployment.” he turned and looked at Eddie with a lovesick expression on his face. “We kept in touch and started dating when he was on his second deployment. Then I moved here to LA with him.”

“That’s so romantic.” Karen sniffled, leaning her head against Hen’s shoulder.

“Papa, cookies!” Christopher tapped on the side of Buck’s face, pointing to the decorated sugar cookies laying out on the table.

“Yeah, I see them, buddy.” Buck laughed, reaching up to grab Christopher and set him on the ground. “But you can’t have any cookies until after dinner, remember?” he crouched down and stage whispered into his ear, glancing up at Eddie. “But you and I can split one when your dad isn’t looking.”

Christopher nodded, giggling into his hand before Buck led them away, exaggeratedly checking to see if Eddie was looking before nabbing a cookie off the counter and scurrying away towards the couches where the rest of the team was gathered.

“He’s cute,” Hen told Eddie. “Like a puppy.”

Eddie’s reply was lovesick. “Yeah, he is, isn’t he?”

#911 #911 fox #buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buck #christopher diaz #hen wilson #howie han #bobby nash #911 au #i love these two dorks

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missbrightsky · 4 years

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Summertime and Swords

Fics Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Chapter 2: Rhysand

Summertime in Velaris was hot. Sweltering, humid, no relief to be found, hot.

This made it dangerous for the citizens of the city. It was common for our station to be called out on heat exhaustion emergencies. Construction workers, pool patrons, the elderly in their various homes, everyone was subject to the heat of the day.

I woke up ready for more calls to come through until my chief called me into his office.

Today it seemed, I had drawn the short straw and would be doing fire extinguisher inspections at an apartment building at the edge of town. I didn’t mind it too much if it meant that I wouldn’t have to run around answering calls. He gave me a clipboard with the checklist and sent me on my way with an address.

Even though it was just past eight in the morning, the sun was already forcing its heat into the air and ground, turning whatever dew gather overnight into steam. My hair started to curl and dampen in the humidity, sweat beaded on my forehead. I hustled to the subway system, hoping that it would be cool enough there to stave off the oncoming heat.

Two train rides and another sweaty walk later, I was standing outside of the building, double-checking the address. It looked to be about 10 stories high and its once white bricks were stained grey and black from the decades of city pollution. I pressed the button that indicated the landlord for the building and waited. And waited. And waited. I pressed it again, vaguely hoping that he didn’t answer, and I could go get myself a bubble tea from the shop I saw a few blocks away.

Then, through the crackling speakers came a gruff, slightly slurred voice. “Whaddaya want?”

“Hi, sir, I’m here to do the fire extinguisher inspections?” I said bringing out my most polite voice.

The man grumbled something that didn’t make it through the mic and a buzzer sounded, unlocking the door for me.

I pushed past the outer iron door and the interior door to find myself in a dimly lit hallway mostly filled by what I can only describe as a glob of a man. His white wife-beater was stained yellow and brown like he hardly washed it (or changed out of it). Funnily enough, the colors matched his teeth.

“Here’s the apart-burp-ments that need to be inspected,” he shoved a scrap of paper my way, the scrawl just legible.

I scanned the list, looks like only a dozen or so needed to be done. I flinched back as something silver flew at me, catching me in the shoulder and sliding into my hands.

“There are the keys, everyone is at work, no need to knock,” and then fixing me with a surprisingly intense, bloodshot stare, “Hurry up and get ‘em done, you’re cutting into my TV time.” How me taking the keys so he didn't have to accompany me cut into his TV time, I didn’t know but also didn’t argue with him as I set off to find the first apartment.

The first few were easy, the fire extinguishers either in plain sight or under the sink. I even got to pet a friendly cat which was curious as to what I was doing in their home.

The fifth one on my list changed my life forever.

Unlocking the door, I stepped into an apartment that was hot. Cutting a glance over to the window unit, I saw that it was off. Maybe the tenant was trying to save on electric while they were at work.

The second thing I noticed was that any free space in the place was taken up by paintings or painting supplies. Large and small, bright and dark, there were pieces everywhere. The few closest to me were of the big park in the middle of the city. I recognized the waterfall that I visited on my days off, it lovingly rendered by a careful hand.

Gorgeous paintings aside, I was resolved to get this one done as fast as possible because the heat in here was starting to get unbearable. Turning, I immediately banged into a table that I didn't see, sending some brushes clattering over each other. Whoops. I scooped them up and placed them in their original place before turning to the kitchen to find the fire extinguisher.

That’s when my life went sideways.

Literally.

One moment I was on my feet and the next I was on the ground with a bruise forming on my side and a battle cry echoing in my ears. Or maybe that was my own scream.

Twisting to see what the fuck just hit me, I froze, every thought in my head eddying out.

A woman just hit me.

A naked woman with wide blue eyes and a sword just hit me and knocked me on my ass.

“Fuck.” We both said.

She sounded absolutely mortified. At what, I didn’t know because she was beautiful. Her body was lithe but not skinny. Curves in all the right places but it was her face that was the true masterpiece.

Graceful cheekbones with adorable freckles sprinkled across. Blue eyes that could have been gray were stretched wide open along with a full mouth that was still parted in horror.

Oh, maybe she was mortified because she had just attacked someone with a sword while naked. And I was staring like a creep.

That mouth opened and closed, absolutely lost for words.

“Your landlord let me in so I could inspect your fire extinguisher.” Really? That’s the first thing you say? Not ‘I’m sorry’ or ‘holy shit you’re beautiful’ or LITERALLY ANYTHING ELSE?????

“Ah,” was all she said in response before disappearing back into what was probably her bedroom.

I almost blurted ‘come back’ but bit down on my tongue to keep the words from escaping. This woman just went through a traumatic experience and didn’t need me acting like a pervert.

Shock still made my limbs numb. Walking into a burning building? No problem. Rescuing a cat from a tree? Easy. Being knocked to the ground by a gorgeous woman with a sword? My inner weeb took control of my body and rendered me useless.

Either seconds or hours later, I still hadn’t moved from the ground when she reappeared, a pale blue robe now covering her and sword nowhere to be seen.

“Sorry about that, my landlord failed to inform me that they would be doing inspections,” gods even her voice was—stop that!

“I’m sorry,” came out as an accidental whisper, so I tried again louder with, “He told me that no one was home. I should have knocked.” No shit, Sherlock.

The woman grimaced, her lovely mouth turning down. “Yeah, he does that sometimes.”

The words exchanged finally shook the rest of my body from its state of shock and I was finally able to stand up. I watched as she scanned my body, reading the look on her face that seemed to be a mixture of appreciation and disbelief.

I blushed at the frank assessment, those blue eyes stripping me down to my core, and turned away. I lifted my hand and scratched the back of my neck. A nervous tick my mother was never able to stop.

“At least take me to dinner first,” I mumbled nearly under my breath, unable to stop the teasing words in hope to lighten the situation.

“Um, sorry?”

Probably for the best she didn’t actually hear me say that. “Where do you keep your fire extinguisher?” That was much safer territory.

“Oh, under the sink,” she led me to her kitchen and bent over to open up the door. My eyes immediately dropped to where the hem of her robe started to rise up before I forced myself to look away and retrieve the clipboard I had dropped. She’s already been through enough and doesn’t need you staring at her.

I knelt down and took out the fire extinguisher, letting the familiar motions of inspecting it calm my mind and hands.

Tick tick tick my pen made checkmarks down the list. Everything was in order for her’s, so I finished and stood up.

She met my eyes again and held my gaze.

They were spectacular. Not just blue, but the gray I saw before were flecks of it with a tiny hint of green near the pupil. Incredible.

She looked away before I did. I was done and I should have left but something held me there.

“Um, you have a good swing,” trying again to lighten the mood. She was able to put me on my ass with it.

“What? For a girl?” she nearly snapped out. Shit.

“Oh! Uh, no-no,” I stuttered, cursing myself for the stupid comment. “Just like, in general.” I scratched the back of my neck again. Failed again at trying to be normal.

“Oh,” was all she said, still looking away.

“I’m Rhysand, by the way,” might as well try to be friendly then.

“Feyre. I’m sorry again for… before,” looks like we both were struggling with normalcy but after what happened that was to be expected, I guess.

“For bringing me down with spectacular sword moves?”

She jumped, “Um, yeah.”

“Well, I promise not to tell anyone if you promise not to tell the others at the station, they’d never let me live it down.” Truth. Cas and Az would laugh at me all day and into the night and then bring it up every day after.

She snapped her head to look at me, her gaze searching. After a moment, a small grin twisted her mouth into something pretty, “I think I can promise that.”

I offered a smile of my own, and then watched her eyes flicker to my mouth and then away. Interesting.

“Well, I have a few more inspections to do, but I doubt they’ll be as exciting as this one.”

She laughed at that, looking surprised as the chuckle slipped out. It sent me laughing as well.

“No, they probably won’t be,” humor tingeing her voice finally.

Something not of my own volition had me pulling my card from my pocket and saying, “If you ever have any problems with your fire extinguisher, give me a call. And if you don’t…” my eyes sweeping over her body again, praying that I had read her looks from earlier right, “Give me a call anyways.”

She took the card, our fingers brushing and sending tingles up my arm.

“I’ll be sure to do that.”

I gave her an unrestrained smile and was glad to see that she returned the same.

#acotar #feysand #feyre #rhysand #feyre x rhysand #sarah j maas

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inawickedlittletown · 4 years

Text

I’m With You (7/?)

Summary:

Having a crush was nothing to be ashamed of...lying to the family and friends of said crush about being the guy’s boyfriend, that was a whole other problem. When Buck saves the life of Andrew Diaz and accidentally makes a nurse think that he’s Andrew’s boyfriend, Buck soon finds himself lying to Andrew’s firefighter friends/coworkers as well as Andrew’s family including Andrew’s very suspicious and attractive brother, Eddie.

Based on the 1995 movie While You Were Sleeping.

Words: 3,644

Read on Ao3

Masterpost

Previous Chapter

“So, how was it?” Eddie asked.

Buck jumped when he heard his voice and then he turned to look at him. Eddie was standing at the door.

“Sorry,” Eddie said. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

Buck shrugged at him. “I was daydreaming a bit. It gets kinda boring talking to someone that can’t talk back.”

Eddie walked around to sit at Andrew’s other side and he sat down. “And how was it last night?”

“It was okay. Better than I expected, I guess. I liked your parents a lot.”

It had been better than Buck expected. He still had to keep up the lie, but other than that problem, it had been fine. Ramon and Helena had been just as nice as Pepa and Isabel and just like the rest of the family a bit surprised about Andrew having a boyfriend but surprisingly welcoming. They hadn’t even asked too many questions. Although, Buck did have to admit that Christopher took a lot of the attention off of him by being adorable. All in all, he’d had a good time, and the guilt about the lying hadn’t hit him until he was getting back to his house.

“That’s good,” Eddie said and he did genuinely look relieved.

“Were you worried about it?” Buck asked, curious because he hadn’t expected that.

Eddie didn’t meet his eyes. Instead he was looking at Andrew again. “I — I didn’t know how well my parents would take finding out about you. And, look, I’m sorry but it was — it still is a bit of a surprise.”

Eddie looked at him finally and Buck didn’t know what to say because there was nothing about that that could offend him because he was a liar and Eddie really did have every right to question him.

“Which...Buck, you have to get where I’m coming from,” Eddie said.

Buck hadn’t expected Eddie to push more than he had already.

“I do,” Buck said. “But I am...I am his boyfriend. I—” Buck couldn’t say it. He couldn’t get himself to say ‘I love him’ when he didn’t know if that was true and when he definitely knew that Andrew didn’t love him and wouldn’t. Andrew didn’t even know who he was.

“I know you are,” Eddie said.

That was when Ramon and Helena arrived. Helena had a bandage of her arm but she was smiling.

“That didn’t take long,” Eddie said

“Just went to give blood,” Helena said to Buck. “The hospital suggested it would be a good idea. So Ramon and I went. It didn’t take too long.”

Buck nodded and then looked towards Eddie. “And were you too scared of needles?” he asked.

Eddie chuckled and shook his head. “I can’t,” Eddie said.

“I can’t fathom why that’s still a rule,” Ramon said with a shake of his head. “It’s discriminatory and wrong.”

It took Buck a moment to catch on, but then he did and he gasped. “You’re—”

“Bi,” Eddie said. “Kind of why it was a shock when you showed up,” Eddie said and he looked like he was finding the whole conversation amusing.

To Buck, it felt like being thrown into an ice cold pool and expected to just keep swimming without any reaction to the cold. Eddie was bisexual. Suddenly it made some sort of sense that Eddie had been skeptical from the first when it came to his brother being suddenly interested in men. It was because Eddie was the bi one.

“Andrew didn’t tell me his brother was bi,” Buck said eventually and then remembered that Eddie and Andrew’s parents were there.

Eddie had given up his seat for his mom and moved to the foot of the bed. “Andrew doesn’t tell anyone much, does he?”

Buck only nodded and then he looked back at Andrew. He was still attracted to Andrew because nothing had changed about his appearance, but that attraction had faded some in knowing that being with him was very much unattainable.

“I hope you’re taking care of yourself, Buck,” Helena said, shaking Buck from his thoughts. “I know all of this is very hard.”

“I’m okay,” Buck said.

He really wasn’t. He was having some sort of existential crisis and it was all his doing because he was kinda sorta an idiot. And when it was all over and he was left on his own again, it would be his fault then too.

“You know, when these two were boys,” Ramon said, “they used to get up to all kinds of mischief.”

“Did they?” Buck asked.

Eddie groaned. “Papa, please don’t.”

“Why, mijo. That’s part of all the fun of meeting a boyfriend.”

“Yes, but somehow, I don’t know why you have to include me in all of this,” Eddie said.

Buck raised an eyebrow at him and then looked back at Ramon. “I would love to hear any stories you want to tell me.”

Eddie groaned again. He pulled up a chair and sat down, closing his eyes and then when he opened them again he grabbed his phone and focused on the screen.

“Andrew is the younger but he always wanted to do whatever Eddie was doing,” Helena said. “Followed him around to Eddie’s frustration. Used to steal his toys.”

“And break them,” Eddie added.

Buck turned to look at Eddie who barely glanced at him before his eyes were back on his phone.

“Sometimes, yes,” Ramon said. “But he was always a good boy. He was meant to be a first responder. He always wanted to help people. When Andrew was fifteen he saved someone from a fire. One of the neighbors on our street. Eddie, you were friends with their daughter, weren’t you?”

“What?” Eddie asked.

“The girl that lived across the street. Your friend?”

“Oh...Liz Martinez?”

“Yes, that’s the one. Anyway, it was her mother that Andrew saved,” Ramon said. “He just ran right into that house before the firefighters had even arrived and he got Mrs. Martinez out.”

“Wow,” Buck said and his eyes were back on Andrew. When he looked at Eddie, he didn’t know what to make of the look in his eyes. “Is that what — what made him want to be a firefighter?”

“I think so,” Helena said.

The thing about being at the hospital was that it was a bit depressing. It also reminded Buck of all the lies. With Andrew’s family there, Buck felt both better and worse. He wasn’t alone in the room with Andrew feeling guilty about not belonging there because with Andrew’s family, it almost felt like he did. He just wished that the whole thing was real. Not even the Andrew aspect of it, but his family.

“He was in the newspaper for that,” Ramon said and there was pride in his voice.

Helena told stories about Andrew growing up. How he loved sweets and often tried to hide them all over his room when he was kid and how when he was a teenager he’d snuck out of the house late at night often enough that his parents had given up on trying to stop him.

“He never got into any trouble over it,” Helena offered.

“And Eddie, he ever sneak out?” Buck asked.

Helena actually laughed at that. “No, Eddie would have never. He wasn’t rebellious at all.”

Buck looked towards Eddie who actually did look like he was busy on his phone. Or he wasn’t reacting to the conversation and listening. Buck couldn’t really tell.

Learning about Andrew made Andrew all that much more appealing. His parents painted a good picture and yet everything they told him was about the past. About Andrew as he was a child or when he was growing up and nothing about the man that he’d become. And maybe it was that they didn’t know the adult version of their son well enough. It was still nice hearing stories about Eddie and Andrew as kids.

“They tried to bake a cake once for mother’s day,” Ramon said. “The one time they decided to team up.”

“And they wouldn’t let their sisters help,” Helena said, shaking her head fondly.

Eddie looked up. “It wasn’t their idea.”

“It didn’t go well,” Ramon said. “It wasn’t edible.”

“And it left me a very messy kitchen,” Helena said.

“The boys did clean it up,” Ramon said.

“Not very well,” Helena added.

Buck also got to hear about Eddie falling out of a tree and breaking his arm and how Andrew had been the one to call 9-1-1. Eddie made a sort of scoffing noise at that story but didn’t add anything to contradict what happened.

“Andrew annoyed him the entire time he was in a cast,” Ramon said. “Trying to help. You were what, fourteen or fifteen?”

“Fifteen,” Eddie said.

“And why were you up a tree?” Buck asked curiously.

“I was...there was a frisbee stuck up there,” Eddie said.

There were other stories. Ones that were silly and that made Buck wish that he’d had as good a childhood as Eddie and Andrew had had.

Eventually, Eddie stood up. “I have to get going,” he said.

“Do you want me to drop you off?” Ramon asked.

Eddie shook his head. “I’ll get an uber. Abuela and Pepa said they were picking up Christopher from school so you don’t have to worry about that. But I’ll go before I’m late.”

“Or I can take you,” Buck said. “I — I should get going too. I’ve been here all morning.”

He didn’t know why he offered other than that he didn’t think he wanted to stay in that hospital room with Andrew’s parents. Eddie looked like he didn’t know if he should take the offer or not, but then Buck stood up and walked towards him and nudged him.

“Thank you for all the stories,” Buck said to Ramon and Helena.

The two of them smiled at him and Ramon waved them off. Buck followed Eddie out of the hospital room.

“They really do like you,” Eddie said.

“Oh. I’m glad,” Buck said.

It wasn’t until they had made it out to Buck’s Jeep, that Buck had built up enough courage to speak to Eddie and ask.

“So, why didn’t you tell me you were bi? Sorry, that’s rude. I just mean, it kinda makes sense why you were surprised about me and Andrew now.”

Eddie shrugged his shoulders. “Honestly, I figured you already knew.”

“Andrew clearly doesn’t talk about things with anyone,” Buck said and he felt dirty saying it because he was just adding on to the lie and he hated it.

“I guess you could say that,” Eddie said.

Buck had gotten them out of the parking lot when Buck remembered that there was something else he wanted cleared up.

“So, that time you fell out of a tree? What really happened?”

Eddie didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he kept his attention out the window and then Buck felt his eyes on him.

“I guess there’s no harm in telling you,” Eddie said eventually. “Andrew was sort of the reason it all happened in the first place. He got the frisbee stuck up the tree on purpose and if it hadn’t been mine I wouldn’t have even bothered to get it. Then he was the reason that I fell. He distracted me and he kept shaking the tree a bit and I slipped and fell. So even though my parents want to think that he was some sort of hero that day by taking care of me, it’s his fault it happened in the first place.”

Buck wasn’t too surprised. He’d grown up being the annoying little brother so he got that aspect of having a sibling.

“It was easier to just let him be the hero,” Eddie said. “I was older and anyway, I was on pain meds for a while. Made me less angry at him.”

Buck laughed at that. He followed Eddie’s directions for where he was going.

“I think your parents just wanted me to hear nice stories about him — nothing too embarrassing. And what about the fire? Did that really happen?”

“Yeah, that did. He saved the neighbor. It was — nobody would stop talking about it. I wasn’t too surprised when he decided he wanted to actually be a firefighter. My mom might say she’s proud of his choice, but she wasn’t happy back then. Tried to stop him multiple times.”

“And somehow she wound up with two of her sons as firefighters,” Buck said.

He took the next turn as Eddie directed him.

“I was in the Army first,” Eddie said. “Can’t blame her for wanting to keep at least one of her sons out of harm's way. I think by the end of it they were just glad he wasn’t in the Army with me.”

Buck had a lot of questions. He wanted to know more about how Eddie had wound up being a firefighter and how he and his brother had even come to be in LA when their parents were from Texas. He wanted to know more about where Christopher fit into that picture as well as Christopher’s mother.

He settled for saying, “you were in the Army?”

Eddie nodded. “Afghanistan.”

“I was almost in the Navy,” Buck said. “Well, the Seals, I should say. It didn’t work out in the end.”

Buck didn’t really like to talk about the time in his life when he’d wanted nothing more than to be a Navy Seal. How he’d trained and had made it far enough to realize that the dehumanizing aspect of it wasn’t for him. The whole turning off the part of him that cared, to be ruthless and single-minded and follow orders. None of it had been for him or what he’d expected it to be. Buck didn’t often think about it and hadn’t for a long time.

“It wasn’t for me,” Buck said with a shrug and he was glad when Eddie didn’t pry.

Instead, they were both silent for a while before Eddie asked about Legolas.

“I was thinking about bringing Chris by tomorrow,” Eddie said.

“He’ll like that,” Buck said. “I, um, I have to say that having him around last night really gave me a good buffer with your parents. Made it easier.”

Eddie chuckled. “Good,” he said.

When Buck pulled up to the station it was just in time to see Hen arriving and before Eddie could even get out of the car, she was motioning for him to get out too and he couldn’t say no. So he parked and the two of them got out and Buck wasn’t expecting for Hen to pull him into a hug. But it was nice to hug her and to know that it was so genuine and caring.

“Come on, you should join us,” Hen said. “Cap is making lunch and I’m sure he won’t mind if you hang around.”

“Uh...sure,” Buck said and he followed her inside. Eddie came up behind him.

Buck had never been to a fire station before and as he walked in, he took it in almost like a child would. The firetrucks and the ambulance that stood at the ready in all their glory were more impressive than anything.

“You want to see them up close, don’t you?” Eddie asked.

“I — yeah, maybe.”

Eddie chuckled. “I’ll show you if we have time.”

Hen took him past the trucks and then towards some stairs. Buck noticed that Eddie didn’t join them, going off on his own likely to get changed. Hen just took him up.

“Look who’s stopping by today, Cap,” Hen said.

Bobby was in what appeared to be a kitchen, but he looked up and he smiled when he saw Buck.

“Oh. Well, you’re more than welcome to join us for lunch, Buck.”

“If it isn’t any trouble. I don’t want—”

Bobby motioned him over, smiling. “I don’t mind.”

Buck moved across the space, past a long rectangular table to the kitchen. There were a few other firefighters sitting where some sofas had been placed and the ones that looked over just nodded at him.

“I’ll be back. Gotta get changed,” Hen said and disappeared down the stairs.

“How are you doing, Buck?” Bobby asked.

“I’m okay. Just waiting for him to wake up, I guess.” And waiting for everything to be over and for his life to get back to normal.

“We all are,” Bobby said. “But he will.”

“I know,” Buck said.

He sat down on one of the stools and watched as Bobby moved around the kitchen, putting a salad together.

“Is this how it is at every firehouse? The captain cooking for everyone?”

“There’s a lot of trust that needs to be in place among firefighters — among any first responders. We’re like family and eating together is a way to make that real. Not every firehouse is like this and in most places everyone takes turns cooking. I like to cook. It’s a stress reliever for me and I wouldn’t say I trust any of my crew to not give all of us food poisoning.”

Buck laughed at that.

“He’s talking about Andrew and Eddie,” Chimney said, dropping his hand onto Buck’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze.

“Hey,” Buck said.

“Those boys are a fire hazard in their own kitchens,” Hen added and she took the stool next to Buck.

Buck laughed. “Good to know.”

By the time that Eddie had made it upstairs, they had moved over to the table and Buck found himself sitting between Hen and Chimney. Eddie sat across from him and all of it just felt natural and nice. They all included him, even the other firefighters that Buck was introduced to on the spot.

“You know,” Hen said halfway through the meal, “this is the first time in a while that a call hasn’t interrupted our lunch.”

“And now you’ve cursed us and it’s going to happen,” Chimney said.

But a call didn’t come and they all just laughed. Bobby told Buck about how they were all ready to go for any call that came no matter what they were doing. It was the nature of the job.

“We’ve lost many a meal that way,” Chimney said.

“Everything Bobby cooks heats up well afterwards,” Eddie said with a roll of his eyes.

There was a lot going on around the station even when there were no calls and after lunch was over everyone started on their duties. For Hen that meant cleaning up after lunch, Chimney was checking on the stock of supplies in the ambulance, and while Bobby disappeared to do paperwork, Eddie led Buck down to look at the firetrucks.

“They’re kinda intimidating and impressive all at once,” Eddie said. “I mean, growing up you dream of being a firefighter, right?”

“Yeah,” Buck said.

He felt a little like a kid allowed to do whatever he wanted in a candy shop when Eddie opened the door to one of the trucks and showed him what it looked like inside. And when Buck asked, Eddie let him go in too. Strangely, it felt like being where he belonged but Buck had no idea why. He got out and Eddie showed him all the things that a firetruck carried.

“I’m — this is amazing,” Buck said.

“It should be Andrew showing all of this off to you,” Eddie said.

Buck was ashamed to admit even to himself that he’d forgotten all about Andrew.

—-

Having Buck around was different.

Eddie hadn’t expected for Buck to stick around after they arrived at the station, but he didn’t mind that he had. Buck was just excitable and he got along with everyone, fitting right in and talking to everyone around him like it wasn’t his first time at that table. Eddie could tell that Bobby liked him. Hen already seemed to have a soft spot for him and Chimney seemed intent on including Buck.

It didn’t hit Eddie until he’d showed Buck all the interesting parts about the firetrucks that it should have been his brother showing off his job to Buck and bringing him over to the station for lunch. It felt just a little like overstepping but Buck didn’t seem to even realize that, instead he looked adorable as he looked around. After the firetrucks, Eddie expected Buck to leave but he didn’t so Eddie gave him a tour of the whole fire station.

“I’ve only ever had to call 9-1-1 once in my life other than the accident with Andrew,” Buck said eventually. “And all these people came out to respond on the call. It was crazy but impressive. It was a car accident, nothing to do with me but I saw it and it’s just...there’s a lot to be said about there always being people ready to run in and help.”

Hearing Buck talk about it like that made Eddie feel warm all over. He knew there was a nobility to his job — a reason why first responders were lauded as heroes. That wasn’t why Eddie had joined the LAFD. It had been more to do with brother already being a part of it and Eddie needing some way to cope after Afghanistan and after returning home and having his wife just pick up and leave. Being a firefighter was an adrenaline rush, it was an escape and something that Eddie needed to feel sane and feel like himself. It didn’t hurt that it meant he was helping people.

“Anyway,” Buck said with a cough. “I should go. It was — thanks for showing me around.”

“It was fun,” Eddie said. “And thanks again for the ride.”

Buck gave him a nod and Eddie watched him walk away and he knew that he had a problem.

Next Chapter

Notes:

In the US (I’m not sure about other countries), men who have had sex with other men are not allowed to donate blood unfortunately. The movie has a plot point about the main character giving blood so I wanted to throw a bit of a reference at that even if the situation is completely different. Really this fic is turning out kinda different than the movie in a lot of ways.

Let me know what you all thought of this chapter and I hope everyone enjoys the S3 finale tonight.

If anyone wants to be tagged for future chapters just let me know. :)

Tagging: @tranquility-or-chaos @diazbuckleysworld

#911 fox #911 fic #buddie #buddie fic #buck x eddie #911 fox fic #fic #my fic #I'm With You

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tozierpunks · 4 years

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Richie, Bev, and Eddie being the wild child(s) (Eddie the tamer of the three) of the losers club. Maybe they’ve got piercings, tattoos, they’ll listen to music and smoke (Eddie occasionally tries but it’s not his thing, he’s vibing to the music tho) Richie’s nails are painted black, Bev’s got her combat boots, Eddie in his ripped dungarees. Taking road trips in Richie’s beat up truck.

I have this hc that there’s a payphone outside Bev’s apartment, and since she couldn’t be caught dead on the phone in her house without some flack from her shithead dad, she uses that one (it’s faced away from her apartment, he couldn’t see her unless he came out). So she gives Eddie the number and tells him to call at least three times, cause she’s bound to hear it one of those times, and that’s how they chat on the phone. She’ll call Eddie, and if Sonia answers, she pretends to be a telemarketer.

They’ll make plans to sneak out and spend the night in the clubhouse if either of their houses are too bad. Eddie brings Sonia’s sugary snacks, Bev will bring magazines or comic books, and sometimes she brings one of her dad’s beers. Both of them hate the taste, but drinking it and gagging at the taste and exchanging that UGH look... is almost like a silent promise that they’ll never talk about this to anyone else.

Because no one else will get it.

No one else understands what it’s like to love someone you hate and fear SO MUCH. No one else knows how it feels to be stuck in a box, and completely at the mercy of someone who was supposed to love you. It’s a betrayal they hope their friends never know.

Then there’s one night Richie comes by the clubhouse after dark, and he’s surprised to find them there. He honestly just wanted a place to read his cousin’s Playboy, and he was shocked to find Bev and Eddie. They jumped up just as a reflex, and it seemed like they were caught doing something.

Of course, he’s a little heartbroken because he feels like he’s on the outside looking in, and he jokes, “Wow Eds, I didn’t know you had it in you. Bev, I always thought your type was... Bill. But this is cool. My best friends... boinking.” and Eddie looks horrified and Beverly flips him off and points out his magazine.

“Were you gonna beat the meat in here? You don’t do it on the hammock do you? Try not to tear it off, Trashmouth.”

Only her one liners are good enough to match his.

They don’t tell him exactly why they’re there, but they swear nothing weird is going on. Bev isn’t ready for all that teenage junk, and neither is Eddie. He’s not really interested in girls at all. (”Er- yet, I guess,” he adds, almost as an afterthought).

Bev offers Eddie a cigarette to give Richie, “five minutes alone with Miss January” and that’s his first time smoking. He choked of course, but he does try it a couple more times before deciding he hates it. The nicotine gives him a headache, anyways. So Richie comes out and invites them to his house, and Maggie catches them sneaking in. She sees how dirty and frightened Richie’s friends are, and she always KNEW something was wrong with that Alvin Marsh, and everyone knows Sonia Kaspbrak is a bigoted, holier-than-thou nutcase...

and let’s just say Maggie Tozier was kind of a bad girl in high school. She remembers what it’s like. Sneaking out, picking locks, stealing a beer or two. Of course she’s still Richie’s mother, so he’s “in big trouble, mister.”

But his friends? While she “doesn’t approve,” they always have room here for Eddie and Bev. She makes them up little beds, offers them a drink, and is the mother neither of them had the pleasure of knowing. And that’s when they start gravitating towards Richie’s house.

Not too long later, he asks what they were doing in the clubhouse alone, at THAT hour. It’s hard, because Eddie and Bev haven’t even said it to each other. They just knew.

Then Eddie does something weird. He starts crying.

He hates crying.

It makes him uncomfortable, because it’s what his mother uses to guilt trip him. Crying never means someone’s sad. It means you did something wrong, and the only way you can make it right is by doing what they want, even if you hate it. Even if it’s bad for you.

Even if it makes you cry too.

So he hates crying, he never lets himself, because he doesn’t want anyone to feel as bad as he does. Especially not his friends.

Richie and Bev FULLY do not care though. They’re immediately there to comfort him, and it feels entirely different from what he’s used to with his mother. Strangely enough, it’s his crying that makes Beverly blurt out the truth. All the horrible things her father has done and said, all the ways he’s made her feel disgusting. All the ways he used to make her happy, because he was still her father. She talks about the anger, and the guilt, and the hate, and all the other ugly feelings trapped inside. Eddie wipes his nose and nods, because it’s the same for him.

Richie doesn’t cry about it until later. After he walks them home. More than anything, he doesn’t wanna leave them. Not in those houses. Not where they’re alone and unprotected. He gets home and Maggie greets him, but he runs into her arms and sobs. He really does love her and Went; they’re the best parents in this whole damn town - next to Mike’s.

After that though, Richie makes sure to always have room for Eddie and Bev at his place. He cleans up the spare room the Tozier’s have been using for storage, and he asks if they can get bunk beds. Or at least a big guest bed for him and Eddie to share, and Bev can have his room. Maggie and Went are proud of him; their boy has the biggest heart, and only a handful of close friends will really know.

That’s the beginning of it all though. Bev starts leaving nail polishes in the guest room, because really it’s not a guest room as much as it is Bev and Eddie’s shared room. Maggie and Went suddenly have another son, and a daughter. Bev always wanted a mother, and Maggie always wanted a daughter. Richie’s a little baffled when she takes Bev out shopping, but he has no complaints. As long as they bring back something for dinner.

Maggie inherits a sewing machine from her grandmother when Gran Tozier passes, and she lets Beverly use it in the guest room. She even starts buying spare fabrics she thinks Beverly might like.

Went meanwhile is teaching Eddie about how to fix a car, because he bought Richie a beaten up truck for his birthday. Richie knows how to change the tires, but he’s not interested enough to REALLY learn everything. Eddie however, watches Went in awe. He asks questions, gets his hands dirty, and he LOVES it. He starts to care less and less when Sonia talks at him about filth and potential dangers. He’s very, “whatever, Ma.”

Richie’s happy to see them both thriving in his house. It’s not like he’s given the shaft; he has his parents 24/7 and they’re constantly there for every talent show, every small bowling alley gig, and they’re taking pictures at every “first day on the job” even if he’s had 20.

All of them get little jobs to start saving up - they want an apartment somewhere far from Derry once they graduate. Of course, their funds are often spent elsewhere. Sneaking a twenty to the already graduated and legal Victor Criss so he can buy them booze, snagging scalped tickets to a Nirvana concert in Boston, getting the truck back when it’s ultimately towed.

And of course they’re still incredibly close with the other losers, but there’s something special about the three of them together. Bev does both of their nails, Eddie helps to perfect her eyeliner, because he can draw wings the best, and Richie makes himself the protector. He loves them both so much, and he’s finally able to believe that they both love and need him.

#this got MASSIVELY away from me anon that's my bad #headcanon #Richie Tozier #Beverly Marsh #Eddie Kaspbrak #Anonymous

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revisionaryhistory · 4 years

Text

Three Days ~ 4

AO3

~*~Emma~*~

What in the hell is he doing with his tongue? He's licking his lips and flipping it around. Is he trying to drive me crazy? I'm not sure he even realizes what he's doing. Its like a nervous habit or he's thinking. Either option is sexy as fuck.

I'd wondered how and when the subject of him being The Winter Soldier would come up. It had to eventually. Like I'd said it's difficult to get to know him without hearing about his friends. It just so happens that his friends are famous people and super heroes.

I could make this easier. I could tell him a story to let him know I'm not starstruck or looking to attach myself to a celebrity. But that would open up a conversation I'm not ready to have and, frankly, he's not earned. Yet.

After I said to talk about his friends, Sebastian told me stories of dinners in Atlanta, nights out, and practical jokes galore. He used nicknames and told me about the people. I wasn't learning about a bunch of actors. I was learning about Evans, Mackie, Chace, Will, and Scarlett among others.

I must have had a look on my face because he stopped, "What?"

It took a second for me to track back to what I was thinking. "Just because I can match names with faces doesn't mean I know the people. Thank you for telling me about the people."

He smiled and his blue blue eyes lit up. It was like he was surprised he'd been talking so easily. He squeezed my hand and nodded once, "You're welcome."

Our dinner arrived and broke the moment. I'm glad. Like when the appetizer came and stopped the flirty comments. The interruptions kept us from going to far. A first date is like a dance. You flirt, you back away. You get into a deep conversation, then go back to a safer topic. Too much intensity and you run the risk of regretting what you shared in a moment. Out of control flirting just lands you in bed.

While we ate I took over telling stories about my friends. By the time they took our plates we'd built the foundation for future conversations about our days. I didn't doubt there would be those conversations.

We had to stop holding hands while we ate. Almost immediately I saw him shift and felt his leg brush mine and come to rest with his calf pressed against mine. With the plates gone, Sebastian reached across the table. I put my hand back in his and felt a frisson of energy travel up my arm. His hands made mine look tiny. Us holding hands wasn't a passive activity. We played with each other's fingers. Every so often we'd twine fingers and be still for a minute or two before the movement continued. Sebastian seemed especially fascinated by my finger nails. He’d run his fingers over the sides, push against the end, or almost pull on on them.

Another pair of beers arrived and conversation restarted. “You grew up in Georgia and now you're in New York. How'd that happen?”

I grimaced, “There's an ex in this story. You up for hearing the ex story?”

“If you're up to telling.”

“I went to the University of Georgia in Athens. About four hours away from home. First semester of my Junior year I took an elective in American Legal Foundations. Most of the class was taught by a second year law student named Jimmy.” I quirked an eyebrow to clue him in. He smiled. “He was handsome, smart, and very driven. We dated through graduation. Him law school and me undergrad. He got a job at a firm in New York City. I applied to NYU and started working on my Masters. You can work as a teacher in New York with your bachelors, but you have to have taken some prep classes, which I didn't have. So I worked as a server for the first year.”

Sebastian groaned, “I did too. I don't think I've ever been so tired in all my life. And is why I tip ridiculous amounts.”

I laughed, “I remember how bad my feet hurt.” He groaned with me. “It worked good with my school schedule. In the fall I got a job teaching Kindergarten. We had this one bedroom apartment in Brooklyn. I loved our neighborhood. There was always something going on. I got to be friends with this local musician and his wife. She taught first grade, which is how I learned I would prefer first grade. The next year I moved to first grade and we team taught. I thought I was set. A man I loved, job I loved, neighborhood I loved, friends I loved.” I paused to take a drink.

His thumb moving against my skin would have been soothing if I wasn't past all this. Still, it felt good. “This is where it falls apart.”

“Part of what I fell in love with was his drive. I didn't count on it turning on me. Somewhere he started to think I was less than him. He was better than me. His friends were better than mine. At his firm's Christmas party I noticed when he introduced me or if someone asked me about myself he would say “she's just a teacher”. We got into a huge fight that night. He hated my best friend and her wanna be rock star husband. My salary was always going to hold him back.” I smiled. “Hold him back. His phone rang and I saw the name of one of his coworkers. She was the one he'd been fucking for months.”

Sebastian hissed in a breath, “Ouch, sorry.”

“Ancient history now, but thanks. My parents wanted me to moved back. I just couldn't, but I couldn't afford our apartment either. I searched around and found a long term sub position near here for a teacher on maternity leave. They didn't have a spot for me the next year, but I found a first grade position in another school. I've been here three years now.”

“Very different from Brooklyn.”

I laughed, “Very. I loved the city. I'm not telling you anything you don't know. The energy is different there. You can walk around doing nothing and have the best time. I go back and visit friends, especially if Eli has a gig and I can see Angie. Most people come up here to get away from the city. I go to the city to get away from the peace and quiet. Where do you live?”

“Soho.” He looked uncomfortable. “When I first moved to the city I lived in the apartment with three other friends in a scary neighborhood right near the subway. Good times. Acting isn't a steady paycheck. I just bought a place last year. I put it off for a long time. Part of me kept expecting the work to dry up and be worried about making rent again. My manager had to practically forge my name on the mortgage. I shook for a good three days. Then it got fun. I liked decorating and picking out stuff. Everything was painted white when I moved in. I left most of it, but I painted a wall in my bedroom a blue gray. Evans told me I couldn't paint it black.” He shrugged, “I like black.”

“My kitchen is black.”

“Good girl.” He brought his beer to his lips and smiled, “So is mine.”

We talked about New York for a long time. Best places for people watching. Live music places. Hidden restaurants. Things we loved and things we hated. Somewhere in this I decided this was the best first date I'd ever had. Or maybe it was just him.

The place was crowded, noisy with conversation and the clinking of tableware. His attention was never pulled away from me. I felt like I was the only person in the place. If he had first date nerves they weren't showing. He seemed relaxed and natural, which made it easy for me to be relaxed and natural. Facial expressions showed interest and kept me talking. He became more animated as he told his own stories. It was like he focused all his energy on listening, but let it go when it was his turn. As we talked about New York we were talking over and around each other and reacting to things said. It didn't feel like a first date.

When that conversation died down he brought his other hand to the table and motioned for mine. He held both of mine and his face went serious. “Alright. You're stranded on an island.” I snorted a laugh. He shook his head and laughter filled his eyes, “Wait for it.” He huffed a breath and got back into character, “You're stranded on an island. All your needs are taken care of. There's shelter, food, water, indoor plumping. But . . . there's no internet. In the middle of main room, which has an amazing ocean view by the way, is a jukebox. It only has five songs. What are they and why?”

My eyes grew wide, “Only five!”

He sneered and nodded, “Only five. Better make them good ones. Who knows how long you’ll be there.”

“You're gonna tell me yours aren't you?”

“When you're done.” He stared at me while I was thinking. “Only five.”

“Shut up, I'm thinking.” The first three were easy. “Ok, first, foremost, and always is Black by Pearl Jam.”

He made a face, “Ooo, good choice.” He started singing. “I know someday you'll have a beautiful life. I know you'll be a star. In somebody else's sky. Why oh why can't it be mine.”

I had joined in after the first line and could feel the smile on my face. “That's the reason. The feeling and rip your heart out emotion is those lines.” I closed my eyes and thought back, “Seeing that live the first time when I was sixteen was incredible. Watching Eddie on stage with his eyes closed, pouring out the pain. Then it switches to that Doodoo-doo-doo-doodoodoo over and over, almost like a mantra or sitting in the corner rocking back and forth to comfort yourself. Start a Fire, by Ryan Star. It's memories of falling in love or maybe falling in lust. It's got an intense part kind of like Black. Probably because he's a big Pearl Jam fan. It says things like taking chances in the back of your car, give in to the beat of your heart as my hand touches your skin, and wake up dreaming and lie here with me.” I was on a roll now and kept going. “Shatter Me. Lindsey Stirling is a violinist and the lead singer from Halestorm does vocals. It's about being afraid and wanting to feel alive again. Starts kinda soft with the soothing violin in the background then works up to a frenzy. The first line is “I piroutte in the dark” so as the music builds I just picture spinning faster and faster trying to break free from the fear. There's an old song by Jefferson Starship. At least I think they were still Jefferson Starship. Miracles. It's from the seventies and it's one the dirtiest song I've ever heard. Not in the filthy I wanna fuck you like an animal way, but sexy dirty. Have you heard it?”

He scrunched up his face while he thought, “I think so. Something about if only you believed in miracles so would I. Is that right?” I nodded. “I don't recall the dirty part.”

“There's a short version they play on the radio that doesn't have it. It's almost at the end and says I got a taste of the real world when I went down on you.”

I watched a slow smirk form and his eyebrow quirk. “The seventies had lots of secret dirty parts. Afternoon Delight. That song by Donna Summer full of sex noises. When I went down on you isn't really hidden.” He held up a finger. “One more.”

“This one is new and I'm currently obsessed. Chances by the Backstreet Boys.” He snickered. I rolled my eyes and ignored him. I sang the first line, “What if I wouldn't have asked for your name and time wouldn't have stopped when you said it to me.” He just stared and I switched back to speaking, “It’s a simple love song about fate. All the what ifs that have to happen for two people to fall in love.” I shrugged. “Your turn.”

He threw his hands in the air, “I can't compete with yours! You've got all these intense songs about heartbreak, fear, love, and lust. I've got, I've got Jessie's Girl.”

I laughed at the way he threw up his hands, made faces, and collapsed back into his chair. His over the top level of exasperation was funny. “I like things that make me feel.”

Sebastian clapped his hands then rubbed them together, “I'm going to have to up my game.” He took a drink of his beer, shook out his arms, cracked his knuckles, and finally reached out and took my hand again. “I'm going to stick with Rick Springfield's Jessie's Girl as my number one. Playing air guitar and singing into a hairbrush. Good times. I love eighties music so I'll add INXS. Love lots of their music, but if I have to pick one and conserve my choices I'll go with Disappear. Love song about how the right person can make all the problems disappear. And it's got a great beat you can dance to like Molly Ringwald in Breakfast Club.”

“I'd pay money to see that.”

“The night is still young. Umm, number three. Sound of Silence. The Disturbed version. A classic made over. Could have been Careless Whisper, but they messed up the rhythm of the best part. I like it because it's familiar, but completely new. There's this group out of Vegas called Adelita's Way. Invincible is this high energy rock song. Never fails to get me up at the gym. Incidentally, it was also a WWE theme song and that was my fall back if acting didn't work out.” He hummed again and closed his eyes. A second later he was doing that thing with his tongue again. Must be him thinking. “And lastly, anything by Tool.”

I shook my head, “Nope.”

“I didn't think I'd get away with it. So I'll go for Puscifer and Rev 22:20.”

“Thought you said Tool.”

“Puscifer is one of Maynard's side gigs. It's got a line that say if I've got to sin to see her again then I'm gonna lie lie lie. Straight up sacrilegious filthy sex music. Intense too, so you might like it.”

“Your going to use that against me forever, aren't you?”

He nodded, “But you've got Jessie's Girl.”

#Sebastian Stan #fanfiction #fanfic #sebastian stan fanfiction

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ionlycareaboutyou · 4 years

Note

prompt: kind of a niche ship but could you write some richie n seth fluff pls? i love your fics!!✨

omg i love this ship. i’ve written them vaguely (richie/seth/stefon threesome fic) but never on their own? so this was a v fun challenge for me. i hope u like it, u’ve inspired me to write more for them!

cw for this being set in IT ch 2 canon, so eddie is like. dead and gone for good, unfortunately, and it is discussed. i picture this fic being set around 2017. i promise this fic isn’t just richie angst, there’s fluff! just gotta get through some sad parts first.

When he moved back to New York City, Richie felt like his 29-year-old self again. He still does sometimes. The NYC comedy scene and the LA one are distinctly different, despite all the NYC expats who move to LA to star in films or do voice acting or settle down and have a few kids. It didn’t feel right to go back, though. LA was all shine and sun, several layers of sky blue paint over decades worth of grime. At least NYC was honest in its grime for the most part. At least New Yorkers were able to joke about their greasy ass pizza and subway rats instead of all trying to be Instagram influencers.

The real truth was that Richie had friends in NYC. In LA, he had none. And what he needed was friends.

The funny thing about reconnecting with an old friend is that sometimes, even though it seems like a lot has changed, they’re still the same person, deep down.

Seth is still a workaholic--the same workaholic who Richie met back when he hosted SNL for the first time. He still stays up til 4 AM sometimes, drinking dark, bitter coffee for the caffeine rather than the taste, darting in and out of cubicles, asking if anything new has cropped up in the past few hours that’s monologue worthy. He still wears those ratty sweatshirts during the day and changes into suits for the evening. He does shave more consistently, Richie will give him that. He still laughs high pitched and loud when a joke really gets him, and he still laughs at his own jokes, even, stumbling through them sometimes with tears welling up in his eyes. He still loves to drink tequila and whiskey and anything really that brings heat to his cheeks and more of that laughter bubbling out of his chest, though he tells Richie he doesn’t drink as much as he used to--he’s far too old for it now, and the hangovers are intense.

(“I do wanna do a day drinking segment with Rihanna, though,” he confides in him once over lunch. They’re eating greasy pizza, and Richie feels like he’s in heaven, because the shit in LA doesn’t even begin to measure up.

“Rihanna? Do you have, like, connections to her or something?”

“No! I wish,” Seth frowns at his slice of pepperoni. “Do you?”

Richie hoots out a laugh. “Dude, you are severely overestimating me if you think I know Rihanna. Good luck on your quest, though.”

“Hey, maybe Rihanna’s got a thing for raunchy comedians who wear the same shirt three days in a row and own like, two pairs of sneakers and refuse to buy new ones. I don’t know her personally, either.”

Richie flicks a piece of mushroom right at Seth’s face. He laughs in that way he does, and Richie’s chest flutters.)

And maybe it’s the fact that Seth is still Seth--still blue-eyed, New Hampshire, toothy grin Seth--that makes Richie fall for him. And he’s not even surprised by it. He thinks he’s always sort of had a piece of his heart reserved for Seth, even when he moved to LA. He was the first one to send him a congratulatory text when the news broke that he got Late Night, and he was always happy to wander around his too-empty LA apartment and shoot the shit with him for hours long phone calls about everything and anything and nothing at all. Seth was the first to welcome Richie with open arms back to NYC. They were the sort of friends that never truly fell apart, even when they went a while without speaking to each other.

It all comes tumbling out eventually, why Richie is back in NYC. Seth never really poses the question, but when Richie calls him one Tuesday night at 3 AM, eyes unfocused and hot with tears and chest heaving with hyperventilating sobs, the answer becomes clear to him.

He’s still awake, of course, sitting in his office and staring at the writers’ Slack chat when the phone rings. “Are you awake, man? I’m sorry if I woke you,” Richie says into the phone, warbly.

Seth manages to talk him down from it when Richie admits he had a pretty vivid nightmare. He doesn’t judge him for a second or wonder why a 40-year-old man is so shook up by one. He simply talks slow and soft into the phone, telling him it’s okay and grounding him as best as he can. “You can tell me anything, Rich, you know that, right?” His voice is so goddamn sweet Richie wants to sob all over again.

So he tells him everything--well, rather, a condensed version of everything. He tells him he had friends as a kid back in Maine, really close friends, and they met up again after drifting apart, and he tells him that he saw his best friend in the world die right in front of his eyes. He’s careful with his words, but something tells him that even if he did explain all the clown shit, Seth would listen and comfort him all the same, even if he was confused by it. “I feel so bad for dumping this shit on you, dude,” Richie says, fighting back the tears that he’s finally managed to quell. “It’s just--”

“Shh, hey, it’s okay,” Seth assures him, “I can’t fucking imagine. I’m so sorry. I know that sounds really lame, to say I’m sorry. I know it doesn’t really fix anything.”

“It’s okay. I haven’t--no one really knows. I mean, my friends know, they were there, too, but...God, it’s so fucking complicated.” He lays his head back down on his pillow and exhales a shaky sigh, feeling mostly back down to earth. “I guess I just. I picked up my phone and dialed you because I needed to know everything was...you were okay and I wasn’t still in that fucking dream.”

“I get it. You don’t have to worry about that. You know I keep crazy hours anyway.” They manage to get a chuckle out of that. “I hope this doesn’t sound insensitive, but I’m glad you were with him in his final moments, I’m sure he was very glad to have you there.”

Richie swallows the baseball-sized lump in his throat. “God, I sure fucking hope so. He was…” he stops himself. He hadn’t told the other Losers what he wanted to say about Eddie and how he felt about him, but he was certain they knew. Seth is completely detached from this whole situation, but maybe putting out what he’s been harboring in his chest for so long will take some weight off it. “He was the first person I really fell in love with.”

“Oh, Rich.” Seth’s voice is soft and sad.

“I know that’s a lot to tell you, and like, I haven’t even really told you, or anyone that I’m gay, but I guess here it is, this is so damn...ungraceful,” he rambles with a shaky little laugh, “But I guess I’m not really graceful anyway.”

“It’s okay. You know it doesn’t bother me at all, right? God, I sound like--every straight dude in the world right now. I’m totally cool with gays!”

“Well, maybe a little,” Richie says, unable to not give him a little shit, and he’s happy to hear Seth laugh on the other end. “But thanks. I’m glad you were the first person I told.”

“Well, when I tell you about the dudes I hooked up with in college, I know you’ll be chill about it, too.” Seth says, then adds, “Oh, guess I just did.”

“You what? Seth middle-name Meyers.”

“It’s Adam.”

“Not the point. You what?”

“Dude, haven’t I told you like a million times about my crush on James Spader? Do you know how many times I’ve watched Pretty in Pink? Too many times. That’s not even the best Hughes film.”

“I thought that was like--a joke! You always said you wanted to grow your hair out like that!” He’s smiling against the phone, really truly grinning at this whole mutual coming out situation, and he’s so happy to be smiling again.

“Well, yeah, I do, but also, like, he was hot, okay? Him being bald now is the greatest tragedy of my life.” Seth says, laughing even more.

“You know, I haven’t gone bald yet. I’ve got plenty of hair. It’s unwashed right now, but feel free to run your hands through it. We can roleplay. I’ll be...fuck, what was his name? The Pretty in Pink guy?” Richie hasn’t seen that movie since it came out.

Seth answers very quickly. “Steff.”

“That’s it! I’ll be Steff, and you can be...Andie! That’s her name.”

“Steff wasn’t the love interest, though, remember? He was the love interest’s asshole friend.”

Richie hums. “I’m kind of an asshole. Not as pretty of an asshole as Spader, though.”

“I think you’re perfectly pretty.”

“Thanks,” he smiles again. His stomach knots itself up, then un-knots. Seth Meyers, the man who’s all blue eyes, New Hampshire, and salt-and-pepper hair is calling him pretty. What a world.

After he hangs up and manages to catch a few hours of sleep, he’s not surprised when he gets a call from Seth a few days later asking if he wants to grab a drink, and there’s a different tone to his voice. He can’t quite place it, but it almost sounds nervous, like he doesn’t want to screw this up. He doesn’t screw anything up, though, and when they make their way back to Seth’s apartment, pleasantly buzzed, and end up on his couch, lips on lips, Richie isn’t really surprised, either. He smiles into each one.

They seem to divide their time in between either apartment, not quite ready to have the “hey, let’s move in together” conversation. It’s only been a few months, and they’re taking their time. Richie’s never let himself take his time before.

Most nights, they’re tangled up in whatever bed they’ve fallen into--tonight, it’s Seth’s, and Richie has managed to get him home at a reasonable time, around midnight, even though the show filmed several hours before. (“The news and the president don’t stop,” Seth has explained to him before, “But God, I wish they would.”) He’s running his fingers through Seth’s hair, which is surprisingly soft once all the product is washed out. Richie never gets tired of touching it. “You’re halfway to Spader, I think.”

“Yeah? I’ll see if makeup and wardrobe approve of me growing it out any longer, or if they’ll force me to cut it.” Seth sounds sleepy, but even in the dark Richie can tell he’s smiling.

“I’d like it,” he says, and presses a kiss to the line of Seth’s jaw. “Isn’t that enough?”

“For me? More than enough.” Seth brings him in for a proper kiss, long and deep and warm, hands wandering and stroking skin, unhurried and sweet.

When they pull apart, it comes tumbling out, as things seem to do. “I love you.” It’s the first time Richie has said it. He’s known it, without a shadow of a doubt, for a while now. And he thinks Seth knew it, too, even if it went unsaid. He understood that Richie was working up to this sort of thing, to opening himself up and allowing himself to cry and feel and say things like that. Like I love you. And now it’s come out, like it was always bound to, and Richie feels Seth smile against his temple.

“I love you, too.”

“More than James Spader?”

Seth laughs. “Much more.” He pulls him in for another kiss, and they say “I love you” many more times that night, and almost every night afterward.

#my writing #thank you so much for this prompt! i went a little wild #i kind of woobified richie a bit but what i can i say i love to project #and the james spader thing is the result of seth always talking abt him in monologues and ACNs #he wants to 'grow his hair out that long'#but he needs that 'spader confidence'#lmao #Anonymous

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jflashandclash · 4 years

Text

Tales From Mount Othrys

Fidget Spinners IV

Once they were aboard the Ferry of the Dead, riding down the River Styx with Charon in his proper creepy and grim black robe, Alabaster stopped vomiting. The ship was an old Greek vessel, something Matthias could have identified immediately. They sat as far from the stern as possible. Apparently this boat was usually brimming with ghosts, but Charon had shoved the three of them aboard in such a hurry, less ghosts had flooded the space.

This gave them the room to sit on the edge of the boat so Pax, Lou Ellen, and Alabaster could stare off at the inky, polluted river. They wanted to be as far from the ferryman as possible. Charon was cursing under his breath, something about children being electrocuted in bathtubs and getting into car accidents.

Maybe, in a normal tour, Pax might have been excited by the black stalactites and terrifying horror movie set. For now, all he could do was rub Alabaster’s back. Lou Ellen sat on his other side, pulling one finger off and putting it back in a different one’s place, frequently messing it up. This was her way of acting concerned.

After he was certain Charon couldn’t overhear them, Pax whispered, “You died coming after us?!”

Before now, he couldn’t process what was happening enough to ask. The sight of Alabaster with his intestines dragging on the floor and blood spewing out of his mouth—it was enough to make Pax tremble more. And he was already trembling pretty hard in this cold cavern.

“Of course I died!” Alabaster’s voice rose, making Pax and Lou Ellen flinch. “How else would I be in the Underworld?!”

Tears threatened to spill down Pax’s cheeks. He could hear Lou Ellen sniffling. Crying would really make her missing-eye illusion less believable.

Alabaster sighed. Pax thought he was reaching for something in his pocket.

Alabaster wasn’t. He grabbed the end of his intestines. Casually, the child of Hecate wound them up around one wrist. Once he got towards the end, he ripped off a chunk.

Pax shrieked.

“Be quiet,” Alabaster snarled. Softer, he grumbled, “And Mercedes thinks you can keep it cool in enemy territory.”

Pax wanted to point out that enemies (hopefully) wouldn’t be ripping off pieces of their organs. Was that a thing they did in Camp Half-Blood? Did Percy Jackson, in fact, an organ-eating zombie?

Before Pax could withdraw his hand, Alabaster shoved the chunk into Pax’s palm.

Pax almost screamed again. Maybe this was an experience he should have smiled upon—after all, it isn’t every day that your crush tries to hand you an organ, granted, a heart might be better.

“I knew you idiots wouldn’t bring enough snacks,” Alabaster hissed, shoving another chunk into Lou Ellen’s hands.

“Oh my mother…” Lou Ellen whispered.

Pax didn’t want to watch as she held up the chunk for investigation. Then he saw what she saw. The scent of iron vanished like it had been a whiff from a distant breeze. That chunk had some kind of label covered in blood—not blood.

Pax sniffed.

The scent of barbeque sauce became overwhelming.

He rubbed his own chunk with his thumb. The sauce smeared to reveal a packaged sausage, like the kind you’d have on a cheese platter. There was even a bright label on the protective packaging.

Pax stared at his hand. The spell had been so convincing.

Lou Ellen made a low whistle. “You’re good,” she said, “Titans, can you teach me how to do that?”

“When you have enough discipline to pull off your nose instead of your chin,” Alabaster scolded.

Pax couldn’t think about the spell or the sausage.

He threw his arms around Alabaster.

Alabaster made a grunt of annoyance.

Slowly and firmly, as though not to draw attention to them, Alabaster removed Pax’s arms. There was an embarrassed hue to his pale cheeks as he scowled from Pax to Lou Ellen. “You didn’t come to me to devise this plan?” he demanded.

“We thought you’d be mad,” Lou Ellen meeped. She sheepishly poked at the fake dent in her head. By comparison to Alabaster’s effects, hers looked like something out of a D-rate horror movie.

“Oh, I am mad. When we get back, I’m killing you, and then you’ll have to march right back in there and explain to Charon how you’ve shown up twice, then you’ll have to see what he does with you,” Alabaster said.

Pax couldn’t help but grin. Threats aside, he couldn’t handle looking at this very-much-alive Alabaster. It was cute thinking about it: Alabaster finding their, “Went to Underworld. Will bring back souvenirs,” note and stuffing a bunch of sausage links into his shirt, cussing at the confused centaur that could swear he just took Alabaster and Lou Ellen off the ship. He really cared. At least about Lou Ellen.

“Are you making us go back?” she whispered, shuffling away from a wandering soul and closer to her brother. Pax understood. Everything here was cold. Touching another warm person was a nice reminder of the above world.

“How, pray tell, am I to make you go back in our current situation?” Alabaster closed his eyes and rubbed his eyelids. “Mercedes warned me you’d want to go after Axel. I didn’t think the two of you would be stupid enough to throw away your life chasing him or smart enough to get off the boat undetected.”

Lou Ellen and Pax exchanged a glance over Alabaster’s shoulders. Neither could decide if the comment was more compliment or insult.

“So, we’re going after Axel?” Pax clarified.

“We’re certainly not going back the way we came. I have no interest in angering Charon on his own boat,” Alabaster said.

That meant that Alabaster had come down here with his own plan. Even if he didn’t have one when he left, trying to catch them before they went into DOA Recording Studios, he would have come up with one by now. Before Pax could hear any awesome details, their ship pulled up along black sand.

Pax guessed that Hades hadn’t heard the memo—that pink was the new black. If Pax ever got scared while he was down here, he would have to remember to visualize the Underworld in various shades of Easter egg with magenta stalactites meeting a sparkling, rose floor. His stomach dropped about what shade of pink the river would be with its thick eddies. That went too Mayan in his head.

Alabaster tossed the plastic-wrapped suit backwards into the boat, quickly shuffling the younger two off. They didn’t wait to hear what Charon thought of the contents.

They walked towards the airport-like security with ghoulish attendants separating people into various lines. There were signs above the lines, ones that Pax couldn’t read since the letters jumbled into incomprehension.

A low whine, like that of an injured puppy, echoed around the chamber. Yea, there were wails too, but those were human wails. Pax was way less interested in those. He couldn’t find the source of the animal noises until Lou Ellen tugged furiously on his jacket.

Pax didn’t know how he missed the view before. Unlike Alabaster, Lou Ellen, and Axel, he struggled to see through the Mist. Even so, the Mist deserved a pay raise.

A few yards ahead of them was a massive Rottweiler with three heads. Maybe the truck-sized dog would have normally been intimidating; Pax had heard some intimidating stories about Cerberus. Instead, the dog just looked pathetic, curled up and nursing a paw. Pax could see why.

There was a sword imbedded between two toes.

“He’s hurt!” Pax cried.

“Ajax, no,” Alabaster growled.

Lou Ellen joined in the cry, “We have to help him.”

“What part of—”

“Please!” Pax and Lou Ellen said together.

“Grant me the patience of the Furies,” Alabaster said under his breath.

One of the heads must have caught their scent. It perked up and glanced in their direction, growling.

The other two were licking at the injured paw still. He looked cute, the way a monster truck might if painted with bambis and rabbits.

Alabaster stopped in his tracks. He fumbled with his intestines—sausages. Pax really needed to stop thinking of sausage as intestines. “Who do you think stabbed him?” he asked in his you’re stupid if you can’t answer this question and I know you too well to let you play dumb. “See many stray demigods wandering down here with blades?”

“It wasn’t Axel,” Pax said. Axel was obsessed with mythical creature rights and would have known Cerberus was just doing his job. One caged animal to another—Axel would have likely tried to play-wrestle with the beast. “I’ll bet it was Luke.”

“Yea, Luke’s an asshole,” Lou Ellen said.

The two of them vigorously nodded their heads towards Alabaster.

“Lou Ellen,” Alabaster chided, “I expect more creative insults than vulgarity. And you aren’t going to win me over by insulting Castellan.”

Despite him saying that, the corner of his lips twitched into a smile. Until then, Pax hadn’t realized how glad he was to have Alabaster along. The Witch Boy would know his way around the Underworld, or Pax guessed he would. Alabaster held that easy calm, even amongst the dead.

Pax and Lou Ellen would have feigned calm confidence. But, uh, that would have only lasted so long as they got closer to the line’s attendants.

Another of Cerberus’ heads noticed their movement. It raised and joined in the low growl.

The noise didn’t seem to bother Alabaster. “How were you planning on getting past?” he asked, gathering the rest of the sausages from his waist—he must have wrapped them under his shirt, and withdrawing them like a towel around a hand wound.

“We brought a chew toy,” Lou Ellen said. Pax could tell that she wanted to sound proud, but had realized a flaw in their plan. There were three heads and only one chew toy.

“Seriously?” Alabaster’s growl chimed in with Cerberus’.

“I heard it worked for Annabeth,” Pax said.

Although Pax couldn’t see it, he could feel Alabaster roll his eyes. “The amount of inconvenience that girl has caused,” he said under his breath.

Pax hesitated. Cerberus’ growls were making his body vibrate. This dog was massive, the size of a truck. Pax didn’t even come up to Cerberus’ chest and Cerberus was half-laying down. One of his heads still licked the sword hilt imbedded in his paw. Focus on that, Pax thought, and not on how his teeth are about as long as that sword.

“We have a treat for you!” Alabaster called. His voice was way too cold for dealing with a ball of cute fluffiness and death. Pax had a feeling that Alabaster had never been allowed pets as a child. Other than Axel and Pax. Pax was fairly certain that they were pets to Alabaster.

Cerberus stood up. When he applied pressure to his front paw, all three heads whimpered. They pulled the paw up slightly, to alleviate the pressure.

“Go fix his paw if you wish. I can only hold him for a few moments with this,” Alabaster said. “If you take too long or are sloppy, you’ll get yourself killed.”

For an instant, Pax wondered if Alabaster was nervous. The Witch Boy unwrapped a link of sausage and tossed it into the air towards Cerberus.

The two heads less affected by the wound snapped at it, nipping at each other to bite it to pieces, probably the same way they would do with Pax’s limbs if he was caught.

Its breath flooded over them, almost as bad as Pax’s little brother’s, Hiro’s breath.

“You suck at this,” Lou Ellen said, pulling a link from Alabaster. “You heard him, Pax. Have fun getting that sword out. Hey puppers! Look what I got for you puppers!”

Her voice raised in pitch and excitement. The sentiment worked. Cerberus sat upright, letting his butt drop back onto the ground. From what Pax had heard of Annabeth’s interactions with this dog, he thought their red ball plan might have worked with Lou Ellen’s charm. Uh—natural charm. No witchy charm required.

Pax puffed up his cheeks and popped them, realizing Lou Ellen had volunteered him for the harder job. His heartbeat pounded in his head. It’s just a cute, injured puppy, he told himself, It just so happens that it wouldn’t need to chew to swallow you.

Alabaster gave Lou Ellen a look that might have been reproachful or approving. He handed her the rest of the sausage as Cerberus’ short tail thumped against the black sand, echoing around the chamber. Pax thought it was weird that interacting with this dog wasn’t a red flag for the Underworld Security. What dead person wanted to poke at the landowner’s attack dog?

Alabaster made a few signs in the air around Pax’s head, muttering in Latin. Was he making him invisible? Or at least making him blend in with the stone? Or smell less like a delicious treat? Pax hoped all of the above. When Pax glanced down at his hands, they still looked visible and potentially delicious to a monster.

“We don’t have enough sausages for you to hesitate,” Lou Ellen said.

Pax swallowed. He thought about Juana, Axel’s jaguar. Their father bought it for him a few months after they were forced back “home.” Axel warned his siblings not to go near Juana without him, since she could tear them to shreds. Juana was a tenth the size of Cerberus.

From what he knew of Juana, there was no point in trying to sneak up. He approached Cerberus’ injured paw, hands outstretched in attempt to look non-threatening. Not that a 4’7 rail of cuteness could look threatening.

The other two heads were locked on Lou Ellen, or fighting over bits of sausage she threw.

The last head faced him. The eyes didn’t quite focus on Pax, showing Alabaster’s spell must have done something. Pax heartbeat thudded in his head as he took the last few steps to Cerberus’ foot. The dog hadn’t batted him out of existence yet.

The head whimpered and pulled its paw closer to its body.

“It’s okay,” Pax said, the way he did when his littlest brother had a nightmare. “I just want to help. It’ll be quick, like ripping off a Band Aid.”

That felt like a threat to Pax. Just gonna take that sharp, pointy thing in your paw and move it around a bit.

“Pax,” Alabaster said in warning.

Pax didn’t look over to see why. He figured it had to do with how the middle head had turned to sniff furiously in his direction.

Now or to Xibalba, Pax thought. He wrapped his fingers around the cold metal of the hilt and pulled up, trying not to twist the blade or yank at an angle.

It slid out easily.

Pax wanted to gloat about the Sword in the Paw and how he’d be king of the Cerberi.

His mouth went dry instead.

When he wretched the blade out, dark liquid splattered up from the paw. Something clear and goopy dropped on his head from above—saliva.

Pax puffed up his cheeks and popped them, looking up. The other two heads glowered down at him. Their teeth were barred within inches of his face. Their low growl rattled his skull.

He trembled, thinking at least one good thing would come out of this: if he died in the Underworld, he didn’t need to worry about going through Charon’s Waiting Room again.

***

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed! And I hope you and your loved ones are staying healthy and safe!

Stay tuned next week for part X!

#Percy Jackson and the Olympians #Heroes of Olympus #Tales from Mount Othrys #fanfic #PJO #HOO #TFMO #pax #lou ellen #Alabaster #CUTE PUPPERS!!!!#irritable bowel syndrome #Also known as Alabaster #I hope you guys are doing well! Stay safe!

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raevenlywrites · 4 years

Text

Find the Word tag

Thanks for the tag @charleewritesabook

Throat

Lia couldn’t help but smile back at him. “Is there anything else we should know before we meet your parents?”

Her throat seemed to close on the thought and Tybee looked confused.

Kyle laughed. “I was wondering when you’d put that piece together.”

The look she gave him only made him laugh harder.

“What piece?” Gil asked?

“The meeting the parents of a boyfriend piece.” Kyle snickered.

“So are you.” Lia snapped back, hating that her cheeks were taking on color.

Kyle shrugged. “Mothers love me.”

“Mothers with teenaged daughters love you,” Lia sulked. She didn’t know how mother’s with gay sons felt about him.

Sea

The water lapped over her toes and her breath came in sharply. “Oh, that’s cold.”

Gil laughed, low and dark. The sound went perfectly with the rolling of the waves.

“I forget that sometimes.”

Lia frowned, searching his face. Just now, he almost seemed like someone else. “Forget what?”

He looked out over the ocean, seeing something she couldn’t, never would. The Gil she knew was a million miles away right now. The Gil that remained was intriguing, and a little frightening.

His hand in hers seemed to grow warm, a steady tide of new water coming in, mixing with the cold to make eddies and swirls. None of it affected the real water, the ocean they stood in. But they way she experienced it, the way it felt…

“That the ocean isn’t the same for everyone. That when you step into the sea, you step only into this sea.”

She felt a little dizzy, breathless. Lia leaned into that strong warmth.

“I stand in all oceans and all seas and all tides at all times. When I am near the water, it calls to me, sings to me of who I am, who I could be….”

His voice sounded both far away and so close.

“And who’s that?”

He seemed to shake himself, coming back to her with a soft smile.

“No one I’d want to be. I’d rather stay here with you.”

Lia nodded, squeezing his hand. He felt more solid again, more like the Gil she knew, even if the moonlight still painted him in those strange shades. “I like you here with me too.”

His smile grew and he pulled her close, turning so that they were face to face. This was the point where he’d usually make some comment about how he should get her back, or it was late, or any number of things that left her confused and disappointed. But instead, he lowered his face to hers, lips hesitating only a moment before he kissed her.

Kitchen

Lia poked his bicep, pleased at the firmness there. "You do a lot of gardening?"

"I do."

His voice was thick and rough, no matter his attempts to smooth it. She kept touching him, and the heat in him kept burning hotter and hotter--

"The corn!"

Gil practically lunged for the grill, blinking back tears as a billow of smoke rose up with the lid.

She jumped as he grabbed the grill, then waved the smoke out of her face.

Lia grimaced. Maybe she shouldn't have been distracting Gil while he cooked.

She peeked around him, relishing the heat despite the smoke. "Is it okay?"

He fished an ear out with the tongs, relieved to see that it was mostly unharmed.

"Yeah. I just meant to turn them sooner."

He turned all the cobs, grinning sheepishly as he worked.

"I always seem to lose my head when you're around."

She laughed, wrinkling her nose. "I was just thinking I was going to end up getting banned from the kitchen. Probably shouldn't garden with you either, I'm terrible with plants."

"I like having you in the kitchen."

Oh, there was the soft Gil she loved so much. When his voice went all quiet, like secrets whispered laying in bed late at night, with only the stars and each other to hear you...

Lia blinked, feeling that weird double place thing again. She was getting used to the boys bleeding over, almost. When it happened in moments like this, she didn’t mind so much.

He closed the lid and stepped over to the porch rail, leaning back against it with his hands spread to either side. Smiling, Lia decided to take a little more of matters into her own hands and followed him, pressing herself into his warm chest.

"Snuggle me," she murmured. "Its cold out here with the grill closed."

His arms went around her, slowly, carefully, but oh so right. She burrowed in closer with a happy sigh, arms slipping around his waist.

"You could always go inside," he said, lips brushing the top of her head. He didnt seem inclined to let her go.

"I could," she agreed, fingers playing over the small of his back. "But I'd rather be out here with you."

King (I’m using Lord, since “King” isn’t really the title used in Faery)

“We have to go back to… Explain why we haven’t come back, basically.” Gil offered, not looking happy about the prospect.

“Plead your case?” Kyle offered and Gil nodded with a sigh.

“So what’s the worst that happens?”

Gil didn’t like that question, grimacing and looking away.

Tybee scoffed. “Nothing. My father can’t force me to stay home like some errant child. He’ll bitch and we’ll leave. It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing, Tybee.” Gil ground out.

“He just wants to know why I like it over here so much.” Tybee countered. “It isn’t as if anything’s happened to concern him.”

“Except that Erumond isn’t here and something might happen to you.”

Tybee glared. “I don’t need a protection service. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

Gil sighed. “Hope Lord Oberon thinks so.”

“Lord Oberon?” Kyle asked as Lia blinked.

“Tybee’s father.” Gil said offhand.

“Tybee’s dad is Oberon? Like, Midsummer Night’s Dream?”

Tybee shrugged a shoulder. “My family’s been fans of the Bard for centuries. Custom or some such.”

At Kyle’s continued interest, Tybee began to smile wickedly, a sign that he’d thought of something someone wasn’t going to like, but that he was going to really enjoy.

“Kyle,” he purred as Gil gave him a worried look, “Lia, how would you like to see Otherside?”

“What?” Gil yelped. “No, Tybee.”

“School’s out for the summer, no one’s taking summer classes – you two could travel with us. See our home.” Tybee continued as if Gil wasn’t actively telling him it was a bad idea.

Future

Lia was taken aback by the idea, but as usual, Kyle was all for it. He touched her arm, grinning at the idea of adventure. He’d always been the more outgoing of the two of them. “You were saying earlier that you didn’t know what you were going to do for a Senior’s project. This is the perfect time to start looking for inspiration, Panda Bear.”

Gil looked troubled as he leaned back in his seat.

“Is it really a bad idea?” She asked him.

He looked uncomfortable. He chewed on his lip, trying to think of the right thing to say. Something to balance his promise to always be forthright with her in the future, and not earning Tybee’s ire.

“I don’t know what’s waiting for us,” he finally said. “After Erumond…” He shot a furtive glance to Tybee. “I just don’t know what to expect. That in and of itself is dangerous in Faery.”

“All of Faery is dangerous.” Tybee’s words were light, delivered with an airy wave of the hand. “That’s why I make a point of never traveling it alone.”

Gil stared at him a moment, before understanding dawned. “The caravan...”

Tybee nodded. “One and the same. They’ll be passing back through Mortalside in about a week’s time, somewhere upstate. I can ask through the feyhouse networks about their location, though I have a good guess.” His grin turned even more pleased. “I thought we might wait at one of the beach houses. Take in a little sun.”

Something about that prospect seemed to relax Gil. He didn’t quite smile, but Lia could see the start of one.

“Ooh, the beach.” Kyle cooed. “I’ve always wanted to go to the beach, Lia...”

She held a hand up before he could start making puppy eyes at her. “I never said no, Kyle.” She shrugged a shoulder, but she was smiling. “If it isn’t dangerous, it sounds like fun.”

Tybee clapped his hands together, beaming. “Oh it will be.” Then he launched off on the virtues of this or that place, Kyle eagerly gobbling up the details.

tagging back @homesteadchronicles @urbanteeth@inky-duchess to find: Ride, Run, Dark, and Corner

Foxes and Fate Tag List @lordkingsmith @mariahwritesstuff @silver-wields-a-pen @jessiwritesbad @writinginslowmotion @alessia-writes @abalonetea @worldbuildingwren @soupopoireau @livvywrites @adie-dee @bookish-actor @wineandpensareallineed @dawnoftheagez @pied-piper-of-hamlet @dahl-my-life @sybil-writes @pluttskutt @moonflower-writing

#tag games #writeblr tag games #find the word tag #foxes and fate

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jaynaneeya · 5 years

Text

And Then There Were More

To be clear, the entirety of Edgar Allan Poe’s Murder Mystery Dinner Party is perfect and I wouldn’t have it any other way, but here’s what I think might have happened if Chapter 5 had gone slightly differently.

***

“Miss Agatha Christie, we are indeed – Eddie?” Edgar Allan Poe gasped.

Agatha Christie was standing just outside the door, with a man whose arm she was twisting behind his back. The man was unmistakably Eddie Dantes, and he was very much alive. “You know him?” Agatha asked Edgar, releasing her grip on Eddie. “He just tried to stab me,” she added, holding up the small knife she had wrestled from his hand.

“I thought she was the murderer!” Eddie protested, massaging his wrist, as Edgar, Lenore, Emily, and HG all gaped at him in astonishment.

“The murderer?” Christie repeated.

“People have been dying here all night, right?” Eddie appealed to the others.

“Yeah, and you were one of them!” snapped Lenore. “How are you alive? And what are you doing out here?”

Before Eddie could reply, they all heard a scream. They hurried in the direction of the sound, and found Oscar Wilde pounding on the bathroom door, calling, “Mary Ann!”

“What’s going on? Where’s Annabel?” Edgar demanded.

“She went to find you,” Oscar told him. “Wait, Eddie? Are you…a ghost?”

“No, I’m alive, I was just…pretending to be dead, so I could catch the murderer.”

“But… you were the first victim,” HG pointed out. “When you faked your death, there was no murderer to catch yet.”

“George Eliot’s in trouble; let’s talk about this later,” Emily interjected, pushing her way to the front of the group and forcing in the door.

To their dismay, George Eliot was slumped on the floor, with his/her head in a picture frame. While everyone else was frozen in shock, Annabel Lee rushed in. “There you are! What’s-” she stopped suddenly. “Eddie?!” she cried. “You’re alive?!” she threw her arms around him.

“Yes, my dear, I’m so sorry, I-”

“She’s still breathing!” Edgar exclaimed, unsure whether he was more excited that George Eliot was still alive or that it gave him an excuse to interrupt Eddie and Annabel.

To Edgar’s delight, Annabel immediately broke away from Eddie and knelt beside George, who gasped and opened his/her eyes. “I have something important to say.”

“Yes? Who did this to you?” Annabel asked.

“You may not believe it, but I –” taking off the hat, “George Eliot –” and the mustache, “am a woman.”

“Yes, dear, we knew that already, but who-?” but George Eliot had died.

Annabel turned back to Eddie. “How are you alive?” she asked.

“Wait!” Edgar interrupted dramatically. “Where’s Ernest?”

“Let me get this straight,” Agatha Christie broke in. “There’s a murderer in this house, and you’re not keeping track of where everyone is at all times?”

“He was with us in the vault right before you arrived,” HG told her defensively.

“Maybe he’s in the study with Charlotte,” Emily suggested.

“Why aren’t you all staying together?” wondered the baffled Miss Christie. “No wonder you’re all dying. How many deaths have there been so far?”

“Five,” said Edgar.

“Four,” Oscar corrected, nodding to Eddie.

“Okay, now are you going to tell us how you’re still alive?” Lenore asked.

“First let’s make sure Ernest and Charlotte are okay. Then I’ll explain everything,” Eddie promised.

They all returned to the study. Charlotte was tied to the chair, just as they’d left her. Ernest was standing near the doorway, holding a bunch of knives, looking confused. “Where were you?” he asked them.

“We could ask you the same question,” Oscar countered. “What are you doing with all those knives?”

“I brought them for everyone, for protection.”

Agatha groaned and sank into a chair, her face in her hands. “You all are the worst!”

“Who’s she?” Hemingway asked.

“Agatha Christie,” Eddie responded.

“Aren’t you supposed to be dead?” Charlotte asked him. “And aren’t you all satisfied that I can’t be the murderer? How am I still tied up?”

As Ernest used one of his knives to cut through the wires that bound Charlotte, Eddie finally began his tale. “As soon as I took a bite of my soup, I could tell that something was wrong with it.”

“How dare you?!” Lenore cried.

“Someone had clearly poisoned it. I could tell they were trying to kill me, so I decided my best hope of escaping death was to pretend to be dead already. I’ve been trying to catch the murderer, and I thought I’d been successful when I saw Miss Christie at the door.” He glared at her. “I’m still not convinced I was wrong. Where have you been all this time?”

“I told Edgar I was going to be late, as I had a previous engagement. I got here as soon as I could, which wasn’t nearly soon enough, apparently, but shockingly, I don’t expect everywhere I go to give me inspiration for my next mystery novel.”

Emily spoke up. “I had some of the soup.”

“Is that how you died?” Charlotte asked.

“I’m still alive!”

“Which means the soup wasn’t poisoned, and Eddie’s lying!” Edgar hastily concluded.

“Did you eat soup out of my bowl?” Eddie asked.

“No, out of the pot in the kitchen.”

“Then perhaps someone just poisoned my bowl.”

“It must have been Lenore,” Oscar asserted. “She’s the one who served the soup with her weird ghost powers.”

“Okay, will someone please coherently explain exactly what has happened here tonight?” Agatha requested. “I need to know what I missed in order to solve this mystery.”

“I am clearly the best at explaining things concisely,” Ernest bragged, taking a swig from his flask.

“You’re also drunk,” Edgar pointed out, “and as this is my house, I will tell Miss Christie what’s going on.”

Edgar explained as best he could the events surrounding the fake death of Eddie and the real deaths of Louisa May Alcott, Mary Shelley, Fyodor Dostoevsky, and George Eliot. The expression on Agatha Christie’s face grew more and more incredulous as he described their reactions, and she burst out with a loud “WHAT?!” when he mentioned that they had split up to search the house.

“And aside from the vial of poison with the blood on it, you’ve found no clues whatsoever?” Agatha asked him when he’d concluded.

“None,” he confirmed. He hadn’t mentioned the handkerchief because it seemed to implicate Annabel, though the tender way she’d been caressing Eddie’s hand throughout his tale had almost tempted him to do so. Poe glared at the others present, daring them to mention it, but no one was saying anything.

Agatha considered carefully for a moment. “It almost makes sense… Edgar, what painting did you have in your bathroom that George Eliot could have been murdered with?”

Edgar raised an eyebrow. “What kind of person has paintings in their bathroom?”

“I have five in mine,” Oscar remarked.

“What happened to your sleeve?” Agatha asked him.

“Ugh, Miss Brontë spilled wine on it. I was going to change, but I didn’t get the chance,” he added, putting his jacket back on to hide the stain.

“Because you insisted that George go into the bathroom,” Annabel said accusatorially.

“She was covered in birdie bits! I was being a gentleman.”

“Shall we all return to the washroom to see what that painting was?” HG suggested.

“No matter, I know what it was now, thank you,” Agatha responded, to the others’ astonishment.

After a long enough pause to make clear that she was not intending on saying anything further, Ernest blurted out, “So, what was it?”

“What? Oh, a painting of Oscar Wilde, of course. But what I don’t understand is how… there must be… but who…?” she trailed off pensively.

“Eddie, darling, who do you think was trying to kill you?” Annabel asked quietly, trying not to disturb Agatha.

“I don’t know, my dear. I can’t think of any enemies or rivals I might have.” He stared pointedly at Poe.

Annabel followed his gaze. Edgar had clearly overheard them and was fuming. “No, Edgar couldn’t do this,” she insisted. “He’s a good man.”

Eddie snorted. “A good man?” he repeated loudly. “He can’t even hold a dinner party that more than half his guests survive!”

“Hey, way less than half have died!” Edgar objected.

“Yeah, so far,” Eddie scoffed. “Obviously the safest thing was to pretend to be dead.”

“I’m missing something…” Agatha muttered.

“M-may I make a suggestion?” HG stammered.

“By all means,” Edgar sighed.

“If Miss Christie needs more assistance, per- perhaps Lenore could, uh, contact the psychic who conjured her ghost to, uh, summon some of the people who died here tonight? I’m sure at least one of them saw whomever killed them.”

“Surely Miss Christie can solve this murder without the assistance of ghosts,” Eddie asserted.

Agatha considered him carefully. “Miss Christie would be very interested to hear what the ghosts might say,” she informed him.

“Great, I’ll contact Krishanti!” Lenore sounded more cheerful than anyone had all evening.

When Krishanti entered the study, her eyes were immediately drawn to Eddie, the man who was constantly pestering her to bring back his brother. But he pointedly avoided her gaze, so Krishanti followed his lead and hid her recognition. When Guy’s ghost appeared, however, Eddie couldn’t help letting out an audible gasp. When the others stared at him, he quickly whispered, “Who is that? He didn’t die in this house tonight, right?” at which point Guy started his speech, which Charlotte then interrupted by sneezing and blowing out Krishanti’s candle.

As Krishanti hurried out in search of sage, Agatha asked, “Who was that?”

“Guy de Vere, my fiancé,” Lenore responded. “Krishanti could never bring him back, until now apparently.”

“Ah, I see.” Agatha turned to Annabel. “And why did he point to you and say you weren’t a bell?”

Annabel shrugged. “I thought he was saying I wasn’t able, though to do what I’m sure I don’t know.”

“Maybe he was saying she wasn’t A. Bell, like that handkerchief we found in Miss Alcott’s mouth,” Emily suggested.

Agatha turned to Emily enthusiastically. “You found a handkerchief that said A. Bell on it?!” she exclaimed.

Emily blushed and looked at the floor. “Well, not exactly. I mean, I didn’t find it, and it didn’t exactly say A. Bell. It just had the letter A and a picture of a bell. Miss Brontë seemed to think it was Annabel’s, but maybe that ghost was saying it wasn’t.”

Agatha rounded on Edgar. “And you didn’t think this was important enough to tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to think that the beautiful, sweet, innocent, beautiful Annabel Lee could have had anything to do with-”

“Oh, how tiresome of you!” exclaimed Agatha. “That was the piece I was missing. We could have avoided this whole séance if you’d just told me everything like I asked. Well, come on, everyone, we have to stop her!” She started toward the door, but no one followed.

“Er, stop whom?” Oscar asked. “And from what?”

“Stop Anne Brontë from murdering Krishanti, of course!”

“Anne Brontë?” Lenore repeated. “You mean Charlotte?”

“Well, I would, if she wasn’t standing right there. Don’t you see? It must be the other one. Look, I’ll explain in a moment. First, Edgar and Lenore lead the way to the kitchen, which is where I assume Krishanti was headed. I’ll bring up the rear to make sure no one is left behind. Just hurry!”

When they arrived at the kitchen, Krishanti was dialing a number on the telephone, but she wasn’t alone. A woman most of them had never seen before was slowly approaching the psychic, holding a large knife. “Hey!” Lenore shouted, causing Kristanti to jump and drop the phone. When she saw the knife she started to scream, but the woman immediately lowered it and feigned a look of innocence.

“Who are you?” Edgar demanded of the stranger.

“I’m Anne Brontë. So sorry I’m late for dinner, I was just looking for the food.”

“Good luck finding any,” snorted Ernest.

“Anne Brontë wasn’t on our list, was she?” Annabel asked Eddie.

“Wait a minute,” said Edgar, “Eddie told you whom I should invite?!”

Agatha glared at him. “Haven’t you figured it out yet, Mr. Poe?”

Edgar furrowed his brow. “I’m getting there. But what does any of this have to do with A. Bell?”

Agatha pointed to Anne. “Her pen name is Acton Bell. I knew that Eddie and Charlotte were in on this, but as neither of them could have killed George Eliot, there had to be a third person. I couldn’t figure out if it was one of you or someone else, at least until you told me about the handkerchief.”

“What made you think I had anything to do with this?” Charlotte cried.

“You had the greatest opportunity to kill Dostoevsky, and you obviously stained Wilde’s shirt to send him to his death in the washroom.”

Oscar gasped. “You did that on purpose?!”

“Why would I work with someone who was about to foreclose on my house?” Charlotte countered.

“I imagine he told you he’d let you keep your house if you helped him. I also assume he offered to help you cover up the murder of Jane Austen.”

“How can you possibly know about that?” Anne wondered.

Agatha smiled. “Who do you think you’re dealing with?”

“You must be making a mistake, Miss Christie,” said Annabel. “Eddie’s a great guy.”

“Then why would he fake his own death before people started dying? And why would he cheat on you with both Charlotte and Oscar?”

“I thought he was dating me!” Anne protested.

“Ha, in your dreams,” scoffed Oscar.

Annabel had let go of Eddie’s hand and began to shrink away from him, her eyes widening in horror. “Eddie? It’s not true, is it? It can’t be.”

But Eddie was ignoring her, his eyes fixed on Agatha Christie. To everyone’s astonishment and confusion, he suddenly began to clap slowly. The Brontës attempted to join in, but he silenced them and continued his solo slow clap. When this had gone on far longer than anyone else was comfortable with, he stopped clapping and said, “Congratulations, Miss Christie. You figured it out.”

Agatha rolled her eyes. “Of course I did. You knew I would, or you wouldn’t have tried to kill me before I arrived.”

“But, why would you do this, Eddie?” cried Annabel.

He opened his mouth, but before he could reply, Agatha said, “Because he’s Guy de Vere’s brother and a descendant of Edward de Vere, who claimed that Shakespeare stole his work, so he’s trying to get revenge on authors.”

Looking very disappointed at having his villain monologue stolen, Eddie asked, “How could you possibly know that?”

“It was perfectly evident that you and Krishanti recognized each other, and that you recognized the ghost of Guy de Vere. That combined with the fact that all the authors were killed in manners that reflected their work made this the only logical solution.”

“Enough chatter, let’s call the police!” Ernest shouted, a bit louder than necessary.

As Ernest lunged toward the phone, Charlotte pulled a gun out of nowhere and pointed it at him. He leapt back automatically as the others gasped. “No one goes near that phone,” Charlotte ordered.

“It doesn’t matter,” said Agatha. “The police should be here any minute anyway.”

“Why should the police come?” Anne sneered. “Nobody’s called them. We’ve been watching the phone all night. Krishanti’s call was interrupted by all of you, and no one else has used it.”

“Nobody needed to call them,” Agatha responded calmly. “A few days ago, I staged my own disappearance. After making sure it was being investigated, I led a very clear trail to this house. They’ll be here soon.”

“You said you didn’t expect everywhere you go to provide inspiration for your next novel,” Charlotte reminded her.

“Not everywhere I go, certainly, but a murder mystery dinner party at Edgar Allan Poe’s house? It would have been foolish not to take some precautions.”

At that moment, the doorbell rang. Charlotte jumped and dropped the gun; Agatha quickly retrieved it. “I suppose that must be the police. Or were you expecting anyone else, Edgar?”

“No, I don’t think so. Unless Emily Dickinson decided to finally show up.”

“She’s right there,” Agatha told him, nodding toward Emily, who beamed. Agatha pointed the gun at each of the murderers. “Right, you three, let’s go answer the door.”

Everyone followed Agatha and the murderers out of the kitchen except Annabel. When Edgar noticed she wasn’t with them in the hall, he turned back to join her. She was crying softly. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“I courted Eddie because I thought my family would approve. He seemed like such a respectable, great guy. I never imagined he was capable of something like this.”

Edgar didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t understand, Edgar. I’m trying to say that I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Annabel. I know you wouldn’t have brought him if you knew he was going to kill people.”

“I mean, I’m sorry for wasting time we could have spent together.”

This was the last thing Edgar had expected. He was sure he had misheard. “What do you mean?”

Annabel took his hand and smiled through her tears. “I mean, I never loved Eddie. It was always you.”

***

Agatha Christie opened the front door triumphantly.

“Are you Mr. Allan Poe?” asked Constable Jim.

She stared at him in astonishment for a moment. “Um… no. I’m Agatha Christie.”

“Hey, we found her!” Constable Jimmy exclaimed.

“You’re going to want backup,” Agatha told them. “These three all need to be arrested for murder.” She handed the gun to Emily. “Miss Dickinson, hold them until backup arrives. I’m going to go home and divorce my unfaithful husband.”

#poe party #poeparty #edgar allan poe's murder mystery dinner party #fanfic #see if you can spot the clue references #this isn't nearly as good as what really happened #but at least significantly more people survive

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plus-size-reader · 5 years

Text

How the Riddler got his Name

Edward Nygma x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1324 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Reader and Ed have a ‘complicated relationship’ She finds out he’s a criminal but doesn’t have the exact opinion he was expecting. Maybe there could be more to their feelings than he’d thought?

———————————————————————————————————

You were sitting on your couch at the time of the recording, news flashing across your television screen in bright red letters. Edward Nygma had finally lost it, and had gassed an entire room of GCPD cadets.

You felt as if you should have been more surprised by what you were hearing. Like you should have felt bad, or shocked but all you wanted to know was if he was okay. There had to be something wrong with you, you were confident in that now but it couldn't be helped.

No matter how hard you tried, you just wanted to be with Eddie, to help him in any way that he needed. If he wanted to be a super villain like something out of a novel, you'd help him if that was what it took.

It didn't matter to you that your relationship had never really went anywhere all those months ago. You still cared for Edward, and you couldn't help but feel that he needed you, wherever in the world he was.

You couldn't do it.

You wouldn't.

You just couldn't.

Why were you reaching for the phone? For what reason did you want to be a part of this? If you really thought about it. You didn't have a reason to be so loyal to Eddie, or to even care in the least. It was possible that you were just bored out of your mind, and that was why you were acting out.

You hadn't been into work at the GCPD in weeks, and no one had called or texted to check on you. You were feeling sorry for yourself, you knew that but that didn't stop you from dialing Ed's number and hitting that big button in the center.

The phone rang for a few moments, and then stopped. Before you knew what was happening, there was a voice on the other end, hushed and odd but a voice that you still recognized.

It was Edward.

"Ed...I saw you on the news" You started, taking a breath. You needed a second to collect your thoughts but in that time, Edward had already began to formulate a plan that would bring you both even closer, he just didn't know it yet. "Are you afraid of me Y/N?" He wondered, sounding more genuinely curious than malicious.

You weren't all that sure how to answer him, if you were being honest. You weren't afraid of Edward Nygma, but this new side of him was a completely different story. "I don't think so...I was just wondering if you're okay?"

Nygma was shocked. You were calling him, after finding out what he'd done, to make sure he was alright. It didn't make any sense. Your concern intrigued him at the very least, it was interesting and filled him with questions.

"Where are you?" he asked, his voice so close to the receiver of the phone that you almost missed it, almost.

It took a second for you to decide that it was worth trusting him. The idea of him, tracking you down didn't inspire too much confidence but there was also a part of you that knew Ed would never hurt you.

You two had always had an interesting relationship, constantly dancing around the feelings you knew you had for one another, and never admitting to them. There was something almost romantic about his gesture, because even though he didn't say what he was going to do, somehow you knew.

It was clear that Edward was going to come get you, that you would become his partner in crime, or his confidant. It was obvious that your interactions with Ed Nygma were far from over so you agreed to his terms and told him that you were in your apartment.

Before you knew it, there was a knock on your door. It was slight against the glass and meant only to be heard if you were looking out for it, which you happened to be doing.

"Hello Edward" You greeted, opening the door with little to no hesitation. It was getting increasingly more strange the longer you were near him. You knew that you should be afraid of him but you just couldn't make yourself do it.

You were interested in him, and his feelings for you. Clearly, the man felt something for you or he wouldn't have come in the first place. There was too much history between you for him to make you some small kill that could easily be blamed on some minor criminal.

All of Edward's crimes were calculated and served a purpose, and killing you just wouldn't be that high on the list. A simple fact that was sort of comforting as you stared up at him.

Stared into the eyes of a killer.

"Hello Y/N, are you having a nice evening?" He questioned, his posture straight but relaxed as he waiting for your answer. He was talking to you like a man who had been your friend all your lives. It was somewhat amusing if you looked at it the right way.

"My evening is going great Edward, how is your unfolding?" you wondered, catching on to the amusing game of cat and mouse Eddie was obviously in the mood for. "I'd say it's more intriguing now" he shrugged, offering you a hand which you slowly took.

You didn't know what he wanted your hand for but didn't ask questions. Even when he grabbed your wrist and pulled you along with him out of your home and into the hall, you said nothing. It was easy to just follow Ed, he inspired so much confidence in you, and this new side of him was so charming and confident.

He really was growing into his skin and it was amazing to watch. You felt fortunate to be able to get a front row seat.

"Oh, and where are we going?" you asked, understanding there was a good chance he wasn't going to tell you until you got there. "Just enjoy the ride puppet" he hummed, opening your car door first, and then getting in on the drivers side.

He didn't bother to blindfold you, which seemed odd but also helped you relax a little because it didn't seem like he was going to kill you. If he wanted you to know where you were going, that meant if you did escape, he didn't want you in the middle of nowhere.

The most comforting thing was when you finally did find your destination, it was simply Edward's apartment.

You'd been here a thousand times before, for dinners and nights of intellectual conversation but something about it felt different. The front door was unlocked when you arrived, because either the GCPD had been there, or they were on their way.

"Tell me Eddie, have you decided on a name?" you questioned, looking around the room for things that stood out. It wasn't until your eyes fell on a painting in the middle of the room that you got it.

The painting was of Oswald but painted over it, a bright green question mark, now dried and cemented against the canvas. It was beautiful, and instantly reminded you of something you'd once seen on the side of Ed's favorite coffee mug.

"I've got it, The Riddler...it's perfect Eddie" You hummed, clapping your hands together a few times excitedly. The media had yet to brand him with a nickname but it would seem that you took it upon yourself to make it happen, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't pleased.

"The Riddler, it does have a ring to it" he allowed, grinning happily for only a second before letting his face fall again. Maybe he hadn't given your relationship enough thought before, you could be the edge he was missing before. You were his other half, and he needed you to be the best killer he could be.

He could see that now.

#edward nygma #edward nygma x plus size reader #edward nygma x ps reader #The Riddler #the riddler x ps reader #the riddler x plus size reader #Gotham #gotham x plus size reader #gotham x ps reader

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