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sunshinemunchkin · 2 years

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Finger Painting: Part 2

pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

summary: after coming up with a new hobby of painting portraits on skin, instead of canvases, you and aaron decide to make it a traditional activity of all sorts. (part 2: a night of gentle and seemingly innocent touches leaves aaron needing you in more ways than he thinks he does.)

warnings: 18+, smut, switch hotch, oral (female receiving), breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, fluff, use of italics, let me know if i missed anything

word count: 6.1k i know i’m sorry

a/n: my first two parter! this one’s gonna be a three parter but- anyways get ready 👀 but thank you for all the love on the first part <3 ily all. part one here

>>>>

“tickles, y/n!” jack’s little giggles filled the room with light and love as you dragged the washable paint across his little back.

eyeing aaron who was stroking his son’s hair while you decorated his skin with shades of blue and green, you couldn’t help but notice how in love he looked. his eyes relaxed and soft as his gaze flitted between you and jack.

admiring aaron's wide smile as you both painted doodles of flowers and hearts on jack’s freckled back, the masterpiece that you and him previously worked in together drying on his skin. jack had signed, 'jack hotchner', at the base of his fathers back in black paint sitting comfortably next to your own name he made you sign. the young boy stated that he learned in school how all the great artists signed their art and claimed it as theirs so no one would steal it.

the saying meant something different to you, however you didn’t need to tell the seven year old that. aaron held his hand out for a paintbrush so he could draw something on his son, you granting him his wish, watched his actions.

he dipped it in the bright yellow paint on the pallet and began forming a sun high in the sky, rays extending every which way. you started to make a green hill, your mind wandering slightly and your smile growing as you sunk into the comfortable vibe of the room. on the hill, there stood a little boy with a red hat that you were sure jack owned as well. in his hand a pinwheel that aaron painted for you with extra care and attention.

you swirled your finger in the red paint on the boys back, his soft laughs carrying in the air as you did so. tapping his little nose with the painted finger, he giggles loudly and squirms around. aaron, trying to avoid the situation of paint on his rug, held his sons shoulders down so he wouldn’t turn over and laugh like he knew he would. with a small kiss placed to his head, aaron smiled at his son as he made funny faces up at him and called himself a clown.

“wack-o jack-o, would be your name.” he said, teasing the boy who scrunched his nose up as he broke out into a fit of giggles. he looked so alive, his features mimicking aaron’s whenever he laughed and you couldn’t help but be in awe of how similar they looked to one another.

aaron turned to you, catching your admiring gaze and tossing a toothy grin at you. you returned the favor, leaning over to tap the man’s nose with the leftover paint that resided on your finger. jack interrupted your moment with your boyfriend, complaining that the paint was drying and he wanted to see his masterpiece before the sun had fully set and it would time for bed.

the next few minutes were spent with you detailing as aaron spoke softly to his son to keep him calm, watching as you focused intently on the marks and intricacies that you danced across the boys back. jack talked his dad’s ear off about soccer and school, aaron happy to listen as if he hadn’t heard all of it before. but he was just grateful for this rare time that he had with jack. he and his son had a beautiful relationship that you loved to watch. how relaxed aaron became when he was at home, how happy jack got to finally talk with his dad about anything and everything.

after a while, you step back from the boys. you reach for aaron’s phone, smiling at the memory of the same motion you had made when you guys had first done this activity. one that had left you being railed by aaron on the couch in your apartment when you had first done this activity. the reminder created a flush of heat to course throughout your body as you forced yourself to push the thought aside for the time being.

aaron caught the hesitation in your actions, smirking to himself at the familiarity of it all. recalling that night with you and how in love he was- is- with you. how much fun your endeavors from that night were and the different feel of it all. the messiness of the paint, among other things, that got everywhere made him feel like a young man again, it brought life to his veins. you brought life back to him. when haley died, aaron was unsure if he would ever find that comfort again. that peace he had at the beginning of his relationship with her. that sweetness.

instead he found something so much better. something new and fresh. lively and yet relaxing at the same time. you always knew him better than he knew himself sometimes. when his overworked mind clouded his judgment about what he needed in that moment it all faded to dust at the slightest contact of your skin on his. the second that your hands touched him, forcing his tired bones to sit down and just breathe for what felt like the first time in so long. he felt renewed. he felt alive with you.

so in this moment, while you snapped a couple of pictures of both his and jack’s artwork that had been completed, he fell in love all over again. the smile on his face grew with each giggle that you let out. with this new stage in his life, he wanted to give you everything that he had of himself, the amount of love you had poured out for both him and his son overwhelming. accepting both of them with open arms and a wide grin on your face as if you just won the lottery. and in your eyes, you did.

you couldn’t imagine anything better than saturday nights with your boys. aaron looking ten years younger as opposed to a work night when he had the whole world weighing on his shoulders. you were grateful for the moments that you three got to spend together, even the two of you, whether that be aaron or with jack. you enjoyed their company just as much as they enjoyed yours.

on jack’s back, was a mixed up portrait of a boyish figure, staring up at the blue sky which held dozens of hot air balloons. the doodles you and aaron turned into beautiful pieces of material that floated in the air with a sunset behind them. when you showed the boy the picture his face broke out into a wide grin, his dimple very much exposed. “it’s perfect, y/n! i like it!” you felt an overwhelming amount of pride and love for the boy as he kissed your cheek. your combined giggles with jack's filled the air before you allowed for him to sit up and so the paint had a chance to dry.

he went to play with his legos, the act of sitting still for so long having made him antsy to focus on something else. you sat next to aaron on the couch and looked over the artwork on his own toned back. a scene of a house by a lake rested atop his skin with slightly messy clouds drawn in by jack, an out of place sun with a smiley face against a blue sky. the result of both of your artistic abilities splayed out across the loved man's muscles.

“hi.” you spoke softly, nudging his shoulder which prompted him to wrap an arm around you and kiss the top of your head. inhaling before speaking, aaron took that time to make a memory of you two with your boy. him succumbing to the terrifying yet fitting thought of you being a permanent part of his and jack’s lives.

watching as the child before you built a tall tower and make the little man climb up it, you couldn’t help but think about your life with aaron. the thought of a home filled with life and love satisfying your heart, aaron at the center of it all.

peeking at the art on his back, you kiss aaron’s shoulder. a mole- your favorite one- captured underneath your lips as your nipped and bit at the mans flesh, the innocent touch turned intimate. a soft sigh escaped from aaron’s lips, a new red mark forming on his skin from your mouth. “babe.” his voice was low as he didn’t want to draw jack’s attention to what was happening a mere ten feet away from him.

you were very obviously trying to rile the man up, is what was happening. trying to get him to crumble so that you’ll have him in the palm of your hand; soft and pliable. and it was working, slowly but surely as you hummed against aaron’s shoulder, his eyes shutting at the contact of your tongue with his warm skin.

your mouth traveled upwards to nip at his ear, eyes darting over to jack and seeing how he had moved on to play with his cars, quietly humming to himself as he did so. aaron's face grew redder with each kiss that you pressed against on his neck, the temperature between you two increasing. sinking your teeth into the man's earlobe, he let out a soft hiss, your smirk planting itself against his flushed skin.

"daddy?" you pull away as quickly as you could before jack could realize what was happening between you and his dad. aaron, with a slight huskiness to his voice, locked his wide eyes onto his now sleepy son.

you laugh softly to yourself before the man beside you wrapped an arm around you and kissed the top of your head. "yeah bud." aaron noticed how jack's eyes were drooping along with his head, his soft yawns sounding to confirm the thought.

slowly, aaron rose to pick up the boy. cradling him to his chest and groaning softly at how he got still drying paint on his palm when unconsciously pressing it against jack's back purely out of habit. you stifled a laugh and followed him upstairs to wet a cloth to wash the boy's back off. "no. wanna keep it." aaron and you shared a sad smile at jack's protests and the destruction of his artwork.

"bubby, if we don't clean you up, you'll get all itchy." with that short explanation, aaron sat jack on the counter in aaron's bathroom. you dragged the warm cloth against his small back, taking away all evidence of any hot air balloons or a grassy field.

once the process was complete, leaving the boy dry with some red and blue residual paint stains from the previous masterpiece. by the time that you were done, jack was resting his head on your shoulder, having fallen fully asleep due to the soothing motion on his back.

aaron laughed at his two loves, following behind you while you carried him into his room. placing the boy in his bed, he let his head fall heavily onto the pillow, aaron pressing a kiss into his blonde hair as soft puffs of air left his lips. you smiled at the scene, brushing back the boy's locks from his eyes as he leaned into you, earning a kiss from you as well. aaron admiring the scene in return.

when you two finally had made your way out of the boy's room with a soft click of his door, aaron's arms were around you, smiling into the crook of your neck. you giggled softly against him, your nose falling against his temple, into his head of hair as he picked you up by the back of your thighs and carried you back into the bathroom.

he placed you on the counter just as he had done with jack, your lips meeting his and a smile being shared between the two of you. "you're so good with him." aaron spoke, a smile spreading out across his lips and leading up to his eyes when he pulled away to execute the sentence.

humming against aaron, your hands tugged at his brown locks. "he's easy to love." you pull aaron's face away from where he was placing numerous amounts of kisses and hickies to your neck to kiss his reddened lips. the man simply responded by slipping his hands underneath the edge of your shirt. you knew what he wanted, a request to which you complied, granting him permission to remove it from your body.

but before you could return the favor and untie the string of his sweats, aaron pulled away, moving to turn on the hot water, letting the steam bounce off the tiles in the room and cling to the mirror, beginning the condensation process. you bite your lip at how his back muscles flexed with each and every movement that he conducted. the painting on his skin rippling and mimicking the appearance of moving water; it was if you were there at the house on the lake.

turning back to you, aaron caught your gaze. his eyes raking over your semi nude body, sitting on the counter in your sports bra and shorts, already leaving little to the imagination. a small smirk escaped the man as he sauntered back over to you and you were able to finally undo the tie on his waist, aaron helping you by peeling down his sweats and boxers in one swift motion.

you resisted the obvious urge to lick your lips as you drank in the sight of aaron, half hard, and staring at you with the same exact look. aaron licked his lips for the both of you, signaling for you to lift your arms, his nimble fingers immediately tending to peel your bra off. and once your breasts were bore to him, the man couldn't help but dip his head down and bring one of them into his mouth, eyes peering up at you to catch your reaction.

your breath hitched at the sight of seeing aaron in such a submissive position. underneath you like this; putty. and with his very audible moan against your skin, something snapped inside of you. your hand slipped up the back of his neck, your nails dragging in the paint on his back, unearthing it and the colors caking underneath your nails, even more moans being elicited from aaron's throat.

"what's the matter, baby?" your tone was slightly teasing, aaron's pupils completely blown out at the words that left your lips. he said nothing before separating from you and heaving you off the counter. your shorts were pried off with more than enough haste before aaron was seducing you into the warm stream of water as quickly as he could possibly manage.

you laughed at his eagerness, aaron not finding anything about this situation funny. his pout more prominent than ever because he knew how long it took to get the paint out of his skin once it fully dried. he wanted- needed- you now.

once your hair was damp, and aaron's back was a stream of colors, you began lathering soap onto his skin, rubbing at his shoulders and scrubbing the paint away gently. your nails felt like a mixture of ice and fire in aaron's nerves, the sensation feeling incredibly intoxicating, like he would never be able to get enough.

you failed to notice the series of whines that left aaron's throat, your mind too focused on how the taut skin of his back felt underneath your fingertips. scrubbing and kneading out the knots that laid at his lower back, aaron let out a particularly loud moan, one that made your core clench.

traveling your eyes to where his head hung, his strong arms leaning his body weight against the tiles. his hair looked especially dark what with being doused in the warm water he was standing under. you leaned against his back, tits squished against his frame as you let your hands wander down to his hips and around to feel how hard he was, which was that of a rock. a mixture of pain and pleasure was voiced from aaron, your hand immediately drawing back. but when the man's hand found yours and guided it up and down his length, you felt at ease, knowing that you were, indeed, inflicting satisfaction on him.

groans and whimpers tumbled from aaron's mouth, your cheek rested on his now clean back as you stroked him languidly. "baby." his voice came out broken and needy, making you stop.

you weren't about to get him to finish in the shower when you hadn't even begun to have some fun with the situation he was in. with the headspace you sensed he had entered when you peered into his honey eyes that were now coated completely in lust.

drawing away from him completely, he scoffed, turning so that he could look at you with a disapproving glare. you simply shrugged at his action, taking your shampoo and lathering your hair up, your back turned to the man as you did. his gaze was burning into your skin as you washed your hair, you felt how his eyes traveled along your body and stopped at the curve of your ass before making their way back up to the top of your head, where your arms were elevated and working the soap efficiently into your hair.

when he led you under the flow of water, guiding you by your waist, you found yourself flush against his chest. you peered up at him, to which he smiled at whilst rinsing your hair free from any remnants of shampoo. the duration of your bath continued like that, soft touches and drunken smiles. aaron's hands tracing every one of your features and you placing your hands over his to feel how he identified you through touch.

this all lasted until you went to wash your body, foaming your favorite soap that drove aaron completely nuts between your hands and trailing it across your torso and arms. aaron, who was watching the whole scene unfold and listened to your soft hums as you perfected this act of madness, felt dizzy just staring at you with your back to him.

but when you leaned down in front of him to massage the soap into your legs, pushing your ass against his raging hard on in the process, that was the last straw for the man. his hands flew to squeeze your hips, pulling you back against him and grinding against your sopping pussy. though it was hard to tell with the amount of water and bubbles that trailed down your body.

"y/n." he grunted out. aaron's eyes fluttered shut once you began to push back into him. your hips ground against his leaking cock, a smirk plastered on your face as you glanced over your shoulder to watch the man's expression range from pleased to desperate.

swiveling your body so that you could gain more friction, aaron's cock slipped against your ass, slick with the foam that coated your skin. the grip that the man had on your hips was bruising and you knew that the evidence would be there tomorrow morning. breathy moans left aaron's mouth as he bucked up into you, pride swelling in your chest at his motion. seeing him rut his hard length against you like a bitch in heat.

standing upright, you caught the man's attention, his hips ceasing their thrusting upwards to give you his needy, but undivided, attention. in his eyes hung craving and compliance. you had him right where you wanted. "what's wrong baby?" your tone was soft yet sultry, and all around low enough to make aaron's knees buckle underneath him had you not reached out to hold his waist.

a whimper, something that seemed uncontrollable at this moment, left his lips. his forehead dropping down to meet yours as he panted heavily against your mouth, neither of you ever making physical contact with your areas of desire. "need you. please."

you clicked your tongue at him in a condescending manner, his wide eyes staring at you as you did so. his heart sank as if he had done something completely wrong to make you execute the gesture. cupping his face, you kissed him gently, every emotion conveyed between your lips. you needed him to know that he was not at fault, that all this was just for show and you would eventually give him what he wanted- needed.

"what do you need, sweetheart? tell me." your words mimicked aaron's when you were the one in his position, taking advantage of his submissive demeanor entirely. aaron admired the similarities between your words and his previous ones, taking pride and comfort in the fact that he taught you everything you need to know. so he played to your game, wanting to see where it would go, and before he could even register what came out of his mouth next, his voice was answering your question without his consultation.

"need to fill you up."

that certainly wasn't what you were expecting when you had asked him what he needed. however you weren't opposed to the fact.

your wide eyes spoke for themselves, however your smile told a different story to aaron. it read surprised, curiosity, and dare he say, yearning? you and him had spoken, joked more like, about having more kids in the future. meaningless talks of a big house and a porch swing where you could rock your children to sleep in the cool breeze of summer. visions of your kids running up and down the stairs of a two story home, chasing the dog that jack just happened to 'find' on his way home from school, of course.

as of right now, your life with aaron was simple. it was expectant and you couldn't help but want to take things to the next level with the man. feeling in your heart of hearts that he just may be the only person you could ever envision that kind of life with. "yeah?" was all you could muster up, still taken aback by his request.

aaron didn't seem phased, lust slightly clouding his mind as he let the effect of his words take charge. he simply nodded and smiled down at you, kissing you back feverishly when you leaned up to grant his wish of a peck on the lips, the deafening thought of a family swirling around in both of your minds. he hummed against you, wanting nothing more than to spend the rest of his life with you in a big, stupid suburban home, kids and dogs galore. it was cheesy and cliche as it gets, but it was what aaron needed with you, unable to bare the thought of it being with anyone else. or worse, you with someone else.

"yeah." was all you needed to smash your lips against his once more. aaron pulled your naked chests together, the water slipping between the two of you marvelously. you were now at the point of no return that aaron was at: need and want for something, anything.

with one more quick rinse to the both of your bodies, clear of all soapy residue, aaron led you out of the shower and wrapped you in a fluffy towel. you giggled as he shook his hair out, droplets landing everywhere around the two of you. meeting your eyes with a boyish grin adorning his lips, he looked lighter, younger.

after drying your hair quickly, you walk over to shut his bedroom door. you were kicking it shut when aaron spun you back around into his arms, picking you up by the backs of your legs, and carrying your laughing frame to the bed. tossing you onto it, he began his purposeful journey of crawling up your body, placing heavy kisses to any area he had access to.

you watched his dark and damp head make it's way up your legs, pausing at the apex of your thighs. his honey eyes met yours and instantly softened, swimming in love and adoration before awaiting your consent to continue as he always did.

with a small nod, aaron's tongue darted out to flick against your clit, earning a soft sigh from you the mattress swallowing you as you sunk into it in complete comfort. your wet hair spread out around you, tits perky and nipples hard. aaron swore he could just cum at mere the sight of you. the minimal friction against his throbbing length from the soft blanket doing nothing to help.

eventually, with more fervor, aaron's full tongue came out to play. laying against your slit and drinking in every drop of arousal you had to offer. your moans and heavy breathing was something aaron could get drunk off of, his tongue and fingers working together to bring you to the brink of heaven.

"that's it, aaron. y'such a good boy for me." your words made the man moan loudly against your core, coaxing another wave of pleasure to spill from your clenching hole. he slipped two thick fingers into your awaiting hole, driven by your words. by the thought of being a good boy.

he didn't know what it was about the phrase, but it made aaron want to do everything in his power to please you. to be good for you, to be yours. it was almost overwhelming how badly he needed it, basking in the glow of being obedient and completely at your will.

you saw how much your words had affected your boyfriend, smirking to yourself at how absolutely desperate he was appearing to be. his blown out pupils hidden behind hooded eyes would've shown you everything that you needed to know. submission coated in lust and desire within his honey irises.

"you gonna be my good boy?" though your question came out broken, it still earned an eager whine from the man beneath you, lapping at your soaking cunt. the vibrations from the noise of desperation from aaron echoed throughout your pussy, a moan being coaxed from you as well.

your hands traveled down to grip at his hair gently. the action driving him over the edge and into complete compliance. aaron's fingers worked to bring you over the edge, lips sucking harshly at your clit and swirling the button against his tongue as if it were the best candy he had ever tasted. and in his foggy mind, it truly was.

he could hear his heart beat and blood rushing in his ears. the sound of you climbing over the edge and the feel of your fingers tightening in his hair only added to that sensation. aaron could've sworn he saw stars and every constellation as you clenching his fingers as if they were trying to drag some sort of release from them as well.

when you had finally come down from the clouds, aaron working you through every moment of the aftermath, he smiled up at you. your hands outstretched to him, grabbing at him so that he could come up and shower you in kisses. you panted with the man, tasting yourself on his lips and whimpering at the thought. aaron, needier than ever, bucked against your sensitive pussy, a soft inhale of air earned from you.

"sorry." he apologized quickly, trying his hardest to refrain from thrusting against your glistening folds. you said nothing, simply smiling up at the man as you pushed the hair that fell into his eyes away from his face so that you were able to see into the windows of his soul. you saw life, love, and lust all wrapped up in a bubble that held you and him.

you took your thumb and wiped away some of your arousal that rested on his chin before popping the digit into the man's mouth. at your reciprocated action, he moaned around your smaller finger which he naturally assumed would be in between your own lips as it always ended up there. this was different. this was new, exciting, invigorating, and hot as hell.

"baby." aaron whined against your finger, spit now trailing down your hand at his salivation. you looked up at the man with tenderness and curiosity. how far could you take him? how much could he endure until he was crossing the line of anger and down right misery?

cupping his face, you peel back his bottom lip before taking it between your teeth and letting it snap back into place. "i know honey, i know" your words are soft and let aaron know that you have him. you have him in the palm of your hand and you're not gonna let go.

he whimpered when you pulled away, only to have his sudden sadness be replaced with gleefulness when you laid back against the pillows and pulled him down on top of you, the red head of his violently leaking cock meeting the top of your pussy. the contact of warmth made the two of you hiss in pleasure, aaron's eyes nearly rolling all the way back into his head.

"go on, my love. be a good boy f'me and mark me." aaron was jolted out of his haze at the phrase. mark me, you said and the man felt himself floating.

his eyes filled with lust and a surprising amount of dominance coursed through his veins. his arms pulled you flat against the mattress and he sheathed himself inside of you in one swift motion. the sudden stretch and encapsulation of your walls around aaron's cock made the two of you moan in unison, your hand flying up to cover his mouth in fear of waking the young boy down the hall. between shared giggles and kisses, the two of of you entered your state of pleasure once more after adjusting to each other's intimate space.

when aaron had started his shallow thrusts, you felt your back arch and a hum make it's way up your throat. aaron had leaned down to kiss at the curve of your neck when you had thrown your head back. lips sweeping over the marks trailing your warm flesh in varying colors of purple and red, ones he knew would be there along with the dark bruises he was leaving on your hips, coloring you in.

your arms had come up to wrap around his broad shoulders, your nails dragging up his back and creating red stripes in their wake. he groaned at the feeling of his hot skin being clawed at and exposed to the cold air of the room. the feeling, much like before in the shower, of fire and ice. he pressed a bruising kiss to your lips before adjusting your hips so that he could drill into you without remorse.

a yelp left your throat at the sudden change in position and vibe the room had fallen into, your legs bent up against your chest. you being in the submissive position now rather than the man who was pounding into you was something that never failed to make you moan, that feeling of ownership and possessiveness that came with every one of aaron's touches. whether they be innocent or not.

"gonna fill you up, sweetheart. get you nice and full with my cum, till it's spilling out of you." with each word, aaron's thrusts increased in speed and power. the bed shook underneath you, aaron holding your legs back to allow for your pussy to be on full display for him. and although along with that action he was holding himself up, the snap of his hips never faltered.

while his words made you moan, you had a rebuttal. one which you knew would send him flying over the edge, and back into his submissive state once more. it was just the something that you needed in order to cum after having seen it unleashed. "yes, want all of you. sign your masterpiece."

with the contents of tonight's activities, aaron was overcome with the whole of it all. the sight of you with his son and how perfect you fit into his life. how he couldn't imagine himself without you by his side, holding his hand and telling him that everything was going to be okay. being the mother of his kids and his best friend for life.

all the great artists signed their art so no one would steal it, jack claimed earlier. you were aaron's, and god-forbid if anyone tried to take you from him.

groaning at the thought of you swole with his baby, he buried his face into your neck. your hand coming up to pull at the hair that laid at the nape of his neck. aaron's dropping down to where you two connected and rubbed your clit fervently, needing to feel you clench around him as he emptied his load into you.

"fuck." was heard from the two of you as he finished inside of you, your velvet walls closing around aaron's cock and milking him for every drop of his cum. it was if your body knew before your mind what to do, what to expect. short pants escaped you both, coming down from your highs.

aaron's thrusts slowed, his own body feeling the need to push his cum as deep into you as he could. when you let out a soft whimper, he came to a complete stop, stilling inside of you as he blindly grabbed for a pillow from behind you. placing the fluffy material underneath your hips with his tongue poking out between his lips, you giggled at his concentration.

he met your eyes, beads of sweat having formed on his forehead, a smirk dancing on his lips. "what're you doin', baby?" you asked quietly while you played with the strands of hair that fell from the front of his head. ones that were often gelled back and didn't get a chance to come out and play.

aaron hummed, kissing your neck and smoothing his tongue over the red marks that he had previously made. "gotta make sure it takes." you let out a rather loud laugh, partially because of the tickling sensation his lips provided and partially from his words. with your exclamation, aaron looked back up with a wide grin, his hands still firmly lain over your hips so that you would lie still. convinced that this would work and you would wake up pregnant with his baby, even though that isn't how it works.

slowly, the man pulled out of you once he had softened, his eyes immediately darting down to watch the cum spill out of your abused hole. "go on, love. push for me, wanna see it fall out of you." you do as told, resulting in a small whine when he pushed it all back in you with his thumb. "oh god." he exclaimed lowly, drooling at the sight of you being filled with him.

he came back up to stick his thumb in between your lips, your tastebuds dancing at sensation of your combined arousal that dripped off of aaron's digit. withdrawing his hand from your face, aaron peppered your lips with grinning kisses. you basked in the glory of his love, his affection, and the post-sex haze that always came with it all. "now," another three kisses, "you hungry?" you smiled and nodded, kissing the man's cheek.

laughing to himself, he rose from the bed and entered the still steamy bathroom, returning with a warm cloth to wipe you both clean. "gotta take care of my girl. and my baby." chuckling at the thought, you placed your hands on aaron's strong biceps as he wiped the cum free from your sex.

"aaron, you just filled me up. it takes time." he didn't care. the mere idea of you carrying his child, even if it hadn't been confirmed yet, was just too satisfying. so he just shrugged, tossing the cloth into the pile of dirty clothes and slipped on a pair of boxers before wrapping his robe around his tall frame.

aaron covered you with the blanket and left you there with the pillow still under your hips. "stay. just relax." you voiced out a soft groan, one that was met with a pointed, but joking, glare from the man. you saw there was no arguing with your boyfriend, so you settled back into the bed, leaving him happy with how well you were listening.

"good girl. i'll be right back." in his departure, you couldn't help but grin at the thought of you being taken care of like this when you actually were pregnant with his kid. a goofy grin splaying across your face at the love that you were enveloped in from the man you adored to your heart's content.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #nsfw.sunshine

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jujutsubabe · 3 years

Text

Library

Synopsis: (This is set when Gojo and Getou were in highschool) You are all in the library trying to practice presentations but Gojo can’t stop being distracting.

(I mean,,, no ship tbh? Kinda platonic reader insert but u can take it as Gojo flirting)

Word count: 1.7k

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A library is supposed to be silent, filled with studying and well focused people. It’s a place meant for peace and quiet, so everyone there can get a good grasp on their subjects without any distractions.

The library is known for being the best place to work in, you are surrounded by peers and books and computers of all kind. The amount of resources is unlimited, mixing alone and social time all into one setting, a beautiful design.

However, if you mix a quiet respectable place with three idiots, you tend to get the opposite of what a library is supposed to be.

The library was filled with your quiet snorts and giggles as you sat in the back of the room, you putting your hand over your mouth did nothing to silence you as you shook.

Gojo bit down on his lip as he tried to contain his laugh as well, waiting for the right timing to say another dumb joke.

You felt the stares of a few of your peers, but couldn’t help from giggling in your corner. It was one of those rare moments where you felt air escape your lungs in a good way, the crunching of your sides was a ticklish feeling. It was so carefree and fun, a simple memory you would keep every time you entered a library.

You turned to Gojo at the same time as him, trying to put on a serious face but when you saw his struggling one you couldn’t help but crack a huge smile and fall back into your lap cackling. He turned away snickering to his side as well.

You had been here for what felt like hours, you trying to go over your presentation but barely getting through the first slide with how Gojo suddenly wanted to be a comedian. Not letting you catch a break each slide.

It didn’t help that you were already behind in your presentation, he just fed into your procrastination. Making this workload ease into other hours of your day, it seemed like the only thing you could do for the day was work on this presentation.

Getou rested his chin on his hand, “You egg him on when you do that.”

“I know!” You wheezed, “But its so—so hard, I can’t focus.”

Gojo leaned in to whisper something else but Getou tilted his head, “Satoru, you’re a distraction.”

He pulled back, fixing his sunglasses with a wide grin. The class clown couldn’t help but make light of such a boring atmosphere, what was he even supposed to do in here? (Study Gojo… study…)

Picking on you two was way more fun than doing his fifty-billion already missing assignments.

“What?” He looked over his glasses, “It’s not my fault I’m this funny.”

“No, he’s right!” You took deep breaths, pulling into your center, “He’s right, let me try again and don’t distract me!” You pointed with a warning intent.

He grinned at you, playing on his innocent expression, which didn’t come across as very genuine.

It was like he called for attention to himself just by entering a room. No one could ignore him. So imagine how much harder it would be to ignore him if this giant ray of sunshine was sitting right next to you, pestering you every second.

“So,” you skimmed over your notes, “for this presentation, I wanted to research how the possible extinction of polar bears is such a condenen— conquential—conquista-- conse-”

“Are you trying to say consequential?” Geto asked.

There was a slight moment of silence, maybe half a second before, like a burst of a bubble, Gojo snorted and turned his head to the side giggling away. It didn’t help that his laugh was so contagious. It was like a yawn, when one person did it everyone else did.

Geto looked away, covering the slight curl of his mouth. He tried his best to be the mature one in the group but sometimes Gojo broke down that expectation with something as simple as giggling like a child.

Him trying to not smile mixed with Gojo’s actual laugh made it so much harder to not give in yourself. These two really couldn’t stop goofing around, no matter the situation.

You forced a frown, “Guys, It’s not funny!”

Gojo made a look at Getou, and Getou let out the lightest huff of air before shaking his head. “You’re right. Continue.”

“Thank you,” you cleared your throat, getting your notes in order, “I think it’s important to note that a big factor that could lead to their extinction are greenhouse gas em… emm...emnio—”

You squinted at the page, pulling it closer, you ignored Gojo’s pestering smile beside you. If you even looked at him you knew this would be all bad, he had a way of pulling you from work and not letting you get back to it.

Getou tapped the paper, “What’s wrong?”

You slid the paper to him, “I don’t know how to say that.”

He pulled the paper to his face with a slight frown. He blinked a few times, trying to not let confusion seep onto his face. With a little bit of inspecting, he eventually slipped the paper across for Gojo to help.

Gojo blinked back at the paper, a smile curling onto his face, “Is this your handwriting…?”

Getou hid his face while Gojo’s smile widened into a grin, then a chuckle, then a full on laugh, the both of them snickering onto themselves. You rolled your eyes, as Gojo banged his hand on the table like he saw the funniest thing on the damn planet.

These two were rolling over themselves over your sleep filled handwriting! It wasn’t even that funny!

You scoffed as the two went into hysterics over your handwriting, trying to fight off the smile crawling it’s way onto your face. It took so much to not give in.

It was all fun and games until a few students started to share a few looks from across the room. A few glared your direction, some actually leaving the place for a quieter place to study. No one seemed to enjoy your table's joy the same way you all were.

The three of you were being a nuisance to the quiet work environment, contradicting the point of a library with your presence. But why was laughing in the library more fun than laughing in your room with each other?

Was it the concept of breaking the rules that tickled you? Or maybe it was the hysteria of working on something for too long without breaks, forcing you all into taking a different kind of break.

None of you noticed when a select few students got up to talk to the teachers about you three. Whispering to the side and pointing a teacher your direction.

Your head popped up when you heard the light tapping of heels and keychains coming your direction. A more than pissed off adult looking straight towards your table.

You shook Gojo and grabbed his arm, “Dude shut up! Shut up the teachers coming!”

Before you could grab yourselves together, the teacher already arrived by your table, tapping on the desk until she got your attention. “I’m going to need you all to quiet down or leave. You’re being a distraction.”

Gojo quirked a brow, opening his mouth, but you spoke up before he said something disrespectful.

“Sorry.” You nudged the guy next to you, “We’ll be more quiet.”

She pursed her lips as she did a once over of you all, definitely memorizing your faces. You lot were making this poor lady do more than needed on her shift. She probably couldn’t wait until you guys messed up again so she could kick you out for good.

“Thank you.” She did a last sharp look before she eventually turned, walking away to the front desk again. Full hawk eyes on your table.

You turned around to the group, trying to regain composure. It was so awkward having her stare and know that you had to be on your best behavior. Everyone sat silently, no one even moving.

Until Gojo leaned back in his seat, twisting his head to look at you. You tried your best to not look at him…you could literally feel his stare through your head. He was insufferable.

…However, you couldn’t help the curiosity and slowly turned your head to meet his eyes. Just one look and his face flooded into a winced grin, already trying to hold back laughter with a squeaking sound from him.

With that, your composure broke and you released a set of giggles while Getou covered his mouth. Just like that Gojo won, he ate this attention up, releasing his own dumb fit of laughter.

You guys really couldn’t go a minute in silence could you?

Getou smiled and stood from the table, “Were not getting anything done. Let’s get food.”

You nodded, you were surprised it took this long for someone to realize that. This was a highly anticipated break you put off for too long, not realizing just how much time was wasted goofing off until now.

“I want ice cream!” Gojo slung your bag over his shoulder.

You blinked between the two as they gathered their belongings, starting to disperse from the table. You were still getting yourself together, scrambling with your things as the tall pair strided to the exit. “Guys wait up!”

They very much did not wait up, if anything it seemed as though their pace got quicker. (Gojo even looked back before grinning that sinister smile of his and walking faster.)

When you darted out of the seat, you just so happened to glance back at the table.

It had a few balled up sheets of paper under it, (that Gojo made and threw at the both of you) the chair’s weren’t pushed in, and if you looked closely you could see a few doodles sprawled along it.

For some reason, the table setting that would definitely piss off that teacher, made you smile. It showed proof that you and your friends had been there, that a few teens were messing around and having fun before they left.

Which you did, you made a good memory today. Those small moments of laughing at dust with friends, warmth from being so happy, comfort from having a tight bond.

It was all you needed, and all you wanted to remember anyways.

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zombie-honeymoon · 2 years

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Did this for this months event from the Creative Lounge server. Thanks for putting this together!

Everything is under a read more for length since there's a lot of stuff here.

1 - Favorite Trope Alternate Universe- Modern Setting. I have 47 fics posted that use that tag. Modern AU’s are my absolute favorite to write.

2 - SO Much Research That would be Honeymoon at the Clown Motel. I’ve done so much research I spent the night there recently. It’s haunted, can confirm. Something locked me in the bathroom and was walking around the room at night. I’ve researched a lot of strange, morbid things for this one, too.

3 - Smallest Thing You Made Chapter 4 of my Naruto three sentence fics, coming in at just 52 words.

4 - Created During a Weird Rush of Energy Anything from before winter of 2020. But more specifically this fic: Hitchhiker from Hell. No idea how I managed to write the whole thing before posting it and actually finishing it in such a short time, (it was written in only like a few weeks) but I did! I wish my writing energy and inspiration would come back…

5 - Uncommon Fanwork I knit and made some things inspired (colorwise) by my favorite ships and characters. Here’s a link to the fingerless gloves, and socks I’ve made. The yarn I used for the socks reminded me of Hidan in a subtle way and I just finished the second sock over a year later… And here are a couple of moodboards I’ve made for Suna and Takigakure, and here is one I made for my Hitchhiker from Hell fic.

6 - Biggest Thing You Made So far it’s my Honeymoon at the Clown Motel fic, it’s the longest with 25,847 words and counting.

7 - No Beta, No Regrets Most of my fics are not beta read, though I’m not sure about the no regrets part.

8 - Successfully Wrestled into Submission Smoked Sugar. It was supposed to be just a one shot, then I was going to end it at chapter three but felt bad for Kakuzu and Hidan so I wrote a final chapter for it. That final chapter was written and rewritten several different times and all of them were very different. It wasn’t an easy chapter to write but it got done. Finally.

9 - Made my FBI Agent Nervous Have to go with Honeymoon at the Clown Motel once again for this one fjfdkd

10 - Was Supposed to be a One-Shot/Doodle Long Distance Love. It was just going to be a drabble but I decided I really needed to continue it.

11 - I Invented this Rare Pair So, I wouldn’t say I invented the pair, but I did make the ship tags on AO3 for them- HidaKisa, KakuHidaKisa, Jashin/Kakuzu (but Hidan is Jashin… so) and of course Hidan/12 Foot Skeleton (they are deeply in love you guys)

12 - One that Haunts My Dreams (finished of un) It’s pretty much all my posted wips. Host, I so wanted to finish this one… I probably never will. Intarsia, this one haunts me, too… I want to work on it but never seem have the inspiration to.

And lastly are Long Distance Love and Honeymoon at the Clown Motel. These two definitely haunt me, they should have and could have been finished by now, and are the most likely of all my wips to get finished (excluding the three sentence fics, which are just for fun and I feel no pressure or haunting from them which is very nice).

13 - Lastest-Minute Finish There’s more than one that came to mind and I find it amusing they both have Sasori in them and he hates being late. First one is Muse. This one sat in my google docs for a very, very long time and until I decided to finish it for an event. It was late for the prompt day but that’s ok.

The second one is Bold, or Incredibly Stupid. I wrote it for MultiSasori Month for the Mortician AU prompt but was pretty late getting it finished so I ended up using the Free Day prompt instead.

14 - AU/Crossover No One Asked For

I feel like no one asked for a fic where Hidan was de-aged to five years old and taken care of by Kisame and Itachi but I wrote it anyways. It was actually really fun to write. At least I made sure he was old enough to be out of diapers fsdlkjds.

#fanworks bingo #kakuhida #kisahida #kakuzu #hidan #sasori #itachi #akatsuki #akatsuki fanfiction

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artificialqueens · 5 years

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Free Falling, Chapter 7: Buffoonery, Riggory, and Straight-Up Tomfoolery (Branjie) - writworm42

A/N: Thank you holtzmanns for always being a champ and keeping this brain cell going, as well as being my beta ❤️

The holidays were always a big deal at Charles-Visage. There was Halloween, when the kids all dressed up in donated Halloween costumes and visited the lounges in the adult inpatient units in supervised groups to go ‘trick-or-treating.’ The winter holidays were always wonderful too, the holiday-themed rec shows and staff parties at every turn putting everyone in a great mood. Thanksgiving always brought fun crafts and the most scrumptious recipes in cooking group, and Mother’s and Father’s Day filled the unit with faux flowers that gave everything a little extra pop of colour.

But this year, the holiday that Vanessa was looking forward to the most was Valentine’s Day. As cliche as it was, Vanessa loved seeing the unit done up in red and pink crepe paper, loved how the volunteers would go from room to room dropping handmade “valentines” filled with encouraging messages and doodles of flowers and Cupids at each of the children’s bedsides. She loved how a big bowl of heart-shaped chocolates would appear at the nurse’s station, the supply quickly dwindling as A’Keria spent a suspicious amount time “documenting” with Ra’jah. She loved asking her kids if they had someone special for Valentine’s, loved watching them wrinkle their noses and squeal as she teased them. Most of all, though, she loved that this year, she actually had someone special for Valentine’s, even if that someone didn’t know it yet.

Although lately, Vanessa was starting to think that Brooke might.

Ever since the business meeting, they’d been starting to spend even more time together. Vanessa would bring Brooke coffees mid-day, check in with her and ask how she was doing, and Brooke would return the favour with a smile and a conversation about how Vanessa’s day had gone at the end of her shift. Brooke invited Vanessa to stay late while she worked, and they would spend the hours chatting while Brooke typed, barely losing concentration as she calculated figures while presenting a well-thought-out argument as to why Dirty Computer deserved the Grammy more thanSweetener. And all that time was paying off–slowly but surely, Brooke opened up to Vanessa more. Slowly but surely, she let Vanessa help, let her try stapling files and spread the word about the family focus groups that Brooke was holding. Slowly but surely, Brooke’s conversation about how Vanessa was doing became less business-like and less casual, and more like Brooke was actually trying to absorb and learn what occupational therapy was like, how it felt to be Vanessa doing it. Slowly but surely, Brooke was opening up a little more, dropping information and feelings bit by bit.

Brooke was from Toronto, and she missed her family dearly, a fact that she showed even more than she said in how she spoke about them with a soft fondness that most people didn’t know she had. She had grown up very religious, but didn’t like describing herself as Christian any more (when Vanessa asked why, an uncomfortable look passed over Brooke’s face, and Vanessa had enough sense not to press the issue). She described herself as a lover-not-a-fighter, but had a more fierce temper than she let on, a passionate fire that he came out in rants and raves exclusively for Vanessa’s ears behind closed doors. She loved cats and had two of her own, and thought that Vanessa should come over some time to meet them.

The invitation stuck in Vanessa’s mind as she walked into the unit on February 14th, finally coming around to the idea that maybe, just maybe, Brooke felt the same way as she did.

Vanessa was so caught up thinking about the ways she could work Brooke’s cats into a conversation, how she could wriggle her way into confirming that Brooke’s invitation was real and that it meant what she hoped it did, that she hardly noticed the commotion in the allied health office.

“Put it on her desk.”

“Where on her desk? I can’t just–”

“Bird, yes you can! Just put it–dude, don’t put it face down, she needs to be able to read it!”

“Whatever, can you just hurry? She’ll be here– Heyyyy, Vanessa!” Ariel perked up when she saw Vanessa standing in the doorway, arms folded and eyebrow raised.

“What are you two clowns doing at my desk?” Vanessa looked Yvie and Ariel over with suspicion, the two of them looking like a pair of deer in headlights as they looked from each other to Vanessa’s desk to a piece of flashy red construction paper in Yvie’s hands.

Flashy red construction paper?

“Is that a Valentine?” Vanessa’s suspicion melted into pleasant surprise at the fact that her friends would take the time to make something for her, put so much thought in it as to fuss over where to leave it for her to find.

“Oh, yeah!” Yvie nodded seriously, “Brooke made it. She had a meeting, so she wanted us to leave it on your desk. She said that she’ll see you at lunch!”

Vanessa’s own heart stopped as Yvie pushed the handcut red heart into her hands, brushing past her with Ariel following closely behind, muttering some excuse about an SLP-PT joint session. Never mind the fact that speech and physiotherapy joint sessions rarely occurred, that those two were clearly up to something–she was holding a Valentine, a handmade Valentine, from Brooke Lynn Hytes. She traced the jagged, wobbling edges of the card as she flipped it over and brought it closer to her face to read.

Roses are red, violets are blue, tonight if you’re free, can I go out with you?

Vanessa snorted. It was a cheesy attempt at flirtation if ever she saw one, but knowing Brooke, she had no trouble imagining the blonde sitting at her desk deciding to go with an ironic rhyme after fretting over what to say for a good fifteen minutes. It wasn’t important, anyway–what mattered was, Brooke had written it, she had given it to Vanessa, she had asked her out. Brooke had asked her out.

When her heart started beating again, it was soaring, pounding hard in Vanessa’s chest as she gave the Valentine a quick little kiss and put it down on her desk.

She was so busy thinking about what she would say to Brooke, what activity she would suggest, heck, what she would wear , that she hardly noticed the knock at the office door.

“Brooke!” Vanessa gave a little jump when she turned around, only to come face to face with the blushing, grinning woman. “You’re not in–”

“I couldn’t wait.” Brooke shook her head, her blush deepening. “I had to come see you to say–”

“Thank you.” Vanessa blurted out. Brooke looked a little surprised for a second, then nodded.

“So I guess you picked up on everything?” Brooke laughed nervously, and Vanessa nodded, laughing too.

“Were you serious, though? Like no jokes?”

“Of course!” Brooke protested, “And I really want to go out tonight.”

Vanessa felt like screaming. She felt like jumping up and down, like grabbing Brooke and kissing her right then and there.

Instead, she smiled.

“How about right after work? You can make an exception for once. I know a great place we can go for dinner.”

“Yeah!” Brooke nodded enthusiastically before realising how eagerly she had answered, covering her embarrassment in a cough and dropping her voice as she repeated, “Yeah. I’d like that.”

“I’d like that too.” Vanessa smiled warmly. “See you at five?”

Brooke nodded. “See you at five.”

–

Around the corner, Nina reached over and punched Silky in the arm.

“Told you it would work.”

Silky rolled her eyes, but said nothing as the other women started giggling and whispering among themselves, craning their necks and stumbling over each other as they fought to see the scene unfolding in front of them.

“What did you even write in their cards?” Mercedes asked. “I saw Vanessa’s, but I didn’t see Brooke’s.”

“Oh, that one was easy.” Nina laughed. She took on Vanessa’s characteristically raspy voice and recited, “ You make my heart pop an’ lock. Can I take you out tonight?”

It was all anybody could do not to start howling with laughter.

Then Brooke and Vanessa came out of the doorway of the allied health office and started walking down the hallway, their hands interlocked and eyes downcast shyly, and everyone scattered, squealing excitedly about what geniuses they were.

TAGS: brooke lynn hytes, vanessa vanjie mateo, branjie, free falling, lesbian AU, hospital AU

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #free falling #lesbian au #hospital au #writworm42

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kellbellsparkles · 5 years

Text

A New Leaf (Part 1)

(My first ever Bungo Stray Dogs Fanfiction. I’m writing and publishing in parts to keep me motivated and to take breaks as it takes me hours to write as much as you’re about to read)

One doesn't have to forgive someone who's horribly wronged them. However, what if the person in question was genuinely sorry for what they had done? Do they deserve to be scorned? Unloved? Have death wished upon them?

It was a quiet afternoon for the Armed Detective Agency. There were no cases that required their immediate attention. Atsushi Nakajima and Osamu Dazai were able to spend their lunch break in the Uzumaki Cafe without a care and could talk freely.

“This is really nice,” Atsushi said. “I think this is the first time where we don't have to talk excessively about work.”

“We can talk about how your 'responsible' friend is going to get a life insurance policy to cover his tabs.”

The smiley waitress appeared behind Dazai suddenly, equally startling the two patrons.

“Oh my goodness!” Dazai exclaimed. “Do you have a silent stealthy special ability we don't know about and can be an asset for the agency?”

“It can be deadly, too,” the waitress said with a pleasant passive aggressive tone. “In fact, I'd like to borrow your little book of death to give me some ideas.”

Dazai gasped theatrically.

“Does this mean that you'll do a double suicide with me??”

“In your dreams.”

“But they're only dreams!” Dazai seemingly wailed. “I wake back up to the harsh reality I'm lonely and still alive every grueling day!”

“Would you like your coffee black then?” the waitress beamed. “Like your soul?”

Atsushi's mouth hung open. He could hear a fiery switch go off in Dazai's enigma of a mind. Or so he thought.

“That sounds lovely,” Dazai said with his unchanging, goofy face.

“Th-The usual for me,” Atsushi uttered not wanting to trouble the waitress with making a separate trip.

“Coming right up,” the waitress sang. As she whistled away towards her colleague, Lucy, Atsushi stared at his partner and mentor with great curiosity. He admired him and looked to him for strength during his times of weakness. However, Dazai's finicky and unpredictable persona exuberated a thick, foggy atmosphere.

“So uh--”

“My day's been fantastic!” Dazai cheered, turning to him with the notorious twinkle in his eye. “How about yours?”

“A-Alright I guess,” Atsushi instinctively answered. “But--”

Dazai's facial expression flipped to one with exasperated worry.

“Is anything troubling the dear kitten?” he asked.

“Uh….” Atsushi shuffled in his seat, completely confused. “No?”

“Are you suuuuuure? That sounded like hesitatiiiiiion.”

“W-Well…. The thing is….” Atsushi took a deep breath to collect his thoughts and say them out loud. “How come you never pay your tabs, Dazai?”

“A very good question, Atsushi,” Dazai chirped, his face switching on to glee mode. “I am very financially savvy and choose to invest my money in more important matters.”

“But this cafe is in the same building as the agency,” Atsushi retorted. “And they're so good to us and we bring about good business to one another. Isn't that an important matter?”

“I don't recall them having any crab cakes available, do you?”

“No, but--”

“The sweet, fluffy delicacy is what's truly worthy of every yen in my wallet.” Dazai thrust his arms into the air. “Ah, my crabby patties! They almost make me want to reconsider the whole suicide thing!”

Atsushi lights up with a hopeful smile.

“Really?”

Dazai slams his hands on the table.

“ALMOST!!” he hollers sternly. He wags his finger at his young subordinate. “Your deduction skills still need some work, kitten.”

“I see,” Atsushi said, shrinking in his seat.

The waitress returns with their drinks and a slip of paper, grinning ear to ear.

“Here you are,” she said as she placed them on the table. Dazai gives a quick peek at the slip of paper: a doodle of a grumpy crab cake with the caption “Not paying makes me a bad crab cake”.

“Cute consolation,” he giggled. “But you're going to have to do better than that,”

“Read the back,” she instructed before trotting off to her work station. Dazai curiously flips it over: a message that reads, “Pay 536,630 yen or else see front of the note”.

“WHAT????” Atsushi hollered, his hairs standing on end. “YOU OWE THEM 536,630 YEN???”

“HMMMMMMMMM,” Dazai hummed humorously. “She sure drives a hard bargain.”

“YOU THINK??”

“Atsushiiiiiiiii,” Dazai sang. “You think you could split the bill with meee? You have enough savings in your name by now, riiight?”

“No!! I'm still recovering from when I took Kyoka out on that day trip!!”

“Pretty pleeeeeease? Be a good kittyyyyy.”

“You've been with the agency longer than I have! How you could possibly be in this kind of situation makes absolutely no—”

He stopped when he saw a school girl approach the counter where Lucy was stationed. She had shoulder length black hair, wore a pink headband, black school top with orange lining, a pink collar bow and school skirt, and had very bright green eyes. Everything around him faded into a muffled silence.

“Absolutely no what, Atsushi?” Dazai said. He waved his hand over his still face. “Atsushiiii?”

His eyes burned with an angry focus and his pupils retracted, the tiger within him badly wanting to emerge and strike. He was taken back to his days in the orphanage. He was grabbed and pinned down by a couple of residents while a sizable audience looked on with those sneers and laughs that haunted him day and night. A little girl approached him with a pair of scissors. She grinned maliciously and struck fear into his soul with those bright, distinctive green eyes. Midori Hatarashi was her name. She told him she wanted to be a hair stylist when she grew up and she'd be his first patient. That wasn't her only crime; she was a leading antagonist who bragged to him every day that no one would ever want or love him.

“You!” present Atsushi snarled.

Midori turned around in a fright. Her eyes widened as she immediately recognized him.

“Is that you, Atsushi?” she asked with a soft tone.

Atsushi rose from his seat suddenly.

“Why are you here?” He snapped. Dazai pulled back a little in surprise at his sudden ferocity.

“I was just wanted to try Uzumaki's coffee,” she said shakily. “I've never been here before.”

“Liar!” Atsushi hollered. “I'm not about to let you walk in here and fool everyone!”

Midori backed into the counter like a fearful mouse with nowhere to run.

“I--” she stammered. “I know I wasn't kind to you before….” She hung her head. “No, I was terrible…. Inhuman even…. I promised myself if there was a slim chance I'd ever see you again…. I'd say I'm sorry for everything. Truly.”

Atsushi said nothing and stood still for a moment. Then, he walked up to her, never taking her eyes off her. He towered over her mere inches away.

“Do you really think anything you say or do will make me forgive you?” he said scornfully.

“No!” Midori said fearfully as she desperately attempted to back further into the counter, but her back was already flat against it. “Of course I don't…. How could you, right?”

“If you know that, then why are you even here?”

Tears formed in Midori's eyes; she had no words.

“Do you have any idea what I've went through and how badly I suffered because of you?” Atsushi growled, steadily raising his voice. “How it affects me to this very day? I'd be delighted if you left right now and I never saw you again. Yeah! You can leave my town and drop dead in a ditch somewhere!”

For a moment, Midori couldn't breathe. She had expected to be met with anger, but her heart couldn't brace itself against the beastly hatred he was emitting. She looked away and pushed past him, tearfully running out into the busy streets. When he was sure he could no longer see her, Atsushi relaxed his shoulders and took a deep breath.

“Atsushi….”

Lucy was staring sternly at him; as the barista tending to the cash register, she witnessed and heard everything loud and clear.

“Oh,” Atsushi said sheepishly. “Sorry about that. I'm alright now. Finally….”

“What was that?”

“Just an old adversary that's been goading me for years.”

“No, I mean…. What was that?” Lucy's words were coated with disappointment.

“What are you talking about?” Atsushi said with a stumped and confused expression. “You weren't there.”

“I was here, Atsushi,” Lucy said. “And that girl. You said it was years ago. She had the courage to apologize to your face.”

“You don't know her,” Atsushi said defensively. “And I don't have to forgive her. Right, Dazai?”

Dazai sipped his drink calmly with his eyes closed. He set it down gently and stood up.

“I think I'm ready to head back to work,” he said quietly. He stood up and began to make his way to the stairs leading to the agency office, walking right past Atsushi.

“Dazai!” Atsushi called out. “Wait!”

The clown of the agency didn't stop, though. Atsushi gave chase.

“You understand, don't you?” he pleaded. “She deserved it!”

Dazai came to a halt. He opened his eyes finally and looked Atsushi directly in the eye. His goofy facade had vanished. In its place was a steel, stone cold expression that sent chills down Atsushi's spine.

“What exactly did you say to her?” he asked with a low, serious tone.

“D-Dazai?”

“Tell me what you said to her.”

Atsushi yelped. He couldn't tell whether or not he was being scolded by the man who ever rarely did such a thing.

“I told her exactly how I felt,” he said. “It's what I've always wanted to say to her…. And everyone else.”

“Including the bit after that?”

“What bit?”

Dazai sighed heavily, bowing his head.

“Do I really need to spell it out for you, detective?”

Atsushi crossed his arms and pondered, squinting his eyes shut as he thought really hard. What could he have said that was such a big deal all of a sudden? His face softened as he came to a conclusion.

“The part about the ditch? …..”

However, as he opened his eyes, Dazai had already gone up the flight of stairs. Behind him, a little boy was sniveling and sobbing. His mother was covering his ears and holding him tight. Lucy, the waitress, and the owner of the cafe were staring with disheartened eyes. Through the windows, some passerbys had caught wind of the commotion and were peering inside to see what was going on. The weretiger had been on the brink of death, seen crime scenes, watched people fight with their special abilities, been shot at, and had seen people get hurt and die. Although, none of that carried the throbbing, anchoring weight to pull him under like the moment eyes laid on him and saw him as a monster.

#bsd #atsushi #dazai #dazatsu

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mikeshanlon · 6 years

Text

he’s all that: chapter one

fandom: it

pairing: reddie (richie tozier/eddie kaspbrak)

word count: 3.8k

on ao3

summary:

Richie smiled smugly, “You’ve got spunk Kaspbrak. I like that.”

“Why don’t you try shutting the fuck up Tozier,” Eddie retorted as the line moved forward, “So what is this, if not some ploy to get me to tutor you? Some sort of dork outreach program? Because I’m not interested.”

---

Or: The one where Richie Tozier has six weeks to get into a relationship and make someone fall for him. Only problem? That someone is the anxiety ridden, goody two shoes Eddie Kaspbrak, and he can't even stand to be in the same room as Richie.

warnings: there is drug use in that bev/mike/richie are HUGE stoners.

a/n: hello!!! hope you enjoy this fic, i will try to update it at least every other sunday (i'll figure out the exact number of chapters before i post chapter two, but it probably won't be more than 10). you don't need to have watched she's all that to get this, although there will be some small easter eggs/quotes from the movie. but the movie has not aged well and is very Heteronormative so like.... no need to watch it lmao.

Senior year— it was what just about any kid in the public schooling system looked forward to. You were high school royalty, enjoying the last hurrah with booze and dancing before being sent off to make your mark on the world. Lanky limbs that weren’t yet grown into became muscled and toned, hips were wider and swayed. Brains were wiser, skin was touched more, and smiles were brighter. It was a time of transformation and change.

Except, senior year was almost over, and Richie Tozier felt like he hadn’t really changed at all. Sure, in the last four years he shot up to 6’2, his voice was deeper, and he wasn’t such a fucking outcast; but really nothing else felt different. He still only passed his classes on genius alone, had a problem respecting authority figures (partially due to the fact that his parents were still pieces of shit), and never knew when to shut the fuck up.

Derry, Maine itself stayed the same too, like a town in a snow globe encased with mom-and-pop businesses and ignorance. Other than iPhones, the small Starbucks on the corner of Main and Belmont, and the fact that the townspeople were slightly less homophobic and racist (slightly being the operative word); Derry was pretty much a time capsule for banana bikes, bullies, and double features with popcorn that had too much salt and not enough butter.

Take the cliques and social hierarchy-- a staple in any American high school, especially one in a small town. Despite it being the 21st century, the cafeteria still had tables for jocks, geeks, nerds, and preps, straight from some 80’s or 90’s teen flick.

Richie, like most things in his life, didn’t necessarily fit into one group or the other, toeing the line between social pariah and popular party dude. He supposed it was the side effects of being the class clown with too-big-for-his-face glasses, a diagnosis for ADHD, and his tendency blazing at any given moment. Funny and wild enough to show up to any party, but not exactly cool enough to hang out with for anything else.

Honestly, it didn’t matter either way, because instead of worrying about what table to eat the cafeteria’s barely edible food at, Richie usually spent his lunch smoking with his friends. It was time to catch up and unwind before the last few classes of the day— and there was no way he could get through chemistry without being high.

As soon as the shrill bell rang, Richie hopped out of his seat, grabbing his shit before placing his (probably failed) history quiz on the teacher’s desk on his way out into the halls.

He weaved through the couples sucking face and the worried AP students, his unruly black curls bouncing like a hyperactive halo around his head as he walked towards his locker.

“‘Sup Tozier!” someone called out to him, a familiar face at the weekend ragers, although he never learned his actual name.

Richie nodded, “Hey, what’s up Keg King?”

“Not much. Hey, you coming to see me defend my title this weekend?”

“Wouldn't miss it for the world,” Richie smiled lazily, patting the other boy on the back before strolling along.

It wasn’t a coincidence that his smile faltered as he passed what was left of the Bower’s gang. He and Hockstetter had graduated the year prior, although like most bumfuck racists hellbent on beating up ‘dorks and queers’, they stayed in Derry. The remaining two, Belch and Victor Criss, weren’t nearly as powerful or psychotic as their elders, but they had a reputation to uphold. They weren’t exactly slamming him down on the asphalt in front of the arcade like they did in middle school, but they weren’t friendly either. Mutual respect was even a stretch. He’d enjoy seeing them get their asses handed to them, and he was sure they felt the same.

Richie popped open his locker, catching the loose papers and pencils that inevitably fell out. A small mirror hung on the blue metal door, rendered practically useless because of all the smudges covering it. The remaining space was littered with stickers of indie bands, and post-its with doodles and notes to himself or from his friends.

Have a great day trashmouth <3- bevs

Sparknotes ‘Pygmalion’

Come to the quarry after school!-mike

It’s a good day to be gay

Next time u get drunk enough 2 facetime us reading the entire bee movie script pls invite us so we dont have 2 deal w/ that sober- b+m

Buy more cigs and weed

U lewk hott big sexxxi ;) - xoxo

Richie was unashamed to say he wrote the last one to himself one day when he looked particularly good.

He struggled to stuff his history folder into the looming mess, but eventually crammed it in there, slamming the door shut before anything else could fall out.

After checking that he did indeed have his lighter, bag of weed, and papers in his denim jacket, Richie made his way to their usual spot. They liked to smoke at the stairs behind the art room, which was tucked away in the back of the school, overlooking the field that separated them and the middle schoolers.

Throwing open the orange door to the stairs in his usual dramatic fashion, he found his two closest friends, “Ms. Marsh, Lord Michael, how fare thee chaps today?” Richie greeted in his (awful) british accent.

Beverly Marsh rolled her eyes as she lit her joint, “Fine, until I heard that horrible voice.”

Richie threw a hand on his chest, a pained expression painted on his face, “Oh, how you hurt me so.”

“Hey, I mean it is his best impression,” Mike Hanlon commented from the steps, fist bumping Richie as he sat down across from Beverly on the top of the stairs, back to the railing. The sweet boy lit up the bowl in his pipe, inhaling deeply.

“Aw, thank you Mikey, you sure know how to make a girl swoon,” he cooed, mimicking a southern belle.

“Well, you don’t really have any good one’s in the first place,” Mike smirked, blowing out the smoke in his mouth while Beverly snorted, taking another drag.

Richie rolled his eyes, taking out his bag of weed, “Fuck off Hanlon.”

Mike extended an olive branch in the form of paper lunch bag filled with a sandwich, chips, and a can of coke. It was a daily occurrence for them— the Tozier’s rarely had any food, and even if Richie wanted to eat from the cafeteria, he didn’t exactly get a lot of money from them.

“My upcoming munchies thank you dear friend.”

He opened his bag of weed, attempting to balance the paper on his knees so he could roll his own joint. This failed miserably as the weed fell out, getting all over his Radiohead t-shirt.

“Shit.”

Beverly sighed, holding out her hand, “Let me roll it Tozier, you and I both know I’m better at it anyways.”

“What?! I’m perfectly capable of doing it by myself. I roll a damn good joint Marsh,” he shot back incredulously.

She plucked a stray piece of weed and gave him a pointed look. Richie groaned before handing his stuff over, Beverly handing him her own joint to smoke on in the meantime.

“How’s your day been Rich?” Mike asked from his spot on the steps. Typical farm boy, concerned with his friends. Richie often wondered how such an angelic person hung out with him and Bev, but Mike had his fair share of rebellious traits.

“Ah, well, you can tell it’s been just dandy. I can’t wait till we get out of this fucking hell hole,” Richie scoffed before taking a hit.

“Only seven more weeks,” Beverly reminded, eyes and hands focused on rolling.

Mike nodded, “Crazy. Can’t believe we’re finally graduating.”

“Thank fucking god, Derry is a suffocating shithole,” he said, “I know I’m an idiot, but Jesus, everyone here is a fucking bigot.”

“Yeah,” Mike agreed, not saying much else. They understood. It was hard being one of the only black kids in school, let alone pansexual (although most people didn’t know this about him). The prejudice he faced wasn’t something he often spoke about, trying to be as positive as possible.

“This kid in english was saying bisexuals are sluts today,” Richie successfully blew a few smoke rings, “Like, I am one, but not because of my sexuality, asswipe.”

Bev laughed humorlessly, handing Richie the freshly rolled joint and taking back her own, “No need to tell me what that’s like.”

No, the redhead had been getting called a slut over nothing since the seventh grade; the rumors and shaming only getting worse when she too came out as bi.

A comfortable and reflective silence fell over the three, occupied with their thoughts and getting high. Richie placed the joint in between his chapped lips; struggling to light the tip as his white lighter sputtered, on it’s last moments of life. Mumbled expletives fell out of his mouth before he was successful, inhaling deeply and holding the smoke in before letting it all escape.

His dark brown eyes scanned the poorly maintained sports field, filled mostly with middle schoolers running around and yelling. Part of him envied the carefree nature of it all, but the other remembered how fucking shitty middle school was and any jealousy washed away.

Not too far from them was what was dubbed as ‘the kissing tree’. The old trunk was littered with carvings, initials surrounded by hearts claiming that their love was ‘forever’. It was juvenile, small town as fuck, and heteronormative— though most things surrounding romance in Derry were.

Of course, Richie had been obsessed with it as a preteen, and knew his own name was on there (a few times).

What caught his eye now were the couple under it, making out passionately, flush against one another, like if they stopped they’d die.

Honestly, that would be preferable, as one of them was Gretta Keene, one of Richie’s biggest mistakes.

Gretta was one of the most popular girls in school, and she was also a grade A bitch. Her green eyes sent glares akin to daggers, and her lipgloss covered lips provided insults that went too far. Including frequently calling Beverly a slut.

It wasn’t like Richie had a huge crush on her or anything. Their relationship was merely born from constantly being at the same parties, cross faded and wanting a quick hook up to distract themselves. Mike had commented that it was only a matter of time, except one became many more, despite the fact that Gretta only got with jocks.

Their arrangement caused Bev to freeze Richie out for two months last semester, breaking their four year streak for best couples costume at Betty Ripsom’s annual Halloween Party. Bev was more important to him by a long shot, but per usual, he kept fucking everything up.

Most of their ‘moments’ were shared in some stranger's bed, or dancing in a kitschy living room to pop music, sharing a blunt or swigs from a bottle of whiskey. None of it was on purpose, but rather a byproduct of being intoxicated and having a high sex drive.

In fact, they had only been on two actual dates when they were together. The first was at the drive-in a town over, the pair sat in Richie’s beat up station wagon, some shitty b-movie playing on the large projector. Gretta shared a pack of cigarettes with him, and it was probably the only kind thing she had ever done. Richie tried to make conversation, so that their relationship actually had some sort of substance other than weed and alcohol; but Gretta quickly shut him up, sticking her cherry coke flavored tongue down his throat.

He took her out to his favorite diner for their other date, figuring that they might have a chance to actually get to know one another without an acceptable place to make out. They sat on opposite sides of a booth outlooking Main street, an old-timey song playing on the jukebox.

This plan proved to be a grave mistake, because Richie finally understood why Bev often said, “Satan himself thinks Gretta Keene is too cruel.”

He repressed the memory, if he remembered it he’d get too pissed off. Instead, Richie thought of their break-up, how she had beat him to the punch.

He had been waiting at her locker, leaning against #405 and picking at his nails, humming a song by The Smiths under his breath. Gretta approached, clad in a pink mini-skirt and a tight crop top, smacking her half-priced bubblegum.

Richie cleared his throat, standing upright, ready to chew her the fuck out for being such a horrible person, “Gretta, let’s talk—“

“We’re through Tozier.”

“What the fuck?!” He had gaped at her, “No, I was going to breakup with you!”

Gretta shooed him away with her manicured hands, “Please, you’re a fucking nobody. Irrelevant. You should be glad we even fucked around this long.”

A small crowd had formed around the two, “You’re the one who kept coming back for more.”

“And you’re the one who actually thought this could be something. So cute. But I don’t date losers and I don’t date attention-whores like you.”

Like he said, grade A bitch.

“Jealous?” Mike snapped Richie from his thoughts.

His cheeks reddened, embarrassed that he was caught staring, “What? No. I pity the poor bastard that’s with her. Fucking breath smells like a fucking dog ate a pack of Winston’s. Straight up ass.”

Beverly chuckled, but her eyes held a little bit of resentment, “You used to smoke those Winston’s with her.”

“I thought we had an agreement that we would never speak of the Great Gretta Keene Mistake again?”

“Sure, but you’re the one watching her,” Mike pointed out, packing a new bowl, “Missing the one that got away?”

The other boy’s tone was joking but Richie sent him a glare, “She’s fucking irrelevant to me okay?”

They hummed in agreement, but he could see the slight doubt on their faces.

Richie ripped open his bag of chips and threw one in his mouth, “She thinks she’s such hot fucking shit, but she’s so replaceable.”

“Richie, it’s rude to speak with your mouth full,” Mike admonished his bad manners.

“That’s not what your ol’ pops said last night when I was suck-“

“Beep beep, Richie,” Mike warned.

Bev shook her head, “Really Rich? His grandpa?”

“When opportunity strikes,” he flashed a shit eating grin before taking another hit.

“Anyways, while I second the sentiment that Gretta isn’t all that, you haven’t exactly had a relationship since her,” Bev accused.

“Okay, what the fuck is this, ‘pick on Richie day’?” he said, readjusting his position, “Besides, I’ve been with plenty of other people.”

“Please, this isn’t middle school, and I’m still not buying the whole ‘my bedpost is covered in notches’ bit,” Bev inspected the joint between her fingers, now just a stub.

“Well, obviously it’s not. I’ve had sex in many different beds. Yours included,” Richie smirked.

“Beep beep. You know you aren’t allowed over after you almost burned down my aunt’s apartment.”

“The apartment was fine. Everyone knows if you put the temperature up super high food cooks faster. Those tater-tots would’ve been delicious. Bon-appetit,” Richie spoke in a poor french accent, and his eyes widened, “Bon-appetot. Bon-appetatertot.”

He fell into a fit of giggles and Mike chuckled across from him.

“You are a walking disaster Richie Tozier,” Bev said, though an amused smile sat on her lips.

“Richie’s poor life choices aside… One night stands and drunken make out sessions don’t count,” Mike returned to their previous topic, “I mean something sort of serious. Something you put effort into.”

“I don’t put effort into anything Michael dear,” Richie countered.

“Not true. You put effort into a lot of dumb shit,” Bev put out her joint, “Like when you tried to climb the water tower at 3 am naked. Or the time you tried to get the principal to grind with you at homecoming.”

“You can’t blame me for that. Mrs. Marton is a vixen. Can’t believe she resisted my charms.”

Mike laughed, shaking his head, “Point is, it kinda seems like you’re stuck in a rut.”

“I get plenty of action,” Richie boasted, taking a drag from his joint, “Plus, I could make any girl or guy in this piece of shit school fall in love with me.”

“That a bet?” Bev grinned mischievously.

“You know what, why the fuck not?” Richie shrugged. He was bored, and he wanted his friends off his fucking back, “Terms and conditions?”

“Mike and I get to choose the sorry fuck who you’ll be pursuing—“

“No, I don’t wanna be a part of this. Isn’t it kinda fucked up? Getting with someone for a bet? Why don’t you just try to date someone without an ulterior motive?” Mike suggested.

Richie rolled his eyes, adopting an Australian accent, “Now where’s the fun in that mate?”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“You get till prom to sweep this person off their feet. A committed relationship, not just a hookup. If you win I’ll get you a shit ton of the finest weed the county can offer,” Bev continued, “If you lose—“

“No need to tell me, because I won’t fail,” Richie smirked, “I’m a total knockout.”

Bev’s face mirrored his own, “Fine, it’s your funeral.”

Both of them spit into their palms before shaking their hands, bonding the bet.

“C’mon, let’s go find them— you only have six weeks.”

The three of them packed up their shit, passing around the rest of Richie’s joint so it wouldn’t go to waste before they headed inside. Bev spritzed some perfume on them in an attempt to mask the smell of weed, making Richie smell fruity and floral. He popped a stick of spearmint gum in his mouth, deciding to save his sandwich for AP Calc next block.

It was a rare occurrence for them to roam the halls before the lunch bell rang, so a few of the students stared at them as they went on their search. Mike smiled at just about everyone they passed, a fucking angel per usual.

“What about him, he’s kinda cute,” Bev suggested, nodding her head to a blonde boy holding a skateboard.

Richie shook his head, “We made out at that beach bonfire over the summer. He almost vommed in my fucking mouth. The money maker! These beautiful lips are fuckin sacred— how could I smooch and tell amazing jokes if he fucked em up? These babies ooze charisma and sex appeal.”

“More like ooze bullshit,” Mike quipped.

“I think you’re just jealous that you won’t be the one I’m wooing Mike n Ike.”

Bev snorted, “I pity the poor fuck who you’ll be annoying till prom,” her eyes lit up, and she turned to Mike, “Hey, we might be able to enjoy some peace and quiet for a while!”

“The minute we became best friends with Richie I gave up all hope for tranquility.”

“Hey!” He protested, although Mike was right.

“And I wouldn’t have it any other way,” the other boy finished sweetly.

Richie planted a sloppy kiss on his cheek, “Oh Mikey, you are the most wholesome-est boy I ever did meet,” he slipped into his southern belle persona, “What about you Bevvy darlin’, got any words to butter up my biscuit? To milk my udder?”

She rolled her eyes and continued walking ahead of them, turning into another hallway.

“Fine, I know you love me Marsh,” Richie used his long lanky legs to his advantage, catching up to stroll alongside her quickly, “What about Betty Ripsom?”

Bev scoffed, “Please, too easy.”

“What?! She’s like, a good ol’ Christian girl. I’m a deviant! My skype username used to be tozier666! Or wait, it was tozier42069… I can’t remember.”

“C’mon Richie, we all know she had a massive crush on you freshman year,” Bev replied.

Mike nodded in agreement, “You wouldn’t shut up about it.”

“Like most things,” Bev said, “Anyways, you’d just use that to your advantage. Although, I am liking the whole ‘polar opposite’ approach.”

Richie groaned, of course he had a hand in his own misfortune.

They continued to travel the halls, Beverly’s baby blue eyes scouring for a victim.

“You sure are digging your own grave today Rich,” Mike commented.

Richie nodded, “R.I.P. Richard Tozier. Big Mouth and even Bigger Wan—“

“Found ‘em,” Bev interrupted, a grin on her face.

She pointed down the hallway in front of them, where two boys conversated as everyone walked around them. The taller one had auburn hair, and was lanky like Richie, although the other boy seemed a little more muscular. The other looked like a fucking middle schooler, and Richie wasn’t sure how the little brat even got in there.

It took a minute, but Richie realized that he did actually recognize them. They didn’t interact much, not being in the same circles, but the two boys had been going to school with him since the days of recess. And they had been bullied since then too.

So, correction, she pointed to where two of the biggest losers in school were talking about what was presumably some nerdy shit. Great.

“What, Big Bill?” Richie raised an eyebrow, “He’s not too bad. Ignore the stutter and the fact that he’s best friends with total dorks and you have a shy lil cutie. Nice handiwork Marsh.”

“You know, you’re a total dork and we’re still friends with you,” Mike quipped, his own way of chastising Richie.

Bev shook her head ‘no’, “Not Denbrough, the other one.”

Richie’s eyes settled on the smaller boy, and the realization that he was totally and utterly fucked set in.

Eddie Kaspbrak. The kid peaked at 5’6, and his lack of muscles along with the fact that he wore an honest to fucking god fanny pack didn’t help his 12 year old boy appearance. Of course, the fanny pack got worse— it was full of pills, eye drops, hand sanitizer, lotion, chapstick, and most importantly, his inhaler. Yes, Eddie was a fucking asthmatic hypochondriac and germaphobe, with an equally insane mother. Richie didn’t doubt that the asshole spent more time perusing WebMD than texting or checking social media.

He wore chunky turtlenecks in the winter, and in the hotter months, his tanned legs adorned tube socks and short-shorts (they were awful, although Richie had to admit they made his ass look great). His small hands gripped onto his stuffed backpack (kid already had a fanny pack full of shit, what else did he have to bring to school?). Eddie’s brown hair was always found in a overly gelled comb over, not a hair out of place. He reminded Richie of an off-brand Fred Savage with severe anxiety.

Mostly, Richie knew Eddie Kaspbrak would hate just about every little thing he did. There was no way they’d even be friends, let alone anything more.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me Bev.”

a/n: thanks for reading!!! richie and eddie will actually talk next chapter, don't worry. also for any concerned about the gretta/richie thing it's not Too Big of a Deal as it is in the movie, i just need it for some plot points (but overall richie is like 100% over gretta and it was just something stupid he did).

#reddie #richie x eddie #it fic #reddie fic #he's all that #my fic #yeah idk what to tag this as go read it on ao3 wlnglerngerlgknrglkerng

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