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harringtown · 2 years

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wrap me up in all your—

still not over that obscure friends to lovers prompt list so I did number 30 w Eddie!!!!

pairing: eddie munson x reader

summary: everyone forgets Eddie’s birthday except the reader (aka a cupcake, a joint, a gift, and a confession or two)

word count: 1.5k

warnings: cursing and weed/smoking mention

The trailer park is quiet. The autumn chill has settled over town like a blanket, unearthing winter jackets and beanies from closets and marking every breath with a plume of white air.

Eddie sits beside you on his front porch, and though the light swinging overhead flickers every few seconds, and the wooden stairs are halfway to rotted, it’s his favorite place in the world.

Anywhere that has you in it is his favorite place in the world.

He’d like to blame that sappy sentiment on the joint you surprised him with an hour ago and have been passing back and forth, but if he’s honest, Eddie feels that way sober.

You make him feel and think all that sappy shit he was sure only existed in movies.

You showed up, with a dorky birthday hat and a joint sticking out of a cupcake, and Eddie instantly felt high. And so, even though his day started at crappy and only got worse from there, it’s looking to have a decent ending.

As far as birthdays go, this certainly isn’t the worst. It’s almost better that everyone forgot. No last-minute, hasty gifts or the off-key singing of some waitress and his uncle.

It doesn’t even matter that everyone else forgot. Because you didn’t.

“I got you a present,” you say eventually, jabbing out the last burning embers of the roach and tossing the filter into the tiny pile at the bottom of the steps. Other filters from other nights smoking on this porch, the best of them with you.

“I thought we just smoked the present,” Eddie says.

You snort a laugh and bump Eddie’s shoulder with your own.

“No, that was the candle,” you say. “It would have been better if you rolled it. You’ve got magic hands.” You lift your arms and do jazz hands, making Eddie laugh, and then cough, which makes you laugh, too. Then you’re just two high idiots giggling on a crumbling porch, but Eddie is happier than he has been in a long time.

“Not everyone has the magic touch,” Eddie says. He raises his own hands, and doesn’t miss the way your gaze falls and lingers on each finger, each ring and crooked knuckle and calloused fingertip. Eddie drops his hands. “So. What’s this present you speak of? It better be damn good, after all you’ve hyped it up.”

“I did no hyping,” you accuse. You tear your gaze from Eddie’s and drop it to your lap, where you’re worrying the hem of your hoodie between your fingers. “And it probably isn’t that good—”

Eddie blames the weed on his sudden confidence. He takes your chin in one hand, forcing you to look at him, and he doesn’t realize how close you are on the porch until he almost smashes your nose with his own.

“Whatever it is, sweetheart,” he says, gentler than he intends, “I’m sure I’ll love it.” Your eyes dip, dip to his mouth, and now Eddie is looking at your lips, and he can’t stop.

He clears his throat and sits back. “You’ve never gone wrong before. Christmas ‘82?” He shrugs his shoulders and flashes you a lopsided grin. “Alright, yeah, you kind of screwed future you, there. How the hell do you follow thatup?”

You roll your eyes, but Eddie can tell you’re pleased. He’s known you so long that nonactions are actions, too.

“You and that damn guitar,” you say.

“What can I say? You did good, kid,” Eddie says. He bumps your shoulder again. “C’mon. Quit stalling. Let’s see it.”

You scrunch your nose. “Technically, there’s not really anything to see. I mean, I have a piece of paper, like a written agreement, but—”

“Earth to y/n,” Eddie says in a singsongy voice, though honestly, he’d be content to watch you talk about nothing for hours.

You nod a few times. Clear your throat. Don’t look at him as you say, “I kind of… booked you a gig.”

And Eddie’s dry mouth becomes the Sahara desert.

“You—what?”

“And I don’t know if I’d really call it a gig. More of an… audition? That fancy new club, The Tunnel, is looking for a local band to play Friday nights, and they want something different, so I played them one of your tapes. The manager liked it. He said if you do well at the show in a few weeks, you could be in there every friday night—”

“Are you serious?” Eddie asks.

You stop. Meet his eyes. “Of course I’m serious.”

“Holy shit.” Eddie pushes off the porch steps, onto the dirt below, and shakes his head. “Holy shit.” He wraps his arms around his torso and turns to you, shaking his head again. “Are you serious?”

You laugh, and say, “For the second time, yeah, I’m serious.” You swipe at your nose and sniffle. “Not that your usual joint isn’t great, but I figured, maybe you and the guys wanted to change it up a bit¸—”

And Eddie can’t hold back anymore. He rushes you, throwing his arms around your waist, knees digging into the step below you, burying his face in your neck.

You laugh again, and hug him back, and when you dip your face against his, your cool lips graze his temples. His stomach lurches, and his pulse sings, and yeah, he’s definitely high, but it’s most certainly not all from the weed.

All his reservations fall away. Fall apart. Never fucking existed at all, and he’s just been kiding himself.

Eddie pulls back to look at you.

“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me,” he says. “I love you.”

You let out a little laugh. “I love you, too, dude.”

He shakes his head. Peels himself away from you and drops onto the step beside you. “No. I mean, I love you. I’m in love with you. And I have been since we were sixteen. I was doing a pretty good job of not doing anything about it, trying to maintain the friendship and all that, but then you show up here, and you tell me you booked my band a gig—”

“Technically not a gig!”

“—a gig,” Eddie says. “And suddenly, I don’t give a shit about maintaining anything. So, thanks for that. And I love you. I really fucking love you. Sorry if that screws things up.”

For a long second, you just look at him, and Eddie thinks he could die right there on that porch—which is ironic, considering he kind of almost did, if the grass near this porch in a parallel universe counts.

“Do you have any idea,” you ask, “how long I’ve been waiting for you to admit that?”

Eddie jerks back. “What are you—you knew?”

You tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear and look away, a sheepish smile on your face.

“I mean, of course I knew,” you say. “I’ve known you since we were ten. I know you. But time went on, and you still never said anything, and I wasn’t sure if I was wrong, or if you just had no goddamn clue how you felt, and then—“

“And how do you feel?” Eddie asks.

Your smile shifts. It shines like a thousand stars, brighter than anything in the night sky.

“I really fucking love you too,” you say. And then you kiss him, and you taste like frosting and weed and a thousand future kisses.

Eddie ends it sooner than he’d like—if he doesn’t, he’ll do something non-gentlemanly things on his porch, and he’s really trying to be a gentleman—and you drop your head onto his shoulder. You lace your fingers through his, fiddling with his rings with your free hand.

Sometime later, you lift your head, and say, “You never told me your wish.”

The cupcake with the joint. You instructed him to make a birthday wish on the first hit.

Eddie averts his gaze, swiping the hair from his eyes.

“My wish?” He shrugs. Meets your eyes. “You know the rules. Secret.” He draws his fingers across his lips and mimics throwing away a key.

You roll your eyes. “Humor me.”

Eddie inclines his head and considers a moment.

“You really want to know?”

“I want to know everything in that head,” you say, lifting two fingers to his temples.

Eddie knows he’s smiling like a dork, but he doesn’t care.

“It was you,” he says. “It’s always you.”

You press your lips together, but a smile tugs them up. You wind your arms around his neck and dip your forehead against him.

“Well,” you say softly. “You’ve got me. Time to find a new wish.”

“I’ll figure it out later,” he says. “Now, I just really want to kiss you again. You cool with that?”

You laugh, and say, “Yeah, I’m cool with that.”

Then you kiss him again.

And Eddie thinks this might be the best birthday he’s ever had.

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#brooke writes fic #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things #Eddie munson au #Eddie munson imagine #x reader

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storiesbyrhi · 2 years

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Vintage Reeboks - Chapter 2: Hey, Siri

Eddie Munson x Reader More Eddie fics here

Previous Chapters: 1 - Lover’s Lake

3794 words

Warnings: Mentions of mental illness; mentions of weed; mentions of murder/cult/the shit that went down in 1986

Synopsis: The gate at the bottom of Lover’s Lake was meant to spit the quartet out in the Upside Down. Steve, Nancy, and Robin were meant to be there. He wasn’t meant to be alone. But when Eddie comes to on the shoreline, you’re there. It’s not the Upside Down. It’s not Lover’s Lake. It’s not 1986.

Chapter Synopsis: Hey, Siri, play Should I Stay or Should I Go?

Author’s Note: Thank you to everyone who has liked, reblogged, and commented on Chapter 1! A very special thanks to the multiple Anons that had headcanons and suggestions for things Eddie would think/feel/question about 2022; keep them coming!

Chapter 2: Hey, Siri

The air by Lake Hopewell was cold, made colder by your wet underwear and hair. You were shivering so violently that it felt hard to even muster a step. But you had to make a decision; were you going to run, leave Eddie to handle his own shit – whatever that was. Alternatively, were you going to try to coax him back to a more placid state. Take him somewhere. But where?

You were deciding which hospital was the closest when the shoreline lit up. You spun in the direction of the lights. Most of the lakefront had been appropriated in the late 90s. Holiday homes were built, taking half the forest with them.

Of course Eddie’s feral screaming had drawn the attention of the residents.

“What the fuck is that?!” he yelped, coming to stand near you.

“Uh, I mean, this is a pretty populated place. Even in winter some of the places are rented out. And you’ve not exactly been quiet…”

“Who’s that out there?” a deep voice called from behind the dark.

Eddie reached out, pulling at your sleeve.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, but I can’t- I’ve got to go,” he said, his expression a troubled mix of sadness and fear. He bolted.

You felt your body pulling you in both directions, but ultimately, you chased after Eddie, not at all sure of the decision but running nonetheless.

One of the roads that serviced the holiday homes was just beyond a small wooded area. Eddie was stopped, standing in the middle of it, staring up at the streetlight.

When you came to stand near him, you could hear his heavy breathing. Tears began to stream down his face and he looked over at you.

“I’m not… I’m not crazy. I know how it sounds. I wouldn’t believe me either… But… I’m not… I’m not from here…” he whispered, his voice cracking.

“Where are you from?” you asked, keeping your voice quiet too.

“Hawkins. But… ’86…”

“1986,” you repeated, to which he nodded.

Time travel was overdone. There was an endless list of film and television shows exploring the concept. Books. Games. Every media form was saturated in theories of multiverses and timeline jumping. You’d never really given it much thought though. You weren’t really a Back to the Future kind of person.

Could it be real, though?

Anything was possible. That was something you did believe. The universe couldn’t be limited to what was discovered and understood. Even just statistically speaking, there had to be more than just the known. Still… It was a pretty hard ask to believe a stranger claiming to be from the past.

“Let’s say you are… from 1986. I don’t know how to send you back. I can’t help you,” you told Eddie.

He nodded. “Yeah… Yeah, no, of course… I just…” he began, turning to look down the road. “This cannot be fucking happening…”

“Maybe it’s not?” you said. He turned back to you. “I’m not… calling you crazy. But, like, what if you are? Because then we could get you help. Like at a hospital,”

“I know this flies in the face of all the laws of the universe, but hand on my heart – I’m not crazy. I just… I just need to find proof… Find a gate… Get out of here like a bat outta hell.”

Eddie was serious. Dead serious. If you trusted him, though, his seriousness might not be the thing to wind up dead.

Good Samaritans were always headlining stories; kindness begets murder. This you knew. It was particularly true for young women. You knew you were being fucking stupid, but there was something about him that felt authentic. There was honesty in his face.

Besides, if he was suffering from a mental illness, maybe it was better to play along with his delusion until you were somewhere safer. That’s what you’d tell people if it all ended badly, you decided.

“What kind of proof?” you asked him.

“Sorry?” he replied, he was again distracted with studying the streetlights.

“Proof. How can you prove you’re not from now?”

It was a good question. He pondered. Proof of identity. An ID, maybe. He checked his pockets, but all he found was a flooded lighter, soggy pack of smokes, and plastic bags. His wallet was probably somewhere in Rick’s boathouse.

If he really was in 2022, his trailer wouldn’t exist anymore. His locker at Hawkins High wouldn’t exist anymore. But… Eddie clapped his hands together and spun on the spot, landing and pointing at you.

“The yearbook! Hellfire Club. I’m in it!”

While he’d come up with his idea, you’d been thinking about your smashed phone. You probably could have just Googled him. If he jumped into 2022 in 1986, he would have made the news. Kid goes missing, never to be seen again. Something like that.

Eddie looked confused that you were not as excited as he was about the yearbook.

“I have no idea where we’d get a yearbook that old…” you started. “But, they might have them online. My high school made a database a few years before I graduated,”

“Online?”

“We could literally Google it right now if you hadn’t smashed my phone,” you said, the frustration evident.

Eddie ran his hands over his hair. “That was a phone? Phones are like… walkie talkies now?” he asked. You shrugged. “Yeah, look… I’m sorry… I just… I don’t have a glowing history with the cops, you know?”

“Right… Well… I’m going back for it. It’s definitely dead, but I could probably get some of the data pulled from it. My bag’s back there too. You just wait here. I’ll go get my stuff and my car,”

“Yeah, sure, okay. Thank you. Wait!” he called as you turned back the way you came. “I’m, uh, sorry. I’m sorry for all this,”

“Yeah, well, if you’re not full of shit, this is going to make a pretty cool story, right?”

Eddie chuckled, nodding. “And, I’m Eddie, by the way.”

Eddie. Somehow, that made sense. You told him your name and again, to wait.

He stood straight and saluted you.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Eddie watched you disappear into the darkness. His mind began to race.

Phones = walkie talkie. Google? Pull data? Holiday homes? Where are the fucking trees? He was absolutely going to kill Harrington for this. He should have never left the goddamn Shire.

You were gone too long and Eddie was starting to panic again. He thought maybe he would have been better equipped to fight a monster than navigate the future. Before he could decide which way to walk the road, headlights came around the corner and he jumped behind a tree, peering through the dark and light.

“It’s me,” you called from the open window of the driver’s side. You almost laughed when Eddie popped out.

That same look of confusion crossed his face when he saw your car. He slowly walked around it, getting into the front passenger seat. He was quiet as he looked at all the glowing buttons. You thought he was going to be sick.

Eddie was overwhelmed. He had no smokes. No weed. No clue how to open the window. The anxiety was fucking brewing in the quiet of the car.

“Do you want… to listen to music?” you asked. You’d been watching his hands tap frantically against his legs, which were in turn bouncing.

“Christ… Music… Did music get better or worse?” he joked.

“Depends who you ask, I guess. Let’s just go with something you know. Who do you like?”

Eddie thought. Big question. Not the time for a speech though.

“Do you have any Black Sabbath?”

“Spotify has everything. Hey Siri: play Black Sabbath,”

“Wha-,” Eddie slowly said, looking around the car, “Who’s Si-” but was interrupted by the familiar sounds of Am I Going Insane?

You had expected Eddie to be comforted by something from home. Instead, he had gone still and you could have sworn he was watching you out the corner of his eyes.

“What?” you asked.

“Did you play this on purpose?”

“What do you mean? You told me to,” you replied, the version where he was genuinely mentally unwell propelled back into the forefront of your mind.

“Yeah, no, this song. In particular,”

“Oh. No. Siri- Ah, the… computer… picked it,” you explained, looking over at the screen in the center console. “Oh. Fuck. Sorry. I can-”

Eddie burst into laughter. Real, proper laughter. Once he started, he couldn’t stop. The whole fucking situation was honest to god ridiculous.

“Yeah… The manic laughter really has strong ‘emotionally stable’ vibes,” you mumbled, letting him have his moment.

Spotify continued to shuffle Sabbath, and Eddie found his way back to some semblance of calm yet again.

“So…” he mused, moving in his seat to have a better view of you. “You can talk to the computer?”

After that, it was rapid-fire questions, containing but not limited to:

“Is Dungeons and Dragons still a thing? Does Ozzy Osbourne still bite the heads off bats? Did they try to make another New Coke? Are computers sentient? Is there still a ‘War on Drugs’? Are there still Nintendos? Is Ronnie James Dio still alive? Did they make more Star Wars movies?”

You wondered if he was purposefully not asking Hawkins-specific questions. If you were in his position, at the very least, you’d want to know what happened to the friends, the ones he was calling for at the lake.

Between every few questions, though, he’d pause and think. Maybe that’s where his life was. In survival mode, his life was subjugated to the back of his mind.

Maybe that’s why he wasn’t looking around as you drove through town. Although, apparently it hadn’t really changed much since the early 90s. When you moved the Hawkins, a homecoming for your mother, she said it was creepy.

“Frozen in time…” she’d whispered, freaking you out a little.

In reality, Eddie just kind of forgot to look around. Under normal circumstances, he was a very observant person. It was the details he committed to memory that made him witty and bitingly sharp. All that was lost in the haze of a pretty girl though.

He definitely, without a shadow of a doubt, did not want to be in 2022. However, … If he had to be, the silver lining was that it was a pretty girl lending aid.

You pulled into the alley behind your place. Eddie followed you down the alley and through the back gate. There were lights on inside the house, but you turned off the garden path and unlocked the door to the pool house.

Inside, you turned on the lights and looked around for your laptop.

“Is this a pool house?” Eddie asked.

“Uh, yeah. My uncle filled in the pool and built on onto the main house,” you explained as you flipped through your bed sheets, locating the computer.

“You live with your uncle?”

“And mum, yeah. Grew up in Pennsylvania but after my dad died, mum moved back here to be with family. My uncle renovated so she’d have space, and I got the pool house. Works out okay,” you told him with a shrug.

“I live with my uncle too,” Eddie told you.

You sat down at the bar, the cold sting of your wet clothes making you shiver again. Glancing over at Eddie, you realised he wasn’t just in cold underwear, but his entire outfit was still soaked. Your car seats were probably fucked.

“So, um, first name Eddie, last name?” you asked as you opened Chrome.

“Munson,” he replied quickly.

“Okay, here we… go…”

THE CURSE OF HAWKINS, INDIANA

DECADE OF DEATH: How a series of crimes went unsolved

SATANIC PANIC: The devil comes to small town America

Link after link after link of stories about Hawkins in the 80s. How had you never heard about it? Why hadn’t your mum told you?

“You didn’t know about any of this shit?” Eddie asked.

You slowly shook your head. “Nothing… What the fuck…”

Then, his name in a headline.

EDDIE MUNSON: MISSING CULT LEADER

“I… am not in a cult,” Eddie said, watching you click the link.

The site had a photo of the old shopping mall, the one that burned down in the mid-80s. A yearbook photo of a cheerleader, Chrissy Cunningham, began a section about cultism. The article said that she was murdered, along with a school paper reporter named Fred Benson, and a basketball player named Patrick McKinney. Then, another photo. It was grainer than the others, like it had been part of a bigger shot that was cropped.

“There, there! That’s me!” Eddie yelled, pointing at the screen, then jumping away, almost running laps of the room. “I’m not fuckin’ insane. Tiny flat computer says so!”

He was right.

He was even wearing the same goddamn shirt. Hellfire Club.

You read out loud. “Eddie Munson: still missing over three decades later,”

“I’m not missing!” Eddie said from behind you, each word dramatically enunciated to be a little longer than necessary. “I’m just…”

You spun around on your bar stool and looked at him from top to bottom.

His 80s metal hair.

The rings and chains. Pins. Patches.

The Reeboks, apparently not vintage, just… out of time and place.

“You’re from ’86,” you slowly said, bewildered.

Eddie came to stand in front of you, nodding enthusiastically. “Yeah, yeah, ’86 baby!”

The weight of the truth was heavy in the air. You both looked at the screen for a moment longer.

“What now?” Eddie asked, his head spinning, unable to stop on any one thought.

“Uh… I don’t know. But I need a shower. I can’t feel my toes,” you replied, standing. “Um, I’m gonna shower, then you can. I’ll find you something to wear. Just don’t go outside, okay? Might be an adult but my mum would still flip if she saw you… And, uh, you can use the laptop if you want.”

Scooping up some sweat pants and a t-shirt, you excused yourself into the bathroom.

Eddie was left in a room filled with completely foreign objects. He didn’t dare use the laptop. Instead, he stood in front of your bookcase, reading the spines and looking for similarities between you and him. There was overlap.

In the corner of the room, he found your old stereo. It had belong to your parents. An old thing that played vinyl, cassette, and CD. You had no cassettes, but Eddie was relieved to see records still existed. He picked up a CD case, flipping it over until he realised it opened. The disk was iridescent. He ignored the stack of CDs, instead moving back to the vinyl.

There were a lot, but mostly because you had stolen from your parents and uncle. Eddie found records from bands he knew but albums he didn’t. The world had gone on without him. All the musicians kept playing.

Wiping his face, Eddie stood and tried to distract himself again.

Except for the small kitchenette in the corner that was really no more than a bar and sink, the room didn’t look too dissimilar to his own back in Forest Hills Trailer Park.

There were clothes strewn about. Books and journals, and other evidence of everyday life. Empty mugs and glasses half filled with water. You had a television, too. He recognised it, although it was markedly more evolved than the versions he was used to.

Yeah, time moved forward, but maybe society didn’t advance as quickly as sci-fi novelists predicted. Gotta take the wins, Eddie thought.

You appeared from the bathroom, changed, dry, warmer. The towel wrapped around your hair made Eddie smile. He liked that girls still did that.

“I had a thought. I think my uncle has a box of clothes in there-” you said, pointing to a set of double doors that opened to reveal a small storage space.

In a box marked ‘winter’ you pulled out sweat pants… ice skates… and quickly realised you’d found the box of unmastered hobbies your uncle didn’t have the attention span to learn. Old board games. A tambourine?

“Alright, well, these will fit,” you said with a shrug, throwing the pants at Eddie. “And, I reckon I have a shirt…”

It was your dad's, so there was some hesitation to pull it from the back of the drawer. It would fit Eddie though, and you thought he might get a kick out of it.

“Slayer?!” he squealed.

“You’re welcome. There’s a clean towel in there. Take your time.”

Eddie trotted off to the bathroom with a wide smile.

You wondered what he had looked at while you were showering. The room had no evidence of a time traveler’s efforts to catch up. Sighing, you began to dry your hair, resolving to online research until you could get more information from Eddie.

…

Your bathroom was small. A cube of a room with a small vanity, medicine cabinet mirror, shower just big enough for someone Eddie’s size, and toilet tucked behind the door.

He didn’t recognise any of the brands, then again, he probably wouldn’t know the brands girls like you used in ’86. The shampoo smelt nice though, almost neutral. It smelt like clean. And that’s all he really wanted to feel.

The showerhead had excellent pressure and the water was so hot it was at the top of Eddie’s tolerance level. It was perfect. It was almost enough to drown out the thoughts, but not quite. He did his best to control his crying and not let it turn to sobs.

When he fled the trailer, leaving Chrissy dead but still warm, he didn’t see a way out of it. Alone in Rick’s boathouse, cold, hopeless, he had rocked himself in a sorry attempt at comfort until Dustin and his band of monster-hunting Scooby-Doo motherfuckers came to save the day. Eddie didn’t see himself getting so lucky a second time.

No traumatised but courageous freshmen were about to rescue him. All he had was… you.

Maybe you’d be enough.

Eddie found you sitting on your bed, face lit up by the screen of your laptop. Your eyes flicked to him as he exited the bathroom.

“They fit,” you noted.

Eddie nodded. “Yeah. Thanks… What should-”

“Just chuck everything in there,” you pointed at an open washing basket.

There was nothing to save from his pockets, but he hung his denim vest on the back of a barstool and his leather jacket on the back of the second. Everything else went into the basket.

Tentatively, he moved to sit next to you on your bed, crossing his legs as you had.

“I think we should ask my mum and uncle about what happened,” you announced.

“Absolutely not,” Eddie replied immediately.

“They grew up here. They’re totally going to know who you are,”

“Therein lies the problem. Everyone thinks I… They think I did those things. A couple decades isn’t going to change that,”

“The fact that you time traveled might. My uncle is so into all that kind of shit. He Donnie Darko like five times in the cinema,”

“What? No. No, okay. I just… We’ve got to find a way that doesn’t involve the possibility of me getting attacked by an angry mob of townspeople. There’s gotta be a Dustin Henderson of 2022,” Eddie said, his signature huge brown eyes of sadness threatening to go puppy dog again.

“I don’t know what that means, but okay. Alright. Well… Honestly, I’m so fucking tired I can’t look at this screen anymore… I think we should just pick this up in the morning,” you tell him, slapping your laptop closed and putting it on the bedside table.

Eddie jumped up, nodding.

“I’ll just crash on the couch,” he said, heading over to it.

“Sofa bed. Folds out.”

You watched him struggle for a second, grin at you with rosy cheeks, then accomplish the task. He held his hands out, as if to present it dramatically.

“Ta-da!”

You laughed. “Well done. Here,” and you chucked him an extra blanket. “There’s some pillows in there.”

Eddie collected them from the storage space, its doors still open. He glanced into the winter box, noticing a familiar object. Leaning down and picking it up, he studied the D20.

“Your uncle played D&D?”

You shrugged. Eddie carefully sat the dice on your bookshelf, like it meant something important, then returned to making his little nest. As he did, you found where you’d left your prescription on the bar and popped a couple.

“What’s that?” Eddie asked, sitting up in the sofa bed, watching you curiously.

“Can’t fall asleep easy. Ambien helps.”

The grin that spread across Eddie’s face was as good a request as any. You leaned back against the countertop.

“Were you a stoner?” you asked him.

“Were? I’m not dead yet. I’ll have you know that I am not a simple partaker, but an esteemed entrepreneur,”

“Ahhh,” you said, laughing. “You were the local drug dealer. That explains why they thought you were the devil,”

“That and the music, yeah,” Eddie replied. “So… May I?”

You walked over and let him tip a couple pills out the bottle. He downed them; no water needed.

Bundled up in your separate beds, you both began to replay the night’s events in your heads.

“Hey…” Eddie whispered. You mumbled out a sound. “What were you doing in Lover’s Lake?”

Fuck. You were hoping that he’d not ask.

You’d gone out to Lake Hopewell around midnight. Cried in your car for a while. Felt claustrophobic. Ran through the patch of trees, bag smacking against your side. Standing on the waterline, you saw there was evidence of life in the holiday homes scattered around, but you were invisible.

The idea had come suddenly to you, the origins unknown. Swim. So, you threw off your clothes as fast as you could and waded out. You swam to what felt like the very middle and floated for a while. But then there were bubbles.

At first, you thought you were about to be eaten by a fucking alligator or something. Logic reigned though, and your conscience wouldn’t let you leave it alone. With a deep breath in, you dove. There he was. Eddie, drowning.

“Swimming,” you answered.

Eddie paused. “Okay,” he replied softly. Who was he to press?

Before he drifted into an uneasy sleep, Eddie prayed that he would wake up back in his trailer, and for everything that happened since Chrissy to be just a really fucked up nightmare.

Just before the Ambien kicked in, you wondered if you were going to be murdered in your sleep. Had you made the worst decision of your life?

End Note: Okay, so he’s in the here and now. What do you want Eddie to get up to in 2022? What should he learn about? What does he want to learn about? Obviously, the objective is for him to get home, but there’s gotta be side missions too! Let me know!

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson Fanfic #Eddie Munson Fanfiction #Stranger Things #Stranger Things 4 #Stranger Things Fanfic #Mine #Eddie Munson/Reader

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lucilleandherrobots · 2 years

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Gardio: *driving down the road in his car. He hasn't taken the box out of his passenger side seat, mostly to cover up his case notes from prying eyes. Recalling what happened at the precinct and Nick...* Damn it...

Traffic: *comes to a halt*

Gardio: Shit-! *skids and serves off the road. Hears loud explosions off in the distance* WHAT THE HELL-?! *gets out of his car just in time to see the fiery plume of a nuclear mushroom cloud in the distance* Oh- oh my god... *clamoring back into his car to try to back down the walk only to find his path blocked by traffic* No- no, no, no!

Gardio: *panicking, watching people get out of their cars and make a run for it and considers doing the same*

Days, probably months pass... everything is a blur...

Gardio: *has given up on the case- figures Eddie Winter probably died... same for Nick...* *swears when he realizes he left the box in the car... he wanted to look at his baby girl and late wife one last time. He'd holed up in an abandoned apartment and boarded up most of the exits to protect himself from raiders. Found some good food that'll last a while in other parts of the building*

Months turn into years...

Gardio: *managed to fortify the apartment with weapons he found. Knows the whole building top to bottom and all the traps he's put in place. He's set up a defense system and turrets built from terminals and scrap. He uses some parts of the apartment as store rooms for supplies and food after he goes out hunting in the wastes...*

Gardio: *wraps his neck tightly with a scarf to stop a cough he's developed... his purple hair has started to fall out and his skin seems to be going patchy... his wits are still about him, though despite his deteriorating condition*

Raiders: *don't pay him any kind of mind until he gets close*

Gardio: *if they open fire he's quick to fire back, his reflexes still sharp from his days as a cop* *leaves them some dignity with their clothes still intact but isn't shy about looting armor and food on them- he's got a bunker to keep stocked if he's ever going to survive to see another sensible human being again... or maybe even break into Vault 111 near his little girl's home just to see her again, even if he looks like a monster*

Decades start to roll on by... possibly a century...

Gardio: *sits in his apartment mostly keeping an ear out for radio broadcasts for help, known as the Gargoyle by many in this run down neighborhood and especially the "tenants", settlers he's taken in, mostly because when his still quite hulking form is in the shadows people say his eyes glow bright green... others have called him a "glowing one" but he's not quite sure what they mean by that...*

Gardio: *The radio... he listens to hopefully hear Lucille's voice on it. He knows she probably won't recognize him. His skin and cartilage is all shriveled and rotted away... his hair has reduced to tufts of what used to be compared to a purple lions mane framing his face. Doing good by others and listening for his daughter is all he can do to keep himself sane in the apocalypse. He knows its unlikely given the time that's passed, but just one last time...*

Another century passes by... over 200 years now...

Scavenger: My great grandfather used to live in that apartment... a man that they called the Gargoyle kept a whole community of shopkeepers and families going out of one lone building. Most secure apartment in all of Cainbridge.

Settler: Yeah. I think I've heard of the guy. Big glowing ghoul wore a fedora and a detectives uniform. Kind of like that weird synth in Diamond City. Whatever happened to him?

Scavenger: Grandpa said the old guy started losing it. The apartment fell into disrepair. People started leaving for their safety. Guess all that radiation finally got to the old ghoul.

Settler: He attacked the residents?! Guess all those zombies really are the same.

Scavenger: Don't get it twisted... he growled a lot and slurred his speech. He's big like a supermutant. But he never hurt no one. Just got really bad at keeping up repairs cause he stayed in his room listening to the radio so much. Grandpa said he used to mutter about his daughter a lot, sometimes crying like an overgrown kid.

Settler: You think he's still in there?

Scavenger: What's in there is just another feral. I'd go in to loot the building but I'm scared I'll run into something right out of Hell itself.

Gardio: *currently muttering things to himself, struggling to keep a grip on reality... he can feel his mind slipping. The guilt from letting the tenants of the apartment down weighs on his psyche like an anchor.*

Gardio: *He still mourns his darling daughter Lucille... wishing he didn't outlive her. The faded photos of his wife and daughter and tattered drawings once long ago taped to file holders on his precinct desk made by a 5 year old girl hang on the walls. They're all that's left keeping his mind alive*

Another decade passes... 2287... the year Lucille thaws out from the vault. The year the Institute is destroyed...

Gardio: *shambles around the apartment listless... doesn't know what he's doing mostly. Things... go in and out. His speech is mostly garbled but occasionally he speaks coherently and his thoughts are clear enough to reach through the glowing green fog in his mind... the man that is and was Gardio Chapel is starting to wither and become nothing more than a mindless beast*

Lucille: *comes on over the radio broadcasting about the Institute during her undercover mission*

Gardio: *the neon fog clears for the longest time he's had it fade in a while. A spark of hope fills his once emerald green now quite glowing green pupiless eyes as he grabs the radio, just barely holding back from crushing it. Voice garbled by his condition* Lucille?! *tries to tune into the frequency she's on but it's not a two way frequency...*

Gardio: *finally just sits on his ancient mattress and listens. Happy to hear her voice again after a century or so of mourning. Tears streak down his withered cheek... he wasn't even sure he could still cry*

Lucille: *speaks of what the Institute plans to do... and her father actually comprehends what she's saying little to her knowledge of him being alive*

Gardio: Oh god... what have you gotten yourself into, my little light... These people... they're dictators... and you're with them? That doesn't sound like my little girl at all... *looking at the radio in concern*

Gardio: ... What... what am I saying... *the fog starts seeping into his mind again once it's over* Just... Gruh... glad... Mrrrm... glad you're aliverrrgrr. *covers his face with his hands* Lurr... seerrrr... *gurgles as he gets lost in the fog again, one last thought being the image of his daughter's smiling face*

A few months pass... the explosion that rocks the Commonwealth, changing it forever comes and goes...

Gardio: *isn't sure what happened... nor does it occur that the event even took place to him.

Gardio: *He's still hanging on just to see her again... he's decided to end it. Everything. He just... doesn't know how. He wants to be with family when he goes through with it... he's so tired... if he waits much longer, he'll... he'll truly be a monster. He doesn't want that. If he's going to go out, it'll be on his terms, not the radiation inflicted on him by the war... he only remembers all this when he comes out of the fog thanks to notes he leaves around his ruined apartment*

A turret: *gets destroyed*

Gardio: *grunts, acknowledging the noise. He's on guard but he's not sure what about it is familiar. Things are hazy in the fog...*

???: *from below on the lower floors* Whoever put this up must have wanted to protect something awful precious...

??? 2: *just walks ahead in thick metal footsteps. It's unmistakably power armor*

Gardio: *there's something familiar about the first person's voice... like he's heard it before*

???: Got a thing for antiques, huh? Hehe.

??? 2: *through a radio built into the powerarmor* Well yeah. The best ones talk!

Gardio: *falls to the ground to hear the conversation. The second one. Lucille. Everything is clear again... gurgles lowly* Who are you with...? Are they with the Institute? Or are they good...? You seem to be friends with them...?

???: *suddenly cautious* Kid, there's something in here...

Lucille: Yeah, Nick. I heard the thud. What do you wager it is? Supermutant? Deathclaw?

Gardio: Nick... no... Not him. He had to have died during the war...

Nick: Dunno. Could be. *sounds of a weapon charging* What's the old saying again? An ounce of preparation-

Lucille: Is worth a pound of cure. *soft sad chuckle as they climb stairs and rubble to get to the source of the sound they heard* My father used to say that all the time to me as a child... I miss him so much.

Nick: He was a good man. The old Nick knew him, I think. Gardio, was his name, right?

Lucille: *pauses in the power armor* He knew my father...?

Gardio: *eyes widen* How...?

Nick: They worked in the same precinct. The Cainbridge branch. There's an old memory of them talking over coffee and some donuts about his little girl, how much he wanted her to be happy.

Gardio: ...He remembered it after all... that sly old dog... *remembers it well... the worry, the donuts, the coffee... Nick's kind face and equally kind advice... the stiff morning air as he left the building to start work when his mind was sharp and the world seemed like a simpler place.*

Gardio: *Something that sounds like him with his memories is following around. She's friends with it- him- obviously... wonders how much of his former coworker this thing really is. Or is it a simulacre mockery of the man?*

Lucille: How long have you known, Nick?

Nick: *sighs* When you first took off your helmet. You have his bizarre hair.

Lucille: So... You didn't think to tell me...? Why?

Nick: ...I really can't say for certain why I never brought him up until now. What I do know is that he was a good man. And I... well not I, but Nick treated him kind of badly at the end. I'm still regretting how it all went down. Nick was bitter. *disapproving* Lashing out at anyone who reached out to help him after... well... Jenny. If I could say one last thing to the old gargoyle, it would be sorry.

Gardio: *listening intently. Didn't know he needed to hear that from Nick until now*

Nick: Sorry for how the old Nick left things. Sorry for blaming him when he didn't have the power to do anything. Sorry for being an ass when all he wanted to do was was help. But I don't think I'm ever going to get that chance.

Gardio: *doesn't know why but now he feels a sense of closure... perhaps because he abandoned pursuing the Winter case off the record all those decades ago*

Lucille: I see... I'm sure, knowing my father, he'd forgive you... he was a very understanding and open minded man. *starts moving again* You two are cut from the same moral fiber, it's almost scary.

Nick: *sounds much closer* Sure seems that way. I'll tell you one thing, though, he sure raised one heck of a daughter to do what you've done-

Gardio: *sits up and hears a thud and metal clanking of armor plates colliding*

Lucille: *elbowed Nick who barely faultered* Give yourself some credit, Val! You helped save this place from the Institute by supporting me every step of the way!

Gardio: *smiles... there's the rebellious but kind little angel he knew. It does his old irradiated ghoul heart proud*

Lucille: *stops in front of the door*

Gardio: *scrambles to his feet*

Lucille: Is it me or is there something in there?

Nick: I think this is the room the noise we heard earlier came from... Picking up hints of radiation so watch yourself.

Lucille: You think I wear this powerarmor to look pretty?

Nick: Well, to put it bluntly, yes.

Lucille: *playfully* Shut up! *starts picking the door* Crap. This one's really solid. Whoever locked this room down knew what they were doing. *smirks as it all clicks into place* Luckily I've learned a thing or two since Shaun got curious and thawed me out for shits and giggles- *goes dead silent as soon as she opens the door*

Nick: *notices her sudden stiffness and gets his gun ready* *lands his mechanical eyes on Gardio and straightens up* Oh...

Lucille: *looks between the drawings on the wall, the notes he's written, and the pictures on the desk then at the glowing one in a detective's uniform in front of her* Dad...?

Gardio: ... This... isn't how I expected to see you... but I'm g-glad... *looks over at the old synth next to her* Ah... long time, old friend...

Nick: Gardio... I... didn't think- My god... all these years? You've been here...? This whole time...?

Gardio: *coughs and gurgles* Y-yeah... well... occasionally I'd leave for supplies for the complex... F-for a time I was running an entire community... Hope that I'd one day see my little girl again kept me going... *grunts, fighting back a part of him he hasn't had to hold back for years since his mental health started to decline... the urge to consume fresh meat. He covers his face with a hand*

Lucille: *steps toward him* Dad... Are you-

Gardio: *growls and snaps* Don't. Don't come near me. I don't want to hurt you... It might be for the best you stay in your power armor...

Lucille: *stops. She so badly wants to hug her father but she's seen and slain enough feral ghouls to understand*

Nick: *solemn realization* You're turning feral...

Gardio: *ravenous but sad look in his eyes as he slides his hand down to look at the pair* Yes... Tb- that leads me to a request I have... I want to die on my own terms... while I'm like this... cogniscent... me... *covers what's left of his nose to try to hide the scent of human flesh wafting off his own daughter* I- I'm surprised you recognised me... Urk... *backs away, the fog in his head starting to overwhelm him again*

Lucille: I... well... You're not hard to miss... besides, you're still wearing your favorite tie pin, the golden angel wing.

Gardio: *nods straightening back up again* Oh... am I...? I hadn't noticed...

Nick: *grimly* Ghouls live for a long time. How did you plan to pull the plug?

Gardio: I... I wanted Lucille to-

Lucille: I won't do it. We can find a way to help you.

Gardio: *sad weak but proud smile* Angel, no... I can feel myself... turning... it's too late... let me go like this in the company of an old friend and my daughter. While I can still make the decision myself.

Lucille: *voice breaks into a sob* Don't make me do this! *backs away* Please, Daddy-!

Nick: *grabs Lucille's arm* I'll do it.

Lucille: *gasps*

Nick: Gardio, your daughter's brave. She's strong- the strongest damn person I've ever met. But this... this is asking too much.

Gardio: I suppose you're right...

Lucille: *frightened* Nick-!

Nick: You're not long for this world. I can tell just by listening to the way you slur your words. I know I'm not the original Valentine, but on behalf Lucille and a mutual old friend, let it be me to end your suffering.

Gardio: *goes quiet before emitting a low growl it slowly turns into a sentence* Yes... I think you're right... as sharp you were in life, Detective Valentine...

Nick: Heh. Actually I dare say being a synth has helped make me sharper than before the war...

Gardio: *slurred growl* ... And more honest... *to Lucille* You don't have to watch... I'm sorry I requested something so horrible... you can... you can leave, little light.

Lucille: I'd prefer to stay here... I'll just turn away. Either way, I... *voice catches* I want to be by your side when you go quietly into that good night...

Gardio: *smiles at the literary reference* Alright then. *to the Synth* Nick?

Lucille: *turns around*

Nick: I'll try to make this mostly painless. *Taking aim at the heart*

Lucille: Mostly...?

Nick: I want to make sure he has a chance to see you without your helmet on... without taking a bite out of your face...

Gardio: *tries to speak clearly* I think... I would like that...

Nick: ...Alright. Any last words for me specifically before I fill you with lasers and radiation?

Gardio: Sorry... about not tracking Winter...

Nick: *freezes* Wait... you went to track him down after the case was closed...?

Gardio: *nods* I couldn't leave it be... but then the war happened... and-

Nick: Don't worry about it. We got the bastard. He was under a sub shop in Boston. Looked worse than you.

Gardio: *gives as close to a chuckle he can* I doubt it...

Nick: *takes aim again* I'm sorry things ended so badly-

Gardio: I know... and I forgave Nick a long time ago for it...

Nick: I'm sure he can rest easy now that I know and I'm sure you could say the same yourself...

Gardio: You... have no idea... *lowers his head* Alright... *coughs* If that's everything... I'm ready...

Nick: *closes his eyes and fires the Assaultron head, emptying a few rounds into the Gargoyle's heart, dropping him to the floor with a loud thud*

Lucille: *flinches at the sound*

Nick: ... *quietly* It's done...

Lucille: *climbs out of her power armor and takes off her helmet, setting it on the night table next to her father's bed*

Nick: Careful...

Lucille: *holding back a sob, tears streaming down her face* He won't hurt me... *lays down next to him*

Gardio: Foolish... *despite this he doesn't feel the hunger anymore. For the first time in what feels like a century, he feels like the man he used to be*

Lucille: I know, but this is the last time you get to see me. I want to make it count...

Gardio: *pained smile as he pets his daughter's hair for the last time* Stay strong... Daddy always... loves... you... *manages to barely close his eyes before his last breath*

Lucille: *sniffs and hugs him tightly, ignoring the blood and her Geiger counter on her pipboy crackling* I will, Daddy... I love you too-! *sobs into the dead Gardio's coat*

Nick: *stands by and watches the door for enemies so she can say her goodbyes. Decides to light a cigarette in Gardio's memory and quietly quote Shakespeare's Hamlet, modified for the situation at hand* Alas, poor Gardio... I knew him... a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy, and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is. My gorge rims at it...

Nick: *while reminiscing the two times the old Nick had talked nicely to the soft hearted gargoyle* Where be your gibes now? Your gambols? Your songs?

Nick: *recalls his bad play at humor over the coffee and the morning paper* Your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one now, to mock your own grinning? Quite chap-fallen?

Lucille: *a wail peirces the quiet sobs. She clutches what's left of her father... she grieved him once before, premeturely... but it seemed so distant then*

Nick: *winces as he looks at the picture of Eileen next to Lucille's, and can't help but think of Jenny. He nods, knowing he's with them now...* Now get you to my lady’s chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must come; make her laugh at that... *exhales a puff of smoke into the dimly lit room*

(Tagging this so these guys can see it if it gets buried. @syntheticmelancholy @sleuthomatic)

#fallout 4 #nick valentine #fo4 #sole survivor #lucille #lucille chapel #gardio chapel #gardio #BEHOLD! THE BIGGEST DIALOGUE I HAVE EVER WRITTEN!#now I'm going to scream into the void.#i might as well have just written a fanfic but I really wanted to keep in line with the format I've been using for the others #long post #gardio the gargoyle

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elisela · 4 years

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you’ve got my love to keep you warm buck x eddie, 1.8k, nsfw, vermont verse for @extasiswings who asked for: I want CUDDLES. Lazy winter mornings snuggling up in bed because it's too cold, there's too much snow, and no, the hot water bottle does not count to rectify these things, that's what husbands are for.

He wakes up to an empty bed, pushes himself up and immediately drops back down, burrowing deeper into the covers and pulls the thick duvet over his head. Fuck, the house is freezing, worse than normal. He doesn’t know where Buck has gone, mourns the loss of his body heat and sticks a hand out, groping around the nightstand for his phone.

Eddie: Cold hunky husband: Don’t look at your weather app Eddie: Stop changing your name in my phone and get up here hunky husband: u don’t think i’m hunky??? :(

He rolls his eyes, thumbs over to the weather app and curses.

Eddie: I’m moving to a beach in Mexico hunky husband: I told you not to look at the weather app, you big baby. hunky husband: Come downstairs Eddie: I’m not leaving this bed. Eddie: I’ll freeze to death.

He tosses the phone down at his side and tries to tuck the duvet around him more tightly, which works for all of a minute before it’s being yanked off him and he yelps, grabbing for it.

“Rise and shine, baby,” Buck says brightly.

He reaches out and grabs, hooking his fingers into the waistband of Buck’s—shorts? What the fuck?—and pulling him down. “Fuck off and warm me up,” he says. “It’s five degrees outside, what the hell are you wearing?”

“If you’d ever exercise—” Buck twists away when Eddie pinches him. “Oh, just for that you’re not joining me in the shower,” he says, and laughs when Eddie scrambles off the bed after him.

He catches Buck around the waist and presses into him, resting his head against his shoulder blade and nuzzling in despite his damp, sweaty skin. Buck’s hands come up and rest on top of his; Eddie feels their wedding bands click together as Buck squeezes his hands. There are goosebumps on his skin, and his knees knock into the back of Buck’s legs as they shuffle towards the bathroom but he keeps holding on, not wanting to let him go. He hears the water running already, and when Buck gets the door open, they’re met with a wall of steam and Eddie sinks into the warmth.

“Genius,” he mutters, pressing a kiss to Buck’s bare skin. “This is why you’re the one with the degree.”

Buck’s chest rumbles as he laughs. “Yeah, that B.A. in Husband Pampering is really paying off.”

“Sure is,” Eddie says, stepping back to pull his clothes off. He rolls his eyes and gathers up the shorts and boxer briefs that Buck leaves in a pile on the floor, and tosses them into the laundry hamper before stepping into the shower and immediately wrapping his arms around Buck again. He hums and melts against him, twisting easily when Buck pivots so he’s under the spray. “Why’s it so fucking cold in this house?”

“Because when you got the heating bill last month you said you weren’t made of money and the co-op was bleeding you dry,” Buck says, and Eddie doesn’t have to look to see the smile on his face. “So I turned down the thermostat a few degrees.”

He pulls back at that, pushing Buck’s shoulder until he can look him in the eye. “You did what?”

“The co-op says that keeping that house at fifty-five degrees—“

“Fifty-five?” His mouth drops open—Buck’s heard him complain about the cold for seven years now, and he turns the temperature down to fucking fifty-five? “That’s hardly above freezing,” he says—says, not whines, because Eddie is thirty-five years old and he does not whine. “Get out and turn it up.”

Buck laughs and pulls him forward, and Eddie allows him because there’s not a chance in hell that he’ll ever willingly refuse being pressed against his husband, especially when Buck’s strong, extremely capable hands are wandering down his back, sending a different type of shiver down his spine as his fingers stroke gently against Eddie’s skin. “You can handle a little cold,” he says, “you’ve got my love to keep you warm,” and then he slaps Eddie’s ass and snorts.

“To think I was going to let you fuck me,” Eddie says, and Buck laughs helplessly against his shoulder. “You don’t get to now.”

“You’ll change your mind,” Buck says. “I have plans for you, me, and that rug in front of the fireplace tonight.”

“At least I won’t freeze to death,” he says, pressing forward and turning Buck into the wall—if he gets a certain pleasure at the hiss Buck lets out from being pressed against the cold tile, it’s only because he deserves the revenge. Buck’s fingers trail across the base of his spine, and Eddie pulls him closer, bites just below his ear before he whispers “if you keep me warm, maybe I won’t make you wait until tonight.”

He pulls back enough to see the way Buck’s eyes light up at the challenge and is not at all surprised when Buck pulls him in for a kiss, holding onto his hip with one hand and wrapping his other arm around Eddie’s waist to keep them close as he slides his leg in between Eddie’s. Eddie catches his bottom lip and bites down, rocking himself against Buck’s thigh and groaning, hands groping at his husband’s arms. Sometimes he’s still stunned at how badly he wants Buck, how quickly he can get to the edge with him, like the past several years of domesticity has disappeared and he’s back to seeing Evan Buckley standing shirtless in his backyard, watching the way sweat rolled down his chest and feeling the desperate need for relief.

And now that he’s thinking about that—

Buck’s short gasps are quiet against his mouth as Eddie reaches between them and strokes them together, breath coming faster as he rocks up into Eddie’s fist, his tongue sweeping across Eddie’s lips. Buck rests his forehead against Eddie’s, eyes dropped down, and Eddie knows he’s watching how they look together, gets a thrill from the way Buck pulls back and looks at him before he groans. “Baby,” Buck says, his breath hitching, “you’re so fucking hot.”

He shudders when Buck moves and presses his hands against the cold skin on his back where the water isn’t falling, and maybe it’s difference in temperature that throws his body into overdrive or maybe it’s the way Buck bites his neck before throwing his head back and closing his eyes as he comes with a gasp; either way, Eddie loses his balance a little and stumbles forward, groans when the head of his cock drags against Buck’s stomach, and follows him over.

He leans on Buck for a moment, tries to get his breathing under control before sliding a hand around his neck and pulling him down, and lets Buck kiss his shoulder before Eddie whispers into his ear, “baby, I’m so fucking cold.”

“You’re treating me like a child,” Eddie says—says, not pouts, because he is thirty-five years old and needs to save the pouting for when he really wants to get his way, say, when his husband and son are ganging up on him.

But this is not one of those times, so he just says it in a completely normal tone of voice.

“Maybe that’s because I can’t tell if it’s Eddie or Christopher begging me for something right now,” Buck says. “Eds, I swear, I just need to finish submitting these forms and I’ll go get your book. Or, you know, you could go get it.”

And leave his nest of blankets, curled up on the couch with his feet in his husband’s lap? “Or could you keep me warm like you promised.”

He knows Buck’s trying to keep his face neutral, but the corner of his mouth curves up for just a moment before he fights it back down. “I think you could make it up to the office and back,” Buck says. “Pretty sure your body heat will hold for that long.”

“Can’t risk it,” Eddie says, letting his body fall back onto the couch and picking his phone back up. “What do you want for lunch? Hen just dropped the boys off and says she’s stopping at Bobby’s on the way back and she can pick us up something if we want.”

“Just get two of whatever you want,” Buck says, and shakes his head when Eddie mutters about liver and onions. “Real nice,” he says. “Just for that, I’m not building the garage you want.”

“I’ve wanted a garage for seven years,” Eddie says, finishing the text to Hen and setting his phone on his stomach, “and every year you say okay, now you’ll build it. It’s not exactly a threat anymore.”

Buck pushes Eddie’s feet off his lap and stands up, laptop dangling from one hand. “Yes, but now I submitted the permits, so you’ll actually get it. Or you will if Hen doesn’t show up with liver and onions.” He leans down and kisses Eddie’s forehead before bounding up the stairs, and Eddie grabs his phone and unlocks it.

Eddie: Can you pick up chocolate cake from the bakery? Hen: Can you watch Denny on Friday night? Eddie: Definitely. Two slices? And that dark hot chocolate.

He takes a screenshot and sends it to Buck, hears the chime on his phone at the same time Buck comes clattering down the stairs, and despite Buck dropping onto the other end of the couch, his phone buzzes a moment later.

hunky husband: aww u do love me!

He waits for Buck to toss the book to him, but Buck just pats his lap and says, “c’mere, Eds,” and helps rearrange the blankets around him after he settles his head on Buck’s lap and turns his face in, almost pressing his nose against Buck’s stomach.

Buck reads to him, holding the book in one hand and rubbing the back of Eddie’s neck with the other, until Hen drops by with their food and stays long enough to tease Eddie about his aversion to the cold, and Buck turns on Say Yes to the Dress while they eat and indulge in Eddie’s favorite trashy television past time—making fun of people for choosing ugly wedding dresses.

He’s not sure how they end up on the “Hallmark Christmas Movies” category, but by the time the room is getting dark, Buck is sprawled out against him, sniffling suspiciously when a man wearing fatigues shows up to a school concert last minute, and Eddie doesn’t have the heart to tease him about it, just kisses his forehead and rubs his back slowly.

But as much as he loves his husband, he does not love overly sappy, poorly written Chrismas movies, so he reaches for the remote when the credit rolls and turns it off. The only light comes from the fireplace, which reminds him—

“Didn’t you have plans for you and me and that rug over there?” he asks, letting his fingers wander underneath Buck’s hoodie.

“Can wait,” Buck says, snuggling closer to him and tilting his head up; Eddie feels his lips against his neck, a soft kiss pressed into his skin. “I’m nice and warm right here.”

And surprisingly, despite the bitter cold outside, Eddie is too.

#buddie fic #buddie #vermont verse #eddie diaz #evan buckley #fluff #domestic fluff #so much domestic fluff honestly #eli writes

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randomoranges · 4 years

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Home is Where the Heart Is

hey hi hello do you like soft canon with hurt?

the saga continues of étienne’s adventures in edmonton. had this idea since this summer. lol.

end october/beginning november 2020

Edward scans the crowd and tries to keep his nerves under control. He makes sure he isn’t too close to others, while still maintaining contact with the arrivals doors. Étienne should be arriving any moment now. In fact, his plane has landed, therefore, with every new batch of people who walk through the doors; Étienne could be one of them.

He checks his phone for what is surely the fiftieth time in the past three minutes, but he finds no new messages other than the one from his boyfriend letting him know that “the bird has landed.” Edward fixes his mask and follows a person who walks out, thinking it might be Étienne, but it’s not.

The reason he’s here started towards the beginning of the month of September. He’d been enjoying his video call with Étienne, something they did once every two days or so after he’d gone back home, when Étienne had grown quiet.

“Were you serious?” He’d asked and Edward had wondered what exactly Étienne was alluding to, “When you said I could come over whenever – were you serious?” He’d reiterated.

“Of course. Whenever you want. Hell, you could even be on the way to the airport at the moment. You could even already be in Edmonton.” He’d wondered if Étienne was concocting some trip and had dared to hope that he’d be seeing his boyfriend sooner rather than later.

He’d meant it. Étienne could surprise him on his doorstep with little to no warning and he’d be happy to have him over.

Summer had been – kind to Étienne, but not in its usual ways. It was a good thing it had been a hot summer, at least Étienne had been able to enjoy the outdoors, but – Edward had seen the toll of the pandemic on his boyfriend’s face. Had seen the dark circles that had made a comeback and had listened to the change in Étienne’s song from determined and hopeful to pessimistic and downtrodden.

And of course, now things seemed to be getting worse again.

Étienne was at wits ends.

Étienne is at wits ends.

“I don’t know what to do anymore, Ed,” He’d said. “Every time I go out – there’s a new place that’s closed down. How are the others going to make it? What’s going to be left of the city once this is all over? What’s going to be left of me? It’s like no one cares! Everything we did for naught! And then there’s those who say it’s a joke or a hoax. Yet I can’t even have my fucking sister over anymore – again. I can’t. I go grocery shopping and I fucking panic thinking maybe I’m going to infect someone, because what if it’s on me and I just don’t know because I can’t even fucking die properly.”

He looked manic. Wild and scared and desperate.

Edward had been – worried.

Edward always worried. He always worries. He still worries. He worried by nature, but – he worried for Étienne in a different way.

He knows of Étienne’s troubles – knows how his mood dips and changes and peeks and crests and falls straight through and he knows how personally he takes every single problem that afflicts the city, as though he’s responsible for the decision of millions.

Edward had feared this – had feared that Étienne would spiral back out to how he’d been in April, but now he thinks he’d prefer the manic busy version of Étienne to this more lethargic and angry one.

Edward had tried to be reassuring. Said that he’d be fine – he’d managed. It would be tough, yes, but – Étienne was like a phoenix, somehow found ways to rise again from the ashes. He’d reinvent himself if he needed to, but – Étienne hadn’t been so sure, still felt as though he hadn’t fully recovered from the original reinvention.

Edward had fallen quiet to that.

“D’you think I can come over again? For a bit. Maybe through to the New Year – I don’t know. I just – the weather’s gonna change for the worst again and – I don’t – I know how I am – in the winter – on a good year. I don’t think – I don’t trust myself going through winter alone during a pandemic.” He’d looked away from the screen after that admission. Had chewed on his bottom lip and had fisted his hands into Mercury’s fur.

Edward’s heart had broken hearing those words. He’d wished he could find a way to enter Étienne’s head and right it once and for all. Fix whatever it was that made him feel this way day in and day out. No one deserved this, least of all Étienne.

He consoled himself with the fact that Étienne was reaching out – that he was asking for help – that he wasn’t shutting himself further into his dark mood and dealing with it “on his own.” He’d seen how that ended up far too many times to want to live through it again.

“Of course – like I said, you can come here whenever you want. I want you here.” Edward felt it was best to repeat these words as often as he could, in the hopes that Étienne would stop second-guessing himself over them.

“I have work though. I have online classes, grading, and assignments to look over.” He’d said as though he was giving Edward reasons to tell him not to come and stay home in his infected hell hole.

“That’s okay. I have work as well. We’ll make a schedule and work around it. I’ll clear out a desk for you that you can use. You can have the guestroom as your own study.”

It was the logical thing to say. Whatever it was Étienne needed. It wasn’t complicated.

“Are you sure?” Étienne had finally asked.

“Of course, sweetheart. I’m always sure when it comes to you.”

It was a little sappy, but – it was all very true.

Étienne nodded at that, as if he couldn’t find the words to go with the action.

“You realise though that it’ll be cold. It gets cold here earlier than it does at yours. And I mean negative weather and snow before Halloween.”

Étienne had grimaced at that and Edward had laughed. The last thing he wanted was for Étienne to arrive in a windbreaker and then have an even worst time with the weather.

“I don’t care. Summer’s over. It’s already getting cold. I just – I need to – I need to be around people – someone. I can’t take this anymore. I can’t.”

Edward had read the panic in those green-brown eyes, had read the fear and the loneliness that threatened to swallow him whole and – Edward had needed a moment to still his own nerves. He hadn’t seen that look on Étienne’s face in far too long and it was one he’d hoped he’d never see again.

“That’s fine. When will you be arriving?”

“I don’t know – I’m still figuring out when I’ll leave. There’s still a few things I need to do here.”

“Keep me posted?” Part of him feared Étienne would do something stupid between now and then, but he consoled and reminded himself that despite everything, Étienne was in a better place now and was being treated for this. This wasn’t like before.

“Yeah. I’ll talk to you soon.”

That had been that and now here he is, summer officially done and over, waiting for Étienne to arrive. They’d spoken late last night and Edward hadn’t liked the way his boyfriend had sounded. Out of it, was one way of describing it, but – it almost felt as though – as if Étienne was giving up. As if he’d lost his last shred of hope.

He can’t let that happen.

Étienne is too important for that.

Therefore, Edward takes a deep breath, counts to ten and then twenty and finally fifty and focuses on the task at hand. With Calvin now back in Calgary as well, he figures this will give him a proper chance to do some real damage control on Étienne.

Despite everything, he still smiles and feels extremely excited when he finally spots both Étienne and Mercury making their way towards him. He sees Étienne pause and give a careful look around, but even with the masks, he can still tell that Étienne smiles when he sees him as well.

Étienne picks up his pace and walks over to him and Edward meets him half way, opening his arms up so that Étienne can step into them.

“Hi you,” He says and holds Étienne close to him. Étienne looks a little worse for wear, but if anything, his visit in April had prepared Edward for this and so the shock isn’t as big, even if the pang in his heart is just the same. He feels Mercury excitedly jump up on his leg and he marvels at how big she’s gotten since she’d last been here. He’ll greet her properly in a bit, but for now he holds onto Étienne and presses a masked kiss to the side of his face.

“Eddy,” Étienne breathes into the crook of his neck and it feels as though Étienne’s just discharged some of the weight he’d been carrying on his shoulders since he’d gone back home. As if now that he’s here, he can let go a bit and give the reigns over to Edward to help him look after himself.

It takes Edward a moment to realise that Étienne is shaking in his arms and he holds him closer still and rubs his back. “It’s okay, sweetheart, I’ve got you.” He holds him for a moment longer, holds him until Étienne stops shaking and gets a hold of himself, holds him until Étienne straightens himself out and steps out of the embrace.

“Missed you,” Étienne says as he picks the handle of his suitcase. Edward takes the moment to greet Mercury and she seems quite happy to see him as well. She still has growing to do, but she’s no longer the tiny puppy that had made the first trip out west at the start of spring.

“Missed you more. Ready to go home?”

Étienne nods and Edward laces their hands together as they make their way towards the truck.

It’s a mostly silent walk and Étienne makes one comment about the weather, which makes Edward laugh. Étienne already looks like he’s dressed for winter and by the looks of the two suitcases he brought along, his entire winter wardrobe seems to be here with him as well.

Edward takes the long walk to the truck, if only to give Mercury a chance to stretch her legs. They take off their masks after realising that they’d both kept them on out of habit and once they’re at the truck, Edward pulls Étienne for a much sought after kiss.

“Missed you,” Edward reiterates as he caresses the sides of Étienne’s face. His boyfriend offers him a kind, if tired smile and Edward still thinks he’s one of the most beautiful people he’s ever met.

“Missed you more,” Étienne parrots back, before he hugs him again. “Thanks again for – everything.”

Edward gives his hand a squeeze and then opens the door for him.

There’s hand-sanitizer in the truck they both use and Edward tries to keep the conversation going as he drives back home, but Étienne ends up falling asleep once more halfway through. He lets him, knowing Étienne never seems to get around the right amount of sleep and he lets Élyse know he’ll take good care of Étienne once they’re home.

Mercury trots off to re-explore his house and so Edward helps Étienne with his luggage, helps him to the door and helps undress him afterwards, unpeeling each layer as they make their way towards Edward’s bedroom and they reacquaint themselves with one another with kisses and touches that make Étienne feel just a little bit more alive. It’s heady and messy and needy, but the end result is the same and Edward holds Étienne close as he cards his fingers through his hair with one hand, and traces lazy patterns on his arm with the other.

Étienne seems a little more peaceful as he snuggles close and presses the occasional kiss to Edward’s chest. It’s as if – he feels safe here, in Edward’s arms and Edward hopes and wishes that he can always provide this solace for him.

“Your hair’s gotten long,” He remarks as he holds up a perfect curl. He twines it around his finger before releasing it and watches with wonder as it springs back to its original form. Étienne’s hair had already been getting long during his last visit, but now that he could see his hair in person, Edward could really tell. It keeps flirting with Étienne’s shoulder and Edward thinks it’s a good look on him.

“Yeah... never got around to booking a haircut when they reopened and then I kinda – I kinda like it actually. Thought I’d let it grow some and see what it looks like....” He’s careful with his answer, Edward can tell from the way he looks at him and then away. Étienne tucks a strand behind his ear out of reflex and Edward smiles softly.

“It looks good. It suits you.”

It really does. In all the years Edward has known him, he’s never seen Étienne with super long hair. Étienne had even been – sensitive about it and after Edward had found out why, he understood. This is a nice change, despite the reason behind it, and Edward hopes it means that if anything, Étienne is slowly making peace with that.

“Yeah, you think so?”

Edward nods. “Yeah, I really like it.”

Étienne grins, a little quiet thing as he resettles against him, “I haven’t had it super long in – over forty years. Forgot how good it looked,” He says, normal like anything and Edward silently thrills.

“It looks very good. I’m all for you experimenting with it and letting it grow.”

Étienne offers him a smile for his compliment and Edward stores it for the days where it’ll be hard to get a smile out of his boyfriend. He’d like to think there won’t be any, but with the way things are going and with winter coming up, he knows better.

“Hey, I have a surprise for you,” He says instead before they can get too comfortable. Étienne gives him a curious look and protests when Edward jostles him so that he can get out of bed and put his boxers back on. “Come on, you’ll like this.”

“Preferred the view I had moments before.” Étienne says as he slowly makes a grab for his own clothes and underwear. Edward rolls his eyes, fond, amused, and ever so endeared, and then walks his boyfriend to the guestroom.

“Jeez, Édouard, if you were already done with me, you could’ve just said and I woulda made my own exile back to the guestroom.” Étienne teases as Edward pushes the door to the guestroom until it’s fully open.

“Humour me, Curly,” Edward says and leads him further into the room. “I set everything up for you; desk, chair, light. I cleared it off so you can put your laptop on it. I moved the printer here, in case you have things to print – and, this,” He moves to the side and that’s when Étienne notices the very large and suddenly very noticeable wooden easel that had not been previously there this past spring, “Is a little something I thought you would appreciate.”

Étienne blinks and blinks again. There’s an easel – a beautiful wooden thing that he’d never ever seen before just standing there as if waiting to be used. He walks up to it, as if in a trance and dares to touch it to make sure it’s real.

“I know you like to make your own canvases and stretchers, so if you need any materials or whatever, I’ll drive you to the store.”

Étienne turns back to Edward, walks back to him and lunges into his awaiting arms, as if his boyfriend had been expecting such a reaction.

“You didn’t have to,” Étienne says as he fights back the tears that threaten to fall. It’s all too much. He doesn’t deserve all of this – doesn’t deserve Edward’s kindness and yet Edward still offers it to him as though it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“I wanted to.” Edward tells him and figures he can let him know he’d made it himself later, before Étienne has an apoplexy over it. “I want you to feel comfortable here. You’re not just a passing houseguest – you’re my boyfriend. This is the very least I can do for you.”

Étienne pulls him in for a kiss before Edward can say anything else that might make his heart jump out of his ribcage. “I love you,” He blurts out when they pull away for air. It’s the least he can do and say and he knows Edward likes hearing it. (He does too, really, but right now if Edward tells him he might just cry over everything.) (He’s still getting used to this – to having someone show him love and kindness so openly.) (There are still days when he wonders if this isn’t all some massive fever drug induced dream.) (He’s honestly glad it isn’t.)

“My dearest Étienne, I love you too, never doubt it,” Edward tells him, cups his face in his nice warm hands, and offers him the kindest of smiles. Looks at him as though he’s something precious and worthwhile and there’s something inside of Étienne – some old shriveled thing that lives where his heart once was that dares to beat again.

And Edward holds Étienne close, holds him again and then gently leads him back towards his bedroom so that they can lie together. He lets Étienne slowly come apart in his arms, rubs his back and twines their legs together and makes the silent promise that he’ll watch over Étienne and do his best so that Étienne doesn’t fall off the deep end again. He hopes and dares that despite everything, that winter will be kind to the both of them, but Edward knows that if anything, at least, they’ll be together.

FIN

#pc: montreal #pc: edmonton #mercury the dog #projocanondoko #fic

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rosiethots · 4 years

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the count of monte cristo inspired reddie !! please just imagine:

young richie with the rest of the losers, living happily with his friends, cracking jokes. sure he’d get an eye roll or a punch on the arm for some of them but that just made it funnier.

even if no one generally took him seriously, that was okay. he didn’t care for serious.

which is why it got harder for him to be around bill. bill who was way too old for his age. they clashed often, and who could ever forget the summer fight of ‘89?

the rest of the losers had sort of an unspoken agreement to keep bill and richie as far apart as possible ever since then. but sometimes it wasn’t enough.

sometimes richie joked too much. he was too immature. he didn’t know anything about the real world and it’s cruelties.

bill had glared at richie as he was tugged away by mike and bev. richie could hear ben saying to bill,

“don’t be so mean, he’s a nice enough guy.”

nice enough guy, richie scoffed as he stormed away.

he’s alright

an okay kid

kinda annoying

probably won’t make it far

he’s heard it all. from his parents, to his teachers.

he hadn’t realized someone had followed him out of bill’s basement until there came a flick to his arm. the glare he sent to his attacker had no effect at all seeing as it was eddie and all the smaller did was laugh.

“i come in peace.” eddie threw his hands up in surrender.

richie wanted to soften. he was mad at bill, not eddie. but for some reason the line on his forehead wouldn’t disappear.

the world was moving and before he could process the blurred images, he found himself sitting in the grass in bill’s backyard. eddie’s small hands still wrapped around his arm from where he pulled him.

“bill didn’t me-“

“yes he did.” richie was fucking tired. he didn’t meant this, she didn’t mean that.

if they didn’t mean it why’d they fucking say it?

“okay yeah he did. but he wasn’t right.”

richie spared a glance at eddie’s face only to be greeted with wide brown eyes shining with determination and.. something else. richie took note that eddie’s hands still rested on his bicep.

“look, i’m probably the last person you wanna hear this from but, i think you’re great.” eddie admitted softly. “sometimes your jokes are lame, but i’d deal with a day of bad jokes if it meant hanging out with you.”

richie felt his bottom lip wobble but he swallowed the feeling down.

“edward kaspbrak, are you in love with me?”

eddie burned a bright red, snatching his hands from richie’s arm before delivering a tiny punch.

“i’m trying to have a nice moment, jackass.”

richie cackled and threw his hands up in mock surrender before gathering eddie’s squirming form into his arms.

“listen if you wanna go on a date with me all you have to do is ask.”

“in your dreams” eddie grumbled, breaking free from richie’s hug before straightening out his now crumpled shirt. richie chuckled softly as he watched the smaller’s face.

“thank you, eddie. sorry for being a dick. bill just makes me so fucking mad sometimes. like yeah i get it, georgie’s gone, it’s sad. i’m not happy it happened, no one is. but that doesn’t mean the people around you can’t try to move on? enjoy their pathetic lives? make the most out of nothing?”

eddie was quiet for a moment and richie worried it meant he was upset with his confession. he wouldn’t take what he said back, because he knows he’s right. bill has every right to mourn and grieve. but lashing out of people for no fucking reason wont get you far.

a small warm hand rested on richie’s shoulder. richie turned his attention to the owner of said hand.

“for what it’s worth, ever since i’ve met you, i’ve enjoyed life a lot more.”

richie nearly choked on his own breath.

“it’s so fucking sappy i know but i mean it. and you know something? i believe, out of all of us, you’re going to go the farthest. really make something of yourself. i just know it. you’re too amazing not to.”

richie felt his eyes burning but honestly he didn’t care. he was too busy throwing his arms around eddie to care.

more importantly, he was too focused on eddie hugging him back to care.

richie sniffled softly from where his face was buried in eddie’s shoulder.

“i promise you i’ll make something of myself. i’ll get all the way to the top of the world. i’ll even make Bill my servant.”

eddie giggled, albeit muffled since he was pressed against richie’s chest.

“promise you’ll remember me when you’re at the top?”

richie pulled away from the hug, both hands holding onto eddie’s shoulders as he looked the smaller in the eye.

“i’m going to take you to the top with me. you’ll never leave my side. like my lil pocket companion.”

eddie swatted at richie playfully, a bashful smile on his face.

“you promise?”

“fuck yes i promise!” richie exclaimed before digging his hands through his pockets. eddie watched him with a single quirked eyebrow in curiosity. richie huffed as he pulled his hands out empty before zoning in on the frayed part of his shirt. there were several loose strings but there was one particular thread that was longer than the others.

without hesitation, richie reached down and yanked the thread. he ignored eddie’s cries of “be careful richie don’t tear your shirt!” to grab eddie’s left hand and rest it on his knee.

with careful movements, richie tied the thread around eddie’s ring finger before holding his hand up to show eddie his work.

“here. my promise to you, that i’ll take you with me. wherever i go.”

eddie smiled richie’s favorite kind of smile. that one smile where his eyes disappear and his cheeks bunch up.

“i’ll never take it off.”

in that moment, richie feels an urge but he can’t quite put a name to it. but he knows it gets stronger when he looks down at eddie’s lips.

but of course life is cruel.

fast forward a few weeks and richie is coming home to police cars in his drive way. immediately thinking the worse, someone has died, he darts into the house.

his mother is crying as the sheriff squares his shoulders and approaches her son.

“mr. tozier, is it true you attacked bill denbrough?”

richie has no fucking idea where this is coming from. he hasn’t seen bill all day. not to mention, he hadn’t seen the fucker all week.

“no it’s not true. why would i?”

“there’s been reports of you two having previous altercations.”

“well yeah, he’s a dick-“

“richard!” richie flinched at the harsh sharp tone of his father.

“if you don’t mind, i’d like to take you down to the station. for just a few more questions.”

that’s only the beginning. word travels fast in a small toxic town like derry. everyone heard of the tozier boy with a violent nature. even if richie screams it isn’t true.

he sees bill one day, just passing by in school. and richie is honestly surprised by the condition bill’s face is in. someone sure went to town on him. richie normally would be concerned, except for the fact that everyone thinks it’s his fault.

the scrutiny gets so bad that the toziers are practically forced out of town. but at that point richie couldn’t bring himself to care. all he can think about was the last time he would lay eyes on eddie.

the small boy would lock eyes with him in the hallway and make a bee line for him. richie wants to cry because it’s the first time someone isn’t looking at him like he’s a monster.

they’ve almost reached each other when stan plows his way through and crowd to drag a protesting eddie away. richie has half a mind to chase them down but he feels prying eyes on him everywhere.

every move he makes is examined thoroughly out of “the safety of others”. or whatever bullshit. so he watches as eddie is hauled away from richie. and that would be the last image he would have of the small boy.

fast forward 25 years and richie finds himself standing in front of the restaurant.

he isn’t the same richie the rest knew all those years ago.

he made a name for himself.

trashmouth.

it was nearly a household name at this point. he had a faithful fan base following him, a full bank account, and even a solid show on a mainstream channel in the works.

but even with all of that, there were still some loose ends keeping him up at nights.

quickly he found out that he remembered a lot more about the past than the others did, besides mike.

even bill didn’t remember him.

but richie sure as hell remembered. he never let himself forget.

he almost loses himself when he sees eddie, however. even moreso when it’s announced that eddie has since gotten married.

richie finds out why he was falsely accused of bill’s attack. turns out victor, as revenge for henry, planned on seeking out each loser. bill had been the first. victor had broken bill’s nose, collarbone, and one of his ribs. while victor had done his damage, bill manage to wrestle him to the edge of the quarry’s cliff, shoving him off. unfortunately, during winter time in derry, it was cold enough for the lake to freeze over multiple times.

bill had panicked. what would he tell everyone?

richie simply nodded, a calm smile over his lips as bill recalled the story. he’ll take care of that later.

fast forward a bit more, pennywise is successfully laid to rest. eddie narrowly avoids being impales due to richie shoving him out of the way.

a celebration is had down by the quarry and that’s where richie sees it. a piece of thread peeking out from under eddie’s wedding band.

richie corners eddie and forces the ring off of his finger so he could see. eddie lets him.

“i forgot why i had it on, but part of me knew to never take it off. so i never did. but now i know.” eddie cups richie’s face with his free hand.

anyways eddie divorces myra and marries richie. richie gets him a new ring, which eddie wears, but he keeps the thread on as well.

#reddie #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #reddie imagine #the count of monte cristo #this was much longer than originally intended #it was supposed to be short #i swear #not fully count of monte cristo #just inspired

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brittle-bone-gabe · 4 years

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Mistletozier

Summary: For years Richie has been trying to get Eddie under the mistletoe, each time it was a failure. Pairing: Eddie x Reddie (Reddie) Read Ao3: Here

1989

“Eddie, Eddie!” Richie called as he climbed down into the Loser’s clubhouse. The rest of the Losers were busy today, running around shopping, having to stay home alone and weren’t allowed to leave the house, so Eddie was the only one that Richie could bother. “Eddie!” He called again, standing at the bottom of the ladder, watching the smaller boy sit on the hammock. He had a shower cap over his head to make sure no spiders fell on him and his winter coat still on, reading the assigned homework they were given for holiday break. “You’re seriously reading that?” Richie asked, walking over to him.

“Unfortunately,” Eddie replied, his eyes skimming the page he was on, “I need to get a good grade or I’ll fail and then my mom will have a fucking stroke or something.”

“Hopefully...” Richie mumbled.

Eddie’s head shot up, glaring at him. “Richie!”

“What?! You can’t tell me you like being bossed around all the time.”

“She’s my mom, dipshit.”

“Oh, excuse me, I thought she was your mommy.” Richie yelped when Eddie threw his book at him, having barely enough time to cover his face with his arms before the book made contact with him. “Don’t be that way, Eddie Spaghetti,” he said as he tried to squeeze his way into the hammock, but Eddie was making it difficult. “I’m trying to call a truce here, Spaghetti!”

“Then stop calling me spaghetti!” Eddie said, trying to kick the taller boy out of the hammock. “I was here first!”

“Wait!” Richie grabbed Eddie’s ankles to stop him from kicking at him, “I have a question for you.”

Eddie narrowed his eyes, knowing that it had to be a joke. Richie just didn’t say ‘I have a question’ and actually asked a question. He knew it would be something like... ‘Oh, has your mom said anything about me?’ ‘Do you think you’ll hit 5′5″ before you turn thirty?’ Either way it pissed Eddie off and was ready to fight him.

“What.” It wasn’t a question, Eddie really didn’t want to know what the question Richie had for him was. He watched as Richie fished through his front pocket, trying to find the thing he brought with him down in the club house. Eddie flinched when he pulled his hand back out of his pocket, assuming it was going to be a middle finger. “What the fuck is that?” He finally asked, tilting his head to the side at the small plant looking thing Richie was now holding; it was slightly flattened from being in his pocket, it had a small red bow attached to the top with some fake looking berries plastered on it.

“What’s wrong, Eds? Never heard of a mistletoe?”

“A... what?”

Richie wasn’t sure if Eddie was being serious or actually never heard of a mistletoe before, but either way... he was in love with an idiot. He dangled the small, plastic plant over his head, looking up at it as if he had no idea why it was there. Did he really want to go through with this? Did he want to tell Eddie what the mistletoe was and what the tradition was behind it? Richie had this whole thing planned out; he was going to surprise Eddie by hanging the small plant above the hammock before the smaller boy showed up, and when Richie ‘noticed’ it, he was going to point it out and kiss Eddie before he knew what was happening. Although, he wasn’t expecting that Eddie would make it here before him, the idiot left his bike propped up against the tree.

“A mistletoe!” Richie tried again, holding it out so it was hovering over him and Eddie, who looked up at it. “You know what it is?”

“Uh... no? Wait, is that a flower?”

“What? No. It’s a-”

“A plant? Is that a plant?”

“Well, yeah, but-”

“I have a plant allergy, Richie!” Eddie shot up from the hammock, almost knocking Richie out of it as he did. “Ever heard of allergic rhinitis?!”

“Wh... no?”

“Hay fever? You’ve heard of that?”

“Isn’t that just seasonal- Eddie! It’s not real! It’s plastic, fake!”

“Yeah, it’s seasonal allergies, idiot. But did you know you can get that shit in the winter too?” Richie sat back in the hammock, dropping the mistletoe on his chest while watching Eddie rant about allergies. Great. This plan wasn’t working out well, he wasn’t trying to rile him up, but here they were. “Most of the time seasonal allergies is caused by a grass and pollen allergy, but in the winter it’s mostly due to dust mites. Do you know what dust mites are, Richie?” Richie could only nod, using his foot to rock the hammock. “They-”

“It’s not real, Eddie,” he tried again, interrupting Eddie’s ramblings, “th-the plant, not... whatever it is you’re talking about.”

“You say it’s not real, but how do I know you’re not lying to me?” Eddie asked, folding his arms across his chest with a small pout.

“Why would I purposely trigger your allergies? It’s just a-”

Eddie scoffed, throwing his hands up in frustration before zipping up his winter coat. He grabbed his book, turning to face Richie who gave him a weird look, like he was stupid or something.

“Whatever that is I don’t want it,” he finally said, walking over to the ladder. “I’m gonna go home and take some allergy pills before they get worse.”

Richie watched Eddie go up the wooden ladder, his mouth opened as he wanted to say something to try and stop him. It was too late. Eddie was already heading out to the snowy outside, leaving Richie with many things to say, none of which would ever get spoken. God, why were the cute ones so stupid? Richie sighed, fidgeting with the mistletoe that was now in his hands.

Maybe someday.

-----

1993

This was the final Friday for the students at Derry High School before holiday break began. Everyone was excited for their two week vacation, ready for presents, laying in bed doing nothing all day, food, and spending time with family. Well, everyone was excited except for seventeen-year-old Richie Tozier; when he learned that Eddie was going to be gone for those two weeks starting tomorrow he was extremely upset. Something about seeing family. Either way, Richie was still upset, there was something he wanted to try to do before he left, hopefully this year it would work.

“How do I look?” Richie asked his best friend Beverly as he put on the headband with a mistletoe hanging above him. “Stupid, right? I want it to look stupid.” Bev leaned over, planting a kiss on Richie’s cheek as for tradition. “Eugh!” Richie said dramatically, wiping his cheek with the back of his hand. “Cooties.”

Beverly rolled her eyes. “Yes, you look extremely stupid, Trashmouth.” Richie had a goofy smile on his face, giving two thumbs up. “I’m sure Eddie’ll get it this time.”

The memory made Richie shudder. He remembered he told Beverly all about how his first time trying this worked out, that Eddie had no idea what a mistletoe was and freaked out about hay fever and left him behind. Hopefully now that Eddie was older he would get it this time, or maybe he’d be awkward enough and ditch again. Which is what Richie swore up and down what happened last time, there was no way someone has never heard of a mistletoe, right? Right. Okay, Bev was right, he got it this time. It was going to be cute and give something for Eddie to remember while he was gone with family this Christmas.

“And how do I look?” Richie pushed his semi-curly hair back, readjusting his glasses to make sure everything looked right.

Bev licked her hand, scrubbing the speck of dirt that was stuck on Richie’s cheek. “Golden. Go get ‘em.” She patted his back with a smile on her face as he started off towards Eddie’s locker. She watched him squeeze through the crowd of the hallway, shaking her head. Honestly she couldn’t believe that Richie and Eddie weren’t together yet.

Richie was tall enough to be able to see over most of the crowd, his blank expression changed into a huge smile when he saw Eddie searching through his locker. Yes, okay, perfect. This would be his year. He would get Eddie to kiss him over this stupid tradition, he swore to god. Even if he had to bluntly spell it out for him. K-I-S-S M-E, Y-O-U I-D-I-O-T.

Eddie had his backpack on the floor as he was moving the textbook from the morning periods to his locker, switching them out with the afternoon periods textbooks. He used to carry them all at once so he didn’t have that anxiety of rushing to go to his locker, but since he went through two backpacks in the year he had to stop doing that because his mom was getting mad about buying him new ones. Of course, she blamed Richie for roughhousing with him, causing the backpacks to break. No... it was just because Eddie didn’t want to make an extra stop at his locker.

“Helllooo, Eddie!” Richie said long and dramatically, pulling the locker door open some more so he could stand in front of it, leaning it up against the other lockers with his shoulder.

“Hey, Richie,” Eddie said, not even looking at him as he was putting books from his backpack to his locker, “what’s up?”

“Ooooh, nootthiiin’” He reached up, poking at the mistletoe that was dangling down over him, the little bells jingling as he did, trying to get Eddie’s attention, but he wasn’t budging. Richie frowned. “Eddie. Eds. Eddie, my love.” Normally that last one caught his attention. “Bitch, pay attention to me!”

Finally Eddie looked up at him, finally noticing the mistletoe above them. “Oh,” he said, standing up, rolled his hoodie sleeves up so they were above his forearms. “Mistletoe. Whose that for, Richie?”

Richie discreetly bit his bottom lip, trying to get the hint across. Notice, you idiot, notice, Richie was thinking to himself. Maybe out of the blue Eddie would gain the power to read minds and kiss him.

“I dunno,” Richie said, trying to sound smooth, “whoever’s under it I guess. That’s how mistletoe’s work, right?”

“Huh...” Eddie reached up, jingling the fake plant. “That’s actually really cute. Did you know if you were you to eat mistletoe it could technically kill you? It can poison you.”

Richie wanted to strangle the hell out of the shorter boy in front of him for being so oblivious. Why was he being like this? Did he not get it? Was he just nervous about this? Oh, shit, maybe Eddie wasn’t gay or bisexual or anything and Richie was making him uncomfortable.

“Oh... yeah...” Richie was trying so hard to not sound disappointed as he took off the headband. “Yeah, I found it at the pharmacy.” He put it on Eddie’s head so it was hanging over his face now. “You know what a mistletoe is, right? Like, what the tradition is?”

Eddie’s face turned a light shade of pink that Richie could see clearly under the bright lights of the hallway. With shaky, anxious hands, he reached up and took the headband off from his head, holding it back out to Richie who sadly took it. Of course he knew the tradition was. Well, back then he didn’t, the first time Richie tried pulling this stunt Eddie had no clue what was going on until he went home to ask his mom what a mistletoe was. He would never forget the look on her face when he went on to explain that Richie had one and held it over them in the hammock that day, she was looked stunned and confused, acting different around Richie since. They both noticed, and Eddie would always apologize, but Richie couldn’t care less about that.

“Yeah... Yeah, I...” Eddie trailed off, looking into Richie’s eyes, seeing the desperation and sadness there, “I think I know the tradition.” He moved his backpack from the floor, slinging it over his shoulders before nudging Richie out of the way so he could close his locker. He had opened his mouth to speak, but the warning bell indicating that it was almost time to start the first afternoon class interrupted him. “I gotta go, Richie,” he squeaked, making himself small as he moved past Richie, he couldn’t bear to see the sadness that now took over Richie’s face.

Richie let out a frustrated sigh, twisting the mistletoe headband in his hands until he could feel it crack under the pressure. Goddamn it. Fuck. This was the second time Eddie’s dodged the fucking mistletoe and Richie’s heart was, as cliche as it sounded, broken.

As Eddie was maneuvering through the crowded hallway of rushing teens trying to make it to their class on time. Of course he fucking knew what the mistletoe meant. Whoever stood under it meant that they had to kiss. Something Eddie always wanted to fucking do. He’ll admit, he had no idea what it meant the first time Richie pulled that shit when they were fourteen-years-old, but once he found out he kicked himself for not knowing and taking advantage of that. And today? What the fuck was that? Admittedly, Eddie was caught off guard with Richie’s stupid headband, but he had the chance to kiss him again.

‘Do you know the tradition?’

‘Of course I know the tradition, but I can’t kiss you if the mistletoe is on my head, we both have to be under it,’ Eddie wanted to say at that moment. He smacked his forehead in frustration, why didn’t he speak up?

-----

2019

Richie and Eddie have been dating for a total of three years. Ever since the whole being called back to Derry, Maine after all these years, all these memories flooded back and made Richie break down. He remembered all those nights where he would sneak out of his house in the middle of the night and go to Eddie’s house, climbing through his window and they would stay up all night just to talk about whatever. He remembered carving their initials in the Kissing Bridge, hoping that it would somehow magically bring them together. It wasn’t until it started snowing in Chicago this year when Richie remembered all those sad attempts at trying to use a mistletoe to get Eddie to kiss him for the first time. He cringed, at the same time he thought it was cute.

This would be the year, Richie thought to himself as he set the plastic bag of Christmas decorations down on the kitchen counter that Eddie had sent him out to buy. I’m gonna get it to work this time, he thought as he pulled out the mistletoe from the bag, the one thing that wasn’t on Eddie’s list. He would get a kiss out of this mistletoe or die trying.

Richie started running around the house, trying to decide the perfect place to place the mistletoe. Doorway? Cliche. Front door? Too cold as it was too snowy outside. Thankfully Eddie was out right now, but Richie just received a text from him saying that he was on his way home. Fuck. He didn’t have a lot of time left.

Richie looked up. Oh. Perfect.

He stood up on the coffee table that was placed in the center of the living room, having to stand on his toes as he was reaching up to place the mistletoe in the perfect spot. He could just barely reach, but... fuck, he may need tape for it to stick. Did they have tape? Somewhere, right? Eddie’s been wrapping presents like a madman lately.

Once he jumped down from the table he scrambled into the guest bedroom that Eddie was using to wrap presents. Moving things around until it was all on the floor desperately looking for tape. How could he not have tape? This was bullshit.

Oh... that’s why Eddie went to the store. He said he ran out of tape and wrapping paper.

Back out to the kitchen, Richie started going through the junk drawer that they could hardly open since they had so much junk in it. There had to be something in here that would make this stupid piece of plastic stick for five minutes.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Richie mumbled in between the mistletoe that was placed in between his teeth as he was going through the drawer. “C’mon... this shouldn’t be so fucking hard. ...Aha!” He announced happily, even though he was the only one at home. When he turned around he saw their tan Pomeranian looking up at him, his tongue hanging out as he was wagging his tail. “What the fuck are you looking at, you little bitch? ” Richie asked the dog playfully before reaching down to give him a pet. “Such a good boy,” he knelt down to pet him some more. “Such a-” the dog snatched the mistletoe out of Richie’s mouth, running off with it. “Hey! No! Bad boy!” Richie yelled after the small dog. “Peanuts! No! Drop it!”

If anyone was looking from the outside looking in saw this six-foot-something man chasing around this small Pomeranian it would be the perfect skit. Unfortunately, this was a pain in the ass for Richie, all he wanted to do was surprise Eddie and finally get that stupid holiday kiss he wanted since they were kids. Was that really so hard?

“Peanuts! Down! Want a treat?” He was trying anything and everything he could to get the dog to stop and drop the mistletoe. Thank god it was fake, Richie recalled that Eddie said something about if you ate a real mistletoe you’d get poisoned and die. If anything happened to this dog Eddie would kill everyone. “Treat, treat, treat!” Richie said in a high pitched voice, trying to get his attention as he held up the dog treat.

Peanuts stopped, looking up at the treat in Richie’s hand, still holding onto the plastic plant as he was wagging his tail.

“Yeaaah, this has your attention, huh?” Richie said, waving his arm slowly side to side, watching as Peanut followed his every move. “Sit!” Peanuts did what he was told, plopping down as soon as the word left Richie’s mouth. “Now... drop it!” Peanuts tilted his head to the side, not quite understanding what he was supposed to do. ‘Drooop iiit...” He growled out of frustration, just wanting the damn treat. Richie held the treat out so it was directly in front of Peanuts’ nose. The small, fluffy dog dropped the mistletoe, snatching the treat from Richie’s hand as he went into their bedroom to eat it underneath his bed, as he did whenever he got a treat.

Richie let out a thankful sigh, picking up the mistletoe that was now covered in dog slobber. Oh well. Whatever, he got what he wanted. He grabbed the hot glue gun from the counter, going back to stand on the coffee table.

As soon as he was finishing up gluing the mistletoe to the smoke detector Richie could hear Eddie’s car door slam shut in the driveway. Oh, fuck. He cut this too close. Richie started blowing on the glue, hoping it’ll make it stick in place just for five minutes. Once it seemed stabled, he hopped down, pushing the coffee table back into place just as Eddie walked through the door.

Sweat was covering Richie’s forehead as he stood directly underneath the mistletoe that was up too high for Eddie to even notice, refusing to move from his spot in front of the couch. Eddie raised an eyebrow, knowing instantly that something was up with his boyfriend.

“What’cha doin’?” Eddie asked instantly, dropping the bags down at his feet.

“N..nothing,” Richie responded with a goofy smile on his face. “What’re yooou doin’, hot stuff? How was the store? See any babes?”

Judging by how Richie was acting, Eddie knew that he was up to something. A prank? A date? He could never tell with Richie, he was always mixing it up.

“What did you do?” Was the only thing that came to Eddie’s mind to ask. “Where’s Peanuts?”

“Ah...” Richie started to explain, but had to stop to catch his breath, “the little devil is contained with a treat and nothing else. Nothing... that could poison him. I assure you, my sweet, sweet, Spaghetti, I did nothing wrong.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide. “What?!”

“He’s fine! He has a treat!”

“Don’t... call me spaghetti!”

“Sorry, Eddsie.”

“Oh, that’s new...” Eddie folded his arms over his chest. “What are you hiding?”

“Why don’tcha come here and I’ll tell you.”

Eddie noticed that Richie hasn’t moved a muscle since he entered the doorway, out of character for him for sure since any time he entered the house Richie was there to hug him and kiss him.

“No.”

“What? Eddie, come here!”

“No, not until you tell me what you did.”

“Just!” Richie stopped, whining in frustration. “Come here! I’ll tell you! Please! Please, please, please, please, please, please, please, plea-”

“Shut up! Okay!” Eddie kicked off his snow covered shoes onto the rug, shrugging off his winter coat before making his way over to Richie cautiously just in case this was a prank of some kind. “You talk so fucking much, you idiot.” He stopped about a foot away from Richie, who looked to still be in distress. “What? I’m here.”

“Clooooser!”

“I am not getting any closer until you tell me what you’re up to.”

“I’ll tell you!” Richie held out his arms to him, wiggling his fingers. “Come here!” He couldn’t help but giggle, causing Eddie to raise an eyebrow before taking a step back. “Uh, wrong way, my sweet Eds. C’mere.”

“You did something.”

“I did do something,” the smile somehow grew on Richie’s face if that was even possible. “I won’t- No, I can’t tell you until you come stand.. right...” he pointed to the open area directly in front of him, “here. I know you’re curious. Or... maybe afraid? Just know I am not hiding anything from you this time.”

“Like how you hid the fact you killed my favorite plant while I was away for a week?”

“Mhm!” Richie hummed happily, nodding. “Better than that!”

Eddie scoffed, rolling his eyes as he stood where Richie had directed him to. He had to look up at the taller man at this point to look into his eyes. When he did, he noticed the mistletoe that was hanging from the smoke detector.

“Are you fucking serious?” Eddie said, looking back down to look at Richie.

“Third times the charm, right?” Richie asked with a single arm shrug.

“But the smoke detector? Seriously? Do you know how dangerous that is, Richie? Say there was a fire, the smoke may not make it up there properly because of the-”

Eddie was cut off when Richie bent down, pressing his lips against Eddie’s cold ones from being out in that Chicago winter. He had both hands on Eddie’s hips, bringing him closer until their bodies were basically pressed against each other, sharing body heat. Eddie wrapped his arms around Richie’s neck to bring him down closer, deepening the kiss as best as he could from where he was standing.

“I want that off of the smoke detector,” Eddie mumbled against Richie’s lips.

“Mmm... may have trouble with that,” he responded once he pulled away, “I super glued it. Mistletoe tradition all year ‘round, baby!” He pumped his fist in the air.

Eddie reached down, grabbing the empty wrapping paper tube that Peanuts was trying to drag around earlier, bonking it against Richie’s face, his glasses almost falling off.

“Beep beep, Richie.”

28 notes · View notes

appleoctopie · 4 years

Text

Winter Challenge | Day 7

Prompt: sledding Fandom: IT - Stephen King Pairing: Reddie Sum: Richie and Eddie go sledding.

Notes: I really hadn’t been planning to write so much reddie for this challenge, but it would seem I’m a tad obsessed.

AO3

Richie was running so fast that he nearly slid the rest of the way down the slope of the Barrens. He looked around wildly for any sign of the rest of the Losers club, zeroing on the tracks in the snow leading further into the trees. Towards the clubhouse.

He skidded to a stop at the door, wrenching it open and practically throwing himself down the ladder. A pile of snow came with him, earning a yelp from Stan who’d been sitting too close to the entrance. He quickly scrambled backwards, wrapping his scarf tight around himself as he went.

“What the hell, Richie?”

Richie looked around the room, taking in the faces staring back. Ben and Bev were curled in a corner together, Bev’s lips were curled with amusement and Ben looked startled. Stan scowled up at him and in the hammock …

“Eddie Spaghetti! Just the man I was looking for!”

Eddie finally looked up from the comic he was reading, a frown tugging at his mouth. “What do you want, Richie?” He tried to sound annoyed, but Richie had spent years studying every part of Eddie, and he didn’t miss the way those chocolate eyes seemed to glow a little brighter.

“It snowed.”

Eddie’s brow furrowed in that cute way of his and he looked at Stan in confusion, Stan just shook his head and returned to the book he was reading, inching further from the still open door and the cold air that had started to fill the clubhouse.

“If you’re staying close the door,” Ben said with a huff, although he didn’t look too annoyed either. Bev had curled closer to him to hide from the chill and he had one of his arms wrapped around her shoulders, his cheeks turning pink with his blush.

“I won’t be long,” he promised, turning his attention back to Eddie. “Just came to grab something.”

That something was Eddie.

He wrapped a hand around Eddie’s wrist and tugged until Eddie came spilling out of the hammock. He tried to leap to his feet, but he’d wrapped himself into a burrito and the blanket tangled between his leg and instead of angrily facing off against Richie he ended up falling face first into his chest.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Eddie’s voice cracked and Richie grinned, wanting so badly to close the distance between them and give him a kiss.

He’d thought that as they got older his crush would be easier to manage, but somehow Eddie just got cuter as he grew.

“We’re going sledding.”

Eddie’s angry scowl was replaced by shock, clearly not expecting that answer.

“What?”

“C’mon.”

Richie tugged him to the ladder and pushed him up, pulling the blanket away from his legs as he went. Eddie complained the entire way up, but he went, which was a pleasant surprise. Richie had been prepared to fight more, he’d even pre-thought up his arguments.

“Close the door behind you!” Ben called after them, and Richie chuckled as he did just that.

Eddie was standing a few feet away from the clubhouse, his arms wrapped tight around his sides, and Richie took a moment to just look at him. His hair had grown out since the last time he’d gotten it cut and it was beginning to curl around his ears, his cheeks were flushed from the cold, and he’d wrapped a squishy purple scarf around his mouth.

He glanced at Richie and arched a brow. “Are we going sledding or what?”

Richie shook his head and bounded forward a few steps, throwing an arm around Eddie’s shoulders. “Of course we are, Eds. I was just surprised you agreed so quickly.”

Eddie shrugged under Richie’s arm, but he didn’t try to move away. “I was bored,” he muttered, pulling the scarf higher up his face.

Richie laughed and lead Eddie through the trees and back to the road where he’d left his sled parked. He kept one arm around Eddie, using his free hand to tug the sled behind them.

When they made it to the top of the hill Richie finally let go of Eddie, settling himself onto the sled and patting the spot in front of him.

“No way.” Eddie shook his head, taking a small step back. “I’ll wait.”

“Nuh-uh, Eddie Spaghetti. We go together.” He patted the sled again, making his smile as bright and inviting as he could.

Eddie stared for a moment before huffing and settling in front. Richie’s smile dimmed and he slid his arms tight around his waist.

“We’re too old for this,” Eddie grumbled, but he snuggled back in Richie’s arms. And Richie did his best to not notice the warmth pressing against his front, or the way Eddie fit so nicely in his arms.

“We’re never too old for fun!”

Whatever Eddie might have said in response was lost to the wind as Richie pushed off the ground. Eddie shrieked and Richie laughed, the sounds ripped from their throats as the sled picked up speed. This was the best hill for sledding, no cars dared to drive it in the snow, meaning they had a clear stretch all the way to the bottom.

Eddie’s hands closed around Richie’s wrists squeezing so tight that he felt his bones creak. Richie laughed into Eddie’s neck, and too soon the sled came to a slow stop. Eddie squirmed in his arms and Richie had to scoot his butt back before he realized just what that squirming did to him.

“See, fun.”

Eddie was breathing a tad too fast, but he was smiling bright. Richie loved that smile. He would do anything to keep it on his face.

“Okay, yeah that was fun.”

He looked over his shoulder, his eyes glittering.

“Wanna go again?”

Richie laughed, hopping off the sled and offering a hand to Eddie. Together they sprinted up the hill, just to speed right back down it a moment later. They did it three more times before they both collapsed to the snow, exhausted and laughing.

Richie reached across the distance between them to grab Eddie’s hand, bringing the gloved hand to his mouth for a small kiss.

“I love you, Eddie Spaghetti,” he said with a laugh, and he could pretend that Eddie’s cheeks looked a little flushed from the words and not just the cold.

“Beep beep, Trashmouth,” Eddie said, but he was laughing too.

They stayed there in the snow, hands clasped together, until the cold got to be unbearable. Then they returned to the clubhouse. The hammock was too small for both of them, but they made it work.

Richie smiled into Eddie’s hair as they cuddled in the blanket burrito, Eddie’s body once again flush against his.

“Today was a good day,” he said to no one in particular, earning a quiet hum from the sleepy body beside him.

“It was fun,” Eddie agreed, biting back a yawn and snuggling closer. “But cold.”

“Don’t worry, Eddie my love, I’ll keep you warm.” He laughed when Stan made a gagging noise from his corner, lifting his head just enough to peer at his friend in the darkness. “There’s plenty of room for a third in here, Stan my boy!”

Stan stuck his tongue out and Richie chuckled, resting his cheek against the top of Eddie’s head. Eddie’s breathing had evened out with sleep, and in the dark of the clubhouse Richie found himself unable to stop from brushing a quick kiss over his temple.

It had been a perfect day.

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #it #stephen king #i've given up all pretense of effort #just wrote it and quickly posted it #who has time to edit

19 notes · View notes

byeleriscanon · 7 years

Text

Don’t Let Them Win(Stenbrough fic, ft. Reddie)

Hey, so my last (first ever fic), Now and Forever, has about 48 notes right now, which is 48 more than I expected it to get and I cannot thank you all enough for tolerating my writing. In any case, I figured, like any good addict, why not do it again? I posted this yesterday as Don’t Dream It’s Over, but took it down to rework it and edit it a bit. Here it is in finality. I was inspired by the fact that it was snowing outside when I wrote this, and also (kind-of) the snow-ball scene in ST2. Really I just love winter dances and am bitter that I never got one. I also borrowed lyrics from Crowded House’s Don’t Dream It’s Over. I hope you all enjoy it and, as always, I would LOVE to hear some feedback or constructive criticism. There’s only one way to get better, right?

Summary: Stan, after some pushing from his friends, decides that he’s going to ask Bill to the Winter Dance in their freshman year of high school. Will he finally get the date he’s always wanted?

“Well, are you going to do it?” Richie asked as he, Eddie and Stan meandered down the sidewalks of Derry, snow crunching under their feet.

“I don’t know,” Stan replied, a long sigh escaping his mouth. “I know I told you guys that I would, but I just, I don’t know. He’s going to say no anyway,” he lamented.

“Well I mean you don’t know that for sure,” Eddie said from beside Richie, their gloved hands clasping one another. “I used to think Richie didn’t like me, but then I made him cry in my bedroom and now we’re dating!” He laughed.

“Aww Eds, stop telling people that you’re going to ruin my manly reputation!” Richie fake-pouted.

“If you call me Eds one more fucking time you are going to be single,” Eddie tried to sound angry, but his smile gave him away. “My point was, that you never know Stan. Besides, Bill spends every second he can around you I think he likes you back,”

“Eds I literally called you cute on a regular basis and you thought I didn’t like you,” Richie said

“You’re not helping trashmouth! And don’t fucking call me Eds!” Eddie retorted. Stan let them bicker and instead turned towards his own thoughts.

Stan had told Richie and Eddie about his crush on Bill after the two of them had come out, earlier this year, just before they started their first year of high school. And then he had slowly told the rest of the losers, except for Bill of course. Richie and Eddie, with Beverly’s help, had since been trying to convince Stan to ask Bill out, and now to ask him to the Winter Dance on the upcoming weekend. Just thinking about Bill caused colour to rise into Stan’s cheeks, and a ghost of a smile to dance across his face.

“I think you’re right,” He said at length, interrupting Richie and Eddie mid argument. “I’ll ask him tomorrow at school.” Already he could feel the nervous butterflies dancing around within him.

“Well of course I’m right,” Richie grinned, “I’m always right! It’s one of my many gifts!”

“Oh, give me a break,” Eddie said, rolling his large brown eyes.

…

When Stan returned home, all he could think about was what he was going to say to Bill. The nervous energy had been building up all through the night and stayed with him in the morning.

Stan pulled up to the bike rack outside of the school the next day and chained his bike to it, his fingers stinging even through his knitted gloves at the touch of the cold metal. Beverly pulled up right beside him, smiling, her red hair even redder against the snowy white backdrop. Ben stood beside her, as always.

“Richie told us. Today’s the day!” she beamed. “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Stan replied, a nervous rock forming in the bottom of his stomach.

“Stan, it’s going to be so great! Just don’t cry,” Ben joked.

“We have to go help Mike finish his math in the library, but good luck!” Beverly said. She and Ben turned and headed into the brick school, excitedly chattering to one another. Stan took another nervous breath, which hitched in his throat as he caught sight of Bill, who pulled up beside him on his own bike.

“H-hey Stan,” Bill stuttered as he chained his own bike next to Stan’s. “How’s it g-g-going?” His emerald eyes flashed as he greeted his best friend, and Stan couldn’t help but begin to lose himself in their verdant splendour.

“What? Oh, uh, good,” Stan said nervously, a week smile trying to form on his face. He could feel a rush of panic and nervousness surge within him, and his cheeks began to redden. “I have to get to class, but I kind of need to talk to you. Can you stick around after school?” he said hurriedly.

“Oh, uh yeah of c-course,” Bill replied, his eyebrows raising quizzically.

“Great okay see you then,” Stan barely waited to finish his own sentence before hurrying off, leaving a slightly confused Bill behind, who watched the curly headed boy depart with a surge of admiration and affection.

Stan didn’t really see Bill for the rest of the day, but the boy stayed in his mind the whole time, making concentration on anything else impossible. After the final bell Stan headed to the school entrance to wait for Bill, practically thrumming with apprehension. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of Richie and Eddie bickering playfully with one another. Beverly joined them with Mike and Ben and flashed him an encouraging smile and a thumbs up. Just then Bill appeared next to Stan, smiling as always as he saw his friend

“Hey S-Stan! You wanted t-to talk to me?” he said.

“Um, uh, yeah,” Stan managed, his anxiety threatening to undermine his speech. “So, I uh, well. I was just, um, thinking and,” he paused.

“Yeah?” Bill asked. His heart began to beat a bit faster and butterflies began to flutter in his stomach. Was Stan about to ask him to the dance? Bill’s mind began to race. Of course he would love to go with Stan; he hadn’t told anyone but he had actually had a crush on the boy since middle school, but he’d always been too nervous to make a move.

“Well, you know, I uh, I was just wondering –” whatever Stan was about to say was cut off by a new voice

“Hey Bill!” Said a girl with long blond hair pulled into a scrunchied ponytail. Stan recognised her as Holly Westfield. She was in their year and shared a math class with Bill. “Hey, I heard you didn’t have a date to the dance tomorrow! How about you go with me?” Stan’s heart all but stopped as he heard those words spoken by another, and a massive pit formed in his stomach.

“Oh, Uh I-I don’t, I mean, uh s-s-ure,” Bill, shooting a glance at Stan, replied, feeling too bad to say no. Stan felt like a train had smashed into him as the words escaped Bill’s mouth. In that moment, Stan felt as if he had shattered, and already he could feel the tears gathering in his eyes.

“Great! Here’s my number! And thanks for the help in math, as always!” Holly grinned as she handed Bill a slip of paper and then walked off. Bill turned back to Stan, and his heart fell as he saw the hurt in his friend’s eyes. “St-Stan,” he began before Stan cut him off.

“Nevermind. I, I have to go,” Stan managed. He spun around and rushed to his bike, hoping Bill hadn’t seen the dampness of his eyes. He mounted his bike and rushed home, tears rolling down his cheeks and stinging his face in the cold his whole way home.

…

On Saturday afternoon Stan headed over to Ben’s to prepare for the dance. Richie (and by extension Eddie) and Beverly had both called him the night before to check on him before making him promise he’d still come to the dance with them.

“Hey, it’s only one dance,” Eddie tried to sound optimistic. “He could still like you,” he said as he and Stan put on their suits

“Yeah Stan! You’re a catch!” chimed in Richie. “Hell, if I wasn’t dating Eds over here I’d be all over you!” Richie laughed as Eddie slapped his arm and made a noise of disgust.

“Eddie’s right you shouldn’t give up,” Ben added.

“Thanks guys. But I’m fine. Really. I just want to get the dance done,” Stan said as he adjusted his purple tie in the mirror. The words felt hollow and paper-thin, and Stan was sure that his friends didn’t believe them. Neither did he.

“We could always see if Eds’ mom will come with you, since I’m all taken up this time around” Richie snickered.

“You’re a real asshole you know that?” Eddie said.

“You know you love me,” came Richie’s reply. One by one the rest of the losers showed up (without Bill of course, he was arriving with his date) and Stan’s spirits lifted slightly, but he could still feel the void inside of him.

Ben’s parents drove them to the dance and as he climbed out of the car, Stan couldn’t help but smile as he saw his friends around him, dressed up and grinning. A blanket of white snow lay upon the ground and fat snowflakes fell lazily to the ground, swirling slowly and carelessly to a rest. The front doors were decorated lavishly with balloons and tinsel and kids streamed inside. The losers made their way through the front doors of the school and into the main hallway, where balloons and snowflake shaped glitter and ceiling décor formed a path that led them to the gym.

Winter themed decorations hung everywhere, and groups of people danced and talked as music blared loudly over everything. Over in one corner was a snack and punch table. Stan talked and danced and joked with his friends and for a time managed to lift his spirits just a bit. Bill and Holly found the losers just before one of the slow dances. Stan’s breath caught in his throat as he saw bills thin and lanky form in a pristine black suit and a white shirt, a silver tie that matched his date’s silver dress glinting in the decorative lighting. His brown hair was brushed to the side, for once not covering his forehead. Bill smiled and greeted all his friends talking with them as they talked with one another and introduced themselves to his date, but his smile faded when he finally made his way to Stan, who had been trying hard to avoid him.

“hi S-Stan,” he said. “Y-you look really n-n-nice.”

“Thanks, you do too,” Stan tried to smile at his closest friend, but the pain in his heart prevented any sort of convincing gesture.

“Hey are y-you okay?” Bill began, concern etched on his face. Just then the music shifted as Kenny Loggins’ Footloose ended and Crowded House’s Don’t Dream It’s Over began, signalling a slow dance.

Stan almost burst into tears right there. That song had played once earlier in the year, through a radio that Stan kept in his room. That day, Stan had failed an exam in his English class, and it had been Bill who came to his house to comfort him, finding him crying in his room. Bill had walked in, and, without speaking, wrapped Stan in an embrace until he had stopped crying.

Bill’s face fell as he recognised the song as well. That day, Bill had thought nothing would ever feel better than being able to feel his friend’s warmth as they hugged, and he wanted nothing more than to wrap Stan in another embrace.

There’s a battle ahead/ many battles are lost

“Bill! Come on its time for us to dance!” Holly said as she appeared by Bill’s side. her hand took Bill’s and she led him to the floor as he turned to look back at Stan. Stan turned to look at his friends. Ben and Beverly were heading out to dance and Richie and Eddie were already on the floor, Eddie yelping and telling Richie to stop stepping on his feet as he swore and apologised

“Hey Mike, I’m going to get some fresh air,” Stan said, his friend looked forlornly at Stan, but nodded his head. “You go find someone to dance with.” Stan continued, mustering a smile. Mike apologised and patted Stan on the shoulder as he passed, and then turned to a nearby girl who was sheepishly smiling at him.

Bill was barely even aware of the girl in front of him, barely even aware of the hands resting around his neck. All he could think about, all he could see, was Stan.

Hey now heyyy now/don’t dream its over

The song continued, and Bill flashed back to the day in Stan’s room. He could feel the warmth of the boy as he had just rested in Bill’s arms, choked sobs escaping now and again. He was brought back to reality just in time to see Stan, face downcast, heading out of the gym and towards the outside, his sorrow evident in every step.

They come, they come/to build a wall between us

“Bill, Bill are you okay?” Holly said. “You haven’t said a word. And I have been trying so hard to make an effort all night but it’s like you don’t even want to be here!” Bill looked at the girl in front of him and seemed to register her for the first time.

We know they won’t win

“Y-yeah I just,” Bill sighed and pulled away from Holly, breaking out of her arms. “I n-n-need to go. I’m sorry,” Bill whirled away and headed off after Stan, leaving an objecting Holly fading behind him. Only one thing, one person mattered right now.

As soon as Stan was outside the tears began flowing freely. He was dimly aware of the night time chill biting through the fabric of his suit, but he didn’t care. He gazed at the snow floating lazily to the ground, each flake spinning and turning as if they were holding a waltz of their own. He heard the crunch of snow behind him, and instinctively knew who it was behind him.

“You should be inside,” Stan said, without turning to face Bill. “You shouldn’t leave Holly in the middle of a dance.”

Don’t let them win

“Stan, w-we need to talk” Bill said, moving closer to his friend, to the love of his life. “What’s g-g-going on why did you l-leave the dance?” Bill reached out and touched his shoulder, and both their hearts fluttered at the physical contact. He turned Stan gently around and his heart fell as he saw the tears streaking down his friend’s face.

“I was going to ask you Bill, okay? Yesterday, I was going to ask you to be my date!” Stan all but shouted, unable to contain his feelings any longer. “Because, because I’m in love with you! Alright? There, that’s the truth! And obviously you don’t feel the same way but it hurts Bill! It hurts and I just can’t take it a –” Stan’s words became incoherent, replaced by heaves and sobs as more tears rolled down his cheeks. Bill looked at the friend he had been in love with for so long, stunned by his admission, and heartbroken at his pain. He rushed forward and wrapped his arms around his love. Stan didn’t fight it. Bill squeezed tighter and let him sob, just like that night in Stan’s room

“Stan l-l-listen to me,” Bill said after a few seconds, Stan still crying into his shoulder. “Stan listen,” he repeated. “I love you. I h-have since the m-moment we met. I’m so so s-s-sorry I didn’t tell you. I was af-f-fraid you didn’t like m-me. I wanted to come here with yu-you, but Holly asked and I just felt t-too bad to say no. But I should h-have I’m so s-sorry,”

Stan could barely comprehend what he was hearing. In the background he could faintly here the song.

Hey now heyyy now/ don’t dream its over

Stan delicately pulled away to look at Bill, tears still running down his face, and sniffled. It was as if he was seeing Bill for the first time. His soft green eyes were pools of emerald that Stan could have lost himself in for eternity. A few rogue snowflakes had lighted on his head and shoulders, glittering in the moonlight.

Slowly, without even stopping to realise what he was doing, he leaned in towards Bill, and Bill followed suit. Softly and tenderly their lips touched. Bill’s mind exploded with colour as his lips met Stan’s, catching the salty taste of Stan’s tears; he didn’t care. They stayed this way for several seconds, neither boy willing to pull away, not wanting to risk breaking the magic of the moment. Finally, Bill pulled back, and Stan looked deeply again into Bill’s eyes. Despite the tears that still streaked his face Stan formed a soft, genuine smile, the first one to be there in days. Bill’s heart fluttered at the beautiful sight, his mind at a loss for words. Silently, they gazed at one another, a tender silence hanging for a few seconds before Stan finally broke it.

“Bill, will you be my date to the Winter Dance?” he asked delicately and quietly, as if the words were made of glass, and speaking to loud would shatter them. Bill smiled, and a tear rolled down his cheek.

“I w-would love nothing m-more,” He said.

The two boys’ lips met again, and Bill wrapped Stan up in another embrace. Stan broke off the kiss and nuzzled his head into Bill’s shoulder, and Bill rested his cheek on top of Stan’s head. The air was cold as it ebbed and flowed around them, seeping through their clothing. But they did not feel it. All they felt, all they needed was each other’s warmth. From the school the song, their song, could be heard, faint and muffled, as soft and delicate as the snow that fell around them

Get to know the feeling of liberation and release

The two boys swayed in time with muffled music, eyes closed, wrapped in each other’s bliss. Around them the fat snowflakes drifted and floated, swirling slowly around them before finally coming to a rest on the ground around them. A few found their way onto their heads and shoulders, but the boys felt only each other.

Hey now heyyy now/ don’t dream its over

“I love you,” Bill whispered suddenly and tenderly, no trace of a stutter. Stan said nothing; he only smiled and nuzzled further into Bill. That was the only answer he needed.

#IT(2017)#stenbrough #reddie #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #stanley uris #bill denbrough #ben hanscom #mike hanlon #beverly marsh

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