#Do you think Frank is going to take longer to come around to Eddie or the other way around?
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"I don't know how someone who dislikes insects as much as you gets stung so often- have you seen Poppy for this?"
#welcome home#welcome home fanart#frank frankly#unaffiliated with the incredible creation of welcome home i'm just a fan having fun!#eddie dear#eddie x frank#frank x eddie#Sketched instead of colored today sometimes you need something different#When the feral enby bug enthusiast is actually paying attention to you and you can't handle it#Do you think Frank is going to take longer to come around to Eddie or the other way around?#I'd say he's downright playful in that one audio where he just won't stop teasing him#I have something I want to sketch based on how I percieved that if only I had timeeeee
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Can I request #21 "It's alright, I'm here." for the there was only one bed/sharing a bed prompts? ☺️❤️
Only three months late! But I was feeling inspired by @andavs stunning 6 days of Buddie art (this one in particular) and I finally made some writing happen. <3
ETA: Now on AO3 because I did think of a title after all
The Second Hand Unwinds
The body holds on tight to pain. It’s a trite little phrase that Eddie’s snorted at more than once after hearing it from Frank, from well-meaning “I’ve been where you are” guys at group meetings, and from more than one physical therapist. But the fact that it makes for pretty, marketable word art, doesn’t keep it from being true.
Eddie remembers it whenever an old memory works its way out of the darkness like shrapnel coming to the surface and every time pain flares hot and fresh through scarred-over wounds. His body marks the passing of the seasons, notches carved into his bones as the years pass, and Eddie’s muscles brace themselves hard against the most devastating anniversaries of his life. Usually well before his brain has a chance to notice the date on the calendar.
Every time it happens–every time–he forgets what it feels like. He wakes up one morning and it takes him longer to get out of bed. He rubs his eyes and feels better after a shower and doesn’t think anything more of it. And then he wakes up tired the next day. And the next. Eddie wakes up in a gloom and he remembers tossing and turning so restlessly that he’s not actually sure he even fell asleep.
From there it’s a quick slide into running late, losing patience, making largely inconsequential but stupid mistakes at work. He takes one night off from cooking, then two. Christopher doesn’t go without vegetables or protein or crustless sandwiches or any of the other important parts of the preteen food pyramid but he notices the change. Mentions the change to Buck because it doesn’t occur to him to keep secrets like that (not that Eddie would really want him to) and then Eddie finds himself under the compassionate scrutiny of Buck’s gaze with no idea how to explain himself.
So he attempts a simple batch of lemon chicken to prove he’s alright. Then, when Christopher and Buck crack each other up making exaggerated sour faces at each other over the mostly inedible plates that they dutifully try to eat anyway, Eddie doesn’t laugh. He does the dishes himself and he doesn’t turn around when Buck wraps his arms around his waist from behind and rests a chin on his shoulder in a lemon-scented apology.
His body aches. It aches even when work has been easy and he’s angry and he’s fine but also not and he can’t figure out what’s wrong.
“I’m going to bed,” he says, earlier than usual. “Can you check his homework?”
“Yeah, of course,” Buck answers, getting up from the couch even though Eddie deliberately made his announcement from the far end of the living room. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Just tired.” Eddie waits and accepts the hand on his forehead as Buck checks to see how warm he is, almost looking more worried when he doesn’t find any trace of fever.
Keeping his hand on Eddie’s cheek, he asks, “You’ve been tired a lot lately.”
“Mmm.”
“You’d tell me right? If there was something wrong?”
There’s nothing Eddie can do but nod. He wishes there was something, wishes he knew how to explain it to Buck–to himself for fuck’s sake. He wishes he knew why he’s pulling himself away from Buck’s touch when he wants to melt into it until his body makes sense again.
Buck studies his face, searching for the answers that Eddie can’t give him and then he sighs, gently brushing his hair back before leaning in to kiss him just as gently. “I won’t be up late,” he says. “If you need anything…”
“I will,” Eddie promises.
Fresh spring heat has finally started warming the city and the bedroom is stifling when Eddie closes the door behind him. He cracks both bedroom windows just wide enough to let a breeze in, almost wincing as the smell of jasmine comes in with it, strong enough to make him want to sneeze like a dog does, with his full body and a shake of his head. He leaves the windows anyway, trading one discomfort for another and slides into bed, staring at the whirring blades of the fan until they morph into the shape of their longer, sharper helicopter cousins and stop Eddie’s heart in his chest.
He’s not even in the helicopter. He’s somewhere else. It’s dark and the wind is howling, splattering rain pinging off every surface like flying gravel. Eddie can see through it perfectly. None of the rain streaking down his face impacts his view of the scene at all. He sees Shannon, dressed in sunshine yellow, take a step toward him. Toward the flooded street that’s rushing with whitewater and debris. He screams. But all that comes out of his mouth is blood. When he tries to run, to stop her, to dive in, to rescue her, his legs give out beneath him and he collapses.
A wave crests over the curb and washes Shannon, blood on her clothes and blood on her face, into the river. She vanishes with a choked gasp, reaching for him, and Eddie reaches back, stretching out his hand as far as it will go. There’s blood on his fingers and pooling beneath him and he reaches and reaches, trying to pull himself up, trying to save her, to save both of them, but his body flops uselessly in the rain.
It hurts. And then it doesn’t. And Eddie knows.
He’s going to die.
He’s going to die and he never told Buck- He’s going to die and he hasn’t had enough time with Christopher. He won’t get to explain this to him. He won’t get to see him grow up. He won’t get to see Buck grow old. He’s dying. He’s dying. He’s-
Gasping, Eddie wakes up. It’s still dark; the fan is still spinning. As he struggles to sit up, he can’t get any breath into his lungs. The air is too thick with jasmine, that cloying scent that invades LA every spring, and he puts a hand to his throat like he can claw a fresh opening into his lungs.
So many of Eddie’s worst memories have come in the spring. With this smell in the air. With this light shimmering through the windows. And his body remembers.
“Eddie? Eddie, hey. Eddie, are you okay?” Buck asks, his voice cutting through the fog as one of his strong hands presses between Eddie’s shoulder blades and the other hovers over his thigh. He’s gotten to his knees somehow while Eddie’s been doing all he can just to sit upright and his body is warm and close. That scent of Buck that gets more powerful after he’s been sleeping a while pricks at Eddie’s nose and his windpipe relaxes all at once, finally letting in a mouthful of air.
“That’s it. Just breathe. I’ve got you, okay? I’ve got you. It was just a dream.”
Eddie can hear how hard Buck is working to keep the fear out of his voice for him and he falls in love just a little bit more in that moment. Turning into Buck’s chest, Eddie lets himself fall into his arms, shoving his freezing hands up the back of Buck’s t-shirt and trying to burrow his way inside. Buck only wobbles for a second as he takes Eddie’s weight and then he cradles him close, one hand sliding up into Eddie’s hair and the other wrapping tight around his body.
“It’s okay. It’s alright; I’m here. I’m right here. You’re safe. We’re all safe. Christopher is right down the hall. Everybody is okay.”
Effortlessly, Buck soothes the wounds he knows are most likely to be hurting badly enough to wake Eddie in the middle of the night and the gravel sound of his sleep-rough words almost brings tears to his eyes.
His body remembers this too. It knows safety and comfort and strength enough for all of his heaviness. Eddie breathes in Buck–herbal body wash and the tang of sweat, the familiarity of his skin–and, gradually, the terror of his nightmare melts into exhaustion.
“What do you need?” Buck murmurs, stroking through the hairs on the back of Eddie’s neck. “Some water? Or we could watch tv for a while?”
Buck can feel Eddie shake his head against his collarbone, but the words aren’t as far away as they sometimes are on nights like this so Eddie reaches for them. “No. Just this. Just stay with me.”
Keep holding me is what he means, but he already feels delicate enough to shred and that additional vulnerability is just a step too far. Buck understands anyway.
“Want to lay back down?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
It takes a minute–Buck’s knees protest the change as he shifts his weight off of them and the blankets are half tangled and half on the floor from the thrashing both of them have done–but eventually they fold themselves together. On their sides, facing each other, Eddie twines his fingers together with Buck’s and gets a squeeze in return, one that promises that this is something he’ll never wake up and find gone.
The chill eases from his bones and the screaming eases from his memories and Eddie tiptoes cautiously back to the edge of sleep. He’s wavering there, resisting the fall, and he feels the mattress shift and feels it creak as Buck shifts beside him.
His fingers brush Eddie’s cheek again, curling around to tilt his head forward, just the smallest bit, and then Buck presses a kiss to the top of his head. He breathes in deep, like he’s reminding himself of something too, and then there’s another kiss to Eddie’s forehead.
“I love you,” he whispers. “We’re okay.”
And all of Eddie believes.
#buddie#buddie fanfic#911 fanfic#eddie diaz#evan buckley#buck x eddie#sharing a bed#depression#trauma#nightmares#death mention#should I post this to AO3?#I'd have to title it#I hate titling#allison writes
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nights when i’m hollow
6x17 coda
“so she just—left?” eddie asks, settling against the couch with his phone in his hand. “just like that?”
“yeah,” buck mumbles. something shifts behind him, and it confuses eddie for a second—it’s late, and that doesn’t sound like buck’s bed—when he remembers kameron. “just told me to take care of myself and walked right out.”
“wow,” eddie says, blowing out a breath. “that’s cold.” he hums, considering, then asks, “is she coming back?”
buck sighs. “i don’t know.”
“do you want her to?”
an even deeper sigh, and then, “i don’t know.”
eddie doesn’t say anything, just waits. frank does it to him all the time. if he can just hold out for a little longer, buck will—
“i mean,” buck says, and shuffles against the couch again. “she’s nice. we have fun together. but i don’t—i don’t know, i kinda get the feeling she’s just having fun.”
“what’s it been?” eddie asks. “three dates?”
“uh, four,” buck says. “and i’m not—” he sighs again, and eddie can imagine him scrubbing his palm across his cheek. “if taylor hadn’t been on tv—if lucy hadn’t shown up at the bar—god knows how long we would have gone without talking about any of it. she didn’t exactly seem to want to know.”
“well, that sounds like a her problem,” eddie says, and when buck huffs a laugh he realises that must be a phrase he picked up from christopher.
“yeah, i don’t know,” buck says. “i mean, it was a lot at once though, right? all the exes, and then kameron showed up—maybe if i’d, i don’t know. eased into it?”
“it’s your life,” eddie says. “yeah, there’s a lot of it, but we’re not kids anymore. people come with baggage. you gotta accept that.”
“i guess you’re one to talk,” buck mutters. “i seem to remember your baggage requiring a couple of trips to the hardware store.”
eddie huffs. “like i said. we all got stuff. she probably has stuff, too. does she talk about herself?”
there’s a silent moment, like buck is thinking about it. “not really,” he says. “we mostly talk about me. i mean—” he cuts himself off and laughs. “i was going to say i have an interesting job, but so does she.”
“do you ask about her?” eddie asks, and can practically hear buck rolling his eyes on the other end of the phone.
“of course i do,” buck says. “unlike you, i’ve actually been on a date in this century.”
“hey, i dated shannon in this century,” eddie protests, and buck laughs.
“yeah?” he says. “did you ask her about herself? must have been scintillating conversation. what’s your favourite class? who do you have for homeroom?”
eddie laughs despite himself. “i—yeah, we might have had that conversation.”
“i know how to talk to women,” buck says, a little too defiant for the soft grey haze of phone calls after midnight. “i just don’t know if this one really wants to talk to me.”
“buck, you know as well as i do that if she wants to stick around, she needs to know about all of it,” eddie says gently. “it’s your life. it’s not gonna go anywhere.”
buck sighs, and eddie’s pretty sure they both know what he means.
after buck hangs up, eddie lies on the couch and stares at the ceiling, shadows flickering with the street lamps outside. if she wants to stick around, she needs to know about all of it, he’s said, but it’s not until now that it hits him: if he’s going to date someone new, he’s going to have to do this too. he’s going to have to tell someone new about everything that’s happened to him, tie it all up in some neat little bow like he knows how to explain any of it. he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to talk about things he’s still not sure he understands.
it would be so much easier if it didn’t have to be someone new. if he could somehow just—have someone who knows him already, someone who doesn’t need the sparknotes of his traumas listed on a laminated index card.
a thought occurs to him before he even knows where it comes from, but it takes root in his mind and slowly starts to grow.
someone like buck.
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Just noticed we weren't giving enough attention to Finfolk Wally'(cause Howdy is just so fkabfoenodj) so is there any fun facts you can share about Finfolk Wally?
You are so right, I have not been giving the star of the island any attention at all! Even though I still think Howdy is a very handsome dude-
It is no secret at all the most if not ALL finfolk are vain with their looks. This is based on the lore surrounding the reason they have such an obsession with marrying humans.
Wally is especially careful with styling his hair and picking the best outfit each day to match. Sure, he might wear the same suit a lot or just the same suit in another color, but sometimes he likes to mix things up and wear his down. It's something between being wavy and curly. Usually he lets Julie style it if it's down since she's used to it from her job on the mainland. He even wears seashells and other ocean-themed accessories in it!
Being vain will of course mean he wears makeup (surprisingly). Usually it's just eyeliner and light eye shadow though to really make his eyes stand out.
However...
May whatever god you pray to save you if you so much as ruin his hair. You will NOT come out of that unscathed. Even Sally thinks Wally tends to go too far when he's angered at someone. Though she can't say much considering she's the same way if you ruin her claws nails.
Obviously he's got a giant ego to match. If you really want to hurt him, aim for his ego. But then again, that will probably land you 6 feet under.
He isn't the violent type, much. It's just finfolk nature when it comes down to it. Most finfolk are even considered evil at birth when compared to other creatures. The residents of Home might be a bit different from the rest though. They can be truly kind...only to each other or anyone else that lives on the island. Just about everyone else on the outside are given the fake smiles and double-edged kindness.
Wally of course is second to the most "kindest" of them all. Poppy being the first and genuinely kindest.
When on mainland, he'll put up a friendly and welcoming 'can-do' attitude for others when really he just wants to punt whichever puppet dares to step in front of him. Usually if he is so well disguised not even other finfolk know it's him Wally will really let his aggressive nature take over. But that's wishful thinking. He's usually stuck with being an on-off art teacher for college and elementary students (he hates rowdy teens with a burning passion). Usually seeing the adorable children in a classroom is what brings out a rare calmness in him. He took note that children have the same effect on Howdy. Perhaps he wanted to be a father too.
He hopes to be a dad one day, but for now, seeing kids be happy to go wild with paint is all he needs.
When Wally returns to Home he always spills the tea while sipping literal tea. He likes his wine, but tea is the most beloved by him. Sometimes Wally will even add in drops of a potion that he and Howdy had brewed together. It's usually stress relief or magical enhancers.
It's when he meets you on the mainland does the thought of kids come up again. He rarely ever has a tolerance to puppets outside of Home, but you? How could he ever pass up the chance to get the perfect life? No longer does he have a fake smile around others, and no longer is he as aggressive as he was before. It's like what happened to Eddie when he met Frank. He loves you so much it hurts. He has to bring you back with him no matter what.
Home thinks it's a great idea.
#welcome home#welcome home finfolk au#finfolk#folklore#au#welcome home au#wally darling#welcome home wally darling#wally darling x reader#welcome home wally darling x reader#welcome home finfolk wally darling
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hi darlings
PLEASE DNI WITH SMUT UNLESS 18+
Masterlist
* smut
^ fluff
- angst
(Please read the WARNING mark beside each work so you know what you're about to read!!)
Bucky Barnes
Series
Unexpected
Our mutual friend dropped out of this trip at the last minute, so hi I guess we’re spending the next two weeks together.
Part 1 ^
Part 2 ^
Part 3 ^,-
Part 4 ~
Part 5 */^
Part 6 */^
Part 7 ^/-
Bring Me to Life
Bucky is a struggling single father trying to take care of his daughter when a stranger welcomes them into her home and brings a gentle love back into their life.
playlist
Part One - The Kindness of a Stranger ^/-
Part Two - Luck or Fate? ^/-
Part Three - A Home for Three ^/-
Part Four - Happy Days are Coming ^/-
Part Five - Nothing Else Matters ^/-
Part Six - No Longer Afraid ^/-
Part Seven - Breathe Easy Now ^/-
Part Eight - This is What Home Feels Like ^/-
Part Nine - Our Future is Bright ^/*
Part Ten - Your Love is All I Need
Part Eleven - More Than Anything ^/*
Part Twelve - Patience is the Greatest Virtue ^/*
Imagines/Requests
Hold Me While You Wait
Bucky gets enlisted into the war
Part 1 ^/-
Part 2 ^/-
A Second Home
Bucky finds out that Alpine has been treating your apartment like a second home
drabble ^
Promise?
It’s the morning of a huge mission that Bucky has to go on and you worry too much.
part 1 ^/-
Let the Games Begin
One-shot ^/-
I carry your heart with me
One-shot ^/-
Frank Castle
Imagines/Requests
Before You Go *
“You need a place to stay for the night?” ^/-
Dean Winchester
Imagines/Requests
making a pie with Dean ^
Instagram Stories/pictures
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Daryl Dixon
Moodboards
the more you love, the more you suffer
take my heart, daryl dixon
a beautiful disaster
our demons
Imagines/Requests
“Spend the night with me?” ^
“Of course I came for you, it’d take more than that to stop me.” ^/-
“I’ll be here, loving you even in the silence.” ^/-
“Most of my nightmares are about losing you.” ^/-
Eddie Munson
Series
Fearless
Chapter One: What Dreams Are Made Of ^/-
Chapter Two: Where You’re Meant to Be ^/-
Chapter Three: Moving Too Fast ^/-
Chapter Four: Home Sweet Home ^/-
Unforgettable
you end up as third wheel at the fair when Eddie comes to your rescue & helps makes your summer unforgettable.
Part 1 ^/-
Part 2 ^
Part 3
Imagines/Requests
“How do I know I have a crush on someone?” “Well you can’t stop thinking about them, you feel strange when they’re around and then you want to--why are you looking at me like this?” ^/-
“they would be so mad if they found out.” “fuck ‘em”. "If I ask you to kiss me in front of all these people, will you do it?". "When we get home I'm cuffing you to the bed and going down on you all night until my jaw is sore." ^/-
Steve Harrington
Imagines/Requests
“When I’m with you, I’m not just existing, I’m living.” ^/-
Billy Hargrove
Silent Confessions, Loud Masks
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Requests
Ribbon of Affection
Weathering The Storm
Embracing The Mirror
Roadside Assistance
Past Characters/Men I no longer write for:
Sebastian Stan
Maybe It’s Meant to Be
You fell asleep on a stranger’s shoulder during an airplane ride and you’re horrified because you’ve never met. But he tells you it’s fine and offers to buy you a coffee.
Part 1 ^/-
Part 2 ^/-
Imagines/Requests
Could you do something with Sebastian where he’s dating reader secretly and he ends up doing a PR relationship without telling her about it and she finds out online?
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Chris Evans
Series
Boundary Line
You and Chris are the only single ones in your friend group. Him, by choice. You, not so much. You’ve always been the matchmaker in your friend group so now you’ve made it your mission to help Chris find the one. But what happens when this adventure turns into absolute chaos and true feelings arise?
Part 1 ^/-
Part 2 ^/-
Part 3 ^/-
Part 4 ^/-
Part 5 ^/-
Part 6 ^/-
Sweet Tooth
You’ve just opened a bakery on a small strip in Boston, close to where Chris takes Dodger on his walks. It’s a late night when Chris is walking Dodger and is craving something sweet when he stumbles upon your shop.
Part 1 ^
Part 2 ^/-
Part 3 ^/-
Part 4 ^/-
Part 5 ^/*
Requests/Imagines
Wildest Dream ~
Guardian Angel ^/-
“Protecting you isn’t my duty but it’s my privilege.” ^/-
“Protecting you isn’t my duty it’s my privilege.” #2 ^/-
“Spend the night with me.” & “Your hands are warm.” ^
Andy Barber
Imagines/Requests
“just because I happen to hate everyone else, doesn’t mean I don’t want to spend every second of my day with you.” ^
“Let me give you a reason to stay in bed.” ^
Ari Levinson
Imagines/Requests
“Your hands are warm.” & “sad, I have a blanket with all this extra room and no one to share it with.” ^
“but you’re so cheery...and [he’s] so...weird” & “just because I happen to hate everyone else doesn’t mean I don’t want to spend every second of my day with you.” ^
“Listen to me… I need to go back out there but I promise you, I'll be right back. Okay? All I want you to do is stay hidden and I'll be back before you know it.” ^/-
Henry Cavill
Imagines/Requests
“Your hands are warm” ^
“Your hands are warm” #2 ^
“Let me give you a reason to stay in bed.” ^
Series
New Year’s Day
You meet Henry on New Year’s Eve. What will this year bring for you and him? Only time will tell.
Part One - Stranger ^
Detective!Henry
Henry is the lead detective on your case. He’s made it his priority to protect you. But at what cost?
Part One - Not on My Watch ^/-
Part Two - You’re Safe With Me ^/-
Thantophobia
(n.) the fear of losing someone you love
You never imagined falling in love would be the scariest but easiest thing for you to do. Especially when it came to him.
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
#Bucky Barnes#daryl dixon#billy hargrove#frank castle#eddie munson#steve harrington#dean winchester#bucky barnes x reader#daryl dixon x reader#billy hargrove x reader#frank castle x reader#eddie munson x reader#steve harrington x reader#dean winchester x reader#daryl dixon imagine#bucky barnes imagines#billy hargrove imagines#frank castle imagines#eddie munson imagine#dean winchester imagine#stranger things#twd#daryl dixon angst#billy hargrove angst#bucky barnes angst#eddie munson angst#dean winchester angst#frank castle angst#steve harrington angst
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sorry franklydear enjoyers i didn't mean to hit you with this one so soon (i did)
based on the idea i had when i was analysing the newest WH update so obviously spoilers for that. anyway enjoy <3
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It had been a few days since Homewarming festivities had ended.
Eddie had left the party abruptly that day, and no one had really seen him since. It was a point of concern for everyone... but also no one really knew what to do.
Frank had spent the past day asking and looking around, clearly reaching his peak of concern. Initially, he thought that Eddie just needed some time for himself. He looked overwhelmed when the two of them had made eyecontact, and it was best to let him take some time off. But eventually he couldn't wait any longer. He started by asking some of the neighbours, but they came up with nothing.
“He did look awfully tired...” Sally sighed, “But I don’t think even Eddie could sleep that long...”
“Have you seen him leave the post office since?” Frank asked, using the question that he would proceed to ask every other member of the town.
“Hmm... now that you mention it...” She pondered, “I haven’t no... I support the sentiment of going to check on him, though.”
“Eddie was supposed to deliver some things to my shop!” Howdy threw his hands up in despair, “I haven’t had my batch of new stock... but Eddie is more important. I just hope hes okay.”
“Maybe... he’s doing something that's taking a long time...” Julie remained her joyful self, “What if he’s making us a surprise?!” Frank appreciated her ideas, but this wasn’t helping. He thanked her and moved on.
“Oh dear, I do hope he’s okay...” Poppy placed down her baking tray, “I’ve been so busy baking and trying out this new cookbook that it’s completely passed my mind... Would you keep me updated?”
Barnaby seemed to be the most passive about the situation, “Eh. Maybe he’s just holed up in there for a reason.” He shrugged, “He’ll come out of there on his own. I’m sure of it.”
“Very nice of you, Barnaby,” Frank rolled his eyes, “I’ll keep you updated, I suppose.”
Frank took this as the last stand. He began his march towards the post office across town. It wasn’t that far of a walk, but it felt like hours. The dread building slowly, making Frank worry about what on earth he would find in there.
He had to tell himself that Eddie was fine, and that he would walk into the office and find him doing something incredibly mundane, like organising the mail or sweeping up bits of paper from his latest craft.
“Where are you going, Frank?”
A voice cut through his panicked thoughts. He jumped in surprise, immediately spinning around to be met with a familiar empty stare.
Wally Darling...
“O-Oh! Wally!” Frank stammered, “What a... pleasant surprise...!” He tried to pull of his shock in any way that wasn’t a weird mild fear he suddenly had, “I’m... going to visit Eddie! I haven’t seen him since Homewarming so I was worried about him.”
“Oh...” a very blunt response, “That’s very nice of you.” Wally pulled his best smile he could, considering he had some kind of permanent grin anyway. Frank smiled back, but it was more of a strained grin.
“Good luck, Frank.” Wally didn’t move, hinting at Frank to make his own exit from the conversation.
“Ah... Th-Thank you.” Frank hurries off, leaving Wally to watch as he leaves.
The door to the post office was covered by the blinds that Frank didn’t know it had. It also looked completely dark inside, adding to the dread. Frank tried his best to peek inside, but it was futile. He thought it would be best to just go inside.
Frank took a deep breath... and opened the door slowly.
The lights were off inside, as he has suspected, but there was no sign of life either.
“Eddie...?” Frank could barely speak, his nerves getting the better of him.
He looked around the empty room. It wasn’t in any sort of disarray, rather that it was organised. Like it had been untouched for a while. Not a speck of dust though, as if something had been looking after it, or it had become stuck in time without Eddie.
“Hello...??” He calls out again, standing in the middle of the main room. He had spun around a few times, hoping maybe one turn would help him find something he hadn’t seen before. Unfortunately, it didn’t work like that, and he knew it.
Frank went behind the counter, into the back room. On the counter in front of him was Howdy’s parcel, wrapped and assigned to him. Eddie was going to deliver it before whatever happened to him or wherever he went.
Panicking further, Frank rushed out of the back, and then trying to find an upstairs or where Eddie would have been living. Off in the corner of the room, there was a very plain looking door, leading Frank to suspect that it was potentially what he could be looking for.
He approached, took another much deeper breath this time, and placed his hand on the door handle. He hesitated for a few moments, the dread lingering harder than before. He had a voice in his head screaming that something very bad had happened to Eddie... or he had done something to...
Eddie would never. He’s probably just having a bad spell, and he’s be fine...
In a swift movement, he turned the handle and flung open the door.
Silence.
Eddie’s room was completely untouched. It has been perfectly organised and cleaned. Not an item out of place. It was unsettling, to say the least.
A shiver went down Frank’s spine... He was completely clueless.
...
Where is Eddie...?
#i decided that this was kind of too short for Ao3#and also i havent posted there in a while so i decided this ones for the tumblerinas#also ive NEVER written for WH so im sooo sorry if this is ooc :( but this is also how i kind of see the characters???#welcome home#welcome home frank#welcome home eddie#franklydear#uhhhh is there anything else to tag i dont think so#welcome home spoilers#there we go#frank frankly#eddie dear
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love you in my sleep | 4.2k
Eddie likes to think he's pretty good at bottling things up—he's not great at keeping them bottled up but—maybe it'd be more accurate to specify champagne bottles, specifically the type sprayed around on Formula One podiums. Or, well, soda canning things up might be the better term because, God, is he good at shaking those bad boys up until they explode. But going by the last explosion, Eddie thinks he has about two more years before his feelings for Buck come bursting out of him like champagne foam; light and fizzy and drenching.
Except he's in therapy now, and Frank had gently but stubbornly picked away at his brain until he'd unearthed two things: one that Eddie had been repressing longer than the trauma of war, and one that Eddie had been repressing like it was as apocalyptic as war.
Which is why he finds himself leaning against the corner of the hallway wall, chest still heaving with the lingering snap of a lightning bolt in his head, watching Buck sleep. It should take him back, maybe, to a week where everyone in their little family spent their time just watching Buck sleep. It might have under other circumstances—like if he'd ever managed to make himself look at Buck for more than a vanishing second of time. But now, the rise and fall of Buck's chest, the strong and harsh wheeze of his snores, the expressiveness of his face as his nose twitches—he's just asleep, he's alive, and Eddie loves him more than he can ever understand.
At least, he thinks as he takes a step toward the couch, this explosion won't be quite so catastrophic.
At most, that terrible and cruel voice that always has and probably always will sound a little like his parents says, you'll blow up this beautiful life you've built for you and your son.
It's too late for Eddie to stop it now though, body moving without his brain's input—his heart confident and in control as he kneels down at Buck's couch-side.
It's not an orbit Buck has that pulls him in, it's something more deeply unknowable to Eddie than that. It's no red string of fate reeling him in, no intervening hand from the universe pushing him forward, no fate that has them colliding like this over and over again. It's all them. It's Eddie and Buck and what Eddie hopes is their mutual desire to weave their ribs together until they're just one beating heart with room enough for Christopher. It's how itchy Eddie feels in his own skin sometimes and the way it had taken him almost five years to understand it's because he'd wanted to crawl into Buck's. It's the way Buck gets jittery and fidgety and scratches at his arms like he'd rather be in Eddie's skin too.
There's no divine intervention in what Eddie's about to do. It's all his choice—need and want and love.
Eddie reaches for Buck's face, faltering at the last moment so that his hand lands on Buck's shoulder instead. And, fuck, just the feel of him, warm like a furnace and so goddamn alive, even through a t-shirt makes Eddie want to burn up like Icarus.
"Buck," he whispers into the stillness of the night, shaking his shoulder lightly. Buck's brow furrows in his sleep, and his snores cease for an unintelligible grumbling that makes Eddie smile fondly to himself. "Buck, wake up."
Eddie remembers, a few weeks ago, Christopher laughing at a tiktok of a woman startling awake in her bed captioned why does every parent wake up like this before he'd promptly shoved it in Eddie's face and told him 'it's you!'. Now Buck's eyes snap open, already scanning the living room like he's looking for danger until they settle on Eddie—blue as a sky before a storm, and Eddie's calm in the eye of a hurricane—and he's Christopher's other dad.
(Part of him wonders if Christopher might have sent that video to Buck.)
"Eddie, hey," Buck rasps, gravelly voice panicked and rushed enough to have Eddie straining to make the words out. "What's wrong? Is Chris— Are you—"
"We're fine, Buck," Eddie soothes, squeezing his shoulder just to let Buck's warmth sink deeper into the bones of his hand. "Everything's fine, sorry."
"No, that's..." Buck sighs, eyes fluttering shut as he slumps back against the couch with a hand over his heart. "Fuck."
"Sorry," Eddie says again, biting his lip when Buck cracks a bleary eye open to glare at him. "I just..." And Eddie has imagined this moment what has to be a billion times since a gunshot wound and Lichtenberg scars and a bloody, broken heart in a cemetery, but he's never imagined it like this. Dark, quiet, morning breath fuzzy on their tongues, Eddie on his knees, Buck yawning into his fist, Christopher asleep just down the hall. But it feels perfect, feels like them. "I love you," he breathes, and it's instant the way the weight of the world slips off his shoulders like Sisyphus had finally managed to get the boulder up and over the mountain.
@danielsousa @binickmiller @diazass @shitouttabuck @butchdiaz @buddstiel @organizedstardust @theoneandonlypigeon @anatargmova @alyxmastershipper @buckley-diaz-rules @blazeturbo102 @panbuckley @slowlyfoggydestiny @thatnamewill-probably-change @compactdiscmp3 @batgrldes @scattered-winter @prince-buck-diaz @mysteriouslyyounggalaxy
#sami rambles#i looooove this silly little fic sooooooooooo much#but it is yet another example of my complete lack of ability to grasp wordcount bc i was sure this was 2k max OOPS#911 fanfic#911 fic#buddie fic#buddie fanfic#buck x eddie fic
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SO KIND | YanderePlatonic!Old Design!Wally Darling + Home x GN!Reader
TW: kidnapping, horror body (Reader are made of rag like the neighbors)
The only thing you remembered was that you received a call from voices that seemed to come from another world, crying, begging and screaming for help.
That moment your chest felt tight and dizziness plunged into your little head.
You woke up here and you were greeted by a colorful corridor but with intense tones but a little darkness except that the windows let in light but were temporarily blocked by something.
You had no idea how you ended up in a situation like this.
Despite the darkness you managed to see.
The center of the room had a easel with a painting resting on it, you slowly approached the painting.
There were the neighbors, there was Home and ahead of them were Wally, Barnaby, Howdy, Eddie, Frank, Poppy, Julie, Sally and you, but on top there was a big red cross formed each one of them except you.
You looked at this, surprised, a little sad about why someone messed up that transcendental drawing and one more step you stepped on something rough, looked down and there was a sketch of you, but more detail.
"It's well detailed…who would have drawn it?" You thought while you left the drawing leaning on the painting, but you still did not forget that you were in a corridor that you did not know.
There were paint cans everywhere, scattered papers and a comfortable chair with a type of sewn fabric, on one side a red telephone, but the capsule was far from their telephone.
You thought too much, remembering if you were ever here once, going through the depths of your memories.
...Paintings, pictures, an armchair and the red phone that seems to be a bit wasted.
You looked at the colorful walls again and the eyes moving on their own behind of the windows.
You thought again.
.
.
.
Your eyes widened.
The chills came out of your rag skin.
Wally's house.
*CREEEK*
Somehow you felt that this house was alive.
You almost fell over with fright from the noises in the house.
"Oh…how rude of me to enter someone's house without their permission." You covered your mouth with an open palm on your lips as still looked around the house.
*KNOCK-KNOCK*
You apologized in advance that you interrupted their space either by accident and you knelt to the ground, resting a hand on the floor and rubbing it against them.
*TSSS*
You did not understand their language but you made the effort to understand them, "Uhh, Home? You whispered, "Can I ask you something, if you don't mind?"
*CREEEEK*
This has always been normal for you, no matter if it is an object, animal or person you still talk to them as if they are a real person. Your stomach turned from anxiety, you did not know if it was a yes or a no, you decided to wait a little longer.
...
...
*CREEK*
You opened your illuminated eyes, "You understand me? Can I ask you then?"
*KNOCK-KNOCK*
You crossed your arms, "if you think...I didn't end up here either by accident…" You reached up to Home's eyes, "What am I doing here in the first place-ah, besides…I feel embarrassed..of being in Wally's house without his permission..ahh, that must be wrong of me to get in and..and. What-"
You rambled, rambled and rambled.
You forced yourself to bite your tongue and pat your cheeks hard, leaving marks with your own hands. You let out a nervous laugh as you scratched your neck, "Sorry, the anxiety spoke for me."
You got up from the ground excitedly, "I'll go home for the meantime, thank you very much for taking care of me while I was unconscious, Home!" While you were going through the door that was in front of you, it must be the entrance and exit of the house.
When you took the door handle and turned it…it was locked.
You looked strangely at the shiny door.
*CRACK-CRACK*
You looked at House's moving pupils through the window of the door.
When you turned it back.
*CRACK-CRACK*
*CRACK-CRACK*
*CRACK-CRACK*
*CRACK-CRACK*
*CRACK-CRACK*
*CRACK-CRACK*
*CRACK-CRACK*
*CRACK-CRACK*
*CRACK-CRACK*
*CRACK-CRACK*
The sounds made you nervous.
*CRACK-CRACK*
*CRACK-CRACK*
*CRACK-CRACK*
*CRACK-CRACK*
*CRACK-CRACK*
*CRACK-CRACK*
*CRACK-CRACK*
.
.
.
Then, you waited until the noises stopped and the giant pupils in the window were narrowed. The light came on in the living room, illuminating a large mess of paintings, drawings and art tools.
*CREEEK*
The handle was played, it was closed and the safety was unlocked.
*KNOCK*
You swallowed your saliva while you looked at the reflection of you in the golden handle with a puzzled look, "Do you want me..to stay for wait for him?"
*KNOCK-KNOCK*
"I remember he said he was going to Barnaby's house, his best friend, from what I understand" You cocked your head over your shoulder, "hmm, so as not to give him any more trouble, I guess."
The lock is unlocked.
You sighing with relief as you let go of the handle, moving towards the chair instead of sitting on it, you sat on the floor, shaking the fabric of your [pants/skirt], resting your head against the handrest of the colorful chair.
...
...
...
...
When you lift your vision forward you can see pale bluish hairy legs, you recognized it happily letting out a gasp, "Barnaby! Y-You're here, glad see yo-" Not until his head hit the ground.
Your body froze when your friend's head collided with your knee, and you automatically fell backwards until you collided with Wally's nightstand. There was silence except for the rapid sounds of your heart pounding in your ears and the sweat dripping from your chin.
*KNOCK-KNOCK*
You looked in the windows with a shocked look, the pupils were dilated focused on you.
*KNOCK-KNOCK*
"Ah..uh, what? Home, what-..what's going on?" you mumbled.
Your gaze went to Barnaby's furry head and his eyes were blank with hardly any emotion in it. His hairy fat body of him completely standing in the room. That surprised you how he could balance his corpse stuffed.
"Hey, Barnaby? M-Mate?" You were too nervous to form words before the strange appearance of your funny big friend.
You frowned as you put your palms over your face.
"W-what should I say in these kinds of situations?"
You thought about it while you walked slowly, the look of this living house did not stop following your step even with an uncertainty that your graceful body felt at the same time the chills rhymed, you trembled.
You felt bad to neglect a friend who made jokes in the neighborhood. Remaining Barnaby's head and you crouched down to the height of him. You took his heavy head in your trembling hands, uncertainly inspecting his furry face until you looked at a hole that had been cut in his neck.
There was a big hole in it, there were eyes until they became aware of your presence, making you scream, you rested his decapitated head against your chest.
You hugged his big head for comfort, letting his floppy ear brush against your hair and cold cheeks.
His gaze was empty looking behind you.
"Barnaby…what happened to you?" You whispered as your arms trembled, "Hey..wake up, t-this isn't funny."
The big puppy's corpse began to move towards you, slow but clumsy causing you to freeze and take steps back with your friend's head still clinging to your chest. An idea came to your head when your friend were about 3 meters away and you extended the decapitated head of your furry friend into the air.
It was risky but hopefully it was worth it.
"Do you want me..give it back to you?"
And his corpse stopped-almost leaning down to your height.
When he slowly approached you to catch you as a creature on defense ready to be eaten with their eyes on the hole opened, you could in his fluffly hands were connected with strings from above the ceiling.
Not until a few seconds, seeing how those ropes broke, he fell to the ground almost making you shudder.
You put his head on the floor carefully and went to help lift his flyffly body up but he was a little heavy, "You'll be fine..just-" You forced him to push from the big chest so that he was leaning against the wall on the floor sitting, "A-and I think that…can I do this…"
His decapitated neck was right up to your head.
You took his head and tried to put it in his place.
"I-I think there you are as good as new-" It fell off.
"Argk-!" You sacrificed yourself to throw yourself on the ground to catch him even though he was a little bigger than you.
You didn't realize your ears fell deaf as you didn't hear the sound of the doorknob turning and the lights from the windows in Home's eyes closed.
You were getting up until then you fell back to the ground with your face hitting the ground after feeling something hitting your back and pair of arms with a colorful jacket of three even colors in your field to then surround your shoulders and the head of the comedian dog slipped out of your hands.
"Neighbor, there you are, I haven't seen you for a while."
You grew cold when you felt his breath against the back of your hair and turned your head towards the puppet that was curled up on your back as a pillow.
He looked different from what you were used to seeing him with his typical blue vest white shirt an open button exposing his neck with his scarf freely like wings and rainbow pants to be something formal, apart from the mentioned vest he wore the same shape but his red scarf in a bow tie, you noticed that he had crosses on his cufflinks on the sleeves of his white shirt and pants a pale brown shade and not forget to mention his white and black dress shoes.
He rested his elbow on the side of your back as he rested his face in his hand.
"What's the matter, neighbor? Didn't I fix my appearance well?"
You came out of your trance and looked at him with a lost look and zero confidence in your words, "N-no, nothing happened." You turned to look at Barnaby's head that was lying on the ground in front of you a few meters away from you, "You look…outstanding today."
Words were hard to pronounce.
"Mhmm…" You could hear him humming happily at your praise surely and a song you had never heard before and you were getting up but he wouldn't let you, you tried but the attempt was in vain. Your body trembled automatically as you swallowed and take some breathings to trying to stay calm, you felt the throbbing in your ears.
"..d-didn't we have a picnic this afternoon with our neighbors?" You changed the topic and turned to look at him, masking the uncertainty of the situation you found yourself looking at him with a small smile, but your eyes did not match the smile.
That he doesn't see his best friend dead there in his own living room?"
You thought.
Why does he look so..calm in situations like this?
He began to play with the strands of your hair that were dipping at the nape of your neck, "Well, why of course, neighbor..but, I remembered that I had something else to do, I had to politely deny" He sighed as he slowly shook his head as a no, "Same goes for you, neighbor."
Confused, you looked at him, "Why? I-I was going to go there anyway." You looked between him and the door opened, something doubtful, "if it's because I came into your house without you notified, I apologize in advance."
Wally laughed between each point of his words, "Silly, It has nothing to do with you getting into House, honestly, it's very considerate of you to come visit us."
The atmosphere was tense and you felt the grip on your shoulders and the sensation of being watched seemed to be constant, making you paralyzed.
The monotonous words of the friendly puppet gave you chills.
.
.
.
"There's just a little loose end I need to take care of."
.
.
.
"But...you're too kind to be part of home, so..."
He got off your back, sitting next to you while you stretched a little from the weight of before, still dazed, seeing Barnaby on the floor next to his corpse.
"It's better if we keep you here together, also, I made us a scrapbook! It’s mostly pictures of you, but we’ll take more, we can paint together again and again, eat apples together, tell stories together..."
The neighborhood leader kept rambling.
...Huh? Keep me?
You thought.
You blinked, checking to see if you weren't in the clouds or because the pain of your head you had before after passing out and waking up to a mysterious place from one of your neighbors.
"-and what do you think, neighbor?"
You didn't hear what he was saying the whole time.
You gulped, "But, what about our friends? Frank? Howdy? Julie? A-and-"
*CREEEK*
"...It's needless, neighbor, besides, I don’t care about anyone else. You’re all I have, so kind for your good and us, neighbor."
You stunned about his words.
There was no expression on his face but his pupils were upset, devastated, it even seemed like he was fighting, he just limited himself to lightly squeezing the fabric of your shirt.
"You...can’t do anything to have them, save them, it was our decision whether they live or die, cruel, terrible people live out there. Is it so bad to be away from them?"
*KNOCK-KNOCK*
A sharp noise fell from the floor where they were present in front, an arm of rag sticking out fluffy cotton had been torn off from below.
*CREEEK*
You were terrifying to react now.
"It’s pretty, right? I hope you think so, too. You’ll be seeing it a lot more than I will, neighbor." You didn't have the courage to fight, you had a feeling that if you fought, your life would be cut off by an entity from the living house.
Home.
You felt that the floor began to turn to mud. Wally hugged your entire being and his head rested on your chest listening to the noises in your chest as if there were a heart.
Your mind was clouded by the darkness.
A pair of eyes watched as you descended deeper into the subterranean surface.
"But don't worry, neighbor..you’ll be safe as long as you stay with me, with us."
Strings created around you as you softy landed on the ground, binding you from the underground floor to only darkness.
Wally could perfectly see the darkness just to hold you against him.
"...You’re just so kind. it makes me want to keep you all to myself forever to admire you the way you are, neighbor."
Just like a lost treasure to be cherished in his heart.
Thank you for reading!
I'm back from the dead, sorry, I had a lot of time off the platform to rest but I can't promise if I'll upload WH fanfic stuff something again.
#welcome home x reader#wally darling#fanfic#welcome home#yandere wally darling#old design wally darling
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I’ve spent nine months perfecting my 40th birthday party playlist and I think I have it. It’s split up into kinda eras/musical obsessions of my life and songs that mean a lot to me/remind me of people no longer in my life, so here we are...
Seven Nation Army - The White Stripes
I Predict a Riot - Kaiser Chiefs
Apply Some Pressure - Maximo Park
Banquet - Bloc Party
Michael - Franz Ferdinand
Mirror Kissers - The Cribs
Take Me Out - Franz Ferdinand
Somebody Told Me - The Killers
Fell In Love With a Girl - The White Stripes
One Step Beyond - Madness
The Sound of the Suburbs - The Members
Jilted John - Jilted John
Anarchy in the UK - Sex Pistols
Teenage Kicks - The Undertones
Ever Fallen in Love - Buzzcocks
Going Underground - The Jam
Rock the Casbah - The Clash
Once in a Lifetime - Talking Heads
It Doesn’t Have to Be This Way - The Blow Monkeys
Everybody Wants to Rule the World - Tears for Fears
The Look of Love - ABC
Wishing I Was Lucky - Wet Wet Wet
Breakout - Swing Out Sister
Yes Sir, I Can Boogie - Baccara
Dancing Queen - ABBA
Best of My Love - The Emotions
Got To Be Real - Cherly Lynn
Never Too Much - Luther Vandross
Boogie Wonderland - Earth, Wind & Fire
You To Me Are Everything - The Real Thing
The Snake - Al Wilson
Move On Up - Curtis Mayfield
Land of 1000 Dances - Wilson Pickett
Do I Love You - Frank Wilson
Get Ready - The Temptations
Reach Out, I’ll Be There - Four Tops
My Girl - The Temptations
I Can’t Help Myself - Four Tops
This Old Heart of Mine - The Isley Brothers
Ain’t No Mountain High Enough - Diana Ross
I Wanna Dance With Somebody - Whitney Houston
Respectable - Mel & Kim
London Nights - London Boys
When Will I Be Famous? - Bros
Never Gonna Give You Up - Rick Astley
You’ll Never Step Me From Loving You - Sonia
Too Many Broken Hearts - Jason Donovan
Love in the First Degree - Bananarama
Venus - Bananarama
One For Sorrow - Steps
All That She Wants - Ace of Base
Love to Hate You - Erasure
Love Shack - The B-52′s
Sweat (A La La La La Song) - Inner Circle
Baby I Love Your Way - Big Mountain
Shine - Aswad
Would I Lie To You? - Charlie & Eddie
Return of the Mack - Mark Morrison
Save Our Love - Eternal
Stay - Eternal
Naked - Louise
Maybe - Emma Bunton
Mi Chico Latino - Geri Halliwell
I Turn To You - Melanie C
Out of Your Mind - True Steppers, Dane Bowers, Victoria Beckham
I Want You Back - Mel B, Missy Elliott
Re-Rewind - Artful Dodger, Craig David
Scandalous - Mis-Teeq
Flowers - Sweet Female Attitude
I Know Where It’s At - All Saints
Never Ever - All Saints
Stay - Lisa Loeb
I Quit - Hepburn
Drop Dead Gorgeous - Republica
Trouble - Shampoo
Bitch - Meredith Brooks
You Oughta Know - Alanis Morissette
Celebrity Skin - Hole
Weak - Skunk Anansie
Don’t Speak - No Doubt
Torn - Natalie Imbruglia
I Want It That Way - Backstreet Boys
Crazy For You - Let Loose
Love Me For a Reason - Boyzone
Keep On Movin - Five
Be the First to Believe - A1
Love Here I Come - Bad Boys Inc
I’m a Man, Not a Boy - North & South
House of Love - East 17
Let’s Get Ready to Rhumble - PJ & Duncan
If I Give You My Number - PJ & Duncan
I Should Be So Lucky - Kylie Minogue
Never Too Late
Step Back in Time
Better the Devil You Know
Spinning Around
Can’t Get Blue Monday Out of My Head - Kylie, New Order
Girls & Boys - Blur
Connection - Elastica
Smells Like Teen Spirit - Nirvana
Creep - Radiohead
Song 2 - Blur
Your Woman - White Town
Bitter Sweet Symphony - The Verve
Change - Lightning Seeds
Trash - Suede
A Girl Like You - Edwyn Collins
Disco 2000 - Pulp
Common People - Pulp
Country House - Blur
Mulder and Scully - Catatonia
World in Motion - New Order
Three Lions - Baddiel, Skinner & The Lightning Seeds
Wannabe - Spice Girls
Say You’ll Be There
Who Do You Think You Are?
Spice Up You Life
Stop
Old Before I Die - Robbie Williams
Rock DJ
Millennium
No Regrets
Angels
Babe - Take That
Once You’ve Tasted Love
It Only Takes a Minute
I Found Heaven
Could It Be Magic
Everything Changes
Pray
Relight My Fire
Two Can Play That Game - Bobby Brown
I Luv U Baby - The Original
Don’t Give Me Your Life - Alex Party
Never Let Her Slip Away - Undercover
When I’m Good and Ready - Sybil
Ride on Time - Black Box
The Rhythm of the Night - Corona
No Limit - 2 Unlimited
Get A Way - Maxx
The Key The Secret - Urban Cookie Collective
U Sure Do - Strike
I Breathe Again - Adam Rickitt
Spaceman - Babylon Zoo
Red Alert - Basement Jaxx
Feel It - The Tamperer, Maya
Freed From Desire - Gala
Mr Vain - Culture beat
What Is Love? - Haddaway
Gypsy Woman - Crystal Waters
Finally - CeCe Peniston
Free - Ultra Nate
Dreamer - Livin Joy
Let Me Be Your Fantasy - Baby D
I’m Alive - Stretch n Vern
Set You Free - N-Trance
disco tits - Tove Lo
Coconuts - Kim Petras
Outside - George Michael
It’s a Sin - Pet Shop Boys
Relax - Frankie Goes to Hollywood
Gimme Gimme Gimme - ABBA
Total Eclipse of the Heart - Bonnie Tyler
Let’s Dance - David Bowie
Temptation - Heaven 17
Gold - Spandau Ballet
Karma Chameleon - Culture Club
Club Tropicana - Wham
I’m Still Standing - Elton John
Uptown Girl - Billy Joel
Young at Heart - The Bluebells
Come On Eileen - Dexys Midnight Runners
I Could Be So Good For You - Dennis Waterman
Amarillo - Tony Christie
Delilah - Tom Jones
The Best - Tina Turner
All Around the World - Lisa Stansfield
The Time of My Life - Billy Medley, Jennifer Warnes
Especially For You - Kylie, Jason
Perfect Moment - Martine McCutcheon
Chains - Tina Arena
A Design For Life - Manic Street Preachers
Yes - McAlmont & Butler
I Do This All The Time - Self Esteem
Zombie - The Cranberries
This Charming Man - The Smiths
Paranoid Android - Radiohead
The Wonder of You - Elvis Presley
Don’t Look Back in Anger - Oasis
Baby I Love You - The Ramones
#it runs at 12hr 15mins lol#it was over 14hrs#i typed this up bc i'm feeling anxious for some reason and#needed something to do#i say a party there will be 3 people here#my husband my sister and my bff
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Restless Year - Chapter 8
(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)
(Prior Chapter) (Next Chapter)
(Read on AO3)
Chapter 8 - Dreams
December 1989
Chicago is cold. It’s not like this is a revelation to Eddie, but the difference in the way Indiana feels in December and the way the Windy City is pummeling him is stark. He reluctantly traded his combat boots for what Steve calls ‘bean boots’ and if it wasn’t for his feet being so damn warm he’d be cursing Steve for giving him prep clothes.
He’s been anticipating the shop being a bit nightmarish in the run-up to the holidays, but the stream of customers is almost never-ending and the stock is running low. It got to the point that Eddie started calling other managers in the area to see how they were faring, and whether or not they could make tentative agreements to send customers hunting for particular finds to each other.
Walking past the counter where Ezra is explaining to a mother why getting her thirteen-year-old a Frank Zappa album is a bad idea, he’s stopped by Jamie who is holding the phone up for him. “Eddie, someone named Max is calling? I asked for a last name and she audibly rolled her eyes.”
“Right, put her on hold and I’ll take it in the back. S’one of my kids,” he explains. The amount of adopted kids Eddie has is a running joke in the shop. All the staff know Dustin, but over the months, different calls have come in from the rest of the party, some of them asking for Eddie by name while others have straight up asked for Dad. It led to the staff comparing notes and swapping names until Eddie just put a group photo on his desk.
“Red I assume the world is burning because you’re calling me instead of Steve. What’s up?”
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re dramatic? Like, have a normal phone conversation. Not everything is a campaign,” she quips and Eddie knows that she’s probably about to start a conversation she’d been avoiding for a bit.
“Fine, fine. Let me start over. Smash Records, Eddie Munson, manager speaking! Hello, Maxine, to what do I owe the pleasure!”
“I hope that causes you to get a rash. That sounded so plastic, ugh.” Max’s distaste is obvious and Eddie can picture her screwed-up face perfectly. “Look I’m calling because I’m coming to stay with you and Steve the day after Christmas until school starts up again. I already bought my bus ticket.”
It’s moments like this Eddie semi-regrets Steve’s open invitation to the kids. Steve probably thought they’d ask ahead of time, whereas Eddie knew better. Eddie knows Max must be telling not asking for a reason, so he lets it go. A quick glance at his calendar shows that Wayne will be gone by then, so they’ll have space.
“Sounds like a good time. I could use a hand at the shop. Any particular reason you’re coming to crash with us instead of staying with Lucas or El? Or do you just miss us that much?”
“I’ve never been to Chicago and I’ve got the time off, so I figured why not?”
Why Eddie expected a straight answer, he’ll never know. He assumes it has something to do with not wanting to be around her mother for longer than she needs to and escaping the looks of concern she’ll get if she lingers around Hawkins. But those are assumptions Steve will have to suss out when she arrives.
“I’ll let Steve know tonight and one of us will get you from the station on the 26th. And if you play your cards right I’ll let you have a recommendation space on the staff shelf.”
“Your shop would be lucky to display my choices, so really I’m doing you a favor,” she counters and Eddie can’t help but chuckle in amusement.
“Well, I’ve got to get back to work but can’t wait to see you Red.”
“Thanks, Eddie...and tell Steve thanks too.”
Before Eddie can say bye the line cuts and he likes to think his own children won’t be so ill-mannered. “Ugh, that sounded like Steve...”
Over dinner that night Eddie lets Steve know about Max’s plan and her delivery of it.
“Of course, she just up and bought a ticket. Do you actually think she’d ask and chance us saying no? That’s not how Max operates.”
“I dunno, that seems more like a Mike move than a Max one, is all,” Eddie thinks, twirling his spaghetti around his fork.
“Ah, see, there is the difference. Mike would just up and buy a ticket to come stay with us because he feels entitled to do it. He wouldn’t actually come to see both of us, just you and the city. But Max? Max bought a ticket and just told us to lessen the chance of rejection. Because for all the bravado Mayfield has, she’s still the kid who’d rather sit on your steps listening to you play guitar than go home. I’m just happy we can still be that for her.”
Eddie stopped eating midway through Steve’s analysis and just looks at his mate with fondness. For all of Steve’s complaints about how much the kids of their pack irritate him, it’s times like this that demonstrate his love. It really shows just how much effort Steve has put in over the years to make himself a safe haven for the kids.
“You know, I really ought to make a mom out of you already with how well you do with them.” Eddie enjoys the blush that creeps up Steve’s neck at the suggestion and glances over to the bedroom.
“I’m not stopping you Eds.”
*
There are too many yentas in this deli. Sure he got a few stares at his old place in South Bend, but these stares are making Eddie think it's time to suck it up and learn how to cook his own brisket. Steve put in the order a few weeks ago but is currently in bed wiped out from finals swallowing tums, so Eddie offered to make the trek out with Wayne.
He’s leaning against the back wall waiting for his order to come out while Wayne mutters about having braved the L. “I still don’t know why we couldn’t have just taken your car,” he grumbles, looking a little worse for wear.
“Wayne, you served in Vietnam, but public transit is where you draw the line?” The resounding silence gives him all the answers he needs.
“So how's married life treatin’ ya?” Wayne asks after some time, and Eddie can’t help but smile.
“It’s good. Not a lot has changed, which I think is for the better. Had a bit of a rough patch a few months ago but turns out we just needed to get our heads out of our asses.”
Wayne nods. “It’s good that you can admit you were wrong. I remember you had trouble doing that growing up.”
“Who says I was in the wrong?” The quirked brow from Wayne makes Eddie tsk. “I really don’t appreciate that he’s become your favorite nephew you know? Stevie can do no wrong in your eyes now that you know he’s nothing like his father.”
“Oh no, I’m sure your boy can do plenty wrong. But it takes a particular kind of person to light a fire under your ass and get you moving. Now, look at you. Living on your own, running a fine store. Next thing you know you’ll be calling me to tell me you’re going to be a dad.” Wayne chuckles a bit at the last part, and Eddie scuffs the floor with his boot.
“I mean would that be so far-fetched?”
“You got something to tell me?”
Eddie shakes his head and feels Wayne’s gaze on him. Their heart-to-hearts are infrequent. Their relationship is built between the lines of their words and usually, that’s fine with Eddie. It’s just, right now he needs a little bit more.
“I don’t think it’d be that far-fetched. You’re not your old man Eddie, if that’s what you need to hear. My brother only made two good decisions in his life. Marrying your mom and having you. You might have his name but you ain’t him at all.” Wayne claps his shoulder and pulls Eddie to his side for a hug.
“Harrington! Order for Harrington!”
Eddie moves from Wayne’s embrace and goes to grab their order when he sees Wayne head towards the door.
“Where are you going?”
“To get a cab. I’m not chancing that brisket to the train.”
*
They had one day between visits. It was the twenty-fifth and the shop was closed like most other places in Chicago, which lent itself to a lazy morning.
A year ago getting Eddie out of bed was like pulling teeth, but now the alpha finds himself up first most mornings for work. The upside to his new sleep schedule is on days like this he can just stay in bed and admire Steve. His mate is still sleeping, hugging a pillow to his chest. The t-shirt he wore to bed is one of Eddie’s older Anthrax shirts, threadbare with a few holes, but Steve refuses to let Eddie toss it. For as much as his mate doesn’t nest, he hoards Eddie’s old band shirts like a dragon with a treasure.
Rolling over, Eddie presses against Steve’s back, burying his nose in his hair. Ever since their bonding, Steve’s scent has morphed. It’s richer, almost spiced, and Eddie can’t get enough. He wonders if he also smells like this but he can’t tell. It’s a question for awake Steve. Right now he’s enjoying the sleepy Steve who is turning over to press into Eddie’s chest on instinct. After the night Steve flinched away from him, Eddie appreciates everytime Steve seeks him out. Today is no exception.
Eddie plays with Steve’s hair and traces his hand down his back, just basking in the morning light until he notices flurries falling outside the window. Watching the snowflakes dance in the wind, Eddie wonders if Hawkins is getting snow. El runs around outside every time it does and he hopes that she’s waking up to that Christmas morning. ‘They deserve the chance to be kids’ he thinks and it sounds an awful lot like Steve.
He watches the snowfall until Steve’s lips start to kiss his neck, nipping gently at Eddie’s faux-mark. The moment the tattoo finished healing, Steve found any excuse he could to touch it, be it with his fingers, lips, teeth, or what have you. The bond has brought out Steve’s possessive side and Eddie can’t help but indulge it like right now.
“Making sure it’s still there baby?” he whispers, scratching at the nape of Steve’s neck. His question just earns him a nod as Steve’s affection trails up his jaw until they’re kissing. Eddie turns into Steve’s embrace and trades lazy kisses with him. The softness of the morning makes Eddie want to go back in time and slap his past self for thinking he would never have this. That his own self-doubt almost kept him from having Steve Harrington in his bed every morning and every night. Because waking up to this feeling beats any high Eddie has ever had.
When the sunlight becomes too bright for them to ignore the morning, Eddie makes the first move to roll out of bed. “Breakfast? I’ll make it.”
“That means I’m getting pancakes because that is the only thing you can somehow make.” Steve’s face is fond as he looks over at Eddie, and he’ll take the teasing.
“Yes, I am offering flour pancakes because we have enough potato ones in the freezer to last the rest of winter.”
“Will you ever let that go,” Steve groans, and Eddie dives back onto the bed to tackle Steve, pulling his reddening face away from the pillow he’s trying to bury it in.
“Absolutely not. I’ve never seen someone so determined to get latkes right. They’re potatoes, Steve. Hash browns.”
“I see how it is. You don’t appreciate my trial and error process. And to think next year I was going to start attempting to braise brisket. I should just stick to my waspy recipes.”
That threat makes Eddie start kissing Steve’s face all over as he begs for forgiveness. “I never said anything. In fact, thank you for taking this so seriously and I look forward to you perfecting your brisket recipe. Now let me cook for you. Do you want coffee?”
Steve’s face scrunches at the offer. “No, I don’t think I could stomach it this morning. Besides, I’ll -”
Steve stops mid-sentence and Eddie follows his gaze to see Steve looking out the window. “It’s snowing.” The statement is so simple but Eddie sort of likes proof that Steve’s been so wrapped up in their world that he hadn’t noticed the one going on outside.
“I wonder if it’s snowing in Hawkins. El would love it,” Steve voices, and Eddie can’t help but laugh in agreement.
“She really would.”
#myfics#steddie#steve x eddie#steddie fics#steve harrington#eddie munson#omegaverse#omega steve harrington#alpha eddie munson#six kids and a winnebago
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It tightens its grip when things go unsaid
A soft (??) 5x14 coda built on like a dozen posts I saw on my dash this morning. It sure went. A direction.
“Oh my god, you kept this?”
Eddie freezes in place, paused with his hands and the broccolini under the frigid water of the tap.
“Kept what?” he asks, attempting for casual. It had been a lot easier to maintain a calm disinterest before Frank but as it turns out, part of getting better was giving up playing numb.
Buck pulls the drawing off the fridge, and Eddie squeezes his eyes shut. Gives himself that much longer to deny it.
“Eddie,” Buck prompts, and there’s laughter in his voice but there’s something else too. Something softer, gentler.
“It was — Chris said I—” and he pauses again. Because yes, Chris had said he should keep Buck’s heart drawing, but that wasn’t why Eddie had done it. And he’s spent enough time filtering his feelings towards Buck through Chris. “I liked it.”
Buck snorts and pins it back under the magnets. “Makes me feel bad. I shoulda drawn you a better one.”
“I didn’t draw you one at all,” Eddie replies which is probably nonsensical.
“It’s not like I’ve got a fridge to hang it on anymore anyway,” Buck points out.
He doesn’t. Not with the way he’s been sleeping on Eddie’s couch since he ceded his apartment in the breakup. He’s been in Eddie’s house for two weeks now and Eddie can’t fathom how Buck has missed the drawing so far.
It’s later when they’re on shift, and everyone else is passed out, that Eddie gets the idea. They don’t exactly keep craft supplies around the station, but he finds some paper and a pencil and by the time Bobby wakes up to come get started on breakfast, Eddie’s gone a bit overboard. Partway into the exercise, he’d noticed one of Hen’s surgical textbooks lying in the loft and flipped it to the relevant page, and as it turns out, the art classes he’d taken in high school — the ones he’d insisted were just because he was crushing on a girl, which made them acceptable — hadn’t quite worn off.
The piece of art he’s scribbled down in graphite isn’t quite an anatomical heart and it isn’t quite a photorealistic depiction from the textbook and it isn’t quite the cartoony simplicity Buck had given him. It’s not nearly so digestible and easy to accept. He thinks the thing he’s supposed to do with something like this is being it to his therapist the way a pet cat brings a dead animal, but he doesn’t. Instead, he avoids Bobby’s questioning gaze and takes it downstairs. He tapes it to the inside door of their locker, and forgets about it seconds later because the bell goes.
He doesn’t think about it again until the second Buck opens their locker after their shift is done. He pauses, head tilting sideways, and Eddie considers ducking behind the shelves and hiding his face in the stacks of towels.
“I didn’t know you could draw,” Buck says. “This is, like, cool.”
“What?” Eddie asks.
“It’s cool,” Buck says. He gently unpeels the tape from the locker and just stares down at the drawing. “Would it be weird if I got this as a tattoo?”
“If you got it as—seriously?”
Buck looks guileless when he lifts his gaze to meet Eddie’s eye. “I don’t have a fridge.”
Eddie almost points out that this is why he’d put it in the locker, but something in Buck’s face stops him. He almost points out that Buck’s skin is not interchangeable with a fridge, but he doesn’t do that either. It’s the visual representation of Eddie’s still battered but healing heart and Buck wants to ink it onto his own flesh.
“If you want,” Eddie says finally. “But I won’t be offended if you change your mind by the time you actually get in to see an artist.”
Buck grins but it’s too soft around the eyes to be a real flippant smile. “I won’t.”
#the title is from the song invisible thread#which is the most buddie song ever#helped by being written and performed by a married gay couple#9-1-1#911fic#buddie#buddie fic#eddie diaz#evan buckley#the ghost ship scribbles
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a little 5x14 coffee talk ❤
---------------------------------
Buck comes back with coffee. Eddie’s up: sitting on the couch, hunched forward with his elbows on his knees. There’s a mug on the table in front of him and beside it is Bobby, sitting on the table’s edge, head tilted to Eddie's eye level. They look up when Buck walks in, and he stops.
“I, uh, I thought you could use this, but yeah, of course, you made some, duh. I wasn’t thinking.”
Bobby smiles. “Sure you were. You were thinking of Eddie.” He reaches for his keys. “And your timing is perfect, because I have to get going. I’ve got some errands to run.”
Eddie scrambles to his feet. “God, yeah, I’m s—” Bobby eyes him until he swallows the word. “Thanks for coming over.”
Bobby pats his good shoulder. “Any time. Just remember what I said.”
Eddie nods.
As Bobby walks by Buck says, “I got you one too, d’you want it?”
“Thanks, Buck, I’m good. Split it with Eddie. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The front door closes, and they’re alone again.
Eddie drops back onto the sofa, and Buck puts the carrier down beside the two ignored mugs. He takes Eddie’s cup out and sets it in front of him.
“I got you that cinnamon kind you like, but I didn’t put anything in it. I figure we have all that stuff here.”
Eddie's looking at the Evan scribbled in black Sharpie across the side.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “Yeah, we do.”
Buck waits until Eddie picks up the coffee and takes a careful sip. He looks up, squinting in the light.
“S’good. Thanks.”
Buck smiles.
“Hey, uh, I hope you’re not freaked out that Bobby was here. Chris and I wanted to let you sleep, but I thought if you woke up and he was gone that would freak you out, so I asked Bobby to come hang out, you know, just in case.”
Eddie’s leaning on his elbows again, cup between his palms, staring at nothing. “Honestly I’m just surprised I slept through all that.”
“Yeah, well, you needed it.”
Eddie sips the coffee again. “I’m gonna put a little sugar in this.”
Buck follows him into the kitchen. He leans against the fridge and watches Eddie dig around for the sugar, pop the lid off the cup, dump in a couple spoonfuls.
“When’s your appointment with Frank?”
“Four.”
“It’s not even nine yet. Why don’t you save that and go back to sleep?”
He expects an instant dismissal, a waved hand, that squinty face Eddie makes before he lies that he’s fine. Instead Eddie puts the spoon down and looks out the kitchen window.
“You know, cause I, I could stay here and make sure you get up in time, and I could pick Chris up and watch him till you get back.”
The sharp morning sunlight leeches Eddie’s pallor to a bleak gray, turns the smudges beneath his eyes into dark rings.
“I could call Carla,” he says. His voice is vague, almost like he’s talking to himself.
“Why? I’m already here. And you don’t have to pay me.”
Eddie's mouth crooks into something like a grin.
“Okay.”
“...Okay? Really? You’re not gonna argue?”
Eddie looks down at the coffee cup, carefully replaces the lid. He sets it aside and crosses his arms.
“I’ve known guys who had nightmares. Soldiers. I’ve seen it. It’s just me and Christopher here. I couldn't let…” He rubs his eyes again, pinches the bridge of his nose.
It dawns on Buck then, all at once.
“You were afraid you might hurt him.”
Eddie nods.
“So you just stopped sleeping.”
“But since the other night — since you’ve been here, helping with Chris, it’s been...” He clears his throat, turns his head to look out the window again. “I think I can sleep when you’re here.”
Buck’s throat tightens. He presses his lips together to stop their trembling.
Eddie looks out the window a moment longer, then turns a little too abruptly. “So yeah, I think I will lie down.”
Buck smiles.
They go back into the living room, and Buck gathers all the coffee accouterments to take to the kitchen. When he returns Eddie is closing the blinds, and the room goes warmly dim.
“I was gonna crash on the couch again, but if you want to watch TV I can go to Christopher’s room.”
“No, wait, hang on.” Buck takes off his jacket, digs around in the pocket, smiles in triumph. “Yeah.” He pulls out his earbuds and holds them up. “Problem solved.”
Eddie’s mouth crooks again. “Problem solved.”
He flops down onto his back on the couch, grabs a pillow to hold against his chest. Buck takes a seat on the floor, leaning against the couch near Eddie’s feet. Eddie hands him the remote, then rolls over to curl onto his side, clutching the pillow with both arms.
“All good?”
“Mm.”
His eyes are closed, but his grip on the pillow hasn’t eased. Buck’s familiar enough with the process now to know that part happens last. He waits until Eddie’s breathing slows, then speaks softly into the quiet.
“Eddie?”
“Hm?”
“What did Bobby say?”
“Mm?”
“Before he left. He told you to remember what he said.”
Eddie’s eyes open in the dim light.
“Shit, wait, no — that’s none of my business. Sorry. I don’t know why I asked you that.”
Eddie doesn’t answer. He looks at Buck, blinking slowly, eyes heavy with encroaching sleep. Then he closes them again, and his voice is barely audible over Buck’s beating heart.
“He said to let the people I love take care of me.”
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Before the Night Fades, 8.6k - POV Outsider on Buck/Eddie double date shenanigans (AO3)
“I have a bottle of champagne, four champagne flutes, one engagement ring to go into one of those champagne flutes, and a note to deliver it all to table 34 with dessert,” Tomas explains, wide-eyed, throwing his hand back to the prep station where said champagne is waiting on ice next to four flutes and a small ring box.
“Okay?”
“Okay so there’s two men and two women and I have no idea who’s getting proposed to. I’m not even 100% on who came with who."
---
Or, EddieAna and BuckTaylor double date and it ruins everyone's night.
The nearly-post-COVID return to normal rush is going exactly as well as management at the Tilted Cactus expected it would, which is to say it’s going as miserably as the waitstaff at the Tilted Cactus expected it would.
The owners lost a lot of money to lockdowns, diminished capacity and the general (extremely warranted) paranoia of co-mingling in public during an international plague for the sake of overpriced appetizers. And despite accurately predicting the business would boom once the doors re-opened, management didn’t feel the need to account for more staff to serve said business.
So despite owing $34k on her student loans (that’s after a generous gift from both her parents and her maternal grandmother), barely being able to afford rent in LA, and the utter lack of career prospects, Mere is taking a break in the backroom, next to the dirty mop bucket, mentally running through her finances before she officially gives her notice.
She can’t quit, she knows that.
Turns out leaving New Zealand for LA with nothing but a dream and the idea that if Taika could do it so could she was not the most future-proof plan she could have come up with. The starving artist thing was so 2010.
But Mere’s made up her mind. She’s not made for this abuse. This is bullshit. She’s going to pack up, go home, and you know, do...something else. She’ll figure it out.
Mere pulls herself up from her indelicate crouch on some empty crates and goes in search of a piece of paper — or a fucking napkin, who cares — on which to write up her official resignation.
“No, in section 3A,” she hears Tomas fake-whisper. He’s one of the few new hires to grace these hallowed halls and still thinks it’s disrespectful to talk shit about customers even in the backroom. Umida, a five year veteran of this distinguished profession, has been trying to disabuse him of this particular nonsense.
“Where the fuck is section 3A, Tommy? We have sections 1 to 9, we don’t have any letters.”
“The new sidewalk sections have letters, to distinguish them from inside.”
“You mean sections 10 and 11?”
“...Mr. Peters said they’re using letters.”
“Mr. Peters can swallow my entire ass. The sidewalk sections are literally right outside the door from 9, why would they not be called 10 and 11?”
“Or ‘Hell On Earth’ and ‘Kill Me Please’, as we call them colloquially,” Mere offers, startling Tomas as she pushes through the swinging door she’d been hiding behind. Patio dining is highly encouraged and an excellent way to dine if one has patios. The Tilted Cactus does not have patios. It has a temporary license to put tables on the dirty sidewalk outside their restaurant, where waitstaff get to weave around pedestrians, dogs, and carts like they’re completing an obstacle course.
“Yeah, those work,” Umida agrees, emphasizing her point with a dispirited index finger in Mere’s direction.
“Okay, whatever,” Tomas says with a pained eye roll. “Can you please just check it out and let me know?”
“What’s happening?” Mere asks. She’s leaving this popsicle stand (ideally, on fire as she walks away slowly into the night) but she’s also starved of both human attention and the inherent drama of the culinary world so she’ll be damned if she misses out on one final showdown.
Tomas takes a breath to steel himself. “I have a bottle of champagne, four champagne flutes, one engagement ring to go into one of those champagne flutes, and a note to deliver it all to table 34 with dessert,” Tomas explains, wide-eyed, throwing his hand back to the prep station where said champagne is waiting on ice next to four flutes and a small ring box.
“Okay?”
“Okay so there’s two men and two women and I have no idea who’s getting proposed to. I’m not even 100% on who came with who.”
“You don’t have gaydar where you come from?” Umida asks in perfect deadpan.
Tomas glares harder, crosses his arms and juts one hip out. “I come from San Francisco. We invented gaydar. I’m saying I’m pretty sure the guys are together, but I’m also pretty sure they’re each with the women they’re sitting next to. So figure that out.”
“Like a double thruple?” Mere asks, now actually becoming curious.
“Like a ‘I don’t know what y’all are smoking this far north but I don’t understand your weird relationship dynamics and I’m still on probation and I can’t lose this job because I can’t move back in with my brother because I will murder him and I can’t be an only child with aging parents in this economy so can you please just go out there and tell me what the fuck is happening so I can throw this ring at the right person and punch out sometime before I ‘accidentally’ fall on the meat clever downstairs?’ kind of situation.”
Umida and Mere share a glance.
“Okay, well, don’t despair, new guy,” Mere says with a pat on his arm. “Save the meat cleaving for the capitalist elite. We got you. Let the pros handle this.”
“What did the note say?” Umida asks. “One ‘e’ or two? We can at least eliminate half of our options.”
Tomas does not check the note to spot whether the note-taker had written ‘fiancé’ or ‘fiancée’. He stares them down and fips the note in his fingers so the text faces them.
“It says ‘finance’.”
“Ah.”
“We’re going to need a more hands-on investigation, then,” Mere announces.
—————————-
Mere goes first, only because Umida was on her way to swap a side dressing for her table when Tomas intercepted her.
Mere carries a jug of water and makes the rounds of the outdoor tables, trying to hold in her visible distaste for the pseudo-patio vibe the owners tried to make happen out here. There’s a bike stand and a taxi stand two feet from where people are trying to have a romantic dinner. Every now and again, the LA traffic gets rowdy and noisy, completely butchering the atmosphere. There’s a shitty speaker funneling in some Frank Sinatra but it really does nothing to help.
But after this mystery is solved, none of this will be her problem anymore.
Like Tomas said, there are two men and two women sitting like cardinal points around a round table. The women are on the north and east ends, the men on the south and west ones. Two of them are brunets, one a redhead, and one a blond. They’re all disgustingly gorgeous.
And that’s all she’s got.
“The ravioli sounds so good,” the brunette woman says, casting a look at the brunet man to her side.
“Yeah, it does,” he says.
“Mm,” the blond man disagrees. “It’s got feta.”
“What’s wrong with feta?” Asks the redheaded woman.
“Absolutely nothing is wrong with feta,” he responds with a superior smile directed at the man next to him who’s preemptively adopting the look of someone ready to hear some bullshit. “Unless you have an underdeveloped palate and are simply overwhelmed by such strong delicacies as a moderately salty cheese.”
“Okay, don’t talk to me about an underdeveloped palate, Pennsylvania,” the other man responds, posturing despite the softness of his eyes.
“Hey, I said nothing to besmirch the great state of Texas. Texas is a wonder of culinary delight. I’m saying you’re...a simple man.”
“Feta’s disgusting and that’s a hill I’m willing to die on,” the brunet says with smug finality, holding the other man’s eyes until they’re both smirking and looking back at their menus.
Well then.
Mere’s a little bummed as she fills the water at table 36. She’d been hoping the mystery would run longer than 2 whole minutes, but these guys are definitely together. So the mystery will only come down to who’s getting eng—
“Thankfully Chris inherited a more refined palate,” the blond man — Pennsylvania — chirps as the last word.
“He did,” the brunette woman chimes in with a playful smile. “He loves my cooking. You both loved that greek salad I made last week, didn’t you? That had feta in it.”
“It did!” the brunet man replies, slipping his hand overtop hers. “And I loved it. So clearly context is a factor.”
Mere almost spills the rest of the water all over the lady at table 38 as she takes in the man and woman mooning at each other. Though if it’s any consolation, the redheaded woman looks as unimpressed as Mere feels.
“Yeah, I have no idea,” Mere reports back to Tomas.
“The redheads are playing footsie under the table now. That’s one couple at least right?” Tomas asks. The two of them are parked behind the bar where they can see through the window outside but the exterior tint prevents anyone outside from seeing them. The bar is still used for pouring drinks but the stools are gone — can’t maintain 6 feet between them — so the staff pretty much have the run of this corner of the restaurant.
“He’s not a redhead,” Mere mutters, looking out the window to catch the action. “It’s like a dark blond. And I don’t know, I’m pretty sure the two brunets are together, but then blond guy’s foot is way into the other guy’s space.” For a moment she’s distracted by just how damn long his legs are. “That’s certainly...familiar.”
“They’re lesbians,” Umida declares when she returns from dropping off plates at table 32.
“They’re lesbians?” Tomas parrots skeptically. “I did not get that vibe.”
“I could see lesbian for the redhead, I think,” Mere says. “Don’t know about the brunette.”
“Lesbians come in all flavours,” Umida informs them haughtily. It’s the start of Pride month and her hijab is held together by an “Ally” pin. “You can’t tell someone’s orientation just by looking at them.”
“But you’ve declared them lesbians,” Mere points out.
“Because lesbians are approaching their table and only lesbians know other lesbians.”
“That’s definitely not true,” Tomas reproaches.
“No, she’s right, lesbians coming up!” Mere watches as two more unfairly gorgeous women approach with two young boys in tow. Honestly, screw LA and their beauty standards. The parties look surprised to see each other, but they clearly know each other well. One of the boys stays with the women, but the other one breaks off to join the table.
“No, I mean you can know lesbians without being a lesbian.”
Umida and Mere ignore him.
“Okay, that’s one of their kids, right?” Umida asks. “Lesbians babysitting for date night?”
“He’s got Pennsylvania’s curls,” Mere agrees. "That's the blond guy, by the way, I think he’s from there. Brunet guy is Texas for the time being."
The boy reaches the table and is pulled into a strong hug by Texas, who then directs him to a hug with the brunette.
“Oh, unexpected.” Mere would have sworn he was a dead ringer for Pennsylvania. “But okay, that confirms the hand-holding I saw. We have a set of parents. And unless this is a super modern table, I don’t see the parents being here on dates with other people.”
“Mm, I don’t know.” Umida dithers. “That’s like an auntie hug, not a parent hug. Like if she is the mom, the kid is not happy with her.”
“Wait,” Tomas says.
The boy is wiggling out of Brunette’s grasp and rounding the table to Pennsylvania who’s waiting with a wide smile and open arms, and instead of letting go after, the boy finagles his way onto Pennsylvania’s lap to steal a breadstick. Pennsylvania reaches into the basket for another breadstick to pass to the little boy still waiting with his moms and Mere’s heart tugs a little.
Texas watches on from across the table with unrestrained fondness. His leg shifts to press against Pennsylvania’s who looks up with a smile.
“Boom, gay dads!” Tomas crows.
“And lesbians,” Umida adds.
“Redhead definitely has no part of this,” Mere notes. The woman is smiling but it’s polite and practised, not warm or welcoming. “I guess the brunets could be siblings maybe? Really close siblings?”
Finally, the babysitters make to leave so Pennsylvania kisses the boy’s temple and guides him back to his feet. Texas presses his own kiss to the boy’s curls as he passes, saying something they can’t make out from behind the glass. Brunette gets only a wave as he leaves.
“Gays and lesbians,” Umida concludes smugly.
“Okay, good,” Tomas sighs with relief. “So we know who the couples are, now who’s gettin—”
“Um,” Mere interrupts, pointing at the table.
Redhead’s foot is making its way up Pennsylvania’s leg and he shoots her a grin.
“For fuck’s sake,” Tomas spits as he walks away.
“Did you even take their order yet?” Mere calls after him. He doesn’t answer.
———-
Mere gets pulled away because now that she’s not quitting in outrage until this table 34 drama is over, she figures she should actually get back to work. Happily, having not seen her for the last 20 minutes, Mikael figured she had left or died and had taken over her section. She agrees to split half the tips with him and lets herself be pulled back into the tide of madness.
“Got it figured yet, Tim-Tam?” she asks when she passes him near the bathrooms.
“The guys are sharing their orders,” he says despondently.
“That’s not that incriminating. I split my orders with people. I’m not about to pay full price to discover if I like something.”
“No,” Tomas glares before gesturing to the window with disgust. “They’re sharing their orders.”
Tomas stalks away to hopefully take an herbal break to calm down and Mere goes back to the window just in time to catch the insanity. Mere feels Umida come up behind her and tries to suppress her shiver when her “what in all that is holy” skates across her bare shoulder.
Pennsylvania has just finished piling some of his spaghetti on Texas’ plate, which is exceedingly normal. But now Pennsylvania is reaching for Texas' burger.
“He didn’t cut that,” Umida notes.
“No, he did not.”
They have pretty messy burgers at Tilted Cactus, ones that are hard to share because if you cut them down the middle they tend to lose structural integrity. Of course, this isn’t a big concern if you’re sharing already-bitten-into burgers. Which these absolute freaks are doing.
“Gays and lesbians,” Umida declares again, the earlier smugness replaced with an air of disgust.
But when Umida walks away, Mere watches Brunette wipe something off Texas’ cheek and frowns. One throuple and redheaded side piece? Maybe?
————
“I’m struggling with lesbians as a theory,” Mere tells Umida the next chance she gets at the pickup counter. “I want to believe, but…”
“Yeah, I’m doubting now too. They’re almost exclusively talking to each other. But then I realized it was more getting-to-know-you conversation and this would be a hell of a weird first date.”
“Huh, so heteros all around?”
“Well, I also caught on that they’re spending all this time talking to each other because the guys are like in their own world. Finishing each others’ —”
“Sandwiches?”
“Exactly,” Umida grins, unexpectedly delighted by the reference. “So I don’t know. I really don’t envy Tommy.”
“Me either.”
“Hey Manish,” Umida yells out to the other side of the pickup window, “I’m picking up for Lenore but she’s got a two-seater, why do I have four dishes here?”
“Because Lenore can’t write for shit,” Mere says, picking up the order slip and squinting at the scrawl. “These are for table 24, not 29. It’s a four-seater.”
“Alright, well I guess you’re helping me, then,” Umida says with a wink.
Umida is fully capable of carrying four dishes on her own but she’s asking Mere to come with her so Mere’s already reaching for the plates, hoping the blush on her cheek can be written off as heat from the kitchen.
————-
During a slow stretch, Mere takes it upon herself to refill water and wine glasses in section 10.
From table 32 she can hear them talking about elementary school workloads.
“Oh, ah, I meant to let you know,” Pennsylvania says to Redhead, sitting up in his seat. “I can’t make it to the movies next Friday, can we move it to the next week? I should know my schedule by Wednesday.”
“Sure,” Redhead says with a hint of bite to her pleasant smile. “But I thought you had Friday off.”
“I do,” Pennsylvania says, his lips curving into a small, excited smile, “but Christopher won his class’ public speaking competition and they’re doing a kind of show of all the winners for the parents, and it’s on Friday.”
Mere moves around table 34 and heads for table 36 next, but catches the looks of discomfort on every face aside from Pennsylvania’s. He doesn’t realize he’s said something wrong, but the rest of them have.
“Isn’t that just during school hours?” Brunette woman asks.
Texas hesitates before saying, “yeah, but we’re taking him to Universal after to celebrate.”
Out of pity, Mere doubles back to table 34 and reaches for his water glass to fill. People tend to keep their drama buckled while the waitstaff is there. And sure enough, Redhead glances up and paints a tense smile on her face.
“Yeah, not a problem. That sounds exciting.”
There’s a bite to her words, and by the way his shoulders tense and his fingers curl more tightly around his fork, Texas seems to have picked up on it.
————-
By the end of the entrees, most of the staff have caught onto Tomas’ predicament and one by one everyone from the table-bussers to the cooks have gone out for a smokeless smoke break to try to be the one to divine what the hell is happening at table 34.
None are successful.
“This isn’t even like a romantic date,” Mani laments. “Like none of them are that dressed up and they’re talking about like natural disasters and shit. I don’t get a proposal vibe from like any of them.”
“Who even goes on a double date to propose? Who does that? It’s so tacky!” Gabby says from behind the bar where she’s helping herself to a quick nip before she heads home.
“Who still thinks the ring in the champagne bit is a good idea, is my question. It’s a choking hazard!” Mere says. “How romantic to start off your engagement with a trip to the ER.”
Tomas ignores them all. He looks about 10 minutes away from saying to hell with his probationary status and drinking the next hour away straight out of the vodka bottle at his elbow. “I know it’s Pride and I should be representing but I could really do with a little heteronormativity right now.”
—————-
Tomas is stalling.
Table 34 asked for dessert, of course, and when he vaguely floated the idea of champagne, Texas had readily agreed, so this is happening. The champagne flutes are lined up on a tray, the champagne in them is warming with every minute that passes, and he is no closer to figuring out what to do.
“What if I put all the glasses in the middle and they have to pick which one they want?”
“Okay but the person getting proposed to tonight likely doesn’t know?” Mikael says.
“What if you pretend you didn’t see the instructions?” Shania pitches. “As if we can ever write stuff down correctly anyway. Just say it said to bring out the champagne but nothing about the ring being in a flute! Just hand it back to the proposer and let them get it done.”
“You think we don’t know who the proposee is but we know who the proposer is?” Tomas bites. “If I knew that, Shania, I could have just called them away with a phone call or something and asked them who to give the flute to.”
“Geez,” Shania exclaims, hopping off the bar counter to walk away. “You try to help…”
“And then there were three,” Mario announces as he comes back from another completely unnecessary round of filling water glasses outside.
Tomas’ head snaps up from where he’d been staring into the countertops. “What?”
They all rush to the window and sure enough: Redhead is gone.
“I didn’t see her come in,” Mere says, almost breathlessly. If she’d come in to use the restroom, they would have seen her.
“No, she’s gone-gone,” Mario supplies. “Said she had to get back to work but I’m pretty sure she just wanted out. That’s the chick from the news, you know?”
“People still watch the news?” Mere wondered aloud.
Tomas tsks. “Redhead was the least probable suspect!”
“Well we can rule out Brunette and Pennsylvania as a couple, right?” Umida asks, waiting briefly for the gathered crowd to nod. “Okay, so we’re down to the brunets together, or Pennsylvania and Texas.”
“Or polyamorous,” Mikael sniffs. Mikael is trying polyamory. He doesn’t know there’s a bet going on how long he’ll last. It’s a fine relationship style to get into but one he and his jealousy and insecurity issues are deeply unsuited for.
“Apologies, Mikael, or polyamorous. So you have...yeah, 3 of 3 options left for that ring,” Umida grimaces.
“Wait!” So-Hee cries. She’s supposed to be hosting at the entrance but COVID-19 protocols mean people don’t show up earlier than 5 minutes before their reservation so the podium isn’t very backed up. “What does the ring look like? That could be a clue, right?”
They look to Tomas, whose face is blank.
“You didn’t look?” Mere accuses him, though to be fair it never occurred to her either.
So-Hee pounces on the deep purple velvet box without waiting for Tomas to answer.
“Please god,” Tomas mumbles, grabbing the box out of her hands and prying it open with almost reckless enthusiasm.
All six members of staff currently on duty at the window crowd around, many heads bumping together to catch a glimpse. The ring nestled in the box has a slim, dainty band with a solitaire diamond jutting out proudly, with filigree details on either side.
“Oh thank sweet baby Jesus, that is a woman’s ring!” Tomas nearly yells.
“It could be a man’s ring,” Umida protests weakly, almost sad to see the drama come to an end.
Mere’s a little put out too if she’s being honest. But even if they couldn’t tell from the design, the sizing is way too small to fit on either of table 34’s men’s fingers, as So-Hee demonstrates by plucking the ring up and sliding it onto her own tiny finger.
“Yeah, get it stuck on your sweaty fingers, So-Hee,” Tomas protests almost hysterically, feeling his win come into danger. He wrestles it back off her finger and shoves it back in the box before taking a deep cleansing breath.
“Okay, I’ve got a dessert course to deliver,” he says, the picture of calm professionalism as if he hasn’t spent the last hour losing his entire shit.
———-
They should disperse then, but like brothers in arms after battle, all of them feel the need to stand guard as Tomas prepares to deliver the goods.
Some of them, like So-Hee, stand because they’ve foolishly become emotionally invested in the upcoming nuptial bliss.
Some of them, like Umida, stand because they fell in love with their version of events and they feel the need to properly mourn for what might have been.
“They’re co-parenting that boy,” Umida grumbles. “We all saw that! They can’t deny that!”
And some of them, like Mere, stand because they really can’t be bothered to get back to work.
But stand together they do as Tomas plops the ring in one flute and carries the tray out.
“Excuse me,” comes a voice off to the side of their group.
So-Hee, ever the consummate people-pleaser, actually turns to take care of the customer. The rest of them stay fixed at the window. “Yes, sir, can I help you?”
“Maybe? I couldn’t help but notice that young man taking some champagne out.”
“Yes, would you like to order a bottle as well?” So-Hee pokes Mikael. “We’d be happy to bring some out to you.”
“Ah, no,” the man says. “Well, yes. But I’ve already ordered some. I called earlier, when I reserved my table.”
Mere stiffens, her sixth sense borne of years of customer service piquing. Beside her, Umida takes note as well.
“I asked that champagne be brought to the table with dessert, and I left a box...one that looks a lot like the one on your counter there. And I’m sure it’s just a coincidence but I couldn’t help but want to make sure it’s not my ring that just went out to that other table.”
Mere’s wide eyes spring to Umida’s.
“Oh my fuck,” Umida whispers.
Then they’re both racing for the door.
“Wrong table, wrong table, wrong table,” Mere mutters under her breath as she dodges a stroller and a dog walker trying to reach Tomas —
“Oh, Edmundo!” Brunette exclaims brightly.
Umida’s hand braces Mere like a soccer mom in a car.
It’s too late now.
There’s nothing they can do but watch this trainwreck happen.
Happily, Redhead vacated the seat nearest to them so they have an unobstructed view of Brunette’s eyes filling with tears, of Texas’ wide eyes, and of Pennsylvania’s face losing all colour.
From context, Texas is the Edmundo Brunette is so pleased with.
But Edmundo is shaking his head, his brow furrowed. “I...wha— ”
Pennsylvania comes back to himself first, though the smile he paints on his face is strained and frail. “Ah, con — congratulations.”
“Wha— Buck, no.”
Pennsylvania — Buck — stands up from the table like a colt learning to walk, his eyes darting across the table without landing anywhere. “I — ah — I should let you guys celebrate.”
“Buck, no, I—” Edmundo’s voice is firmer now, his hand darting out to reach for Buck, and Brunette starts to catch on that nobody’s getting down on one knee with a flowery speech.
“Edmundo?” she calls, her bright smile dimming.
Edmundo looks torn and trapped in equal measure, and Mere wonders for a heartbreaking moment if maybe he’s as confused about his relationships as the Tilted Cactus employees have been tonight.
With a sigh, and a reminder that she’s out of this place like Cinderella at midnight, Mere falls on the proverbial meat cleaver. Stepping around Umida’s still outstretched arm, Mere weaves herself in front of Tomas just in case there’s any physical fallout, and pitches her voice low so the neighbouring tables will have to strain to listen in.
“Excuse me, my name is Mere, I’m the assistant manager. I am so sorry to inform you there’s been a terrible mistake. We’ve delivered a ring to your table that was destined to another this evening. We apologize deeply for any confusion this has caused and we will of course be comping your meals.”
“It—Oh.” Brunette’s eyes land on the ring on her finger, and her remaining excitement implodes into embarrassment so quickly and resoundly that Mere’s surprised it doesn’t produce an audible sound. The fingers of her opposite hand grip the ring and pause for a moment before slipping it off. There’s no box to slip it into so Mere holds out her hand, the other tucked neatly behind her back.
“Thank you,” Mere says quietly. “Please forgive us for the mistake. We will be investigating what happened so it never happens again.”
“Of course,” Brunette says lightly, forcing some life back into her voice. “I’m sure you didn’t mean any harm by it.”
Her eyes lift then and take in the scene across from her. Edmundo and Buck still standing, Edmundo’s hand wrapped round Buck’s wrist to keep him from leaving, and her eyes shutter once more.
“If you’ll excuse me, I need to freshen up,” she says politely, rising from her seat and escaping into the restaurant.
Edmundo watches her go but says nothing, frozen still, holding onto the man beside him.
With all eyes more or less off them now, Mere gathers Tomas and Umida and hauls ass back into the restaurant.
————-
The ring is cleaned and inspected by Gareth, its actual owner, who is amiable enough to not escalate the situation further. His fiancée-to-be is none the wiser on any of these happenings — luckily their table, 29, is indoors — so his proposal is still on for the next course. But, just in case it doesn’t go the way Gareth hopes and he turns on them, Mere preemptively comps their meal too and congratulates him before he’s reseated.
On her way back to the kitchen, she grabs Lenore and uses the last hour of her completely fake authority to formally bar her from ever answering the phone again, or taking notes from the phone, or writing anything anywhere ever again. Lenore, having heard about the drama at table 34 and having seen the crying woman rush to the bathroom just now, accepts with little resistance.
And Mere, heart heavy with the weight of what they’ve done to this poor woman, mentally shakes her fist at her own curiosity and need for schadenfreude. If she’d bailed on this place an hour ago, she wouldn’t be leaving with this heartache by proxy.
As if beckoned by her thoughts, Brunette emerges from the bathroom just as Mere is crossing in front of it. She looks better, her tears packed away, and her cheeks only slightly reddened. Mere is about to offer her something — a glass of water? wine? a whole bottle? — when Edmundo steps into view. Mere doesn’t break stride until she’s behind the protection of the pay terminal privacy partition where she can see them but not be seen.
“Hey,” he says softly, his frame pretty loose and relaxed for a man who looked so troubled moments ago.
“Hey,” she returns with a forced smile.
“I’m so sorry, I don’t know—”
Brunette cuts him off with a hand. “It’s not your fault. They made a mistake. It happens.”
Edmundo nods.
“But…” Brunette continues, fidgeting with the strap of her purse. “For a moment, it didn’t seem far-fetched that it...might be real, you know? I know we’ve been taking things slow, but we have been seeing each other for nearly a year now. And I thought… I don’t know what I thought, but it...it didn’t seem so far-fetched.”
Edmundo’s shoulders have grown tense, and it doesn’t escape Brunette’s notice. She smiles sadly.
“But then I looked up and you weren’t even looking at me. You were looking at Buck. You were so scared he would leave and that — that just doesn’t make sense, does it? I mean, even if the...the ring was a big misunderstanding, wouldn’t it have been better that he leave so we could talk about it privately? But you were scared, because he was upset… And if he was...I don’t know...upset that you hadn’t told him about this, you could have caught up later and discussed it, cleared it up.”
Edmundo says nothing, but he hangs his head and gnaws on his lower lip.
“But you were scared. Scared of him leaving in that moment. Scared...that he’d leave with the wrong idea? That he’d leave thinking you were — we were... ” Brunette sighs sharply. “I think I’ve been a fool.”
“You haven’t—” Edmundo tries to say.
“No, I have. It’s felt so many times like there’s been a third wheel in this relationship, and I genuinely didn’t realize until now that it was me. And maybe I’m naive but I’d like to think you didn’t realize it until today either. That you’re just as big a fool as I am. And maybe Buck is too.”
Edmundo opens his mouth twice to say something but nothing comes out. In the end, he settles on, “Ana, I’m sorry. I...didn’t realize. I don’t even know if I understand what I realize. But I...I know you’re one of the best people I’ve ever met and you didn’t deserve this.”
Brunette — Ana — smiles again sadly, and if a touch bitterly, she’s entitled to it.
“Thank you,” she says softly, before fidgeting with her purse strap again. “I’m going to go. You’ll...say goodbye to Buck for me?” Edmundo nods.
“Goodbye, Edmundo.”
“Take care, Ana,” he responds.
Ana takes a few steps before stopping and turning. “Good luck. I think…” she shakes her head before repeating, “good luck,” and leaving out the side doors.
Mere unglues herself from the privacy wall and slinks sadly back to the bar where she finds Tomas and Umida already halfway through a glass of red each. There’s a third, untouched glass waiting for her.
“We’re horrible people,” Mere decides. “Brunette and Texas just broke up.”
“We didn’t do this,” Umida protests half-heartedly. “Technically, Tomas did.”
“Ugh, you ass,” Tomas sputters. “The note said table 34, you all saw it. It’s Lenore’s fault.”
“It is Lenore’s fault,” Mere agrees before downing half her glass like a shot. Out the window, she can see Pennsyl — Buck — slumped in his chair, staring at the tablecloth. There’s a fresh bottle of wine on the table, two empty glasses at his and Edmundo’s places. Mere raises a glass at Tomas for the gesture.
“If they don’t end up drinking it, I’m taking it home,” Tomas says, “I already wrote it off.”
That’s fair.
Unfortunately for him, when Edmundo gets back to the table, he immediately pours them both a very full glass.
Buck straightens out in his chair, looking concerned and looking around for Ana, who doesn’t materialize. Edmundo says something that has Buck relaxing but looking guilty. Then Edmundo shuffles closer and puts a hand back on Buck’s wrist.
“Okay, back to work,” Mere orders. “We’ve intruded on this drama way too much already.”
When she finds her way back to the bar some twenty minutes later for a totally appropriate reason, table 34 is empty.
————————
A year later, Mere finds herself sitting on the Tilted Cactus bar counter on a Friday night, legs swinging and popping olives like they’re mints. She ended up not quitting her job the night she intended to. Between the excitement, the drama, and the on-duty alcohol, she was feeling pretty chill about sticking it out at the Tilted Cactus a while longer.
But she ended up quitting two days later when the owner found out about how she impersonated an assistant manager and gave her hell for it. She could have stayed, he wasn’t really going to reprimand her. But listening to him talk down at her while her stomach filled with dread at the idea of having to apologize and walk back into that hell hole…nah. Fuck the Tilted Cactus, fuck the owner, and fuck two weeks’ notice. They weren’t getting a minute out of her ever again.
She took the gamble of taking out more student loans and was wrapping up her EMT certification. She’d be in an ambulance soon enough, actually helping people. Not the dream that got her to America, but one that would suffice for now. Make up enough karma to get her feet back under her.
“The lesbians are back,” Umida announces excitedly in a whisper as she fits herself between Mere’s legs against the bar.
“Which lesbians?”
“THEE lesbians,” Umida returns, pointing out the window.
“Those are two guys, babe. Three if you count the kid.”
“They’re lesbians,” Umida insists, waving her hand to dismiss the kid from her labels. “They have strong lesbian energy.”
“You’re claiming them for your people?” Mere grins fondly. It’s the start of Pride again and Umida’s Ally pin has been traded in for a lesbian-flag coloured hijab secured with the updated BIPOC Pride flag pin. She’s very pretty in pink, right down to the lipstick Mere isn’t allowed to kiss off of her until her shift is up.
“I am, they’re mine. I claim them.”
“Wait,” Mere squints, trying to pin down the familiar feeling she’s getting, “are those…”
“The guys! Eddie and Buck. I told you they were semi-regulars now. And we were right, that’s totally their kid. I don’t know how, especially since we know they weren’t together before that night, but he’s their kid. My money’s on one of them being trans because he’s literally their spitting image combined.”
Mere sighs happily and hugs Umida to her. “Well, I’m glad some good came out of that night.”
“Umida?” a young voice asks from across the bar. In the year since the reopening, a slew of new hires have joined the ranks to replace all the veterans leaving and Mere barely recognizes anyone anymore. She saw Mikael (unsurprisingly single again) a couple of weeks ago but he’s clearly on his way out too. Tomas lasted until his probation was over before quitting. Umida, in no small part because she was the longest lasting employee, was rightfully promoted to the role of assistant manager. Mere still hopes she’ll leave this hell hole soon but in the meantime, at least she’s getting paid. And authority looks really good on her.
“What up, Jerome?”
Jerome pushes his dark blue fringe back and holds up a sheet of paper. “I have a note here to deliver a ring to a table with dessert but it doesn’t say who’s supposed to get it.”
“Oh my god, no, no way,” Mere laughs and tries to push Umida away. “Let me out of here.”
Umida’s arms close around her hips, preventing her escape.
“Calm down. I created a form so that night doesn’t happen again. Jerome, did you use the form?”
“Um, yeah.” He shakes the sheet of paper in his hands. “I mean whoever took the call did. They checked off the table number, and it’s a ‘fiancé’ not a ‘fiancée’, but it’s a table with two guys so…”
“Okay, but there’s a field for the name, did they fill it out?”
“How am I supposed to know who they are from a name though?”
“Oh my god, kid, you schmooze,” Umida says. “You roll up to their table, you lay on the customer service thick and introduce yourself and ask their names. People are idiots, they’ll tell you, just like that.”
Jerome cocks his head in contemplation. “Yeah okay, but no, there’s no name. It’s blank.”
“But you made a form,” Mere mock whispers.
Umida turns on her, her eyeshadow catching the bar lights as she narrows her eyes. “This is not the form’s fault, don’t you blame this on the form! The form has a field for a name! The form provides!”
“The form is flawless,” Mere agrees quickly, running her hand down Umida’s arm soothingly. “You can’t account for user error.”
Umida glares harder before looking up to the ceiling in supplication.
Mere, who has never in her life been able to resist picking at a scab, asks, “what table is it?”
Jerome checks the paper. “34.”
“The cursed table. The cursed lesbians!” Mere gasps, squirming out of the way when Umida tries to pinch her side.
“Well it’s not like the kid is a contender, so it’s 50/50,” Umida points out. “Much better odds than last time.”
“And to be fair, if the wrong guy gets the flute, he can just improvise and propose with the ring in hand,” Mere continues. “Overall, much less exciting drama than last time. 3/10 for me.”
“Thank god. Yeah, let’s do that.” Jerome walks away with his marching orders and Umida turns to Mere. “I have to actually go work. You gonna hang out here?” She’s off in a half hour and they have tickets to the back row of the latest Marvel nonsense.
“I got booze, olives, and an unobstructed view of my favourite drama. I’m all set.” In lieu of a proper kiss, Mere lifts Umida’s hand and kisses her wrist, delighting in watching her girlfriend’s eyes soften. She blows Mere a kiss and flits away to put out fires.
Mere is usually on her phone while she waits for Umida but tonight she watches table 34. The guys — Eddie and Buck, Umida reminded her — are across the table from each other, Eddie is relaxed in his chair but Buck is leaning forward, elbows on the table as he tells their son a story that has him cackling in his seat. They’re not holding hands, but anyone looking can see they’re together. They have ridiculous heart eyes for each other, and from her vantage point she can see those long legs intermingling again, one knee occasionally jostling into the other. Little tangible reminders that they’re there and together.
She saw hints of this that night, and to see it have taken hold and blossomed...suddenly she’s really invested in them having a great night. One of them planned this night out, wanted to surprise the other, and she doesn’t want that going to waste because of a blank field on a form.
Mere’s wearing a dark long-sleeve blouse, not too far off the dress code, so slips off the counter, snags the backup apron they always leave behind the bar and ties it around her waist. One of the newbies whose name she doesn’t know watches her from the host pedestal and Mere raises a fierce eyebrow at them until they go back to minding their own business.
She rinses out a jug and fills it with water and ice and slips back into her customer service posture to make the rounds of the tables in section 10.
“Well now, I recognize you handsome folk, don’t I?” she schmoozes when she gets to table 34, picking up Eddie’s glass first to fill.
Eddie doesn’t place her and she doesn’t blame him, he was under a lot of stress that night. It takes Buck a second but he gets it.
“Oh hey, yeah! Weren’t you — “ Buck cuts himself off awkwardly and casts an eye to Eddie and the kid. “You, ah, gave us our meals for free! Because of the, um, mix-up.”
That’s enough for Eddie to place her, and where Buck relaxes back into his chair as she fills his glass, Eddie goes stock still.
Bingo.
“What mix-up?” the kid asks.
“Ah, they put something in our drink by accident,” Buck lies without lying. “Real choking hazard! So they gave us our meals for free.”
“That’s dangerous,” the kid says.
“It was dangerous,” Mere agrees, filling his glass. “Choking hazard was right. Could have turned a really great night all wrong with a trip to the hospital.”
Eddie’s brow furrows slightly and Mere struggles to keep a neutral face.
“It’s never a good idea to hide things in food. I don’t know why people keep trying instead of just calling us for advice. We have tons of ways to help people with surprises.”
“I completely agree,” Buck says. “We’re actually firefighters and you wouldn’t believe how many accidental choking calls we get.”
Eddie swallows, his eyes looking mildly panicked.
“Firefighters!” Mere schmoozes harder, smiling at the kid as he gets excited again. “Well I certainly feel safer then.”
“Ah, you probably shouldn’t. I was actually one of those calls once,” Buck says halfway through a smile and grimace, pointing to his throat where there’s a faint scar. “Emergency tracheotomy on the floor of a restaurant. But that wasn’t a surprise, just, ah, too enthusiastic about the breadsticks.”
Eddie’s looking decidedly gray now, eyes laser focused on the scar.
“Okay, well I’ll just go ahead and clear these,” Mere says, jokingly reaching for the bread basket until Buck laughs back.
“I’m better now, promise! Small bites, chewed thoroughly!”
“Hmm, I don’t know,” she dithers dramatically, nodding to the kid. “If I leave those here, can I trust you to keep an eye on your dad?”
“Yeah!” the kid agrees with a toothy grin.
Buck’s cheeks redden quickly but he’s still smiling, his head ducked shyly in a way Mere doubts is due to her teasing. Eddie, meanwhile, is still looking poleaxed though fondness is fighting its way back in.
“Well, I was just subbing into this section so this will be goodbye for us but it was great to see you guys! Enjoy your evening!”
“Thanks, you too!” Buck says with an easy smile. Eddie manages a “thank you” and Mere has to restrain herself from patting his shoulder as she walks away.
She’s only just returned the apron to the bar when she sees Eddie walk in and head straight for the host before being led to the back.
“Ready to go?” Umida asks, back in her unsensible heels and cross-chest messenger bag.
Mere takes the hand she extends but tugs her closer instead of following her out, before saying the worst thing she’s ever said in her life, “Actually, do you mind if we stick around a little longer?”
“Something good about to happen?” she asks, peeking out the window.
Mere tugs her in closer and leans her chin on her shoulder. “I think so.”
Twenty minutes later, when Jerome passes by with a tray of assorted chocolate treats and two overturned coffee cups, Mere and Umida find themselves bracketed by half the front and back staff. Gossip still spreads like wildfire it seems.
Buck’s overturned coffee cup and plate is the last thing Jerome puts on the table, and as soon as it’s down, he excuses himself. He keeps a professional pace until he’s past the exterior doors and then he’s racing to take a front seat at the bar.
Eddie turns over his cup but doesn’t reach for the carafe, he wipes his hands on his jeans instead.
“Oh my god, he’s so nervous,” Jerome whispers.
“The kid is so in on it,” the host whose name Mere never caught says, and they’re right. Where Eddie’s tensed up, the kid is bouncing in his seat like he knows something’s coming.
“Come on, guy,” a bus boy mutters, checking his watch. His break is almost over.
Mere’s heart is beating hard in sympathy with Eddie’s as they all watch Buck ignore his coffee cup in favor of serving their kid from the tray. Then he signals to Eddie’s plate, who can’t not lift it for the offered chocolate tortes. Finally, there’s chocolate on everyone’s plates and Buck sits back to try a piece of brownie and Eddie can’t take it anymore.
He motions to the carafe and Buck perks up, finally reaching for his cup. But just as his fingers close around it, some idiot’s dog barks on the sideway, calling his attention away. His fingers flip the cup without ever looking at it, or the plate underneath it.
“Oh come on,” Umida moans.
The dog passes with its dumbass owner and Buck puts his cup back down, or tries to, but finds something in the way. He tries again, pushing the intrusion away with the bottom of the cup.
“Oh my god,” is whined in Mere’s left ear and when she turns her head she’s surprised to find not another Tilted Cactus employee but a customer dressed to the nines, pearls and all.
“Ma’am, did you —”
“Shh,” the woman returns, her eyes never moving from the window. Mere turns back too.
Finally, Buck has managed to push the offending items off the plate and settle his cup down and it’s a nail-biting few seconds where it actually looks like he’s going to reach for the carafe and go about his business.
But like a true wingman, the little kid points directly at it, prompting Buck to push the napkin aside and pick up — the ring.
Buck freezes, holding the ring between his thumb and index. His cheeks flush and a smile begins to break over his face before he looks startled and the smile falls abruptly away.
It’s about this time Eddie realizes that proposing by recreating the night they got together was never going to be the best idea when the impetus to their relationship was an engagement ring accidentally sent to the wrong person.
Eddie vaults out of his seat and into the empty one next to Buck, wrapping his hand around the one holding the ring, and bringing his other hand to his cheek to gently turn his head until Buck is looking at him. They can’t tell what he says, but they can watch Buck’s eyes fill with tears, watch as Eddie gestures to their son who’s smiling wide and reaching out for a hand, which Buck instantly provides. His attention comes back to Eddie then, who’s saying something that gets them both looking a little fragile and it’s hard to say if he actually popped the question yet but Buck is surging forward to kiss him hard and fast. Eddie gives as good as he’s getting for a moment before he slows them with small, gentle kisses. And when they finally break apart, Eddie plucks the ring from Buck’s fingers and slides it onto his ring finger as Buck watches, his eyes wide and half incredulous.
Outside, the nearby tables break out into applause, startling the trio and reminding the two men that they are indeed out in public. Eddie acknowledges the applause with an embarrassed hand and waits until they have a modicum of privacy again before taking Buck’s hand and kissing right near the where the ring now sits. He then reluctantly shuffles back into his seat.
Inside, Mere is hugging Umida to her with a strength buoyed by love. Around them, the staff are starting to disperse, some wiping their eyes, some with goofy grins on their faces.
“Young man,” the lady in the pearls says to Jerome, holding out her credit card, “I want you to charge that family’s meal to my card.”
“Yes, ma’am. That’s very generous of you.”
The woman sniffs delicately and leaves without another word. Hopefully Jerome knows where she was sitting…
“I’m glad she did that,” Mere says into Umida’s shoulder, “I was going to, otherwise, and I’m a broke-ass student.”
“I would have pitched in,” Umida says, her voice soft and pensive. “Ready to go?”
“Yeah,” Mere agrees, sliding off the bar counter for the last time. “Oh, hold on.”
She gets closer to the window and turns the flash off of her camera before taking a pic.
“I think that’s bordering on creepy now,” Umida says without judgement.
“It’s not for me.” Mere sends the pic off with a note and three ring emojis.
They don’t make it out of the restaurant before her phone dings.
“What does Tomas have to say?” Umida asks with a smirk.
Mere pulls up the text and reads, “Gays and lesbians. Both, at the same time. Never doubting Umida’s gaydar again.”
Umida laughs victoriously, which shouldn’t be as sexy as it is, and Mere lets her drag her by the hand down the street, letting the nostalgia from tonight settle in her chest.
If there’s anything she misses from working the restaurant scene, it’s getting this glimpse into people’s lives.
Yeah, most of the work was gross, obnoxious, or mind-numbing. But every now and again, she got to be a part of strangers’ stories. Got to be there for the happiest days like graduations, or bridal showers. And even the sadder stories could be beautiful sometimes, like when she got to be extra kind to the elderly woman coming into the restaurant alone for the first time in ten years, or watch a family have their last supper together before their kid moves away for school. It’s just all so human and some kind of wonderful.
She hopes her career as a paramedic will have just a little bit of that kind of magic.
#911fic#buddie fics#buddie#my fics#okay this is fic 2 of 2 for pov outsider for me!#completely opposite tone of the last one this is just fun and dumb :P#hope y'all like it!#my posts
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OK, I have no idea what happened to it ((my guess is that the blue hellsite decided it was snacktime and ate the thing)), but ages ago, @kitkat0723 sent me an ask prompting the following:
May I pleaseeeeee request #11 back hugs and #15 The biggest warmest hugs
This is my fill for that, in this text post, because Tumblr disappeared the ask when I tried to save it in my drafts. Who knows? Anyway, it got much longer than intended, but I'm chalking that up to that it's technically two prompts, one fic. Heads up, there’s some frustratedDad!Eddie in here. Everything is all good by the end, and it’s nothing too severe, but if that’s not your kinda thing, no hard feelings. Other than that, enjoy!
Eddie’s staring at his hands, wrapped so tightly around the edge of the kitchen counter that he can see his knuckles turning white. His back is strained, muscles pulled taut against the effort it takes to support his head right now. When he flexes his fingers, it’s like he can feel the bones scraping together, hear the grinding echoing in his head.
It’s like a garbage disposal, sucking his thoughts down into its spinning blades. Except that the thoughts don’t go anywhere, and he’s still stuck thinking them.
He’s the worst dad in the world, and his kid doesn’t even have a mom to go running toward.
He can’t believe himself, yelling at Chris, sending him to his room without dessert just because he copped an attitude about his math homework.
(Actually, he did that because Chris kept rolling his eyes and calling his teacher a ‘stupid jerkface.’ Eddie met her at conferences; he might not be wrong, but that doesn’t mean it’s OK to say it out loud. Especially when Eddie told him more than once to stop.)
But it’s been a long day, for both of them. Eddie’s coming fresh off of an 18-hour shift, and apparently Chris had a pop quiz in social studies he wasn’t prepared for. So tensions were already running high before Buck cleared the pizza boxes away, turning the kitchen table into a makeshift classroom. (And honestly, what would any of them do without Buck, swooping in with delivery dinner to take at least one thing off of Eddie’s to-do list?)
Then Eddie had spent 45 minutes trying to remember how to divide fractions. Every time he’d tried to suggest something – anything at all, from “let’s look in your textbook” to “I think you flip one of them upside down – he'd been met with a long-suffering sigh and an eye-roll that would make Anderson Cooper proud.
“Why do I have to do this anyway? Math is stupid, and my teacher is stupid, and I’m stupid, and all of it’s stupid!” Chris would shout, or some variation thereof.
And eventually, Eddie had had enough. Enough of trying to rationalize through it. Enough of Buck looking at him helplessly and shrugging his shoulders because he’s no more useful with fractions than Eddie is. Enough of Chris’ high-pitched whine, the way he flopped back in his chair and groaned. Enough reminding him to use his words, that he’s a smart kid, that they’ll get through this together.
Enough of all of it.
“Fine, you don’t want to do your homework? That’s fine!” Eddie had shouted, pushing his chair back from the table with enough force to wobble it onto two legs. “But if you’re not going to work on this, then you can go put your pajamas on and brush your teeth. No TV and no ice cream until your worksheets are done, I don’t care how long it’s going to take. I’m not doing this with you all night, go to your room!”
Chris had stared at him, eyes wide and mouth agape in shock, before thinking better of it and running off. The sound of his crutches echoing was enough to shake Eddie from his stupor, but when he’d looked at Buck, who was already looking back, concern etched across his face, he’d snapped again.
“I can’t sit there all night and watch him stare at a piece of paper. I don’t want to hear it from you either, OK? Just …” Buck’s eyebrows had pushed closer together, and the anger bled out of Eddie again. His voice cracked as he continued. “Just give me a minute, OK? Please?”
Then he’d pushed past Buck to go stare out the kitchen window, before he could say anything else to hurt someone he loves.
Which brought him to now, clinging to the countertop like the world might swallow him whole if he lets go. Honestly, he’d probably deserve it, for raising his voice at his son and at his boyfriend, all in one breath.
He exhales shakily, screwing his eyes shut against the tears that are threatening to burn hot, salty tracks down his face.
He’s the worst dad in the world, and he sent his kid to his room, and Buck probably left too, and there’s nothing he can do about it.
But he can’t give in to the anger, can’t let it take over the definition of his day. He remembers Frank saying something about that, how it’s maybe not a bad day, just a bad moment that he’s milking all day. And he doesn’t want to do that, especially not where Chris is involved. So he takes another deep breath, and a few more after that.
He’s still breathing slowly, counting every second of air in and out of his lungs, when he feels a heavy, sold weight drape across his back.
He relaxes into the contact, knows who it is before Buck can even slide his arms around Eddie’s waist. Buck holds him tightly, crouches down far enough to bury his face in Eddie’s neck, waits patiently for their breathing to even out until they’re sharing the same rhythm.
Buck stands there, holding him tightly and long enough that Eddie doesn't feel like the world is going to beat him anymore. He holds Eddie until he feels strong enough to let go of the counter with one hand and wrap his fingers around Buck’s where they’re pressing into his stomach. His wrist won’t turn far enough to tangle their fingers together, but Buck lets Eddie hold onto his hand, squeezes back as best as he can when Eddie tightens his grip.
And after a long moment, when Eddie finally turns himself around in Buck’s arms, Buck is still there. He’s there for Eddie to cling to, adjusts his grasp so Eddie can get his hands high enough to wrap around Buck’s shoulders and fist in the back of his T-shirt. He’s there for Eddie to bury his face against Buck’s chest and let out one last long, shuddery sigh.
And he’s there when Eddie leans back, just far enough to see Buck’s face when he opens his mouth.
“Buck, I--”
“It's alright, I know, you’ve had a long day. No hard--” Eddie cuts him off, before he can supply the word “feelings.”
“It’s not. It’s not alright. I overreacted, and I lashed out, and I’m sorry.” Eddie sighs and leans his forehead back against Buck’s shoulder. “I shouldn’t have … I was out of line. You didn’t deserve that. You haven’t done anything tonight but try to help – and you have helped. I don’t know how I’d have gotten through tonight without you. Even if I screwed up royally.”
“You didn’t ‘screw up royally.’” Buck runs his hand up and down Eddie’s back, a hundred times more gentle than he deserves tonight. “You got frustrated, you snapped a little bit, but you backed off before you went too far. Eddie, babe, it happens. Trust me, from having parents who did screw up in a million different ways, I seriously doubt Chris is going to be talking about this in therapy in 20 years.”
“Oh god, Chris.” Eddie rears back again, dropping his hands to Buck’s sides, but not letting go of him. “I … I yelled at him and took away his dessert. Over math homework.”
“Over his attitude toward math homework.” But Buck’s words fall on deaf ears.
“He called himself stupid, and I yelled at him.”
“Eddie, hey.” Buck squeezes Eddie’s bicep gently until he can bring himself to make eye contact. “He’s doing good. I went back and talked with him, helped him get ready for bed. No progress on the math homework, but he’s jammied, and his teeth are brushed, and last I looked, he was working on the latest Captain Underpants book. He was a little worried that you were upset with him, but we talked, and he knows you had a long day, and he was being difficult and --”
“He’s not a difficult kid.” He’s not, truly, and Eddie had long ago promised himself that he’d never make Chris feel like he is.
“Maybe not, but even good kids have their moments. He knows that it’s not his fault, and that we both still love him very much. And you know what?” Eddie hums, but doesn’t say anything. “He asked me to come see if you were OK. ‘Dad must have had a really bad day,’ he said. ‘I think he might need some help with it, but I should stay in here, so I don’t get in trouble again.’”
Eddie sniffles, tears in his eyes for an entirely new reason now. Even after all of the mistakes he’s made – not just tonight, but especially now – he's still got such a sweet kid, with so much empathy, and the biggest heart of anyone he’s ever met. How many 11-year-olds would get yelled at and immediately want to make sure their dads are OK?
He doesn’t know for sure, but he’s willing to be that the number isn’t large.
“I should go talk to him,” Eddie sighs, finally stepping back far enough that he has to let go of Buck.
“I think he’d like that. Want some support?”
Eddie thinks for a moment, then nods. He doesn't know how he’d have gotten through this much of tonight without Buck, and he really doesn’t want to do the next part by himself either. He leads the way down the hall, but Buck catches his hand along the way. This time, their fingers fit together perfectly.
He stops at the doorway to Chris’ room, takes a second to look at his son, lying on top of the covers with his knees bent up to balance his book. He’s completely oblivious to the audience until Eddie knocks gently on the doorframe.
“Hey, Chris,” he starts, then realizes he doesn’t know where the sentence was meant to be going.
“Dad!” Chris sits up and grins. He grins, and Eddie’s heart swells. “Buck said you had a bad day. Do you need a hug?”
“Yeah,” Eddie nods, stepping forward until he can sit on the edge of the mattress. “Yeah, I think I do.”
The next thing he knows, Chris is all but launching himself at Eddie’s lap. He flings his arms around his dad’s neck and holds on tight. By the time he’s done squirming, he’s situated himself on top of Eddie’s thighs, chin tucked underneath his head.
He’s almost too big to be held like this, but it doesn’t matter to either of them as Eddie hugs him right back. One hand lands on Chris’ head, ruffles through the thick curls for a moment before gently tugging him back by the shoulder.
“Hey, you know how I always talk about setting a good example for the people around you?” Chris nods hesitantly, like he’s not sure where the conversation is going. But Eddie does, and he knows that everything is going to be OK. He takes a deep breath and continues.
“Well, I need to do that too. And tonight, that means that I owe you an apology.”
#katie writes#kw21#buddie#evan buckley#eddie diaz#christopher diaz#911#911 fox#9-1-1#9-1-1 fox#911 fanfic#buddie fanfic#katie answers#prompt fill#kitkat0723#my franns
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Serotonin (TNA) x Fem Reader- "Raven's Cock"
Hello.
I would like to apologize on why I didn't post anything on Monday.
I did type a fanfic on Monday but didn't finish it, and I tried finishing it yesterday but I got frustrated typing it, and I'm not sure if I should finish that fanfic or not.
The fanfic is inspired by that Internet meme of porn star Piper Perri sitting down on a couch while 5 black men are standing behind her and that couch.
I've even made my own parody of that Piper Perri meme that has wrestlers I have crushes on sitting behind that same couch while Trish Stratus is sitting on that couch, I've thought of making my parody the border image for this blog as well as posting it.
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A wrestler named Raven really made a name for himself when he was in 2 alternate wrestling companies to the World Wrestling Federation during the 90's: WCW and ECW.
However, as the new millennium entered, WCW and ECW went out of business, although Raven was no longer in those companies by the time they went bankrupt.
He didn't really seem to get pushed and used that much when he was in the World Wrestling Federation, which was the most famous wrestling company in the world and still is today, although it's now known as the WWE (World Wrestling Entertainment).
He eventually sued the WWE and left the company, but he did have a short stint in another alternate wrestling company, Ring of Honor, as well as join the 2nd biggest competitive wrestling company in the 2000's: TNA.
TNA, which stood for Total Nonstop Action for you people with dirty minds, was like a more violent and sexual WCW: not only was it an alternative to the WWF/E, but TNA had wrestling icons joining that company like Hulk Hogan, Mick Foley, Sting, Booker T, Scott Hall/Razor Ramon, Rob Van Dam, Jeff Hardy and more, as well as newcomer wrestlers such as AJ Styles and Samoa Joe.
WCW used to have wrestling legends join that company (Hulk Hogan, Macho Man Randy Savage, Scott Hall, Ultimate Warrior, Curt Hennig/Mr. Perfect, Rowdy Roddy Piper), as well as have up and coming wrestlers who would eventually become legends (Sting, Stone Cold Steve Austin, Triple H, Booker T, Goldberg, Eddie Guerrero).
During Raven's time in TNA, he formed a short lived faction known as Serotonin, a group of men who wore face paint, torture people by burning their skin with candlewax, and hit people with kendo sticks.
The members didn't just include Raven, but also Shawn Michaels' cousin Michael Shane, Frank Kazarian and Johnny Devine.
Serotonin were almost like a wrestling version of the droogs from "A Clockwork Orange".
The men from Serotonin were hot, even though you prefer Michael Shane when he didn't wear makeup and Johnny Devine without that stripe across his eyes, as well as Raven during his WCW and ECW days.
Seeing some of the things Serotonin did in TNA looked rather, eh...kinky. Sexual.
During Serotonin's time in TNA, you shared with the members of Serotonin an idea you had involving them.
They figured you had that idea when you watched them, but they don't mind this idea, in fact, they'd love to act this out.
Sometime during Serotonin's heyday circa 2006/2007, you invited the members of that group to your hotel room, as well as brought along the props for this rendezvous.
The hotel room was rather dark, no lights turned on, fitting the mood for tonight's orgy.
After Serotonin had entered your hotel room and shut the door, before they could do what you wanted them to do to you, they were putting on their makeup they wear in TNA in the bathroom.
They were already dressed like how they dress as Serotonin, but now they need some makeup to apply.
Michael Shane had his long hair hanging down, not tied back in a ponytail, and Johnny Devine had makeup that made him look good and not ugly.
When their makeup was done, they walked out of the bathroom and approached you, where Raven stood behind you with his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you tight and refusing to let go of you.
One of his fingers wrapped around his forearm, embracing you tight.
He lifted you off of the floor, where your legs and feet were kicking like you wanted to be let go.
The other members of Serotonin began shedding and peeling your clothes off, sliding your clothes down your arms and hands as well as your legs, undressing you until you were stark naked, throwing your clothes on the floor.
You aren't being raped, you're roleplaying.
You didn't scream since you don't want people next door to hear you and think you're getting raped.
Would Serotonin ever be savage enough to rape someone on TNA? Hmmmmmm...
Is it necessary for you to roleplay as if you're getting gangraped and having your clothes peeled off?
Serotonin could also easily take scissors and cut them off of your body, or use a switchblade and tear the clothes off of you.
Once you were undressed, they ordered you to get down on your knees.
You obeyed them, sinking down to the carpeted floor and standing on your knees.
Frank Kazarian, who was known as Kaz in Serotonin, undid his pants by unbuttoning and unzipping them, where he slid his hand down his pants and pulled his cock out.
After he pulled his dick out, he grabbed a scarf sitting on the bed and wrapped and tied it around your wrist, where he pulled that scarf and lifted up both your hand and arm.
As he tied a scarf around your wrist, Johnny Devine, who was known as Havok in Serotonin, unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, pulling his pants down and letting his genitals out.
Havok pulled a scarf out of the pocket of his pants and wrapped and tied a scarf around your wrist, lifting your arm and hand up by pulling up that scarf.
Michael Shane, known as Martyr in Serotonin, was standing right in front of you, unbuttoning and unzipping his pants and pulling them down, letting his private parts out.
Raven was behind you, he was busy undoing his white pants and pulling his cock out.
Kaz and Havok held the scarves and didn't let go, your arms were standing up in the air.
Martyr wrapped his fingers around his shaft, which was getting harder and rising up more seeing your naked body, and slowly inserted his penis into your mouth.
Martyr was probably the hottest member in Serotonin, that's why you're sucking on his cock while the other 2 tied scarves around your wrists.
You took his cock in your mouth, wrapping your lips around his shaft, where you proceeded to suck his dick.
While you sucked his penis, Havok and Kaz had their fingers wrapped around their shafts, although not each others shafts, like Kaz's fingers around Havok's erection, where they held their penises and directed and pointed the tips of their penises at your face, where they proceeded to start masturbating over your face.
Their penises were as close to your face as possible, nearly wanting to poke your cheeks (but not penetrate and pierce through them) on your face with their penis heads.
Since they want their precum to get on your face, they moved their dicks closer until their penis heads were poking and touching the cheeks on your face.
Hopefully you'll get precum on your face.
Raven was standing behind you, wrapping his fingers around his big hard cock, and letting his penis overlap over your forehead and on top of your head.
When you sucked on Martyr's penis, precum leaked out of his slit and spilled onto your tongue, sometimes behind your bottom row of teeth.
But you managed to swallow his precum when you could.
Martyr unwrapped his fingers off of his shaft and placed his fingers on your nipples, where he tweaked and pinched them.
You have very sensitive nipples, and you whimpered and moaned while Martyr tweaked your nips.
Precum escaped out of Havok and Kaz's slits and landed on your face, sometimes their precum ran down their shafts.
Their precum on your face ran down your cheeks like tears.
Despite that they were busy masturbating with one hand, their other hands were still gripping onto the scarves holding your arms up.
And the scarves didn't untie while they held them.
Since you're afraid you'll get precum in your eyes which hurts, you shut your eyes just in case,.
Raven, on the other hand, began to masturbate his penis, pumping his fingers up and down his shaft, where precum eventually poured out of his slit and onto your face.
"You've been a bad girl, haven't ya?" Raven purred, his voice sounding husky and warm, his face leaning into the side of your head.
"Mmmmhmmmmm" you replied, nodding your head.
Raven had a paddle in one of his hands, a wooden paddle used for spanking, and while he held that paddle horizontally, the paddle quickly crashed into your ass cheeks like a car crashing into a wall, pressing onto your ass and turning it pink.
You slightly jumped up and wanted to cry when Raven's paddle hit your ass.
He pulled that paddle a few inches away from your ass, only to quickly collide that paddle into your ass again, the paddle hitting both of your ass cheeks.
Tears could nearly well in your eyes from the pain.
The paddle began to separate away from your ass a few times, only to bash your ass again, and he did this over and over again.
When he spanked you, sometimes the paddle hit one ass cheek, other times it hit both of them.
He hit you with that paddle like how he hits people with kendo sticks in TNA, letting out his fury as he spanked your ass.
Your knees were burning and chafing from standing on the carpeted floor.
Raven's precum trickled out of his slit and ran down your face, he's spanking you while still jerking off.
Now that's talent.
You're trying to control yourself not to bite Martyr's penis as Raven spanks you.
Will people next door hear you getting spanked? Hopefully not.
All of the members of Serotonin were looking at your face, they were smiling and grinning seeing your face drenched in cum.
When you had enough precum on your face, Kaz and Havok moved and directed their penises to your breasts, where they still continued masturbating their dicks.
Their penis tips were as close to your tits as possible, their penis heads nudging your breasts.
Precum leaked from their slits and dripped onto your chest, running down your tits looking like melted candlewax.
Your ass cheeks keep turning pinkish red with every smack they get from that paddle, and hopefully you won't get splinters on your rear end.
Raven's had enough with spanking your ass, although he wants a chance to jizz on your tits, so does Martyr.
Martyr pulled his cock out of your mouth for a while, only to aim and point his dick at one of your breasts.
He still continued masturbating his penis, pumping up and down his shaft, precum being released from his slit and landing on your breast.
Raven wants you to suck on his big juicy cock, although he also wants to jack off on your breasts as well.
When Martyr felt like he masturbated enough on one of your tits, he moved his dick to your other breast, where he still jacked off his shaft.
His penis was aiming at your other tit, nudging your breast.
Likewise, precum leaked out of his slit and fell on your breast, his precum sliding down your tit.
Raven walked in front of you and asked for these other Serotonin members to move over, Raven hasn't gotten a chance to masturbate on your breasts.
Havok moved a few steps horizontally to make room for Raven, where Raven held his penis and pointed it at one of your tits.
He jacked his dick off, pumping it until some precum was released out of his slit and onto your breast.
His shaft was slippery thanks to precum running down it, and he masturbated until he felt like he jizzed enough on one of your breasts.
He then directed his dick to your other breast, still pumping up and down his shaft.
Precum dripped out of his slit and dropped on your breast, now so many mixture of Serotonin's precum is running down your tits and face.
Martyr, on the other hand, hasn't gotten a chance to jack off on your face, so he lifted his penis up to your face by still holding on to it and continued masturbating his dick.
Martyr held his penis to your face, pointing it close enough to your face, where precum did fall out of his slit and onto your face, some of it dripping down your mouth.
He held his penis to your nose, you haven't really been bukakke'd on your face besides perhaps when Raven jacked off on your forehead.
With precum running down your breasts and face, it looks like candlewax.
Raven ordered you to open your mouth as well as lean your head back, and you listened to him, leaning your head back and opening and widening your mouth as much as you could.
Raven, Havok and Kaz lifted their cocks and pointed their penis tips at your mouth, whereas Martyr moved his penis to your mouth.
They continued masturbating, aiming their dicks at your mouth, hoping precum will fall in there.
Some precum did slip out of their slits and into your mouth, and that's what they as well as you want.
They grinned and looked at your face while they masturbated into your mouth, and you swallowed any precum that dropped into your mouth.
You wish you could have someone behind you right now, and speak of the devil...
Raven then walked around Havok and placed himself behind you, where he now crouched on the floor.
As Raven was behind you, he placed his hands on your breasts and began to caress and squeeze them, rubbing them until the precum rubbed into your skin.
Their precum disappeared as it was rubbed in your flesh, seeping into your skin.
When Raven rubbed your breasts with precum drenched on them, he leaned and buried his face on the side of your neck, where his teeth took a nibble of your skin on your neck.
He sucked your skin while it was slightly in his mouth, he growled a bit while he sucked your skin.
His teeth bit your skin rather hard, almost giving you a hickey.
In fact, he is giving you a hickey. He'll give you many of them.
Your moans have been rather breathy while Raven does this to you.
Martyr, Havok and Kaz would love to have turns where they rub the precum on your breasts until it seeps into your skin, but maybe that can be for next time.
When the precum on your breasts seeped into your skin and disappeared, Martyr walked away and grabbed a candle, he brought with him one of those sex candles that isn't dangerous.
Havok brought a lighter with him and slid his hand into his pocket, pulling out a lighter and turning it on, a little flame coming out of the flicker.
Martyr held the candle up to the lighter, where the little flame lit the top of the candle.
Raven saw that Martyr lit that candle, so he now moved his hands off of your breasts since he doesn't want to get candlewax on his hands, for now, anyway.
Martyr moved that candle he was holding carefully to your chest, where he tilted that candle above one of your breasts, as close to one of your tits, but not trying to let the fire burn your tit.
Candlewax did begin to drip down that candle as well as drop onto one of your tits.
You flinched when the wax hit your tit, although at least it isn't an actual candle.
The wax burned your skin and you can feel the heat from the flame on top of that candle close to you.
Pretty soon, more candlewax began to drip on your breast, and as it fell onto your tit, one of Raven's hands slipped in between your thighs, where one of the tips of his fingers began to play with your clit.
His finger rubbed your clitoris in circles as well as sometimes pressed on it, his finger rubbed you across horizontally as well as vertically.
Your twat was so moist as Raven slipped his finger in between your vulva.
You had so much anxiety as candlewax was dripping on your tit and a lit candle was so close to you, you were terrified that you'd get set on fire.
Raven would love to still spank you, but he's afraid if he spanks you while candlewax is dripping on your tits, you'll push forward and the candle might fall down and set the hotel room's floor on fire.
Martyr hasn't had enough of a chance to jizz on your face, so while he's tilting a candle dripping over your chest, his hand is cranking up and down his shaft, he's holding his penis to your face.
Precum drips out of his slit and onto your face, and you'd love to suck on his cock right now.
He then moved that candle to your other breast, where he tilted the candle and wax dripped on your tit, sliding down your breast.
You could've used a regular candle, not one you buy from a sex shop, but at least the candlewax won't be painful.
Drops of wax began to fall onto your breast, feeling hot and warm.
Kaz and Havok want turns to pour candlewax on your tits, so does Raven, probably.
Speaking of Raven, he's been behind you all this time sucking on your skin and biting it.
You're moaning for him as well as Martyr, your moans breathy while your eyes roll to the top of your head.
However, you can't touch Raven since your hands are up in the air.
Raven sees that candlewax is pouring on your tits, and he can't wait to rub and caress the candlewax on your breasts.
Havok grabbed the candle, taking it from Martyr who let go of it, and tilted it over one of your tits, where candlewax began to drip off of the candle and onto one of your breasts.
Havok wants to have his cock sucked, so does Kaz, and Kaz, Havok and Martyr all want to spank your ass and finger your clit.
Raven's gonna get his cock sucked when this little gangbang is over.
Would Raven like to pour candlewax on your tit? Maybe.
Havok eventually moved the candle to your other breast, tilting the candle while wax drips off of it and onto your breast.
Candlewax splattered on both of your breasts, covering them in wax.
Havok eventually handed the candle to Kaz, who continued tilting the candle while wax fell off of it and onto your breast.
Kaz was watching carefully while wax spilled onto your breast.
Raven is making your clit tingle and tickle, you're probably gonna cum pretty soon.
Kaz then moved the candle over to your other breast, still tilting that candle so wax will drip onto it.
The candle is running down almost to a nub, hopefully he won't burn his hand.
Candlewax did fall off of the candle and on your breast, like precum did previously.
Kaz then turned the candle upwards and straight and blew it out, and as Raven observed your breasts smothered in candlewax despite that he hasn't gotten a turn yet, he slid his hand away from in between your thighs.
However, before he could caress your tits, he wrapped his fingers around his erection and directed his penis to your twat.
The tip of his penis penetrated your pussy hole, and pretty soon, his cock entered you deeper and deeper, spreading your pussy walls out.
His fingers unwrapped from his shaft while his dick entered your pussy, only to lift his hands and place them on your breasts this time.
While his cock slid into your cunt, he began to squeeze your tits as well as caress your breasts covered in candle wax, his hands and palms smearing the wax into your skin.
He began to thrust and pound his cock in your pussy, and you began to bounce and ride up and down his dick.
He tried to rub the candlewax into your tits like precum previously as you rode him.
Did it work? Somewhat.
As you rode him, he let go of a part of your skin and bit another small portion of the skin on your neck, proceeding to suck your skin and give you a hickey.
He left a pinkish colored hickey that probably will fade away pretty soon, you can see his bite marks engraved in your neck.
You moaned while Raven fucked you, biting your bottom lip as he bit your skin.
He wanted to give you so many hickeys.
You haven't gotten a chance to suck on other cocks, so you turned your head to Havok's penis, where he pulled and inserted his dick into your mouth.
You started sucking his precum drenched cock, your mouth going up his shaft while you sucked it, swallowing his precum that trickled down his penis.
You'd rather have Martyr's dick in your mouth, but Havok and Kaz need turns as well.
Kaz, on the other hand, pointed his dick at your face, his hand still jacking his penis off and precum splattering on your face and down his shaft.
You're moaning while you have Havok's cock stuffed your mouth, buzzing around his shaft.
Martyr was the first one to cum, leaning his head back and groaning long as he jizzed, his slit releasing his seed on your face.
Thankfully, your eyes were closed and you won't get it in your eyes.
His slit spit out his cum running down his shaft and some of it got on your face, his jizz white and milky.
Raven growled while he bit your skin, and he proceeded to let go of your skin and bite other parts of your neck and suck them.
You can feel his breath on your skin while you ride him.
Since Raven hasn't had a chance to do this, his fingers tweaked and turned your nipples while you rode him.
He's taking you higher with your orgasm while he fucks you with his massive Jewish cock.
You want to moan his name and cry out, but you can't.
Your arms feel tired from having them up in the air for so long, and Kaz and Havok's wrists and hands (and probably their arms) must feel sore from holding you up so long.
Havok's had enough time having his cock sucked, so you turned your head to Kaz's penis and started sucking on his dick this time, his cock entering your mouth and swallowing his precum.
Martyr just jizzed not too long ago and you wanna suck his dick right now, but Kaz needs a turn.
Eventually, Kaz was the second person to cum, he jizzed inside your mouth, where you swallowed all of his cum leaking out of his slit and down his shaft.
Kaz groaned and bit his bottom lip when he came, shutting his eyes tight.
When you didn't taste anymore cum on his dick, you turned your head to Martyr, sucking on his cock.
Raven was the next one to jizz, groaning while he climaxed, biting on your skin hard, filling your twat up with his seed.
The last one to cum was Havok, who came on your face.
Actually, you were the last one to cum, and you creamed all over Raven's cock inside your pussy, your clitoris pounding after you came.
There was so much build up in your orgasm, you felt like you were gonna explode in your clitoris.
When they as well as you had all came, Raven moved his hands to your hips and pulled you off of his lap, his penis escaping out of your twat.
You sucked on Martyr's penis, cleaning it off with your mouth, swallowing his jizz.
You sucked off Raven, Havok and Kaz's dicks in that order, cleaning their penises and swallowing their cum.
After their dicks were all cleaned, Kaz, Havok and Martyr in that order all got turns to spank your ass with that paddle as well as bite and suck your neck, giving you hickeys all over your neck.
Vince Russo, one of the writers of TNA, probably would love an idea where you're being Serotonin's sex toy with your hands tied up while Raven's spanking you, rubbing your tits in candlewax while you have the other members of Serotonin's jizz on your face and tits, they all get turns to paddle your ass and eat your pussy and fuck you and they get their cocks all sucked.
#serotonin#tna#raven#michael shane#frank kazarian#johnny devine#martyr#kaz#havok#2000s#00s#fanfiction
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stanley’s sister has got it going on | r.t.
richie’s got a crush and he’s got it bad. the only thing that’s keeping him from the girl he’s been chasing is his best friend—her brother.
word count: 4,665
warnings/included: nsfw (not explicit), fluff, swearing, fem!reader
a/n: as i was rereading this i realized that this is the dirtiest thing i’ve ever written??? (so far). in comparison to other works it’s probably vv vanilla so pls bear with me
-
In the defense of Richie Tozier, it wasn’t his fault he ended up catching feelings for Stanley Uris’s little sister. There were a lot of things he couldn’t control. Like when his mouth opened and out came a poorly done impression of his chemistry teacher. (Which just so happened to have been done as Mr. Ford was standing behind the boy).
Richie may as well just start a list of things he can’t help, marking y/n Uris down as number thirty-three.
“Hey, Richie!” Well, well, well, if it wasn’t the person Richie had been most desperately trying to avoid. “Are you going to Stan’s tonight?” y/n asked. She was standing outside of his car door while he was in the driver’s seat, flicking through the radio stations, trying to find a good song for the ride home.
Upon hearing the voice, Richie stopped fidgeting with the knob. It was honestly hopeless trying to find a good song at this point. None of the good stuff comes on until later. He turned his head to meet eyes with the accompanying voice from outside his car.
Bad idea.
Of course, y/n chose to wear a tank top and the shortest skirt possible that day. Hell, any day he’d find his thoughts lost in her. Whether she was wearing a bikini at the quarry or in an oversized t-shirt and checkered pajama pants.
“Earth to Richie?” y/n laughed. She waved her hand in front of his face, trying to capture his attention. Little did she know, that wasn’t necessary.
“Actually, I was thinking about being a no-show today. I’ve been neglecting my training.”
“Oh! You train? Which gym?” She was grinning wide and her gaze burned a hole through his heart.
“The arcade. I gotta keep my skills fresh if I ever wanna keep that high score.” y/n rolled her eyes, but his comment still made her laugh.
“Well, can you take me home? Once you drop me off I promise you can have all the time in the world to work on your skills.” Emphasis on ‘skills’.
“Promise, eh?” Richie repeated, giving the girl a hard time. “Did Stan forget how to drive?”
“No…” The ‘o’ part was drawn out. “He has his bird watching club today and I don’t feel like sitting in the sun for an hour while I wait for him.”
Richie smiled to himself, thinking for a moment. On one hand, he shouldn’t be alone with the sister of one of his best friends’, as he had different intentions. On the other hand, he couldn’t just leave his best friend’s sister hanging like that. In hindsight, he had come to the conclusion that there was a possibility of Stan getting mad at him either way.
Taking Stan’s sister home it was.
“What are you waiting for, y/n/n, get in.” Richie finally made his decision.
y/n cheered happily, thanking him, as she rounded his car and opened the door to the passenger’s seat.
“You have no idea how happy this makes me!” y/n smiled, her expression reaching ear to ear.
“Oh yeah. I bet you’re over the moon about getting a ride from your brother’s best friend in some beat up chevy.” Richie tried his best to distance himself. He really did. But he couldn’t help but notice y/n’s figure in the tight-fitting clothes, especially when she sat in such a close proximity to him.
“I don’t think you get it, Tozier.” y/n hummed as she started turning the knob on the dash, finally settling on some rock station. She lowered the volume so they could still talk without yelling over the atmosphere. “We never hang out.”
“We’re hangin’ out right now,” Richie argued, daring to look away from the road for one millisecond just so he could steal a glance at her.
“Yeah, but… You hang out with Bill, Eddie, and Stan, and stuff.” She sounded disappointed.
“I guess it’s different with them.” Richie shrugged. It was different with them. Bill, Eddie, Stan, Ben, and Beverly even, had their group together. They had the same classes together. They faced off a killer clown together.
“I get that you guys have your own friend group and stuff.” y/n said quickly, not wanting to sound lonely or weird from her previous statement. “But we’re friends. Aren’t we?” She said this with an unsureness in her voice that Richie didn’t know how to reply to.
I should’ve just left her at school. What’s so bad about waiting in the sun while Stan’s off watching some stupid birds? I guess it is kind of hot out. But a little heat won’t hurt anyone, right? Besides, she’s wearing a tank top.
Richie peered over at y/n who was looking out the window as her head leaned against it.
A white, lacy tank top that makes her skin look even more—
“Richie?” Concern washed over the girl’s eyes. Her attention turned to him instead of the scenery that passed by them.
Richie whipped his head away from her body and stared blankly at the road. It was almost as if he were a ghost. Except he actually had color in his face.
“What is it, y/n/n?” Richie’s eyes were still on the road.
“I asked if we were friends.” The girl giggled, not being able to take anything seriously for longer than five minutes. “But that’s a stupid question.” She looked down and began to pick at her nails.
“Of course we’re friends.” Richie insisted. The only problem is that I want more and your brother would kill me.
Something inside of y/n calmed at the affirmation. “So we should hang out.”
“Already told ya, y/n/n. I got a date with destiny today.”
“I don’t mind being the third wheel.”
To be frank, that was the last thing Richie needed. It was bad enough that middle schoolers would wait lined up behind him, watching as he lost at some silly arcade game that he still had a passion for. He didn’t need some hot girl hanging over his shoulder while he did so, too. But Richie’s mouth had betrayed his thoughts.
“Only if you want to, y/n/n.” He had avoided trying to call y/n anything other than her name or her nickname. He wouldn’t allow himself to call her any of the cutesy trademark pet names he’d call other girls that he would shamelessly flirt with for fun. He started implementing this tactic in sophomore year once he really started to notice her.
At first, it was the way she greeted him every time the losers met up at Stan’s house. Maybe he was crazy, but he swore she gave him special attention: always running up towards him when she saw him, her lingering by his side before Stan yelled at her, asking if she had anything better to do. Her smile was seemingly wider and her eyes brighter whenever she held conversations with him compared to the other losers—or maybe that was just Richie looking into things too much.
Due to drama and false rumors, y/n had started hanging out with the losers more this year. It was an attempt for her to take her mind off of the absence of friends on her part. None of the losers seemed to mind, even Stan. Thus, she became a regular when the group went on swimming trips to the quarry or slept over at each other’s houses. This didn’t really help Richie’s case. Now, he was basically forced to see her figure in a swimsuit and in every other setting imaginable. Not to mention, he couldn’t do anything about it either.
The two had finally arrived at the arcade. Richie had managed to snag the closest parking spot to the entryway and y/n relentlessly made fun of how he never parked straight until they got in the door.
“Okay, kid. Once you get your license, you can criticize my ‘bad’ parking. But for now, since you’re hitching rides for free, I say you better just keep quiet for now.”
“But you’re so over the lines! I can’t imagine your coloring if that’s how you park.”
“I’ll have you know, y/n, I don’t color. For one, that shit’s for babies. And I am way past that preschool shit. And second of all, coloring’s way lame.” Richie had made his way over to the Street Fighter machine and inserted a quarter in the slot.
y/n watched him thoughtfully for awhile as he fidgeted with the joystick and jammed the buttons.
“Do you want anything to drink?” she asked, growing bored of watching the same repetitive visuals from over his shoulder. But she didn’t think she could ever grow tired of watching him.
“Hold on.” His hand smashed against the buttons in rapid fire movements while he simultaneously maneuvered the joystick. A few seconds after, the game played a pitiful noise and the boy let out a groan. Richie had lost.
“That’s a weird way of saying coke.” y/n hummed before skipping off to the lounge area.
On her way back, she saw Richie’s face contort in frustration. Once again, he had lost to the game.
“Cheer up, buttercup!” y/n passed handed him the glass bottle and Richie had finally stepped away from the Street Fighter machine.
“Easy for you to say. You don’t got an inanimate object beating ya four to one.” Richie pretended to wipe the nonexistent sweat off his brow and looked down to y/n, offering her a smug look.
“Would a kiss make you feel better?” The girl leaned closer to him and got up on her tippy toes, preparing to peck him on his cheek.
This was the first of y/n showing any sign of real interest. And while Richie wanted to bask in the glory of his long time crush finally coming around, his thoughts also drew to Stan. What kind of friend would he be if he made a move on his friend’s little sister? Technically she’s the one making the moves-
Cut it out, Rich!
His internal monologue argued for a while before he realized y/n’s lips were attached to his face.
“W-what are you doing?” Richie belatedly snapped out of his thoughts and came to his senses.
y/n pulled away. Her arms crossed tightly around her chest and her posture was now slightly hunched over. Oh.
“I thought I could make you feel better.” She mumbled. When she eventually spoke, she let out a breath she wasn’t aware she was holding in. “Can you take me home?” She asked, though it was more of a statement than a question.
“Of course.” The two started heading for the door and Richie tried to slow his pace so that his long legs would be in sync with hers. “To be honest, y/n/n, I was kinda getting tired of this ol’ dump anyways.”
A small smile graced y/n’s lips as he talked. Even if she was still embarrassed from the previous events.
“You’re not gonna be a professional video game player?”
“Oh no. That dream’s been abandoned for a long time now.” Richie quipped back. He was turning the keys into the ignition and began to drive off.
The car ride to Stan’s place was silent. Either because of the turn that had taken place earlier at the arcade, or because Richie didn’t wanna open his big mouth and accidentally slip up; ruining his relationship with both Stan the Man and Stan the Man’s hot sister.
Richie’s old chevy slowly came to a stop at the front of Stan’s house. The sky was cloudless and an unnerving shade of blue today, highlighting how perfectly trim and green Uris’s lawn was.
“Do you wanna talk about it?” y/n finally spoke up. Her voice foreign to Richie’s ears after the fifteen minutes of dead air from the two of them. But it wasn’t that foreign. Her voice echoed through his brain practically everyday. Whenever classes got boring or nights seemed endless, Richie found himself either replaying past conversations between them. Or other scenarios… She was an unhealthy addiction he couldn’t quit. Like smoking, only hotter and way more deadly.
“What’s there to talk about?” Richie faced y/n, putting on his best ‘I’m-not-interested-in-you’ face, when he really felt quite the opposite.
“Richie, I feel like you don’t like me.” Her accusation was dead wrong, but there was hurt in her eyes. Somehow, Richie had managed to convince the girl of his dreams he hates her when that couldn’t be less true.
“I don’t.” He forced a chuckle to ease the tension but y/n wasn’t having it.
“Can I tell you something?” y/n asked. Richie nodded, a quizzical look on his face. Before continuing, y/n swallowed. She didn’t usually get nervous, but Richie was someone to get nervous over. “I like you.”
Her words felt like something out of a dream Richie once had before.
“What can I say, kid. It’s impossible not to.” Of course, y/n didn’t really like him. At least, not like that. She was probably just saying this for shits and giggles. Pulling his leg. A classic Richie stunt.
“I mean, I like you like how Ben likes Beverly.”
Richie’s eyes then widened at the declaration and his body stiffened.
“It’s okay if you don’t like me back,” she said with such ease that Richie admired. She shrugged and the thin strap of her tank top fell down her shoulder. Richie couldn’t help but notice, his eyes wandering where they shouldn’t.
“Listen—” He gulped. His eyes kept trailing down no matter how hard he tried not to. “Listen,” he repeated, now meeting her big eyes, “I don’t not like you, y/n/n. In fact the funny thing is… is—” his words got caught in his throat. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her. Not with Stan’s breathing always down his back (whether Stan was actually there or not).
“What’s so funny, Rich?” Her soft, sweet voice filled his ears once again. It was like a spell, because suddenly (and conveniently), the thought of Stan was no longer in the back of Richie’s mind.
“I like you too, kid.” His voice was low, but y/n still heard him.
“So what’s stopping this?” A sly smirk formed on y/n’s face. She climbed over the control panel and her already short skirt rode up to be even higher.
y/n sat herself on Richie’s lap. The boy had to keep from pinching himself. What was happening was straight out of a wet dream of his he’d probably had last night.
The girl on his lap was toying with a strand of his hair while looking into his eyes. Her shoulder was still bare from the strap that fell off it.
“I’m so glad you feel the same way.” Richie didn’t think he could help himself any longer with the sultry way she was speaking and the fact that she was on his lap. “Now I can do this.”
y/n placed a tender kiss to the awestruck boy’s lips. It was slow and steady. She didn’t want to mess things up since they had just admitted their feelings to one another.
But Richie was impatient.
As soon as she pulled away, he connected his lips to hers again. He was sloppy and fast paced with his movements, yet still full of passion.
y/n giggled into his mouth which caused Richie’s heart to skip a beat. She’d been waiting for this moment since she first laid eyes on him.
The first time Richie stepped foot into the Uris household, y/n had greeted him excitedly.
“y/n could you get that!” Stan shouted to her from their den. He was busy setting up board games, making sure every last piece was in its designated place.
“Why do I have to?” y/n grumbled, still walking out of her room so she could get to the door anyway. “You were closer.”
“I’m preparing for game night. This is the first time my friends are coming over and I want everything to be suitable.” Stan was polishing the game pieces now.
“I don’t think your friends will mind if one of your little thing-a-ma-bobs is out of place.” y/n jokingly tipped over one of the players to Stanley’s game that he had already put into place but she quickly put it back upon noticing the discontent that marked his face as she did so.
“I’ll mind.” Her brother replied calmly.
Another knock at the door.
“Can you please get that?”
y/n got up and walked over to the door. She was first met with a lanky boy whose legs were too long for his torso and eyes were too big for his face.
She didn’t expect Stan’s friends to be hot.
“Hi!” y/n exclaimed, hoping to give off a good impression on the group.
“I didn’t know Stan had an underaged maid. I guess the Uris’ will do anything for labor work.” No one laughed at Richies joke.
“That’s Stan’s sister, dipwad,” Eddie said, disgusted at his friend.
Richie made an ‘o’ shape with his mouth and the group shuffled in, meeting Stan in the den.
“Stan you never told me you had a hottie for a sister.” y/n could hear Richie’s voice from across the hall. Her intestines turned into butterflies and she could pass for a canary with how red her face had gotten.
But despite having the hugest crush on Richie, y/n never shared any classes with the boy. She was a year younger than Stan, but in the same grade as him because of the accelerated classes she took. So y/n had to admire from afar.
Well, not anymore.
Her lips were now attached to his neck, eliciting a moan from him. She smirked at that and started to roll her hips against his. Her name fell from his lips over and over and over again which evoked her to keep going.
“Richie!?” An angered voice called from the outside of his car.
It was the one and only. Stanley Uris.
It was too late to act fast. Richie pulled y/n off him and looked guiltily out the window to see the face that matched the voice.
But Richie already knew who it was.
“Who me? I dink you ghat de wrahng goey.” Richie did his best Irish man accent but it was no use.
“Okay, Richie, cut the crap.” Stan’s face was twisted up in an expression that almost scared Richie. His hands were folded against his chest and he was waiting for an answer.
Richie simply couldn’t bring himself to answer the boy. He sat in shame with y/n next to him staring at her brother. Richie may as well have had ‘I’M SORRY’ written on his forehead with the way he was gaping at Stan.
“y/n get out of the car.” Stan said, breaking eye contact with his friend.
The girl complied, whispering about how sorry she was to the boy who drove her home before getting out. After that, she didn’t dare glance back at him in his car and Richie didn’t have the energy to even look anywhere besides the steering wheel.
That was last week. Since then, Stan and Richie hadn’t said a word to each other. Richie hadn’t spoken to y/n since then either. The tension was too thick between Stan and Richie and Richie didn’t want to mess things up more than he already did.
“I c-cuh-can’t believe yo-you liked y/n.” Bill chuckled.
It was after school and the two were in the library. The details of what happened that day eventually got out. Both Stan and Richie had told their sides of the story and the losers were respectful enough to not take sides. They just hung out with Richie when Stan wasn’t around and hung out with Stan when Richie wasn’t there.
“What’s so bad about that?” Richie looked skeptically at his friend, trying his best to defend himself.
“I mean, yea-yeah sh-sh-she’s cute—”
“She’s beautiful.” Richie cut off but Bill rolled his eyes.
“What-h-ever. I-it’s just funny tha-hat you wuh-would go after her.”
“I already told you she kissed me first.” Richie proclaimed, a little too proudly.
“Sh-he’s Stan’s sister!” That was true.
“And a good kisser.” That was also true.
“Gross, Richie.” Bill returned to the book in front of him, but Richie kept egging on the conversation.
“I don’t see why someone has to be off limits just because they’re related to a friend.” His annoyed tone was evident and Bill gave him a sympathetic look.
“It-t’s b-ba-basically written in th-the br-r-ro code.” Bill paused for a moment and Richie didn’t know if it was because he was embarrassed of his stuttering or if he was gathering his thoughts. “But i-i-if you li-li-like her… wh-who am I to s-suh-say any-th-thing.”
If Bill was insinuating what Richie thought he was, then that made him cooler than he already was.
And that’s how Richie found himself in y/n’s room Friday night. The losers were meeting up at the Aladdin to see the new Jim Carrey movie and somehow Richie had been able to get himself out of it, claiming he was overdue on chores and couldn’t make it.
“Th-that’s t-too bad, R-Rich.” Bill said over the phone (but he knew better) while the other losers pressed their ear up against it, listening in. “The c-co-omedy should be ri-right up your alley.”
“Dumb and underdeveloped?” Eddie asked Bill. “I don’t wanna see a movie just to hate it,” he complained.
“Yowza, Eds. And I thought you appreciated my jokes.” Richie feigned hurt over the speaker. “Anywho, I gotta make like a tree and hang up. The ‘rents are asking for me.” They weren’t.
“O-okay. Maybe nuh-nuh-next wee—” Beep.
Richie had already hung up.
y/n grabbed his hand, which was clamped over her mouth and took it off. She was bursting to the seams with laughter.
“I can’t believe you’re a liar now,” she tsked, trying to fake an ‘I’m-not-mad-at-you-just-disappointed’ look that her English teacher had given her once.
“Only under these circumstances.” He was fast to attach his lips to hers. They didn’t have much time and he wanted to make the most of what they had now.
Richie was on top of her now, his lips still on hers. He kissed her everywhere from the crown of her head to the crook of her neck. If his kisses left a print, her skin would be buried under them.
“Rich…” She sighed contentedly, eyes fluttering from the pleasure he inflicted on her when he had found a sweet spot behind her ear. y/n kissed him back hard with force and a sort of dominance Richie didn’t know she had in her.
She flipped them, so that she was on top now. y/n took this liberty of having full control to take off her shirt and Richie’s as well.
Richie smirked and began to kiss lower. His pace was slower than he originally started. Painstakingly slow. y/n wined at how delicate his lips felt tracing her skin but she needed more.
“Touch me,” she urged. Richie obeyed, his hands were now on her chest, massaging and caressing her delicate skin.
There weren’t enough words to describe the thrill and satisfaction Richie gave her. y/n could relish in this boy’s embrace forever with how good he made her feel. She began grinding against his jeans, just like the day they were caught by Stanley, so she could ease the ache for him between his legs.
Richie chuckled, feeling her press against him. He knew precisely what she wanted but to give or not to give in was the question.
“y/n/n, we don’t have that long,” He warned.
“I don’t care.” She started peppering his face in kisses the same way he had done to her. At the same time, she began to unbutton his jeans. Who would Richie be to turn down sex anyway?
She was fast at getting him inside her. Definitely not inexperienced. But Richie didn’t want fast. Not with y/n, at least. He wanted their first together to be slow, sensual, special—
“You’re amazing,” he grunted and she blushed in response.
Her pace quickened at his praise. Their movements together felt electric and y/n herself was so hypnotic, Richie felt he could get lost in the thought—or the feeling —of her forever.
A feeling that was indescribable washed over Richie once the two of them were finished. He had stayed inside of her, and y/n was now laying on his chest, listening to his heartbeat and tracing circles on his skin with her thumb. Their chests rose and fell together at the same time, a small action that Richie melted at the sight of.
“For the record, I didn’t want it to happen like this,” Richie said. There was a sort of fear palpable in his tone.
“For the record, you kissed me first.” y/n eyed him suspiciously before giving him a peck on the cheek. “And what does that mean? Did you…” She shyly decided on her words for a moment. “Did you not want to..?”
“No, no, no, no.” Richie immediately counteracted the girl’s suggestion. “I so wanted to do this. I’ve dreamed about doing this—” Richie stopped himself before his talking could make things worse, but y/n found his rambling amusing.
“So, what did you mean?” y/n tried again. She reached out to hold his hand, intertwining her fingers with his.
“I mean.” He let out a sigh before continuing. “I wanted us to be, like, an official couple and shit before we do this shit.” He motioned between them and to where they were still joined.
y/n flushed at the sight and covered her face.
“Hey.” Richie was soft. Softer than y/n had ever seen him be. He took her wrists in his hands, uncovering her face so he could admire her.
She was stunning even after sex.
“I don’t want this to be a one time thing.” He was almost embarrassed to admit it, but with y/n he didn’t feel the need to be afraid. “I want us to go on dates and hold hands and tell each other about our day.” He was looking at the ceiling, daydreaming at the thought.
y/n’s eyes searched his face thoughtfully. “Of course, Rich. I want that, too!” She kissed his lips once more, elated at the boy in front of her. Her face fell shortly after she had a sudden understanding. “What’re you gonna do about Stan?”
“Who’s Stan?” But Richie’s fake grin wasn’t fooling anyone. “Uh, well, we could tell him…” But when Richie saw a certain uneasiness consume y/n’s face, he ruled that option out. “How do you feel about dating in secret?” He offered. The situation wasn’t ideal, but at the time it seemed to be the lesser of the two evils at hand.
“Okay,” y/n whispered. “So you should leave.”
“Woah, babe, I just got here.” Richie sat up, looking for his shirt.
“Yeah, but the movie should’ve ended by now.” y/n gestured towards the alarm clock on her nightstand causing Richie’s jaw to drop.
He was heading towards the window now, knowing he had enough time to get out, but he wanted to be careful.
“See you tomorrow then?” y/n giggled at how clingy he could be.
“I’ll call you.” And Richie just couldn’t get enough of the smile she was wearing.
“Sounds like a date!” He yelled from outside her house.
During the drive home, Richie’s thoughts became lost in y/n once again. This was just the beginning.
#it 2017#it 2019#it chapter 1#it chapter 2#it x reader#it imagine#it fanfic#it fic#richie tozier#it richie#richie tozier x reader#richie x reader#richie tozier imagine#richie tozier fanfiction#richie tozier fic#richie tozier scenario#richie tozier fluff#richie tozier smut#bruh can this be classified as smut idk
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