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peaceoutofthepieces · 2 years

Note

#13 hug with nick and charlie?

more post canon content because there can never be enough nick-in-uni fics. warnings for discussions about charlie’s ed and other mental health issues in this one, along with the usual overbearing amount of fluff and nick being hopelessly in love <3

13. the hug to hide your tears

Nick had been mastering the art of turning himself into a blanket-burrito when the knock sounded on his dorm door. He closed his eyes and huffed a sigh out through his nose, burrowing deeper into his pillow, debating whether he needed to answer or not. There wasn’t really many people it could be, and he wasn’t really in the mood to see anyone.

He had a relatively good number of friends here, though not many who’d show up at his room. He’d always been used to merging naturally with people, until he wasn’t, and while in one way it came to him easily when he first got here, it was very difficult in another. Internally, he was much more cautious. He hadn’t paid enough attention to, hadn’t cared enough about, what the friends he’d made so easily in secondary school were actually like, and ultimately, that hadn’t gone well for him. He wanted university to be different.

He discovered quite quickly, though, that it was. He’d almost been sick the first time he’d met the rugby team, and while some of the locker-room, overbearing-masculinity was still present, it was different. Maybe it was because they were all older, and a bit more mature, but Nick knew there were more than a few of his teammates who would step up for him if necessary. Some he definitely considered friends, others he was happy to chat with as part of the team, and only few he felt it was best not to acknowledge too much. Aside from that, he had friends from his classes and the dorms and generally around campus—many of whom were queer in some way, which settled some clawing thing in Nick and made him feel a bit more at home.

But of them all, there were very few who were likely to show up at his door at this time of the evening for any good reason.

It was, most likely, something that could wait. Nick could simply stay where he was, and wallow a bit more in the dull mood that had been swallowing him for the past few days. He didn’t have to deal with anyone; eventually, they’d get the message, and leave. If it was really important, surely they would have texted him first.

There was only one person Nick really wanted to see, and he was a couple hundred miles away.

He tucked himself up tighter in his blanket, and bit down a frustrated groan when a second knock came—louder, more insistent.

He rolled out of the bed, mournfully shedding his blankets before he marched to the door, yanked it open, and—

Froze.

Charlie stood in the doorway, hand half-raised as if suspecting he’d need to knock again, with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He gave Nick an awkward little wave, even as his lips instantly split into a soft, beaming smile. “Hi.”

Nick stared at him. His hand slowly slid away from the door handle to hang limply by his side. “Charlie?”

The smile slowly started to slide from his boyfriend’s face as he lifted the strap of his bag over his head and clutched it tightly in his hand. His boyfriend, who was here, standing right in front of him. His boyfriend’s face which he could reach up and touch, if he wanted to, so familiar and beautiful and close, not in a crackly video call or an Instagram post or a goofy selfie sent between classes or late at night.

Here. In person. Where Nick could look without any glitches; where he could reach out and touch if he wanted to.

God, did he want to.

“Sorry, I—I wanted to surprise you, and anyway it was kind of a last minute decision, but I should’ve texted, you’re probab—”

Nick cut Charlie off by yanking him into a fierce hug.

“Oh,” Charlie said.

His bag thumped onto the floor by Nick’s feet and his arms came up to wrap around Nick’s waist, and Nick let out a shuddering breath, holding on tighter. Charlie had voiced his appreciation for Nick’s hugs more than once, commenting on how comforting they were, how much he liked that Nick always held onto him so tightly. Nick hadn’t realised before then that Charlie hadn’t realised Nick clinging onto him as if his life depended on it was not exactly for Charlie’s sake. He was just glad to know Charlie appreciated it, regardless. Nick had no issue with hugging him as often as possible.

He eventually cleared his throat enough to mumble, “You’re really here.” He tucked his face into Charlie’s neck, nuzzling his way past the creases of the hood of Charlie’s coat. Underneath, Charlie’s skin was soft and cool when Nick pressed his nose against it.

Charlie burrowed closer to Nick in return, a shuddering breath escaping him. “Yeah. So are you.”

Nick pressed his face harder to Charlie’s skin, enough so that his lips brushed the hammering beat of Charlie’s pulse and Charlie made another soft, choked sound. “God, what are you doing here?” Nick asked. He didn’t actually care; he had Charlie in his arms, and all the hows and the whys in the world didn’t matter. But he wasn’t entirely convinced this wasn’t a dream, or a trick hallucination his mind was playing on him in an attempt to save itself. If it was rationalised to him, if Charlie offered him any how and why that made sense, then Nick would be more readily able to believe it.

“Can I come in first?” Charlie asked into his shoulder. Nick walked backwards, taking Charlie with him and nudging his bag further into the room with his foot, then flapped a hand out to close the door. To close them in. Together again, after much too long.

Nick pulled back from Charlie just enough to kiss him. It would be a better confirmation than any explanation Charlie could offer him, anyway. Kissing Charlie Spring was an experience Nick could never perfectly capture in a dream, not even in his wildest imagination. The Charlie of Nick’s dreams would do whatever he wanted, go with Nick’s flow and know just how to make it work. The Charlie in Nick’s arms knew what he wanted. He knew how to surprise Nick while his dreams never could. He’d gathered all the right tricks up his sleeve through a couple of years of practice, and he knew exactly how to make it work, too, how to take Nick apart with one simple suck of his lips or idle flick of his tongue. He knew that he’d only have to press the very tips of his fingers to Nick’s bare skin after deftly slipping his hands up the back of Nick’s t-shirt, and Nick would be all his. So he did, and Nick was.

“Charlie,” Nick said. Then all he was able to say was, “Charlie, Charlie, Charlie,” over and over and over again, aligned with every thump, thump, thump of his heart.

Charlie retorted, “Nick,” a protest as much as a plea, and Nick ripped his mouth away even as Charlie’s hands pressed flat to the small of his back, chilled fingers against warm muscle.

He dropped his forehead against Charlie’s and sucked in a breath, only to have it stolen by the feel of Charlie’s on his skin, soft ripples of air over his lips and chin. So close they could breathe each other in. Nick’s heart stuttered at the repeated realisation. “If you keep kissing me, I won’t let you stop.”

“That’s fine by me,” Charlie breathed, which Nick really should have expected. Charlie’s eyes were still trained on Nick’s lips, his fingertips still digging into the meat of Nick’s back, and his curls—grown out and feathery soft—brushed against Nick’s forehead, tangled in the swoop of Nick’s strands to make a blend of black and gold. As different as night and day; neither able to exist without the other.

Nick stroked Charlie’s cheek, letting his other hand fall and loop around Charlie’s waist, keeping him tucked close. “Are you okay? When did you decide to do this? I thought we weren’t going to be able to see each other for another two weeks.”

Initially, they’d hoped they could see each other every two weeks. Charlie would take the train to him, or Nick would take it home, and they’d get all they could out of a weekend together before they had to return to the real world. But as it turned out, the real world carried into those weekends. Charlie was doing his final year, and he was a good enough student that Nick knew it could go extremely well for him, if Charlie just kept neatly on track. Nick was doing his first year, and trying his best to work out a new rhythm, to find his feet without tripping up and flunking anything, bringing the experience to an end before it could even properly begin.

It was a lot, for both of them, and it meant a lot to both of them, and they both wanted nothing but the best for each other. And that meant weekends of Nick holed up in his dorm room scrambling to finish an assignment or off campus altogether for an away rugby match, and it meant weekends of Charlie bogged down with homework and studying or carefully working his way through college searches and applications without working himself up too much over the unknown.

It meant more time apart than they would have liked, and it meant that Charlie here, in his arms on a Thursday night, was nothing short of a miracle.

Or some sort of breakdown.

“Yeah, well, that’s why I decided to do this,” Charlie said, aiming for light and not quite reaching it—not with how tightly he still clung to Nick. His breath hitched. “I just—I really missed you, Nick. God, I missed you so much.”

“Char,” Nick whispered, heart cracking with the memory of that same aching absence he’d been feeling less than thirty minutes ago, and Charlie’s eyes welled up.

Nick bundled him back into his embrace and squeezed his eyes shut at the hitches of Charlie’s breath against his shoulder, the damp press of his cheek at Nick’s neck. As much as he wished to sink into Charlie with as little as possible in the way, he was glad now that the bulk of Charlie’s coat caught the majority of his own tears.

“I missed you, too,” he mumbled. “I always miss you.”

The next hitch of Charlie’s breath was more pronounced. “Really?”

“God, yes,” Nick said emphatically, not even bothering to keep the whine out of his voice. “You know I do.”

It had been the thing, at the start. Nick never considered not going to university, but he had thought a lot about how much he would miss Charlie, and he still hadn’t fully realised quite how hard it would be until he got here. He’d gone from seeing Charlie basically every day for a couple of years to hardly seeing him at all, and the full distress of it only took a week to hit Nick.

And was still hitting him, constantly. Hence his earlier attempt at curling up in a ball and hiding away.

He still wanted to do that, but now he wanted to curl around Charlie and hide away with him, never needing to be parted again. It didn’t help that the more he thought about why Charlie was here to begin with, what his I missed you so much meant and what was driving those tears, the more worried he felt.

“Hey,” he murmured, pulling away enough to thumb Charlie’s tears from his cheeks—entirely ignoring his own—and give him another gentle kiss. “Come on, come sit with me.”

Charlie didn’t have to be asked twice. He let Nick push his coat off his shoulders and toss it onto the desk chair, then allowed himself to be pulled onto Nick’s bed. Nick settled against the headboard and Charlie settled himself against Nick, shuddering once and tucking in as close as he could get.

Nick wrapped his arms around him, burying his face in Charlie’s soft curls and taking a moment just to breathe, to feel Charlie’s fingers trace and press wondering touches along his ribs. “I can’t believe your mum let you come. You have school tomorrow. She did let you, right? Oh god, wait, Charlie, if you’ve run—”

“Oh my god,” Charlie interrupted, laughing slightly as he squeezed Nick’s side. “Calm down. She let me. Dad even drove me to the train station.” He paused, but tacked on an explanation before Nick could ask. “I think she was more worried about what would happen if she didn’t let me than about me missing a day of school.”

Nick’s body locked up, arms tensing around Charlie. He lifted his head to look down at him, but Charlie’s face was half-mushed into Nick’s chest and tilted down. “Char. Are you…you didn’t—”

“No, no,” Charlie hastily reassured him. “I’m fine. Well. I’m not—it’s—I mean, a little crying definitely worked to my advantage, but I didn’t…I haven’t relapsed, or anything.”

It was only a mumble, but it was firm, and Nick pushed his face back into Charlie’s hair and let out a breath, hugging him just a bit closer. “But you were thinking about it?” he asked quietly.

Charlie shook his head slightly, with another adamant little, “No.” Nick was ready to prod the denial when Charlie, again, elaborated on his own. “I mean, not anymore than it’s just…there. I don’t think I would have,” he said, which wasn’t perfectly reassuring, but which was honest, and Nick always felt that was better. Then Charlie added, even quieter, “It wouldn’t have been your fault, if I did,” and this time Nick was the one to shudder and burrow closer, wondering how Charlie always managed to cut off his worries at the root so quickly.

It wasn’t what Nick hated most—that was being away from Charlie, full stop. But the concern of being away from Charlie and Charlie needing him ate at him frequently, especially in those same first few weeks. He’d sat then, more than once, in the middle of the night with his phone clutched in his hand, staring at his text thread with Charlie and feeling his stomach roil. Typing ‘are you alright?’ and ‘everything’s okay, yeah?’ and ‘I love you’ over and over, then continuously convincing himself not to send them. Because Charlie was just sleeping, and Nick had only talked to him a few hours ago, and he was fine, but what if he wasn’t and Nick’s phone was actually about to start buzzing with a furious, frantic call from Tori, because Charlie wasn’t alright but if anyone, if Nick, had just been there—

It had driven him crazy, and when he’d gone home the first time, Charlie had noticed. It was probably hard not to, with how obviously Nick had gone directly to his house and latched onto him, then refused to let go for the rest of the weekend. How constantly he’d been running his hands over Charlie could probably have been brushed off as missing and wanting, and the distance had definitely amped up the urgency to do things, for both of them. But even in the quieter, stiller moments, Nick’s touch would be there—checking Charlie over.

They’d talked about it, then. They’d talked about it even before Nick left, but they talked about it then, again, and Charlie had bluntly reminded Nick that even his being a ten-minute distance away hadn’t been enough to stop him, so far. That Charlie’s struggles were his own, and Nick couldn’t keep him from them twenty-four-seven, but he knew Nick was still there. And so were his parents, and their friends, and Tori, and Geoff, now, if it came to it. Charlie had evidently even gone to Tori, as well, who cornered Nick the same day just to say, “I’d probably think to text you even before mum. Don’t be an idiot. You’ll know anything you need to know once I do,” which was both more reassuring and gratifying than Nick had expected it to be.

Then, once he’d gone back, she’d texted him after only a day, and he’d almost had a heart attack. But it had been a short video of Charlie, Oliver, and Michael playing Mario Kart, with Charlie very audibly cackling as he inevitably slaughtered them. The message had read ‘he does miss you a disgusting amount, but it clearly isn’t stopping him’. After that, he got something from Tori at least once a week. He always replied, and she usually didn’t, but that was fine. It was a system put in place to reassure Nick that Charlie wasn’t simply lying to him, and he appreciated it more than he could say. Plus, it was a photo or video of Charlie about seventy-percent of the time, with the other thirty composed of Tori’s short, dry, borderline-sarcastic assurances that never failed to make Nick smile, regardless.

Sometimes, she’d be a bit more genuine, like at the start of this week when she’d messaged him, ‘he’s been a bit quiet. hasn’t skipped dinner yet, but hasn’t been clearing his plate. be extra nice, and check in with tao maybe, yeah?’

Nick had checked in with Tao, and Charlie wasn’t completely skipping lunch, either, but he was ‘cranky’. He hadn’t been when he was talking to Nick, though. Nick had made a point of calling more than texting him, and he had sounded tired, and he’d sprinkled ‘I miss you’s into the conversation more frequently, but he’d also still laughed easily at Nick’s stories and hadn’t skipped any of his usual teasing. He hadn’t been overly distressed or panicky when he picked up on Nick’s own dwindling mood. But he’d been sympathetic and even quieter, and today, Nick had barely heard from him at all.

Now he supposed he knew why. Maybe he already knew why Charlie’s mum was a bit worried, too.

It would be the automatic next step, to berate himself for likely making matters worse, but Charlie had already deemed him free of fault.

So instead he just said, “What’s been going on, then?”

Charlie didn’t answer immediately. He was still trying to press himself closer to Nick, fingers fluttering and gripping by Nick’s ribs and knees knocking together in an attempt to fit. Nick decided enough was enough and drew Charlie into his lap by hooking a hand behind Charlie’s knee and lifting it over his legs. Charlie made a soft sound of surprise, but quickly adjusted, shuffling until his knees were pressed into the bed either side of Nick’s hips. Nick put an arm around his waist and pressed them chest to chest, then tucked Charlie’s head into his neck, and pressed a kiss to his temple.

“It’s just really hard,” Charlie said, eventually.

Nick passed a hand through Charlie’s hair, and Charlie sunk into him. “What is?”

“A levels,” Charlie muttered darkly.

Nick blinked.

Then he said, “Oh.”

Instantly, he understood. He’d been there, a year ago. Nick was not the most easily stressed person, and it had easily been the most stressful period of his life thus far. Different, even, to his coming out and Charlie’s stint in the hospital—more mundane, and more drawn-out, and all the more stressful as something he should have been able to control, while feeling like he had no grasp whatsoever. With everything else, he’d had to ride it out. He and Charlie had done that together. And Charlie was always there, when he was studying for his exams and taking his exams and figuring out what came after, and still, the constant stress and pressure was in Nick’s own head, filling his chest. It was something he had to deal with, and it had been a lot.

In all his worrying about Charlie, and not being there, and their conversations about exactly this, he hadn’t thought about Charlie having to go through that same experience, now. Because Charlie was smart. In all his struggles and doubts, Charlie had still always remained an extremely impressive student. None of them doubted he would do well in his A levels.

But Nick knew that didn’t help. He wondered, if anything, if the easy expectations stressed Charlie more.

“Oh, Char,” he murmured. “How stressed have you been?”

Charlie heaved a sigh. “What do you think?”

Nick made a distressed, sympathetic sound and gave him a squeeze. He petted a hand through Charlie’s hair again, and relaxed some when Charlie melted a little further. “I’m sorry. I should’ve remembered how awful it gets right about now.” How much more awful it must be for Charlie, when it was something he had to worry about on top of everything else. Nick had barely remembered to eat, some days, when he was sludging his way through piles of homework and a shoddy study schedule and uni applications. Charlie had been the one to reprimand him for it more often than not, slipping into Nick’s room with two plates and a flurry of gentle, reassuring kisses. That Charlie had any appetite for even one of his meals in the day right now was a small miracle.

“It’s okay,” Charlie said.

“It’s not,” Nick insisted. “It’s a lot, and I know that. You’re doing so well, Charlie.”

Charlie sighed again. “All things considered, you mean?”

“Well, yeah,” Nick said. Honesty was still the best policy. He moved his hands to Charlie’s face, cupping his cheeks and tilting his head up so Nick could look at him. “A levels are stressful for everyone and they make it hard to keep a steady routine. It makes sense you’re struggling.” He tilted his forehead against Charlie’s, offering him a soft smile. “Honestly, I’m impressed you’re still managing what you are. You’re doing so good.”

Charlie didn’t have to ask how Nick would know, because none of them pretended Tori and their friends didn’t update him, and because Charlie was likely to update Nick himself before he would anyone else. He nuzzled his head against Nick’s now and bit his lip. “Do you think?”

“Absolutely.”

“Well. Geoff’s been helping me, a bit.”

Nick’s smile softened further. “Yeah? You have been talking to him about it, then?”

Charlie nodded. “Yeah. It’s—I’ve been—I know Tori and my parents have noticed I’m not finishing any of my food. But they haven’t said anything. I got…I was really annoyed with myself about it, before that, but Geoff said I shouldn’t think of it that way. He said at the start, I would’ve hardly been able to even look at the plate, and I didn’t have exam stress like this then. He said it was impressive that I was still sticking to a schedule and eating what I could. He helped me work out a new plan, so none of the meals feel as big or don’t take as much time, or whatever.”

“And is it better?”

Charlie’s own smile was a little wobbly, and he admitted, “Not really.” Nick rubbed his back, and he ducked his head back into Nick’s neck, bringing his arms up to wrap around Nick’s shoulders. “I guess because that isn’t, like, actually the main problem right now. I just…I needed a break.” Charlie’s voice cracked, and Nick hugged him tight again. “I needed to see you.”

“That’s okay,” Nick whispered, pressing another kiss to Charlie’s temple, rubbing his back once more. “Geoff’s right. Whatever you can manage is better than nothing, yeah? Knowing what you need and working on it is what matters.”

“Thanks,” Charlie whispered back. “I was just—I’d been doing so well, and I don’t want it to…”

“You’re still doing well,” Nick insisted. “That’s what matters. Some days are going to be harder, and that’s okay. Just do it one at a time, right?”

Charlie’s lips curled in a soft smile—Nick felt it against his skin. “See, this is why I wanted to see you.”

Nick made a mock-affronted noise. “What? Not because I’m so sexy you couldn’t stand another day without my killer kisses?”

Charlie snorted. Loudly. Which Nick could’ve pretended to be offended by, if he wasn’t wearing such a massive grin. Really, he thought, this was why Charlie would have wanted to see him. Because this was what they were like. No matter how low or stressful things got, they’d thread through a little bit of light with their love. They would find something to laugh together about. They would share soothing kisses wherever it hurt.

Which was surely what Charlie intended now, if the way he looked coyly up at Nick from under his lashes was any indication. “Well, I guess there’s that, too.”

Nick’s grin widened, and then Charlie was kissing it away, and then there was a lot more grinning and kissing in a much less joking way. It was harder to miss Charlie when he was weaving his hands through Nick’s hair, or sliding them under Nick’s shirt before Nick could peel it off, or tossing his own shirt aside with no hesitation and pressing them back together. He wasn’t thinking about missing Charlie, and he wasn’t thinking about how many assignments he still had due within the next few weeks, or the upcoming rugby match the team already seemed sure they were going to lose. And he didn’t think Charlie was thinking about A levels, or meal plans, or missing Nick, either.

It had concerned Nick, too, at the start. That he’d just started to feel like he was getting good at doing things and that it was something they both frequently wanted to do in the first place. He’d worried that maybe he’d forget, or that Charlie would struggle with shyness all over again, and it would be like another first time but worse, because they’d feel like it shouldn’t be so awkward, now.

But it wasn’t. It hadn’t been, any time. It was familiar and comfortable and deliriously good when combined with the euphoria of simply occupying each other’s space again. He’d wondered why he’d ever been worried, but it didn’t matter, because he wasn’t now. He knew exactly where to fit his hands and press his lips and sweep his tongue, and how, and when, and Charlie worked him over just as easily, with just as little hesitation, in return.

It was a bit like riding a bike, Nick thought, then wondered if that made him the bike in this situation, and laughed a little deliriously. Charlie gave him a crinkled, curious look that Nick took to mean you’re so weird and I love you and blessedly didn’t stop.

“Seen as much of me as you wanted, now?” Nick asked teasingly, once he was sated and breathless and had Charlie tucked into his side once more, no longer burrowing or hiding but quiet and content as he returned to tracing Nick’s ribs, fingers now tapping along bare skin.

He pulled himself up to kiss Nick’s cheek, then pressed his nose there briefly, tucking his leg over Nick’s. “Never,” he said honestly, and Nick turned to kiss him again.

When Charlie’s stomach rumbled ten minutes later, Nick made them a toasted sandwich to split. Charlie ate every pick of his half with his curly hair mussed around his face and one of Nick’s jumpers hanging from his shoulders. Nick took a photo to eventually add to the collection on his wall. It was a sight he knew he wanted to see every day.

Charlie gave him a half-amused, half-unimpressed look. There wasn’t even a hint of the sadness of an hour before. Nick just grabbed him by the waist, and held on, and kissed him, and held on, and held on.

The good thing about being in uni with a boyfriend that didn’t live ten minutes away anymore, was that when said boyfriend came to visit, he had nowhere else to go when the sun went. There was no one to tell him he couldn’t spend the night in Nick’s bed, or to wake him within ten minutes of falling asleep on Nick’s shoulder and order him home. When he was here, he was here to stay, and Nick loved it more than he knew how to put into words.

It was all he could feel, though, when he looked at Charlie asleep next to him. Charlie, who looked soft and worry-free, asleep, the creases of stress all gone as he snuffled into Nick’s pillow and unconsciously tightened his grip on Nick’s waist. Nick easily went where he was wanted, pressing a featherlight kiss to Charlie’s head. He knew all those bits of stress would come back, and would likely get worse, now and again, throughout the year. He knew even while Charlie was here, or in whatever time Nick spent at home, he wouldn’t be able to prevent it completely. Probably not even at all.

But he could make things a little less awful, maybe. He could make Charlie smile, and provide hugs and kisses, and feed him when Charlie let him. He could be there as much as possible, like Charlie was for him, and in between, they’d work on each day as it came, and that was all that mattered.

And eventually, Nick wouldn’t have to be worried about missing Charlie again even when the sun came up. They’d fall asleep just like this, and wake up just like this, and they wouldn’t be dreadfully counting down the minutes they had left. It would be just like the past couple of years since they’d met, only better. Nick would forget completely what missing Charlie felt like, and A levels and long distance and taking the late train on a Thursday evening just to catch a break would be distant memories.

Someday, Nick promised himself, holding Charlie that bit tighter and finally letting his eyes slip shut once he was sure Charlie was here, and he wouldn’t disappear. Everyday, soon.

hug prompts

#heartstopper #heartstopper fic #nick x charlie #narlie #nick nelson #charlie spring #think a lot about how much they’d both miss each other when nick goes to uni and why #also about charlie doing his a levels *while* missing nick #but finally another fic of them!#this was the last hs request i had :(#prompts #my fics

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eunoiaflow3r · 3 years

Text

i hate u, i love u // spencer reid x fem!reader

spencer reid x reader

aaron hotchner x reader

part one - part two

a/n: did i damn near put this entire song in this fic? yes, yes i did i’m so sorry....highly unedited.

how was your guys’ holiday?

warning(s): language. angst. fluff....

word count: 2.6k

request(ed): yes.

summary: old things try to get fixed, while new feelings and places...arise and get mixed.

(wtf am i dr. seuss now??)

——————————————&———————————

feeling used, but i’m still missing you. and i can’t see the end of this, just wanna feel your kiss, against my lips

and now all this time, is passing by.... but i can’t seem to tell you why. it hurts me every time i see you realize how much i need you...

Seeing Spencer and actually letting all of that out did a number on you. You apologized to Aaron countless times and he said it was okay countless times but you still felt so bad. He didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve your drama, and not to mention how embarrassing it’s been. You felt like you ruined his whole night. It was supposed to be fun and yet you didn’t have any. He said he did but you know Hotch didn’t.

You’d have to make it up to him somehow soon but you didn’t know how. How are you supposed to fix this? Any of this??

It feels like you’re being sucked into the eye of a tornado little by little and you just can’t get out. It feels like everyone else is safe on the ground feet planted and they’re all just staring at you and laughing. Staring and not helping.

Your chest hurt. You hated feeling like this. So helpless...and stuck. You were stuck and not ready to fix it...well...part of it. You could still fix one thing. You didn’t have to be stuck here. Here in this small apartment with no room for anything let alone breathe. You needed space. You needed change. You needed control. Everything is spinning in circles and there’s nothing you can do about it. You can’t stop it.

So why not do something that could help you? That you’ve been meaning to do but never had the time for?

Apartment searching. Well...bigger apartment searching.

Where you were staying now was a studio apartment. You loved the open concept except for how small it was. You just need room.

Before...

“I like it here. It’s so small and cute.”

You could tell cute was a foreign word to Spencer when it came to describing a building. But he was trying. You thought he was cute.

“Thanks Spencer but I’m thinking something different. Maybe another bedroom for a roommate...or just a bigger one for y’know...another person.”

You never really brought up the idea of moving in together before. Sure, it’d be easier...his job was nearby, and there was a bus stop at the end of the street, and there was you....so his reaction kind of put you...off.

“Roommate sounds good. One of your friends maybe? Although I wouldn’t want her to y’know...interrupt us.” He had that cute seductive tone to his voice but he wasn’t sounding very cute and seductive.

You weren’t going to argue. “Yeah...a roommate. Who do you think I should ask?” you paused. “Sara or Malia?”

Spencer was quiet for a moment, like he was thinking. “Malia maybe?”

You didn’t have a friend named Malia.

And that’s what hurt the most you think. The fact that you still thought about him 24/7 even though what you had with him wasn’t perfect. You thought it was before..you thought he was before..but now you’re realizing nothing about it was perfect but at least it was something. Now you have nothing.

It was only the afternoon so you decided to look for some places. You found 3 places suitable for what you were looking for. All 3 were good sizes, good prices, and a good amount away from your job and college. You felt almost lucky. This felt almost too easy.

Until you saw the first two places in person. They were okay, but not really what you were looking for.

The last place though...the place was great, the location was great, the neighborhood was great, hell even the yard. Hell, you’d have no use for it, you didn’t have a kid but it was still a nice looking yard. You could tell that someone in the apartment, hopefully your new neighbor, took great care of the gardens.

You looked around at the surrounding mix of apartments and houses (mostly houses) and saw 2 little kids playing in the house 2 houses over. One of them looked like Jack. It couldn’t be, right? Hotch’s house wasn’t over here.

Nevertheless you watched for a few seconds and it was Jack. You decided to go over and say hi.

Jack stopped playing and immediately ran towards you.

“Y/N!!” He grinned. You got down to his level and hugged him back just as enthusiastically.

“Hey Jackie! Whatcha doin?” He only let you call him that. Only you.

“Sleepover. This is Sam. It’s almost time for Ana to drop me off at home though.”

You said hi to Sam and asked if Ana was his mom. She was and as soon as you told Sam your name, Ana came out of the house and waved you over.

“Hey, I’m Y/N. Friend of Jack’s and Hotch.”

She smiled. And shook your hand.

“I’m Ana. I’ve heard about you! Jack talks about you quite a lot.”

You and Ana talked for a while. She seemed like a really amazing person. If you end up getting the place you could see you and her becoming great friends, and since she seemed really busy you offered to take Jack home. She protested but you insisted. It wasn’t like you were doing much anyway. The landlord had already left and you were just going to go home anyway.

On the way to Hotch’s you bought Jack his favorite ice cream. You couldn’t help it.

The whole car ride Jack’s conversation thankfully distracted you but when you got to his house you couldn’t help but remember that night and how embarrassed you felt.

Seeing Hotch only made it worse. Especially since he wasn’t wearing his work clothes- just a shirt and sweatpants, and you couldn’t help but look because he looked incredibly.....good. He looked so great and you were so mad at yourself for how that night ended with him. You were supposed to be having fun and neither of you did.

He hugged you when you got to the door anyway. You explained to him what happened- even the apartment searching while he invited you in for coffee.

A whole year with Spence and he never invited you in. Ever.

Do you miss me like I miss you? Fucked around and got attached to you Friends can break your heart too And I’m always tired but never of you

If I pulled a you on you, you wouldn’t like that shit I put this reel out, but you wouldn’t bite that shit I type a text but then I never mind that shit I got these feelings but you never mind that shit

“Mom, please, I’m fine. Nothing’s wrong.”

Your mom gave you a look over her mug that said, ‘Do I look like I’m dumb?’ And she wasn’t. Perhaps you weren’t any good at hiding your feelings. Could everyone tell?

You were doing better now.

It’s been a month? Maybe two.

Either way it’s been a while and you weren’t as hurt as you were before. Some nights you woke up heart aching, tears falling, but you aren’t as bad as you were those first few weeks.

Truth is, you missed Spencer. You spent those weeks blaming yourself and wondering why you why you?

But you accepted that you weren’t ready for that answer. A part of you had forgiven Spencer. A part.

You were still heartbroken. You were still angry and hurt. But you’ve been trying to move on. In fact, you’d be moving entirely. Yesterday you finished all the paperwork with your new landlord. You were going to finish packing after visiting your mom.

“Momma I’m fine there’s just a lot going on right now.”

She wouldn’t accept that answer. She persisted you told her what was wrong. So you did. You told her about Spencer...and about Hotch...

Aaron.

You had been spending some weekends with him. Some were alone, just the two of you, and other times it was the three of you. Him, Jack, and you. Whenever you thought about Hotch you had the feeling in your stomach you got whenever you heard from Spencer.

But you still have that feeling for Spencer.

Things were so confusing right now - you weren’t sure if you wanted to move on from Spencer. You didn’t want to rush in with Aaron either though. That’d hurt the both of you.

Last weekend...

“Y/N you cannot tell me you think New Girl is better than Friends.”

Aaron was in a gray shirt and sweatpants while you were in relatively the same. You both sat together on his couch each a cup of coffee in your hands. You had promised you’d help him shop with Jack for new clothes and you had just agreed to stay the night since it had gotten so late.

“Oh a hundred percent. New Girl is way better.”

Hotch laughed.

“Friends is a classic. There wouldn’t be a New Girl without Friends.”

“There wouldn’t be a Friends without Living Single Aaron.”

He rolled his eyes but conceded. “True but still. Friends is better.”

You hadn’t been that happy in a while. You were breathing...you were living. Out in the open. Unbidden.

You ever wonder what we could have been? You said you wouldn’t and you fucking did Lie to me, lie with me, get your fucking fix Now all my drinks and all my feelings are fucking mixed

Always missing people that I shouldn’t be missing Sometimes you gotta burn some bridges just to create some distance I know that I control my thoughts and I should stop reminiscing But I learned from my dad that it’s good to have feelings

There was a bottle of liquor in your hand

You would have gone to the bar but you were too sad for it. You didn’t have the will.

Earlier today you decided that you should get a muffin from the coffee shop and see how Em was doing. Right when you got to the door, who was in the window caught your eye.

Spencer.

Spencer and JJ.

Laughing, and eating, and kissing...

In the open. Out in public.

Were you just not good enough? Was that it? Could you not understand him because you didn’t work in the BAU? Was what you had all one sided?

Unanswered questions and half a bottle later you were passed out on your couch crying.

You thought you were over it for sure this time. But it still fucking hurts. Is keeping your heart open waiting for him even worth it?

The next morning you took a hot shower. The hottest shower you could handle. You were hungover, and you felt like shit but you still had to pack the rest of your things to move. You still had to move.

Your speakers were on the highest level and your music was so loud you didn’t hear the door knock. You only screamed when you felt someone behind you.

It was Aaron.

“Jesus christ!!” You went to turn down the music.

“You could have killed me!”

“Yes I very well could have!” His arms were crossed. He was upset but still in a playful mood. You could tell. “I could have been a serial killer, you have to lock your doors!”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, okay, I’ll lock my doors next time.”

He nodded approval as you went to the refrigerator to get him a bottle of water.

“What’s going on?”

“Oh I didn’t tell you?” How had that slipped your mind?

He shook his head.

“I’m moving.”

“You’re moving?” He looked disappointed.

“Yeah not far. A few houses down from Ana actually.”

“Oh good.” He said relieved.”

After that, he decided he wanted to help you. It was nice not being alone even though you told him he didn’t have to stay. He wanted to.

He even helped you transfer the boxes to your new apartment. You didn’t know Aaron had a voice on him...but he did.

“We built this city!” he sang/shouted.

“We built this city on rock and -“

“We built this city!” he answered.

“We built this city on rock and -“

“Rollllllllll” you sang together.

You giggled when the song was over and he grabbed your hand for the rest of the drive. You didn’t pull away. It felt too nice. It felt too right.

After helping you put your boxes into your next place it was time for him to head home. He told you that he could stay and help some more if you wanted but you could tell he was tired. You were tired. You told him you’d call if you needed any more help.

He made you promise you would because he knows you won’t if you feel like you absolutely can do it yourself even when you shouldn’t.

You promised.

On his way out there was a moment where you could have kissed him. Where you were saying goodbye and you were in the doorway and you were close enough to...but you didn’t. You weren’t ready. He knew you weren’t ready. He knew.

The feelings you have for Hotch keep growing but the feelings you have for Spencer stay the same. Spencer used to be your everything. But you weren’t his. You needed someone who would put you first. Well...close to first. Jack should always come first. Always.

You need to come first when it comes to women. Spencer didn’t put you first. Would he ever?

All alone I watch you watch her Like she’s the only girl you’ve ever seen You don’t care you never did You don’t give a damn about me

Yeah, all alone I watch you watch her She is the only thing you ever see How is it you never notice That you are slowly killing me?

Your phones ringtone was blaring and when you opened your tired eyes to read the time on your bedside table it read ‘3 AM.’ Who would call this late? Or...early? Either way you didn’t check the screen and just decided to click green and put the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” Your voice was groggy and you were a little annoyed to be woken up so early. It’s rude to do that to someone. Especially someone who only went to bed three hours ago.

“Y/N.” It wasn’t a question and it wasn’t in command. It was a sigh of relief followed by sniffles and a hiccup. It was Spencer.

“I didn’t think you’d pick up.” he said.

“You’re lucky I didn’t check my screen I should just -“

The only form of communication you’ve had with him since the incident was a few texts. Dry texts. On both ends.

“No!” he panicked. “Please don’t hang up please, please, I - I couldn’t sleep.”

You shut your eyes in frustration. “You called me at three in the morning because you couldn’t sleep?”

“No, I - I’m apologizing because I couldn’t sleep, no I - I’m apologizing because I was - I don’t know -“

“Spencer I really don’t have time for this. I have things to do tomorrow. What’s today Tuesday? We’ll have coffee or something Friday, okay?”

There was silence on the other end for a few seconds. “I have a date, no I mean plans Friday..uhm, Sunday?”

“Sunday.”

And you hung up the phone. You didn’t mean to sound bitter, you didn’t but seriously? You were actually willing to see him for once - maybe a decision your unconscious, pining, mind made - but still, and he can’t because of a date? A date?

With JJ no doubt. Of course it was JJ. It’s always been JJ. Every single time. “I can’t today Y/N JJ needs,” or “JJ called I gotta go,” or “Shoot I’m sorry I know we had plans but JJ -“

Will it always be JJ? Will she always be number one? Has she always been number one and you just never realized it? Have you been the girl he just hung out with because he couldn’t with her?

A few months ago...

“I bought chinese.” You grinned.

“Smells so good.” Spencer took the bags from your hands and kissed you on the cheek.

Spencer picked the movie this time since you picked it last time. He was sitting in the middle of the couch while you had your legs draped across his. Occasionally he’d bring his hand down to rub your legs.

Things were fine. Things were content. Until his phone rang.

“Y/N, It’s JJ I have to go.”

“What does she need?” you ask genuinely worried.

“Nothing I don’t think. I just gotta go.”

I hate you, I love you I hate that I love you You want her, you need her And I’ll never be her

———————————-—&—————————————-

i literally have no idea what this is i -

team hotch or spence?

if you have any ideas or scene ideas PLEASE tell me

i’m really trying on this happy ending thing

a spencer apology/talk scene is cominggg

i’m liking the idea of two endings? maybe?

spencer tag list: @hotchsbabygirl @pinkdiamond1016 @thefemalestorywriter @sizzlingclamturtlesludge @samyilf123 @mathchampagne @studywithrosie01 @reniescarlett @drreidsconverse @eveliiinnn27 @bweakmybonez

comments tag list: @yeah-just-ignore-me-thanks @geekgirleve @jhiddles03 @carlgrxmes @dreatine @meowiemari @thedaughterofhotchniss @we-are-dreamers42 @unabashedlyswimmingtimemachine @silverchains9182 @realalpacorn @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat @matthew-gray-g @minami97 @mgg-th1996 @peculiarinsomniac @secondratecomplaint @fallinallinmendes @fantastic-fans @eldahae @psych0crybaby @tclaerh @ashwarren32 @spenciegoob @mustbeaweasleyginger @abschaffer2

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tatooedlaura-blog · 4 years

Text

Narrow Beds

Oh, it’s been awhile ... fingers creaked as I began to type ... brain hurt trying to remember words ... I have forgotten how much I love to write over the last few months but I think I will begin again ...

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&

He really should have obeyed more traffic laws getting to the house but he didn’t: thought he saw a cop, began immediately planning alternate route hairpin turns and concocted stories of plunder and raze but in the end, it was just a car with two old ladies and a penchant for drinking their coffee in a parked vehicle as opposed to speeding precariously on the highway.

Regardless, he arrived without incident and knocking on Maggie Scully’s door, fiddled with the keys in his hand until the front door opened up, “Fox. That was quick.”

Desperate to grab her by the arms and ask, in that panicked tone he tried not to let anyone know he had, where Scully was, he instead held himself in check, jamming hands in pockets and rocking on his feet no more than two inches back and forth, “I didn’t catch any red lights.”

Mama Scully half-wondered if he’d driven on the sidewalks part of the way but keeping the traffic lecture to herself, she stepped aside, gesturing towards the steps, “she came in, said ‘I’m fine’ and disappeared upstairs.” Reaching for his elbow, she touched it lightly, “what happened?”

Normally she didn’t ask, knowing their history of diluting the horrors of their day for her benefit, but the look on her daughter’s face when she’d brushed past had her calling Mulder before she heard the bedroom door shut.

He’d been in the car on his way to Scully’s so a detour hadn’t been difficult: two lefts, one right at ‘Oops, I cut it again’ salon and minutes later, he was here.

Fourteen to be exact.

But who was really keeping track.

“We had a bad case. I asked about dinner but she said she just needed a bath and a nap.” Pointing up the stairs to move things along, “she in her old room?”

“Yeah. Thank you, Fox.” Watching his already retreating form, “let me know if you need anything.”

All she got was a wave over his shoulder.

It was enough.

&&&&&&&&&

Having been to her childhood room several times, he knew which door would lead him there instead of the bathroom and knocking lightly, he waited, listening for acceptance or denial of his request.

Instead he got, “I’m fine.”

Opening the door slowly, “you are a big, fat liar.”

She didn’t even flinch at the intrusion that wasn’t her mom, instead simply half-rolling towards him, hands crossed on her stomach, “mom wouldn’t have known that.”

“Your mom is the least dumb person we have ever met. It was your first, ‘I’m fine’ that made her call me and ask what the hell was wrong.”

Instead of denial and irritation at his implication that her world was not all peachy-keen, she stared at him for a long moment, looking from his rumpled t-shirt to his tired eyes, biting her bottom lip in debate and then in resignation at asking for the only thing in the world she wanted at the moment , “are you wearing your shoes?”

Taking the question in stride, “no. I left them downstairs by the door. Why?”

“Because mom doesn’t like shoes on the bed.” Scooting as close to the wall as she could, given she was an adult in a single bed, “would you mind shutting the door and laying down with me, please?”

Shutting as ordered, he maneuvered, with maximum confusion and minimal jostling, to lay behind her on the narrow mattress, “I have forgotten, in my adult years, how much I have grown in relation to my childhood.”

Practically smushed against the wall, she felt an almost-need to try to smile but the mood passed instantly, morose overtaking with lightning speed, “you know, the last person in this bed with me was Melissa; a few weeks before she left for college.”

Not sure where to put his arm, he held it awkwardly against his side, wondering with every passing moment if taking a deep breath would send himself crashing to the floor, “she was decidedly less …” wiggling slightly, his jeans twisted around his knees, “hulking than me.”

The only thing keeping her nose from pressing against the wall was her hand, “she was definitely smaller than you, I won’t argue.”

He’d shared a bed with her before, well, not so much a bed as a quiet corner in some snowed-in airport outside Fargo but whatever.

At least this time, he had the option of covers if necessary.

If only half his body wasn’t hanging off the side of the mattress.

He gave up.

“I’m coming closer.”

For one bless-ed moment, she forgot her churning black cloud in favor of wonderment, “Is that even possible?”

“Hopefully.” Sliding eight millimeters at best, he was now pressed solidly against her from upper chest to ankle, “much better.”

And for some reason, it was the extra warmth, the simultaneous heartbeats, the overwhelming air of another’s existence so close to hers, that made her crumble.

He heard the walls fall, crashing in voided silence and arm be damned, he moved it from himself to her, hand slipping beneath her elbow to rest on her belly, mouth moving as close to her neck as his nose would allow, “it wasn’t our fault.”

“It’s always our fault, Mulder. Every time we go out the door, it’s our fault.”

Moving enough so it was his forehead resting against the back of her head and not his nose, he found himself staring down at the minor flaw in her otherwise perfect neck, “we didn’t know. I didn’t know and you sure as hell didn’t know.”

“Nobody knows anything ahead of time, Mulder but if I had just waited a quarter of a second, a blink of a fucking eye, I would have noticed him. At the academy, the first thing they tell you about handling a gun is always know what’s behind your target. You look behind the damned target before you shoot.”

“No one, not even … shit, not even Superman and his super peepers … would have noticed Jamison under that table. It was pitch black down there. We were doing our job. We did our job and now it’s done and we’re home and jammed into this bed and it wasn’t your fault.” Emphasizing his point, he, for a brief moment, tightened his arm, sinking into cotton-covered stomach, “it wasn’t your fault.” He felt her muscles tighten, knowing full well she was trying to sit up, turn to him, argue his reasoning and he stopped her, quietly, his words drifting over her shoulder, “if you make me fall off this bed with all your arm flailing and point making, I am taking you with me which will just bring your mom up here and then you’ll get in trouble for having a boy in your bed.”

Tensed but debating, she settled back down, logic winning for the shortest possible moment, movement stilled but voice quavering, “I shot and killed a man. Somebody’s husband, Mulder, somebody’s son, somebody’s father. How do I justify that with a simply phrase of ‘it wasn’t my fault’?” Cracking words, her breath hitched violently, chest jumping, abdomen contracting with the effort of not wailing at the top of her lungs, “it was my fault, Mulder. He was hiding under a table. He’d managed to free himself and in trying to escape, heard the raid, crawled under a table and for all his efforts, he died anyway.”

Her last words trailed in a sob and Mulder, ignoring wedged-in bed etiquette, sat up as best he could, wiggled his arm under her neck and finally holding her from both sides, hugged her, kissing each bump of her spine from hairline to neckline, knowing it was time for him to be quiet, to listen, to ache for her.

And when it was time to hold the edge of the mattress as she tried to move closer. Needing any and all leverage he could get to stay on the bed, he simultaneously vee’d his knees, pushing hers forward as well, accidentally-on-purpose spooning to the best of his ability.

She didn’t argue, burrowing into her cocoon of Mulder-heat, vaguely wondering, as the tears flowed out of her and consequently onto him, if it would be, while not scientifically likely, metaphorically possible to crawl inside him, live there protected from the world, for the next few seconds to several hundred years of their combined life.

Choosing to focus on that rather than the harsh reality of now, it still took quite a while for her tears to taper off. Feeling her heart slow its rat-a-tat pace, she whispered into the crook of his elbow, “how do I get through this?”

“Just like we are now. You hold me, I hold you; tomorrow, we do it again.”

It was only now that she began to register how cramped they were, how un-professional they were, how perfect they were, at this very moment and doing a most un-Scully like thing, she let herself sink into the moment, “We should probably find a bigger bed then.”

Hearing just a little of the humor he loved, he chuckled once against her, repositioning his head, deciding both would benefit from a little nap, “I’m not worried about it right now.”

Finding his hand, she ran fingers over crooked knuckles, as close to a handhold as she could manage at the moment, “I wonder if I’ll get grounded if mom finds you here in the morning?”

Already headed to dreamland and taking her with him, “I think we should find out.”

&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Myth: falling asleep.

Fact: waking up.

Confusion: setting in quickly.

Resolution: someone was mumbling beside him.

Follow-through: Once he’d realized he was indeed awake and for some reason in a bed that was seven to eight times too small for two people, he carefully rolled to his side, creating a precious hands-width of space between him and the mumbler.

About to ask if she was alright, he instead, being the terrible person that he was, eavesdropped.

Because … just … because.

And all he heard was a shopping list.

Sleeping next to him and she dreams of chocolate chips and bacon.

He couldn’t help his smile.

Then she hit ‘lube’ and ‘batteries’ and his interest sky-rocketed.

His smile widened.

Oil change and toilet paper should have bought him back to Earth but it didn’t and he listened to her talk another few moments before silence settled again in the time-locked room.

Continuing to stare at her and the dark grey wall behind her instead of going back to sleep, he began thinking in Mulder-type fits and spurts about time and space and awareness and his infinitesimally small space in the universe.

Did the universe still exist outside the room?

Had he been granted his desire to wake beside her only to have the rest of existence forget about them and consequently, forget about existence in the process?

What if Scully’s God had raptured the world and left them behind, alone but together?

Outside the door could be nothing, a vast void of blackness stretching out beyond infinity?

He wasn’t supposed to be here. This was just a rest stop between today and tomorrow. He ought to have been at home on his couch, comfortably hugged by warm leather and soft cotton.

Instead, he was in some weirdly light, hollow, empty, anticipating place.

He could feel the room around him. Everything in it, except him, resting their weary constructs: dust motes, drafts, deliciously warm partners. It unsettled him. This was the snowed in airport at 3am when he had to get up to go to the bathroom and fought it because the empty, dim hallways made his heart beat faster and put him on an edge he didn’t enjoy.

“Scully?”

Another mumble and what he would describe as a weirdly purring throat noise, later, she opened one eye in his direction, “trash bags.”

Another soul awake. Aware. He took a deep breath but continued his whispering, “I’ll add it to the list.”

Finally grasping some sort of faculties, she opened the other eye, brought him into focus as best she could, “why are you in bed with me?”

“You invited me here, remember?”

It took a second to recall but she got there and the smile desperate to cross her lips showed itself at the corners of her mouth but she didn’t let it win, “oh yeah.” Pausing for deep breath, she shut her eyes again, stretching as best she could and very narrowly using him as a full-body pillow in her quest for more sleep, “why did you wake me up?”

“Because I’m an adult freaking out about the dark and infinity and weird spaces where time doesn’t seem to exist and frankly, I’m worried that we are the only two people left in the universe and that we are floating in an utter blackness void even of stars and …”

He stopped because her hand was now covering his mouth, “Mulder … I swear to you. Outside is still outside.”

Talking through her hand, “Then why do I feel so strange? This never happens when I wake up at my own place in the middle of the night.”

Knowing sleep was now officially at least a few minutes away, she removed her hand but kept her eyes shut, thinking that if sleep accidently floated by, she could catch it, “you, my friend, are caught in a ‘liminal space’”

Liminal space. He felt he should remember that from somewhere but his 2am still spiralling mind couldn’t organize, “what?”

“I will be writing this down as the day I knew something you didn’t. Remind me to play the lottery later.”

Smart-ass-ness was starkly evident this later/early in the day but he liked her so he didn’t tell her about the ‘lube’ comment, “this isn’t helpful.”

“Sorry.” Finally looking at him, eyes dilating wide in the dark, “liminal spaces are kind of like waiting areas between one thing and the next. After one point in time and space and before the other.”

He was remembering now, “where magic happens and anything is possible.”

“Or where you begin to doubt universal existence and are afraid of the dark.”

“I am not afraid of the dark.”

She really hadn’t meant it to sound like it did and in apology, she rested a finger in the dimple on his chin, “I know. I just meant … when I was a kid, I’d wake up just like you and wonder if mom and dad were still in their beds. If Missy and Bill and Charlie were going to be at breakfast the next morning or had the darkness snatched them away?”

“But I’m an adult and I know better.”

“No one knows better at 3am or whatever the hell time it is.” Figuring the best way to fix this was to show him and she struggled to sit up, she accepted an assistance shove from her Mulder, “come on. We’re going downstairs.”

Now he was just starting to feel silly and for Mulder to feel silly required quite a bit of silliness, “it’s okay. We should probably just go back to sleep.”

“No.” Taking his hand and tugging until he was standing beside her, thankful for socks against the chilly floor, “I want to show you something.”

Giving in because she was her, he followed, inaudible sigh of relief he would never admit to once the bedroom door was open and he saw that, indeed, the rest of the house still stood. Shuffling across wood floor and creeping down the stairs, avoiding, under Scully’s direction, the creaky seventh step, she took him to the couch, pushing on his chest lightly to get him to sit. Once settled, several afghans piled over their legs, he waited as long as he could before asking, “what are we doing?”

“We are learning to love liminal spaces.”

“We are?”

“Yeah.” Quiet for another moment to gather her explanation, “we are witnessing timelessness. Enjoy it.”

So he sat, hand in hers, until he mused, half to himself, “liminal spaces should be an X-File.”

“No. I’m not letting you file these away. I have fallen in love with them and don’t want them categorized and easily referenced. They are meant to be discovered by accident and left alone when done.”

Sliding somewhat down the cushions to rest his head against the back of the couch, “do these spaces make you feel better?”

Knowing the question behind the question, “this space is making me feel better right now. It was still my fault but I think I’ll have to accept it and move on.” Matching his slide, she went one better and shifted her head to lean on his shoulder, “how are you feeling?”

“Better about the universe and about liminal magic.”

“Liminal magic?”

Turning his head, he first kissed her forehead, then shifted enough to brush his lips against hers, impulsive and unassuming, “that right there was liminal magic.”

With a smile, she let her hand drift to his knee, then his thigh, squeezing before coming to a rest slightly higher than strictly friends defined, “shush.”

“Shushing now.”

&&&&&&&&&

Maggie found them prone on the couch the next morning, smushed together on something even more narrow than the bed they’d occupied earlier. Scully, true to form, using him as a pillow while he held onto her dear life, fearful even in sleep of falling to the ground and leaving her behind.

It was then that she knew her daughter’s answer of ‘I’m fine’ later on would be a genuine one and moving to the kitchen, she decided chocolate chip waffles and bacon would be the order of the day.

#narrow beds #liminal spaces #msr #midnight grocery lists #Maggie Scully #not one drop of alcohol in this one #just couldn't work it in #My writing #xfiles #x-files

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emmy-writes-sometimes · 4 years

Text

Roomies

You and Tom accidentally get paired as roommates, but it quickly becomes something more.

You didn’t know what you expected when you signed up to have a random roommate because you didn’t know anyone else at the school. You were hoping you’d be friends, but you’d also heard stories of people having to change halfway through the semester because they hated each other. You hoped that wouldn’t be the case, but you were getting a bit worried when you were starting your drive up and still didn’t know who your roommate was.

You were essentially on your own – your parents were helping your other sibling move into another college a few hours away and you weren’t all that attached to things you had at home, so you packed your clothes and toiletries and saved up money to buy everything the day you got there. Was it kind of ridiculous? Yeah. But would it save you a ton of time and pain moving in? Definitely.

You noticed you were in one of the co-ed dorms when they gave you the key and the packet that had codes and information in it, but you didn’t know who your roommate was. You knew the last name was Holland, and that they were an international student, but other than that your packet didn’t help you. You got into the room and picked a side without much thought into it. You moved your furniture around a little, moving the bed up so that your dresser could fit underneath it and you had a little more space for your clothes that you’d brought.

You were almost done unpacking when you heard the lock open and a guy carrying two bags walked in. You were confused for a second, and so was he.

“Hi, I’m Tom, your last name’s Y/L/N, right?” He asked. He had a British accent, you noticed, so he was an international student after all. “I didn’t realize the rooms were co-ed.”

“Yeah,” you responded. You shook his hand, giving him a smile. “I didn’t either. I can go to housing if…”

“It’s fine with me if it’s fine with you. I have three brothers, so living with a girl would be different.” You smiled at him.

“I have two sisters, so living with a guy might be nice.”

“Is that all of your stuff?” He asked as he put his things on the bed.

“Yeah, I tried to come with as little as possible. I figured I’d run to the Target up the street later if you want to join. I hope that’s not all of yours.” He laughed.

“Actually, it is. I didn’t want to pay a fortune for airfare, so…”

“If that’s everything, we could just go now. Unless you want to go to those orientation things.” He shook his head and the two of you headed down to your car. He explained that he’d just wanted to come here for college so he could move to California after, which made sense because he was going to be an acting major. Your major was similar, so you were kind of glad for the pairing. Neither of you had expected to get a roommate of the opposite sex, but you seemed like similar people so maybe it could work.

“Okay, so if you get the fridge,” you started as you looked at the list the two of you had made in the car. “If you get the fridge, I’ll get the A/C unit. I smuggled in a TV and an Xbox, so we have those, and then we can just split the snacks if you want?”

“Sounds good to me,” he replied. You both grabbed carts and got to work, buying everything you needed, and struggled to get it all up to your room later. By that night you were both unpacked, had set up everything, and you were putting the comforter you’d bought on your bed. It was your favorite color, and it was his, too, so he got a similar one. At least your room somewhat coordinated. You were getting pictures developed to put up on the wall, which he said he didn’t mind, and that was that. You were excited that Tom was so chill. The only inconvenience was having to change in the shower stall, but it didn’t matter that much.

Every time you made friends, it turned out the both of you were involved, so you considered yourself lucky that Tom quickly became your best friend. You would go pretty much everywhere together, and since you had many of the same intro classes, you had a lot of classes together, too. You’d be lying if the thought of dating him hadn’t crossed your mind, but he was your roommate. He probably didn’t want to date you, and what would happen if you broke up? Nothing good, probably, so you let it go. You holed up during fall break and snacked on junk food and played games most of the time, you studied together, and whenever you went somewhere at night he would walk you there and back so nobody would mess with you.

You were studying in the library a couple of months later when he did the first weird-ish thing. You were absolutely freezing, but it was still hot outside, so you were wearing shorts and a t-shirt. Your leg was shaking up and down and you debated walking all the way across campus for some hot chocolate. Tom looked up from his textbook and saw you were shivering.

“I have a sweatshirt,” he said with a smile on his face. “You didn’t have to suffer.”

“I wasn’t going to ask just in case you were cold!” You said. He handed it to you anyway and you put it on over your t-shirt. It was warm and it smelled like him, which was incredibly comforting considering you were worried you would fail the exam on the material in front of you. You muttered a thank you and he just gave you a smile, starting to type on his computer again.

You decided to retire first and of course he walked you back, exchanged textbooks, and went down to the dorm’s common area to finish doing his homework. You were almost asleep by the time he came in and muttered a good night, earning a small laugh as he told you to go to sleep. It was little things like the sweater that started to add up. If you fell asleep he’d put a blanket on you. If he knew you were walking back to your car when it was dark he’d make you call him, or he’d volunteer to go get gas for you so you wouldn’t be out there alone. He would often bring you back food or drinks without you even asking, just because he’d gotten to know you so well that he knew you would never pass up an opportunity for a chicken sandwich and waffle fries.

The next time things got weird was October. It was the week before Halloween and there was a party at one of the houses off campus. Tom didn’t feel like going, so he didn’t, but he told you to keep him on standby in case you needed him. You dressed up in your slutty outfit and tried to pretend you didn’t see him checking you out, and then you left. You met up with your friends, but they soon ditched you for boys they were both seeing, so you were alone.

You started talking to this one guy, whose name you had no idea of, when Tom texted you to check in for the first time. You looked down at your phone just long enough to text him back and then grabbed your PBR, chugging the rest of it in hopes that someone had gone on another run and was back with some beer that wasn’t essentially water. It tasted weird, but you didn’t pay attention. You just kept talking to the guy.

Your vision started going slightly blurry and you tried to walk straight on the back lawn, but you couldn’t. You noticed the guy was watching you and was never too far away, and you realized when your stomach started hurting. He’d roofied you. Shit, you thought. You took out your phone, crossing your arms against your chest to hide some cleavage, and called your trusty roommate.

“Hey, how’s it going?” He asked, putting his phone on one ear while he continued playing with the Xbox.

“I think some guy just roofied me,” you said, “when you texted me I looked away and he must’ve put something in it.”

“Shit. Where are you? I’ll come get you.”

“Take my car, it’s out in the parking lot,” you said as you started getting dizzy.

“Don’t hang up on me, Y/N. Talk to me.” You did – he asked you about how your night had been other than that and before you knew it he was pulling up to the front of the party house. You got in and immediately reached across the console to hug him. He concluded that you’d definitely been roofied because you were drooling by the time he walked you back to the room. He herded you into the shower and then into bed after you were dressed. You woke up the next morning and he had gotten Starbucks for you, probably having borrowed your car again (and filled it back up, because that was who he was).

“Oh, you’re a lifesaver. Literally,” you said as he presented you with the venti cold brew with sweet cream. You sat up and reached toward it and he handed it to you. You drank it like a baby drank a bottle, which just made him laugh.

“No problem. You mind if I play Xbox?”

“Only if I can too.” He handed you one of the controllers and sat down at his desk chair that was pointed toward the TV in between your two beds. “Come sit up here, you don’t have to sit there,” you said, referring to the wooden chair that was obviously uncomfortable. Tom always almost fell out of it, too, every time he used it.

“Fine,” he sighed. He walked over and climbed on your bed with you, sitting down beside you, and you wasted most of the morning playing games. You both had class in the afternoon, so you bucked up the courage to go. You sat down and lo and behold, there was the guy that had roofied you. You elbowed Tom.

“Tom, that’s the guy,” you muttered through gritted teeth, trying not to draw attention to yourself. Tom turned his head toward the guy, who looked straight at you. Tom’s arm flew around your back, pulling you to him uncomfortably.

“Anyway,” Tom cleared his throat so the guy would look away. You elbowed him again.

“What was that?” You asked.

“He was looking straight at you. If he thinks the guy who picked you up was your boyfriend, maybe he’ll let you go.” You knew he was right. You tried not to let the guy get to you and eventually class let out. You were one of the last out of the hundreds of people in the gigantic lecture hall, waiting for Tom to ask the professor about an extension on a paper. You finally went back to the room and sighed.

“There’s no need to panic, darling, you have one class with him!” Tom said as he typed away at his paper. You were pacing back and forth, shivering because the A/C unit was on full blast and you just didn’t want to walk over there to turn it off.

“Yeah, but he definitely knew you were just pretending! What if he tries to, like, stalk me or something?” Tom scoffed.

“Anyone that tries to stalk you will have to stalk me too because I live here. You’ll be fine. One of us’ll be with you all the time in classes and on campus. You really don’t have to worry. I promise.” You sat down in your bungee cord chair, pulling up the hood to the sweatshirt you were wearing. It was Tom’s, actually, you noticed. You didn’t notice when you’d pulled it out of your clean laundry, but you’d done some of his the night before since he didn’t have a full load, so it was definitely his.

“I guess.”

“Come on. Let’s go get some dinner,” he insisted, “and then we’ll go camp out in the library.” You got up and let him drag you halfway across campus to the only dining hall that was open.

You ended up going to the semi-formal with him, because neither of you had another date, and the way he treated you was strange. He opened your door for you, he paid for the dinner beforehand, and he took about a million pictures of you for your Instagram without complaining one bit. He took care of drunk you and held back your hair, got you Gatorade, and took you to get a milkshake at 2 AM because you wanted one so badly that you were crying. You drunkenly told him you loved him and he laughed, just saying he loved you too.

That phrase became familiar, too. I love you. You told him that when you were leaving him, when you were drunk, when he got you food without asking. He smiled every single time, responding that he loved you too. You always told your friends that, though, it was just who you were. It didn’t mean anything other than you valued the friendship you had together. He came with you for Thanksgiving, since he’d never been to one before, and your parents even made him sleep on the couch because they were convinced you two were together. And then there was the night of your friend’s birthday party, and all hell broke loose.

You were sitting in a circle in your friend Sadie’s room, playing spin the bottle with a bottle of Malibu that you’d all emptied together not long ago. You still had a cup of half Malibu and half sprite in front of you. Sadie had to kiss her roommate, Allie, and a couple other roommates had done the same thing. It was just a peck, so it was whatever. You’d spun it, though, and of course it landed on Tom. His face got red, immediately, but he playfully patted his lap and you giggled, walking over to him, and his legs were crossed as you got on your knees to match his level. You cringed a little as he reached out for you and finally kissed you. It was just a peck, like most of them were, but you could tell that he didn’t want to pull away. He didn’t want to pull away.

You lasted through most of the party and decided to leave once you were sobering up. Of course he came with you, and when he put his hand on your back to lead you out of the dorm you couldn’t help but look back at him.

“Sorry the bottle landed on you,” you apologized. “We’re the only co-ed roommates on our hall and of course it ended up on us.” He shrugged.

“It’s spin the bottle. Doesn’t mean anything unless you want it to.”

“Unless I want it to?” You stopped on an empty sidewalk underneath a lamp-post, turning around to look at him. In the low, yellowed light you could see that his face was changing colors, and suddenly the heat rose to your cheeks and you were burning up in the sweatshirt you were swearing. Tom’s sweatshirt. Again.

“I mean…”

“Be honest with me for just five fucking seconds,” you said. “Would you have done that if we were both sober?”

“I am sober, Y/N,” he insisted. “I am. And if you won’t lie to me I won’t lie to you, alright? Have you noticed how I always say I love you too? Or I bring you coffee and I know your order, have you ever considered why? Or did you consider at all why I came and got you at two in the morning at that party?” He walked a few feet in front of you when there was another set of people walking down the sidewalk. He paused to let them through and then looked over at you again. You were freezing in the sweatshirt. It was December, what were you thinking?

“I thought…” You took a deep breath. “I thought. But I wasn’t sure, so I didn’t say anything. And now you’re telling me you’re doing all of this for a reason and I want to believe that you like me, but it’s so complicated, and…” Before you knew what was happening, he was closing the gap between you. His hand went behind your head and his other one splayed across your stomach, pressing you up against the lamp-post in front of you, and he kissed you. This time, it wasn’t a peck. This time, he didn’t pull away. He kissed you for a few minutes and you kissed back, and you only parted when you heard another set of people about to walk by.

“Are you sure now?” You nodded, panting a little. He’d left you out of breath and the air outside was so cold that you could see it.

“Yeah,” you said quietly, reaching out to take one of his hands.

“I like you, Y/N. Roommate or not, I do, and I can guarantee I still would even if I didn’t live with you.” You smiled at him a little.

“What is this, The Prince & Me?” You asked out loud. He looked slightly confused. “It’s a movie, where this guy comes to college in America and…”

“I know the movie.” You felt heat rise to your cheeks again. “So…” You started walking again and so did he.

“So?” You looked at him. “Tom, are you sure? Are you sure you want this? And it isn’t too complicated? Because we live together, what if we fight?”

“Then we talk it out. Come on, Y/N. We can make a King sized bed with our beds put together.” You laughed.

“Is that the only reason why?” He grabbed your waist and squeezed it, making you laugh a little.

“No. I love hearing you laugh, is one of them.” You reached the dorm, finally, and rode the elevator up to your room.

You went back to the room and immediately started moving your furniture together. You talked about going into the city to get brunch as your first official date as you tucked in a set of sheets. This time when he went to change his shirt you didn’t turn away, and he didn’t get mad when you reached for one of his shirts to sleep in. You smiled to yourself as you settled in beside him, assuming the position of the little spoon, as he picked a movie to pretend to watch.

“Good night, girlfriend,” he said in your ear.

“Good night boyfriend,” you replied with a smile on your face. He squeezed your waist again and you smiled, thanking your lucky stars that you’d gotten the co-ed dorm that year.

A/N: I loved this request so much! Thank you for sending it in!

Taglist (if you’d like to be added, let me know!): @an-adventureland, @firstangeldragonranch, @ssebstann, @winterreader-nowwriter

#tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland imagine #tom holland

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mikewheelerr · 5 years

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So here's a prompt: Richie nervously trying to bring up the fact that he got accepted to some college to Eddie, a much better but different one then they were thinking of going to together, and ask him what to do, only to find out Eddie ALSO got in and didn't know how to bring it up.

Richie is shuffling through the bag of candy he brought over to Eddie’s bedroom, maneuvering as many brightly colored packets through his fingers as he can, while Eddie - combing his fingers through Richie’s hair - watches intently.

The wall Eddie is leaning into is cold and he shudders a little as the warm summer air slips in through his open window. It was a little past 10pm, time wherein Richie would sneak into Eddie’s room every single night, without fail.

Sonia would probably kill both of them if she saw the amount of candy Richie religiously supplied her son with, the small plastic rectangles sprawled out on Richie’s stomach now, his curls tickling Eddie’s thigh as he moved his head incessantly.

“Why does everything have to be raspberry flavored these days? No one likes raspberry! Oh here’s a new one: Wild Berry.” Richie gestures, voice going up a little higher than usual. “Can you imagine someone asking for a fuckin’ wild berry flavored candy? Instead of cherry? Of I don’t know, boring grape or what have ya? Anything? No one likes this wild berry shit. I don’t get why they keep making it!”

“Shh! My mom will hear you!” Eddie nervously looks at the door, even though he knows full well it’s safely locked and right now his mom is definitely fast asleep, her sleeping pills seeing her off to a full and long, dreamless night. “I like the wild berry flavor. Everyone likes wild berry.” He says, looking down into Richie’s magnified eyes. “If no one liked it, they wouldn’t make it, dumbass. It’s capitalism, also why are you so surprised? Didn’t you buy your own candy?”

Richie chuckles as he sets the bag aside on the bed, letting the candy packets fall onto the mattress as he sat up, leaning into Eddie’s space. “I love when you educate me.” He whispers, suddenly getting even closer to Eddie. “And babe… you know your mom is not gonna wake up,” He looks down at Eddie’s lips, licking at his own. “Meanwhile, we can kiss… we can live… we can…”

Richie touches Eddie’s knee, getting even closer to him. Eddie shamefully already has his lips fully parted now, his half lidded eyes watching Richie’s cherry red lips move. “We…”

“I actually have no idea what you’re trying to say…” Eddie whispers, leaning in. It’s ridiculous.

Since before they were dating, it only look a little proximity to get Eddie like this. Putty under Richie’s gaze. Luckily for him, Richie seems to be in the same state, magnified eyes looking at Eddie’s lips so intensely it feels like they’ll melt. Until Richie snaps and spits the words out on a whim:

“We cannot have wild berry fuckin’ candy, seriously, Eds, that shit is gross.” He backs away from Eddie with a comical frown on his face, successfully breaking Eddie out of his trance. Eddie sighs as Richie goes on, gesturing at him. “Do you even like wild berries in real life? If you don’t like it in real life it’s not possible to like it artificial, Eds, it’s the rule. I got this candy from Mags, she said you’d like it, by the way. I’d never get this willingly. Ew. Gross.”

“You’re gross.” Eddie snaps back. He frowns as Richie sloppily kisses his cheek before stumbling to get up and stand by the window. “You’re full of shit too, you never even eat any fruit in real life.” Eddie blurts, looking at Richie’s jean covered back. “What’s gotten into you? You’re… extra… hyper. Did you have some candy before coming over tonight?”

Richie grimaces at that. “I’m not, I’m cool. Eat the candy then, babe, since you like it.” Richie puts both of his hands on the windowsill, chewing at his bottom lip before turning back to Eddie. “Hey, can I smoke? Before you say no, I’ll stay close to the window, put my head out?”

“Why do you need to smoke?” Eddie looks at him in a weird way, now. Richie raises his eyebrows, looking down at the floor before looking back at him.

“I just want to.” He shrugs.

“Bullshit. What the fuck is going on?”

Richie’s head snaps towards the door. “Chill, Eds.” He mutters.

Eddie sighs. So Richie wasn’t a hundred percent sure his mom wouldn’t come in. Or, like Eddie himself, he still couldn’t let go of the feeling, the small part of his brain reminding him constantly that if something happened, if she randomly woke up and tried to get in… they’d be done for.

Eddie feels Richie’s eyes on him and he just nods, avoiding Richie’s eye as he opens a purple packet of skittles.

“Hey…” Richie calls.

“Mhm?” Eddie leans back on the wall, successfully throwing some skittles into his own mouth, one after the other. However, his gaze is glued to the carpet, avoiding Richie’s eyes.

“Look up at me?” Richie sounds gentle, giving Eddie a sad smile when he complies. He puts the unscathed pack of cigarettes back into his pocket, apparently giving up on smoking. “I’m sorry.” Richie begins, walking towards him.

Eddie hugs his knees, giving Richie enough space to climb into his bed and sit in front of him. “You can smoke, Rich.”

Richie raises his brows at his boyfriend. Eddie raises his in return. “What? You can… I mean… You know how I feel about it… but if you only smoke when you really need to…”

Richie shakes his head, nonchalantly spreading Eddie’s knees apart, crawling closer to him until he’s lying on Eddie’s chest, face buried into his neck. “Dummy. You know nothing about addiction.”

“Fuck you.” Eddie whispers, hand instantly petting at Richie’s hair again. He adjusts his shoulder, Richie’s glasses uncomfortably poking at him. “Love you.” He whispers again, more gently this time, leaning his head closer to Richie’s.

“Love you too.” Richie breathes in deeply, and then out. Eddie’s hand, still holding the skittles packet, goes up and down on Richie’s back with the motion.

They stay like that for a while, until Eddie breaks the silence: “I’m proud of you… You’re right, I have no idea how it is for you. But I’m so proud, Rich.”

He feels Richie smile. “Thank you.”

“Maybe it’ll help if you don’t carry it in your pocket… Is it what tonight is about? It’s too hard?”

Richie shakes his head.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

He shakes his head again.

“Okay… how about we just lie down and get some sleep? We can cuddle and set an alarm a little early? I bet Mags won’t mind…” Eddie bites at his lip, staring at the open window. “Only if you want.” He adds.

“I do. But…” Richie exhales, pulling back. Eddie watches intently as Richie adjusts himself until he’s sitting comfortably between Eddie’s thighs. “I… wanna talk- yeah. I need to. There’s something I need to tell you.”

Eddie gulps, nodding at him. He’s trying to seem receptive, but the stiffness in Richie is setting him on edge. He couldn’t imagine what he’d do if… “Hey,” Richie calls him back into the moment. Eddie looks into his eyes. “I’m here, don’t drift. I love you. I just need…” Richie looks down, at a loss of what to say, and Eddie feels like he’s about to break down.

He’s gonna break up with me.

“Spit it out, Richie.” Eddie mutters, trying to seem braver than he feels right now.

Richie looks back at him, taking a deep breath. “So I… got into NYU.”

Eddie widens his eyes in complete, utter shock. Then he frowns, deeply. “Oh?”

Richie’s eyes are ricocheting between Eddie’s own. “Biology?”

“Uh.” Eddie gulps. “Yeah, that’s your major.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I applied to that one… It was just a shot in the dark. I thought you’d…”

“What?” Eddie urges.

Richie looks at him, swallowing, before looking back down with a low chuckle. “I thought you’d think I’m crazy. Or stupid. Or both.”

“If you didn’t get in?”

“No,” Richie looks at him. “No… It’s just too far. Far from you. From Berkeley.”

“So you’re going to NYU?” Eddie asks.

“No!” Richie shakes his head.

“Then why…?”

“I’m not leaving you.” Richie shuts his eyes closed. “I’m not. I want to move in together and everything. Stick to our plans!”

“Richie.” Eddie takes his hand in his. “Richie,” He calls again, and Richie opens his eyes to look at him. “Babe… that’s amazing news.” He smiles, holding his hand tightly. “I’m so proud of you.”

Richie chuckles. “Thanks. I was so nervous to tell you.”

“Wait…” Eddie blinks. “That’s what you were going to tell me?”

Richie’s smile falls off his face. “Yeah?”

“Uhm.” Eddie pulls his hand off Richie’s.

“Eds-”

“I thought you were breaking up with me, asshole?”

“WHAT? Why?” Richie wails. “I’d never-” Richie widens his eyes at what he was about to say, then he says it anyway: “I’d never break up with you. I won’t go to NYU if it means we won’t be together. I kinda wanna go there, yeah, but…” Richie exhales. “I didn’t know how to suggest changing our plans. Since we already settled on everything. I mean, if you want. I didn’t know if you’d want to. I still don’t. Also Berkeley’s fine. Berkeley is great. We’re both in. I’m sorry I never told you this, but it’s my dream to go to New York.”

“You did tell me this.” Eddie interrupts.

“Yeah, but I have many dreams. None of them are without you.” Richie makes a face at himself. Eddie mimicks the exact same face. “I know. I’m in love.”

Eddie chuckles. “I’m in love too. You almost gave me a fucking heart attack! Next time… just. Just don’t Richie, okay?”

Richie laughs and leans into him, kissing Eddie’s lips briefly. “I’m sorry… I got so dumbstruck I didn’t leave my room until it was too late, so I ended up going to Mags and just getting all the candy I could find from the fridge. Then I came here.”

“Oh… Am I the first to know?” Eddie asks.

“Duh, yeah!” Richie says. “Of course you’re the first to know, babe.” He frowns and kisses Eddie’s cheek, looking at him before kissing at his cheek again, watching Eddie with a certain emotion on his face. Neither of them could name it well, but they were both getting used to seeing it on each other, that look.

“Where’s the letter?” Eddie smiles. Richie smiles back, pulling it out from his pocket. Eddie shakes his head as Richie unfolds the wrinkled paper. “You got it today and it looks a hundred years old.”

“Piss off, Eds.” Richie mutters fondly, crawling until he’s sitting beside Eddie, leaning against his shoulder. “I couldn’t stop reading it.”

Eddie smiles fondly. “Wow. Can we even afford that? New York is so expensive.” Eddie frowns.

“Oh!” Richie gasps. “You wanna go?”

Eddie grins before swiftly getting up.

He walks to his drawer, pulling a perfectly well preserved letter into Richie’s view. “I got mine yesterday.” Eddie smiles.

Richie blankly stares at him.

“I applied before we agreed on living together, for the record. I didn’t know how to bring it up. Didn’t know if I even would, cause it didn’t matter after we settled on Berkeley.”

“Getting into NYU didn’t matter?” Richie asks, deadpan.

“Nope.” Eddie throws the letter at him and Richie opens it unceremoniously. “Berkeley has better beaches. Had you.”

“Holy fuck, Eddie.” Richie whines. “Fuck!”

“So…” Eddie laughs at Richie’s tone. “That’s the plan now? New York?” Eddie watches him.

Richie looks up in shock. His eyes are bright, and Eddie gasps when Richie’s bottom lip starts to quiver. “Oh my god, Rich, are you gonna cry?”

“Fuck off!” Richie wails before he tacklehugs Eddie down into the mattress. Eddie giggles, holding Richie tight. “Oh my god!”

“I love you.” Eddie closes his eyes, smiling wide. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything, Rich. It would have saved us some time, right?” He laughs. “You’re the first one to know about it too.”

“Holy fuck, Spaguetti. Wow, I’m sorry, too.” Richie pulls back, resting his chin on his hand, elbow holding his arm up beside Eddie’s head. He grins, leaning down and softly kissing Eddie’s lips. He breaks the kiss, but Eddie’s hand brings him back down - deepening it, warm tongue caressing Richie’s bottom lip. Richie’s hand suddenly touches Eddie’s forehead, dragging him back and breaking the kiss again, successfully this time. Eddie huffs.

“Calm down, Eduardo. I’ll take care of you in a jiffy. Now Eddie, what the fuck? Wow. N-Y-U!” Richie chants.

“I know,” Eddie rolls his eyes fondly, still playing with the hairs on Richie’s nape. “I didn’t think I’d get in.”

“What do you mean you didn’t think you’d get in? Of course you got in. I didn’t think I would.”

“You’re the best in our class, Richie, of course you got in.”

Richie’s free hand goes up to Eddie’s face, caressing his cheek. “We’ll be together. You and I.” He smiles wide. “You and I, Eds!” He widens his eyes, smiling so brightly down at him Eddie feels his own eyes water. He truly did love Richie. Luckily enough, Richie vowed to love him just as much.

“Yeah.” Eddie whispers, unsuccessfully holding back a few small tears. He’ll finally be free.

He’ll be free. No Sonia, no pills, no curfew. He’ll be with Richie, the boy he loves and makes everything in his life fall into place. Eddie couldn’t believe his luck. He pulls Richie closer, smiling at him, whispering against his lips. “You and I.”

#writing

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randomoranges · 4 years

Text

i’ve had this idea in mind since summer. it’s a combination of things. it continues the narrative of étienne visits ed and cal over spring 2020, it’s also a prize fic for @allbeendonebefore who is the only one in the friend circle to have completed the dictation challenge and wanted something with succulents and it’s also a reflection on long distance whatevers and how when they’re away it all feels fine bcs you get used to it, but when they’re back errthing feels so much bigger and when they leave again you’re crushed it’s over.

anyways.

Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow

Early June 2020

Edward makes himself comfortable and swings an arm around Étienne’s shoulders. He likes the way Étienne curls up around him and furrows his face in his chest and lets out a content sigh. He likes how Étienne comes to him for these things – how he doesn’t hold back as much – how he’ll seek him out for hugs and cuddles when he wants them. He likes that they’ve grown closer around each other over the past few weeks and that some of their stilted attempts at normalcy have gained fluency.

Shame it ends in the morning, really.

But, Edward tries not to think about that.

Instead, he focuses on the now – on the last few moments before it all ends.

To be honest, Edward thought for sure that Étienne would stay a little longer, but he’s also not surprised that his boyfriend has decided to head back home. It’s summer, after all, and despite everything, Étienne still feels the pull and call to go back – to soak up the rays and recharge as much as he can before winter strolls in again with its harsh winds and long and dreary nights. He knows the good summer does to Étienne and knows how important it is for him to reconnect with his land.

Still, it stings a little.

It’s strange, he thinks, but after a few weeks of Étienne being back home, he gets used to it again. He falls into his own routine, picks up a new one with his boyfriend where they text and video chat every so often, but every time they see each other, Edward realises how much he misses him and how great it is to have him around. It’s as if his feelings and emotions are cranked to the max and time seems to slip through his fingers. And then, just as he’s getting used to having Étienne around, just as they start making plans and start developing a different type of routine, the trip is over and Étienne is yanked out of his reach.

It’s the same thing tonight.

He sees it with Étienne’s half-full suitcase.

At least, this time, he’s had more than a few days hastily thrown together. It’s more than he can say about the state of the suitcase. Maybe, if he hides a few of Étienne’s possessions, Étienne will stay a little longer. It’s wishful thinking and it can’t hurt.

“Hey, I can hear you thinking, what’s up?”

Edward blinks and looks back down to gorgeous green eyes he’s already missing. He offers Étienne a small smile and bends his head to peck his lips. It’s a welcomed distraction and he goes willingly when Étienne pulls him down for something with a little more feeling and a little more heat. He wonders if he’s not the only one ruminating this departure that feels both sudden and planned and tries not to think too much about it even if it’s hard.

“Thinking of nefarious ways I can keep you back here,” He admits with a chuckle. Étienne rolls his eyes at him, but it’s soft and so very fond. His boyfriend levels with him and rests his forehead against his own.

“I’ll miss you too, Eddy,” Étienne says and Edward holds him a little closer than necessary and a little tighter than needed for more than a few seconds.

He remembers how it started, a few days after Étienne’s birthday. He remembers sitting out on the back porch with Étienne, quietly staring at the chickens and the dog. It had been another quiet day; another quiet morning and it looked as though it would be nice and sunny. They hadn’t been saying much, enjoying each other’s company and the pleasant weather, when Étienne had spoken, nearly startling him.

It had been a quiet sentence spoken to no one in particular, but there to be heard if anyone cared to. It seemed to be the other man’s new way of doing things – stating things softly as if addressing the blades of grass that grew in the gentle breeze of the wind and the caress of the sun. Étienne’s vigor and energy were still a thing of the past and Edward not only feared, but also wondered if he’d imagined them all along.

Yet, Étienne had simply said that he thought it was time to go home and he was thinking of leaving by the end of the week.

Edward had been – shocked.

Edward is still shocked.

They’d talked about it. Étienne had explained that for as much as he still didn’t feel one hundred percent and even though he was eternally grateful for Edward’s (and even Calvin’s) hospitality, he needed to be back home. He needed to be there for his people, for his sister – and for himself. He wished things could have been different, but at least, they had gotten this time out of it.

So, Étienne had purchased his ticket and had quietly and slowly started packing.

And now it’s their last night together.

Edward feels like there’s so much he still wants to do and say to Étienne. He feels like he’s run out of time and the fact of the matter is that they both don’t know when’s the next time they’re going to see each other. He supposes that’s the real kicker – that there’s no real planned next visit – that they don’t know if they’ll be able to. They got this, but will they get more? He knows Étienne’s been thinking about it – about whether or not it’s wise to go home, not because of the caseload back home, but of potentially not being able to come back. But – there used to be a time when the only thing they had was letters. At least now, there’s technology to make the cold, lonely nights a little friendlier.

It’s something.

They’ll manage.

They always do.

They’ll find a way.

“I have something for you,” Edward blurts as he disentangles himself from the cocoon of warmth. Étienne gives him a puzzled look and even Mercury raises her head to see what the commotion is all about. Edward excuses himself and leaves the room to retrieve the three items. He’d thought of the best time to give them, had figured they could do as birthday gifts, had decided against the idea and had gone back on it ever since, but – now seems like the best of times.

He returns to the guestroom and lets himself get pulled back under the covers, wrapped around Étienne’s legs and arms, trapped in the best of ways. This time, Étienne sits up, curious as to what this is all about and Edward grows a little shy and quiet. These presents feel a little lame, now that he’s holding on to them and he hopes he hasn’t built up any hype that will be met with disappointment.

Étienne brushes Edward’s worries away as he grabs the small bag out of his hands and eagerly opens it up. He pulls out a first box and sets the bag aside to open it up. The curious expression and smile on Étienne’s face vanish and Edward thinks he may have gone overboard with the gift, considering his boyfriend has grown silent.

Étienne looks up at him, clutching the key and the key ring tightly in his hands and a myriad of different emotions play in Étienne’s eyes that Edward briefly reads.

“I thought – you gave me yours back in February, I figured it would only be fair if – you could have your own – for real, this time – I want you to have your own key to my place – for you to use whenever you visit.” Edward remembers a time, what feels like ages ago, when he’d made a key for Étienne. When he’d purposely made one for him, even though at the time he – hadn’t been comfortable with the idea of others seeing him with Étienne – with his friend visiting – and he’d never told Étienne he could keep the key. Étienne had obviously only used it during his few and far between stays, but – it had hurt Edward when Étienne hadn’t kept the key or absconded with it, as though Étienne was pushing him away or shunning him, even though Edward had never specified. Now, however, he is being clear with his intentions. He wants Étienne to have a key. To feel that he could come here whenever. That he is welcomed. That this is a safe place for him. A port in a storm and such.

He wonders if Étienne is aware of all of its significance, and he must, for Étienne’s eyes mist over for a moment and he grows serious as he brushes a finger over the grooves and ridges of the key.

“It’s yours,” He reiterates. “I want you to have it and use it. You come here anytime you want – you’re welcome here. I want you here, okay? And you can come back whenever – I don’t care if you make it home, wake up the next day and realise you want to return. You do that. I don’t want you to second guess yourself and wonder if you need to check first. You can stay here even if I’m not here. This place – my home – it’s – I want you here. You’re part of it. I –” He tries not to get choked up on his words, but he stumbles halfway through and gets thrown off balance when Étienne near topples them both off the bed when he semi-launches himself at him and hugs him tightly and closely. Only Mercury seems disgruntled by the sudden shift, but she settles back down.

“Thank you,” Étienne says with all the sincerity of the world and Edward watches as he clutches the key tightly in his hand. He then puts it back in the box and moves on to the next present.

This one is wrapped in tissue paper and doesn’t weigh much, but – Edward has spent ages on it. Months, really, and has made his best to finish it in time.

It’s a mask, Étienne finds out, black fabric with intricate needle and beadwork motifs on the front.

“I know you’ve been making your own and have quite a few,” Edward starts, as if he wants to defend his going away presents, “But, I liked the idea behind this one...”

“Did you make this?” Étienne asks to be sure as his fingers dance over the carefully placed stitches and beads that form the motifs of his flag – the thistle, the shamrock, the lily, the rose, and the yellow pine. It’s an ode to him – to some of his roots and either Edward spent time making this for him, or he commissioned someone for it.

“I – yeah, I did,” He admits.

Étienne is quiet as he looks at the intricate details, still carefully feeling the beads and the stitches under his gentle caress as though worshiping the artisanship that went into it. Edward had been inspired by a local native company that had launched its own sets of masks and figured he could give it a go. It had been tedious work, but he enjoyed it. At first, his intention had been to mail it to Étienne, but once Étienne had shown up on his doorstep, he figured he could gift it to him at some point. Working on it while Étienne wasn’t around had proven a little difficult, since he wanted to keep it a surprise, but he’d managed.

“It’s beautiful,” He says, voice filled with awe. Edward’s cheeks pink at the comment, but he’s pleased. He worked really hard on the design and the mask and he’s proud of the result. Now, he’s glad Étienne likes it. “I’ll wear it tomorrow,” He ads and Edward’s insides do a funny loop at that. There’s something alluring about the thought that Étienne wants to wear the mask he made and will actually wear it.

“You didn’t have to go through all the trouble, though,” He says as he puts the mask carefully back in the bag.

Edward sighs. He’s heard Étienne tell him he didn’t have to go through all the trouble for many things over the past few weeks and he’s quite frankly tired of it. “It was no trouble. None of this was any trouble. Having you over was not a trouble. I did everything – I keep doing everything I do – because I enjoy it. Because I like doing things for you and because you’re worth my time, okay? Now please get it through that thick mass of curls of yours or so help me.”

Étienne offers him a quiet smile in return and Edward thinks it’s all worth it just for those little quiet smiles.

“What’re you gonna do if it doesn’t get through then?”

Edward recognises the teasing edge hidden behind Étienne’s words and he rolls his eyes fondly. At least Étienne teases back now. At least he’s on the road back to his regular self. At least, Étienne feels safe being himself around him again. Less and less of that guarded glass personality. No more polite smiles and empty conversations. They’re back to something similar to what they’d had before, friendship wise anyways. They’re working on the rest, but Edward feels confident about this. If anything, this month and a half or so has sped up the process. Helped mend a few bridges along the way and such. He’s thankful for that, if nothing else.

“I don’t know, I might just have to force it down, for starters.” He offers back.

There’s a spark in those pretty green-brown eyes he loves so much and it’s lit up with with mischief. He likes this version of Étienne – likes the playful edge he has.

“Yeah? How so?”

Edward scoffs and leans over so that he can claim Étienne’s lips with his own. He thinks he’s going for a surprise attack, but Étienne had seen it coming and wraps his arms around him and pulls him in for something much deeper. Edward sighs against his boyfriend’s lips and changes the pace for something much softer but lingering.

This, by far, has been the best thing about Étienne’s prolonged stay with him; the exchange of plush kisses that never seem to end or quench his burning desire for more. There are still decades worth of catching up to do, but now they have time to make up for all those lost opportunities.

The gifts are momentarily forgotten and Edward silently thrills as Étienne wraps his legs around his body and manages to dip his hand underneath his shirt to caress warm skin he’s ever so fond of. They don’t do more than heavy kissing, at least, not now, but it doesn’t matter; Edward feels more connected with Étienne than he ever did before and he’s content to stay here with him, even if all they do is talk and curl-up tight around each other.

“Did that help a bit?” Edward asks when they pull away, later, faces flushed and lips kiss-swollen. He thinks Étienne looks beautiful this way and should always look like this with his tousled curly hair and pretty pink lips.

“A bit. Might need a few more lessons before I leave, though. It would be such a shame if I went back home and forgot all about it.”

Edward pecks the corner of his lips as a response, “Of course; it would be a pleasure.” He ads for good measure.

Étienne takes the bag again and pulls out the last of the presents. It’s heavier than the other two and a little bulkier. Edward warns him to be careful with it and Étienne wonders what could possibly be in the box. He opens it with gentle, careful hands and moves the tissue paper around, until he finds the smallest of clay pots holding what seems like the tiniest of little plants.

The plant looks both foreign and similar and Edward remains silent to see if Étienne will come to some conclusion. He touches the delicate leaves, deep in thought and Edward rubs his shoulder.

“I can hear you thinking,” He parrots back to Étienne. His boyfriend looks away from the plant and up to him and Edward sees the questions running in his eyes.

“It’s a plant. I’m trying to figure out why and I’m also – it looks familiar. But – I know it can’t and I’m probably misremembering something.”

Edward beams and is relieved that Étienne more or less figured it out.

“Indulge me, why does it look familiar?” He presses on and Étienne goes quiet again, looks at Mercury who is back to snoozing at the foot of the bed for now and then back up at Edward. His cheeks are a little pink and he looks a little uncertain.

“I’m probably wrong. And – it’s fine if it’s not that. But – my sister gave me a succulent, ages ago. You came over once and a leaf snapped off. I was going to throw it out, but you wanted to keep it. Said you’d read something about how you can start a new plant with the leaf. Asked if you could keep it to try it out. I said to knock yourself out. I – we – shortly after that we – didn’t see each other much and neither of us brought up the leaf or the plant. Mine died, eventually. Either gave it too much water or forgot to water it once too many times. It – looks like that plant. Sort of. But – it can’t be.” He pauses, “Right?”

Edward grins and presses a kiss to the top of his head. God, but he loves this man a stupid amount. “What if I told you that I got that leaf to develop into a plant and that I still have it?”

Étienne blinks, “Impossible.”

“It’s in the living room. You’ve seen it. Many times.”

Étienne looks completely baffled and Edward can’t help but laugh. He has indeed seen the plant. Knows exactly which one Edward is referring to, but Étienne had never thought it was the same. Hadn’t even given it much thought. “This just goes to show you that there’s always hope – somehow. Even if you think something is over – that it’s gone for good – sometimes, things have a way of coming back – stronger than before.”

“Who the hell gave you this much insight and what have you done with Edward Murphy?” Étienne says as a deflection from his thoughts that keep crashing in his mind, as he tries to make sense of all of this.

Edward laughs, deep and rich and Étienne cracks a smile at that, “I’m just saying, it’s a good perspective to keep in mind.”

Étienne nods and settles back against him, cradling the plant in his hands, “So, this is a cutting of it?”

“An offset of it, yeah. I cut off a few of them in early April and then with you coming over and everything else, I thought it would be a nice gift.”

Étienne examines the plant for a moment longer, before he carefully puts it back in the box and then the bag. “It is – thank you; I promise I’ll try my best to look after it.”

“That’s all anyone ever asks – to do their best.”

When Edward wakes up the following morning, there’s already pleasant sunshine streaming through the curtains and he feels as though the weather is mocking him. He obviously knows that Étienne wouldn’t spend the rest of his life here in Edmonton with him, but – it would have been nice to have more time. He tells himself to be grateful for what he got and that’s how he starts the day.

Breakfast is a quiet affair even if Calvin tries to liven it with his usual jokes and trivial talk. Normally, he welcomes the distraction, but this morning it feels out of place and Calvin must get it, for he stops as well and keeps to himself.

Étienne excuses himself after he clears his dish and returns to the guestroom to finish packing before the drive to the airport. Calvin volunteers to take Mercury for a quick walk and Edward secretly wonders if Calvin isn’t giving him some space with Étienne before it’s time for him to go. Regardless, he’s happy for the diversion and thus finds himself sitting on the edge of the bed as Étienne throws in the last of his things, while making sure he isn’t leaving anything behind.

“You’ll just have to come back and get them,” Edward says and he wants it to sound light and funny, but it comes out a little heavy instead. He’ll miss the bugger. Miss having him around and stealing hugs and kisses from him. Miss the late night talks and just being able to share the same space without rush.

“Or, I can just drop by unannounced and crash. I have a key now, Murphy and I intent to use it.” To prove it, Étienne fishes out his own set of keys from the front pocket of his backpack and there, with Étienne’s set of house keys, Edward spots the keychain and key he had given Étienne the night before. The idea that the keys will be together – that the key to his place will be so readily accessible makes his heart flip this way and that.

“You better; I would be extremely disappointed if you didn’t.”

Étienne puts the keys back in the bag and then moves across the room to tackle Edward into a tight hug. Edward is only a little surprised and holds him close for a good long while.

“Thank you, for absolutely everything,” Étienne tells him with all the sincerity of the world when they pull away slightly. “I promise I will call and do my best not to fall off the face of the earth.”

“If you don’t, I swear I’ll find a way to track you down.” It might be a joke, but there is also truth behind the words. Edward will worry. It’s in his nature and he also genuinely wants his boyfriend to be all right. Not to spiral out of control and such. He hopes he won’t. He fears he will. Not because he doesn’t believe in Étienne, but because he knows how Étienne can get, despite his best intentions and the last thing he wants is for Étienne to feel as though he’s stuck in a situation he can’t get out of. Scared he’ll do something rash and irreversible. Scared Étienne won’t reach out to him and that he won’t be able to help.

“Hey,” Étienne says and it brings him out of his own mental nightmare. Étienne reaches out for him and cards his fingers through his hair. Edward leans into the contact and lets out a deep breath. “I was going to take a shower,” He pauses for a moment and then offers him a kind smile, “Wanna join?”

Edward chuckles, but nods and then gets up from the bed and follows Étienne to the washroom.

When they get to the airport and unload the car of Étienne’s luggage, the three of them hover by the truck, not really wanting to make it to the door of the airport, knowing that once they get there, this will truly be the end of this venture. It was agreed upon that Calvin would wait in the car, what with the new restrictions and not really knowing if “such a crowd” would be accepted. This way, at least, they can go through with the proper goodbyes without having to wear their masks or risk getting whisked away.

“Y’know – if things quiet down some and we’re allowed to have fun again, you can come visit me this summer.” It’s a nice thought to have – something to look forward to, maybe and even if it doesn’t happen, it’s nice to know that Étienne wants him over and that he hasn’t grown tired of him after spending over a month and a half in his presence. “And – you’re invited too, Calvin – you’re both welcomed to my place any time, yeah?”

He sounds a little unsure of himself, as if afraid he’s offering too much too soon but wanting to anyways and Edward’s heart swells. He’s ever so thankful that both Calvin and Étienne are trying. That they haven’t asked him to chose between one or the other and that they’re doing their best. He’d honestly feared at some point that it wouldn’t work out – that Calvin wouldn’t get it or that Étienne wouldn’t be able to get along with Calvin, but maybe even this little has helped the other two, in its own way. He can’t say that Calvin and Étienne have reached best friend status, but they’re slowly getting to know one another and it’s already a good enough start. With time, he hopes, they’ll get closer, but for now, he’s glad that the two men he loves most have decided that the best course of action is not to shun him for the way he feels about them both.

“Yeah – I’d like that – it would be great to visit,” Calvin says, a little surprised by the invitation, but Edward can tell that he’s touched by it and would really like to visit as well.

“Guess I’m off now, thanks again for everything,” Étienne reiterates for what feels like the millionth time that day. He steps up to Calvin first and Edward watches as Calvin goes for a handshake, but then Étienne swats his hand away and instead pulls him down for a hug. Calvin’s eyes widen in surprise, but then he quickly recovers and wraps his arms around Étienne’s waist.

“Better take care of him, McCall. I know how to find you.” Étienne whispers to Calvin and Calvin knows that it’s a threat to be taken seriously.

“Promise I will. You look after yourself as well – he needs you in his life too.”

They part after that and after Calvin says goodbye to Mercury, Edward and Étienne, along with Mercury, head off towards the departures entrance. Étienne reaches out for his hand a few steps in and if they hold on to one another’s hands a little tighter than necessary, they don’t comment on it.

“Text me when you get in?” Edward offers as a final platitude, trying to come up with something clever to say.

“Text me whenever you think of me?” Étienne counters and Edward smiles and pulls him in for what might be the last hug for a long while.

“Sure you can handle that many messages from me?”

“From you, always.”

Edward is, once more, taken aback – in all the good ways, by Étienne’s words and their sincerity. He settles instead for a caress to Étienne’s face and before his emotions get the best of him, he kneels in front of Mercury to say goodbye to her as well.

“You take good care of him,” He tells her and whether or not Mercury understands, she acknowledges his recommendation by licking his face.

“Come on, off with you, before you miss your flight.” He warns Étienne once he’s standing again.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t object to that.”

“I wouldn’t, but I know you really want to go home and – maybe the sooner you go, the sooner you’ll come back.”

Étienne gives his hand a tight squeeze and finally, after a last goodbye, he heads towards security check.

Edward watches them both go for a moment longer and waves to Étienne one last time, before he heads back towards the truck. He wonders if his heart will ever not feel this heavy when he’s at an airport with Étienne, but by the time he gets to the truck, he laughs when he finds a message on his phone from Étienne.

“I know I’ve said it a million times, but really, thanks for everything. And not just this time. I’m really lucky to have you in my life. Miss you already and talk soon. I love you <3”

His heart feels ever so full as he reads and re-reads the message and, as he gets into the truck, it gives him hope that really, things will end up working out.

FIN

#pc: montreal #pc: edmonton #pc: calgary #mercury the dog #étienne maisonneuve #Edward Murphy #calvin BRISEBOIS LOL #calvin mccall #projocanondoko #fic

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mitchsmarners · 5 years

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hitched

pairing: eddie kaspbrak/richie tozier [reddie] word count: 3,721 chapter count: 1 of 3 summary: Eddie wrapped his arms around Richie’s middle and buried his face into Richie’s neck. Richie startled for a moment, before wrapping his arms around Eddie and pulling him closer. “Damn, Eds.” Richie said, not understanding why his voice came out so hoarse all of a sudden. “Been a long time since I got a Kaspbrak hug.” warnings: alcohol consumption, airplane anxiety,

read on ao3

Richie pulled the blanket firmer around himself. He tried to sink further into his mattress, hoping it would swallow him whole and drag him right down into the under world. It had been almost three weeks since Sandy had packed up all her belongings, and taken off while Richie had been at work. There had been a letter stuck up to his fridge, a letter that Richie had read over a hundred times, until Stan had stolen it from him and ripped it up in hopes that it would get Richie out of the funk. It had only made it worse. Richie simply went to work, and went home. Curled up in bed. Listened to his sad hours playlist on Spotify on a loop.

Richie’s bedroom door swung open, prompting Richie to tense up under his blankets. If he stayed still enough, maybe whoever had decided to interrupt him would think he wasn’t there. Or that he’d died and deserved to be left in peace.

“Get up you piece of shit.” Eddie Kaspbrak‘s voice rang through the room and Richie knew he was screwed. Eddie was the Losers last line of defense. If Eddie was here, it meant that they’d exhausted all other options to get Richie from this apartment. “You need to stop moping around, get up. You still have to live your life. And it’s the 3rd.”

“Yeah?” Richie mumbled into his pillow, pulling his legs closer to his chest. “What about it?”

Eddie grabbed Richie’s comforter and yanked it off, tossing it aside. “Tozier.” Eddie looked up and down Richie’s body on the bed. Richie knew there was garbage around him from the occasional take out he’d get when he found the urge to eat, and that the sheets were probably dirty. Eddie crinkled his nose up in disgust, before sighing and his face softening. “Rich, you gotta get up. This isn’t healthy.”

“Leave me here to die.” Richie said, flopping away from Eddie. He and Eddie were close, had always been close. They’d maybe grown a bit apart in the last few years, since college had ended and they’d been tossed into their adult lives. Distance, schedules... Richie didn’t seem much of Eddie anymore.

“I’ve been begging the others to let me in here for weeks.” Eddie said, dropping down on the bed by Richie’s curled up form. “I wanted to come but they kept saying you’d snap out of it on your own. But that’s clearly not true, so I’m here to make sure you don’t miss this weekend. Because I know that you’re going to regret it if you don’t go.”

“What’s this weekend?” Richie asked, keeping his eyes closed. He wished Eddie would just let him sleep. Richie liked sleeping.

Eddie groaned. “Richie, are you serious? It’s Stan’s bachelor party this weekend. We’re leaving for our Vegas flight in less than four hours. I am not letting you miss this.”

Richie blinked hard, forcing himself to sit up and rub at his eyes. “Stan’s bachelor party? That isn’t until...” Richie frowned, swaying a little bit than groaning. “It is August, isn’t it? Fuck. Okay. I’m getting up. But you need to help me pack.”

“I think that’s half the reason Beverly made me come instead of going herself.” Eddie laughed, then crinkled his nose at Richie’s bed. “Get up and take a shower for the love of God. I can do the packing. I’ll do it better than you anyway.”

Richie couldn’t argue with that, so he got out of bed and slumped down the hall to his bathroom. He kept his eyes closed and the light off through the whole shower, forcing himself not to think about all the showers he’d shared with Sandy.

Finishing up, maybe taking a longer than usual because once he got in there he realized he really was disgusting, and he was toweling off his hair when he got back into his bedroom. He smiled at Eddie, getting a warm smile back. “Thanks for coming, Eds. I really would’ve hated myself if I missed this.”

“Don’t call me Eds, Richard.” Eddie said, but he was still smiling. “If I ask you how you are, are you going to crawl back into bed?”

Richie laughed, moving towards the comfy looking clothes that Eddie had clearly set out for Richie to wear on the plane. He shook his head. “I probably would, if I didn’t feel clean for the first time in weeks and I know how nasty my bed is right now.”

Eddie glanced at it, giving it a dirty, offended look. “Yeah. It’s gross even for you.” He replied. “So. How are you doing? I mean, not good obviously, that’s stupid but- are you gonna be okay?”

Richie sighed, glancing around his room and at his big Queen sized bed. At all the empty space that had once been Sandy’s stuff. “I think I need to get a new place. Everything here reminds me of her. It’s killing me.”

“I think that’s a great idea!” Eddie said enthusiastically. “You know, you can move in with me, if you wanted. I have the extra bedroom, and it would be nice to split on rent.”

Richie raised his eyebrows, slipping into his sweats and ruffling up his wet hair. “And is Martin going to like that?”

Martin was a guy who Eddie had been seeing for the last few months. He’d seemed pretty stuck up, a little pretentious and he’d been pretty clear (at least as far as Richie could tell), that he didn’t like Richie. Richie wasn’t sure how serious it was between Eddie and Martin, and Richie himself wasn’t a fan the guy, but he was a fan of Eddie Kaspbrak and anything that made Eddie happy.

Eddie rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “I don’t know. I don’t care.” Eddie said firmly. “He isn’t the boss of me. If I want to live with you, I’ll live with you. Especially if it means it’ll help you out of a bad place.”

Richie smiled blandly, nodding his head. “We can talk about it after we get back from the trip, yeah? This weekend is about Stan the Man, not me.”

Eddie laughed and nodded. “Yeah. I’m pretty sure Bill has Stan tried up in his trunk to get him here.”

Richie chuckled, pulling his NYU hoodie over his head. He stepped closer to Eddie and shook out his hair again, making sure to stand close to Eddie and let the ends of his curls get him wet. Eddie gave a shout and shoved Richie away, groaning with a smile. Richie didn’t get a chance to stumble very far, Eddie’s hand catching his wrist and tugging him in.

Eddie wrapped his arms around Richie’s middle and buried his face into Richie’s neck. Richie startled for a moment, before wrapping his arms around Eddie and pulling him closer. “Damn, Eds.” Richie said, not understanding why his voice came out so hoarse all of a sudden. “Been a long time since I got a Kaspbrak hug.”

“I’ve missed you.” Eddie mumbled into Richie’s shoulder, letting out a little sigh. He squeezed Richie’s waist. “And I’m worried about you.”

Eddie says the second part quieter, in a way that Richie probably wouldn’t have heard it if he and Eddie hadn’t been standing right up against him. Richie rubbed Eddie’s back and smiled softly where he couldn’t be seen. “We can talk about it later, okay? We need to get going, right?”

Eddie pulled back and gave Richie a sad smile. He knew they weren’t going to talk about it. Eddie just shrugged and pulled back, wall going up. Richie groaned internally, standing their behind his own walls. That had been the problem with Eddie and Richie in the first place, wasn’t it? The damn walls. As Richie opened his mouth to say anything to Eddie to track them back, Eddie was tossing Richie his suitcase and walking out of Richie’s room.

Richie kicked at his bed, not completely sure why he was feeling so bothered. Well, no, he knew. Lately he’d been so caught up in his post-Sandy misery, he’d forgotten what had been bothering him for so long before. He missed Eddie, missed the easy relationship they’d always had. Sometime in last year or so, the simple ease between them had broken down to grind that left Richie feeling on edge and uneasy. Richie sort of felt like he’d lost an arm, unbalanced and uncomfortable.

When he got out his apartment, any chance of talking to Eddie was dashed when he saw Eddie talking to Ben and Bev. Forcing a smile, Richie let himself get hugged by his friends and dodged questions on whether or not he was okay. Eddie patted Richie on the shoulder, taking Richie’s stuff and tossing it into back seat. “Let Richie alone.” Eddie said without giving Bev or Ben a spare look. “If he wants to talk about it, he will.“

“Well, that’s just a lie.” Beverly said, shooting Ben an amused smirk. Richie smiled at Eddie, the pair of them climbing into the back seat while Ben started up the car. There were nervous lines at the corner of Eddie’s eyes and Richie sighed. Eddie had always been uncomfortable with flying, even though he’d never actually told anybody, and Richie felt a little pang of affection in his chest.

Richie wrapped a hand around Eddie’s wrist and squeezed. Eddie looked at him, frowning. Richie squeezed once again and then gave Eddie half a smile. Eddie’s cheeks turned a lighter shade of pink, and he looked away to stare out the window. His hand came down on top of Richie’s, stopping him when it felt like Richie might pull his away.

They arrived just before their boarding time, something Eddie complained loudly about as they got ushered onto their plane. They barely had time Richie took a look at his ticket and frowned, jumping through the aisle towards Beverly, wrapping his hands around her wrist.

“Switch seats with me.” Richie said quickly, staring Beverly in the eyes. Beverly frowned at him before glancing over her shoulder and seeing Eddie settling into the seat beside her.

Beverly immediately frowned and turned back to him with disappointment and concern written all over her face. Richie was groaning before she even spoke up. “Richie, don’t do this to yourself.” She said. “You’re still healing from Sandy, and reverting backwards isn’t going to-”

Richie held his hands up and started shaking his head. “It’s not that, okay? I’m way way over that. This is.. this is something else, okay? Just... fucking switch me.”

Beverly rolled her eyes, and grabbed her things before shuffling over to take the seat next to Bill. Bill looked over to where Richie was dropping down beside Eddie, and gave him a sad look.

Eddie looked confused as Richie settled in beside him, brow furrowing. “You mean I have to spend the next five hours stuck next to you? This flight is cursed. It’s going down.” Eddie said but Richie watched the panic flash behind Eddie’s eyes.

The pilot came over the speaker and started giving the usual boring explanation of plane ride expectations. The year before when Richie had been living in New York, and Sandy was still back in California, he’d done an inhuman about flying between states. But Eddie’s face paled and his jaw clenched as the plane starting to kick up.

Richie held his hand out, palm up as an offer. He didn’t take it himself, just left it there for Eddie if he wanted it. Eddie didn’t even hesitate before grasping the offered comfort and squeezing so hard it hurt. Richie questioned for a moment that maybe Eddie was going to break his fingers as the plane starting through turbulence, but Eddie’s grip loosened as the plane started to steady out.

“Thanks.” Eddie breathed out, cheeks a little pink. He didn’t let go of Richie’s hand. Richie’s hand was quickly getting too hot but he didn’t want to let go. This was longest he’d stayed in contact with somebody in weeks, and Richie didn’t want to loose it. He knew Beverly would be watching them like crazy right now, but he just couldn’t be bothered to care what she thought. He knew what this was, and he knew why he’d sat down next to Eddie.

Eddie and Richie kept their hands tangled together, while they started a simple conversation. Easy, nothing important. None of the things Richie knew that Eddie wanted to ask him about. Eddie had always been reading when a place wasn’t right for a serious conversation, so long as Eddie isn’t pissed beforehand.

Eventually, Eddie’s head lolls down onto Richie’s shoulder and his eyes flutter shut. “Mmm...” Eddie hummed, nuzzling closer to Richie. “Sleepy. Can I sleep here?”

“Yeah,” Richie grunted, throat feeling a little tight. He told himself that it was just missing the closeness that he’d lost so suddenly. It had been ages since somebody had snuggled up against him. It was nice. “Course, Eds.”

Eddie mumbled something into Richie’s neck that might have- probably had been- don’t call me Eds, but he seemed to zoink out almost immediately. Richie looked down at Eddie, noticing now the dark circles under his eyes and seemingly paler than usual skin and felt a sad pang in his chest. He’d really been neglecting his friendships lately, and that had to change.

Eddie slept straight through the rest of the ride, head on Richie’s shoulder and hand half-limp hand resting in Richie’s, until the plane started to descent and Eddie woke with a start. His hand immediately tightened in Richie’s and he wheezed. Richie rubbed his thumb along Eddie’s palm in an attempt to calm him.

“It’s fine,” Richie whispered to him. “We’re going to be landing soon, is all.”

“God, I don’t know how you did this so much for that bitch.�� Eddie spoke through a clenched jaw and Richie bristled, but decided to let that one slide. It wasn’t the first time that Eddie had let slip some sort of sign that he hadn’t liked Sandy; it had come out more than a few times in their three year relationship. Richie had always tried not to let it bother him, but he knew that it had forced him and Eddie apart.

Eddie had been groggy as they stumbled off the plane and into the airport. The rest of the Losers chatted up a storm, finally having the reunion that they’d been robbed off back at the New York airport. Eddie didn’t say much, leaning up against Richie as they walked through the airport. They weren’t holding hands anymore, but their bodies pressed together where they stood together.

Stan was glaring at him. That usual look of when Stan wants to lecture Richie on being an idiot, but wasn’t going to at the moment. Richie made a mental note to prepare himself for it later, and enjoy being pressed up against a sleepy Eddie now.

The cab ride to their casino hotel was chaotic, everybody speaking over each other and nobody getting any information. Something about Ben getting a promotion, maybe Mike seeing a new girl. Richie wasn’t sure because Eddie was scrolling through his phone, frowning, and Richie was starting to feel worried. As they’d gotten to their casino, Eddie held a finger up and pushed his phone towards his ear. “Sorry, I have a bunch of missed calls and texts from Martin, I need to give him a text and make sure everything is okay.”

Richie hadn’t wanted to eavesdrop, he really hadn’t. Eddie just hadn’t really moved away from him so he could hear everything, if he tuned his ear to Eddie’s voice and ignored everybody else’s chattering.

“Hey, baby! You called?” Eddie’s cheerful tone didn’t match the bored expression on his face. “I was on the plane... No, I didn’t get them, I was on the plane... You can’t have your phone on during the plane! No, you can’t. Martin. Come on, are we going to really fight about this right now?” Eddie pinched the brim of his nose, shaking his head slowly. “We just got to the hotel... yes, he’s here.... baby...”

Eddie eyed Richie awkwardly, then shuffled away so that Richie couldn’t hear the rest of the conversation. Richie’s stomach dropped and wrapped his arms around himself, moving closer to the group of his friends at the front check-in.

Stan immediately zooned in on him, narrowing his eyes. He grabbed keys from the counter and walked over to him. “Do I need to say it?”

Richie let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “No. You don’t need to say anything.”

Stan nodded, dropping a key into Richie’s hand. “Good. Best man gets his own room.”

Richie beamed and smacked a wet kiss to Stan’s cheek. Stan groaned and wiped it away, but he was chuckling. “Now I normally don’t encourage this sort of behaviour, but maybe you should bring somebody back with you. Get yourself.... going?”

Richie laughed, covering his face. “Stanley, shut up man. You have no idea what you’re talking about, do you?”

Stan shook his head. “Absolutely none. But I need you to be okay again and I don’t really know how to do that so-”

“Working on it, Stan.” Richie nodded, clasping Stan on the shoulder. “Promise promise.”

Eddie stumbled up, looking a little red eyed. “Who am I rooming with?” Eddie asked before anybody had the chance to ask him if he was okay. Richie shuffled slightly closer to him, before feeling Stan’s hand grab his arm and tug him back.

“Bill.” Stan said sharply at the same time Bill responded with a “me.”

Eddie groaned loudly, looking slightly moments away from stomping his feet. “No. Come on. You know what Bill is like when he’s drunk!” Eddie turned to Richie, pouting. “Can I stay with you?”

“Sur-” Richie started before Stan stomped down on his foot.

“No.” Beverly broke in. “Sorry, Eddie. Best man gets his own room.”

Eddie frowned, turning away and grabbing the extra key that Bill was holding out to him. Richie glowered at both Stan and Beverly, who were both giving him matching unimpressed looks. Richie shrugged one shoulder and looked towards the casino. “Can we start drinking now? I feel like I need to start drinking.”

“Hell yes!” Bill cheered.

✳✳✳

Richie was a solid five drinks in when Eddie slumped into the seat beside him, swaying. Richie looked at him with wide eyes, world a little blurry even with his glasses on. Eddie’s perfectly styled hair had flattened down over his face and was falling into his eyes, cheeks a dusting pink and way, way past sober. “Martin is an asshole.”

Richie raised his eyebrows at the bartender he’d been chatting with the last hour or so. He knew that Stan had suggested that Richie go out and get himself laid, but Richie really wasn’t feeling up to that just yet. He was barely even feeling up to being at this bachelor party in general, and was just trying to power through until it seemed late enough that he could disappear off to bed.

The bartender, Kay, leaned forward on her elbows and smiled at Eddie. “What’s the matter, sweetie? Boy troubles?”

“My boyfriend sucks!” Eddie cried, voice slurring. “He’s soooo mad that I’m here. He had some stupid dinner party this weekend for his boring job.”

Richie pressed his mouth against his knuckles, trying to hold back his giggles. Ranting drunk Eddie was Richie’s favourite kind of drunk Eddie, and he couldn’t deny getting a sick satisfaction from hearing Eddie talking shit about Martin.

“And he doesn’t want me with my best friend!” Eddie continued as though Richie wasn’t sitting right beside him. “It’s so stupid, he’s always been so jealous of Richie.”

“Oh, lil ol’ me?” Richie sang, knocking back the rest of his drink and swaying into Eddie’s space. “Why’s that, Eds?”

Kay looked between the two men with a smirk on her face. She filled up Richie’s drink, with a duplicate for Eddie, and pushed them towards the both of them. They accepted them without question, Eddie knocking his entire drink back in one go while Richie sipped at his.

“Because you’re better than him, and he knows it?” Eddie laughed, swaying into Richie’s space. “Because he’s a stupid prude-y asshole? I don’t know, man. He just... fuck that. Fuck everybody. You know what?”

Eddie started poking Richie in the chest, a warm heat spreading through Richie from the touch. “What, my love?”

“Let’s go do something fun.” Eddie started nodding as he agreed with himself. Richie smiled all dopey at his drunk best friend. “Cuz Sandy... she was bitch, Richie. And she never deserved you. And Martin sucks, I am so... I am so mad at him. So. les... lets go.Let’s fucking go.“

“Alright, Eds.” Richie finished the last of his drink while Eddie stared at him with wide, excited eyes. “Let’s fucking go.”

✳✳✳

Richie registered that his head was pounding before he even registered that he was awake. He groaned, rolling to sit up and stumble around to find aspirin and water. He didn’t get the chance to get out of the bed before noticing the heavy weight of a person sleeping behind him.

Panic burst out through Richie in every inch of his body, momentarily over taking his exploding brain. He glanced down and sighed out a breath of relief at the sight of the baggy sweat pants that he knew Eddie would’ve packed him to sleep in. He tried to wrack his brain to why their would be somebody in his bed, but he had nothing there. A big, empty, horrible blank. Not just a regular missing memory, but something more. Like Richie knew something important was missing.

Then it caught his eye. A big, ugly, bulky ring on his ring finger. The ring finger of his left hand. Nausea rushed over Richie that had nothing to do with the hangover. He took a big, heave of breath and forced himself to look over his shoulder.

Eddie Kaspbrak was sleeping in the bed beside him, wearing Richie’s T-shirt. Richie looked away quickly, slapping his hands over his face.

“Fuck.”

#reddie #reddie fic #it fanfiction #my writing #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #vegas au #ashley back at it again with dropping fics at 3am #anyway im OBSESSSED with this au :)

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scribblescrabblebabble · 5 years

Text

RoyEd Week 2k19 Day 3

Title: Seven(?) Days

Rating: T+

Relationships: Roy Mustang/ Edward Elric

Chapter: Day 3- (Fantasy AU)

Cross- Posted on AO3 and Fanfic.net links- Fanfic.net AO3

Best quality reading will be through the links, not on Tumblr itself because I’m too lazy to do italics and shit right now. For @royedweek2019 ‘s RoyEd Week!

pasted late bc I have other work to do oops!!

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Roy had never seen the Great Hall so beautifully decorated; it was hard to tell where the school hall ended, and wintry palace began- the decorations were so wonderfully chosen! As he spun around with his dance partner, his long-time best friend Riza, the two other Triwizard Champions and their dates twirling similarly, Roy both admired the wonderful mix of glamour and dance and wished he wasn't dancing at the moment.

At least, he wished he was dancing with a different blonde, although Riza was definitely a close second choice. In fact, if he weren't required to take the first dance as a Champion, Roy probably would have shirked it off to go find Ed the moment he realized that his boyfriend's distinctive hair was nowhere to be seen in the crowd.

Over the snickers and awes of the crowd, supposedly assuming that Riza and Roy were something more than childhood friends, the blonde woman must have heard Roy's faint sigh, for she sighed as well and discreetly stomped on his foot as they changed direction, "Can you pretend for five seconds that you actually want to dance with me? I know it means nothing to you, but I tortured myself with wearing this monstrosity just because we're the center of attention."

Despite her disdain towards it, Riza looked quite stunning in her pale blue dressing gown, and Roy had just enough self-preservation to point it out before responding quietly, "It's not dancing with you that upsets me and you know it."

He knew that, even though he was half-assing it at best, they were still by far the best dancers out there, as years of ballroom dancing classes together would not be proven futile by their muggle parents.

Roy remembered the both of them receiving their Hogwarts letters and thinking it a big joke until two owls stampeded them in the park, and they looked at each other with such excitement that their parents knew their lives would never be quite normal again. His muggle mother had been at the school until recently, given a brief let-in to watch her only son compete in the dangerous Triwizard Tournament. Having never seen her son use magic before, it was a very… interesting time for her to watch him wave a stick at a whole-ass dragon and manage to stupefy it to unconsciousness (he chose to ignore his currently sprained and splinted wrist, and the several bandages that scratched against his shoulder and chest).

Back in the present, Riza rolled her eyes, "After this dance, you can go find him, I'm not stopping you. I think Jean's called dibbs on my next dance, anyways.

Roy smiled at the girl gratefully, and picked up the dance, noticing they were worryingly close falling out of step with the tempo of the spritely violins. After a few more laps around the dancefloor, the music finally died down to silence, and the audience clapped lightly, more eager to join in than pay mind to the current dancers.

Bidding Riza good luck with Jean, Roy quickly wove his way through the crowd, keeping an eye out for Ed. He found, instead, Al dragging a less-than-willing Winry out to the floor. The younger boy stopped when he saw Roy, and Winry sighed in relief.

"Roy, you and Riza danced so well!" He chirped.

"Thanks, Al. Hey, do you know where your brother is hiding? I haven't seen him around." Roy asked.

Al giggled, "Check around the food. He's probably afraid you'll ask him to dance."

"Well then, he's got a right to be afraid. Have fun out there." He turned from the betrayed look Winry cast him and started for the tables piled high with food. Ed's brother and closest friend (as well as Riza and Maes, of course) were practically the only ones who knew of his and Ed's relationship. Roy had no problem with making them public, but Ed had expressed his concerns enough for the other to hold off from straight-up snogging him in the halls. The blonde, for all his vivaciousness, was terribly shy about showing public affections, and didn't know how his fellow housemates would take his dating a boy- a Gryffindor boy at that!

Ed was nowhere to be found around the food, and Roy furrowed his brow in contemplation. He did see Lust, a fellow Slytherin classmate of Ed's, and decided to test his luck.

"Lust!" He called, and the aforementioned looked at him boredly.

"Mustang, what do you want?"

"Have you seen Elric anywhere?"

"The sweet one or the obnoxious one?" She quirked an eyebrow.

"The one you share a house with." Roy gave in a dead-pan, and Lust's unamused eye-roll did little to help him believe she would actually tell him.

"Well if you need to know, Envy said that he saw Ed on the staircase to the left of the Hall entrance reading.

Roy nodded, "Thanks, I guess." Lust shrugged and walked away.

Roy, thinking ahead, piled two plates with pastries and made his way out of the hall and to the left. He quickly found his boyfriend sitting on the second step, a book rested lightly between his bent knees. He looked up when Roy sat beside him, their legs bumping.

Roy handed over Ed's plate, which he took gratefully, "What're you doing out here? Already abandoned poor Riza to fend with Havoc on the dancefloor?"

The Gryffindor responded as Ed took a large bite of a particularly flaky little pastry the Beauxbatons cooks had prepared, "Riza quit on me. Said I was 'too distracted looking for you' to dance right."

Ed shrugged, "You know I don't like dances, shoulda guessed I wouldn't be in the ballroom."

Roy smiled lopsidedly, "Not even to watch me dance? I looked amazing out there; Al said so!"

Ed snorted, "First of all, watch your ego. Second, Al would tell the worst dancer out there they were great. Dances are just dumb, is all. Shouldn't just having the stupid tournament be enough celebration of inter-school comradery or whatever shit they're promoting?"

"I think it's sweet." Roy commented, not very forcefully. They'd had this same conversation hundreds of times, it seemed, "Either way, if you didn't want to be here so bad, why not just go up to your common room? I'm sure even the dungeons are more comfortable than these stairs."

"The Slytherin common rooms aren't just dungeons, I'll have you know!" Ed retorted, flicking a pastry he was holding slightly at Roy for emphasis, "They're actually very nice, it sucks you don't get to see 'em. I'm here because I didn't get to see you much after the challenge 'cuz of all the press commotion and shit." Ed frowned slightly.

The dragon challenge had been the day before, the three schools deciding that the dance and challenge should follow each other closely to 'lighten the mood' after such a frightening task. True to Ed's words, Roy had been swept away by several Prophet reporters following his close win (after his more serious wounds were treated first, of course). He'd been tired, bloody, and sore all over, so by the time they were done pestering him, Roy had barely the energy to fend off his mother's crushing hugs and frantic words. He had walked her back to the portkey once she was satisfied that he was safe until the next challenge, and from there went straight to his dormitory to sleep, Riza breaking the sea of students for him. The next morning, he had been wholly unamused to find his miserable face headlining the reports of the tournament.

He bit into his food, keeping a smile on his face in spite of Ed's fouled expression, "Well, you can see me all you want right now."

Contrary to Roy's intentions, Ed's face darkened further, "Until the next challenge."

"Ed, What's really the matter?" His proffered hand stung when Ed swatted it away, twisting in such a way to disturb several sore spots.

The Slytherin caught the other's wince, "THIS is the matter, Roy! Look at you, it's like you've been through a goddamn warzone or something! They carted you off the arena; I had to sit through two other dragon-themed ass-whoopings before I even knew you weren't dead. Your mom was in hysterics!"

Roy sighed, "Believe me, I know. I got her earful yesterday."

"At least she got to go down and see you immediately. I've barely seen you since Charms this afternoon, and that was the first time today!"

"So, you've been worried this whole time?"

Ed looked bewildered, "Of course I've been worried this whole time! I fucking lo… li… uh, care about you, you complete asshole!"

Roy, setting his plate aside, took Ed's plate quickly and ensconced the other boy in a tight hug, feeling the tension in the blonde's body coiled up in his shoulders. He relaxed a little in the Gryffindor's hold, huffing out a frustrated breath. When Roy felt a pair of hands gently wrap around his waist, he said, "I'm sorry I made you worry. If it's any consolation, I tried to find you after the challenge and at our meals today. I was too exhausted to really think yesterday, but when I looked today I didn't see you anywhere."

He could feel Ed rolling his eyes in his shoulder, and a second later he heard a muffled, "Had extra credit work in a few classes."

He hummed in response, and they stayed in their embrace for a while. Roy could feel Ed relax the longer he sat against the other, as if the constant assurance that Roy was there made his anxiety lessen. This said, it surprised Roy that Ed was the first to break the hug, standing up at the bottom step with a hand extended.

At the Gryffindor's confused look, Ed blushed, "Well, affection is sort of your thing, so I guess it wouldn't hurt me to dance, at least to make any lovesick Hufflepuff girls aware that you're unavailable." Roy sat, astounded. As far as he knew, Ed kind of hated public affection like this. Ed's blush intensified, probably because he knew vaguely what Roy was thinking, "I- I don't love this, but watching the challenge made me realize that I didn't want to waste my time across the room from you, watching other people try and get in your pants when I could just fucking suck it up and let myself have this, ya know? Shit, I'm embarrassing myself, just take my hand already, yeah?"

Roy grinned broadly, following Ed's orders. He led the way into the dance hall, noticing Ed stiffen when they were at the doors and Roy made no move to release his hand.

"Ed, you don't have to force yourself to do this if you're uncomfortable."

The blonde shook his head, "No, Roy, I want this. I want people to know we're a- a couple. This is a pretty good way to do that, right?"

His smile widened, "It's a great way!"

The brightness of Roy's smile caused Ed to smile as well, and they entered the hall to the vibrant sounds of an ending orchestral piece. They hurried to the floor before the next one started, and Roy had enough time to flash a wink at a confused but excited Al and Winry before the next dance began.

With Roy leading, there wasn't a chance they would mess up, and Ed seemed to trust their steps. Of course, he was flustered at first, glancing around at the other students too much (and sending dirty looks at Winry's smirk) and continually tripped up, but Roy got the other's attention back to him as the dance picked up with a gentle squeeze of the shoulder. Roy could feel eyes on them and heard quite a few girlish voices chirp their names, but he kept them out of his mind. He didn't care a bit about their judgment.

Once Ed was comfortable enough with the movement, he and Roy began chatting amid their dance, mostly about the other dancers.

"You know…" Ed mumbled, his sweet blush never having left his face, "You and Riza did dance very well together."

Roy laughed, "So you did see us! I didn't see you in the crowd!"

Ed mock-glared, "Well it's not because of my height, I know what you're thinking Roy Mustang!" He laughed a bit, "You probably dance better with her than with me."

"Well, I like dancing with you better." Roy murmured, leaning down to speak directly in Ed's ear.

"Oh, shush." Ed huffed, embarrassed. The song slowed to an end, and Ed pulled them off the floor with a small smile, "C' mon, we left our food on the stairs. I'd hate to waste it." His pull wasn't at all in the direction of the stairs, but to a table huddled away from the crowd, absolutely heaped with decorations and food. They could get some good privacy behind that heap…

Roy chuckled, Ed smirked, and they hurried to the table, not seeing the knowing looks of their friends and swelling gossip circles of those newly exposed to, possibly, the most unexpected coupling at Hogwarts.

~End~

#safe RoyEd #RoyEdweek2019 #royedweek #royed #AU #harry potter #yule ball

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elfpen · 6 years

Text

Imperfect Affection

Don't worry, the next chapter of Reprise is in the words, but I needed a brain break from Star Wars, so here, have a mushy snippet from my newest obsession:

Sleep became a mystery to anyone who thought about it for any amount of time. Alphonse Elric had had five years to think about it, but would not let the mystery keep him from diving in head-first.

He'd been in the hospital for just half a day, and he'd slept most of it away. It'd been bizarre - he'd forgotten what it was like to miss whole chunks of life because of sleep. The nurses told him his body was too exhausted to do much else, which made sense. They'd made him as comfortable as he could be to just lie down and rest a while: they'd helped him drink a few sips of water, cut his fingernails and trimmed and washed his hair.

They'd encouraged him to take a bath, too, but hadn't forced him to. Of all the senses, touch was the most overwhelming, and even the fact that he had skin would take some time to accept. Still, Alphonse had taken them up on their offer and fallen asleep in a soapy tub of warm water, only to wake up later fully dressed in bed with an IV in his arm.

"They had to have dried me off, dressed me," Alphonse had agonized to Ed later, red-faced and mortified. "They saw me naked."

"Aw come on," Ed had elbowed him - gently, of course. "Some guys would kill for an opportunity like that. They were pretty cute, weren't they?"

"Brother!" His whole body turned red.

Edward had cackled, and then started coughing up blood again, because he was an idiot.

They'd wheeled Edward away for surgery in the afternoon to remove the bolts in his right shoulder, remove bits of rebar from his left arm, and see what they could do for his broken ribs. He'd be spending the night in a post-op suite, which left Al alone in his darkened hospital room to drift off into a dreamless sleep.

...and wake up again to a pitch-black room and the ghost of another presence in the room with him. It should have panicked him, but it didn't. A hand brushed softly against his temple through the short spikes of his hair.

His eyelids felt like lead weights, and his eyes refused to focus, but he could hear the rustling of clothes and see twin glimmers of glass, a smudge of blond hair.

"Dad?" he said, quiet and groggy. Above the bed, the figure froze, and relaxed again.

"Alphonse," came Hohenheim's voice, just above a whisper. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's okay," Al told him drowsily. "Are you hurt, too?" in his brain, this question made sense. But now out in the open, it made Hohenheim laugh. Alphonse liked the sound of his father laughing. He couldn't remember having ever heard it before.

"I'm fine. Major Armstrong told me he brought you boys here - looks like they're taking good care of you."

His eyes were trying harder to focus now, and he could see that his father was smiling. Inexplicably, he longed for older times, for impossible times, when he and his brother and mother and father could've all been smiling together. But if the last five years had taught him anything, it had taught him that longing for the lost was a fool's errand.

"I'm glad you're here," Al said, and reached out his hand. His father caught it in both of his and squeezed. After a thick silence, Hohenheim choked and said,

"I am too." He ran a thumb over the edges of Alphonse's fingernails, filed short and tidy, and then reached out to brush a hand over his hair, which was still damp from his bath. "It suits you," he said. Alphonse's eyelids fluttered. He remembered falling asleep like this as a child, with his mother brushing her fingers through his hair. "I'm so proud of you, Alphonse." It made him smile, even as his eyes drifted shut. "Take care of your brother for me."

That struck a flat note. Alphonse wrenched his eyes open again, and found the strength to lift his head. "You're leaving?"

"Just for a bit," Hohenheim put out an apologetic hand. "I'm doing no good here. I'm not injured, they need all the space they can get for those who are."

"But… your philosopher's stone," Al made the connections groggily, "can't you help…?"

"No, not anymore."

"Oh."

"They've cut off all communications in and out of Central," Hohenheim told him. "Pinako and Miss Rockbell will be sick with worry for you boys. I'm going to Resembool, to tell them you're both alright."

"Oh." Alphonse wished he could come up with something better to say. "It'll be good to see them smile again," he mused wistfully, and Hohenheim smiled himself.

"Yes, it will."

"Thank you, dad." His eyes were pulling themselves shut again, that mysterious, luxurious pool pulling him offshore to float away.

"Go to sleep, son. I'll see you at home." Alphonse could never be completely sure, but as he fell asleep, he thought he felt his father kiss him on the forehead.

They rested. They mended. After six days, they let Alphonse eat real food. After ten, they let him eat twice a day. And after three weeks, they let him eat whatever he wanted - within reason, anyway.

"Chicken pot pie, pork dumplings, strawberry strudel, tea, sausages, eggs, and bacon?" Ed read off his brother's order with rising incredulity. "What kind of breakfast is… and milk? I know you're starving, Al, but this is too far!"

Alphonse only laughed. In the end, they didn't grant all of his requests, but he got a hefty plate of eggs and bacon and and an early dessert of strudel. They also brought him a pot of tea and a whole pint of milk to drink at his leisure.

"Do you want some, brother?" Alphonse raised the milk jug with a pristine innocence that only younger siblings can manage. Edward's whole body seemed to grow spikes.

"Are you insane?"

"That's okay," Alphonse drank deeply and came away with a white mustache. "It's not like I have any catching up to do - I'm already taller than you."

Edward screeched, and Alphonse finished eating with a smile on his face.

By the time they headed back home, the Elric brothers were in high spirits. Saying goodbye to Central and all of their comrades and friends had been hard, but seeing Lieutenant Havoc and Colonel Mustang healed had been a massive boost.

Teacher had even cried when she hugged them goodbye, and then threatened to kill them if they said anything about it. Sig, weeping openly and silently at her side, gave Alphonse a bundle of home-cooked bacon to eat on the train home.

It was a long train ride, and a longer walk home, but then they were home, and Winry tackled them to the dirt and it was like nothing but everything had changed. Den barked and ran circles around them until they were all the way inside. Winry started crying nearly every time she looked at Alphonse. But then, Edward began to gloat,

"I told you they'd be tears of joy!" And suddenly Winry was no longer crying, and was throwing wrenches instead.

Alphonse peeled and cored apples for the pie Winry had already started preparing, and Granny cut out cold pats of butter for the crust. Amid the din of Winry and Edward's shouting, Alphonse became aware of an absence in the house he hadn't registered until that very moment. When the arguing died down and the house went quiet, Alphonse turned to Granny and asked,

"Where's dad?" The house seemed to slow to a halt. Alphonse looked between Granny and Winry, who'd both gone suddenly still. "He said he'd meet us here."

Pinako put down her knife and wiped her hands on her apron. She drew in a shaky breath. "Maybe you boys had better come with me."

"He didn't even make it to the house," Granny had kept her explanation short because of her own tears. "He came straight here. I think he knew he didn't have much time left. I didn't even get to say goodbye." She sniffed, a terrifying display of emotion for both boys. "I'm very sorry."

She left them to their thoughts, and the brothers sat in front of their parents' headstones for a long time.

"That bastard," Ed said after a long time, even though his eyes were shining with unshed tears, "of course he would leave just to kick the bucket. What a coward. What a," he wiped furiously at his eyes. "Damn rotten father."

Alphonse didn't say anything. He sat with his knees drawn up to his chest and stared at the name on the stone. He remembered the man in the hospital who'd said he was proud of him. "I'll see you at home." Surely he wouldn't have lied. Surely he hadn't meant for it to be like this.

"Ed, Al," it was Granny. The boys turned to her, and backlit by the setting sun, she was holding out two letters. "When I… found him, these were in his pocket. They're addressed to you."

Alphonse took his, and with more hesitation, Edward his. Granny left them alone. Edward and Alphonse glanced at each other, and then opened their letters and read silently each to himself.

Dear Edward,

Dear Alphonse,

I am writing this on the train from Central to Resembool. I did not want to have to write this – I wanted to be able to tell you all of this myself, in person, as I should have years ago. But I realize now that I do not have enough life in me to manage even that.

It was my blood that created the homunculus, all those years ago, and since the fall of Xerxes our lives have been intertwined as one. Now the homunculus has died, and I am living on borrowed time. I may not look it, but as I write, I am just shy of my four hundred and fifty-first birthday. It's absurd, isn't it? That I can be so ancient and only just now as I'm dying do I find a reason to keep on living.

I realize that I am not the father you deserve. In my determination to thwart the homunculus' plans, I abandoned you and your mother and I know I can never atone for that. I can only hope that you believe me when I tell you that your mother and you boys were all I ever wanted. You gave me all I could have ever needed. I am so proud of you.

...I have never seen a more noble sacrifice than your sacrifice for Alphonse. You are a far better man today than I have been in four and a half centuries. Trisha would be beside herself with pride if she could see the man you've become.

...You grow stronger each day, and each day, I see in you a man I wish I could have known better. You are wise beyond your years, and carry your mother's caring spirit into a world that needs it desperately. She would be so proud to see you now.

...I realize you want to hate me,

...I realize you wish you'd known me,

...And I understand why you feel that way, and do not blame you if you never stop,

...And I can assure you I wish I could have known you better all your life,

And I know that nothing I do will change my role in the pain you've suffered these past long years. But I hope, if nothing else, you can accept that in my profound imperfections, I loved you more than I could ever hope to tell you.

In deepest affection,

...Van Hohenheim

...Your Father

When Alphonse looked up, Edward was crying, too. Edward crumpled up his letter, shoved it in his pocket, and stomped off. Alphonse stayed with his parents.

"It's okay," he told his dad, trying to rub out the tears that had stained his own letter. "He's always like this."

Later, Alphonse went to Edward's room and knocked before letting himself in. He noticed their father's letter, wrinkled and torn, smoothed out on the desk and flattened under the only book they'd saved from their father's library.

"Winry's pie is almost ready to eat," Al told his brother quietly. Edward was sitting on his bed, staring out the window. In the distance, the green swell of the graveyard was just visible.

"Do you think he even knew how long he was gone?" Ed asked. Alphonse was taken aback.

"What?"

"If Hohenheim was as old as he said, do you think he even knew how many years had passed before he came back, to find mom dead, us without bodies?"

Alphonse hadn't ever thought of it. He sat down next to Edward on the bed and stared out the window.

"I don't know. Maybe." It was not quite dark out, and the countryside was awash in a dusky blue. Past the cemetery, a string of lights and smoke traced the path of the 7:00 train. Alphonse watched the smoke become clouds and fade into the atmosphere. "I think he loved mom. A lot." It was somehow uncomfortable to say so, but it soothed something deep in Alphonse's gut. "I think he loved us, too. I really think he did. He just…" he shrugged. "Didn't really know how. In his shoes, I'm not sure I would either."

"Hmm," was all Edward said. The two boys watched the sunlight disappear to reveal a world full of stars. Eventually, Edward glanced past Alphonse to see the clock, and his eyes stuck on his brother's hair.

"Your hair's growing out already," he gave it a rough tousle, and Alphonse complained. "You'll have to get it trimmed again soon."

"Better than leave it long," Alphonse combed his hair back into place, miffed. "I don't know how you stand it, brother."

"What can I say?" Edward shrugged, holier-than-thou, "it takes a certain stature to pull this off."

Alphonse rolled his eyes and was about to say something cruel about Ed's height, when Winry shouted across the house to announce,

"Apple pie is ready!"

Alphonse picked up his cane and zipped to the door in an instant. The stairs thumped and groaned as he practically fell into the kitchen, offering to whip cream and put out plates, and anything else that would help him get the pie to his mouth sooner rather than later.

Edward lagged behind and laughed. The night had transformed his window into a mirror, and he caught sight of his reflection as he stood to his feet. He resented the red rims on his eyes, the crusty tear tracks on his cheeks. He scrubbed them away. Then, he picked at the frayed mess of his hair, which was coming undone in all directions. He undid the hair tie and combed at it with his hands.

"We have the same look," Hohenheim had said, when they met at his mother's grave. Edward had braided his hair so fast, it'd been matted for days. He looked again at his reflection, and began to divide his hair into thirds.

"Edward! Do you want pie or not? Better come and get some before Al eats it all!"

"Hey!"

Edward hesitated before gathering his hair into a single, familiar ponytail.

"I'm coming!"

He closed the curtains on his reflection and joined his family downstairs.

#fma #fmab #fanfiction #edward elric #alphonse elric #van hohenheim #hohenheim #winry rockbell #pinako rockbell #my writing #my fanfic

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catgluue · 6 years

Text

The Lucky Ones

Ed and Winry attend a wedding. ~1600 words.

Read on AO3

The Havoc-Catalina wedding took place roughly a year and a half after the Promised Day, as late summer transitioned to fall and the days became shorter and nights became cooler.

They really didn't waste much time, Ed thought to himself, tugging on his bow tie unhappily. He had wanted to go with something more casual but as it turned out, there wasn't any need to worry about what to wear at all. He'd been a little surprised to find out that Winry had picked out his clothes for him, and a little indignant, but in the end it did make his life easier so he said nothing and donned the tux and tie she'd set out for him. With Al in Xing it was just the two of them. Ed tried not to think of it as a date, but it sure felt like it when he considered all the facts.

Fact one: his tie matched the color of her dress exactly. Fact two: he was the one who had received the invitation by virtue of knowing Havoc. They were 'Edward Elric and guest'. And fact three: as they made their way from the main road down to the clearing where the reception was being held, she evidently thought nothing of casually looping her arm through his, her free hand resting lightly on his bicep as she talked to him.

“Wow, what a beautiful reception,” she said in an awed whisper. It was an outdoor party with a large tented dance floor lit by what seemed like hundreds of candles. They were by a lake, and the clearing was surrounded by large trees. The full moon reflected off the lake, giving the whole scene an almost otherworldly ambiance.

“Yeah but I'd hate to be the one who had to light all those candles,” Ed replied. There were even more on the path leading to the reception spot tent.

“That was my contribution,” came a deep baritone to his left. Ed turned to find General Roy Mustang, looking smart in his dress blues, with Captain Hawkeye standing next to him. She was in a long navy dress, with beads sewn into it giving the whole thing a delicate look, but Ed would be willing to bet money on her having at least three firearms concealed in there somewhere.

“Like I said,” Ed replied, reaching over to shake Roy's hand anyway. “So they let you come back from Ishbal for the wedding?”

“Well it's not every day one of my subordinates gets married. Though after Falman's wedding three months ago and with Breda's in the spring it's beginning to feel like it. You look beautiful Miss Rockbell,” he added, with a nod to Winry. Ed had to admit she did look beautiful in her strapless emerald evening gown, her long blonde hair coiled in a low bun. To Ed's irritation she blushed at the compliment.

“Thank you, but please, call me Winry.” It had been a long time since they were all in the same place, pretty much since the Promised Day, in fact, and the awkwardness caused by time was palpable. Winry broke it, however, by shyly sidling up to Hawkeye and hugging the older woman warmly. “It's so nice to see both of you. Have you been well back East?”

They found a table together and chatted amicably for a while. Havoc and Rebecca showed up finally, and speeches were made. Roy gots up and says a few words, as did Hawkeye, and though Ed didn't know the bride very well it was apparent that she and the Captain were old friends. When Winry got up to go touch up her makeup Mustang leaned conspiratorially towards Ed.

“Just think, in a few years we'll probably be doing this all again for you and Winry.” And now it was Ed's turn to blush.

“Oh no, it's not like that at all. I mean, I don't think it is anyway. We're just childhood friends who care about each other, no need to ruin a good thing with, you know... marriage...”

“Hm,” was all Roy said, leaning back in his chair and taking a sip of his champagne. “I guess not. Well I'm going to see if the bride would care to dance.”

“Good luck,” Riza said wryly. Ed wasn't sure he caught the joke, but a minute later Mustang was twirling Rebecca Catalina around the dance floor, probably faster than was strictly necessary but she seemed up to the challenge. Ed heard a giggle as Winry slid back into place next to him.

“I didn't know General Mustang could dance,” she remarked. “I'll have to see if he's free for the next song. If that's all right with you,” she said to Hawkeye, whose guarded expression remained unchanged.

“Please, be my guest. I'm here as his bodyguard so unless you're planning to stab him I'm not concerned.” the groom himself showed up the next minute to ask Hawkeye for a dance, and Ed soon found himself swept up by Maria Ross, who was surprisingly graceful in a pair of heels. They went on like this for a while, all mingling on the dance floor. Ed was having fun reconnecting with these people, he realized. Sure he wasn't in the military anymore but they would always be his comrades-in-arms and an important part of his life. Winry was kept busy too, he noticed; every time he looked around for her she had been claimed by another dance partner. He'd just finished dancing with little Elicia Hughes, balancing on the tops of his own shoes with her small feet, when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

“Free for the next dance, Ed?” It was the Captain again, looking happily flushed and relaxed, two descriptors he rarely had occasion to associate with her.

“Sure,” he said and they moved to the center of the tent. He caught Mustang looking at them once – well, Ed realized after a moment, he hadn't exactly been looking at him, and then the next moment he realized what pairing he had yet to see on the dance floor.

“Aren't you going to see if Winry wants to dance?” she asked teasingly. “She is your date, after all.”

“Yeah of course,” Ed said. “I mean, she's not my date-” Hawkeye managed to shrug while twirling and make it look composed.

“If you don't love her I guess you don't love her but that doesn't seem to be the case. I find it hard to see why two people who care about each other would waste time denying their feelings,” there was a hard edge to her voice under the playful tone and Ed felt a pang of sympathy.

“It's not that, it's-”

“It's simple, isn't it? You got Al's body back; you're home from your travels. You're free, Ed, and I can't make you understand how much of a gift that is. But I wish you would try.” He found he couldn't meet her eyes; there would be too much telling emotion there and he didn't know that it was his place to see it.

“Go ask the General to dance,” he urged quietly. “You're among friends, no one's gonna think-” she gave him a small, sad smile and released his hand.

“Just think about what I said, okay? Second Lieutenant Falman!” she called, heading off to greet her ex-coworker. Ed sighed and walked over to where Winry was being approached by the General.

“Excuse me,” he said loudly. “You're monopolizing my date and I'd like to cut in.” Winry looked up at him, surprise across her face, and Mustang held his hands up, grinning.

“By all means,” he said. “I think I'll take a breather anyway, I'm not as young as you kids.”

“He's a surprisingly good dancer,” Winry said, placing a hand lightly on Ed's shoulder as she laced the fingers of her other hand through his. “They all are, actually. I wonder if that's something they learn at the academy?”

“I wouldn't be surprised,” Ed told her. “Looks like it comes in handy.” He slid an arm around her waist, pulling her close. She smelled of roses, he realized.

“I haven't seen him dance with Miss Riza yet,” Winry said. “Do you really think she's just his bodyguard?”

“The military's really strict about that kind of thing, Winry,” Ed told her.

“Really Ed, it's just dancing.”

“For them, I don't think it is,” he said, looking across the floor to where the General and Captain were standing, glasses in hand, close but not too close. “I think it's a reminder of everything they can't have. We're awful lucky, don't you think?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, looking up at him, blue eyes meeting golden.

“We're free to be who we want, with who we want. I think that's pretty special.” She gave him a small, slow smile at this, and he bent slightly to press a kiss to her temple. She leaned in, placing her cheek to his chest and wrapping her arm more securely around his shoulders as they swayed to the music. Ed found himself wondering briefly if the bride was allowed to choose the groom's tux for a wedding or if that was some kind of bad luck.

The party began to break up not long after. Ed, hand in hand with Winry, said their goodbyes to all of their friends, and congratulations to Havoc and Rebecca.

“Did Mustang leave already?” he said, looking around. But there was no sign of him or the Captain. Maybe they had an early train back to Ishbal. Winry was standing at his side, looking out at the moon on the lake, and gently reached over to tap him urgently on the shoulder.

“Ed, look. I think I found them,” she said quietly, pointing out to an opening in the trees. Ed could see two figures standing out by the water, their hands clasped and arms around each other, dancing slowly to music that only they could hear.

#fullmetal alchemist #fma #fmab #royai #edwin #riza hawkeye #edward elric #roy mustang #winry rockbell #mamahawk if you squint #weddingfic

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stop-klancing-around · 6 years

Text

Lost and Found Part 1

ANNNNND WE ARE BACK WITH ANOTHER INSTALMENT OF DAILY SHIFTS.

I'm a bit excited about some of the things that Ray and I are planning for this AU and I can't wait to share them.

Thank you @raythenerdyfangirl for being my beta once again.

You can also read it here on AO3

Enjoy :)

The room was in disarray, socks that used to be in the drawers are now all over the floor. The desk that was neat with folders and notebooks was now on the bed opened and forgotten with the papers scattered over the sheets. Lance is looking for his textbooks that he somehow misplaced in the dorm. He was now looking under the bed to see if it slide off from the edge but, got up when he discovered that they weren’t sitting on the bottom of the bed.

"Hunk?" Lance called out. There a few footsteps before someone popped their head in just to see if there was an immediate danger before walking in with an apron on and a ladle in his hand.

"What happened Lance? You know not to disturb me if I am stress cooking"

"But, you're always stress cooking though?" Lance tilts his head to the side before going back to his book bag and dumping its contents to the floor.

"That is because I, Hunk Garrett, is always stressed. With all of the work, they give me in Pre-Cal and English Comp. II. PLUS, working as a security guard for the campus, PLUS, STUDYING. I’m more stressed than I was in the Garrison." Lance looks at Hunk for a bit to see that the front of the apron had been stained with some weird orange colored goop. Lance wants to ask Hunk about the stain but refrains because it wasn’t the time to wonder about it. He was panicking himself over hardcover textbooks.

"Oh calm down Hunk. I know that you will ace all of your finals and will get all of your Gen-Ed classes done on time if that was on your mind. Plus it's a security guard job. The most they made us do is break up fights and walk people to a certain point or to their car. This is a very simple job for the most part."

"But that’s still something. What if they’re armed or something and they shank one of us and dip. I am not built for speed. I barely completed the physical test." Hunk looks away from him. Lance walks up to Hunk and places a hand on his shoulder and smiles.

"But you did it. Hunk, you were determined to work with me as a security guard because you said and I quote 'I don’t want you to come back to me and Pidge dead in Miami.' Trust me. We are both lucky to be security guards. Do you know what they make campus police do?"

"No, what do they do?"

"You don't want to know. Plus, campus police are the people who are trying to get their degree in some form of criminal arts."

"Do you mean Criminal Justice or better yet, Criminology?"

"Yeah. Yeah, same shit. Shiro doing all of that and he is in the masters program in Criminology. He asked me if I wanted to join the force. I looked him dead in his eyes and said hummus."

“Wait, where did the hummus thing come from again? I can’t remember.”

“It was when you showed me what was hummus.”

“The same day where you proceeded to spill it on Pidge and they immediately said and I quote ‘hummus?’ before chucking their phone at your head?” Lance rubs the back of his head.

“The same day Hunk. Although, I never knew that a large lifeproof phone would hurt as bad as it did.” Hunk starts to giggle for a mere second before giving out a loud laugh. It gives Lance such joy that he can calm his best friend from anything.

"Man, I forgot how funny you are. You should become a comedian"

"And talk about all of the stupid shit that I’ve done from middle school to now. Including senior year of Garrison High" Lance pauses for a good minute before shaking his head. "Besides, I don’t need any more people laughing at me for the peanut butter incident." Lance shudders at the mention of the word peanut.

"Alright comedian, although, I don’t think anyone would laugh at that one. That experience rather freaked me. You should've told me about the peanut butter thing.”

“I didn’t know it was going to be like THAT.”

“That’s understandable and its okay. So, what did you need me for anyway before we broke into some sappy conversation about my stress levels and comedic relief." Lance had almost forgotten about his problems. He clasps his hands on top of his head and looks at Hunk with wide eyes.

"I LOST THE TWO MOST EXPENSIVE BOOKS FOR MY CLASS AND I AM FREAKING THE FUCK OUT"

"Wait, which books were they before we start panicking."

"It was on Health Care Dynamics and Society and on Hole’s Human Anatomy and Physiology" Hunk winces at the titles. Those books cost actual money because of how old they were.

"Okay, okay, okay. Let's calm down for a second. Lance, where was the last time you used your textbooks?"

"I was at the library a... few... days ago... UUUUGGGH FUCK MY LIFE I LEFT THEM THERE."

"Where in the library?"

"In the study section."

"Was Keith working that day?" That was a good question. Keith was the one who would sometimes call the office to be walked from the library to his car at around 6:45 PM. Lance remembers a flick of a burgundy sweater and a ponytail that day. Lance also remembers that he was talking to Keith about something very irrelevant to his studies.

"Yes, he was working that day."

"Then you should probably hit him up about the textbooks."

"Hunk, you are a damn genius." Lance leaps towards his bed grabs his phone. He locks it to realize that he gave Keith his number but did not receive his. "Hunk, I FORGOT TO TAKE HIS NUMBER."

“Are you sure about that? After the Plastic Angels incident?” Lance thinks about it for a mere second before remembering that he had called Keith the same day he received his number.

“I have his number...”

“Then call him?”

“He’s probably working right now.”

"Well, you are looking at least two hundred dollars on each of those books. So that adds up to four hundred. That is half of your paycheck right there, that if you don’t call him." Lance eyebrows could have hit the roof and the moon if they weren't attached to his forehead.

"I need the money to pay for my classes and food."

"Sorry buddy, you are screwed at this point. I would have helped you but I'm in the same boat as you with all of the expenses." Lance sinks to the ground. He was fucked if he had to repay for those books. He could always rent those books but, they were so hard to find. Plus he had notes specifically for certain pages on those books.

“I’ll make that call right now actually.” Lance looks at his phone one last time to realize that there was a voicemail message waiting to be opened.

"Good. I meant to ask you this but did Keith call you? It could have been a 57 percent chance that he did."

"Ugh, you sound like Slav. I don't want to be reminded of him." Lance calls his voicemail number and puts in his pin. There was one new voice message from Keith.

The moment Keith’s voice begins to speak, Lance could feel both his and Keith nervous energy pouring out of the message.

‘Hey, this is Keith Kogane from the Smythe’s Library, the person that you sometimes walk to their car. This is probably weird because, why am I calling you during your working hours. You left your textbooks on Health Care Dynamics and Society and on Hole’s Human Anatomy and Physiology in the library. I don’t know where you actually live or such to drop off your books so I'll hold off your textbooks until your next visit. Thank you.’ The message ended with a click and Lance is hopping around with Hunk.

“HUNK, HE HAS THE BOOKS. HE SAVED MY ASS FOUR HUNDRED DOLLARS. I GOT TO CALL HIM.” Lance calls Keith immediately after to get hit with his voice mail. “I forgot he working...”

“Leave a message then. It has been three days since he called you and is probably waiting for a response.” Lance looks at Hunk and smiles.

“Hunk has anyone told you that you’re the best?”

“A couple of people, why do you ask?”

“Because you truly are the best.”

“Thank you. Now leave a message for your freckled ‘friend’” Lance wanted to ask Hunk about what he meant when he finger-quoted friend but he was mentally preparing himself to leave a message.

“THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU SO MUCH! I THOUGHT I LOST THOSE. HOLY SHIT! Those books cost too much. I’m sorry, but can you hold on for a second.”

‘Hunk, hold me really quick” Hunk looks at him for a second before speaking

“You’re getting emotional over a phone call Lance. A phone call over textbooks.”

“He just saved me money and stress Hunk, At least give me a hug and comfort please” Hunk sighs and hugs Lance. He gives a few soft taps to Lance’s back before releasing him.

“Sorry about that. I’m alright it's just that I don’t have the money to replace those. I’ll try to pick them up as soon as I can or better yet, can you drop them off? I work at the security office that’s right inside the Honvera’s Arts and Science building. Just walk in and the office is to youuuur” Lance looks at Hunk for help.

“Left, Lance”

“Left. Thanks, Hunk. Thank you, Keith!” Lance hangs up and gets up from the floor.

“Wait, I just realized, Lance you gave him the wrong building.” Lance goes a double take.

“What? Seriously!? It’s not the Lego building?” Lance rakes his hand through his hair. ‘That’s perfect’ Lance thought.

“The fact that you call it the lego building.” Hunk facepalms and shakes his head. “It’s Blaytz Hall on your right.”

“Isn’t that in front of the Lego building?”

“Yeah but it’s still a walk from the library, considering that the hall and the ‘lego building’ are located on the north campus. The library is on west campus. That’s a whole shuttle ride from west to north campus.”

“You are saying like north is further away from the west then south”

“Lance, it is. That is why they are trying to get a transit system up and running by the ending of 2018”

“Welp, hopefully, he doesn’t get lost?”

“Hopefully. Say, do you want to taste what I’m working on?”

“I thought you would never ask.” The both of them leave Lance’s room to the kitchen while talking about the goop on Hunk’s apron.

#klance #Lance #hunk #voltron #fanfic #it pre relationship tho #cas writes

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hari-writes · 6 years

Text

Three Sides to the Story - Chapter 13

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug Pairings: Adrien/Marinette Marinette/Chat Noir Summary: It’s been almost three years since Adrien Agreste walked out of Marinette’s life. An accidental meeting at a party starts a course of events that will either drive them together or further apart. Meanwhile, Plagg and Tikki have had enough of their holders’ indecision and obliviousness.

Read on A03

5th April - before sunrise

Cat Noir ran.

He didn’t know what else to do. He needed to think.

He had returned home from Marinette’s and paced for what felt like hours before deciding that the best way to clear his head would be to get out of his house.

He transformed and vaulted out the window and ascended the first building he reached. Running on the rooftops up Rue de Rivoli, he barely took in his surroundings as he passed Le Louvre. He didn’t have a route in mind, he simply ran, bounding over the gaps in the hotels, shops and apartment buildings. The lights of the Champs Elysees were like a beacon and before he knew it, he was leaping the Place Charles de Gaulle to land lightly on the top of the Arc de Triomphe.

Leaning over, hands on knees, Cat Noir caught his breath. The cold night air stung his lungs, but he didn’t care. Looking south from his vantage point, he took in the beauty of the Eiffel Tower and remembered he and Ladybug’s first battle there, against Stoneheart. He recalled the pep talk he gave Ladybug after she saved Chloe’s life.

“... without you, she'd no longer be here. And because without us, they won't make it, and we'll prove that too .”

He asked her to trust him and she did, every day onwards. When Hawkmoth’s face appeared in thousands of black butterflies, Cat was suddenly less sure of everything he had told his Lady, though. Then, watching her stand up to Hawkmoth and purify those akumas was a sight to behold. That was the moment he fell in love with Ladybug.

And then there was Marinette. She came into her life on the same day he fell for Ladybug, but until he accepted that he and LB would never be together without knowing each other’s identity, he’d never thought of her as any more than a great friend. Until he’d fallen for Marinette, he hadn’t considered that he might have a ‘type’, but both were incredibly similar. He was attracted to plucky, determined and creative women with midnight hair, bluebell eyes, and cute freckles.

While he was thinking about Marinette, how did she know about his pep talk with Ladybug? It was never on the Ladyblog, no TV cameras caught the moment. Unless Ladybug herself told her about it. He wanted to ask her about it that evening but knew that doing so would require more explanation than it would yield answers.

And then there were the nicknames. Only two people called him ‘Chaton’, ‘kitty’ and ‘minou’; Ladybug and Marinette. He knew they weren’t exactly a stretch, given his feline form, but it was still odd.

Unless.

No.

Could she..?

No.

»»————-————-««

6th April

[23.00] Alya: Tomorrow. Lunch. Bears and Raccoons. 12pm. No excuses!!!

[23.01] Marinette: Cool. Got to leave by 2, that ok?

[23.01] Alya: Yeah, no problem.

[23.02] Marinette: À demain!

»»————-————-««

[23.00] Nino: Dude, I have news. Please tell me you’re free for lunch tomorrow?

[23.00] Adrien: Oh, the intrigue! Yeah, I should be free. I’m doing a charity fashion show for Gabriel in the evening, but don’t have to be there until 4pm.

[23.01] Nino: Haha! I like to keep you guessing ;) Does 12 work for you?

[23.01] Adrien: Sounds good to me. Where?

[23.02] Nino: Do you know Bears and Raccoons? On Rue Richard Lenoir.

[23.02] Adrien: Love that place!

[23.03] Nino: Same here. I totally know what I’m having already.

[23.03] Adrien: Bro, you’re making me hungry!

[23.04] Nino: I make no apologies. See you tomorrow :)

[23.05] Adrien: À demain!

»»————-————-««

7th April

“Hey,” Adrien waved to Marinette as she entered the cafe. “Are you meeting Alya and Nino too?”

“Yes. I thought I was late, but if I’m not the last here, I count that as on time.” She grinned, pulling up a seat next to him.

“So, how have you been?” He asked awkwardly.

“Good, thanks. You?”

“Fine.” Oh God, why was this so difficult? He’d been hanging out with Marinette a couple of times a week recently so why was it so strange? “Um, I meant to thank you, actually.” “Really? What for?” She asked.

“For keeping quiet about my visit to your place. I don’t think Nino would ever let me forget it if he knew I turned up at yours, cried, threw up, then fell asleep in your bed.” He looked at her, “I can’t believe you slept on the floor.”

“Honestly, it’s fine. You repaid the favour when you carried me up to Alya’s apartment, I doubt they’d have got me up the stairs without you.” She said.

Silence fell between them and they smiled at each other. The self-consciousness he felt when she arrived had dissipated and they relaxed into each other’s company. When Nino and Alya arrived, ten minutes later, giggly and red-faced with wrinkled clothing, Adrien and Marinette shared a knowing look.

“You guys are about a subtle as a brick to the window, you know,” Marinette said.

“Now, now. Just because you’re not getting any, doesn’t mean you can hate on us.” Alya arched an eyebrow.

“Well, actually…” Marinette started to say. “No. You’re right, I can’t begrudge you getting yours. I know it’s been a while since anyone scratched my itch.”

Adrien swore she gave him a sideways glance at that. He knew the suit’s limitations were leaving him frustrated, but he had never considered that Marinette felt the same. He didn’t trust himself not to give away his identity if he de-transformed with her, no matter what safeguards he put in place. The times he and Ladybug had de-transformed in front of each other were risky enough, but to do it with a civilian? No, he wouldn’t.

“Anyway.” He said loudly, changing the subject, “shall we order so you guys can tell us why we’re here?”

“Good idea.” Nino agreed.

The two men went to the counter to order sandwiches for the table. Marinette insisted on pushing a €10 note into his hand, in spite of Adrien’s best attempts to treat her. Once they were all back at the table, they poured their drinks. Nino and Alya each had a beer, while Marinette and Adrien drank sparkling water.

“Ok, so the reason we asked you two here today,” Alya said, “is because Nino and I are getting married.”

Squealing commenced. Mostly from Marinette, but Adrien was secure enough in his own masculinity to admit that he also squee-ed. Next to him, Marinette was firing questions at the couple.

“When? Where? Are you having toasts somewhere? What are you thinking for the dress?” She asked. Adrien couldn’t help but watch the freckles on her nose as her face crinkled with excitement.

“Ok, calm down girl.” Alya laughed. “In a month from now, the Mairie here in 11eme arrondissement, yes, but we haven’t decided where yet - mum wants to cater the party so we’ll probably do it at our place if we can squeeze everyone in. And, I was going to ask you to take care of the dress, if you have the time?”

“I have so many ideas.” Marinette grabbed a notebook from her bag and started scribbling a couple of initial sketches. Adrien could think of a few designs she had shown him three nights ago that would suit Alya’s body shape. He made a mental note to point them out to Marinette next time he visited as Cat Noir.

“Congratulations, man.” He said to Nino as they fist-bumped. “I’m so happy for you.” And, he was. Sure, he fleetingly felt like the world was moving forward with their lives while he kept treading water, but he was genuinely chuffed for his friend.

“Thanks, bro. I was hoping you’d be my witness. What do you say?” Nino said.

“Of course!” Adrien beamed, “I’d be honoured.”

“And, obviously, I want you to be mine, Mari,” Alya added.

“Really?” She looked up from her notebook. “I’d love to. Thank you.” She looked overwhelmed, like she was trying not to cry with happiness. Adrien knew how she felt.

Their sandwiches arrived and the four tucked into lunch. Chattering happily about wedding plans and Adrien’s fashion show that night, time moved quickly until Marinette got up to leave. Glancing at the time, he decided he should go too. He was required at the runway rehearsals at 4pm and his father wouldn’t tolerate tardiness. He decided to order a couple of lattes to go while Marinette packed her notebook in her bag and hugged her friends goodbye.

They stepped out of the cafe together and Adrien handed Marinette one of the coffee cups. She took it gratefully, admitting that she’d pulled a few late nights to get a design finished. They reached the end of the street and the Gorilla was waiting in the limo.

Her face lit up when he asked, “can I give you a ride somewhere?”

“Um, well, I’m going as far as Rue de Lisbonne/Rue Rembrandt but just drop me wherever is convenient.” She said.

They were headed to practically the same location so Adrien settled into his seat.

“It’s great news, Nino and Alya, tying the knot.” He observed.

“Absolutely.” She agreed. “They’re a great team.”

“I know Alya’s going to have the greatest wedding dress ever.” She smiled at that. Emboldened, he continued. “I bet you’ve already got a hundred designs that would fit the bill as a wedding dress.”

“But only a month to pull it all together.” She frowned.

“If anyone can do it, it’s you, Mari.” He realised he had his hand on her shoulder and he removed it.

She opened her mouth to say something, then appeared to change her mind. She bit her lip and searched his face. Unsure what he’d said to prompt this study, he tried to keep his face impassive.

“I thought this would be more awkward.” She finally said. “You and I have barely spoken in over two years until recently so it should be weird. It’s not, though. It’s like chatting with an old friend.”

Conscience pricked at him and he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. He had a unique perspective on these matters, but it wasn’t one he was willing to share.

Gorilla pulled up on the corner of Rembrandt and Lisbonne and Marinette thanked them both for the ride before getting out and walking smartly into the street and out of view.

»»————-————-««

Walking towards Rue de Courcelles, Marinette felt an unfamiliar weight in her bag. Snapping it open, she found two kwamis in an embrace.

“Guys. Your enduring love is adorable and all, but you’re going to break my purse at this rate.” She whispered. “Adrien’s going to be looking for you, Plagg.”

“So what?” He floated up and settled into the collar of her jacket. “You’re both going to the same place.”

“We were just discussing how successful your campaign to mess with Adrien is.” Tikki added and settled into the other side of her collar.

“Please. I’m feeling really bad about it all now.” She admitted.

“Not at all. You could go bigger if you like.” Plagg said. “You’ve got him squirming. He’s wondering how much he might have given away about his identity. Plus, he’s in a tizz over the whole thing about how you weren’t over him until Cat Noir kissed you. He thinks he cock-blocked himself.”

“Plagg!” Tikki admonished. Marinette just laughed.

“I just, I still don’t understand why he was so upset about my friendship with Cat Noir when he knew all along that it was totally innocent.” She mused. It was the thing that was bothering her the most.

Plagg sighed. “Adrien’s life is strictly controlled, his father dictates every element of his schedule, even now. He had to behave a certain way in public because he’s the face of Gabriel Fashion.” “I know this, Plagg.”

“I know, but you don’t know what happened when he became Cat Noir.” Plagg continued. “He tasted freedom for the first time and he could be whoever he wanted to be. He let himself be the goofy, emotional, funny, unselfish, cocksure and heroic guy that was always there, under the surface. For him, Adrien and Cat Noir were opposite ends of the scale. He is both, but he struggles with that. If he had the choice, I honestly think he’d be Cat Noir forever and leave Adrien behind.”

A tear ran down Marinette’s cheek as the reality of Adrien’s situation hit home.

“He thought you liked Cat Noir more than you liked Adrien because that’s how he feels,” Plagg said.

“Thank you for explaining that to me, Adrien’s lucky to have you in his life,” Marinette told the black cat kwami.

“I know,” He purred, “Will you tell him that for me? I don’t think he realises how great I am.”

They reached the hotel where the fashion show was being held. It had a beautiful art deco ballroom that was being artfully lit when she’d popped in earlier that morning to show Gabriel her dress. They were starting to construct the temporary catwalk when she left for lunch so that should be ready to go by now.

Flashing her ID at the staff entrance, she wandered through the labyrinthine corridors of the hotel until she reached the staging area. Gabriel noticed her arrive and waved her over.

“Mlle. Dupain-Cheng, your dress is exquisite.” He told her. “Modern, elegant and unique. It’s more than I asked for.”

She blushed at the compliment. “Thank you, M. Agreste. I worked hard on it.” “There aren’t many young designers who can design and create and piece like this in such a short timeframe. You will be an asset to the fashion house that snaps you up.” He looked across the room and saw that the models were milling into the ballroom. “Ah, time to get started.”

Marinette grabbed her notebook from her bag and opened it at a fresh page. She stayed a few paces behind Gabriel, trying to blend into the background. He stood tall, hands behind his back and waited until the assembled models fell silent. She was in awe of the respect he commanded. She knew he had a reputation of being a difficult man to get along with, and she knew, now more than ever, how oppressive Adrien found his home life, but Gabriel had revealed a more caring side to her and she felt compelled to prove herself worthy of it.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Gabriel spoke. “May I take this opportunity to thank you all for giving your time to such a worthy cause. This may be a charity event, but we owe it to the audience to make sure it is a slickly run, professional show. I ask each of you to pay attention to Nathalie as she explains the running order, then get acquainted with the dresser you have been assigned. We will have a run through at 5pm sharp, but you will not wear the outfits until the show proper at 9pm. Please ensure you avail yourself to your dresser for fitting, if your pieces require alteration I’d prefer that was dealt with sooner rather than later. Nathalie? If you will.”

At that, he turned on his heel and walked back to the backstage area. Marinette followed. A smattering of applause followed them as they went. She saw a group of familiar faces huddled in the corner of the room.

“Ah, your team is here, Miss Marinette.” Gabriel gestured towards the group. “Students from ESMOD, here to lend a hand with alterations and dressing.”

He handed her a list of names. Model’s names in one column matched to a student in another. She looked at a row of mirrored tables lining the back of the area, each chair had a name taped to it. Plan in place, she approached her peers and cleared her throat to get their attention.

“Everyone? Thank you for so generously agreeing to volunteer your time tonight. I promise it will be a valuable experience. Getting behind the scenes at a fashion show is what we live for, right?” This was met by chuckles from most of the team. “I have here a list of the models each of you will be required to dress. Please take a moment to locate their makeup chair here,” she waved towards the bank of lights and mirrors, “and their outfits here.” She pointed to racks of clothing on the opposite wall.

Earnest nodding and note-taking answered her. She smiled at the awed eagerness of her classmates, it was an emotion she recognised in herself every time she was backstage at the Palais de Garnier.

“Let’s keep access to the catwalk free, ok? Only use that area for quick changes. I suggest you watch the rehearsal at 5pm and take notes. You need to know when your model is due to walk and what they should be wearing. In the meantime, your model should come and find you for final fittings. If you have items that need to be altered, let me know and we can share the workload. Yes?” She said.

“Yes!” The group echoed back at her. She lifted the list and started reading. As each student heard their own name and their model counterpart, she was pleased to see them split from the group to find their assigned makeup chair and selection of outfits.

“Lucinda?” She called, “you will be dressing Claudine. Marc? You will be dressing Paul. Agnès, you have Zoe. Adam, you’re dressing Axel. Leo’s with Hugo. Léonie, you’ve got Mimi. Honoré, you have Chantelle. Estée has Fay… and I will be dressing Anaïs… and Adrien.”

She finished as the models were ushered into the staging area. They were hesitant, not sure how things were going to work so Marinette grabbed a chair and readied herself to climb on it. Adam and Agnès, two of her best friends at ESMOD, took her hands and helped her ascend the chair gracefully.

“Hi, everyone? My name is Marinette, I’m coordinating the backstage effort tonight. Please, go to your allocated makeup chair and your dresser will come and introduce themselves to you. I’m sure you understand that time is of the essence when it comes to alterations so do assist your dresser by making that a priority. I ask that you try on your pieces before the rehearsal so that we can ensure that everything looks awesome on you for the final show. Thanks.” She looked at her friends and smiled.

Agnès grinned back at her and placed her hands on Marinette’s hips. She supported herself on Agnès’s shoulders as the blonde lifted her off her makeshift stage.

“Thanks for arranging this, Mar,” her friend said. “It’s the most amazing experience. We’re all stoked.”

“You know me, I like to share the love when I can.” Marinette joked.

Agnès’s eyebrows quirked.

»»————-————-««

Adrien wasn’t sure who he was maddest at, his father for not telling him that Marinette would be at the fashion show (running things backstage, no less), Marinette for not thinking to mention it on the limo ride across town, or the tall blonde girl whose arms Marinette was currently laughing in.

She said tall blondes were her ‘type’ and this girl fit the bill. “Jealousy’s a bitch”, he’d said the other night and yet, here he was, envious of the girl who was holding Marinette in her arms. He watched her doodle something in her notepad before ripping out the page and folding it up. Marinette slipped the paper in her friend’s jeans back pocket and slapped her ass as she walked away. The girl took the note out, unfolded it and laughed, then carefully refolded it and placed it back in her pocket. Whatever had passed between them, they were obviously close and once more, Adrien was reminded of how much he was no longer a part of her life.

He found his makeup chair, wondering which fashion student would be his dresser. It looked like males were dressing males and vice versa, but a quick count suggested they were one short. Perhaps he’d be with the classmate Marinette dated. He tried to work out which of the two blonde males in the group was Adam.

Snap out of it, Adrien. Be professional. He scolded himself. He knew Plagg would have some choice words if he knew about his jealousy. Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen his kwami for a while…

“Hi, I’m Marinette, I’ll be dressing you tonight.” He watched as she introduced herself to Anaïs, the stunning redhead seated next to him. “If you’re ready, I’d like to check that your outfits all fit. Would you like to come with me?”

She was incredibly competent at this job, even though he was sure his father had thrown her in at the deep end. Gabriel adopted a ‘sink or swim’ approach to mentoring and liked to observe how his trainees coped in difficult situations.

A hand on his knee got his attention. “Earth to Adrien,” Marinette smiled, “I’m dressing you as well so as soon as I’ve sorted out Anaïs, I’ll be back for you, ok?”

As soon as her back was turned, he fist-pumped the air in celebration. It was an inopportune time for his father to look his way.

Gabriel’s mouth curled into a knowing smile. It was deeply disconcerting.

#ml fic #ml fiction #ml fanfic #miraculous ladybug #adrienette #marinette x adrien #marichat #marinette x chat noir #a03 fic #my fiction #my writing #Three Sides to the Story

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georgiabread · 6 years

Text

was i made from a broken mold?

summary: Somewhere, Phil feels his gratitude and pride. He tries hard to latch onto those positive emotions, sick of all the grey. But tonight, he’s so lost in the shade he can’t find any colours.

word count: 2.6k

trigger warnings: anxiety, mild panic attacks, insecurity

a/n: (disclaimer) this is a work of fiction and i don't cast aspersions towards or claim to know anything about phil's life and experiences. the story is based off my own emotions and imagination.

They’re a quarter of the way into the tour, and that’s when Phil senses it brooding behind his rib cage. The beginnings of a thunderstorm, grey and heavy and cumbersome. Expanding, stretching, forcing him to take longer, deeper breaths, more than usual. Demanding trips to the bathroom to close his eyes. Slipping a quiver into his fingers. If he’s honest, it’s daunting. He really thought he could escape it for a while, as if this road trip-adventure would be his ‘safe haven’ for a month or two.

Obviously, he got ahead of himself.

Anxiety knows no boundaries. You can’t give it a call and tell it to stay away for a bit while you’re busy (despite how much Phil wishes it worked like that). But he sort of assumed, and maybe hoped, this tour would take up so much of his mind and body, there’d be no room for a mental illness. As it turned out, the busyness of the tour was more of a breeding ground.

A List of Aspects Which Contributed to the Festering of Phil Lester’s Nerves:

1. Having to confirm extra dates with venues, under the pressure of not disappointing and angering their audience.

2. Constant rehearsals and the stress of fucking up everything they’d worked hard for.

3. The risk of anything about his and Dan’s personal life revealing itself at any point on tour.

4. Figuring out how to pay rent and other bills while they were gone.

5. Overwhelming insecurity and fear of interaction.

It sounds stupid. But it’s all that and more, piling against his brain, until something insignificant breaks the storm.

The convoy’s first official stop is Boston, and everyone is granted the gift of hotel rooms for a couple of nights. On the first day, some of the crew join Dan and Phil to grab coffee. The rest stay behind at Wang Theatre, constructing the set and testing light systems for tomorrow’s performance. Normally, Phil would be eager to do a bit of exploration while buying some drinks as a thank-you to the guys working tirelessly on the show. But today – today Phil is so out of it he might be glued in place as the world continues to move forward.

He’s buried deep. The jostling of city sounds – restaurant murmurs, the hiss of a bus, a dog’s bark – are muffled, as if he’s underwater. His brain is unable to form the words to a sentence. He only manages a monotone smile at the banter thrown between his co-workers. And Dan hasn’t noticed yet.

They stop at a Starbucks on the corner (Phil swears Dan mentioned something about a capitalist agenda once again, but he can’t remember hearing it). Orders are taken, someone pays, and Phil finds himself holding his and Dan’s cups.

Phil takes another deep breath; that’s all he can do in these situations, but his senses kick back in and there are voices in the cafe and people are looking at him and his lungs are frozen solid.

He makes it outside. Someone in the group calls his name, and Phil turns a little too fast, coffee loose in unstable fingers. Unstable footing. Unstable balance. Phil grasps a streetlamp before he can fall, but when he looks down, there’s vanilla iced coffee and chocolate mocha spilt all over the concrete. Dammit. And then –

“Awh, good one, Phil!”

“Dude, how’d you manage that?”

“You clumsy bastard.”

“What the – Phil, you just dropped our drinks. You fucking idiot.” That’s Dan, and those are the words that hurt the most.

And it’s a joke – really, everyone is treating it like one and their words don’t mean anything – but the teasing takes on a scathing filter in his ears. Especially Dan’s.

It takes a while for his mouth to catch up with his brain. “Oh – oh god, I’m sorry. I don’t know what...I’m sorry. Sorry Dan, I’ll just run in and buy you – buy you another one. Sorry.” He scuttles back inside, avoiding everyone’s gaze. If there’s a shift of emotion in Dan’s eyes, Phil doesn’t notice.

On their way back to the theatre, Phil zones out while his thoughts clamber over one another like the zombies in World War Z. His fears, doubts and second-guesses seem to have an agenda of their own, one which involves engulfing him in panic. Does Dan actually think I’m an idiot? Everyone saw that. Why do I always make a fool of myself? God, what if Dan hates me? He tries to find calm in the suggestions collected from mental health organisations, like drinking water and grounding himself with his senses. Nothing works. The thoughts stick around until bedtime; Dan is asleep, back turned, and Phil can’t hear his own heartbeat over the loudness in his brain, but the organ is heavy enough to feel its drum.

He doesn’t acknowledge it, but in the back of his mind is the reminder that he’ll feel this grey and tight-chested for two more days at least.

On show day, Phil’s brain is wading through claggy mud. He feels empty, and at the same time so, so crammed with anguish and fear. Because he’s performing tonight. He’s meeting the people who look up to him, he’s putting on a show that demands energy and happiness. And he’s drained of it.

Dan doesn’t say anything, but one look and Phil knows that he knows. Or, knows some of it. He makes Phil tea and does the talking with Ed and Marianne. He keeps a comforting hand on the small of Phil’s back wherever they go, a reassurance that he’s there. When they sit on the lounge in the dressing room, laptops open on thighs, Phil slouches against Dan’s shoulder and Dan massages his scalp. It doesn’t cure him, but it’s enough to keep him afloat for a while.

The crew is buzzing today – setting up merch stalls, preparing for weird-kid stories and seven-second-challenges, doing more lighting checks. It’s another one of those days where Phil feels absolutely useless, watching everyone organise and work while he steams his voice and gets his face powdered. But it’s not like he has the vitality to work anyway.

“Are you sure you’re alright to do this?” Dan asks him ten minutes before the meet and greet, resting his fingers on Phil’s elbow.

Phil stares at the metal door ahead of them. On the other side are a hundred or so of his audience, waiting with anticipation just to see him. He knows how this works. They grin and hug and stumble over their words, expecting so much in the space of a minute. They want recognition and connection, they want to be known. And Phil can’t blame them because he was in their shoes once, but he can’t give them what they want.

His mind is overflowing. His body is vacant. Everything they say, he won’t hear. Phil turns his head and flashes a weak smile at Dan. “I’m sure,” he says. “You know we can’t call it off, though.”

“I mean…we could? If you really wanted.”

Phil shakes his head. “I can’t do that. I can’t disappoint them.”

Dan stares at him a moment longer, before nodding, squeezing his elbow and threading their fingers together in the few minutes they have left.

The meet up passes by like a fog. When it’s over, Phil can’t recall any names. The conversations and stories are vague and unimportant, yet he finds himself overthinking every word he said, every hug he gave.

And the show? Well, he does good. He remembers all his lines, he finds energy in the adrenalin of being on stage, the audience laughs when he wants them to laugh. For an hour and a half, Phil can jam his mind with nothing but the performance, while his anxiety simmers beneath. But when he speaks, the words don’t belong to him. When their Sim voices his insecurities, he feels more vulnerable than encouraged, especially when the crowds shout their dissent at his feelings.

But the night is still a success. The crew congratulate them with pats on the back and raised wine glasses. Their audience tweets about how hilarious the show was and how lovely Dan and Phil were. Somewhere, Phil feels his gratitude and pride. He tries hard to latch onto those positive emotions, sick of all the grey.

But tonight, he’s so lost in the shade he can’t find any colours.

Eventually, the storm thins.

It happens in the hotel room. The door to their suite clicks shut, a metaphorical breakwater against the swell of everything that wants to drown him. Phil’s feet sink into the carpet. He stares at Boston through the balcony windows; the city blinks back at him, a chorus of silver and gold, and he fills his lungs with air that feels weightless for the first time in days.

Dan was carrying their shared backpack. It hits the floor, and along with it, the pressure on Phil’s shoulders. He closes his eyes. The breakwater shudders. And the waves are crashing over his head, a collision of relief and misery and paralysis, washing away the tendrils of anxiety but leaving a heavy emptiness behind. He murmurs a half-choked, “Dan–” but Dan is already there, knowing exactly what he needs in times like these.

There is safety in the way Dan holds him, warmth in the fingertips trailing across his back, love in the lips hushing him and kissing his temple. Phil sags against him, takes a deep breath against his skin. It trembles, but it’s okay, because the worst is over and he’s here and he’s alone with the one person it isn’t an effort to be around.

In the shelter of Dan’s collarbone, he lets himself cry, just a little.

Then, a shower. He peels off his clothes and steps under the hot spray after shaking his head at Dan’s offer to join him. Dan understands. He needs this, a way to wash off the day and gather himself into something more solid.

After two shampoos and a quick body wash, Phil relaxes his shoulders. He lifts his head and sticks his whole face under the jets. It feels heavenly on his cheeks and silences the world for a moment, as he listens to nothing but the rush of water and his muscles loosen. Several more tears dribble out and join the shower droplets, but Phil reminds himself it’s okay and it’s healthy. And it makes him feel a little better – he climbs out and catches his reflection in the mirror, red eyes and all, and laughs stupidly at himself.

Dan’s buried to his neck in the duvet, staring at his phone, when Phil emerges wrapped in two towels. He slips on a pair of boxers and doesn’t bother with the rest, while Dan dumps his phone on the nightstand and pulls back the covers. Phil crawls underneath, small and needy as he clutches Dan’s waist and pushes his face into his shoulder.

Dan kisses his hair. “Feeling better?” he whispers.

There’s a pause, and a shrug.

“Out of ten?”

Phil whines in the back of his throat, turns his face to the side. “Five, I think.”

“Were you okay during the show?”

“I guess,” Phil mumbles. “I was, like, high on adrenalin but you know what it’s like.”

Dan does know. There were times during the UK tour when his own depression would mute his surroundings and isolate him from his own body. It made it hard to connect with everyone around him. But Phil would be there to hold his hand and keep him upright when he could.

They’re different in the way they deal with their illnesses, Phil had noticed. Dan prefers solitude, where he can beat down his thoughts in private, and finds comfort in the silence shared with another person. Phil needs physical contact and someone to listen to him, someone to remind him he is loved and valued.

Phil shifts so his head is pillowed by Dan’s chest, and Dan’s fingers wind through his damp hair. Usually, Phil would smile. Playing with his hair is always something Dan does when they cuddle. But now, ease makes way for insecurity. He wonders if he really deserves being held like this; if Dan is only comforting him because he feels obligated; if underneath it all, Dan hates him and his whining and his burdens and his dependency and–

“Do you know what triggered it?” Dan asks softly.

Phil breathes, examining the baby hairs on Dan’s chest. “Everything,” he says eventually. “But there was this time when – um. Actually. No, it’s – never mind.”

Silence.

“Phil.”

“Yeah.”

“You can tell me, if you want. Whatever leaves that mouth, I’m not gonna judge it.”

Phil shuts his eyes. He hates this. He hates it because Dan triggered it, really. Dan and the crew but mostly Dan, his words the tipping point. He hates it because it’s not Dan’s fault, per se, but Dan will still feel guilty even though he doesn’t deserve to feel guilty when it’s just Phil’s brain fucking up again. Maybe he won’t even feel guilty, just angry at being blamed, angry that Phil is making such a big deal out of harmless teasing.

But he won’t; he never has, Phil tells himself desperately. He’ll understand.

Phil opens his eyes and his mouth, waiting for the words. One thing he has to work on is cutting off the fear before it magnifies, and he does that now. He focuses on the way Dan’s thumb caresses the back of his hand. He’ll understand.

“We were – we were getting coffee,” he starts, peering up at Dan. His partner only nods, urging him to continue. “Yesterday, at Starbucks. We were leaving, and I had both our drinks and someone said my name and I turned and – and spilt the – the coffee and everyone started shouting and – I was in the, you know, the sad zone, a few days before, and yesterday I was feeling a bit spacey.” Phil wipes the dampness from his eyes. “So when everyone yelled at me – and I know it was a joke and stuff, but it kind of sent me over the edge and that’s why I’ve been such a disaster today. I don’t know.”

Again, silence. Phil can’t bring himself to look at Dan. Vines slink towards his lungs as the quiet lingers, and his mind twists, turns, overthinks.

Then Dan murmurs, “I shouted at you, didn’t I?”

Phil shrugs. “Yeah. But – but everyone did, it’s not like–”

“Phil.” There’s a hand on his cheek, stroking the skin. “I know it might not seem like it, but everything you’re thinking up there is wrong. It’s not your fault. I should’ve noticed sooner what was going on – I’m sorry I was so rude to you, about coffee of all things.”

Phil sniffs and drops his gaze. He feels Dan kiss his forehead.

“Love you,” Dan whispers.

After a few seconds, Phil recognises a calm that settles over him. And then – he laughs. It’s wet and pitiful and there’s nothing really funny about the situation, but he laughs and holds Dan a little tighter. “Love you too. God. I’m the worst.”

“You’re not. You’re Phil, and Phil is allowed to feel like this.”

He should probably say something snarky in reply with an undercurrent of thankfulness, but Phil ends up ditching the first part and smiles softly at Dan, and Dan understands the words without having to hear them.

It’s not over. Anxiety will link its pinkie finger with Phil’s and cling to him for two more days, more or less. But it’s not always unshakeable; beneath the doubts and the worries and the blame, Phil knows he can rise above the clouds and he knows Dan is always willing to pull him up some of the way. For now, Phil presses a kiss to Dan’s chest and lets sleep overtake him, safe in the arms of a love that will always be there to guide him through the fog.

phanfics

#phan #phanfic #phanfiction #dan and phil #fluff #hurt/comfort #anxiety #angst #this is a p*rsonal story

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thejokersenigma · 6 years

Text

Christmas Fan Fiction Advent Calendar 2017 - Day 7 - Ed Nygma x Reader - Opposites Attract Part 6

Sorry this is so late! My wifi went down yesterday and I’ve had such a busy day that I’ve only just had the time to post it!

Sorry it’s not the best - I think they’re a bit out of character - I may have slightly rushed this one as my day yesterday was very busy as well and I slightly ran out of time!

Hope you enjoy it anyway!

MASTERLIST

“[Y/N]?!” She jumped when someone called her name across the relatively empty café as she cleaned one of the tables near the front wall of windows. “[Y/N] [L/N]?!” She looked over at whoever it was yelling.

Kristen Kringle. An old friend I hadn’t seen since high school. She almost couldn’t believe it.

“Kristen?” [Y/N] asked in disbelief. They may have attended the same high school all the years ago, but that school had been hundreds of miles away in a completely state altogether – what was the chances that the two of them would find ourselves in the exact same state, city and café.

Kristen grinned wildly over at her as [Y/N] straightened up from her work, still probably a picture of shock. She left her cleaning supplies at the table and walked quickly up to Kristen, both of them embracing each other in a tight hug.

“Wow, it’s really good to see you [Y/N]! What are the chances?!” Kristen exclaimed.

“Yeah… I know - it’s so weird.” [Y/N] said, awkwardly.

There was a moment of silence between them as Kristen politely smiled at [Y/N] with her usual golden girl look and [Y/N] glanced around the café, conscious that she was technically supposed to be available for any customer that needed her – though at the moment there were only 3 other small groups of people, all happily served and sat chatting away with their mugs and cake.

“So, what are you up to then?” Asked Kristen, “You work here?” She asked, clearly intrigued and [Y/N] was glad when she didn’t hear any sort of derision in Kristen’s voice.

“Well – yeah – I – uh – I own this place.” [Y/N] told her, slightly embarrassed and unable to meet Kristen’s eye, feeling her cheeks warm.

“Oh my! Really?!” Kristen asked, looking around the place now, properly drinking it all in. “That’s amazing! And really impressive!” She cheered. “I’d heard about this place from around the precinct – all good things –“ She emphasised, “But I never thought I’d find you here!”

Something in [Y/N] had frozen at the mention of the Police Department down the road. “You – uh – work at the Police Department?” She asked, anxiously, looking Kristen up and down. No uniform. Kristen had never struck her as the ‘cop’ type anyway.

“Erhm hmm.” Kristen agreed. “I’m the Records Keeper over there.” She told [Y/N] distractedly, not noticing any of the sudden concern that had leaked into [Y/N]’s voice, her mind clearly elsewhere. “Do you still make those cookies you use to?” Kristen asked randomly.

[Y/N] frowned, confused, then realised what Kristen was talking about. “The white chocolate and blueberry ones?” Kristen nodded, “Oh yeah, ‘course I do.” [Y/N] grinned back as though nothing was wrong, and her mind wasn’t panicking about a tall lanky man working alongside her old friend.

“Oooo.” Kristen grinned in joy, her eyes shooting over to the counter on the far side of the room, searching for them.

[Y/N] couldn’t help but smirk – Kristen had always had a sweet tooth. “Come on.” [Y/N] said, “I’ll give you one on the house.” she teased, Kristen grinning back gleefully and they made our way over to the display cabinet.

10 minutes later they were both sat at a table – close to the counter should [Y/N] need to jump up and serve a customer – sipping on hot chocolate and Kristen polishing off a large cookie.

“So, what are your plans for Christmas?” Kristen asked.

[Y/N] shrugged, she hadn’t really come up with much – she hadn’t had time, and any family she had lived miles away with [Y/N] having no money to visit them anyway. “Oh, I don’t really have any.” [Y/N] admitted. “Money’s a bit tight and family is miles away, so I can’t afford to travel home.” She told Kristen. “Thought I’d just have a quiet one alone. Besides, I’ve gotta keep this place open – that’ll entertain me.” [Y/N] said, saying the idea as it came into her head - to be honest it wasn’t a bad idea. [Y/N] didn’t dislike working, and there was bound to be people around that might want a warm cosy café after being out even on Christmas day. Even if there wasn’t, it was better than being stuck in her house alone.

Kristen’s face was one of pity. “You can’t be alone on Christmas!” She cried in outrage and [Y/N] was slightly taken a back at her passion, hiding her face by staring down into her mug. “You should come round mine!” Kristen suddenly proposed.

[Y/N]’s head shot up. “Oh no, I couldn’t impose on you!” She said quickly.

“Don’t be silly,” Kristen tutted, “I certainly wouldn’t mind, and I highly doubt Ed would either.”

[Y/N] felt her muscles tense. “Ed?”

“Oh, yes, I haven’t mentioned him yet. He’s my boyfriend – well I say boyfriend – we haven’t really officially said it yet – we haven’t been going out long.” Kristen admitted.

[Y/N] was numb. “Did you meet him at work?” She asked, her voice croaky.

Kristen nodded, “Yeah, he’s in forensics. He’s a bit odd, but he’s also so very sweet.”

“How long have you two been together?”

“Oh, only a few weeks.”

A few weeks ago Ed had murdered someone.

[Y/N] was really panicking now.

“[Y/N], you alright?” Kristen asked concerned, reaching for [Y/N]’s hand to snap her out of her head. [Y/N] instinctively pulled back and Kristen looked a bit hurt.

“Sorry.” [Y/N] muttered, replacing her hand on the table. “Just lost in fairy land.” She joked half-heartedly.

“Ok…” Kristen said, though she didn’t look entirely convinced, raising one eyebrow In suspicion, but going along with it anyway. “So…” Kristen searched for something to say, “Yeah, you’re more than welcome to come round. Ed’s a brilliant cook!” She added.

“Oh – well – I – Uh, don’t want to be a third wheel...” [Y/N] was trying to think quickly about this. The last thing she wanted to do was spend more time with the murderer, but she couldn’t now knowingly let Kristen be alone with him either.

“Don’t be silly – there’s plenty of time for us to be a couple any other time of the year – Christmas is for friends and family – and your both!” Kristen pointed out. [Y/N] couldn’t help but blush and smile sheepishly. It was sweet she still thought of her like that.

“Thanks Kristen.” [Y/N] murmured. Kristen had always been there for her. [Y/N] was going to have to put her own fears aside and save Kristen from this mad man.

“Oh, that’s my coffee break over!” Kristen said, glancing at her watch. “I’ve got to go, but it was lovely to see you again.” She said, “I’ll stop by at the end of the week for a better catch up! And you have to come for Christmas.” She added, with fake sternness.

[Y/N] teasingly rolled her eyes. “Yes, mum.” She joked back and watched as Kristen gave a little wave and left, heading backdown the street towards the Police Department.

A few weeks later, Christmas day had arrived and [Y/N] hadn’t spent a second not thinking about what to do on the day.

Kristen had come round to the café several times after her first visit to try to confirm [Y/N] for the day, but the closer to Christmas it got, the busier the café became, and the more run off her feet [Y/N] was with the holiday shoppers seeking shelter from the chilly wind and rain.

But now it was Christmas day and [Y/N] was invited for 11am that morning.

She had spent the night lying awake, tossing and turning over whether to go or not.

She should. It was risking her life, but Kristen was constantly risking her life at the moment. [Y/N] didn’t want to tell her. From what She could gather from Kristen’s constant gushing that she seemed to like Ed a lot and [Y/N] didn’t really want to be the one to break her heart by telling her about him. So [Y/N] was going to have to talk to Ed instead. Tell him he had to leave her alone.

[Y/N] did have to wonder how he was taking the idea of her coming round for the day.

Either way, she was just going to have to grit my teeth and do it. For Kristen.

Yet when it hit 9am, Kristen rang her. She had an emergency GCPD meeting to help on a case that had suddenly blown open and couldn’t wait for her to take her day of holiday.

Ed however wasn’t needed apparently – due to no new forensic information being found – and that he would still be happy to keep [Y/N] company for the day.

Sure, he would, [Y/N] thought sarcastically.

But she knew right then that she wouldn’t go. There was no way [Y/N] was volunteering to spend the day with that murderer.

So she spent the day at home – having already planned for the café to be closed anyway – and relaxed around the house, snacking and watching movies all day.

Seemed like a good day to her.

But all day [Y/N] still had that bloody man on her mind. And what he could do to Kristen.

Several times [Y/N] had to bury her head in cushions and moan in annoyance. She just couldn’t sit here and do nothing. She had to speak to the man. Tell him to leave Kristen alone. [Y/N] couldn’t tell Kristen – she probably wouldn’t believe her anyway, just like everyone else at the police station.

[Y/N] had to go see him. She wouldn’t stay, but she had to speak to him.

So [Y/N] finally changed out of her pyjamas and headed to the address Kristen had given her.

Ed was pacing. Ever since Kristen had told him that she had bumped into her old friend called [Y/N], Ed had been constantly stressed that she would find out about the night outside her front door – or even just that Officer Dougherty had not left town, but had in fact been disposed of in a black leather case.

He’d managed to keep himself away from the café and Miss [L/N] since the evening he had spoken to her, been smacked with a baking tray, and nearly stabbed her. He thought it was for the best to keep his distance, despite the voice in the back of his head constantly disagreeing with this and insisting on dealing with the problem in a very permanent way.

Ed would quickly try to shut these thoughts out.

But then Kristen had invited [Y/N] around for Christmas and Ed couldn’t say anything but yes. His normal sane mind screamed no, but in the moment of shock his other voice had taken over and agreed quickly. It wanted an opportunity to see her. Any opportunity to see her, was an opportunity to remove her – no matter the risk of witnesses.

If [Y/N] was gone, Ed could be able to relax, all other evidence gone.

And then Christmas day had arrived, but Kristen had cancelled - having been called into the police station after the Kim Jackson case had been reopened – but insisted that Ed carry on with his day as usual and should still have [Y/N] round.

That had been perfect. At least the voice in the back of his mind had.

But Miss [L/N] hadn’t shown at 11am.

Not that he could blame her. She had made her position on seeing him very clear last time they had met, and she didn’t even know what he could easily have done in the back of the café that night. How the knife had been in his hand. How it would only have taken a few more moments before he brought the weapon down on her.

No, he could not blame her for not wanting to be alone with him. He was surprised she had agreed to come even when Kristen was going to be here.

But maybe she wanted to tell Kristen. Maybe she just hadn’t got round to it yet. From what Ed could gather they were very close – before and still now – so the chances were that [Y/N] did want to tell her. Which just made [Y/N] all the more problematic.

Ed tried to enjoy his Christmas, looking forward to the 4 hours and 33 minutes until Kristen walked back through the door, but his mind was still on [Y/N].

She’s alone right now at her home. There would be no witnesses. Completely vulnerable. It would be so easy. Why not deal with the problem right now?

Ed must have drunk too much wine, reducing some of the normal control on his body, or simply become so lost in his thoughts that he’s become buried in his own mind, allowing the space for the other side of him to take over, because he suddenly found himself with his coat on walking down the street towards [Y/N]’s house.

[Y/N] knocked on the Ed’s door. No answer. She waited a bit longer and tried again. Nothing.

She swallowed her nerves “Ed?” She called, her voice faltering slightly. “ED?!” [Y/N] called even louder through the industrial-looking door. Nothing. No sound of movement or anything. Was he home? This was the address Kristen had given her.

She frowned, unsure what to do now.

Eventually she headed home, defeated, but at least having the slight comfort that she had tried.

She would spend Christmas alone.

Ed rang the doorbell at Miss [L/N]’s house. It hadn’t been hard to find the address, he had simply checked Kristen’s address book.

There was no answer.

He knocked at the door instead.

Still no answer.

Just break in. “No.” Ed growled at himself. He couldn’t believe he was even here. He should just turn around and go home.

He tried to peer through the ground window, through the lacy curtain that blocked the general wandered from seeing into the house. He could detect no movement and none of the lights were on.

He tried the door one more time, but still no answer.

This was a sign. He should leave, despite the voice telling him to hang around for her. There was a difference between paying her a visit, and lurking around her doorway. Anyway, people might see him and if he hung around too long it would look suspicious.

So, he headed back to his flat to wait for Miss Kringle to return.

He would spend Christmas alone.

#ed nygma x reader #reader x ed nygma #edward nygma x reader #ed nigma x reader #edward nigma x reader #ed nigma #ed nygma #edward nigma #edward nygma #thejokersenigma #thejokersenigma fan fiction #ed nygma x reader fan fiction #ed nygma x reader fanfiction #ed nigma x reader fan fiction #edward nygma x reader fan fiction #opposites attract #opposites attract fan fiction #opposites attract part 6

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richneds-blog · 6 years

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a little more reddie !!

prompt: #17. are you upset with me?

Summary: Eddie had been ignoring Richie for days. how do you tell your boyfriend that you can’t be together anymore? Eddie’s answer was: you don’t.

Derry was a ghost town during the early hours of the morning, which is why it was Richie’s favourite time to be awake. No one was ever awake, no one was ever there to tell him off or to tell him what to do, no one was ever there to look at him weirdly, no one was ever around. Melancholy white noise filled his ears, giving him a sense of safety that nothing during the day could. To him, the sky acted as his security blanket, a dark cover shielding him from everything that could possibly go wrong. It allowed him to do whatever he wanted.

Richie wanted to do a whole lot before the sun came up; he wanted to dance and jump around, he wanted to party. He wanted to scream until his throat hurt, releasing everything he kept within him. He wanted to laugh and to cry and to let everything out. But instead, he was walking along a very familiar street, struggling to pick his feet up to continue walking along the gravel, mimicking the very static that made him feel safe. He had his hands buried deep in his pockets, clutching a box of cigarettes. He didn’t have a destination in mind, all he knew was that he wanted to keep walking despite his lack of energy.

Richie found his mind wondering a lot when he was by himself. His mind was a dangerous place to be by himself, and when he was left alone with nothing besides his thoughts, reality turned into a living nightmare. More often than not, he would think about eddie, the small raging ball of anger & hypochondria that was his best friend and boyfriend. He thought about how he’d honestly love nothing more than to be with him right now. He smiled at the thought of eddie, and looked around at his surroundings.

He’d walked straight to the quarry. Spotting a nearby tree, he walked over to it letting his back hit the trunk, and slumped down against it pulling out his packet of cigarettes and lighter. He had a clear view of the cliff and the water below it. Richie stared up at the night sky as he lit a dart and took a long drag, allowing his lungs to be filled with smoke. As his head spun, he thought about how he’d like to be sitting here not by himself, but with Eddie. It was a shame they weren’t talking.

He wanted to have an arm around him and tell him stupid jokes just so he could hear the laugh that he adored so much. He wanted to share with Eddie everything he loved about being awake at this time. He thought about Eddie a whole lot actually, until he thought about what he’d say if he found Richie smoking. They’d been together for a year now, and Richie had promised Eddie that he had quit, just for him. He cringed at the memory.

Quitting had been a slow process for Richie and he struggled with it. He had become angrier and irritated more often causing everyone to not want to be around him, but they all tried their best to help him through it… Eddie especially. To Richie, quitting felt like the worst thing in the world; he hadn’t even realised he’d been so addicted to the things until he was living without them. His chest always seemed to ache and so did his head, he’d always feel more anxious than usual.

It really took a toll on his life for a while, and he didn’t seem like the Richie that everyone knew and loved. It took a couple months to quit and he had been nicotine free for a while now, but sometimes there were certain triggers that caused him to want to reach for a packet again. And despite how much he loved Eddie, he was unfortunately one of them.

Just before he finished the whole cigarette, he rolled up his sleeve and took a deep breath in. He pressed the lit end to the inside of his wrist wincing at the pain. He couldn’t see the mark but he knew that it would definitely scar. It was quite dark, nothing alight but the moon, the pale light bouncing off the water below and illuminating the cliff faces. He let his mind go blank and stared at nothing until his eyes started to go hazy, but he didn’t readjust them.

A feeling of emptiness overwhelmed his body as he lit another cigarette and leaned further back into the tree. After feeling and thinking nothing for a while, his mind wandered back over to Eddie. He’d been trying to spend time with his boyfriend at every chance he got, but it seemed as if Eddie was doing everything he could to avoid Richie. It was coming towards the end of the year, so Richie tried tricking himself into thinking that Eddie was just preoccupied with exams to spend time with him, but he knew there was another reason. He gave Eddie a week because ‘maybe he just needed space’, but Richie couldn’t spend any longer pretending things between them were okay. He was beginning to become touch starved, he wanted nothing more than to just hug the smaller boy because he loves holding Eddie.

He didn’t know what was going on between them or if he had done anything to upset Eddie but he couldn’t get close enough to ask what was wrong. As he sat underneath the tree smoking his cigarette, he racked his brain and tried to think of something he had done that would have upset his boyfriend. ‘Maybe i talk to much and he’s finally sick of me…’ ‘Maybe i said something wrong, I only joke around with him… he must know that by now.’ ‘What if he’s sick of seeing me, and this is his way of saying “Piss off Richie”’, ‘Oh god, what if i’ve lost him’.

His hands began to shake and a single tear rolled down his face. sure, Richie was alone a lot, but it didn’t mean he would get used to his thoughts. He didn’t think he’d ever become used to it. As his thoughts began to dart all over the place Richie felt his throat thickening. He tried to stop the flood of tears that were about to erupt but he had absolutely no strength to do so, so he just sat there and cried. He bent his legs and held his face between his knees letting himself succumb to the pain that had been sitting heavy in his chest for days.

‘You know what?’ Richie thought to himself, ‘Why am I even crying anyway? This is honestly pathetic; I need to stop feeling sorry for myself’. He pulled himself up as the stream of tears continued to fall off his cheeks. He started walking. ‘If Eddie has a problem with me, he should be big enough to say it to my face’. His sadness slowly turned into anger as he continued moving away from the Quarry and onto the road. His fists clenched together so hard that his knuckles turned white. “I haven’t done anything wrong, I don’t deserve to be treated like this, especially by Eddie”. Tears still spilled down his face and he didn’t even realise it.

His steps turned into stomps as he continued making his way down a very familiar road. Before he knew it, Richie was standing outside Eddie’s house. He continued muttering to himself angry remarks as he quietly slipped between the fence and Eddie’s house. He stood outside his boyfriend’s window and quickly ratted his finger against the glass three times, as he always did. The light inside Eddie’s room was off so he couldn’t see anything, not that he could anyway as anger and tears had already blurred his vision. Richie waits for a few minutes before hearing feet shuffling across the floorboards of Eddie’s room and the sound of the window being quietly pushed open.

“Richie?” the smaller boy quietly asks.

“Let me in”. Richie’s voice has a strict tone to it, he’s firm with his words and it’s something Eddie has never heard him use before.

“Are… are you crying?”

He didn’t even realise he was still crying until then. He reached his hand up to lightly touch his face before feeling wet tears on his cheeks.

“Eddie let me in the window before I walk around to the front door and knock as loud as I fucking can.”

“Okay, okay, okay.” Eddie steps aside to allow Richie to hoist himself up onto the window sill, something he’s done one hundred times before. As he pulls himself into the bedroom, Eddie takes a step closer to Richie he smells the familiar scent of ash mixed with nicotine, the very smell that Eddie hoped would never be on Richie again.

“What the fuck… have you been smoking?”

“Are you upset with me?”

“Richie, answer my question first. Have you been smoking?” Eddie’s tone becomes angrier as he realises that he has. Richie looks down at his feet as he mutters a simple “maybe”.

Eddie was shocked. But then again he guessed that this would happen. He still doesn’t raise his head to look at Eddie when he says,

“Now answer my question. Are you upset with me?”

“Richie, no you- “but he’s cut off by Richie’s frustrated splutter of words.

“Then tell me what I did! Because I’m sick of being by myself, crying to myself and feeling sorry for my pathetic ass because I’m too much for you. Tell me what I fucking did.”

“God Richie its not you”

“I swear to fuck Eddie if you’re about to give me all the ‘it’s not me it’s you’ bullshit”

“No, Richie it’s seriously not you.”

“Then why have you been ignoring me Eds?” his voice softened and an emotion spread through his words, another tone that Eddie rarely ever heard him use. “Stop fucking with my emotions, I’m not a toy”.

Eddie felt a jab in his chest, like there were needles around his heart trying to work their way out. He went a little bit numb, the only thing there was the pain in his ribcage. He had no idea how he was about to say this to Richie.

“Eddie, am I not good enough for you anymore? Is that what it is?”

“No Richie, shit.” Eddie grabs Richie by the shoulder and motions for him to take a seat on the edge of the bed. He hesitates as Eddie sits down, so Eddie pats the space on the bed next to him. Richie gingerly takes a seat next to Eddie feeling the mattress sink under his weight. Eddie takes a deap breath before he speaks.

“Listen to me when I say this, because this is really hard for me and I don’t want to say it twice. Believe me when I say it’s seriously not you.” He gulps harshly and opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He decides he can’t make the words out so Eddie makes a faint gesture to the room next door by nodding his head, as if signalling to another person. It took a moment for it to register in Richie’s head because the only other person in his house was… oh.

“Your mom? I thought she… I thought she was okay with us? I thought she was okay with you being gay”

“Apparently not, Chee”. Eddie lowers his head looking ashamed.

“Is this why you’ve been ignoring me?”

Eddie sadly laughs and looks up to meet Richie’s eyes.

“I really didn’t know how to tell you. She… she wants to kick me out. She said ‘Eddie Kaspbrak, I will not have my only son being a- “ he pauses and takes a deep breath before continuing. “I won’t have my only son being a faggot.” His voice trails off and as it does, a tear rolls down his cheek. Richie moves his thumb to wipe the tear away off Eddie’s face.

“Eddie… why couldn’t you tell me? You can tell me anything, and you know that.” They were both silently crying now.

“Because Richie, I didn’t want to see the look on your face when I told you. You’re breaking my heart.”

Everything falls into place in Richie’s head, like pieces of a puzzle connecting at last. He wraps his arms around his boyfriend and lets him bury his face in his chest as they cry. For once, Richie doesn’t have any thoughts. He doesn’t know what to say. All he knows is that he never wants to let Eddie go.

#reddie #hcs #reddie fic #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #it 2017 #it

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