#Beverly lives for slightly longer

[backpackingspace]

Listen I think Beverly should have been allowed to live to wills trial. Girl gets called to the stand goes over the evidence she found and then has 12 binders of more evidence of how it could not be will. Hannibal does of course murder her the next day but the damage is already done by that point

[katyawriteswhump]

the freak in the penthouse

Eddie became an accidental millionaire, coming up with creative content for a video game for his techy best bud Dustin. It's great at first… but not his dream. He winds up living in a hotel room, depressed he let his music hopes slip.

Steve, meanwhile, works in the hotel, and is desperately in debt for medical bills. When his boss asks him to get a male hooker for the ‘freak in the penthouse,' he can’t really let the ‘chance’ pass. After all, the 'freak' didn't look so bad to him, and he's done this kind of thing before when he had to...

Set in the early 90s with some period-typical homophobia. Shamelessly trope-y! This will probably go up to ‘E’ rated next chapter, but ‘M’ for now as this chapter isn’t too spicy yet ;)

also here on AO3 or search the tumblr tag #thefreakinthepenthouse

Chapter one: the freak

Eddie lingered in that warm, fuzzy twilight zone between sleep and wakefulness. He didn’t want to wake up.

His dream—at least, the parts of it trickling back to him—had been hot, hot, hot. He’d been killing it live to an insane sell-out crowd at the Hollywood Bowl and…

…what the hell?

More of Eddie’s dream filtered back. The part which explained his epic boner. He’d not been thrashing out a nine-minute-long power ballad. On that dream-stage, in front of that sell-out crowd, he’d been fucking a deadly hot, deadly cute guy.

Holy shit! That’s almost as unbelievable as anybody paying to come see me play.

He began to wake up for real. A keening sound escaped his throat. On the other hand, the joys of the night hadn’t quite evaporated.

Possibly because he’d gotten his nose buried in a mass of slightly sticky hair. 

He was spooning ANOTHER GUY.

The reality of last night rushed back. Every muscle in Eddie’s body locked up. Wow, wow, wow! And also, Shiiiiiit! 

Steve. That was the guy’s name. Eddie rubbed his nose in the nape of Steve’s neck, inhaling cheap hair gel.

Steve had been good. He’d kissed like a demon and offered up that to-die-for ass like a fallen angel. Eddie recalled rutting deep into Steve’s tight, pulsating body, till sweat stung his eyes. Yup, pure carnal pleasure was a decent distraction from being rich beyond your wildest dreams and too miserable as fuck to enjoy it.

On the flip-side, Eddie had few gripes about life at this particular moment. Slowly, careful not to wake Steve, Eddie crawled an arm over him, wandering fingers through the tangle of hair on Steve’s chest.

Bleeeeeep.

Steve cried, “Wha—?” and sat bolt upright, whacking Eddie’s arm out of the way. He blinked around, raking soft curls from his eyes. Damn. Steve was even cuter with his hair all natural, no longer slicked back.

Steve glanced at his watch and silenced the bleeps. “Crap! I’m on shift for breakfast. Gotta go.”

Steve was rushing around the room already, butt naked. Eddie sighed longingly at Steve’s ass. When Steve yanked some dark blue uniform pants from his knapsack and pulled them on, Eddie sighed even harder.

His focus drifted to the enormous clock-face painted directly onto the hideous pink paisley walls. 

“It’s 6 o’clock? In the morning?” He flipped his lank-feeling hair from his brow. “Uuuuugh. I’d forgotten there were two 6 o’clocks in the day.”

“Some of us have gotta earn a living.” Steve shoved his arms into a not particularly well-pressed white shirt then fiddled with the buttons at his throat. “Talking of which… Can I have my two-hundred bucks, please?”

…

Twelve hours earlier

“Got a job for you, Harrington,” said Kline, head concierge at the Beverly Hills Yorkshire. “Try not to mess this one up.”

Steve looked up from where he was emptying ashtrays into the trash. His least-loved superior drew close and dropped his usually bark-like voice to an undertone:

“Freak in the penthouse wants a hooker. Tonight. 8pm sharp.”

“Oh. Right.” Steve humoured Kline, answering in an equally conspiratorial tone. “Do I call the usual agency?”

“Hell, no. Freaks a freak! Wants a guy. Goddamn dirty queer.” Steve was still tipping ashtrays—best to always look busy when this sleazebag was around. Unfortunately, this meant Kline stuffed a note into the waistband of Steve’s pants, forcing Steve to suppress a shudder. “Deirdre gave me some numbers to call around. Whatever the dirty dogs quote, triple the number—no, quadruple it—before you tell the freak. We can turn a fat profit here. Reckon you can handle that? Or will the figures be too much for that air-brain little head of yours?”

After Kline departed, Steve pulled out the crumpled note. He stared at the numbers and chewed his lip. Fuck, fuck, FUCK. Could he really afford to pass this over?

He wasn’t allowed to wait tables in the silver-service grill anymore—he’d gotten one too many table orders muddled up. He was really feeling the pinch without those tips.

And the ‘freak’ had to be richer than God.

Dude had been shacked up in the penthouse for nearly three weeks now. That place cost over a thousand bucks a night. On the couple of occasions Steve had taken up room service, the guy had lurked in the gloom and behind a curtain of rocker hair. A pale hand with long, slender fingers offered out a ten-dollar bill.

He had to be a rockstar, right? Thought nobody had figured out what band he was in, and guys like that only buried themselves away to drink too much, do drugs, trash stuff, and… fuck whores.

Steve crumpled Kline’s note in his fist and resigned himself to it.  His medication had doubled in price this year, and he was reduced to sleeping in one of the hotel linen closets.

An extra hundred dollars or so would help a lot.

…

Eddie wished he hadn’t answered the phone. It was goddamn Dustin, berating him as ever:

“Eddie! Do I have to stick a firework up your butt or something? Suzie and I have got all the gameplay coding sorted for ‘Vecna’s Doom Quest II’ ready to rock and roll. All we want is for you to sprinkle your magic over the creative content, and we’ll be home and dry for another monster hit.”

“There’s the rub, Henderson. I’m not feeling wildly creative right now.”

“Then get out of that doily-saturated dumpster! Travel! Meet people! Honestly, what was the point of becoming a millionaire at twenty-four if you can’t enjoy yourself. If you’re still cut up about your music, then hire yourself another studio and—”

“You need to get off my back. After your hour-long lecture about how I needed to get laid, I went and did something stupid and now—”

“You did get a date?”

“No, I… Look, this is really not a good time, Henderson.” 

Eddie hung up. 

He instantly felt bad. Jesus, he spent his whole life feeling bad about something these days. 

He knew Dustin meant well. In his own arrogant-little-shit kinda way. Eddie probably should take his advice, go to a club, meet guys he’d like to date, and he would. If the thought of simply leaving the hotel didn’t shred his nerves ragged.

And there was no way he could tell Dustin he’d gone and ordered a rent boy on room service. After a couple of way-too-early-in-the-day shots of vodka, it’d seemed like a good idea. 

Not anymore.

Eddie picked up one of his many guitars, which lay propped alongside the ornate couch. He struck a miserably dissonant chord. The shady guy who’d sold it claimed it’d once belonged to Hendrix. Eddie hadn’t really fallen for that shit then paid a dumb price for it anyhow. On the off-chance it’d inspire some of that metal magic he’d let slip.

“Magic, Munson? You always sucked balls and you know it.”

Jesus, he was talking to himself now, and he knew he was wallowing. These past three weeks, it was all he’d done. Worse, he knew he was an ungrateful dick, not appreciating the journey he’d made from his uncle’s trailer to this.

Which made him hate himself even more.

He tossed the guitar down on the couch—would’ve smashed it, if not for just the teeniest chance Jimi did once deign to touch it. Instead, he punched one of the penthouse’s many fake-marble pillars, then whimpered, blowing on his damaged knuckles.

He was about to call down for ice—and to cancel his ‘date’—when the knock sounded at the door. He considered ignoring it. Then he noticed the time.

8pm.

Rent-boy o’clock.

He’d not realised the day had slid away so fast. It sure as heck dragged till now. He was still considering ignoring the knock, when it came again.

“Mister Munson?”

Eddie dithered a moment longer then went to the grand double doors and opened one a crack. 

His jaw dropped.

The guy waiting on his doormat was good-looking, for sure. Striking was the word that sprung next into Eddie’s mind. His slicked back hair was a touch too yuppy-frat-boy for Eddie’s taste. Eddie totally dug his eyeliner, though, which set off big chocolate eyes to perfection. A vest top revealed leanly muscled arms and was also cropped at his midriff to display a swatch of trim, lick-able flesh, intersected by a trail of wispy hair. His ripped jeans were so tight they might’ve been spray-painted on, and…

…he was also slightly familiar. Eddie was so busy gawking, he genuinely jumped when the guy spoke again.

“Hey. I’m Steve. You, uh, asked for—”

“Look, I was gonna call down and cancel. This was a friend’s idea.”  Yeah, blame Henderson, you snivelling coward. “I changed my mind, okay?”

“Oh.” Steve’s shoulders slumped, although something shifted in his eyes that might’ve been relief. “I’ll be off then… Oh hey, are you okay? What happened to your hand?”

Eddie had made the mistake of pinching the bridge of his nose with his puffy red fingers. “Oh, I’m fine. I whacked myself.”

“You want me to get you some ice?”

“Uuuuuh, hookers can do that?”

Steve winced slightly. “I actually work in the hotel. I mean, as a day job. Breakfast buffet, elevator, room service, odd jobs, that kinda thing.”

“Right.” That raised more questions that it answered. Eddie opted not to pry. “Thought you looked familiar. You look different out of—”

“Out of the shitty bellboy outfit?” Steve rolled those way too pretty eyes, and dumped a bulging knapsack by the doors. “I’ll grab that ice.”

…

Steve dashed to the nearest ice-dispenser, grabbed a first-aid kit too. He rushed back to the penthouse. His heart raced, and he felt kinda flushed, despite the arctic setting on the air con.

Up close, the ‘freak’ was pretty good-looking, if slightly Goth-y and pale. And Steve had to get out of the nasty-ass habit of thinking of him as ‘the freak.’ Now he’d gotten face-to-face with the guy, it seemed mean and douchy.

One of the doors was ajar when he returned. Eddie sat on one of several luxuriant couches, his head in his hands. The place smelled faintly of weed, but nothing worse. Steve coughed, cleared his throat: “Got the ice, Mister Munson, Sir.”

“Jesus, none of that shit. It’s Eddie.”

“Wow. My favourite name.”

Eddie snorted. “Horseshit.”

Steve wrapped some ice chips in a napkin, sat down beside Eddie, who downed a glass of clear liquid that Steve suspected was vodka. Then, hesitantly, Eddie stretched out an elegant, long-fingered hand. Steve took it one of his and pressed the ice to Eddie’s swollen knuckles. Eddie appeared reluctant to look him in the eye, which made Steve feel dead awkward too.

He noticed a massive crack in one of the pillars. Had to be recent. Plaster dust sprinkled the otherwise immaculate Persian carpet beneath.

“You wanna talk about it?” he said, returning his attention to Eddie’s hand. “Did you have an argument with your girlf… boyfriend.”

“Ain’t got no one, brother. Went and ordered you, didn’t I?”

Steve felt like he’d been slapped. Yeah, he’d been ordered on room service, like a platter of meat. Okay, he’d kinda chosen this but… Choices, real choices, had been out of his league for what felt like forever.

He gritted his teeth. “You want me to bandage this, or should I just leave?”

That got Eddie looking up sharply. “Leave?”

“You said you were gonna cancel? Not in the groove for booty calls, huh?”

Steve watched Eddie’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. He tugged his hand away from Steve, picked up the glass with tips of those delicious fingers and offered it to Steve. “Changed my mind. Drink?”

“I feel I should pour, right?” said Steve, nerves fizzing.

Eddie was finally looking at him again, eyes narrowed to simmering slits: “If you like.”

...

anyone here for this? <3 likes reblogs and comments much appreciated and will feed the bunnies🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕

Chapter 2 on tumblr

Chapter 2 on AO3

I've added a hashtag #thefreakinthepenthouse for ease of finding the earlier parts. I can also tag if anybody is interested... please let me know.

zero pressure and one-off tag @sidekick-hero who kindly asked about this one in the WIP tag game and just got a surprised blurble as I'd not typed anything up then...

[terrence-silver]

I just finished season five of Cobra Kai and saw what happened to Terry :( could we have some post season five beloved and Terry fluff? This ending needs some fixing

---

He wakes up on a familiar set of laid out silk sheets.

In his bed.

Glendower Avenue. Beverly Hills.

Terry Silver had the most peculiarly innate, complicated and nonsensical dream vivid even now, lingering, with the sun peeking through the heavy brocade curtains Milos promptly opens with his usual, curt 'Good Morning, Mr. Silver. You've a call from Hong Kong scheduled at eight. Which robe would you like this morning?' --- a usual, well-rehersed ritual. He had a genuine nightmare, he'd dare even say, for accuracy's sake, and even though Terry trained himself not to be affected or controlled by such things after the war through sheer discipline, this was one was something else; John has betrayed him. Terry betrayed him right back. The cops got involved. They didn't talk for thirty years previously --- too much bad blood between them appearantly. What the fuck did that even mean? Dynatox was more or less defunct and obsolete? His...life's work. Terry was miserably involved and equally uninvolved with Gwyneth Paltrow's more annoying cousin in a passionless arrangement and a peanut gallery of equally fucked up, stifling individuals and he became someone else due to it. He sold this house. Why did he sell this house and move out to Malibu? Where were Snake and Dennis? His old staff? Cobra Kai ceased to be for decades, and then it came back and ceased to be again. That Lawrence schmuck an obstacle at every turn, for some reason. Mike Barnes the narcoleptic furniture salesman. Someone called Sensei Joe. Someone who reminded him of Lady Snowblood from that crap movie he saw during his trip to Japan back in the 70's. The Larusso kid was a car salesman who crane kicked him into a glass trophy stand. Who the fuck is Stingray?

He should really lay off the champagne.

Or at least, have Margaret order him a batch of something of even grander quality.

Something that doesn't induce, well --- that shit.

-"My usual pintstripe."- He clarifies on his choice of bathrobe and then continues, slightly stiff, loathing the sensation of being quite so affected; -"Milos. What year is it?"-

He sits up in his bed and he genuinely has to ask, because that --- living hallucination, psychedelic nighttime trance, vision, coke fuelled high or whatever the fucking bullshit that was --- it felt real. Too real. Tangible enough to touch and sense under his fingertips like pulsating flesh. More real than any dream about Vietnam he could ever hope to have even years later. Ending in him led away in the back of a police car like a common criminal. And then he bolted awake. No longer gray and old and so decrepit and lost. -"1985, sir. June 25th."- Milos clarifies, removing the silk peignoir from the closet on it's silver hanger and rolling over his hand, waiting to help him drape himself into once he was ready to get up, being ever so professional in his attentions towards him as Terry adorned himself with the barrage of rings and his gold Rolex neatly placed on the night table, checking for time, trying to distract himself from the reeling, haunting sensation he felt, covered in cold sweat even as he slept entirely in the nude; something his staff was accustomed to by now. -"Are you alright, sir?"- Milos has to ask as Terry gets up, bolting off from the California king-size mattress and covers his nudity in satin, tying the sash around his waist, shaking himself off, cracking his shoulders and neck to get circulation back into his body. He needed to get to exercising right away and de-stress. That's it. Kick some air. Some of his sparring partners, preferably, determined to get himself back into gear and...shake this feeling of dread off.

Some Freddy Krueger bullshit this was.

-"No, I'm not fucking alright!"- Terry seethes, hissing, displeased and not making an effort to conceal it, sauntering towards his master bedroom's door in wide strides, affixing his gelled down hair into a state of order, Milos following his every step diligently. -"Have this bed thrown out and order a new one! I haven't slept well. I want it out by time I come back! Or better yet --- now!"- Terry halts, speaking firmly and feeling like himself again when he was out giving orders, pointing a bejewelled index finger back towards where he had the unfortunate...whatever...and Mr. Dadok nods with a prompt 'Yes, sir.' Fact is, everything that provided him with a nightmare where he and John fell out didn't deserve to exist. Should be burned on Sunset Boulevard like a witch. Terry slams the bedroom door and angrily huffs down the brutalist brick foyer, grand and intimidating, just like he liked and remembered it...just yesterday. He must've slept deep. Deep like the dead. Felt, subjectively, like he was gone for years. He wasn't. He was just smoking a Cohiba in his jacuzzi yesterday.

-"Mrs. Silver is in the dining hall, waiting for you to join her for breakfast."-

Following suit behind him, Milos alerts him of you.

Another thing clicks into place.

And relief. There's relief. Sense. Order. You.

Terry Silvers hastens his speed until he can barely be kept up with.

He needs to see you. Assure that you're real. Not illusory.

He needs to call Johnny too.

---

(I can do you one better --- far better; The entirety of Cobra Kai as a show was merely a bad dream Terry Silver had.)

[ericac318]

Unexpected

Summary:

Adley Benson is a young Data Analyst for Starfleet. She met Jean Luc Picard at 10 Forward three years before this story begins. They began a relationship and now she lives with him at Chateau Picard and works from the vineyard. When Picard gets a distress signal from Beverly Crusher, what happens next for the couple? Picard x OC/Kirk x OC/ Shaw x OC

Chapter 12

A/N: Here’s a bonus chapter with flashbacks to Picard/Adley’s romance along with Shaw/Delaney. This one is just for fun. This chapter will be in italics to represent the past. This flashback chapter also takes a slightly more ‘M’ rating.

Picard/Adley

Four Years Earlier …

Adley had been working from Jean Luc Picard’s chateau for a year when she entered his home to turn in for the night. She knew that it was basically her home now, too, but she had a hard time accepting that information.

“I’m heading to bed, Jean Luc,” Adley announced as she walked into the entryway, “Unless there’s anything you need?” she added, as she’d done every night since her first one staying at his Chateau after she’d convinced him to let her stay.

She always hoped that he’d want more for them, but after a year, she was no longer hopeful that their relationship would take the next step.

That night, however, Jean Luc surprised her, “Would you like to join me for a glass of wine?” he’d shouted, causing her to almost do a double take.

Adley, slowly, walked into the main room where she found Jean Luc pouring his most recent vintage into two glasses, “Did I hear you correctly, Admiral? You’d like me to join you for a drink?” she inquired, truly second-guessing herself.

Jean Luc let out a slight laugh at her confusion, “Adley Benson, you’ve been staying here for a year doing your work. If I wasn’t sure about your intentions when you first showed up, I no longer am. Would you like a glass of wine?” he offered as he held a glass toward her.

Adley smiled as she took it before taking a sip, beaming at the way the wine moved through her body causing her to feel a warmth she hadn’t experienced all day, or in a very long time if she was being honest with herself.

“That’s very good,” she complimented, “ Are you going to release this one or continue trying to perfect it?” she asked as she took a second sip, experiencing the same comfort she’d gotten from the first.

Picard felt his lips curl into a smirk at her comment. He hadn’t realized how much she’d learned about him during their year together in his vineyard.

He sobered himself as he shook his head, “I am planning to sell this one because I think it happens to be a fairly decent blend compared to some of the others. Would you agree with that plan based on this tasting?” he inquired, as he took a step closer to her.

Adley nodded as she took her third sip, “You’d be a fool not to release this vintage. It’s delicious as well as comforting,” she described with her eyes closed, causing him to take a few steps closer to her until he was merely inches away from her.

“Thank you,” he replied, almost breathless, “I always appreciate your candor when it comes to my business,” he added before he changed the subject, “Is there anything else you’d like to discuss before you head up to your room?” he inquired, feeling bold as he locked his eyes onto hers.

Adley could feel the way his eyes were burning into her own, wondering if this was his way of making his move, before she responded, “Well, now that you mention it, Jean Luc, there is something I could use some assistance with, but it would require you to join me in my room,” she stated before she sent a wink his way, wondering what he would do with her coy, yet sexual advance.

Picard smiled to himself as he moved closer to her, closing the small gap remaining between them, “I would be open to assisting you if you truly need my help,” he offered, causing her to take his hand and begin guiding him up the stairs of his chateau.

“You’re the only one who can help me,” Adley responded, her voice coming across more breathy than she’d anticipated as she led him through the doorway to her room before she pushed him gently down onto her bed.

Once he was settled, Adley climbed on top of him, slowly grinding her hips into his, once she was comfortably straddling him, “Let me know if this is ok?”

“It’s more than alright,” Picard replied as he grasped her neck while his body responded to her assault, allowing him to pull her closer until he could place his lips to hers.

Shaw/Delaney

Two Years Earlier …

Delaney Hale had just completed a very taxing day of testing at Starfleet Academy before she joined her friends at one of the local bars near campus.

Her friends disappeared into the crowd once they arrived at the bar so Delaney took a seat at the bar where she ordered a beer, unaware that she was seated next to Captain Liam Shaw.

“Are you here all by yourself?” Shaw inquired once he saw the trainee get comfortable next to him.

Delaney glanced to her right until her eyes focused on Shaw. She attempted to contain herself as she realized who she was in the company of, “Captain Liam Shaw,” she began, “I’m a fan of your work. I like the way you do your job with no-nonsense,” she added as she took a sip from her beer.

“You are in the minority, but it’s nice to know that I have at least one fan,” he replied, “How close are you to graduation?” he questioned as he realized his attraction to this cadet, wondering about their age difference.

Delaney reached her hand out, “I’m Ensign Delaney Hale and I’m three months from graduation. I hope you won’t hold that against me when you decide whether or not you’re going to take me home for the night,” she alluded to the possibilities that their night held, possibilities that she was confident he was also contemplating.

Shaw was shocked at how forward this cadet was, but also intrigued, “What makes you so confident that you think I was contemplating taking you home tonight?”

Delaney attempted to suppress her smile as she took another sip of her drink, before she batted her eyelashes at him, “I don’t know. It just seemed like you were attracted to me. I already know that I’m into you, so it just seemed like the natural next step. However, if I’m wrong, then I’ll go find someone else in this bar/ There seem to be a lot of potential candidates for one night of fun,” she finished as she slid off of her barstool waiting to see if he’d stop her.

Shaw grasped her wrist gently in his hand, “You were right. Come back to my place?” he requested as he ran his free hand through his hand.

Delaney hesitated for a moment to tease him.

Once she noticed he was starting to sweat in anticipation of her answer, she spoke, “If you insist,” she said simply as she allowed him to guide her out of the bar and back to his quarters within Starfleet HQ.

Shaw and Delaney barely made it through the door as they were caught up in a passionate kiss, causing her to push him up against the door once he had it securely closed.

Shaw lifted her into his arms until her legs were wrapped around his waist. He felt her start to undo his jeans as he moved them toward his bedroom.

Once he reached his destination, he dropped her down onto the bed, just as she’d freed him from the confines of his pants, the reveal causing her lips to curve into a triumphant grin.

“Come here, big boy,” Delaney whispered as she started to work her panties down her legs in anticipation.

Shaw moved between her legs until he was lined up with her entrance, surprise evident in his eyes as he felt her hands guide him until he was inside of her.

“That’s it!” she exclaimed as she began bucking her hips against his, “C’mon, baby!” she added, urging him to move with her, matching her pace.

Shaw began thrusting into her at a faster, harder pace even though that wasn’t his usual way of doing things. Delaney was different and he didn’t want to chance to lose her.

Once he matched her pace, she moved them until she was on top of him, straddling him. She started riding him, keeping the same pace they’d established while he was on top.

“Is this alright?” she inquired as she placed kisses on his neck before moving to his jaw, working her way to his lips.

Shaw’s eyes were closed in pleasure as he responded, his hands grasping at her, all over her, “This is perfect. I’ve never experienced anything like this,” he revealed before he continued, “Are you close? I’m not sure how much longer I can hold on,” he confessed as he reached his fingers down until they were on her clit, rubbing slow, small circles over the most sensitive part of her body.

Delaney felt her breath catch, before she nodded, “I’m close. Let go, baby,” she added as she felt herself getting lost in pleasure, not realizing how much this one-night stand would hurt her in the long run.

A/N: The entire story can be read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45696184/chapters/114994717

[forzalando]

The Perfect Arrangement | George Weasley | Pt. 2

Pairing: George Weasley x F!Reader AU: Bridgerton!AU Word Count: 2.2k Warnings: Bridgerton spoilers, a gross man stepping into your personal space, definitely not historically accurate bc i never mention chaperones 

Summary: As a woman in the early 19th century, you’ve been told all your life that marriage should be your ultimate goal, however, you do not share that sentiment. When the insufferable George Weasley devises a plan that may solve both your problems, how can you say no?

A/N: woohoo, part 2 is here!! not a whole lot of drama/interaction between George and the reader but some necessary developments. plus! Eloise! my favorite lady! as always, thank you so much for reading💛

“George, everyone is staring at us,” you whispered as you took his arm.

“Well, we are the most attractive couple promenading this morning, don’t you think?”

You stifled a laugh; partly because you didn’t want to draw more attention to yourself and partly because George’s ego was large enough without knowing you thought he was funny.

“Should I glare at the men staring at you? Let them know that they don’t have even an ounce of a chance?” George asked.

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt,” you mused. “However, I don’t know how your sister would feel if every eligible man in the ton held disdain for her older brother.”

“Oh, please,” George scoffed. “You know as well as I do that Ginny is marrying Harry, it’s just a matter of time.”

You hummed in agreement, though slightly distracted by the way George held you so close. It was unnerving how comfortable you felt with him; most men had always made you uncomfortable, but never George. Even though he was incorrigible, garish, and irritatingly handsome, he never made you feel anything but at ease.

“Lord Beverly is approaching us,” George whispered, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Quick, say something funny and make me laugh, maybe he will turn around.”

“I’m not your jester, nor can I make you laugh on command. Comedy is derived from opportunity, and here, I have none, just your orders.”

“Now we’re quarreling, he’s walking even faster.”

“That’s your fault for acting like my sense of humor is at your beck and call!”

You turned sharply to face him; a scowl settled on your face and nostrils flaring. He was looking at you the same, with his eyes narrowed and a slight blush on his cheeks, whether it was from the summer heat or anger you couldn’t be sure. George opened his mouth to speak again, when someone interrupted him.

“Is this why you wouldn’t give me the honor of a dance at the Danbury ball, Miss Y/L/N?”

Lord Beverly was stood directly in your path, his hands clasped behind his back and a smarmy  smile on his face. He may have been handsome, but Philip Beverly was as horrid as men came.

“I do apologize, Lord Beverly,” you retorted, sickly sweet. “Mr. Weasley has been the object of my affections for quite some time now and I simply could not bring myself to imagine myself with anyone but him all night.”

You looked up at George and smiled, staring into the warmth of his eyes and heaving a dramatic sigh; one you hoped was the sigh of a woman in love.

“Yes, I suppose I understand your trepidation,” Lord Beverly scowled. “However, I have been speaking with your father this morning and I believe Mr. Weasley has not yet proposed, is that correct? Lord Y/L/N made it quite clear he has not received any mentions of a proposal.”

“Why, yes, of course he hasn’t. He has barely begun courting me, the season only began a week or so ago.”

“You’ve known each other for years, surely you must know by now if you are to propose, Mr. Weasley?”

George looked to you for guidance, just as confused as you at the interrogation taking place between the two of you and Beverly.

“As Miss Y/L/N said before, we’ve barely begun courting. I have always had the intention of marrying her, ever since we were children, but I wanted to make sure we are comfortable as partners, not just friends.”

“I am quite wealthy, you know,” Beverly reminded. “My family has considerably higher standing than the Weasley’s and there is so much more I could offer you than he can, Y/N.”

Lord Beverly took a step towards you, completely ignoring George standing beside you, but before you could ask him to step away, George thrust himself in between the two of you.

“If you ever so much as look at my future wife again, I assure you that you will see just how much influence my family has, Lord Beverly,” George spat. “You flaunt your money, your perceived power, when I have friends in much higher places than you could ever dare to dream.”

Philip backed away; his ever present smirk still adorning his face but he could not hide the glint of fear in his eyes.

“Well, I suppose I’ll be on my way,” Beverly grimaced.

“Yes, you shall,” George responded with a glare that would frighten even the most courageous of men.

As soon as Lord Beverly was out of earshot, you breathed out deeply. There was something about that man that made your skin crawl, more so than the other slimy, rich men of the ton.

You laughed quietly, and kept laughing until you were in a fit of giggles, prompting George to look at you quizzically.

“Y/N, what could possibly be so funny about being accosted by that scum?”

“I’m not entirely sure, I just find it amusing how intimidating you can be when you really try. You should be an actor, you know.”

“An actor? Why do you think so?”

“You played the part of a jealous lover far better than I ever could. One might believe you’re actually in love with me,” you snickered.

If you had looked at George for even a moment after your joke, you would have seen the hurt expression flash across his face. He tried to keep it at bay, but the reminder of the nature of your relationship ate at him far more than he imagined.

He had convinced himself that in time, your feelings for him would grow; how could they not when he was so sure that you were soulmates? Destined to be together for the rest of your lives? In doing so, he never stopped to think of the consequences of his actions if you were to never return his affections.

George began to wonder if his heart could bear it, because every time he looked at you and saw your beautiful smile, he felt it breaking piece by piece.

“What do you say to that, Weasley?” you asked with a smile, breaking George from his thoughts.

“I’m…I’m sorry, I was distracted, what were you saying?”

“Pay attention, Georgie, otherwise you might lose your only current prospect for marriage.”

“You’re my only prospect, period, not just current,” he chuckled.

For a moment, you allowed yourself to believe the weight behind his words was truthful, that your courtship was real and true. You’d convinced yourself for years that you held George Weasley in no higher regard than an acquaintance, but at any given moment where you were in the same room you always found your way to each other; bantering back and forth that, to an outsider, must have looked like disdain, but in your heart you knew that you held him at arm’s length to keep yourself from falling.

It had only been a week since the Danbury ball, but spending every day in secret with George (the two of you weren’t quite ready to announce to the public yet until today) and getting to know him as more than just a friend had opened your heart to frightening feelings that you shoved aside.

George Weasley had always wanted to marry for love, an ideal that you never allowed yourself to believe in and now, he was to marry you only because the true object of his affection was not an option.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right. Does that…does that bother you? Do you have any regrets about what you asked me?”

“I’m not sure yet,” George whispered, dropping your hand that he had held so tightly the entire morning.

No, you simply couldn’t allow yourself to entertain the foolish fantasy of feelings, not when you had the sole responsibility of taking care of your own heart.

“Walk me home, please, Mr. Weasley.”

“As you wish, Miss Y/L/N.”

“Y/N Y/L/N,” cried a familiar voice from across the street.

You turned with a smile to see Eloise making her way towards you, her journal in hand as always.

“Thank you for walking me home, George, you can be on your way. I’ll see you tomorrow evening for the Norrington soiree, correct?”

“I wouldn’t miss it. Have a lovely day, Miss Y/L/N.”

He quickly raised your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. Even though you were cross with him, you smiled shyly at the feeling of his lips on your hand, though it slowly faded away as you realized it was all a show for the audience on the street.

As Eloise hurried to you, you couldn’t help but watch George’s back as he walked down the cobblestones towards his own home.

“How dare you? I had to hear from gossiping mother hens this morning that George Weasley is formally courting you? Not only that, but he plans to propose to you? What happened to never marrying? Does your family know? The whole ton has been talking about it!”

“I – I don’t understand, this morning was our first outing together, I’ve just been spending time with him at his family’s home. How could anyone possibly know – ”

You paused, remembering your conversation with Lord Beverly earlier that morning.

“Oh, for goodness sake. Lord Beverly went to my father this morning while I was out with George, asking about proposing to me.”

“LORD BEVERLY?” Eloise shouted, interrupting your explanation.

“Yes, I know. A horrid man, but I don’t believe he will be bothering me any longer. George practically had him running away in fear but, as I was saying, Lord Beverly went to my father and of course I haven’t told my parents of our marriage plans yet, we’ve only just begun courting, so Papa told Beverly that I have no prospects. He approached George and I on our promenade, and practically interrogated us! One thing led to another and George expressed his desire to propose and, well, here we are. Beverly must have opened his mouth and now everyone in town knows.”

Eloise stared at you blankly, her wide eyes blinking rapidly trying to process all that you had just told her.

“Are you in love with George?”

“It appears so…”

You hated lying to her, but you and George hadn’t discussed if you would ever tell anyone and who you trusted to tell in the first place.

“Well, it’s about time!” Eloise yelled in your ear.

“I – excuse me?”

“Oh, you can’t possibly tell me you’ve been oblivious to his feelings all these years. And your own! It’s been painful watching you drone on and on about how you’ll never marry when he’s been right in front of you since we were children.”

“Eloise, you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“What do you mean, he’s courting you and is planning to propose, what is there to misunderstand?”

“Quite a lot, if I’m being honest.”

Eloise saw the guilty look on your face and immediately her jaw dropped, memories of her sister and the Duke clouding her thoughts.

“Of all the lousy schemes to get yourself involved in, Y/N, I cannot believe you. It’s all a ruse?! Is this a common theme with the prized debutante of the season, am I missing something?”

“Quiet yourself, Eloise! It’s quite simple, George cannot marry the woman he loves and I do not wish to marry. We get along fairly well and have things in common. We figured it would be to both of our advantages if we married each other and were able to live our lives as we please without people breathing down our necks about marriage.”

“You are truly oblivious, Y/N.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“George Weasley has loved you for years, I didn’t think it was a secret. The only issue is that you’re too stubborn to look past this aversion to happiness you’ve been harboring.”

“Education makes me happy. Traveling the world would make me happy. My own wants and desires make me happy. I don’t need a man or love to be happy, I thought you of all people would understand, Eloise.”

“I do understand, and because I do, doesn’t that make what I say all the more believable?”

Your reply got caught in your throat, the weight of Eloise’s words left a heavy feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“I see the way you look at him, Y/N,” she continued. “You’ve convinced yourself so greatly that there isn’t a man who will love you for who you are that you’re blind to your own affections and the fact that there is a man who loves you exactly as you stand before me. You’re just afraid. I never thought I would call you a coward – ”

“That is quite enough, Eloise,” you snapped.

“I will relish in saying ‘I told you so,” she quipped back.

You watched her turn swiftly and did the same; stalking into the courtyard and up the stairs to your own home, all the while pondering the words you had shared with Eloise.

Secretly, in the depths of your heart where you never dared to venture, you hoped that she was right about George’s feelings for you, and that thought scared you more than anything.

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[the-avengers-ate-my-tongue]

The Storm

Summary: You work with Jack Crawford and Alana is your cousin, both of you live together for a long time. She gets caught up with a flat tire far away and asks you to let Will in, for he's expecting her. A storm is coming, and she keeps taking longer and longer to show up. Will the universe conspire in your favor?

Pairing: Will Graham x reader

Warnings: swearing, insinuation of smut, fluff.

Word count: 4.328

A/n: I'm starting to consider changing this tumblr for a Hannibal one, mostly Will Graham, so some requests from other fandoms would be nice haha hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing ♥️

*not my gif

There wasn't a thing such as a boring day at the BAU. 

At least not when you're part of Jack Crawford's crew. There was always an interesting case to focus on, a disfigured body to study the reason of death, it was always a thrilling hunt for evidence. The best experience I've ever had so far in my career, and I could only thank my cousin Alana for putting me on the Guru's radar. I was a great crime scene investigator, albeit a little younger than people gave me credit for. I taught people not to underestimate me over the years, though. I got here by my own effort, being a tenacious, hard-working woman who wouldn't get a no for an answer. 

I got along well with my crewmates, Beverly Katz, Brian Zeller and Jimmy Price, though our relationship hardly extended for life outside work. Except for Beverly, we went out for a couple of beers sometimes, she was fun, witty and I really liked our conversations. Jack was the big boss, and that was it. I had a lot of respect for him, and I knew he didn't regret bringing me to his team, I could see it in his eyes in the first case I've got. I was very cunning when I shared my insights about the cases, sometimes I saw things no one else could, no one but…

Of course, I was far, far away from being a Will Graham. But ever since I was younger, I've had this sort of intuition that helped me to solve problems, I would solve riddles easily and when people asked me how I got to the answer, I wouldn't know the steps, I just knew deep in my bones I was right. That happened a lot when I was growing up and was even stronger now that I knew how to use it. It was some artifice of my inconscient, something I could always count on. It included everything in my life, math, logical thinking, riddles. My brain picked things I couldn't perceive clearly, bringing them to the clear waters of my conscience. 

Will Graham was a curious man. He intrigued me from the very first moment I saw him at the house of one of the last victims of The Minnesota Shrike, Garret Jacob Hobbs, now dead. He was practically hiding in a corner, his eyes closed behind the lens of his glasses, dark wavy hair, jawline for days. He seemed highly focused until Beverly started to talk to him, pulling him out of his daze. He could barely look at her, or at me, and although he looked socially awkward and troubled, he still managed to look like a daydream. I studied every inch of his face, lowering my gaze when he seemed to get uncomfortable, after smiling lightly. I was a bit shy myself. I lived with Alana and, when I got home that night, I absentmindedly asked her about that curious handsome man who seemed to be out of place, yet so connected to that scene. She started to talk about him, but stopped once she noticed my interest. Then, she told me he was a very unstable person, that she wouldn't even be alone in the room with him because of her professional curiosity. As time passed and he solved more and more cases, I could see how people looked at him like an attraction of the zoo. However, not me, and later, not Beverly. Brian didn't seem to like him very much, I could see. Envy, perhaps? Nevertheless, the more I saw Will, the more intrigued I got. He avoided eye contact like the plague, but as I was always friendly and tried my best to treat him like a normal person, not focusing only on work, dead bodies and serial killers, I saw more of those beautiful blue eyes. He knew I was Alana's cousin, and I sooner realized he had a fling for her. 

And boy, did that break my silly little heart. I wasn't surprised, though. Who could blame him? Alana was amazing. I never felt resentful for that, but as time passed, I started to detach from the idea of Will being somewhat more than a simple acquaintance. That afternoon, I was going home from work when I got a call from Alana.

"Speak fast, I'm driving." I said, keeping one hand on the wheel and the other holding my phone.

"You're going home? Great. I invited Will so we could talk about a profile I'm building, but I got caught up here. I already spoke to him, he's almost there, can you let him in? He said he'll wait, and I'll be home in about fifty minutes, no more than that, hopefully." She said in a hurry, and I felt my cheeks burn a little. Will and me? Home alone? 

"I…" I hesitated, chewing my bottom lip nervously. "You won't be long, right? Heard on the radio there’s a storm for later."

"I won't, promise. Just let him in, he's already aware I'll take a little longer to be there. See you soon. Thanks, Y/n!" She hung up, not leaving me any time to answer. I put the phone down, still chewing on my bottom lip. I could feel excitement rising on my stomach, making me feel slightly nauseated, and noticed my hands starting to sweat.

Please. That was ridiculous. What was I, a teenager? I was a grown-up, well-succeeded woman, for God's sake. I rubbed my hands on my jeans, driving a little faster than I usually did almost unconsciously. I got home after twenty minutes, parking outside the pretty house. Will was already there, leaning against his car, so lost in his thoughts he barely noticed I'd arrived. I looked at my reflection at the mirror hurriedly, fixing my hair, pinching my cheeks to look less pale, brushing my eyebrows with my fingers to make them look neat. I wasn't even wearing any lipstick today. It had been a long day at work. 

I opened the car door, exiting the vehicle, the noise from shutting the door finally bringing him out of his daze, and he finally seemed to notice me. He smiled lightly, lowering his eyes. He had his glasses on, but as soon as he saw me, he took them off, hanging them on his shirt.

"Hey, Will. I hope I haven't kept you waiting too long. There was a little bit of traffic." I justified, walking to the porch and waiting for him to follow me. 

"Y/n. Not at all, I just got here. Alana explained what happened, thanks for coming to let me in. Hope I didn't ruin any appointment you may have had." He waited until I unlocked the door, and we finally were engulfed with the warm air of the heater.

"Nope, I was coming home, no appointments lost. Please, come in. I'm not sure you've ever been here before, but make yourself home." I hung my trench coat, sighing with the pleasure of being home. I loved the atmosphere of that place. "Can I get you anything? Water, soda, beer…"

"Thank you. I'm fine. And no, I haven't been here before." I held back the temptation of saying "good", biting my bottom lip as I watched him sit on the couch. I just stood there for a while, not sure of what to do next. 

He frowned a little, probably thinking why I was acting so weird, and that made me nervous, because it was just an easy step to realize my silly crush on him. Did he know? What if Alana said something? Said something? For fuck's sake, he was Will Graham, he could probably see that written across my stupid face! Shit, he knows. I'm making a fool of myself. Why do I even…

"Is everything okay?" His voice startled me a little, pulling me out of my neurotic breakdown, and I wondered how my facial expressions looked. Was I blinking only one eye like the stereotyped madness of cartoons? I certainly didn't look normal. I cleared my throat, laughing lightly.

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess I'm not really used to having people over anymore. I've been working a lot lately. People are dying like flies." I sat on the armchair in front of him, sighing. 

"What we do can be overwhelming sometimes. What we see every day. It just… stains you." He said, with a dark look on his serious eyes. 

I nodded. I felt that way sometimes, but I was used to it. I stopped feeling that sense of inadequacy on my chest years ago. 

"I guess you just begin to cope with it, though. Our brain adapts to that harsh reality. But it's always nice to vent somehow. What do you do in your free time?" I asked, wondering if I was getting too personal. Did I sound like I was probing to ask him out?  I felt my face getting warm. Damn it.

Either he didn't realize, or he was just too chivalrous to point, but he didn't mention anything.

"I fish." He said, simply. I nodded with a light smile.

"And you play with your doggies." I pointed, smiling wider. I loved dogs. He'd mentioned them before, so I just brought the subject up, trying to shift the attention from me to them. Will smiled back, his eyes with a subtle glow. He really loved them, and that was so sweet. "Fishing sounds nice. Unfortunately, I could never. I'm too restless. I'd probably startle all the fish and wouldn't catch anything."

He laughed, and that was the first time I ever heard that sound coming out of him. I felt like I was someone deaf that was able to hear the sound of Mozart's symphonies for the first time, and I just knew. There was never detachment from the idea of Will being more than an acquaintance. It was tackled down inside my brain somewhere, for the brain tends to adapt to harsh realities, but it was still there, just waiting for some incentive. 

"It's just a matter of training, getting used to it. I could teach you someday… if you want." He blinked a few times, as if he was surprised with his own boldness, smiling lightly. "And you? What do you do to vent?" He asked, seeming genuinely interested.

"Well, I read a lot. Maybe I could read by the riverside while I watch you fish." I said, shrugging with a subtle smile.

"It's a date, then?" Will inquired, making me mortified. Caught me by total surprise, and when I was about to say something, my phone rang.

"Excuse me." I answered the phone. It was Alana. "Hey. We're already here waiting for you."

Not that I wanted her to arrive any time sooner, but she didn't have to know that.

"You won't believe me; I've got a flat tire. There's a guy helping me out, I was lucky, I'm in the middle of nowhere. But I'll get there in about fifty more minutes, more or less. Can you put Will on the phone? I'll explain everything to him."

"Do you need one of us to pick you up? I'm sure he wouldn't mind, I wouldn't…"

"No, he's almost done. Thank you. Let me talk to Will, I'll be there soon. The storm is about to catch me, I wanna hurry."

I sighed, grimacing at him. 

"She wants to talk to you." I passed him the phone, studying his expressions while he talked to her. As I looked at the window, I could see the dark clouds gathering up, making the end of the afternoon murky. The storm was about to hit hard. I could see a few thin drops of rain starting to wet the glass.

"I can stay a little longer, no problem. I'm being well attended." He traded looks with me, biting his lip slightly. "Okay. I'll see you soon, Alana."

He gave me the phone, but Alana was already gone. I put it on the coffee table, getting up.

"I think I'll pour myself some wine. Do you want some?" I asked politely. "It's one of the fanciest ones; Hannibal gave us a bottle when we dined at his house a few days ago."

"Yes. Thank you." He waited for me to come back with the beverages, and I did my best not to spill anything, sitting on the couch beside him while I gave him the glass. "So you're acquainted with Dr. Lecter?"

"Oh yeah, he's an old friend of Alana's, sometimes he invites us to dinner. He cooks the best meals I've ever had in my entire life, so I don't exactly decline the invitations. And he's one of the most brilliant people I've ever met, so it's always interesting." I took a sip of the crimson liquid, moaning low in pleasure. Good wine. I preferred a good cup of hot oolong, but it was impossible not to appreciate the quality of that drink. 

A few glasses after and a lot of talks about dogs, fishing and other hobbies, he finally felt safe to bring back the topic. The rain had started really pouring, the now thicker drops hitting the windows loudly. Alana hadn't called again. It was nighttime now, the sky seeming to be darker than usual. I was low-key worried about her, but the conversation was too great to interrupt. She was a good driver. She would be just fine. 

"I've been seeing Hannibal Lecter in his office. Not exactly his patient, though. A courtesy of Jack Crawford to keep an eye on the coping of my brain functions." He sounded a bit bitter, drinking a few sips of his wine.

I could see he didn't like therapy. Must be hard with someone with a mind like his.

"You know, sometimes, Alana psychoanalyses me. Like, she doesn't even notice. It's cute, but sometimes it creeps me out." 

"She has a professional curiosity about me, but she's too polite and considerate to let it slip out. We've never even been alone in the same room together."

I held back a bitter comment, not wanting to talk shit about my cousin, but he saw it right through me. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to put you in a complicated position."

"I know. You're sweet." The word slipped through my tongue before I could contain it. Will blinked a few times, seeming surprised, and I felt my cheeks burn, starting to stutter. "I meant… I'm sorry, did I make you uncomfortable?"

"No, no. It's just… no one's ever called me that before." It was my time to get surprised. He didn't seem to be complimented much, and that just made me flabbergasted. I couldn't be the only one who saw how fantastic Will was.

"... Ah. Well, some people are just shy. I'm shy as hell, don't even know how I had the nerve to say that, it's probably the wine starting to kick in. Hope I really didn't make you uncomfortable, though. Don't need to be polite, it's okay to tell me."

"Actually, I'm curious to know what else you think of me. I sense it's not the only word you have to define me." He sounded bolder, and his eyes were on mine, giving me shivers down my spine. 

"Well… I think you're too exceptional to be defined with a few words. You're… Kind, brilliant… I see how seeing what you see, doing what you do, how it wrecks you sometimes, and you just keep doing it because you're saving lives. That's so selfless, Will. That's…" I was going to say more, but at that very moment, a loud thunder just made the house practically tremble, and I let out a real inelegant weep, coming closer to Will and holding his arm firmly, my fingers grabbing on the fabric of his shirt. He could've thought it was an artifice to get closer to him, but he could see how frightened I was, trembling like a cornered wild little beast. I hated thunders, fireworks, anything loud. Feeling ridiculous, I released his shirt, apologizing with embarrassment.

"It's okay. It's just noise. I'm here." He put some of my hair that had fallen to my face behind my ear with such a tenderness that I felt my stomach twitch, realizing suddenly how close we were. He was looking at me as if it was the first time he was actually seeing me. 

The phone rang again. Alana! I grabbed it from the coffee table, turning to face Will. He wasn't avoiding eye contact anymore, his pupils were dilated. My breathing was accelerated, and I knew it had little to do with the thunder.

"Lana, is everything okay?" I asked with genuine concern. "Are you close?"

"Ah, Y/n. I'm so sorry. I don't think I'll make it in time, I'm driving slow, the roads are slippery because of the storm and it's pretty foggy. I'll stop at a motel and spend the night, or at least wait for the storm to pass. I'm so furious with myself!"

"It's okay cuz, do what's safer for you. I'm sure Will will understand. I'll pass him the phone." I gave him the phone and he talked to Alana for a few minutes, but I wasn't listening. She'd ruined the moment unintentionally, and now he was probably going home. When would I have an opportunity like that again? 

"Okay. Don't worry. I'll see you tomorrow. Bye, Alana. Take care." He gave me the phone and I put it on the coffee table again. Before any of us could say anything, another thunder cracked the sky, and this time, Will held me so I wouldn't be afraid. The lights went out, and he held me against his chest protectively, making me smell his aftershave and some perfume. He smelled so good. For a moment, I just stood there in his arms, feeling his warmth, his breath, the steady beats of his heart. 

I moved away just a little to see his face, very close to mine, but it was so dark I could only see shadows. A lightning lit up the room and, just for a little moment, I could see his gorgeous eyes staring at me. After a soft touch of his thumb on my lips, he finally kissed me, so gentle, like I could break as fine china with any rougher move. I touched his neck with both my hands, playing with his hair, feeling how soft they were. He pulled me closer, his hands on my waist, and the kiss started to get deeper, voracious, as if we were hungry for each other. Maybe the wine was helping to raise the lust; all I know is that I've wanted that to happen for a long time. Will's kiss was everything I imagined it would be, but entirely different at the same time. All I could say was that he was great at it. His hands traveled through my body, and I grabbed his hair, pulling it slightly. That made a low growl echo through his chest, and I started to feel my body fervent as a bonfire.

I couldn't say much because I was breathless and I didn't want to stop what we were doing, so a single word left my lips as I kept my forehead on his.

"Stay."

Will bit his lip, kissing me again, and that was all the answer I needed.

xx 

Morning. Thin sunrays illuminated my bedroom floor through the curtains, waking me up. The storm was gone. I haven't had a nice night of sleep like that in ages. I looked at the other side of my bed and there was Will, sleeping heavily. It wasn't a dream, after all. Last night really happened. I smiled, staring at the roof with disbelief in my eyes.

I stared at him for a few seconds, unsure of what to do. Should I just let him sleep? He looked so heavenly, his hair was messy, his breathing steady, he seemed so less troubled than he usually was. I touched his hair lightly, caressing it with tenderness, and he started to move. I could see his neck, and a few hickies we marked on his albescent skin. That made me blush a little bit, and I laughed silently. 

He opened his eyes while I still touched his hair, but I didn't stop, and he didn't seem to want me to. We stared at each other in silence for a few moments, and he smiled, a different smile than the usual ones he gave me.

"Hi." He said, pulling me closer by my waist, stroking the skin under the sheets. I pecked him on the lips, then kissing his forehead, his cheek, his jawline. 

"Hey there. Good morning. I'm starving, are you having breakfast with me?"

"Actually, I gotta go home. Feed the dogs." He said, stroking my nude shoulder with his finger.

"Of course. Your dogs. I won't keep you then, poor babies must be so hungry." I kissed his cheek and was about to get up when he pulled me again, gently kissing my lips. I smiled, probably looking like an idiot. A joyful idiot. "I'll let you get dressed. I'll be in the kitchen."

I dressed up in my long and black robe, smiling at him before I left the room, going to the kitchen, where I started to make some french toasts. After a few minutes, I heard the front door open, and an exhausted Alana came in, her hair frizzy and her coat looking still a bit wet.

"Oh, Lana! Go change, you'll get a cold!" I stopped what I was doing, going to her and helping to take off her coat.

"That storm was a nightmare. I swear I won't ignore the warnings ever again. I'm so sorry, I had no idea it would get this bad, yesterday was one of those days where everything just goes wrong. Hope Will arrived well at home, did he seem disappointed or annoyed before he left? I was so inconvenient…"

I didn't even have time to answer, because Will opened my bedroom door, coming out while buttoning his shirt, suddenly realizing Alana was there.

"Oh." Alana said, looking so flabbergasted I almost laughed at her. Will rose his eyebrows at the sight of her, seeming a bit unsure of what to do or say. I wasn't planning for her to find out like this, it was a bit early, I wasn't expecting her to arrive so soon. "Hi, Will."

"Alana. Hi." He avoided looking at her, staring at me, and his eyes immediately softened. I smiled, he smiled back, and that was it, Alana was forgotten.

"Off you go to feed your children." I joked, biting my bottom lip. "I guess I'll see you later, then."

"Definitely." He simply said, kissing my forehead while caressing my hair, certainly a little embarrassed to kiss me in front of Alana. "See you later, Y/n. Bye, Alana."

"Bye, Will." I waved with a soft smile, and he grabbed his jacket, leaving the house.

My smile grew larger and I left my head fall back, squeaking low in commemoration. What a night! What a morning! I never thought I would thank a storm so much, let alone a bloody thunder.

Before Alana could say anything, I realized Will had left his glasses at the coffee table, and I picked it up in a hurry, bursting through the front door and calling him before he left, waving in front of the car.

"You forgot your glasses!" I said, and he opened the car windows, raising his hand to pick them.

I leaned against the car window, putting the glasses on him, and kissing his lips fiercely. He moaned in surprise, holding my face to deepen the kiss. After a moment, I pulled away, appreciating the view of his lips so reddish. 

"Go back inside, it's cold." He said with a cheeky smile, and before I could say he actually made me hotter, he took off with the car.

I went back inside, where Alana was waiting for me with her arms crossed. 

"What the hell did you do to Will Graham?" She asked, sounding severe, but a smile was trying to escape her lips "I mean, besides trying to suck his soul with your mouth a few moments ago."

"Oh, shut up!" I laughed, blushing violently. "You made that happen, you know? Thank you. Was that a set up or did the universe actually conspire in my favor?"

"I wish I'd planned this. That would mean I would've had a plan b and I wouldn't have stayed at that disgusting mote… Y/n, you're full of hickies, I can't believe you!"

"You're starting to sound like my mom, Lana. I'm gonna wear a turtleneck, don't worry, I don't want Beverly all over me like a bloodhound and Brian and Jimmy's witty comments today. In fact, keep it to yourself, okay? Will's discreet. I won't even tell Beverly, if she finds out, the whole bureau will know, hell, maybe even Freddie Lounds."

"I told you to let it go, Y/n. Will's very unstable right now. I… I only want what's best for you." She said with concern in her bright blue eyes. I sighed, walking to her and kissing her cheek with affection.

"You're a good cousin. But I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself, okay? Unless this isn't only about me, unless it concerns something else." I raised an eyebrow while staring at her, more confident that I've ever been. "Is there something you wanna tell me?"

She hesitated, clenching her jaw, but never spoke. 

I smiled, tapping her cheek very lightly in approval.

"I gotta get ready to work. Wanna grab lunch with me later?" I asked in a casual tone, a cynical smile on my face. She shrugged. "See you later then, cuz."

[malfoysmaybank]

richie x reader where he pretends to hate her but actually doesn’t and the losers don’t know why he hates her but he’s actually in love with her

The Quarry - Richie Tozier x Fem!Reader

a/n: of course!! nobody died/ moved away in this and some street layouts were changed to help with plot details!! also, this is in she/her pronouns as of the request, but lmk if i need to make an alternate version with different pronouns for anyone!! enjoy, and ty to this anon who sent in requests for a bunch of underrated characters!!

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Finally, the last day of sophomore year. The Losers burst through the front entrance of Derry High School and headed towards the trash cans, like usual, to dump the contents of their school bags into the garbage. Y/N, the only other girl loser besides Bev, joined them as she had done since the 5th grade. 

------

Y/N had been brought to the group by Stan, the shyest but most friendly loser. The others had been suspicious of her at first, but she soon proved herself worthy of being a loser when she stood up to the Bowers Gang, who were making fun of the others.

Richie instantly liked Y/N. With her fiery personality and sarcastic humor that in ways rivaled his, how couldn’t he? They grew close fast, soon becoming best friends. They did everything together: homework, skating, they even killed Pennywise together when they were only 12. 

But in the 8th grade, he started pushing her away and blowing off plans with her, he never even told her why. They were obviously in the same friend group, so he couldn’t ignore her forever, so he went for the second best option: being a dick.

Now Y/N had very thick skin, but when he started hating her all of a sudden, she started to become very insecure and upset over him. Alas, she wasn’t about to let a man talk to her like that and not do anything. Eddie was the only one who knew how Y/N truly felt about how Richie treated her, having confided in him early on. But in the eyes of the other losers, Y/N didn’t give a shit what he said about her.

------

“Dude, why does she have to tag along for everything?” Richie groaned when he saw Y/N approach. “I don’t know, maybe cause these are my friends too? An odd concept to you, I know, since you think the world revolves around you.” She shot back and turned to the rest of the group. “What are you all doing tomorrow?” She asked. “I-I don’t know yet. I was thinking we sh-s-should go down to the quarry if everyone else is c-cool with that.” Bill said, still stuttering but only slightly, as he was growing out of it as he got older. 

The rest of the group agreed, including Richie, (surprising, considering he never agreed to anything if you did), and you made a plan to meet at the quarry with food at noon for a losers-only picnic. Y/N bid goodbye to her friends and walked back home.

------

“Bye, mom!” Y/N headed out of her house, backpack over her shoulder and bike in tow, to meet her friends at the quarry. As she neared the end of her street, she hopped on her bike and started riding down the sidewalk. “Yo Y/N, wait up!” She looked back to see Mike riding towards her, a couple of the others trailing behind. 

Mike, Ben, Stan, and Y/N all lived in the same area of Derry, while Bill, Beverly, Eddie, and Richie lived on the exact opposite side. Going anywhere usually meant each half of the group gathering and then meeting halfway. Speaking of the others...

------

“I still don’t understand why we can’t do anything without Y/N. She always makes everything so boring!” Richie complained as he walked to the quarry with the other 3 losers in his half. “Dude, you were just fine and dandy with her until the end of middle school when you started acting like she’s worthless!” Eddie argued back. 

“Look, I don’t know what the fuck has gotten into you, but you need to learn to at least deal with her, got it? She’s our friend and no matter what reason, you need to tolerate her because we love her.” Eddie gestured to Bill and Beverly who nodded, and then to Y/N and the other 3 losers approaching, who were all laughing at some dumb joke she said. I do too, he thought.

Richie’s heart skipped a beat and butterflies erupted in his stomach as he looked at you. Fuck, why does this always happen?! He suppressed the urge to hug you (why the fuck did he want to hug you for no reason?!) as he greeted the other three losers with a smile and wave. When she saw him smile, it was her turn to get butterflies in her stomach, as per usual. But forget it, she thinks. He hates you.

Y/N stripped down to her bathing suit and waited for the others to do the same. Richie subtly checked her out as he pulled his shirt off and turned to talk to Eddie and Bill. His muscles became more toned since last year, so Y/N was surprised when she saw him. She not-so-subtly checked him out as well. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer!” Richie calls behind him. “Could say the same to you, Tozier. I saw that, earlier!” Richie’s face flushed and he turned to Eddie again. That whole ‘jumping in the water with only undergarments on’ thing ended in 7th grade when everyone hit puberty, it just wasn’t going to work anymore (and for obvious reasons). 

Before anyone could battle her, she ran towards the edge of the cliff and jumped off. Her body hit the cold water and it felt amazing compared to the sweltering summer heat. She swam out of the way for the boys to follow and unsurprisingly, Richie was next. He was always the daredevil of the group. This was followed by Beverly, then Bill, Ben, Stan, and then Mike and Eddie at the same time.

After they all ate lunch, Y/N sat on the little shore on the edge of the water. She soon heard her name being called. “Y/N!! We’re playing chicken, get over here!” Beverly yelled. Y/N swam over and hoisted herself onto Bill’s shoulders. Beverly got onto Mike’s shoulders and the game started. Richie sat next to Stanley as he watched the game from the rocks. “You like her, don’t you?” Stan said gently. “What?! Of course not? Why would you even think that...” Richie wasn’t convincing him. “Whatever you say, my friend.” Stan said and patted him on the shoulder. Richie rolled his eyes and turned back to the game.

Y/N defeated Beverly for the second time and raised her arms in victory. That’s kinda cute, Richie thought. And he didn’t even second guess or correct himself this time. “We play the winner!” Stan yelled towards Bill and Y/N. “We do?” Richie whispered to him. “Yep, we do.” Stan replied and swam towards them. Richie soon followed suit. 

“Okay Richie, get on Stan’s shoulders. Whoever wins the most rounds out of 3 wins.” While Bill explained the game and all the rules, Y/N looked at Bev on the rocks. Bev gave her a wink and a thumbs up, whatever that was supposed to mean.

The game began and she tried her hardest to push Richie off of Stan’s shoulders. “Damn Stan, you got grip!” She laughed and Richie laughed too. Why was he being so friendly all of a sudden? She decided to talk to him about it later, she was having fun and she didn’t want to ruin it. 

Richie finally got her off of Bill’s shoulders and she tumbled into the water. She came back up and started laughing along with everyone else. “Y/N, we should clean that up real quick.” Eddie said and pointed to her elbow, which was scratched up. “Oh okay, that’s fine.” She said. “It must have happened when I was fighting Bev because it looks like it already started to heal up. I didn’t notice it at all.” She laughed and went up to the rocks to clean the small wound.

She grabbed the rubbing alcohol from Eddie’s backpack and started pouring some on the edge of a spare towel she brought. “Well, this is gonna hurt.” She said and hissed as she placed it on her elbow. She felt a hand rubbing her back and leaned her back onto the person’s chest, thinking it was Stanley, only to realize as she was reaching for the Neosporin and a bandaid that it was Richie. Since the other losers were maybe 10 feet away, she thought now would be a great time to confront him.

“What’s with you being all chill with me now? I thought you hated me.” She said and Richie sucked in a sharp breath. “Eddie talked to me earlier as about you. He said that I should ‘at least put up with you’ because you were part of the Losers Club and you deserve to be treated with respect because you’re their- our! Our friend.” He explained. Her heart sunk as she thought she realized what he meant.

“Oh, so you’re just being nice to me because you have to be?” She asked, dissapointed. “No no no!! Not at all, I’m genuinely sorry. To be honest... I don’t know why I was such a dick to you. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I should’ve had a mature conversation with you on why I was feeling so insecure and shit instead of ghosting you. Not only did it fuck up our friendship, but it fucked up any chances I had of being with you, as more than friends.” Wait, what did he just say? 

“It wasn’t cool and I feel so stupid knowing that I-” “Just shut up.” Y/N cut him off and placed her lips on his. He got over the shock fast, brought his hand up to hold her face, and kissed back. Their moment was cut short by Beverly. “Yeah Tozier, get some!!” She yelled and Y/N giggled as they pulled away and stood up. Richie laughed and flipped her off. 

“I know I’m not off scot-free, but does this mean you’ll at least give me a chance?” Richie asks hesitantly as they walk towards the other losers. Y/N put a finger to her chin and pretended to think. “Hmmm... okay. But only one. And we’ll be discussing boundaries and all that jazz tonight when I sneak you through my window and you stay the night.” She says with a serious tone and Richie nodded. He picked her up and spun her around. “Thank youuuuuuuu!” He sets her down and kisses her forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment. “Ewwww, do we have to deal with all your gross PDA now?” Ben and Mike say in sync and all the losers laugh. It’s not perfect, she thinks, but it’s pretty fucking close.

[babytortie]

band-aid kisses

band-aid kisses ❘ eddie kaspbrak x reader.

summary: in which the reader gets frustrated with eddie’s obliviousness and attempts one last time with a big gesture that he wouldn’t misinterpret.

warnings: some fluff, slightly heated scene and teasing. <3

contains: eddie kaspbrak being a smug brat.

* all characters ( including reader ) of the loser's club are seniors and 18 in this one-shot.

~ 2.6k words.

it started with subtle winks, innocent kisses on his cheeks, and letting your fingertips linger on his skin. you even went as far to leaning more than usual into him. i mean come on. a wink? the tips of your fingers leaving feather like touches to his shoulders and arms? sitting so closely that he scooted over to give you room, only for you to practically glue yourself on him? this boy is freaking clueless.

or so you thought. the day eddie noticed the change in your friendship was the day you were at his home and the two of you laid across his bed. it was another hot summer day and the fan on his ceiling was spinning around to keep the room a cool temperature. ever since the summer of it, he’s been more carefree, like for instance, letting his hair grow out longer to the point where styling it was no use.

most days he let his brunette hair blow-dry and then the curls were all sprung out in different angles as a result. a certain strand was sticking up bothering you. this caused you to scoot across the bed to him so you could flatten it to the side. you may have ‘accidently’ let your palm sit a second too long on his cheek. sure, eddie didn’t have a problem with you being touchy. besides richie, you were the closest to him within the loser’s group.

even hypochondria and the fear of germs couldn’t stop the constant liking he had when you were close in distance. when the two of you were younger, even before it, you liked to kiss his cheek on occasion as what was supposed to be a simple gesture. later on, when you left though, the other boys, richie, stan, and bill always picked on him jokingly about you.

the amount of teasing only grew when beverly, mike and ben joined the group. when eddie wasn’t around that day, the other’s, especially richie and beverly, would tease you as well. this cycle always came back around to ben trying to have your back claiming it was one of a kind ‘love’. ben meant well but unfortunately that suggestive assumption didn’t help at all. if anything, the opinions that ben gave who figured was helpful, only winded up the additional club members and the comments worsened.

the asthmatic teen could tell something was different in the air now between you and him. then it clicked that day when he glanced over at your makeup less face. despite the fact you were lounging around in sweats and a messy bun, you were perfect to him. you were best person ever to eddie kaspbrak. 

your best friend realized that you like him and he definitely likes you. it was just the fact he was so nervous to act on those instinctive feelings and didn’t want it to ruin everything if he was wrong. besides the couple of times, you put yourself out there, you were just as clueless. but when you had an over-thinking shower you couldn’t help but notice the confusion. 

eddie knew you so well, yet, it was odd that he hadn’t come up with any conclusions. the freckled boy continuously acted as if the actions you constantly made weren’t totally out of character.

a time more recently, the eight of you were on the way to a party and piled up in the back seats of bill’s van. something his mom graciously bought him so the losers could be safer when going out. this was because a month before that, you and the group drove down the main road and just about halfway there, bill was almost pulled over by henry’s father.

during that time, beverly was perched on ben’s lap and you were dangerously squished up to eddie's side. all of the losers, excluding eddie, had said later that night that you and kaspbrak were a bit to close in the car for just friends. which was sort of true but it was purposely picked by the others for you and eddie to share a single chair that was on the smaller side.

while lounging on half of eddie’s right leg and with your back was to his side, you moved your hip around purposely. only giggling softly when he let out a small groan at you taking awfully long to change positions and get comfortable again. though the smug brunette didn’t even acknowledge you with anything else. he knew exactly what you were doing but just continued on with the conversation he was having. talking about nonsense with stan, the blonde curly haired boy that was sitting in the passenger seat diagonal from the two of you.

rolling your eyes at eddie’s ignorance, you turned to look at richie who was sitting right across you and eddie, giving him a sad and defeated pout. the trashmouth teen had the audacity to watch it play out and carried on chuckling to himself quietly. richie turned to take a glimpse behind the row and you looked to see that beverly was sharing a smirk in agreement with him for the current situation. little shits.

when kaspbrak still wasn’t looking, tozier skillfully puckered his lips and pointed at him. you cursed and swatted his hand away before the asthmatic could notice. eddie noticed the two of you play fighting and pursed his lips. “why are you bullying y/n/n now, rich?” you glared at richie, as if to say “don’t you dare”, and he sighed. probably in annoyance that it was no fun he couldn’t open his loud trashmouth. “just y/n being y/n. what do you think about that eds?” he smirked.

“i think y/n/n is perfect just the way she is.” he replied with a small smile, putting his arm around your side so you didn’t fall over into richie when bill made a turn. what the asthmatic teen didn’t catch with his hand wrapped around your side was your heart. it was beating hardly against him and you were so sure it would fall out from your chest soon. your whole body was softening at his compliment and beverly looked at you with a look that said, “you have to tell him soon”.

now it was another saturday night and the group was once again hanging out. this time at beverly’s aunt’s house. unfortunately, you were still having problems, especially at the fact you weren’t even sitting next to your favorite boy. after one and a half movies in, they voted who would go and get the group drinks. eddie was the ‘lucky’ one picked and you had enough of trying to get his attention so you offered to come with. 

knowing that you and the brunette asthmatic silently pinned over each other, the other’s quietly “ooo-ed” when he was out of range from hearing. richie apparently wanted to test your will to live when he cupped his mouth and whisper yelled on your way out of the living room. “get it y/n/n!” you flipped him the bird and somewhat regretted your choices from earlier. you expressed to tozier on the phone about how tired you were of eddie not picking up on your low-key moves.

of course, richie being a trashmouth who was never serious about anything cackled into the phone. “enough is enough. tell him tonight or else i’m going to sonia’s later on and what we’ll be doing will scare him away right to your house.” when your anxiety spiked at his somewhat recommendation, you asked for some advice on how to navigate that conversation. sadly, all of richie’s ideas were terrible and even though you didn’t admit it, he knew this as well. so, there was only one thing left to do and he dialed up beverly into the phone call. 

she tried to be helpful and it inspired you with a brilliant idea for tonight. trashmouth listened in since he was too nosey for his own good to hang up and occasionally beeped into the conversation with a quip or smartass comment. the redhead and you wanted to slap the crap out of him and he snickered when beverly told him that.

breathing a deep breath in through your nose and out, you prepared yourself for what you hoped was about to be a good outcome. you made your way into the doorway of bill’s kitchen and the plan immediately flew out of the window when you froze. it was supposed to be something simple since you had it all planned out two hours prior. sadly, now it was all instantly screwed up when you caught sight of eddie’s back.

his hand was reaching up into the cabinet for cups and what was meant to be an innocent act was anything but that. at least not at least in your dirty mind. the asthmatic’s shirt was ridding up and his golden skin was showing. he had mother-back-freaking-dimples. back dimples. if it didn’t come back one day and kill you then surly this sight would.

of course, that was the moment eddie turned around and caught you staring. “see something you like?” he mumbled with flushed cheeks. you shrugged in response, not quite knowing how to reply. instead, you walked further into the kitchen and leaned up against one of the counters a feet few away from him. 

when you passed by the wheezing kaspbrak, you put your hand out and subtly brushed your hand against the fanny pack strap that rested against his hip bone. yes, even three years later he still wore them. you had to beg him to continue wearing them when he questioned the fanny packs again a few months after it. he shivered when you walked by and didn’t complain, letting your fingers casually touch him. 

even with fabric over his skin, there was something about your small touches that made him want to melt. little did you know eddie has always watched you. whether if it was in class and you unknowingly teased him by twirled a pencil around your pointer and middle fingers, or, even something as simple to putting your hair up on a warm summer day. he always wondered how they would feel gliding through his long curly strands.

”i’ll get out the iced tea and lemonade pitchers if you pour?” you voiced but already opened the fridge by the time you got to the end of your question. you were careful not to touch his hand when he grabbed the pitcher from you and poured one cup of lemonade each for you, beverly, mike, and ben. 

you raised your brow when he kept sneaking glances at you from pouting at the fact you avoided touching his hand. you put your hands on the edge of the kitchen counter, resting them and your body against it in a casual stance. it was as if you were in control now and unbothered, brushing off the fact he was openly watching you. pushing your hips up onto the counter you tried to sit down gracefully. your ankles bopping against the cabinets as you watched him. 

his arms flexed a little when he grabbed the other glasses. he focused intently so he wouldn’t make a fool of himself by spilling one of the drinks. without realizing he was doing it, his tongue kept flicking out to lick his bottom lip. he put down the filled lemonade cups and went to grab the iced tea but lost his balance in between and almost fell over his other shoe clumsily.

the asthmatic reached out to the side to grab something to catch his fall but ended up grabbing your thigh instead accidentally. you gasped at the feeling when eddie squeezed it but his hand shot away instantly. his eyes darted to the source that steadied him and he panicked. “shoot, sorry y/n!”

a small giggle fell past your lips before you could stop it from happening and it caused him to laugh too nervously. everything started going according to plan and now was the perfect time to introduce your grand gesture. your lips turned upwards into a smirk when you grabbed his shirt so he couldn’t move. “it’s okay eds, but i may need a band-aid.”

his breath stuttered and eddie swallowed nervously glancing down at your hand that was tightly clutching his shirt. he looked back into your eyes again and moved his hand to over the fanny pack. “i didn’t mean to hurt you! did i scratch you? i’m sorry!”

you frowned a little and bit your bottom lip, jutting it out, you shrugged and hoped your voice didn’t waver. "no i'm okay. i just..." trailing off. you sighed and looked down at his stained red lips from the popsicle earlier, then back into his brown eyes again. you hoped he would remain open-minded and bared your soul to him. you relaxed your hold on his shirt and let go. 

instead, pointing at your lips and suggesting in a sweet, innocent tone. "i think i need a band-aid here.” eddie eyes widened at your request and he swallowed nervously. before he did anything in response, kaspbrak looked behind the two of you to make sure nobody was eavesdropping at the kitchen entrance and once that was confirmed, he made his move. 

he grabbed your hips again more roughly this time and pulled you closer to him. "if you insist." eddie uttered in a raspy tone before connecting his lips with yours. he swallowed your surprised gasp and melted into him. the asthmatic’s grip on your waist tightened a fraction when your hands went to grip the back of his neck. eddie finally got his wish when your fingers started tangling through his brunette hair.

it felt so nice that he moaned lightly into your mouth. nothing measured up to the effect you had on him. you took the opportunity then to slip your tongue in and taste him. eddie's instantly found yours and his teeth clashed with yours for dominance. it was sloppy and anything but under control so you decided what the hell? and scooted right into him. 

you were lined up perfectly to rub your front against his. his mouth caught your loud moan when you felt his erection. the others were only a room away and it was a turn-on that any minute they could catch the two of you.

eddie reached under your shirt slowly to make sure you were okay with it and when your hips were at the point of gyrating and feeling up his length, he took that as a reassurance. his caressing of your soft skin caused you to shiver and he smirked into your lips. you let out another small moan when he moved up further and he was throbbing at the noises of you coming undone for him.

he broke the kiss regretfully but knew he'd have to take this somewhere else if you wanted to enjoy yourselves. you watched him fix his shorts and cleared your throat. "thanks for fixing me up dr. k. you know, i've been giving you subtle hints for forever now." you smiled at him in relief that he finally knew and fixed the buttons on your shirt.

"of course, i knew y/n/n. i didn't realize you were pining over me this much." he smirked and pecked your cheek. he moved to grab the iced teas for him and stan, as well as, the cans of coke for bill and richie but you got to him first. 

you gasped and slapped his shoulder at the accusation. knowing by what just happened, he was also feeling the same way. "excuse me!" he rubbed his arm and grabbed the glasses, laughing at you when he noticed your cheeks had reddened.

rolled your eyes and grabbing the other drinks, you kissed him once more before walking back into the living room with smiles on your faces. the other’s looked at you and eddie and realized what happened with how close eddie was walking with you. richie noticed the silence and the glances at the two of you now actually glued together. with a smug grin he asked, "so y/n/n, i assume eds finally realized you were panting over him like i do with his mom?"

© babytortie on tumblr + wattpad.

[themarvel-spnmultifanwriter]

OKAY LISTEN UP. If you don't have ideas yet or just for next time:

Reddie okay? And they are hanging out in their bunker and and they would be in the hammock and they would already be together it would be just pure fluff with mom jokes cuz that's what your bubs love. They idk can go through comics together or smth just fluffy rainbow reddie

Sureee thanks for the request!

Still mad? - Reddie

Pairing: Eddie x Richie

Warnings: fluff, fight, kissing

Word Count: 958

I was in the bunker with Eddie. Stan had to help his dad with something, Mike was working, Bill was doing homework and Ben and Beverly were doing a school project together. So there was only me and Eddie. I didn't mind tho.

I loved spending time with my boyfriend. Since we started dating a few weeks ago we've been hanging out a lot alone in the bunker. Only the others from the loser club knew about our relationship and they gave us private time.

Eddie had brought some new comics which we were reading. We laid in the hammock and my head rested on Eddie's shoulder while he turned the pages. Eddie turned to page five and on the middle of the page was a fat green monster.

"Ha look it's needing a bigger underwear than your mom," I said and pointed at the monster. "But it's as slimy and stinky as her" The monster was green with slime, similar to a slug and looked disgusting.

"Can you stop it please?" Eddie asked slightly annoyed. I smirked at him. I wasn't going to stop.

"It's also as ugly as her. I'm pretty sure they'll both die virgins"

"That's not even possible. How could I live if she was a virgin?" Eddie rolled his eyes.

"Easy! She wanted to make friends with a woman who had you as new born but because of the earthquake she made while running the woman panicked and ran away. So she adopted you out of mercy" I laughed.

"Just shut up" Eddie turned back to the comic, but I ripped it out of his hands.

"Just admit it you like my jokes. They're funny, " I said and Eddie tried not to smile but I could see the corner of his mouth moving up. "It's almost as funny as watching your mom walk. Like an oversize fat penguin" I stood up and immitated Eddie's mom's walking. Eddie laughed as he sat up on the hammock.

"You're an idiot Richie"

"Yeah maybe..." I started and took Eddie's hands. "...but I'm your idiot"

I looked Eddie in the eyes. He grabbed my hands tighter and pulled me close to him. Then, he pressed his lips on mine. These soft sweet lips that are only willing to touch mine. They tasted sweet as always with a touch of peppermint.

Eddie pulled away after some time and smiled. I fixed my glasses who had moved a little throughout the kiss.

"Now give me the comic back," Eddie said and tried to reach the comic but I moved my arm so he couldn't reach it.

"Make me" I said and laughed.

"Seriously give it back Richie!" Eddie said and we began to fight a little. "Richie, you are breaking it! These cost money give it back!!"

After some time, eventually he reached the comic. He laid back on the hammock, mad, and when I wanted to lay down next to him he pushed me away.

"Oh come on Eddie," I said but he wouldn't let me sit next to him.

"I'm mad at you. Just let me finish the comic peacefully," he said and didn't pay further attention to me.

I looked around in the bunker. I was already bored and wanted Eddie to give me attention. I saw insect on the floor and picked it up with a smirk. I went over to Eddie.

"Would it cheer you up if I gave you this" I said and put the insect inside Eddie's shirt. He jumped off the hammock and started screaming.

"Pull it out! Get it out! Ahhhhh! Get this off me!!" he screamed. I couldn't help it but started laughing loud, it was hard to breath.

"You should've seen your face!" I said when Eddie pulled the insect out of his shirt.

"Are you crazy?! Do you know how many sicknesses these carry. Worse! How many Diseases!!"

"Just chill you find these on all streets. Kids play with them every day. You won't die from them"

"I don't think you can judge that!"

"I'm sorry okay" I said and wanted to hug Eddie, but pushed me away.

I figured it would be best to let him calm down for a while, even though it was hard not to annoy him in some way. After he finished the comic I asked: "Are you still mad?"

"Yes" Eddie said angry.

"It was a joke jes-"

"A joke?" Eddie jumped off the hammock and went to me. "just a joke?! These insects carry diseases! You could make me sick by that? Is that a joke to you?! How broken is your humour?! Besides, if my mom knew that we are here and that insects touched me she'd kill me! Do you even know-" Eddie said but before he could finish his sentence I grabbed his face and pressed my lips on his.

"Don't worry I'll protect you from any harm," I whispered after I pulled a few inches away, just enough speak, but yet incredible close.

Eddie looked at me for a second deciding if whether or not he should stay mad or give in and kiss me back. He chose the second option and grabbed my face too. His lips were pressed on mine and stood like this for a few seconds before we had to catch air. The kiss was more passionate and longer than any other we shared. It took away my breath for a few seconds Eddie stood there for a while and just stared at me after we had pulled away.

"I- I'm s-still mad at you"

"Shut up your not" I punched Eddie's arm before I pulled him close to me on the hammock where we cuddled for the rest of the day.

[finnickodaiir]

IT Chapter Two: A Failure.

I will be criticizing the characterizations, the plot, the horror aspects and I will be comparing the film to the 1990 miniseries and the 1986 novel.

Characterization:

Ben. While he is still similar to his book counterpart, the writing for his character in the movies could have been better, because apart from being the lovesick poet and the history buff (a role which belonged to Mike in the book and in the 1990 miniseries), he didn’t get much of a characterization beyond that. In the novel, Ben was still a curious kid, who was interested in architecture and physics, and he was still a hopeless romantic, but he was not quite the poet the movies and the fandom makes him out to be, and as he stated in the book the reason why he liked haikus is because they are “structured poetry”. He was also the one responsible for building the dam in the barrens, the silver bullets and the underground clubhouse, which, except for the latter, were all excluded from Muschietti’s films. Another important moment from the novel, which was left out of the movies, was the scene where he stood up to his Gym teacher, who was complicit in the bullying he suffered at the hands of his classmates, which could have been in the second film, instead of his flashback with Pennywise, who was disguised as Beverly, a scene which didn’t provide the viewer with any new information about the character and its sole purpose was to pay homage to the 1990 miniseries.

Beverly. The movie at its worst never gets as bad as the book did, but one would expect that two movies made in the 21st century would be more progressive than a novel written in the 1980s, while certain aspects of the character were slightly better handled in the movies, it was not as good as it could have been. In the first film, Beverly is an outcast due to false rumors of promiscuity, an odd choice, because in the novel and in the miniseries she was bullied for being poor and wearing secondhand clothes, and because classism was still an issue in 1989 (the year the first film is set), it’s still is todays, so that was an unnecessary change. As was the fact that she didn’t interact much with other Losers, aside from her love interests (Bill and Ben), but perhaps the most infuriating decision was turning her into a damsel in distress and removing her role as the sharpshooter of the group. There are still positive aspects in Ch1’s treatment of Bev, she was given a personality while her book counterpart was an incredibly flat character. In the second film the scene where she is physically assaulted by her husband is played for shock value, while in the novel Beverly left her husband severely injured and he was later killed by It, in the 2019 film this scene was never addressed in a meaningful way, so it just comes across as gratuitous violence. Perhaps the best decision the second movie made regarding Beverly’s character was replacing the one-night stand she had with Bill with just a kiss to show that those childhood feelings no longer existed.

Bill. He was much better handled in the movies, while in the book the other Losers (except for Mike and maybe Stan) idolize Bill, in the movies they don’t, which makes them equals. My only complaint would be that scene in the second movie where he tells Audra that he wishes she would be like that woman he wanted. This would have made sense if they were going to stick with book arc and have him cheat on Audra, because he was still attracted to Bev, but that didn’t happen so that scene felt out of place with the rest of the film.

Eddie. He is the case of a character who was relatively well-written in the first movie, but then suffered a complete personality change in the second film. While in the first movie Eddie was brave and kind, traits which his book counterpart has, Ch2 Eddie was mean-spirited and cowardly. Most of his arc and coding was given to Richie, because the director thought that his fear of illness and relationship with his mother was enough, but he failed to realize that his fears of illness/germs and that feeling that he’s rotten are due to his internalized homophobia. And Muschietti didn’t even do a good job at handling what remained of Eddie’s arc (his fear of illness and relationship with his mother), he played it for laughs.  He did not even let Eddie have agency over his death, in the novel he chose to sacrifice himself to save Richie and Bill. In the movie he still saves Richie from the deadlights, but he turns his back on It, giving the creature the opportunity to stab and thus losing any agency the character had over his fate in the book and the miniseries. He also butchered his death scene, which in the novel was when he finally accepted himself:

“Fading, fading back. Becoming clearer and clearer, emptying out, all of the impurities flowing out of him so he could become clear, so that the light could flow through, and if he had had time enough he could have preached on this, he could have sermonized: Not bad, he would begin. This is not bad at all. But there was something else he had to say first. “Richie,” he whispered. “What?” Richie was down on his hands and knees, staring at him desperately. “Don’t call me Eds,” he said, and smiled. He raised his left hand slowly and touched Richie’s cheek. Richie was crying. “You know I … I …” Eddie closed his eyes, thinking how to finish, and while he was still thinking it over he died.” (Stephen King, IT pp. 1086-7)

 And Muschietti replaced that with a scene that made Eddie’s death all about Richie’s grief and changed his last words to “I fucked your mom”. All the emotional impact his death had has been completely lost.

Mike. No doubt he was the character who got the worst treatment in both movies. In the first movie, he was barely given any screen time, his role as the history buff in the group was given to Ben and they killed off his parents. In the second film, they didn’t even give him his a proper place to live in, he was just leaving in an attic, they had him steal artifacts from Native Americans (I’ll discuss that later), drug one of his friends, lie about the Ritual of Chüd being effective and he was the only Loser who didn’t even get a flashback of their own. While in the book, he was the historian, had the best parents and was one of the most important Losers. The only positive change that Muschietti made was having Mike go down to the sewers with the group for the final battle.

Richie. Even though he was played by Bill Hader, he wasn’t given the opportunity to be funny, apart from 1 impression, which was improvised. Also they removed his struggles with his sexuality in the first film, which was poorly retconned in the second film, his own bi-coding in the book was ignored and replaced with Eddie’s gay-coding (whose sexuality was left ambiguous at best), had him try to run away every 5 seconds (which something he never did in the book, he is one of the most loyal Losers), made his parents negligent just to add more unnecessary angst, because Muschietti thinks trauma = nuance. And just flattened an interesting character and took away any charm he had in the book, miniseries and Ch1.

Stan. While he was still the least developed Loser in the book, we never even get his POV, he had more character traits than just “the kid who gets annoyed easily”. In the book he was an eccentric kid with an equally eccentric sense of humor, had an interest in ornithology (completely left out apart from that puzzle), a good relationship with his parents who encouraged their son’s hobbies and weren’t as orthodox as the movies portray them. They replaced his encounter with the dead boys in the Standpipe for a painting (apparently that was Andy projecting himself onto Stan), which makes no sense because the dead kids offended him and Stan is a logical person, he would not have been scared of a painting. And they romanticized his suicide, framing it was an act of heroism, which sends the wrong message about suicide and is inaccurate, because the reason why the Losers were able to fight It is because there were seven of them, It was even scared of them. So, saying that his death was necessary to keep the Losers united just misses the point.

Issues with the Plot:

Raising the stakes to be more dramatic ended up hurting the story, while in the book the Losers’ decision to stay and fight It was one of selflessness, they decided keep a promise they made when they were eleven years old, in the second movie if they didn’t destroy It, they would end up dying, so this decision became one of self-preservation.

In the movie if they didn’t kill It, they would end up dying. This damaged the plot and eliminated the feeling of friendship, in this movie the Losers barely felt like old friends and more like co-workers. Another odd choice  was to include the Ritual of Chüd, turn into a Native American ritual and portray them in a stereotypical way and it was also unnecessary to include that, because the ritual doesn’t work, so the viewer just wasted an hour watching the Losers looking for their tokens and in the end It was killed by the power of bullying. Another flaw of Chapter Two is its runtime, the movie is almost three hours along, most of the flashbacks were unnecessary and its structure is rather disjointed.

The film also fails to address important scenes in a meaningful way, while in the book the murder of Adrian Mellon was based on a real event and was included to condemn this action, the film never addressed it (it wasn’t even mentioned afterwards), instead it was played for shock value. Probably because the actual scares of this were not effective at all, instead of relying on practical effect and trying to create tension, the filmmakers decided to use CGI for all these scenes. It would have been wiser if they had only used it in essential moments, for example, when It turned into a giant spider. In an attempt to avoid the criticism the 1990 miniseries faced for keeping the spider while also trying to stay faithful to the source material, they decided to create a ridiculous hybrid, a giant clown with spider legs, whose death was caused by the power of bullying. Ironic for a movie which was supposed to condemn such a thing. What the viewer was left with was a dull, unimpressive, charmless movie, filled with problems  caused by the director’s failure to understand the source material and the characters.

[lethimrunsonia]

I was tagged by @blueeyedrichie and @ull-float-too thank you all so much! <3333 I love you both!

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line. Then tag some of your favourite authors

all of these except like one or two are rated explicit btw, These are in tandem with @kitchen-witch-bitch and I gave up and didn’t do 20 LMAO I did 11 and got bored I’m sorry

Reddie First Time/ Part of AU / reddie

Richie pulled the moving van full of not only his and Eddie's things, but also Ben and Bev's, into the parking spot of a moderately nice hotel in Boston. It was cold, and even with the heater on, Richie was shivering a bit. Eddie let out a tiny snore and Richie melted, staring at his boyfriend's eyelashes and dimples. They were halfway to New York City, halfway to a new life where they'd never have to hide again.

untitled/ Part of AU / bevchie

Richie definitely had a Bev meter, and it had many gadgets and charts, so he knew what Bev needed when she needed it.

She had been snippy with everyone, and Eddie had offered that everyone should just leave her be. Maybe if she has said she needed to be alone, he’d agree. But Bev had instead just been atrociously grumpy.

untitled/ Part of AU / Reddbrough (Richie/Eddie/Bill)

“You little brat,” Eddie shouted, skidding across the wooden floor and dashing after Bill, who, Richie thought morosely, was doomed because Eddie was muscular and still liked to run and Bill liked to punch the punching bag in the garage. He lazily followed his boys into their room where Bill was on one side of the mattress, and Eddie cornered him on the other. “You little shit, I’m gonna—“ 

“What, tickle me? Kiss me?” Bill shouted, obviously delighted and jumpy. 

untitled/ Part of AU / stenbrough

Bill didn't bother with bringing in his suitcases--the bags from his two week trip could wait until he wasn't so tired he was ready to fall over, or so hungry his tummy was growling like a fucking bear. He grabbed his backpack (couldn't just leave his laptop in the car, could he?) and took the steps two at a time until he was inside, shoving his backpack in his cubby and making a beeline for Stan.

Warmth / Part of AU / steddie

Eddie couldn't believe his luck. He was home at the same time Stan was, at a decent hour, when they were both wide awake and happy. They'd spent the evening together making dinner and desserts (Eddie may or may not have gotten flour on Stan's nose on purpose, but come on, Stan was just so precious and Eddie wanted to see it, okay?) and now they were settled on the couch, with Eddie curled up on Stan's lap as they watched cute animal videos on the discovery channel.

untitled / Part of AU / trashstack

Ben was normally very good at waiting for opportunities to strike and then seizing them. Rarely did he force situations to occur. But he had a mighty need. He was about to force a...situation. Ben knew that the first thing Richie would want to do when he got home from his meeting was plop into bed, and Ben, he guessed, would allow that. But it would be his bed. Stan had been more than willing to spend the night with Bill and Eddie, who had been delighted to welcome him into their giant bed that Ben was only slightly jealous of. 

untitled / Part of AU / kaspbrough

Eddie stared at question 47 until he was sure there was a mistake because the answer he was supposed to get for this math homework was just...not happening. He heard Bill rustle around the doorway, and when Eddie perked up and looked at him, he saw him get shy and start to shift away. “Oh, don’t go, pretty Billy.” He cooed after him, pushing his chair back roughly, only vaguely wincing at the screech of the wood. “You came to visit me? Say hello?”

untitled fic / Part of AU / stanscom

He had no idea what time it was when he started to pull out another big sheet of paper for a new project because, well, he was on a roll, may as well. A gentle throat clearing startled him, causing him to spin around from his spot at his and Stan’s shared desk that sat in front of the window in their room. 

"Oh, hey baby," he said, giving Stan a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I didn't know you were home. Come here?"

Stan’s eyebrow raised towards the ceiling. “Hey baby, you missed dinner,” he said, looking partially worried and partly soft. “Finally felt a little better, birdie?” He glanced at the paper in his boyfriend’s hands and clicked his tongue in disagreement. “Honey...you’ve done more than enough today,” he tried coming up to Ben and saddling up next to him. 

untitled / Part of AU/ stozier

Stan stomped up the stairs and down the hallway, about ready to either jump Richie's bones or throttle him for introducing Bill to this, without telling Stan he wanted it. He threw open Richie's door and slammed it shut behind him, locking it before turning around and crossing his arms.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Were the first words out of Stan's mouth, quickly followed by, "Bill told me! Bill! And you didn't!"

untitled / Part of AU / hanbrough

Bill wandered into the living room, rubbing at his eyes. He had been in front of the computer for hours, and when he was finally so hungry he could no longer stand it, he decided to hunt for something to eat. He waved at Mike and was going to go into the kitchen, but something stopped him. Mike didn't look okay. Bill frowned and changed direction, padding over to Mike and plopping into his lap. "What's the matter, Mikey?"

Six Different Ways / complete / Poly!Losers

Queen Bee: Hi loves

Queen Bee: I'm most definitely not ordering hair dye online to quarantine dye my hair

Queen Bee: January Embers? Yall ain't met her

untitled / Part of AU / Marshalon (Mike and Bev)

Beverly, as it turned out, really liked topping. And Eddie had told her something very interesting after she pegged him for the first time--dropped a hint that Mike might like this, too. 

So when Mike came home with a look on his face that very obviously gave away the bad day he had, she decided now was as good a time as any. 

"Hey, baby." She said softly as he plopped onto the couch next to her. She moved so she was in his lap, straddling him. "You okay?" She asked, giving him a sweet kiss hello.

i’ll tag:  anyone else feel free to do this and say i tagged you!!! <3

[halfwayinlight]

Title: Stay A Little Longer Part 1/2 Fandom Star Trek TNG Rating: PG Pairing:  Will Riker/Deanna Troi Notes:  follow up to Star Trek TNG season 6 episode Frame of Mind, aftermath of Will’s ordeal. Gratuitous hurt/comfort fic for @cleverdistraction I think it will be a 2 parter

Deanna knew that he wasn’t cleared to return to work, yet. She was sure he hadn’t even finished half of his report. Might not have even begun it. Will certainly hadn’t been cleared by his psych evaluation because she was the person who had to do that. But she was surprised to find that he was still in sickbay.

She hated sickbay. It was one of her very least favorite places to be because emotions were always heightened. Raw. And she could sense the anxiety and a deep, underlying exhaustion emanating from Will Riker before she even stepped out of the turbo lift. She used the corridor to plex and made a more conscious effort to shield herself from the spike of distress.

Walking into an ICU that was empty except for one ensign checking the bio beds was a relief. She hadn’t expected to see Will there, but it was still a relief to have as few crew and no injured or sick patients. But she could still sense that his distress was not easing any time soon. Deanna winced at the flare of emotion and paused.

She’d intended to speak to Beverly first, but her concern and the immediacy of it drew her to the private room. “Will?” she asked, pressing the quiet chime so she didn’t take him by surprise. But when there was no answer, she entered.

The Enterprise’s First Officer was sitting on the floor, his back against the bulkhead, knees bent and feet on the floor.  His hair was a mess, and the dark circles under his eyes were only darker. His hand rubbed over his beard, and he gave a sigh. “Sorry,” he mumbled, head falling back to rest against the wall behind him.

“May I sit with you?” she asked, wanting to move immediately to him but recognizing the signs of post-traumatic stress. So she chose to stand where she was, angled slightly in an automatic positioning that gave her access to the door but also to step aside in case the person she was working with became volatile.

“Yeah,” he rasped, rubbing his eyes and sighing.

Deanna moved slowly across the small room and eased herself down, leaving a foot between them so as not to crowd him. “Will,” she stared quietly, “Can you tell me about how you’re doing?”

He stretched his legs out, grimacing a little, which told her that he had been sitting with his legs tucked in for too long. “I’d really like to sleep,” came his quiet reply, suddenly preoccupied with the floor and his fingers toying with the edge of a non-descript top that sickbay kept on hand.

Despite all her training, she still had to fight the urge not to rush to ask the next question. Deanna let the quiet linger and took a moment to focus on her own breathing to retain the calm in the room. “I’m sure it would help you feel better.”

He nodded and started to say something but close his mouth and swallowed. “I know I give you hell about it, but who can relax here?”

It wasn’t, exactly, a rhetorical question. Sickbay was not designed to be relaxing. Generally if crew were here, it was serious. The very rumpled bed told her that very little, if any, sleep had happened last night. The blanket was a crumpled pile at one end, and the pillow had clearly been through it.  He needed sleep. Desperately. And the plate at the small table was barely touched, telling her that he hadn’t had much of an appetite this morning, either. “Did Beverly tell you how long you need to stay?”

A shrug was his reply. “She wanted to monitor me tonight. Her shift hasn’t started, yet.”

Deanna took in this news. She had hurried down to sickbay this morning, and alpha shift wasn’t quite beginning. “I know you’re very tired, but can you tell me about last night?”

He shifted slightly and peered down at her before taking a few breaths. “I tore down the set last night. The play was over… it needed to come down anyway. It… it felt good.” He rolled his shoulders, and it didn’t escape Deanna’s notice that his right foot was suddenly restless, despite Will’s attempts to keep his hands still by clasping them together. “Beverly stayed and helped me drag some of it to the reclaimator.  And then she said she wanted me to go back here for observation. It… seemed like a good idea at the time.”

She wanted to turn to face him more directly, but vast experience with Will had taught her that he was more relaxed when they sat side by side. “Now—”

“But—” he had paused long enough that she didn’t think he was going to continue. But now they were talking at the same time.

Go on, she nudged gently.

Will sighed and shrugged, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t really remember what I was going to say.”

“You said it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“They ran scans, everything seems normal… But it doesn’t always feel real. Everything felt real. I told you about that… And I felt too restless to sleep much. I’d say it’s stupid, but I know you’d say—”

“Your feelings aren’t stupid, they’re real,” she said quietly in unison with him. Deanna offered a small, affectionate smile. “Will, I don’t think staying here is helping you.”

“I agree with the counselor.” They both blinked up in surprise to see Dr. Beverly Crusher standing in the doorway. She moved into the small room and perched on the abandoned bed. “And I should’ve realized that last night, Will. I’m sorry.”

He tried to shrug it off with a chuckle, but the smile and laugh weren’t there. “So I’m getting evicted.”

“I’m releasing you into Deanna’s care,” Beverly clarified. “I want to give you a boost first, and either  of you should call me if anything comes up. But given what you went through, I think this room is too clinical for you to rest.”

Deanna stood and offered her hand to him. “Please, Will.” It took all her energy to project the warmth and comfort. She moved forward slowly, giving him time to be aware of her movements until fingers brushed through his thick but soft locks of hair. Fingers soothed and stroked, and she cupped his cheek. Imzadi? Can you trust me? She implored.

He finally gave a nod, then took the hand in his. Although she pulled lightly, it was mostly Will who pushed himself up and straightened, taking a moment to get his bearings and balance. Deanna led him to the bed to sit long enough for Beverly to give him a hypo and orders to get eat, to rest, and to let her know if she needed to make a house call. Her eyes met Deanna’s for a long moment, enough to impress the point even if they didn’t communicate telepathically.

And then Deanna was urging him up again. Her hand wrapped around his arm like it often did when she sought him at receptions and other formal events. They had lived this walk way too many times to count. One leading the other out of sickbay. It didn’t even garner attention from the rest of the medical staff, who were busy with reports and labs. Deanna was grateful for the very normal day going on around them.

Good. The more normalcy that they could have, the better for both her and for Will. It wasn’t a magical solution, but as they gained the turbo lift, Deanna could feel the edge of his anxiety easing a bit more. “Deck nine,” she called as the doors slid shut, giving them privacy. Her hand slid to his, the other hand coming to meet it and giving it a gentle pulse as she leaned against him, offering her physical presence. When they finally gained their deck, it was empty, so Deanna laced her fingers through his and led him down the corridor.

She’d considered for long moments which cabin to go to—hers or his. They were nearly identical. They were equally comfortable with either. But she settled on his and continued on until reaching his door. His fingers twitched slightly, subconsciously tightening his hold on her hand. She made a mental note as the door slid shut. Home again.

Turning slightly to face him, Deanna gave him several long moments to absorb the familiar surroundings. From the little bit he had shared, it didn’t seem like this room had factored into his experience. But the intense emotion left her as breathless as he was for long moments. “C’mere,” she coaxed, guiding him as the first cry broke out. I’m right here with you, she sent him.

She took a seat on the sofa and used one hand on his arm to guide him down. “Let it out, Will,” she encouraged, knowing he needed the release. He was being swept away in the immediacy of the emotions and didn’t really seem to notice much more as she eased his head into his lap. Her left hand stroked through his hair, right arm wrapping around his chest and giving as much pressure as she could in hopes of grounding him to the moment.

The ache was intense, and Deanna knew she would be spending some time mediating later to let go of the residual emotions pouring out of him. But for now, she was simply here and present with him. “You’re here with me. We’re on the Enterprise. And you’re safe,” she murmured, offering soft but steady reassurances.

Minutes ticked by, and Will’s emotions ebbed and he shuddered before going lax and letting both the sofa and Deanna support his weight. “That was awful,” he breathed against her thigh.

“I know,” she agreed, rubbing his upper arm for a long moment before gently wiping moisture from his cheeks. “I know,” Deanna echoed again, “Don’t you dare apologize for that. You’ve been through a very difficult and traumatic experience.”  Her hands continued to move and offer soft words, her mind pressing gently at his. She was pleased when he gave a soft sound of contentment and opened a bit to her thoughts against his.

Deanna took her time thinking back through calmer times between them. Walks in the gardens at Betazed. Late night conversations in their own quarters. Drinks in Ten Forward. Dances shared. Dinners. Desserts. Late night walks on the decks. The warmest moments between them.

“In a little bit,” she said quietly, “you’ll need to drink something. Beverly will have my head if I let you get dehydrated. And maybe you’ll feel like eating something.” She could sense the weariness and exhaustion starting to tip toward something that might be sleepiness but there was a hesitation to it as well. “What’s stopping you from letting yourself fall asleep?”

He was still, enough that if she didn’t know him so well, she might have thought he was asleep. “The thought I might open up my eyes and be somewhere else again when I open them,” came his hollow reply, words a little muddled with congestion from his crying session. “I know it’s not sustainable for an officer.”

“For a person,” she countered.

“Want to stay here right now,” he breathed. His eyes, red and swollen from tears, slipped shut, and his breath hitched for a moment before evening out a bit more. Could you stay a little longer?

“I’ll be here,” she assured, hand flattening against his shoulders and rubbing in slow circles. “I’m staying with you.” She leaned down and pressed a warm kiss into his hair, continuing to offer soothing touches even as her own eyes slid shut, and she let herself drop into meditation as Will’s body gave way to the last of his tension, and she sensed his mind drift into slumber.

[deepslateemeraldore]

Peach (one shot)

Reddie

Inspired by “Peach” by The Front Bottoms and that one textpost that said “when someone writes Reddie shotgunning they’re not the only ones getting high” or something like that

3.4k words

E / fluff / drug and alcohol use (weed)

It’s the end of everyone’s first semester of college, and the Loser’s congregate at Mike’s to celebrate.

 It was common for Eddie Kaspbrak to fall asleep on his friends shoulders during long car rides. And with his head on someone’s lap, legs sprawled out on a loser’s couch. And, on rare occasions, cuddled up to Richie in his bed after a long night. He’d wake up to tangled limbs and Richie’s warm breath tickling the back of his neck, an arm draped lazily around Eddie’s mid section. And if he were to be completely honest, Eddie was the happiest to feel the warmth radiating off of his best friend upon waking up.

 On this particular night, the two boys had been at the Hanlon residence, partying with their friends to celebrate the end of their collective first semester of college (they had all decided to get general ed out of the way at Bangor CC, not ready to move away from their hometown just yet). Beverly and Bill supplied alcohol, Stan and Mike prepared dinner and snacks, and Ben, Richie, and Eddie himself were in charge of baking and dressing a cake for the celebration (Ben and Richie were great at eating baked goods, but needed Eddie’s guidance and direction for creating something edible). The night pulled on like any other of their parties, full of shrill shrieks and laughter, the sounds only amplifying with the added effects of rum and beer.

 By ten PM, Ben had fallen asleep at the kitchen table, moments after the cake had been cut and served with seconds and thirds. Bill, Stan and Mike helped Ben to Mike’s room to sleep off the IPA’s Bill supplied (he’d only had four, but he was always a lightweight). Eddie poked at the crumbs of remaining cake on his and Richie’s shared plate.

 “I tried to tell him to take it easy tonight,” Bev began to speak, eyes following Stan keeping Ben balanced out of the kitchen.

 “But the boy just wants to party hard.” She smiled, turning her attention to Eddie. 

 “The cake was amazing, by the way. I’ve never had a peach pound cake,” Eddie blushed, dropping his fork on the plate. “I could eat that for the rest of my life.”

 “Hey, I made the cake, too!” Richie chimed in, feigning hurt that Bev ignored his help in the production. Eddie gave him a poke in the ribs with his elbow, Bev chuckling at the interaction.

 “Thank you, Bev. I can give you the recipe if you’d like. I made a few tweaks, but I can write those down, too.” Eddie smiled at Bev, pushing his chair back to stand up in search of a pen and paper. Richie followed suit behind him, the chairs legs scraping on the linoleum.

 “Speaking of peaches,” Richie pointed to Eddie’s ass, smirking, earning a cheap snort from Bev. “This plum’s gonna have a smoke.” He announced, walking out of the kitchen and into the living room.

 “If anyone cares to join their dear friend, I’ll be in the back.” Mike reappeared with Bill hot on his heels. Bev stood up to follow the boys, nudging Eddie as she passed behind him as a way of saying “join us”. He finished scribbling ingredients down and grabbed a bottle of water before rejoining with his friends outside.

 The aroma of shitty weed made Eddie scrunch up his nose upon first contact, his lungs feeling a little heavy, too. He watch Bev hand Bill a lighter as he made his way over to stand next to Richie. He smiled up at his best friend, earning a smile and a wink back in return. Eddie was grateful that the backyard was dark and wouldn’t expose his flushed face and ears. He heard the click of the lighter and watched Bill take a long hit from the joint in between his lips. Bill smiled as he exhaled, passing it to Mike. Then Mike to Bev, then Stan came outside to join them and took two hits before passing it to Richie. Feeling like time was going by oddly fast, Eddie took a step back, watching as Richie held the blunt between his long, nimble fingers, taking the longest drag yet. However, as soon as Richie pulled it away from his lips, Eddie felt everything go in slow motion.

 The cloud of smoke coming out from Richie’s nose, only to be sucked back in through pursed lips shouldn’t have made him appear more attractive to Eddie, but somehow it did. Butterflies wrestled through Eddie’s stomach and up to his chest, swarming around his heart before settling in his throat.

 “Is today the day, Ed’s?” Richie asked, holding the damn thing out to Eddie. He shook his head and pushed it back towards Richie.

 “Sorry, I don’t want your cooties.” Richie snorted at Eddie’s retort, passing it back to Bev. She took one last hit, motioning to Bill to come over to her. He obliged, and Eddie tried to look away as he parted his lips, close enougb to kiss Bev, as she blew the smoke into his mouth. The interaction made Eddie feel anxious but curious, having seen them do this a million times but still coming as a shock every time.

 The night had winded down from there. Bill fell asleep on Mike’s couch as soon as his high kicked in, which was Mike’s cue to call it a night. Stan stayed up a while longer, chatting with Bev and Eddie (and ignoring Richie, who kept trying to get Stan to moon Ben and Mike, who were both asleep in Mike’s room, for a keepsake photo opportunity), before falling asleep himself on the couch next to Bill.

 “Ready to make like a banana and split, my dear friend?” Richie asked Eddie as soon as Bev had joined Stan and Bill to make a trio of couch sleepers. Eddie had started to yawn, and nodded to Richie who was shaking Bill awake to let him know they were heading out. Bill planted a kiss on Richie’s cheek before erupting infinity quite giggles. He waved as they left the front door of the Hanlon residence.

 Eddie wasn’t even close to being tipsy, a stark contrast to Richie who was crossfaded and giggly, and took on the role of navigator for their walk home. Eddie walked behind Richie, watching from the sidewalk as his friend tried and failed to walk a straight line in the gutter. The back of Richie’s head was bobbing up and down with his steps, curls bouncing with his body. It amazed Eddie that he hadn’t fallen down yet. He smiled as Richie tried to walk the line again, feeling grounded and warm that they got to share these moments together.

 The walk wasn’t particularly long or far, but Eddie had lead them on the scenic route, trying to milk the amount of time he could have with Richie before they’d pass out from exhaustion. He was back to feeling like time was passing too quickly, although this time was due to being deep in thought about how much he cared about Richie, how much he loved him in every sense of the word.

 The butterflies in his chest were gone, now replaced with angry wasps making a nest in his heart. He thought about college, how he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to try and attend a university because community college was pretty decent. But the loudest thought (pun intended) bubbling in his brain was that maybe he did want to get high tonight, and maybe he did want Richie’s cooties. But he also didn’t want to say this to Richie and make him think that Eddie only felt this way because of their friendship, that his feelings were a buffer to hold him over until he met someone who deserved him. Before he could expand the idea mentally, Richie spoke up, breaking Eddie’s train of thought.

 “Hey, Ed’s,” Richie pulled Eddie’s sleeve, turning to face the smaller boy.

 “Are you scared of vampires?” Richie asked, his tone so serious that Eddie couldn’t help but laugh. He kept walking, but Richie, anchored in the asphalt, held him back.

 “I’m serious, are you?” He asked again, Eddie’s expression dropping from content to cross.

 “No, Rich. I’m not scared of vampires. Why are you even thinking of th- OUCH!” Eddie cried out, confused because Richie had just lunged at him, sinking his teeth into Eddie’s neck. “What the fuck, Richie?!” Eddie shoved Richie’s hold on his arm off, staring at him in a jaded disbelief.

 “You said you weren’t scared of vampires, and I may be a lil drunk, but I wanned to see if you were scared of me ’cause I’m a vampire now.” Richie’s words were slightly slurred, and his logic was flawed, but Eddie could see something in Richie’s eyes, an emotion that he couldn’t make out. They seemed to say “don’t be mad at me”, with a hint of “I need you to give me attention”, which in turn kick started the anxious feeling inside Eddie once again.

 “Oh shit, you’re bleeding, oh shit,” Richie launched back at his friend, gently pressing two fingers to the small pool of blood above Eddie’s collarbone.

 “WHAT?!?” Eddie panicked, pushing Richie away again, feeling his neck for himself to discover the tiniest wet spot. There couldn’t have been more than a pinhead of blood actually coming from the world's smallest cut. Relieved that he wasn’t bleeding bleeding, he picked up his pace, walking with a little more urgency, Richie following.

 “I’m sorry, Ed’s. I’m really sorry, I was just trying to be funny,” Richie apologized from behind Eddie. Normally, when apologizing for “being funny”, Richie was not truly sorry. But his tone this time around sounded sincere. If Eddie could compare it to anything, it would be the tone a guilty dog would use if he could apologize to his owners for knocking over the fish tank if said dog could talk. It made his stomach tighten up.

 “Rich, it’s okay. It’s a tiny cut, and I’m not really bleeding at all.” Eddie tried to sound soft, to show that he wasn’t angry, but his words came out more sad than anything. “I’m not mad at you, I think I’m just kind of… in shock, I guess, that you did that.” He sounded even more uncertain. He reached out to touch Richie’s shoulder as an act of forgiveness.

 “Once I get it cleaned up I’ll be fine. I promise.” His smile matched his eyes, and Richie lit up a bit. Eddie beamed, earning a giggle from his friend, and in that moment Richie looked absolutely angelic to him. The street light illuminated the taller boys face, highlighting every imperfection that Eddie secretly loved looking at, and bringing a sparkle to Richie’s eyes. Eddie looked away when he felt blood rush to his cheeks, guiding them up the block silently.

 Originally, Richie had planned on staying at Mike’s with the rest of the guys, but changed his mind after hearing Eddie mention that his mother didn’t want him to sleep over if there were going to be girls at the party. Somehow, he had convinced Eddie to come and stay at his house because there wouldn’t be girls and Sonia somehow agreed. It wasn’t until the two had made it to Richie’s house that it came up.

 “I just realized, you could’ve lied all along and said that you were gonna stay at my place from the beginning. She’d be none the wiser.” Richie whispered as the two of them made their way up to his room. His parents were in bed and the lights were off. Eddie followed him up the stairs, not speaking until they were in his room.

 “I guess.” Came Eddie’s response, quiet and soft.

 “Here, let me get an alcohol wipe or something to clean your neck with.” Richie rushed to get the words out. Not waiting for a response from Eddie, he turned on his heel, back out the door and into the bathroom. Eddie had left an emergency first aid kit under the sink years ago, insisting that it was for Richie’s own good, that he’d be prepared if he fell off his bike.

 Richie flipped the light switch on, glancing at himself in the mirror above the sink, taking in his appearance. Bags under his eyes, shaggy unkempt hair with a touch of fizz. He looked haggard from partying. He shook his head and opened the cabinet to get the first aid kit concluding that it didn’t matter if he looked like shit because Eddie was there to sleep, like he had time and time again in the past. This was no different. He flipped the light off before rounding the door and practically sprinting back to his room.

 Eddie was standing in the same spot, still as a statue. Richie cleared his throat before closing the bedroom door behind him. Eddie jumped, startled, turning to face Richie.

 “Rich, it’s fine. It doesn’t hurt, it stopped bleeding forever ago.” Eddie reached for the first aid kid despite his words. Richie opened it himself, grabbing an alcohol wipe and packet of hydrocortisone, holding them between his teeth as he set the small box down on his bedside table, out of the way.

 “C’mon. I got it, it’s fine.” Eddie nodded at his friend, stepping closer to him, hoping that Richie wouldn’t notice his rapid heartbeat and breathing pattern.

 Richie took the packages out from his teeth. Opening the wipe first, he lightly tugged Eddie closer to him, giving it a quick rub (a wince from Eddie at how cold the cloth felt on his skin) before doing the same with the cortisone. He swallowed hard, as did Eddie as he pulled his hand away from his neck, dropping the packets into a trashcan opposite his nightstand.

 “All better.” Richie’s voice cracked. “Doctor Tozier completes another successful surgery!” His voice doesn’t recover, shame tugging at his tongue. Eddie cracked a toothless smile, more present in his eyes than lips.

 “Thank you.” Eddie took a step back, cold air rushing around Richie as he moved. His voice was soft and silky and continued to ring in Richie’s ears as he walked to the far end of the room.

 It made Richie’s stomach do weird things, his voice. The voice Eddie used when it was just the two of them wasn’t something new, he’d been using it forever. And it had tied Richie’s stomach in knots just as long.

 Richie changed into pajamas after taking everything out of his pants pockets, back to Eddie as he did the same. They’d sit in Richie’s bed and talk about random shit, classes and stupid people they’ve met. It was routine. It all was, down to them laying down next to each other, back to back, waiting for alcohol tainted sleep to take over. He’d fall asleep after Eddie, feeling safe only when soft snores and deep breaths were the only sounds he could hear. He prides himself on this routine, keeping him safe from doing anything regrettable. They’d been in this situation time and time before, and every morning they’d wake up the same. Richie was on the brink of sleep when he felt Eddie roll over to face him. This isn’t routine.

 “Rich, are you still awake?” Eddie’s voice was like silk, a little deeper than usual. Richie’s eyes shot open, while the rest of his body was frozen.

 “I… I think I did want tonight to be the night.” Eddie whispered, lack of context making Richie shoot up.

 “W-what?!” Was all he could muster out, blood rushing from his hands and legs, going tingly.

 “The night I got high for the first time.” Eddie was even quieter, and Richie slid back down onto his pillows in relief (it was secretly disappointment). Ah.

 “Oh. Okay.” Richie responded, a pregnant pause causing his nerves to act up again. He tried to level out his breathing as sly as possible.

 “Richie,” Eddie spoke, breaking the silence. He shifted his position, leaning on his left arm and looking into Richie’s eyes. “Will you get me high?” The question sent shivers down Richie’s spine, and he couldn’t sit up fast enough (whether it be fear or excitement he couldn’t tell).

 “How do you want to do this?” Richie croaked out, voice rough with sleep he hadn’t gotten. He pulled the shared blanket over his lap, bunching it up just in case his hormones betrayed him. There was another pause as Eddie thought it over.

 “Do you want a bowl? A rip from the bong? A baby joint?” Richie offered what he had to Eddie, waiting for him to make a decision.

 “Can you do what Bev did to Bill that one time?” Eddie asked meekly, his eyes traveling to a loose thread on the blanket. Richie blinked. And blinked again.

 “You… you wanna shotgun?” He asked, not quite meek but not quite hopeful. Eddie kept his gaze down, nodding.

 “Yeah, I guess. Bev said it’s not as bad.” Shyly, Eddie looked up at Richie, cheeks flushed and eyes dewy. Richie modded a few times to himself.

 “Yeah. Okay. Yeah.” Richie leaned over to his nightstand, one foot on the floor for balance, opening the drawer and pulling out his rolling tray, papers, flower, and grinder neatly sitting on top of it. He could feel Eddie watch his every move, nose scrunching up at the smell as soon as Richie opened the dimebag of pot. Mindlessly, he put a little in the grinder, getting a paper when he was ready, and rolled (in Eddie’s mind) a perfect joint. He put everything back in its place on the tray before putting it back in the drawer, pulling out a lighter and old dirty ashtray. He looked at Eddie again, catching his eyes to ask “are you sure?”. Eddie nodded, and watched as Richie lit up with shaky hands taking the first hit for himself.

 Eddie watched patiently as Richie inhaled deeply, shifting himself to lean against the backboard before exhaling, smoke drifting out his nose up into the room. He held the joint over the ashtray on his nightstand, ashing it. Eddie watched Richie’s Adam's Apple bob and he pulled the joint back to his lips, before inhaling whispering:

 “Come here.”

 Eddie scooted closer to Richie, heart racing not only because Eddie Kaspbrak was about do a drug (besides that placebo shit his mother had forced on him since his youth), but because he was going to have his lips mere millimeters away from Richie Tozier’s.

 Richie took a long drag, holding the joint in between the fingers of his left hand, his right reaching to cup Eddie’s cheek. He rubbed Eddie’s bottom lip with his thumb and leaned in, blowing the smoke between Eddie’s partially opened lips. If I lean any closer, I’d be kissing him, Richie thought.

 And as if Eddie was some sort of fucking mind reader, he leaned into Richie’s lips, kissing him. It felt natural, like he was meant to. He wrapped one arm around Richie’s neck, the other feeling around and grabbing hold in his hair. He could feel Richie smile into the kiss as he leaned over to put the joint out in the ashtray, pulling Eddie down with him, and back up. Richie pulled away for a moment smirking at Eddie.

 “You’re not supposed to blow it back into my mouth, dumbass.” Richie joked, hooking his left arm around Eddie’s waist. He smiled, Eddie smiled back, and before they could get back to their previous position, Eddie laughed.

 “Well maybe if you gave me instructions in the first place,” he started to poke, no malice behind his words. Richie laughed, leaning in to plant a kiss on his cheek, eyes heavy.

 “Honey, I’m a little stoned, I’m not trying to start an argument with you. Shut up and kiss me.”

 The next morning, Eddie woke up tangled in Richie's limbs, as he had numerous times before, but this was intentional. He felt lips on the back of his neck.

 “I’m sorry that you’re a little…uh… y'know.” Richie struggled to say bruised, but Eddie already knew, and he didn’t care. He turned over to face him, planting a lazy kiss on his best friends lips to shut him up.

 Richie rested his forehead against Eddie’s, reaching for a hand to intertwine his fingers with. Eddie opened his mouth to speak.

 “As long as it’s you, I couldn’t be happier.”

[anxiouslymalicious]

Losers Club Plus One  Part 7

A Richie x daughter!reader series.

Read the previous part here or go here for the complete series-masterlist!

A/N: So here we go! The next part is here. I really am scared of posting this, you’ll see why once you finished this chapter. This is about 4.5k words so it’s a bit longer and, as always, trigger warnings apply. 

I hope you enjoy!

Numbness took over. It was like she was in no control whatsoever over her body. Like her mind had shut off, and she had turned into a puppet, being controlled by a vicious being, not wanting any good for her.

Almost comically, she popped the balloon before throwing on a new, unbloodied and untorn jacket. She struggled to put it on over the towel slung around her arm to somewhat stop the bleeding, but it worked in the end and, finally, she left the room. The hasty movement of walking down the stairs caused a stabbing sensation in the wound, but she felt she needed to get away from the place. Away from the clown. Anywhere in that god forsaken town seemed safer than the hotel room she was attacked in twice.

A harsh wind blew in her face. The cold air of late September bit at her face but calmed her a little. The stinging felt good, almost natural and normal. This was a sensation she knew. This was something she had encountered several times before. When her father was on tour with her and they visited northern states in the autumn months, for one. Or when they packed their bags short before Christmas one year and decided to spend their holidays up in the mountains, spending their days watching Netflix with hot cocoa because they realised that it was actually fucking freezing up there.

All in all, it just felt like something that naturally occurred and happened. A wound caused by claws from a psychotic clown-being that was actually some supernatural being in a place it shouldn’t have been at really wasn’t close to being normal. And it scared her. It scared Y/N to the point where she wondered what the next day would be like. Or the day after. She wondered if she would ever fall asleep without finding the quietness suspicious. She wondered if she would ever walk down the streets at night without being scared by the rustling of leaves because it could be IT. She wondered if, once they left Derry, her life would ever go back to normal.

It wouldn’t be, she thought, not if that damn clown was right.

Slow steps took her through the streets. They were mostly empty except for the occasional family passing her, happily laughing with their children around them. Y/N could swear that she caught something of a ‘canal festival’ but decided to ignore it for now. It didn’t seem important to her situation. What was important, was finding a drug store to fix herself up a little. Maybe being in a lively place where people could be witness to whatever the clown might do. Her hand kept twitching towards the shard in her pocket. The small object made her feel a little less helpless.

“Uhm, excuse me, ma’am.” Y/N finally pressed out as she spotted a relatively young woman. Her dark hair fell over her shoulders in messy locks, her face one Y/N decided she could trust for the moment.

The woman looked up from her phone, curious as to who stopped her in her tracks.

“Do you know where the next drug store is? I’m kind of new around here.” Y/N asked, trying to smile a little to seem less tense, but the stinging of the towel loosely rubbing against the wound was getting worse and worse. It wasn’t yet unbearable, but it was beyond the point she could nor wanted to tolerate much longer.

“Oh, of course. It’s on Center Street.” The unnamed woman replied, a confused expression on both of their faces as she tried to explain the walk to Y/N. She thanked the woman before making her way through the foreign streets, a little unsure, but she didn’t have another choice. Y/N had managed to run out of mobile data just the other day, so google maps wouldn’t be of any help.

Once she had turned into different streets two or three times, the girl started to notice the streets were slowly getting crowded with people. Everything seemed a lot more alive and she felt herself relax at the sight of children as well as adults walking down the streets. From there on, it wasn’t much farther until she found herself on Center Street, drug store in sight. An involuntary smile of relief tugged on her lips as she opened the door, stepping into the kind of run-down place. A slightly musty smell filled her nose, along with the sharp smell of medical alcohol. Instead of bothering her, though, like it would under any other circumstances, she felt at peace, welcoming said smell.

Quickly, she moved around the store, looking for disinfectant and bandages. The place was a little unorganised, like it hadn’t been taken proper care of in a long time. Once she had grabbed what she needed, Y/N noticed that she had no purse with her, meaning, she didn’t have any money on her.

“Fuck.” She mumbled, examining the products in her hands.

Someone was screaming, followed by hectic stumbling before she heard a door open and saw a familiar face run through the store. All eyes were on Eddie. Y/N quickly looked around, ducked down a little, and stuffed the disinfectant, cotton pads, bandages and whatever else she needed in the pockets of her jacket and sweatshirt before getting up. She watched as Eddie struggled to open the door before he left in his still panicked state. Quickly, the young girl moved to follow him.

Her vision almost blurred with tears of pure joy as she saw Eddie’s figure mere steps away from the door.

“Uncle Eds-“ she started, pure horror marking her face. Y/N wished that Eddie hadn’t heard her, but he turned around as if she had never called him anything else. Eddie’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion and he stood still for a moment, questioning why she was here and not at the hotel. Warily, his eyes remained on the insecure girl, outweighing the possibility of her being a trick by IT, but Eddie decided that there was no way in hell IT would call him ‘Uncle Eds’ and so, he moved fast to embrace Y/N.

The second he came closer, Y/N started sobbing. She hugged the man tightly, burying her face in his jacket, letting her tears drop freely. Eddie surely wouldn’t mind. Especially not as his clothing was already dirtied with whatever the black substance on him was.

Carefully, Eddie held the girl, at first awkwardly patting her back, but finally relaxing a little himself. After that nightmare, a familiar face was very much appreciated.

“What are you doing here?” Eddie finally asked, puzzled by her presence.

“Uhm… There was… IT was in the hotel room. And it got me,” she moved her hurt arm a little, “So I went outside and got something to treat it.” Eddie’s eyes widened at that, gently shoving the girl into a lonely alley where he made her sit.

“Show me.” Eddie said, worry prominent in his voice. Y/N complied, very carefully taking off the jacket. Eddie winced a little once he saw the blood on the towel. She removed that as well and Eddie was immediately thrown back to the day when he had patched up Ben after his run in with Bowers. He smiled a little at the memory of the strange bunch.

“What did you get, Y/N?” Eddie asked, looking up at the girl’s face. Sheepishly, she pulled the few appliances out of her sweatshirt and jacket, handing them to Eddie. His eyebrows furrowed a little, deep in thought, before he got to work.

“Why don’t you have a bag for those?” he was focused on the wound, but still a little curious.

“Because we need to take care of the environment.” She replied stiffly. Eddie looked up at her again, the look on his face silently asking her if he looked that stupid. With a sigh, she tried again.

“Because they forgot to give me one. They were too busy watching you struggle with the door.” Eddie looked at her, an annoyed look on his face. Why did Tozier’s always feel the need to tease him? 

“Because I forgot to pay.” She finally admitted through gritted teeth, sugar-coating the act.

“You stole all this?!”

“Shh! We don’t want to get caught, now do we?”

“WE?! This is your doing!”

“You’re using this shit. We’re in this together now, asshat.” Y/N whisper-yelled at the older man. To Eddie, it felt almost like bickering with Richie. Just less swear words and insults thrown his way. He shook his head but chuckled a little as he got back to work on her arm.

“What?” Y/N asked, cringing visibly as Eddie disinfected the wound.

“This just reminds me of what the Losers and I once did.” Eddie replied, continuing to tell her how Ben had stumbled into them, how they had seen him all beaten-up, how they had their first actual encounter with Beverly that day, too. How Richie hadn’t let him off, not for a single second, as he tended to Ben’s wounds. Y/N smiled a little at the story, smile deepening when she saw the look on Eddie’s face as he told her about the bickering between him and Richie.

“Have you and… my father always been this close?” Y/N finally asked, thumb nervously flying up, teeth carefully digging into the nail. Eddie blushed violently at the question, not sure how to reply to it. The small man awkwardly coughed, thinking of Myra, his wife, for the first time since arriving. Were he and Richie close? Close enough for anyone to assume something would be going on between them?

“How did you… Why do you think we’re close? I mean all of us Losers are really close friends and- I mean- technically… We have all gone through trauma together. Something like that really brings you closer together.” Eddie stammered.

“Can I be honest with you?”

Eddie nodded.

“You always follow him around. You’re always standing close to him. You’re the only one who offered to walk us back to the hotel. You two mercilessly tease each other. More so than the other Losers. You both just always take that extra step, you know what I mean?” Y/N asked, looking into Eddie’s eyes. He gulped a little. A cold wind blew through the alleyway, slightly cooling Eddie’s burning cheeks. His face resembled a tomato.

Now that he thought about it, actively thought about his actions, Eddie really did notice that he was closer to Richie than the other Losers. Not because he favoured Richie, definitely not, he would have felt incredibly lost as a kid without Big Bill around to lead him. Without Stan to back up his opinions. Without Mike educating him and the others on the history of Derry, warning them about the dangers this place hid. Without Ben who stayed with Eddie as he ran out of medicine and Bill raced into town on silver to get a new inhaler. Without Bev who protected him more times than he could count. But with Richie, it had always been a little different.

Eddie remembered how often he had climbed into the hammock with Richie, openly infuriated at Richie’s disregard towards the rules, but secretly excited he got to do it again.

Eddie remembered how often he had bickered with Richie, throwing insults and swear words at each other without missing a beat, not stopping until one of the other Losers made them.

Eddie remembered how often they messed around together in the quarry, water fights, pushing each other into the water. Eddie always struggled with himself those days. The germs and potential dangers emitted from the quarry held him back. Until Richie challenged him. Until Richie pushed him in. Until Richie came and did something.

“I- uhm… I’m not sure… This is probably just one-sided. I mean according to Richie I’m probably a push-over anyway.” Eddie mumbled, hopeful that she would disagree. And she did. A shake of her head was enough to make Eddie’s heart leap out of his chest as he wrapped the bandages around the girl’s arm.

“What is this?” Y/N finally asked, catching Eddie by surprise.

“What do you mean?” Eddie asked nervously.

“You said ‘this is probably just one-sided’ so what is ‘this’?”

Eddie finished wrapping her arm up, stopping still. Well, what was it? Did he feel more for Richie? But he was married, and he was sure he loved Myra. In some way at least. He wouldn’t have married Myra if he hadn’t. Right?

Eddie couldn’t deny the way he felt. When he first saw Richie again after all these years, he felt a different spark than with the other Losers. Like a bubble of air that had been caught under the ice all winter long had finally burst through the slowly melting ice, popping at last. It was rapid, strange, unexpected yet so welcome.

But hadn’t he felt that way for Myra too some time earlier in their relationship? Eddie wasn’t sure. He really wasn’t. He couldn’t even remember if he had felt somewhat of a spark when they had met. Richie had already teased him about the resemblance between his late mother and his wife and how their marriage must have been a result of his mommy-issues. It had hit close to home when Richie uttered those words but for what reason? Because Eddie felt insulted and loved Myra? Or because Richie was spot on with his suggestions?

“I don’t know.” Eddie finally croaked out. He seemed equally, if not more disturbed than Richie had only hours earlier. “I- I think… I mean I have a wife. I’m married. I don’t think I could… Richie means a lot to me. I know that much. But I never thought about how much and in what way…” Eddie felt hot embarrassment rise in his chest. Tears filled his eyes, threatening to spill at any given moment. His lips quivered. Shame nagged on him, tearing him apart although he didn’t know why exactly.

Y/N nagged on her lower lip. She never knew how to act around Eddie. She had already had a soft spot for Eddie in her heart. He reminded her a lot of herself. Anxious but brave when need be, careful and calculating, but still very dependent on his heart. She shuffled a little closer to Eddie, carefully wrapping her arms around him.

“It’s alright to feel that way. It’s okay to be gay.” Y/N mumbled, making Eddie sob into her shoulder.

“Can I ask you something?” Eddie asked, voice strained as he muttered. Y/N simply nodded in reply.

“Do you know if Richie… If he feels… the same?” Eddie was now anxiously fiddling with his fingers, scared to hear the answer the young girl would give him.

“Well I know if he does. He just asked me not to tell anyone. You’ll have to find out yourself.” She smirked a little, winking at him and, judging by the huge grin spreading like a wildfire on Eddie’s lips, she was sure that he knew exactly what she meant.

Eddie sat up a little straighter again, wiping his eyes with a dry spot on his otherwise dirtied jacket before standing up. He had pocketed the items Y/N stole.

“Come on, let’s get back to the hotel.” He said, holding out his hand for the girl to take. She did, and was helped up rather clumsily, but she appreciated the effort. The two made their way back to the street, where Eddie stopped a taxi to take them back to the place Y/N now dreaded the most.

Y/N fidgeted in the car. Playing with the zipper on her jacket, fiddling with something on her jeans, toying with the shard she had moved from her jeans pocket to the one on her jacket, it went on and on, until she started toying with the top of her bandages that peeked out under the slightly rolled up jacket and sweatshirt sleeve. Eddie swatted her hand away and gave her a pointed look.

“What has you so wound up?” he asked, and she just shrugged in reply. Maybe, if she didn’t speak it out loud, it wouldn’t be true. Maybe that would save her dignity and whatever of her sanity she had left since arriving in the forsaken town that is Derry.

“Come on, you can talk to your uncle Eds.” He smiled at her, a teasing smile, asking her to join in on the friendly banter. She didn’t.

“I’m sorry for calling you that, Eddie.” Y/N mumbled, turning her back a little towards Eddie, looking out the window instead, watching the world pass by. The town looked so pretty, so calm and peaceful. It was incredible to Y/N that something as evil as IT could be lurking somewhere among them.

“No, no…” Eddie’s face was furrowed, fearing that he might have said something wrong, something to push the girl away from him. He wanted to protect the girl, not push her away from him. “I-I appreciated it. Please don’t feel sorry for calling me that!”

Y/N smiled a little, but remained as inexplicably cold towards Eddie as she had been since climbing into the stuffy car. The heater was at full blast, giving the car an uncomfortable heat contrast to the chilly outside. It was like Y/N had been exchanged in the few seconds Eddie hadn’t paid attention, when he had gotten into the cramped car and checked his seatbelt twice, thrice to make sure that it really would protect him.

“What’s going on, little one?” Eddie asked, met with only a shrug and a soft sigh in reply. He wiped his face with his hand, it still smelt like disinfectant that he had used on the girl (and, admittedly, a little on himself) earlier. It made him smile for a short moment, giving him some sense of safety. It wasn’t much, after all he was still covered in the black goo vomited up by the Leper IT had turned into, but it made him feel a little cleaner.

“Funny story,” Eddie started, hoping to catch the teen’s attention and take her mind off whatever was bothering her so much, “down in the basement in the drug store, I was thrown up on by IT. That’s- that’s why I’m covered in… this shit.”

An airy chuckle sounded through the car. It was huffed, barely there, but he heard it. Eddie looked at the girl, spotting the smallest trace of a smile on her lips. It was worth making a fool out of himself for.

“I was attacked by IT down there before. When we were kids. No idea why I was stupid enough to go there again.” He chuckled to himself, glancing up at the rear-view mirror where he was met with the questioning, almost disturbed look of the taxi driver. His eyes left Eddie and the man focused back on the traffic before him.

“Maybe we shouldn’t openly talk about this in front of people who aren’t involved.” Y/N whispered, a sad smile on her lips as she leaned closer to Eddie. He gulped a little, embarrassed that he forgot about that, and nodded before a chuckle burst out of his chest. He pushed the girl playfully. Y/N pushed him back.

The atmosphere in the car seemed so much brighter. The sun, although it shone weakly through the dirty windows, felt much warmer, nicer, and even the rattling heater didn’t bother her anymore. She was almost compelled to confessing to Eddie.

Fuck it, she thought.

“Eddie… Uncle Eds, before I came to the drugstore something happened.” Y/N started suddenly, her eyes trailing over his dirty face for a moment before she couldn’t bear seeing his curious eyes watching her intently anymore and looked down. Her hands kneading themselves in her lap suddenly seemed so much more interesting. The taxi driver lifted his eyes to watch them, suddenly seeming strangely curious. Eddie nervously glanced at the rear-view mirror for a minute, not sure if he wanted her to continue right there, but he really wanted to know, needed to know to help her.

“I was in the hotel room and IT was there. IT attacked me again. Hurt me. But you know about that part. What you don’t know is that IT left me a little message and- “

“We’re here.” The taxi driver rudely interrupted Y/N’s confession. Her palms were sweaty and she could still feel her heart painfully hammering in her chest. A groan escaped Eddie’s lips as he hurriedly pulled a few dollar bills out of his wallet, giving them to the driver with a muttered ‘keep the change’.

Eddie and Y/N got out of the car, standing before the hotel that was connected to so many bad memories already. Y/N sighed while pushing the doors open, Richie’s frantic, desperate voice hitting her ears immediately.

“IT took her! I know IT did!” Richie’s voice was almost booming through the lobby. Beverly had wrapped her arms around the shaking man, desperately trying to calm him down. Richie’s back was facing the door and Bev was too concerned with Richie to look up and notice the girl walking in.

“She’ll be alright, she’s a tough-“

“Y/N!” Ben exclaimed as he spotted her and Eddie in the entrance of the hotel. Richie lifted his head from its place on Bev’s shoulder, whipped around and, not wasting a second, ran to embrace the girl. His arms wrapped tightly around her shaky body, pulling her into his chest and kissing her head. To the Losers, Richie seemed to be in a frenzy, but none of them could blame him. He was left thinking that his daughter might have been taken, hurt or killed. They understood.

Y/N loosely wrapped her arms around him as a strange cocktail of emotions bubbled up in her chest.

“Where have you been?!” Richie now asked, his anger catching up with him as he looked at her. It wasn’t anger so much as worry.

“Why do you even care?” Y/N asked, trying to pull out of Richie’s iron grip.

“Why do I- fuck, you’re my daughter! Of course, I care!” Richie was puzzled at her reaction, lacking understanding for what was going on. Had he missed something? He loosened his hold on her to look at her face. Eddie had been meanwhile embraced by Ben and Bev who looked worried but kept listening in on what was going on. And the Losers were confused. Y/N and Richie seemed like they had an incredibly close relationship, none of them could understand why she was acting like that.

“Am I?!” Y/N asked, tears stinging in her eyes as she hit Richie’s chest, pushing him away from her. He stood shocked. Silence swallowed the room. No one understood.

“Am I your daughter? Your fucking flesh and blood? Because I’m pretty fucking sure that you’re not my dad. I’m pretty fucking sure I’m adopted!” she continued, breaking the thick silence weighing them down. She pushed Richie again as hot tears uncontrollably rolled down her cheeks, over her jaw, until they united just under her chin, turning into one fat tear that finally dropped onto her shirt.

Ben wanted to speak up, wanted to interfere and hold the girl in his arms, calming her down, but something stopped him.

“I- What- what makes you think that?” Richie asked, tears of his own leaving trails on his cheeks, hurt evident in his voice. He was sure he had just witnessed not only his heart, but his whole world shatter right before him.

“Wh-what happened? Y/N what happened?” he continued before the girl even so much as had a chance to explain herself. Eddie, Ben and Bev couldn’t speak. They felt as though their breath had been stolen from their lungs, their minds blank. Richie sounded just like he did when he was 13 years old. They had barely seen him cry back in the day, but if they did, it was brutal. The Losers felt their hearts break as they watched their best friend turn into his insecurity-ridden, hurt 13-year old self.

“IT came back. IT fucking attacked me and I was all alone,” she cried, taking a few steps back from the group of friends, hands balled into fists, “and IT left me a little truth. IT left me a balloon with a message on it, telling me that I’m fucking adopted. You’re nothing but a fucking liar.”

“Y/N, please. You can’t trust IT. IT lies and-“

“Oh yeah? Last time IT talked about Stanley, it was telling the truth. Before any of you fucking knew. Richie fucking lies for a living, how can I be sure he isn’t lying to me too?” Y/N interrupted Beverly and pushed past them, shaking their hands off her as the Losers tried to gently get a hold of her. None of them felt capable of moving though.

Richie felt his heart ache. He felt as though his heart had been stabbed, blood filling his lungs, killing him slowly from the inside. He didn’t know how he felt, what he felt. He felt the world crashing down on him, he felt heartbroken and scared and lost altogether, but he most importantly felt numb, overwhelmed. It was like his mind had been set to auto-pilot. 

Richie, standing a mere two or three steps away from the stairs, was the first to move, letting his body drop.

Eddie was the next one to work himself out of his stupor, rushing over to embrace Richie tightly. He felt Richie’s arms around his waist, but Richie was still too rigid to let himself fall completely.

“Is it true?” Ben asked, uncomfortable, but he managed to suppress the shakiness in his voice. Eddie pulled out of the hug a little, his arms still resting on Richie’s shoulder as Richie’s remained loosely around his waist. Eddie looked into Richie’s eyes, seeing the hurt in them, waiting for the answer. Fat tears filled Richie’s eyes as he looked at Eddie, then glancing over at Ben and Bev who had moved to sit next to the pair.

“I don’t know.” Richie whispered. “I really don’t fucking know.”

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[emo-space-tea]

Jealousy

NOT MY GIF

Chapter 3

~3rd Person POV~

The five losers got to the sewer and dropped their bikes. Well, except Stan, he put his on its kickstand.

"That's poison ivy, and that's poison ivy, and that's poison ivy." Stan said while pointing at three similar looking plants.

"Where? W..Where's the poison ivy?" Eddie asked, seeming slightly panicked.

"Nowhere! Not every fucking plant is poison ivy Stanley!" Richie exclaimed.

Bill, Richie and Ashton walked into the sewer while Eddie and Stan stayed just outside of it.

"Okay, well, I'm starting to get itchy...now, and I'm pretty sure this is not-" Eddie started until Richie cut him off.

"Do you use the same bathroom as your mother?" Richie asked.

"Sometimes, Yeah." Eddie responded honestly.

"Then you probably have crabs!" Richie said.

"That's so not funny." Eddie responded again.

Ashton and Bill had their flashlights and were searching the sewer for......well, anything really.

Richie turned around and looked at Eddie and Stan.

"Aren't you guys coming in?" Richie asked the two.

"Nu uh. It's grey water." Eddie stated while pointing at the dark water.

"What's Grey water?" Ashton asked, jumping in the conversation.

"It's basically.....piss and shit, that's all I'm telling you! You three are splashing around in....millions of gallons of 'Derry Pee'!" Eddie said, obviously worried about his health.

Richie dipped a stick he found in the water, and sniffed it.

"Jesus Rich!" Ashton exclaimed, grossed out.

"Are you serious, what are you-" Eddie was cut off again.

"Doesn't smell like caca to me senor~" Richie said in a horrible Spanish accent.

After that Eddie started ranting about infections, then Richie threw something. Ashton was paying closer attention to the real reason they were there. Then Ashton saw something in the water.

"Billy! Look." Ashton mumbled to Bill.

He picked up what she  was pointing at. It was a shoe. 

Bill turned around and shouted "Guys!". The rest of the losers quickly shut up, and stared at him. Then they noticed the shoe in his hand.

"Shit.....Don't tell me that's...." Stan said in a nervous voice.

"No." Ashton responded.

"G-G-Georgie wore galoshes." Bill continued as Richie walked up next to them.

"Who's sneaker is it?" Eddie asked quickly.

Ashton pointed the flashlight inside the shoe and Richie looked inside.

"It's Betty Ripsom's" Richie answered.

"...Shit...Oh..God..Oh Fuck!" Eddie exclaimed. "I don't like this." Eddie said.

"How do you think Betty feels....running around in these tunnels with only one freaking shoe!" Richie jokes while hopping on one foot.

"Not Now Rich." Ashton snapped, seriously.

"What if she's still here?" Stan asked, and Bill, Richie and Ashton all turned around to continue looking in the sewer.

"Eddie, come on!" Richie called out as we walked further.

"My mom will have an aneurysm, okay, if she finds out we're playing down here, I'm serious." Eddie said quickly, obviously panicking.

Bill was still looking in the sewer.

"Bill?" Eddie called out.

"If....If I was Betty Ripsom, I would want us to find her, G-G-Georgie too." Bill responded.

"What if I don't wanna find her." Eddie said. We all stared at him. "I mean, no offense Bill, but I don't wanna end up like Geo-" Eddie cut himself off to spare Bill's emotions.

 "I don't wanna go missing either" Eddie finished.

"He has a point." Stan spoke up. 

"You too, Stanny?" Ashton asked.

"It's summer, we're supposed to be having fun! This isn't fun, this is scary and disgusting." Stan said, looking down.

Suddenly, there was a splash from behind Eddie and Stan. They all went to see what it was, it was the new kid, all banged up and bleeding.

"Holy Shit, What happened to you?" Richie asked, leaving the sewer.

The new kid looked over at them, out of breath. Stan and Eddie rushed over to help him, shortly after so did Ashton.

They picked up the new kid and put him on Silver, Bill's bike, and got on their own bikes. They rushed to the Drugstore. While they were riding, Eddie kept ranting about "An AIDS epidemic" currently happening, but none of them really listened though.

They finally got there and dropped their bikes in the alleyway. Bill set the new kid down on a crate and told Richie to wait with him while they got the supplies.

The four losers rushed into the drug store. Eddie quickly grabbed what he needed, while the other 3 looked in their pockets for any money they had. The sum was $6.23.

"Can we afford all that?" Bill asked Eddie.

"That's all we got." Stan said with only a bit of cash and change in his hands.

"Are you kidding me?" Eddie asked with all the medical supplies in his small arms. He started biting with lip thinking.

"Wait, You have an account here, don't you?" Ashton asked.

"If my mom finds out I bought all this stuff for myself, I'm spending the whole rest of the weekend in the emergency room getting X-rayed." Eddie said, while shaking his head no.

A couple aisles over Beverly Marsh, the school's 'Slut', was looking at the Tampax, confused. She made up her mind and went to pay when she saw Greta Kenne walking down the aisle. She quickly went to the next one which wasn't any better.

Luckily, Ashton saw the box and quickly gestured for Beverly to hide it behind her back, and she did. The other three boys looked over and saw Beverly.

"Are you okay?" Bill asked her.

"I'm fine, what's wrong with you?" Beverly asked, seeing all the medical supplies in Eddie's arms.

"None of your business." Stan replied.

"There's a kid outside, looked like someone killed him." Eddie also responded. Ashton quickly slapped Eddie's arm, giving him a 'Really?!' look.

"We need some supplies but we don't have enough money." Ashton told Beverly.

Beverly thought for a second, before coming up with a plan and saying "I think I know what to do, but I'll need Ashton's help."

The two girls walked up the check out.

"We like your glasses, Mr. Kenne." Beverly started.

"You look just like Clark Kent." Ashton continued.

"Oh, well, I don't know about that." Mr. Kenne said while adjusting his glasses.

"Can we try them?" Beverly asked abruptly.

"Well, Sure." Mr. Kenne answered while taking off his glasses and handing them to Beverly.

Beverly put them on and looked at the pervert through her eyelashes.

"What do you think?" The redhead asked.

"Well, How bout that. You look just like Louis Lane." Mr. Kenne said while leaning in.

"Definitely." Ashton said while looking at Beverly.

Beverly then took off the glasses and handed them to Ashton. The petite girl put them on and looked at Beverly and Mr. Kenne.

"How do I look?" Ashton asked.

Little did she know that the boy with a stutter and his curly haired friend were staring at her. A light red blush grazing their cheeks.

"Perfect." Mr. Kenne said.

The small girl then took off the glasses and when handing them back to Mr. Kenne,  'accidentally' knocked over the small shelf of cigarettes behind the counter.

"Oh, I'm so sorry." Ashton apologized in a sincere voice.

"It's okay. " Mr. Kenne said while putting on his glasses and bending down to clean up the fallen shelf.

While the pervert was cleaning, Ashton and Beverly looked back to see the 3 losers rushing to leave the store with their supplies. Bill accidentally shoved Eddie causing him to trip and knock over a few items before actually leaving.

Beverly saw a pack of cigarettes on the counter and quickly grabbed them and shoved them in her pocket.

Out in the alleyway the Losers were trying to help the new kid. 

"Can you go get me something?" Eddie asked, while trying to get the wound to stop bleeding.

"Jesus, what do you need?" Richie asked.

"Go get my bifocals. I hid them in my second fanny pack." Eddie said.

"Why do you have two fanny packs?" Stan asked.

Bill walked out of the alleyway to see Beverly walking towards him, wind blowing in her hair. Bill then pulled out a dollar from his pocket and showed it to Beverly.

"T-T-Thanks." Bill said.

"Even Steven." Beverly said while pulling out her new pack of cigarettes.

The two then heard Stan freaking out and looked to see what was going on. 

"Ben from Soc?" Beverly asked herself before going in the alley way.

Eddie and Richie were arguing and Ashton was sitting on a crate. 

"Are you okay? That looks like it hurts." Beverly said while walking up to the group.

"Oh, No, I'm good. I just fell." Ben said, smiling at the redhead.

"Yeah, right into Henry Bowers!" Richie exclaimed. 

"S-S-S-Shut up R-R-Richie." Bill said.

"Why? It's the truth." Richie said back.

"You sure they got the right stuff, to fix you up?" Beverly asked while Bill stared at her.

Ashton noticed this and started feeling a pain in her chest. Ashton then got up and shoved Richie out of the way and walked to her bike.

"Where the hell are you going?" Richie asked, seeing the small girl get her bike.

"Home." Ashton answered quickly.

"But-" Stan was cut off by Ashton.

"You guys know how Alex gets!" Ashton exclaimed while glaring at the group.

She then got on her bike and started riding out of the alleyway. 

"But It's not past-!" Stan yelled, but Ashton was already gone. "Your curfew yet."

 "Is she okay?" Beverly asked.

"Y-Y-Yeah, I'm sure." Bill lied.

"Okay, well maybe I'll see you around." Beverly said.

"We were thinking about going to the Q-Q-Quarry tomorrow, if you wanna come." Bill told Beverly.

"Good to know, Thanks. Oh and, Who's Alex?" Beverly asked.

"H-H-He's Ashton's Ste-" Bill was cut off by Eddie.

"None of your business." Eddie answered.

"E-E-Eddie." Bill said sternly.

"No, he's right. It took Ash four years to tell us. Why should she know?" Stan defended.

Bill tried to think of a reason, but nothing came out. There was silence for a couple of minutes.

"If you wanna know, go and ask her. She lives on 29 oaks street." Richie said.

"Okay then, Thanks anyways." Beverly said before walking out to the alleyway.

"Nice going bringing up Bowers in front of her." Stan said to Richie.

"Yeah you heard what she did." Eddie said, agreeing.

"What'd she do?" Ben asked.

"More like who'd she do! From what I hear the list is longer than my wang." Richie answered, grabbing his crotch. 

"That's not saying much." Stan said.

"There j-j-j-j-just rumors." Bill said defending the redhead

"Anyway, Bill had her back in the third grade. They kissed in the school play. Reviews said you can't fake that sort of passion." Richie told Ben.

"Now!" Richie clapped his hands. "Pip Pip and tally ho my good fellows! I do believe this chap required our utmost attention, get in there Doctor K, come on, fix him up." Richie said in a horrible British accent.

"Why don't you shut to fuck up Einstein, because I know what I'm doing and I don't want you doing the British guy with me right now." Eddie responded.

"Suck the wound. Get in there." Richie Exclaimed.

Even though Ashton didn't say it, Richie and Eddie knew she was filled with Jealousy.

*•~Emo-Gay-Tea~•*

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[honkhonkrichard]

but at what cost. - Chapter One: And So The Cycle Starts Again

It's early November, 2015. They haven't even heard from each other in nearly five years. Some... more than that. Eddie had vanished off the face of the earth, Stan seemed to want nothing to do with any of them and Richie is... Well he found himself in Chicago. On Ben and Bev's couch. They have kids now, and therapy, and mentla health issues, but Richie's more than a little determined to spend his second year of sobriety fixing his wrongs, and seeing everyone's face again. Almost everyone's face again. It all depends on who will accept his apologies.

Read on Ao3 or Below :) Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

Elliot poked at his father’s shoulder the way kids do when they don’t know how to wake them. His father was shirtless, wrapped under the covers with shoulder blades out and head tucked under a pillow. Elliot had tried to call out, but didn’t want to startle him awake.

No need for more startling. There was too much of that already.  

So, Elliot used his index and middle finger to gently poke and prod at his father. His skin was a little sweaty. He smelled sweaty, too. He was up late last night working on something, talking with Elliot’s mother quietly. But his mother was harder to wake up, and much easier startled, so Dad it was.  

And his father’s eyes must’ve opened, because he stirred. His head lifted from the pillows and his mousy brown; slightly curly hair stuck to his face.  

He almost had a beard now, but Elliot figured it would be shaven back down to a polite stubble soon. Dad never cared for his appearance too much, and Mom never liked him in a beard.  

Reminds me too much of my ex-husband. She would say, and then coo at dad. Plus, it's too rough to enjoy.  

Dad always went red at this comment, but never explained what it meant. Must’ve been an adult thing. Elliot remembered growing up, kissing his father’s cheek when it was a beard and feeling the itchy prickle on his mouth for the rest of the day. Since Mom and Dad kiss so much, maybe Mom felt the same way.  

“Dad?” Elliot asked gently, confirming his dad was awake, and not just looking at him.  

“What’s up kiddo?” Dad replied. He sounded rough and groggy. Elliot was a smart 11-year-old. He knew the vague effects of hangover when his father wore them. It wasn’t so often he did this, but Elliot had seen the signs.  

“Um…” Elliot shifted on his feet. “There’s a weird man on the couch.”  

Dad shifted up more. His eyes opened properly, and the warm concern in his eyes made Elliot feel a little better.

“What are you talking about?”

Mom sat up a little bit. She was wearing one of Dad’s shirts. She looked grumpy. 

Mom was almost always grumpy in the morning, wearing a big furrowed frown, yawning and grunting. Dad liked being awake in the morning but he was a little less aware. It was fun for Elliot to watch them interact first thing in the morning.

“A man?” mom said with a bit of disdain.

“He’s tall and long and has lots of tattoos and won’t get off the couch.” Elliot thought perhaps, when he first saw the mystery man, that his house was being robbed.

He had seen robbers on TV. They went for small empty houses, not the open cottage house he lived in. And robbers wore darker clothes, and were in and out of the house trying not to get caught. Elliot knew the couch-hogger wasn’t a robber when he yanked a blanket out of JJ's hands. No robber wants to steal from a 10-year-old.

“A tall man with tattoos…” dad mumbled, eyes closing shut again and frowning, trying to remember, or perhaps wake up. “Stealing our couch?”

“He’s not stealing it.” Elliot promised, thinking about Looney Toon burglars. “He’s just trying to sleep.”

Dad leaned over his shoulder and looked at Mom, the way parents seemed to when they thought they knew something their children did not.

“Are there flags on the back of his neck? Tattoo flags?” Mom asked, still looking at Dad.

Elliot nodded. “The Irish flag, I think. Its green and white and red.”

“That’s Italian.” Dad looked over at him and then started to get out of bed.  

“Italian flag then.” Elliot said. “Should I call the police? Do we know him?”  

Mom swung herself out of bed. She looked a little nervous, which made Elliot think he should call the cops, even though the couch man didn’t seem particularly dangerous. A nuisance, yes, but you call the cops when there’s a weird raccoon in your garbage right?  

“He was playing tug-of-war with JJ for his blanket. Do we know him?” Elliot asked again.  

“You don’t know him. Your mother and I know him well.” Dad put a hoodie on. It was the soft Star Wars one. He wears it a lot when he plays with LEGO. Maybe he’ll play LEGOs with Elliot today.

“What’s his name?”

Ben scratched his chin. He did not know how or why Richie broke into his house last night. Or why he yanked Ben’s youngest’s favorite blanket from his grubby little fingers. Or how the dog didn’t lose her damn mind seeing him.

That’s not fully true. Ben could come up with answers for all but one of these questions. 1: Ben gave him one of the spare keys almost a decade ago. In case there was an emergency. 2: he probably took JJ's blanket because it’s a soft blanket and the couch's designated blanket is crap. Richie was cold, so he nabbed it and went back to sleep, knowing a nine-year-old wouldn’t be able to get it back (although he had another thing coming because last week JJ found out what an air horn was, and knew there was one in Dad’s Office) 3. Lucy probably remembered him from the last time he was here.

It was all about why then.

Thinking about that night made Ben clench his jaw. He breathed deeply. Anger is an ugly emotion; his mother always says. Just breathe Benny.

His mother is the only one who gets to call him Benny. Not even Bev called him Benny.

Richie was tucked into the fold of the couch, back bare, tattoos covering his shoulders and going down his spine. His hair was long, longer than Ben remembered it being. His jeans were still on, as evidence by the clear leather in his belt loops and the cuffs at his ankles but his shirt was thrown over the arm of the couch and his socks were on top of it.  

Ben looked to the front door. A new key on the key rack, and a pair of white converse that had been drawn and painted all over kept neatly by the front door. 

Then Ben noticed something that struck the anger out of him. Bev saw it first, of course, she must’ve been looking for it.  

“Richie, get up.” Ben said, not really caring all the much because it was Richie and Richie is like he's always been.  

Richie moved, curling in on himself, and his tattooed fingers wrapped around the opposing bicep. He was awake alright.  

“Richie. What are you doing here?” Bev asked, walking over and peeling the blankets off him. “Move so I can sit.”

“Or? Whatcha gonna do, Foxy, sit on me?” Richie said, in a clear and steady voice. Far more than Ben had expected, and by her face, far more than Bev expected too.  

“I have stilettos that would go right through your belt. Get. Up.”

Richie's legs, which had been hanging over the arm of the couch, tucked in, giving Bev room to sit.

Ben rolled his eyes.

He considered himself a forgiving guy. He forgave Bill years ago. He forgave Stan. He even forgave Eddie. But Richie was a different story. He’s spent many years forgiving him. Praying for him.

Now’s the time Tozier. Was it worth it or not?

“Richie, are you sober?” Ben asked, speaking his mind once and a while. He looked behind him, and in the hallway doorframe was his boys. JJ was bravely stepped in front of Eli, ready to get his blanket back.

“To your rooms, please.”  

They looked up at him with their wide eyes. Ben knew they were smart enough to know not to argue, given the tone of Ben’s voice, the sharpness in Beverly's words and the confusion of Richie's presence. So, they turned on their feet and ushered each other into JJ's room. In minutes Ben knew they’d cross the hall into Elliot’s room instead.  

Eileen swiftly went passed him, holding a bowl of cereal. She had been sitting at the counter. She mumbled a soft “Whoop” as she went. Ben bit back a smile.  

Richie hadn’t answered so Ben came up behind Bev, always ready to be her muscle, and backup. “Richie. Are you sober?”

Richie let out a long sigh. He was still holding himself in a tight, cowardly way. “Yes, I’m sober.”

“What was that?” Bev snapped.

“I’m sober.” Richie replied, louder this time.

Bev looked at Ben, who while looking back, rubbed her shoulder.

“Are you?”

“Yes.” Richie mumbled, and this time he sounded desperate. He sat up, and turned around.  

It could be argued that Richie had the nicest hair out of all the losers. Ben always thought Beverly had the nicest hair. But Richie always had thick, long curls, and now they were thrown carelessly around his shoulders, and down his back.  

Ben had forgotten about aging, to a degree. The kids aged – had aged, greatly so, after the past five years – but Beverly was evergreen. Timeless. She hadn’t seemed to age a day since they got married. Ben felt still and calm with her, since the day they got married, she was dazzling and beautiful, he felt like their first dance had never really stopped.  

If he thought about it too long, he’d zone out entirely, disappearing into the memory of his shoes tapping the aged wood floor, Beverly’s warm, soft hands in his as her fantastical wedding dress swings around the room. She laughs as Heaven by Bryan Adams fills the air...

Ben takes a second to blink. He’s not at his wedding right now. He's been married for 13 years. He needs to focus on the now. He needs to focus on Richie – who he hasn’t seen in nearly four years and was kind of thought to be dead by now, which, yikes, but given Richie’s history, wasn’t really too harsh of a judgement, – who was sitting on his couch, shaken and bleeding and probably scared as hell.  

Richie had clearly aged. His hair was longer yes, but he looked like he’s had a hangover for decades. His eyes looked heavy and sunken. He had dropped weight – too much weight to be healthy – and there were sliver strands appearing at his roots. He looked old. He looked sick.

Around his middle was a poorly put-on gauze bandage. On his side was a big red blotch. Not quite bleeding through, but Ben was willing to bet there was scuffs of red on his nice couch.  

“What did you do?” Beverly asked, picking his shirt off the arm of the couch.

“Some teenagers decided to pick a fight.” Richie told her.

“You were mugged?” Ben’s eyes popped open and his head bowed down from his shoulders.

“Lightly mugged.” Richie corrected. “Wasn’t even that bad. They didn’t even shank me.”  

“Then what’s this?” Beverly said, putting her finger tips on the red splotched bandage. Richie didn’t flinch.  

Richie squinted. He didn’t have his glasses on, so he looked like he was trying to read invisible words.

“Mild laceration.” He decided, after some thought.  

“Do you need medical assistance?” Ben’s words felt soured, somehow. Maybe because driving Richie to the hospital for a god damn stab wound wasn’t what Ben wanted to do at 9:23am on a Saturday.

Richie hung his head and stared at his middle. He gently pulled at the bandage to see under it. His eyebrows went up, a little bit. “I think I’m good.”  

Ben rolled his eyes, and then looked at Beverly. She looked concerned. Far more concerned then Ben felt. She always was more forgiving for Richie’s strange, god-testing nature. He was like a cockroach, incapable of being damaged but begging to be squished.  

Ben knew he was being too harsh. He loved Richie like a brother. An estranged, weird, alcoholic older brother. And Ben would be able to save his resentment for Richie until after he knew Richie wouldn’t get an infection and die on the couch like a bug that is not a cockroach.  

He turned to speak down the hallway:  

“Elieen, can you bring me the first aid kit from the hall closet please?”

Richie buttoned up his shirt quietly. The wound wasn’t nearly as bad as it looked, and they were all surprised to see it when it was cleaned up. It looked a little bad, yeah, but nowhere near fatal.  

Richie had hung his hair up in a ponytail, lose, long bangs over his tired face. The longer Ben stared at him the more conflicted he felt. He wanted to be mad at Richie, wanted to resent him. But he knew Richie would only drop in like this if there was some deeply, deeply wrong.  

Beverly set a tray holding three mugs in front of them at the breakfast bar, resigning to making Richie something to eat while Ben cleaned him up. Richie scarfed down the pancakes, but now he only gingerly took the coffee mug and swirled it around, staring at it like it was going to help him.

“So,” Beverly gave him an expecting look. “What happened?”

Richie gave her an expecting look back. “What do you mean?”

“Why are you here, Rich. We haven’t heard from you in a hot while.”

Richie shrugged, and flashed his eyes a little. The scars in his irises made Ben’s heart hurt. “I’m not allowed to spend my sober-versary with my two sexy best friends?” He plastered a grin onto his face, cheesy and face. “Hah? No?”

“You’ve been sober for a year?” Beverly tilted her head, trying not to sound too doubtful.  

“Yeah,” Richie sighed, dropping his cheesy grin and looking somberly down back to his coffee. “I was shocked too. It’s a big deal, I guess. It doesn’t feel like it though. Overshadowed by all the other anniversaries this time of year.”

Oh. Ben realized, and it hung there, unforgiving and deep.  

“It’s been five years.” Richie whispered. “Five years and he’s still gone. Seven years and Stan’s still mad at me. 12 years I’ve not been allowed to meet my god-daughter. 27 years and I still wake up in the night thinking a spear has gone through my skull.” he met Ben’s eyes. “What a world I’m living in.”  

“So what led you here?” Ben asked, now genuinely curious, and eager to push the conversation more comfortable; even though he knew it wouldn’t get there anytime soon.  

Richie hung his head, this time not for comedy or drama – Ben knew this time it was shame, and when his chin lifted back up, his eyes were dead, and watery.  

“I didn’t think I’d survive this year if I were alone.” Richie admitted. “And I wanted to believe there would be people wanting to help me stay.”  

Beverly and Ben looked at each other again, Ben wanted to get up and hold her, make her feel better and safer and to ask Richie to leave and take care of himself somewhere else but instead he got up and wrapped his arms around Richie.

It wasn’t reflective of how he felt. He was upset with Richie. He had seen how Richie could get when he was at lows like this. He could get angry – almost violently so – and often dangerous. Ben had a family. He had kids. He wasn’t going to let Richie get away with that again. But...

But Richie was still his friend, and he still deserved comfort.  

Richie sunk into Ben’s arms, tensing and relaxing and tensing and relaxing and desperate and hesitant and for the first time Ben stopped thinking about how Richie had hurt Ben, and instead considered if Richie had hurt himself.  

“You can stay with us Rich.” Beverly supplied, and Ben nodded in agreement. “As long as you keep your shirt on and you talk to us.”  

“I’m better.” Richie said wetly. “I’m trying really hard to be better, I promise I won’t ever – I won’t - I-I'm sorry-”

And then Richie broke down crying. His body jolted and shook, and while Ben couldn’t feel the tears through his hoodie, he knew they were there. Ben sunk down, holding Richie gently and bringing his chin to Richie’s shoulder. Beverly was behind him, her hands on Richie’s back, rubbing up and down slowly. She and Ben stared at each other for a while. Richie continued to choke out “I’m sorry”s and “I’ll be better”s and other sad, lonely phrases at were making Ben’s heart crack and pop.

Richie was never known to cry for long, but when he finally pulled back from Ben, the bags under his eyes were swollen and pink. “I’m sorry.” he mumbled, sucking in a gulp of air. “I gotta pull back.”  

“No no no,” Ben hushed, keeping his hands on Richie’s shoulders. Beverly had disappeared into the hallway to tell the kids they had an uncle who was going to be staying with them. Ben was never the most emotionally intelligent, but he figured he could handle this. “It’s okay Rich. You don’t have to pull back anything. We’re here for you. You need some comfort, a-and safety, and Bev and I are happy to provide.”

“You’re not mad?” Richie’s voice came out like a whisper, the look in his eyes made him look like a scared child.

“Do you want me to be mad?” And with Richie’s sudden childlike nature, Ben put on his Dad voice.

“I just don’t want the anger to be a surprise later.”  

Ben nodded. He understood. He sat up and took a deep breath.

“Okay.” He closed his eyes. He had to be thoughtful about this. Richie’s gaze slowly burned into him. He chose every word slowly and deliberately. “I... What you did to Bev and I was... traumatic. It was dangerous, and inexcusable. I know... Why you did...what you did. And I’m willing to accept that you weren't in any stable state of mind when you did it. But you still did it. And... mental health... mental illness... that’s an explanation. Not an excuse. And I will not let it happen again. In any form or fashion. I... I know you’re better. Getting better. Have gotten better. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t getting better. You’re still struggling, but you’re reaching out – looking for people who will help you, and that’s... that’s amazing. I’m really proud of you. And I know this isn’t easy. You’ve been through a lot of intense... hardships. And I’m both very proud and happy that you’re still with us. I’m, of course, open and ready to help you grow and get better from here. You deserve that much. I know you would do the same for me. I’m willing to... look past your... behavior. What you’ve done. But I will not, will not forget what you’re capable of. I’ll help you for sure. Same with Bev. But I will keep an eye on you. And if I decide that you pose a threat to my family – my wife, my kids? I will fucking kill you.”

Ben’s eyes had gone dark and his hands had dropped from Richie’s shoulder down in his own lap. His body language was mostly calm, but seeing a stormy rumble in Ben’s eyes gave Richie the shivers. Hot damn he forgot how scary Ben could be.  

(Though this should not be a surprise to Richie, Ben is 6’3” and 250 lbs of muscle and fatherly love. He could snap Richie in half.)

Richie nodded when he realized Ben was done. He almost wanted to say yes sir like he was talking to a drill sergeant or something but then he’d pop a boner and he’s learned over the decades of knowing Ben that boners made Ben uncomfortable, so he just nodded.  

Ben took a deep breath. “I’m not...” He stopped and tilted his head, like some ghost behind him was whispering the words. “I know you’re doing better. And I need you to understand I don’t expect you to get like you were that night. I know you better than that now.”  

Richie nodded again, this time more earnestly.

Ben smiled; it made his entire presence feel warmer. Damn these kids have a good dad.

“Thanks man,” Richie’s throat felt destroyed. “For being honest and shit with me. Needed a good slap on the wrists.”

Ben made an undecipherable face. “No, no you didn’t. C’mere.” And they hugged again.  

“We have a guest room, it’s all yours. The house wakes up at around seven, every morning, and the kids are all in bed by ten at night, just so you know.” he went on, and his voice went softer the longer he spoke. Richie could almost throw up with how sweet it was, how much Ben adored his kids.  

Richie rubbed his eyes and face. “I have so many damn birthdays and shit to make up for.” he sighed. “I gotta take those little bastards shopping I think.”

“Maybe you could reel the language in, Rich?” Ben asked politely, and Richie nodded, mumbling a soft ‘sorry’ before Ben pointed behind him. “You never know when you have an audience.”

Richie looked over his shoulder, and Bev had reappeared with three little gremlins (Or, “children” as Richie was told they were called).  

“This is your uncle Richie.”

Oh my cock coming christ I’m their uncle Richie.

Richie smiled, really big, toothy, genuine smile, for the first time in a while. The three of the looked uncomfortable, but curious.  

The smallest of the three, the one who had that soft ass purple blanket Richie took earlier, stomped forward and pointed his little sausage fist at Richie with rage. “Don’t touch my blanket! It’s mine and you’re not allowed to steal!”

Richie nodded. Those are some solid terms. Motherfucker knows how to tell someone off. “You’re right. I’m very sorry, it was wrong of me to steal from you, I will never do it again. I promise.” And Richie put his hand out to shake.  

The Kid gave Richie a suspicious glare, and then shook his hand – oh my god his little hand he’s so small what a little dude what the fuck - carefully, like he had just bet the house on the ponies. He was the smallest alright, with a pair of big chaotic eyes. Richie could tell he was the one who steals from the cookie jar.

“My name is JJ. I am the... Th-the brains of the operation.” JJ said, like he was some war boss and not a nine-year-old. “These are my siblings-”

“Eliott.” the middle kid who looked so much like Ben Richie thought he was going to have to lay down. It was like he was back in 1989, that summer when they all met, if Ben had dropped 60 lbs at random. He had the same round face, brown eyes and mousy brown hair. He looked bored out of his damn mind. Richie figured he didn’t need to steal from the cookie jar. Eliott had a secret stash or something. “Hi.”  

“Man of few words, I respect that.” Richie nodded, saying nothing more before he started called the poor kid ‘haystack’.

JJ was still holding onto Richie’s hand. His palm was bigger than the kid's entire outstretched hand. “That’s Elieen. She’s gross and twelve.”

Elieen, who looked like Beverly but with long hair, longer than Bev’s ever was, well kept bangs and brown eyes, made the most teenage face as she rolled her eyes and tried to turn on her heels to go back down the hall, presumably to her room. Beverly stopped her and said, quietly but with a firm tone: Say hi, please. Just say hello.

“Hi. I like your tattoos. I’m not gross.” She said sharply, with a little head twitch and a wave of her fingers.  

Richie looked down to his fingers as he said “Oh thank you, I don’t know how they got there.” He had become so desensitized to his tattoos he only really recognized them when someone brought them up. Normally this was limited to children, punk teenagers and really angry catholic grandmas. “I didn’t think you were; Little Man doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

JJ scrunched his tiny face together. “Yes I do!”

“No one under four feet tall knows what they’re talking about.” Richie told him. Ben snorted and then repressed laughter behind him. “It’s a fact of life.”  

JJ didn’t look convinced until Richie said fact of life. Then he dropped everything and started to really think about it. He looked at Bev, and then at Ben (who was still trying to not laugh) and then to the floor.

“Maybe. I think I'm more than four feet tall.”  

Richie wanted to say “maybe” in that ambivalent tone you give kids when they say absolutely anything, but Eliott, without missing a beat, said: “You'd be wrong.”  

“Cold-blooded.” Richie said to Beverly, smiled and ran her nails over Eliotts scalp. Eliott blinked harshly and shivered.  

These kids... Richie liked these kids.

“Uncle Richie, shall I show you to your room?” Ben said, probably using his Dad Senses to know the kids were done with their introductions.

“Sure thing.” Richie looked down to JJ, who was now very interested in the circuits tattooed onto Richie’s fingers. “Thanks for the introduction Little Man. Bring it in.” He stood up off the breakfast bar and brought his other hand out to a fist for, as the kids bluntly say, a fist bump.

JJ scurried almost, staring up at Richie and it seemed like he was realizing for the first time that Richie was an adult, who was 6’4 and covered neck to waist in tattoos, had long curly hair and two very pierced ears. Richie thought he realized this because he jumped once and said, loudly: “You look like a Rockstar!”

“Rockstar?! Where?!” Richie yelped, faking panic, and JJ dissolved into a fit of giggles. JJ gave Richie a fist bump and continued to grin wildly. His hair was brown, like his dads, but it was bushy and wild curly like his moms. He had the big contagious grin Bev had too.

Richie smiled at Elieen, who was going that dumb young teenager thing of trying to look cool by pretending you don’t think anything is funny, and pointed a finger gun at Eliott, who looked like he actually didn’t think anything was funny, and with a totally straight face, did a finger gun back.  

The guest room was nice. Like, hotel nice. A nice tall lamp, a shrimpy, empty desk, a nice big queen-sized bed, with a ton of drawers and shelves in and around the frame, which really drew away from the fact that the room was otherwise empty, quiet, kind of sad and there were no sheets on the mattress.  

Ben opened up the blue blackout curtains and the whole room felt a lot nicer. “I’ll get some sheets and make the bed for you, so you have some blankets and stuff.”  

“No way man I’ll just use Elliot. He’s stiff as a board. Just make him plank all night.”

Ben smiled at that but shook his head. “You’ll just have to make due with blankets.”

“What about all three of them? They can rotate through the night.” Richie called after Ben as he left the room. “They can- They can take shifts!”

Richie laughed to himself and took a breath in the dusty, lonely little guest room outside Chicago Illinois. One week ago, if you had asked him where he thought he’d be a week from then he would’ve said dead or sleeping or in an alleyway, dying. But instead, he was states away from home, in a well-lit guest room, alive. Sober.  

He shuddered and turned around, to see a wide eyed Elieen in the door way, holding his bag in her arms. Richie took it from her and without really thinking about it said “Thanks Chica.” and then stopped abruptly.  

When they were kids, and first becoming friends, Richie tried an array of nicknames on Beverly, and every time he gave her a new one, it made her skittish. Every member of Bev’s bloodline Rich had met (That being two of them, Beverly Marsh and Al “Asshole” Marsh) were standoffish as hell. The last thing Richie wanted was to freak out the 12-year-old as a weird, nickname giving 40-year-old show pig.  

But Elieen just broke into a semi-shy grin that reminded Richie of smoke breaks and scrunched up her nose with a tilt of her head. Her hair swayed to the side.

“Chica?” She asked. “Is that Spanish or something?”

Richie felt a wave of relief. “Yeah it’s just Spanish for girl. Nothing fancy. You gotta earn fancy nicknames.”

Elieen leaned pressed her back to the doorframe and watched Richie open his duffle bag on the bed, tossing out the vitals: phone chargers, notebooks, laptop. “What are my parent’s fancy nicknames?”

“Your mom used to be Chica, when we were kids.” Richie said, and heard the fondness in his voice. “When we didn’t know each other that well. Nowadays, she’s Poppet, or Red. And your dad is Haystack, or Benvolio.”  

“Benvolio?” Elieen mumbled, clearly trying to figure it out. “Poppet- Do you mean poppy? Like the flower?”  

“No, I mean Poppet.” Richie promised, with no further explaination. He plugged his phone charger into the wall.  

Elieen let out a half-chuckle. “You’re weird.”

Richie swung around from where he was facing the wall. “Yeah I am!”

Elieen made a fun face and wandered back down the hallway. Richie heard her relay the conversation to someone in the living room.  

Richie sat on the bed. He let out a long sigh. Then he smiled again. Genuinely. The longer he was in the room the less it felt like a hotel. Outside the doorway, he could hear the rest of the house in motion. It was barely 11am. JJ saying “I want pancakes!” despite him having breakfast not half an hour ago. Eliott explaining Benvolio to Eileen and Ben correcting him. The sound of a washing machine rumbling through the walls. Beverly was using a sewing machine across the hall in her office.  

At home, Richie’s house was very quiet. His hobbies needed headphones, and he didn’t know his neighbors. He had lived alone for five years, at that point. Being in a family house felt... nostalgic.

He closed his eyes and tried to picture the last get-together the losers had, all seven of them in one place. It was Halloween, 2008. Richie was Elvis Presley, Bev was an 80s workout teacher, Ben was a candy monster (he glued a bunch of gross kinds of candy to a black sweater and wore it under a brown jacket with a witch hat – apparently it's from a cartoon), Bill didn’t dress up, he never did, Mike went as Bill, Stan was a cockatoo (He had an amazing costume, always did) and Eddie-

The thought of Eddie threw Richie’s smile off-kilter. That year Eddie was... a stereotype. He went as a stereotype. He had a bowtie and his hair combed back and suspenders and khakis and spent the whole night talking in a weird, high-tone sassy way, with his hand on his hip and a cheesy fake grin on his face.  

He always did weird costumes like that. He would go as “the scariest thing you could imagine” and show up as tax paperwork. He would go as “a hideous monster” and tape a mirror to his shirt. Dumb, easy stuff like that. It made Richie so happy to see him do that because it upset everyone to see him in a costume like that (he would go as “Late” and show up ready to hit the fucking Beach) but Richie knew Eddie looked forward to it every year.  

Richie missed him. So much.  

But he wanted to believe Eddie wouldn’t want him to be miserable. With or without Eddie around, Richie knew he had to fix his mood. He wanted his second year of sobriety to kick off with a bang. Reuniting with Ben and Bev and meeting their kids was step one. Step two...

There was someone Richie pissed off a long time ago. Someone Richie would give his entire right leg to see again.  

He wondered, for a second, if Stan even wanted to see him.

Ah, of course he does, that crazy bastard. Can’t dress up as a cockatoo and expect Richie Tozier not to show up at your door step. Stan has Richie’s god daughter for Christ sakes. Can’t keep him from her for long. And he can’t kiss Patty from this far away!

Richie nodded to himself. He would fix what he had broken with Stan. After that? Who knows? Maybe he’d convince the kids to take up planking.