#and B how are you seeing that as anything but Eddie desperately trying to ignore how much everything about this situation is killing him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kafka-ish · 5 years ago

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a long time coming | r.t.

when a familiar face shows itself in derry, a familiar feeling picks up in richie’s heart

word count: 8,012

warnings/included: nsfw (smut, fingering, and regular vanilla sex, first time stuff), fluff (like... a conspicuous amount of fluff), fem!reader

a/n: gL gamers

y/n y/l/n was coming back to Derry.

To any other bystander, this wasn’t news. However, to Richie Tozier, it was because Richie Tozier loved y/n y/l/n.

He loved her when they were five and she had introduced herself as the girl who moved in next door. He loved her when they were ten and she made friendship bracelets for both of them (which he would later find out she made friendship bracelets for all the Losers). He loved her when they were thirteen when he should’ve spent his time running from the bullies at his toes instead. And he loved her when they were fifteen when he was writing love letters. But she’d never see them because she was away at some fancy boarding school in New York, per her parents’ request.

“I don’t see why you gotta go,” Richie said glumly. He was looking down and kicked at the dirt beneath his feet. Even if this would be the last time he’d ever see her, it would be too hard to look her in the eyes.

Richie was the last one y/n told about Hoosac School. But if y/n had the option, she wouldn’t have told him at all. It was hard enough for her to bid her goodbyes to Bill, Stan, Eddie, Bev, Ben, and Mike.

Naturally, Beverly was the first one she told. She was the only other girl in the Loser’s Club and the one y/n hung out with the most aside from Richie. Beverly was a blubbering mess. The brown mascara she applied delicately was running down her cheeks in ugly streaks and her red hair would sit tangled on her head for the next few days.

Bill was next, but Bill knew everything. He found out from Bev the next day and confronted her about it at school. And y/n would sob into his shoulder and ask him what to do.

“Tuh-tell the others,” he said sympathetically.

So she did.

She told Ben, Eddie, and Stan in her next period she shared with him. Ben sadly stroked her arm and told her he could have one of his CupCakes at lunch. y/n smiled, the sweet gesture easing the pain from her mind. And she told him she would take him up on that offer only if they were orange flavored.

Eddie cried that day, but he passed it off as an allergic reaction to the different brand of air freshener Mrs. Clarke used. Stan and Ben were just kind enough to believe him.

Stan was always the voice of reason. He told her this would be a great opportunity to learn new things and make new friends, but he also made her swear she’d write him—them—every week and call every night. He thought y/n would laugh at him for being clingy and compulsive but she didn’t. She took his hand in his, squeezing it firmly when she assured him she’d call every night and write every week.

But a certain sadness washed over her when it was Mike’s turn to receive the news.

It was on an early Saturday morning when he did. She offered to help him out with the farm—partly to spend time with him and partly to get some wear in her new overalls she’d thrifted before she left.

“I know… you’ve probably already heard.” y/n swallowed harshly before continuing. She was aimlessly shoveling a hole in the ground and she stared at the soil as if it were his brown eyes because this would be harder for her to say than harder for him to hear. “I’m leaving Derry.”

The sun wasn’t even up yet, but Mike was able to comprehend her words just fine. “When?” They were both turned away from each other—her working on the hole and him working on the bean sprouts.

“A month after school lets out. Don’t worry, Mikey. There’s still time for me to help you on the farm.”

“Just so you can dig holes in my daddy’s soil? I don’t think so.” Both y/n and Mike laughed. For a moment, y/n had forgotten about the packed boxes in her empty bedroom and the plane tickets her parents kept in an envelope for June the first.

And now y/n stood in front of Richie only a few days after she’d be boarding that plane because she’d been putting off telling him the way she did with the rest of the Losers.

y/n was staring at his forehead, desperately trying to meet his eyes. She didn’t care if the last time he’d be seeing her was with smudged mascara and red eyes, but she needed to see him. “My parents are making me,” she repeated. “If it were up to me I’d..”

“Don’t go,” Richie said abruptly, cutting her off. His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed and he couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her—even if her lips were bitten raw and her eyes welled with salty tears that he’d kiss away in his dreams when he went to bed that night. “To hell with your parents. You can live with me, kid. It’ll be like college but without the debt.”

y/n sniffed. Even though Richie was the funny one, she couldn’t bring herself to laugh. Maybe if the words were coming from Bill, Stan, or Ben, but not Richie. Not when her whole life was in front of her and there was no sign of him in it.

Richie frowned because if he couldn’t put a smile on her face, he didn’t know what would. A strong silence edged itself between the two of them. It wasn’t awkward, but it wasn’t comfortable either. He pushed up his glasses lazily with his index finger to get a better look at the sad sight ahead of him who was poorly trying to contain her sobs.

“Hey, kid.” Richie took her in his lanky arms. Neither of them said anything after that, but Richie couldn’t help but think if he said those three words maybe she wouldn’t have left.

“Well why didn’t you say so?” She’d say. They’d spend their next three years together attached to the hip before college sweeps them away. But they’d find each other later in life; at a record shop or on the streets of New York. y/n would ask “Richie, is that really you?” And Richie would reply in his British-man Voice:

“’Ello, luv. Don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”

y/n would be left in a stunned sort of silence for a while—not because she was unsure if the person standing in front of her was him, but because she was in awe. In awe that she finally found him.

But now Richie didn’t have to wait. He didn’t have to wallow in his own pity because the girl he loved was no longer two states away, but a couple of minutes away as he paced back in forth in Stan’s room.

“Calm down, Richie.” Stan was laying on his bed, trying to ignore his friend’s loud footsteps. Even though he had forced Richie to take his shoes off before coming into his house, his feet still thumped loudly against the floor. He was uncharacteristically thrusting a baseball between his two palms. It cut through the air smoothly as it moved side to side in his soft hands.

“What do you mean calm down?” Richie stopped in his tracks so he could shoot him a cold stare. “How am I supposed to calm down?” His heavy steps had resumed. Stan sighed.

“Just don’t make such a big deal out of—”

“Don’t give me that shit, Stan.” Richie groaned and went to tug on the friendship bracelet y/n gave him from when they were in grade school. It was a habit he’d picked up when y/n left. Whenever he got nervous, or irritated, or missed her, his right hand would find his left and wind around the memento. Arguably, that friendship bracelet could be deduced to a tangle of old, ratty strings; better yet, trash. But in Richie’s magnified eyes, it was still the same bracelet made of vibrant blue and green yarn y/n had bought from the craft store and braided with her small, meticulous fingers.

“What shit?” Stan scoffed because sometimes Richie could be irrational. “It’s called honesty. And honestly, it’s just y/n. What could go wrong?”

What could go wrong? Hell, everything could go wrong. She could forget who I am. Or better yet, she would remember and hate me.

“She won’t hate you,” Stan said unconvincingly in his usual monotone voice. It was like he could Richie’s mind, but Richie was obvious when it came to this stuff. Painfully obvious.

“Wuh-what’cha guh-guh-guys talking ab-bout?” Bill let himself into the room without knocking. Neither of the two boys minded. “I br-brought my bb-b-base-ball cards. But I’m keeping the Babe Ruth—”

“We’re not trading today, Bill.” Stan put down the leathery ball which sat in his left hand and sat up exasperatedly.

“W-we’re not?” An odd sort of sadness flicked across his usually bright features and he pocketed the collectibles. “Ih-ih-if we weren’t you sh-sh… could’ve cuh-called me fuh-fifteen minutes ago.” He went down to sit on Stan’s bed with him but was met with a harsh stare and a scolding instead.

“Take your shoes off!” He screeched and Bill toed off his old, beat-up Keds.

“So, wuh-what are we doing… if wuh-we’re not trading?” Bill asked.

“Richie just wants to talk.” Bill’s nose scrunched like a child who had just been informed liver was for dinner.

“T-t-t-talk? Get a s-s-sex change while you’re at it.”

Both Stan and Bill laughed, and Richie only grumbled. “C’mon, guys.” His pacing had yet again stopped but Stan knew he wouldn’t stay still for long. “What should I do?”

Then, Bill knew what they were talking about. It wasn’t a secret that Richie liked y/n. But like was an understatement. It just remained unsaid between the Losers. Either because Richie wouldn’t hear the end of it if they did talk about it or because… what was there to talk about? There were only so many times six boys and one girl could sing ‘Richie loves y/n’ until it got old.

“Wuh-well…” The rest of Bill’s words were swallowed by a heavy build-up of saliva and replaced with new ones before either Stan or Richie could chime in. “What do yo-you wanna do?”

“Aw, man. Lots of things.” Richie took a seat next to Bill on the edge of Stan’s neatly made bed. Stan groaned and shoved a pillow over his flushed face. He was torn between wanting to hear the details and hating that Richie was taking this conversation to a sappy turn. “The first thing I’d do would probably pull her in for a hug and kiss her cheek… And then I’d—”

“Beep Beep, Richie.” Stan’s muffled voice came from under the pillow and Bill laughed in agreement.

“Kuh-kiss?” Bill asked skeptically.

“Yeah. I know that’s new vocabulary to you, Big Bill, but—”

“No,” Bill said, ignoring Richie’s previous, rude, comment. “I mm-mean, you cuh-cuh-can’t kiss y/n.”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Richie said, only half-listening to what Bill was saying. But Bill’s next statement grabbed Richie’s (and Stan’s) full attention.

“I cuh-can’t. But her b-boyfriend wuh-houldn’t like it.”

“y/n has a boyfriend?” Both Stan and Richie said in unison. The pillow flew from Stan’s face and his eyes were now widened with interest.

“How’d you find out?” Stan sandwiched himself between Bill and Richie. Richie was almost falling off the bed and he wanted to scoff because if anything he was more a part of the conversation than Ol’ Stanny Boy.

“Oh-oh-over the phone. Sh-sh-she called muh-me and s-s-s-said some-thing about a guh-guy named Tr-Tr-Trevor Mmm-Martin. Nuh-Nothing s-s-serious at the tuh-time. Bb-but…”

Richie didn’t catch the bullshit spewing from Bill’s big mouth. His head was busy spinning in all different directions, and he felt as if he were going to puke. Though there were no signs of the tuna salad sandwich and salt and vinegar chips Stan and he shared trekking its way up to his throat and onto Stan’s just shampooed carpet. Was this what heartbreak felt like?

If so, it was one son of a bitch.

Richie couldn’t seem to enjoy himself for the rest of the day—or the rest of the week, for that matter. He didn’t laugh when Stan cracked a joke that Bill laughed at (something about Jews getting their dicks cut off as an alternative to hell). He didn’t race home to greet the girl next door he’d been longing to see. And he didn’t feel anything when that same girl was pressed against his chest during the scary part of the movie all of the Losers had planned to see.

It was a sort of ‘welcome back’ celebration for y/n. This whole week, actually, would be dedicated to y/n in regard to her return. Stan, Eddie, and Mike were the first ones at the theatre. They waited outside of the Aladdin Theatre, all three in a line while Stan checked his watch for what seemed to be hundredth time and Eddie counted the change in his pocket, hoping it’d be enough for snacks.

“Don’t worry about it, Eddie,” Mike reassured. He patted him on the back. It was firm but gentle at the same time. It calmed him. “If you don’t have enough for snacks, me or someone else can spot you. And don’t worry about paying back.”

Eddie visibly relaxed at his words but Mike didn’t know why he was all of the sudden anxious about something like that.

Just then, Bill and Bev came up. Beverly’s hair was held back in a blue cowboy bandana, a contrast to her red hair, as a makeshift hairband. Her white blouse almost blended against her pale skin and her blue jeans chafed because of how fast she was skipping. Bill was falling behind but he didn’t really care. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his denim board shorts and he walked—strolled—down the sidewalk as if he had all the time in the world.

“I’m so excited!” A harsh squeal erupted from Beverly’s lips and Eddie had to cup his hands over his ears.

“Jesus, Bev. You could blow out an eardrum with those lungs.” But he wasn’t too impressed with her vocal range.

Ben and Richie came up together. They were talking about some new comic issue—Ben looked really into it, but Richie just wanted to avoid the topic of y/n that he was sure was now prevalent in everyone’s minds. Beverly gave him a knowing smirk when the two finally reached the group and Richie displayed his best ‘what-the-fuck-do-you-mean’ expression when he really did know what the fuck she meant.

This left y/n to be the last of the Losers to arrive.

The rubber sole of Richie’s beat up left slip-on tapped impatiently against the hot cement. “How long does it take to get ready?”

“Do you think she got lost?” Ben asked curiously, hoping that wasn’t the case.

“We should go in. Y’know so seats don’t get taken.” Before the rest of the group could protest Richie’s lame idea in attempts to boycott seeing their long-lost friend, a familiar voice piped up.

“That’s awfully rude of you Tozier.” Richie turned around to see y/n. How could a person look the same, yet totally different at the same time? Her hair was longer from when he last saw her and there was a new glow in her eyes that Richie couldn’t help but think meant she lost her innocence. He could’ve sworn she got taller, but she was also wearing platform wedges with little white flowers on the straps which matched her baby blue sundress that came just above the knee.

“y/n!” Beverly was the first to say. She ran the not far distance between them and enraptured her into a tight hug. “I missed you so much! I can’t believe you left me here… with all boys.”

y/n didn’t miss a beat of Beverly’s sarcasm and rolled her eyes. “I know, how could I? I’m such a monster.” The two giggled for an ungodly amount of time which the boys summed up to a sort of telepathic communication between the two.

Ben was next to greet y/n. He said she and he could share a pack of Donettes this time and a nostalgic smile crinkled her eyes as she remembered how he shared his dessert with him when she left.

Mike, Eddie, and Stan were next. Mike told her that while there’s no work to be done on his father’s farm, they could still hang out. Eddie hugged her just like Bev had. And Stan scolded her for being late but then whispered a ‘thanks’ for keeping her promise of writing to him, even if it wasn’t every week.

y/n lingered behind to say hi to Bill when he opened the door for everyone.

“Luh-luh-long time no s-s-see. Stranger.” y/n didn’t realize the Losers were waiting for them.

“Nice to see you, too.” She nudged Bill’s arm with her elbow and walked in. They didn’t say much to each other because nothing had to be said. They had an unspoken connection. Bill was like her brother. Always knew what to say. Always there for her…

Richie was the last to greet y/n because unlike Bill, he didn’t know what to say. He could feel the words dancing on his tongue, but he knew they’d come out in either a stutter or gibberish. He was waiting at the candy counter, drumming his fingers on the glass while Ben ordered a large popcorn and Donettes. Mike paid for his own strawberry licorice whips—none of the Losers partook in his favorite candy. Beverly only got a soda, and Eddie bought his own personal popcorn, but if Stan asked, he could have a few kernels.

��Hi.” Richie looked like he had seen a ghost when y/n came up next to him. He shouldn’t have been startled by her, but he was.

“Hey…” He held off on calling her a cheeky nickname because she had a boyfriend and that would be wrong, and he had morals—

“Are you getting anything?”

That depends, are you for sale? Beep beep, Rich.

“Nothing really…really caught my eye.” He glanced at the menu one more time as if he hadn’t had it memorized from the thousands of other times he’s been there—alone or not.

“That’s too bad. I thought we could share a popcorn?” y/n asked hopefully. “Or a soda? If you’re trying to cut down on carbs.”

Richie laughed. “I thought you and Ben were sharing those mini nightmares.” His hand dove into his pocket anyway. You can never be too sure, right?

“It’s called balance,” y/n said all too knowingly. “Have you ever heard of salty and sweet makes the perfect combination?” She eyed him through her mascara coated lashes that he remembered from three years ago and Richie heard himself calling one of the girls at the concessions stand over for a large popcorn. Extra butter.

Was she the sweet and Trevor was the salty one of the pair? His mind was numb during the movie, except for the one persisting thought he couldn’t help but circle back to. y/n and Trevor sitting in a tree…

He felt the armrest that divided the seats fly up and a trembling body wiggle itself next to his. Her arms latched onto his torso tightly and her head buried itself into his tacky Hawaiian shirt. Slowly, Richie began to fall from his catatonic state. His eyes drifted down to her figure, squinting in the darkness of the theatre.

“Hey…” His large hand smoothed over her hair in petting motions as he cooed into her ear. “It’s all… this stuff’s all fake. It’s not real.” Her quiet, pathetic sobs continued throughout the rest of the movie. Richie still consoled her.

Only until the lights drew up and the Losers were the last to leave an empty theatre decorated with chewed up bubble gum, candy wrappers, and the remains of popcorn on the floor did y/n remove herself from his shirt.

“Sorry.” y/n cleared her throat and sat up straight as if nothing happened. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen a horror movie.” She laughed, making fun of her own pitifulness.

“It was a h-h-horror movie. Not a d-d-drama.” Bill rolled his eyes but there was a smile on his lips.

“Girls, am I right?” Stan scoffed. He stood up, about to be the first of the Losers to leave the room until he stopped in front of y/n’s chair. “Don’t worry, I almost shat my pants.” Richie overheard him whisper in her hear.

y/n tried to eat the giggles trying to escape her mouth, but she couldn’t help it. Her laughter echoed in the empty theatre and the rest of her friends laughed with her. They didn’t understand what she was laughing at, they just missed the sound of her voice after so long.

Her small hand slipped into Richie’s sweaty one when the group met daylight which Mike was surprised at, even though they entered the Aladdin at one.

“What’re you doin’?” He asked, shaken up. They had officially fallen behind from the group, but it wasn’t like either of them cared. He took his hand from hers, opting to hold his own. Once his hand left hers he immediately missed the feeling. The warmth. The comfort. But his own would have to fair as a substitute for now.

“Just like old times… I thought.” y/n was flabbergasted at Richie’s antsiness. He wasn’t like this three years ago. Three years ago, he would’ve gladly accepted her hand in his. Three years ago, he would’ve scooped up her hand claiming that he doesn’t want her catching cold even though they stood in the summer heat.

Richie twirled his fingers around the end of his shirt. Old times. But the old times were different.

Richie Tozier was thirteen years old when he finally got his own bike to ride. He no longer had to ride double on Silver or walk to any of the functions that the Losers had planned. It wasn’t embarrassing, but no boy wanted to show up to the quarry or Aladdin Theatre riding on the back of Bill Denbrough’s bike, his arms actually wrapped around him. Especially if y/n would be seeing him.

So, he requested his parents buy him a bicycle of his own. Preferably green with a large bell so everyone knows when Richie ‘Trashmouth’ Tozier was coming. Pretty please.

And after a few months, his parents finally complied. It was green but it, however, did not come with a bell.

“You’ll just have to come up with the money for that one on your own, son.” His dad told him. But that was fine by Richie. And he excitedly pedaled off to the Aladdin where his friends would be soon, in hopes to impress a certain somebody.

“W-w-wow, Ruh-Ruh-Richie. You got a bike?” Bill asked. He wondered why his friend never gave him a call, asking to come pick and him up—he just assumed he was walking today.

“Yeppers.” Richie proudly rode circles around his friends with his new ET Kuwahara. He couldn’t wait until y/n saw him on it.

“Wh-wh-when?” Bill was the most curious out of the group. He would miss hitching Richie rides, but he wouldn’t miss how tight his arms seemed to wind against his chest.

“Like, yesterday.” Richie shrugged and he was the last one to park his bike. He kept riding circles around the empty Sunday street until y/n and Bev showed up. y/n didn’t have a bike and Bev always walked with her out of courtesy.

“Hey, wide ride!” Beverly called while Richie tried to pop a wheelie.

“Stop it,” y/n giggled but Richie was too lost in his own world to hear her. Eventually, he parked it; carelessly setting it down with Silver and Stan’s, Eddie’s, Ben’s, and Mike’s bike. “You got a bike?” y/n asked, coming up from behind him. Richie grinned.

“Yeah, do ya like?” y/n nodded wordlessly.

“Green’s not my color, though… Why’d you get a bike?”

“’Cause riding double is lame.” He shrugged and they entered the movie theatre together while the rest of their friends waited for them. “Anywho, how ‘bout I take you home tonight?”

“I thought you said riding double was lame,” y/n repeated his words even though she didn’t think that.

“Well—you see… What I meant was—”

“Just kidding, Tozier. Only you think riding double is lame anyway.” y/n found herself giggling while paying for her small popcorn which Richie would end up sticking his fingers into later on.

So, Richie took her home that night (and the rest of the nights the Losers met up). Her arms wrapped around his torso in the way he used to wrap his around Bill’s. At first, it felt like he couldn’t breathe, but that could’ve been because there was a pretty girl sitting behind him and he would be responsible if they got hurt.

After a while, though, he got used to it. And the arms slung around his chest were like a seatbelt. Once in awhile, y/n would rest her chin against her shoulder. And if she were tuckered out from swimming or any of the other adventures the Losers were up against that day, he would find her dozing on his back. The breeze from his ET Kuwahara ripping through the hot air felt nice and a kind of superiority swelled in Richie’s chest for being the cause of that breeze.

The same breeze swept over y/n and Richie. The group was now long gone from their eye line, but they would’ve been anyway because of the path Richie and y/n would take to get home.

Richie had been oddly silent until they reached their houses; side by side, just like how the two friends stood. y/n took it upon herself to break that silence, but his jitters were contagious.

“We’re meeting up at the quarry tomorrow.” She turned to face him as she stood on the highest step of her doorstep. He was still taller than her.

“Yeah, so I’ve heard.” Richie tried his best to avoid her steady watch that followed him, but it was hard. He so desperately wanted to see the twinkle in her ambitious, yet caring eyes which he missed. It wasn’t looking at her that was wrong, it was his thoughts—and Richie knew that—he just couldn’t bring himself to look at her while thinking those thoughts.

“You’re coming right?” Insecurity wavered in her voice. Richie was being weird. Richie was always weird, but something was… wrong. He didn’t greet her the first day she came home. y/n eventually concluded that she was just being selfish and that Richie was probably busy that day. But now Richie was being distant. Richie was never distant.

“’Ve been thinkin’ about it. You know I wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to see Bev in her swimsuit—”

“Beep beep.” y/n wanted to laugh. She wanted to assume he was joking and think nothing more of it because that’s who Richie is. A jokester. Her heart couldn’t help but pang at the words and instantaneously the palms of her hands felt clammy. “Can you meet me beforehand? I thought we could go together?”

“Together?” Richie’s voice cracked.

“Yeah, goofball.” Again, her eyes searched for his under his mess of brown hair and coke bottle glasses, but they were playing a serious game of hide-and-seek. “I mean, it only makes sense.” She thought fast. “We live next door to each other.” And Richie realized this was only an act of convenience.

“Shore, shore, senhorritaa.” Richie couldn’t find the courage in himself—only in one of his Voices and y/n smiled, suddenly remembering how often he’d do impressions when they were kids.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” y/n said curtly.

“Tomorrow,” Richie replied cooly when he was anything but. Especially when he paced his own room, the same way he did in Stan’s, when he should’ve been at her door already.

He was only wearing the swim trunks (he had since he was fifteen and hadn’t bothered to replace) that resembled the shirts he wore, and he was debating on if he should put on a shirt or leave as he is. Or leave at all. It was going to be hot today. The weather forecast predicted to be in the nineties. Richie didn’t want to show up indecent, but he also didn’t want to sweat the whole walk there.

Two—that somehow felt like ten—aggravating minutes later, Richie stood at y/n’s door wearing a yellow shirt over his dark blue, tropical swim shorts. His forefinger hovered over the doorbell for a few seconds until he finally bit the bullet and took the bait. You’re gonna do it eventually, just do it now.

It swung open excitedly, revealing his favorite girl who stood behind it. “Come in!” She said and wasted no time to lead him up to her room.

Richie took a moment to catch his breath and take in his new surroundings. Her room seemed unchanged at first and he laughed at the grey, Victorian-style wallpaper that neither y/n nor her parents had taken down yet. But the longer he stood there, the more he noticed how bare it was. The room was stripped of any decorations she once had (except for her bed and desk)—replaced by brown moving boxes. It became apparent to Richie how much time she had spent away from the group. Even though she was here with them now, she had fabricated a life outside of the Losers Club. That fact hurt him, but a sort of curiosity burned inside of him. He wanted to know the new her, but they also had to get to the quarry at a certain time.

“When do we gotta be there by?” Richie asked. He was drawn out of his daydream by his own words and noticed y/n who was turned around in front of him. She was wearing a black, ruffled bikini that complimented her skin beautifully but barely covered the parts that should.

“Two-thirty… but I don’t think they’d mind if we show up early or late.” y/n shrugged as her fingers fumbled with the bikini strings that tied the top. “Can you help me with this?” She turned to him. If Richie picked any time to finally meet her eyes, he picked the worst timing. y/n’s neck craned to the side whilst she still struggled with her top. He knew this wouldn’t end well for him.

“Why’re you asking me?” Richie feigned a chuckle but walked over to her regardless. She angled her body dangerously close to his causing Richie to bite his lip, imprisoning the sharp gasp that threatened to depart from his lips. Cautiously, his hands took the strings from her and tied them into a sloppy bow with a double knot so it wouldn’t come undone anytime soon.

“’Cause you’re here, Tozier.” He made eye contact with her. “What’s been up with you lately?”

“What are you talkin’ about?”

“You’ve been distant… really distant.” y/n’s honesty made it hard for Richie to catch a break. “Do you think I haven’t noticed when you pulled away from me yesterday and…”

“And what?” Richie probed. His hands rested on either sides of his hips. He tried to hide any sign of nervousness in his voice, but it was hard to fake what you were.

“It’s stupid.” Obviously, y/n didn’t want to drop the topic of conversation. She didn’t want to coerce the boy into something either.

“Nothing you say, think, or do is stupid, y/n/n.” Richie chuckled once more though this time y/n could tell he wasn’t faking anything.

“You didn’t greet me when I first came home.” She mumbled, hoping he wouldn’t hear her. But he did. “Why was that?”

“I dunno… Bill told me something.” Richie wanted to drop a brick over his head because honestly, how stupid did he sound right now? y/n didn’t have to say anything. The skepticism in her eyes and her bottom lip between her teeth was enough to prompt him further. “He said you have a boyfriend and I just—”

“You just what?” Her words were mysterious. Richie couldn’t seem to read her anymore because the only telling expression she had was a raised eyebrow and cocked head. But that could mean anything.

“I really like you, okay? And how are you supposed to greet someone you’re in love with after not seeing them for three years when you can’t hug them or-or kiss them cos they went off and got a stinkin’ high and mighty boyfriend in New York? New York, for Christ’s sake. It was hard enough to look at you before but now—” Richie’s rambling was quickly cut off when y/n’s arms wrapped around his neck and her lips pressed against his. Her fingers tangled in the loops of his hair and his glasses pushed up against her face. “What was that for?” Richie asked, completely dumbfounded.

“Stop listening to Bill,” y/n instructed. She was amused by the boy in front of her.

“What?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend.” She brushed a strand of hair from out of his eyes and adjusted his now crooked glasses.

“But Bill said—”

“Bill’s stupid.” Her lips met his again. The kiss was longer this time. y/n’s were soft and tasted like the artificial cherry flavoring from her chapstick she had applied prior; a contradiction to the faint scent of tangerines that clung to her bare skin and the spicy bite of peppermint on her tongue.

His wet tongue traced the inside of her mouth, lingering on the inside of her cheek. y/n bit down on the fullest part of Richie’s bottom lip tentatively, making sure not to hurt him. She could feel his smile lines against her thumb when she removed her left hand from his hair, using it to cup his cheek. y/n pulled from him abruptly, leaving Richie floored and panting.

“You don’t think the crew would care if we showed up late?” Richie asked, his eyebrows wiggling with the new burst of confidence that kiss had given him.

y/n shook her head. A grin bestowed itself upon her swollen lips. Her arms re-enveloped themselves around his figure that towered over her. Richie copied her actions. Except his hands ghosted across the back of her naked torso covered in goosebumps from the spur of the moment. They created an invisible trail to her clothed butt, cueing y/n to jump up.

She did and Richie’s large hands supported her legs that wound around his waist. “Do you wanna…?”

“Yes,” y/n whispered into his ear. At that, a shiver crawled down Richie’s spine.

It became harder for Richie to contain his excitement as he walked the two of them over to y/n’s bed. He was gentle when he set her down on the mattress covered in grey sheets and stuffed pillows. The feeling of the cotton bed sleeves cooled her hot skin although she would need an icepack to completely bring her temperature down.

Richie was on top of her. His lips tickled face that he left quick, unperceivable marks on. When she got the chance, y/n took in his appearance thoughtfully. It was evident that his unruly hair was thrown in all different directions due to y/n’s hands that were knotted in it. There was a blush on his freckled cheeks that resembled a sunburn and he wore a look. It was soft and welcoming like he was an astrologist who had just found out she was responsible for putting the stars in the sky.

But the stars were her eyes as they held the same sparkle from yesterday at the theatre.

“Have you…have you?” Richie’s eyes hesitantly raked down her half nude body from behind his glasses, still held together with adhesive tape. They couldn’t help but slide down the slope of his long nose and y/n pushed them up for him.

“No,” y/n said bashfully. She ducked her head down only for it to be lifted back up with Richie’s thumb and forefinger.

“Do you want this?” He tried not to pose the question awkwardly, but how can you make a question like that not awkward?

“Of course.” y/n’s hand, still playing with the hairs on the back of his head, guided his face towards hers. The two met in a sweet kiss for a sweet second. “As long as it’s with you.” Her tone was confident and assuring, leaving Richie with no extra questions.

“You really know how to flatter a guy, y/n/n.” Richie still marveled at the sight splayed out before him and a melodious sound filled his ears. It was her laugh, but all of his senses seemed to be amplified to the max during this moment.

Both of her hands coasted down to the hem of his stupid, banana-colored shirt that served as a barrier between the two. Her light touches made his breath catch in his throat, released in a throaty gasp, and his once loose shorts now felt strained and uncomfortable. Ignoring the occasional breaths that left Richie’s perfect mouth, y/n’s fingers tugged on the end of his shirt; a signal for him to take the damn thing off.

Instantly, his shirt was off and thrown on her floor. In his head, he thanked that her room wasn’t fully unpacked yet but another part of him thought he and y/n wouldn’t even make it to the quarry. y/n ran two fingers down his smooth chest; the tips of her fingers sent a tingling sensation throughout his being. Richie seized them once they reached his abdomen, his grasp firm but tender. Slowly, he led her fingers with his to the crotch of her bikini. The black material was soaked through. Richie smirked to himself, she’d have to change again before they left for the quarry. Or they could just not go at all.

Her own touch had elicited a moan from y/n. Her head fell back on the grey cushions, exposing her pure neck that begged to be marked. The sighs of pleasure coming from the girl beneath him while he directed her hand that was now slipping into the bottoms of her bikini felt straight from one of his fantasies. He could only hope he wasn’t dreaming, and if he were, he’d just have to remember it for another lonely night in the sheets.

y/n’s fingers danced over her clit. She inhaled sharply at the teasing feeling. Richie’s hand moved to tightly hold her wrist, the contact burned against her already hot skin. His mind was drawing a blank again; lost in the moment. Lost in her. Another moan left her mouth, her breath hit his face, and Richie imagined how she touched herself when she was away at school. Did she think about him the same way he thought about her? Did she wonder what lied behind his pants like how he had on multiple occasions?

For the time being, Richie’s questions would have to be left unanswered. He felt her hand leave her bathing suit and his hand detached itself from her wrist. A blotchy red handprint was left in its place from his harsh grip and before Richie could ask if she was okay, y/n was kicking off the at once restricting clothing. Her lower half was now completely revealed, all for him. Vulnerability, a feeling y/n had only felt on the plane ride alone to New York and on her first date with Trevor, took its rightful place in her chest that lifted and fell at a rapid speed. Her thighs instinctively rubbed together, part out of insecurity, and also to relieve herself, but Richie stopped them before they could make another move.

His right palm had settled on her left thigh, gently separating it from its counterpart while his left palm kept busy as it laid flat on her mattress and held him up. Richie’s index finger toyed with her clit, much like she had done before, and then probed her entrance. Her walls generously coated his first finger with the same nucleus that slicked her now tainted swimsuit. His middle finger entered with the same proficiency and care. Richie’s fingers were long and slender, and they did well to effortlessly curl into the spot that y/n could never seem to find on her own. Richie grunted at the sound of another pretty sound leaving y/n’s pretty lips. But this sound was different.

“Richie,” she moaned breathlessly. Richie, again, came painfully aware of the tent in his shorts. But this time was for y/n, not him.

In and out. In and out. His fingers moved at the relatively same, slow, and predictable pace that didn’t fail to evoke the dirty noises coming from y/n which might suggest otherwise. He continued these movements until her pulse picked up and a coil inside snapped.

Richie Tozier was y/n’s first orgasm.

And second, as he withdrew his hand from her, swapping his fingers for him. He stripped himself of his shorts so that the two now pressed together, even—this excluded the upper half of y/n that was still covered.

Richie hovered over the girl. The girl who moved next door at the ripe age of five, not knowing the impact she’d have on his life. The girl who crafted him and the Losers Club individual friendship bracelets that were tied around his wrist to this day. The girl who moved away too soon. The girl who’d share his first time with him. The girl he loved.

“Can I?” He asked timidly. The thumb and index finger of his right hand pinched at the black strap which prevented her top from falling down—which, ironically, was exactly what Richie wanted. y/n nodded. Her eyes were still shut from the intense euphoria she was still recovering from. First, Richie unclipped the back strap. Then, his hands moved to the thinner strap he’d tied earlier. His knees were holding him up, straddling over y/n’s waist. A wave of frustration overcame him when his fingers clumsily messed with the frocking double-knotted bow. A quiet mutter, “gotcha”, unintentionally rolled off of Richie’s tongue.

y/n giggled at his antics—not to make fun of him, but because he was cute.

The constrictive article of clothing fell from her bodice, uncovering her hardened nipples and flawless breasts.

Richie ducked his head down. Instead of meeting her lips, his mouth wrapped around the still perky bud. Licking, and sucking until breaths turned to whines and whines turned to his name.

Richie. Richie. Richie.

After giving both the same amount of attention, he kissed her. His lips brushed against hers and time felt like it had somehow stopped when y/n felt him enter her.

It was daunting at first. And Richie thumbed away a tear that raced down y/n’s cheek when she had finally taken his whole length.

“Tell me when you want me to move,” Richie murmured—his nose brushing against her cheekbone as he did so.

“Rich…Richie.”

“Yes, gorgeous?” y/n could melt at the nickname, but she didn’t; the rest of her senses too carried away in his intoxicating scent of Spice… Something… and the stimulation of him filling her.

“Can you move?” y/n asked in quiet, broken words.

Richie didn’t say anything. He just slipped out from her only to push back in. The sensation of her tight walls around him was enough to be the reason of his gasps and the resounding echoes of her name that pleasantly escaped his parted lips. His thrusts were steady and gradual—much like his fingers from earlier but… different.

y/n’s back arched into Richie’s front. Both of their pants quickened, and y/n didn’t have to ask to know what this meant.

“Richie,” y/n mewled. Richie’s pace accelerated, pulling them both to their highs. y/n’s eyes rolled back from under her heavy lids. On the other hand, the boy above her had frantically removed himself from her. She would finish on his fingers like once before and he didn’t need any more ushering to find his end.

“y/n.” The moan belonged to Richie this time, and he collapsed onto the newly soiled sheets next to the girl whose name he just spoke. “I love you.” Richie didn’t intend for the words to come out. They just did. He suspected y/n was none the wiser, still trying to catch her breath from when she came.

“What?”

Richie was wrong.

“I love you,” Richie repeated, but he hadn’t intended to say it again either. He was running on autopilot now. His eyes squeezed closed, preparing for y/n to yell at him. Why would you drop the bomb like this? To kick him out.

But she didn’t.

“I love you, too.” She wasn’t facing him, so he had to trust she meant the words. He had to trust she wasn’t actually repulsed at the thought of the guy who’d just stolen her virginity and would never talk to him afterward.

“You…you do?” Richie realized he was laying butt-naked on top of y/n’s sheets and he wouldn’t be shocked if his face were mistaken for a tomato right about now.

“Yeah.” The bed shifted under her turning weight because she was now laying on her side, facing him. Her eyes roamed his milky skin and her fingers apprehensively traced an outline on his arm. Richie didn’t think he would ever get used to her silk skin and feather fingertips. “You’re supposed to lose it to the person you love, right?”

Richie’s heart was already digging its grave. “Yeah.” He swallowed dryly. His hand found hers—the one that was inking an invisible fence on his skin—and weaved his fingers with hers. He didn’t know what else to say but he didn’t have to.

“You still wear this?” y/n was incredulous and judging by the tone of her voice, Richie figured she found the friendship bracelet he still wore. Treasured.

“It’d make me a monster to trash it.” Richie faced her now and y/n laughed whilst her pink lips grazed his knuckles.

“I still have mine.” She raised her eyebrow. Was this a challenge?

“Pish, posh, dahhling. Proof or it’s not real,” he said in his god-awful British-man Voice.

y/n let go of his hand, leaving it for the coldness to slowly eat away. She leapt off her bed and dashed to her desk. She opened one of the side drawers and fished around for a dinky little yarn bracelet that would match his, only she used red and yellow string rather than blue and green.

She skipped over to him, not caring that she was undressed or that they had to be somewhere. A braided bracelet, similar to his, dangled in front of Richie’s tired face and he smiled. Unlike Richie’s, y/n’s bracelet was in perfect condition—just like it had looked from when they were ten.

“I can make you another one,” y/n said, noticing how worn Richie’s was. It was almost falling apart.

“Nah. I like the rugged look.” Richie bared his teeth to her. It must’ve been the fifth time she laughed that day.

“Do you still wanna go?” y/n asked. She didn’t meet his gaze; too focused on slipping the bracelet over her hand. It seemed she had outgrown the thing.

“Go where?” Richie hummed and snaked his arms around her once more.

“The quarry.” His eyes widened and suddenly Richie didn’t feel tired anymore.

“Do we have to?” He whined as if he were still a child.

“I guess not.” y/n gave in; relaxing into his arms. “You can help me unpack.”

“Or…” Richie’s lips pecked her forehead.

“I guess there’s a reason why they call you Trashmouth.” y/n nuzzled into the crook of his neck. His fingers drew lazy shapes on her bare back in attempts to convince her. But y/n didn’t need convincing. Now that she found a home in his arms, she would never leave.

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intoanothermind · 4 years ago

Text

Beauty Queen - Chapter 9

B E A U T Y Q U E E N

Synopsis: You are the Ice Princess of Narnia during the Long Winter. Your sister Jadis, the White Witch, hates that you’re always helping Narnians escape prision. She decides to hunt you down and you have to run away from the palace. What happens when you find the four humans lost in Narnia?

- Edmund Pevensie x reader

Masterlist

—-

C H A P T E R N I N E

Y/N sneaked in through her bedroom window. It hadn’t been easy to walk for hours until she reached her old palace. Much less easy was going through the security of her denatured sister's wolf pack. At least Selena knew a good way to go through that garden with the stone statues. It was hard to see your friend Tumnus there, turned to stone. She wish she could undo the spell. The spell in him, and in many others she saw there. But she knew that it would only bring problem for her. She couldn't be seen. At least not before getting Edmund out of those dungeons.

Y/N looked around, realizing that her sister had searched her entire room, probably looking for evidence of her whereabouts. She shook your head in disapproval - her sister would never change, even after a hundred years of her trying it. It was always her who created chaos and problems and very possibly wouldn’t change. Y/N then wondered how she could have the same blood as that woman. Y/N shook head again, trying to get rid of those distracting thoughts. She ran to a painting upturned on the same wall as the door. Jadis had probably turned it over, thinking that something could be so obviously stored there.

Cruel, but naive.

Y/N put the painting in place, and created an outline of ice. A few whispered words in an unknown language, and there she could see some weapons. A second sword, a bow and arrow set, and a dagger. Y/N just took the dagger and cut off her long white dress. She was already getting tired of it. Then she put the dagger between the cloth of her dress, as she had done with the piece of glass, and went out the door towards the dungeons. There wasn’t many people in the hallways, and whoever she encountered she managed to outwit to reach Edmund cell.

“Eddie!” she called seeing the boy huddled in the farthest corner.

She knew she hadn't been emotionally prepared to see him. And this was proven when your heart rate accelerated considerably. But she just ignored that feeling as best as she could.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, happy to see her, and approached the bars. “What are you doing here?!”

“I came to get you out of here.” she said firmly, and looked around, searching for someone close by, but fortunately there wasn’t anyone.

Y/N sighed, relieved but tense. It was finally time to show Edmund who she really was.

“How?” asked Edmund.

“Just step back.” she simply said Edmund stepped away from the bars of the cell.

Y/N placed both hands in the grids, closed her eyes and breathed out slowly, concentrating. Her hands became colder and, gradually, thin lines of ice formed and spread around the metal. A beautiful spectacle - if Edmund wasn’t so stupefied. When the bars became frozen, Y/N opened her eyes again to observe Edmund's reaction. But there was none besides the eyes wide open.

“Sorry, Eddie, I should have said before that I was her sister.” she, lowering her head right.

But then she felt her chin lift and saw Edmund much closer, his face glued to the frozen bars and his arm out, bringing her face closer to his.

“I bet you must be thinking that I'm an evil or something.” she whispered softly dulled by this approximation it.

“Not at all. I'm just thinking that you would be a better queen.” he whispered back and the touched her lips with his.

Just a touch of lips, the maximum that the distance from the bars allowed, but it was enough to bring several sensations to Y/N. But then a noise woke her from her state of numbness and she separated from Edmund to see the end of the hallway. Nobody was there, but there was the sound of footsteps far away. Y/N jumped up and tried to take the sword to break the frozen bars, but Edmund prevented her from doing it.

“There is no time, go!” Edmund said in desperation.

“I have to get you out of here!”

“Let's find another way. They just can't get you here, they'll kill you!”

Y/N had only a single second to think, as the steps approached them. It would serve no purpose, either to help Edmund or to fight in the coming war, if she got caught. She gave another peck on Edmund lips and ran the opposite direction. The Witch appeared - along with dwarf and some wolves - seconds after Y/N disappeared and paralysed when she saw Edmund’s cell. No one would freeze the bars like that except her little sister.

“She was here, wasn't she?” she asked in a firm and angry voice. Edmund flinched, not wanting to answer, but she saw a gleam in his eyes. “That little bitch... AFTER HER, NOW!”

Y/N could hear her sister's fierce cry. But she was far enough away.

~ * ~

“We are not to blame if she ran away!” Susan insisted.

“She didn’t ran away!” defended Lucy.

They had been arguing since they woke up and realized Y/N was missing. Susan still insisted that she wasn’t to be trusted, but Lucy defended her. She didn’t know why she had such affection for the princess, but she wouldn’t allow Susan to insult her.

“I'm sure Y/N wouldn't have run away like that.” add Peter.

“You too, Peter?!” asked Susan, dissatisfied.

“Y/N is very just.” said the beaver. “If she disappeared, there must be a good reason for that.”

Susan snorted in disgust. “There is never a good reason for that.”

They stopped then on a cliff, where on the right there was a glow of the sun on the horizon, illuminating peaks in the distance, on the banks of a great frozen river.

“The Aslan's camp is near the Stone Table...” said the beaver. “across the frozen river.”

“River?” asked Peter, surprised.

“Well... It's been frozen for a hundred years.”

“It's huge...” said Peter, narrowing his eyes.

“Just like our world...” said Mrs. Beaver. “Did you think it was small?”

“Smaller.” Susana said, looking contemptuously at Peter, blaming him and following the path they should follow.

~ * ~

Y/N paused on her walk and took the opportunity to have a look at Edmund. She didn’t know what Jadis would have done, and she prayed that she hadn’t yet decided that the boy was disposable. Y/N sat down by a tree, and took out the glass of ice.

Edmund was dragged by the dwarf and his whip to the courtyard where he remembered seeing the statues that seemed too accomplished. He was startled when he saw that they were more than realistic; they were real. Faun Tumnus was standing there, his scarf wrapped around his neck and an expression of pity.

“I'm waiting...” said the Witch in her sledge. “Son of Adam.” completed contemptuously.

“Let's go!” cried the dwarf, pushing him.

They entered the sledge, which quickly started to move, dragging itself through the snow that started to melt.

Y/N sighed, relieved that he was fine, as far as possible. But then she heard a howl. Not the mirror in as it wasn’t reflecting anything anymore. The howl came from the forest.

Maugrin's pack had caught up with her.

#edmund #edmund pevensie #edmund pevensie imagine #edmund pevensie x reader #narnia #The Chronicles of Narnia #narnia imagines #chronicles of narnia #edmund x reader #peter pevensie #peter pevensie x reader #susan pevensie x reader #susan pevensie #lucy pevensie #lucy pevensie x reader #pevensie #aslam #beauty queen

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19tozier · 5 years ago

Text

lookalike pt. two (bill denbrough)

part two of this imagine

warnings: angst, swearing, but a hopeful ending!

[losers&reader are 17/18 in this]

bill denbrough, you have found, is not an easy person to love. loving him is the hardest thing you’ve ever done.

it burns inside of you, burrowing into your heart and into your stomach until you feel hollow with it. sometimes, you want nothing more than to scrape yourself free from it, but you don’t think you could; it would destroy you as well. but loving bill the way that you do is going to destroy you, too.

you’ve been avoiding him even harder after your fight, coldly ignoring his every attempt to talk to you or even look at you. you thought you’d have to avoid the other losers at times, too, but they’ve made it clear that they understand. you don’t know how they found out, but you know they know what bill said. and you know they’re upset about it. they’re almost as angry as you are.

and god, are you angry. you have to force yourself not to think about what bill said or else your rage will choke you, thick and cloying and hot in your throat. at inopportune times, his words will play through your mind, and your blood begins to boil.

however, your life hasn’t changed much. you were already avoiding bill to begin with, so not seeing him at all hasn’t really done anything. you still go on dates with jacob, trying not to feel guilty when you look at his smile, and you hang out with the losers whenever you are certain bill won’t be there. there’s a hole in your life and your heart where he should be but slowly, you think you are beginning to grow numb to that absence.

of course that’s when it comes crashing down around you.

foolishly, you had been certain jacob had been none the wiser to the tension inside you. you’d never told him that you had stopped being friends with bill, after all, and you’d even brought the losers along to meet jacob on one of your movie dates. you had thought that things were as perfect as they could get between you two.

he’s already leaning against your locker when the final bell rings one day, fidgeting with the straps of his backpack. he doesn’t return your smile when you greet him, nor does he go to wrap you up in a hug the way that he usually does. instead, he sighs and looks down at his shoes.

“can we talk?” he asks you quietly, his eyes sliding to where richie and eddie are waiting for both of you a few steps down the hall. “alone?”

you swallow, a cold feeling settling in the pit of your stomach. you wave the boys on, trying to smile as reassuringly as possible when they both look concerned. judging by the look richie gives you, it’s shaky at best and downright worrying at worst.

you follow jacob outside, your heart rate spiking even more when he leads you to the place where you and bill had your fight just a few short weeks ago. seemingly oblivious to your anxiety, he sits on the wall where bill had waited for you, and hesitantly, you sit beside him. the few inches between you feel as cavernous as miles.

for a long moment, neither of you talk. you stare down at the sidewalk, your palms sweating against your thighs. you’re about to bite the bullet and ask what’s wrong when jacob murmurs, “i think we need to break up.”

your heart freezes inside your chest. it sits there, colder than you’ve ever been, spreading numb out through your veins as you shakily whisper, “what?”

jacob doesn’t look at you. “i think we need to break up,” he repeats, slightly louder and slightly stronger.

part of you had known this was coming, and that part had honestly been waiting for it to happen. but that part is not the majority, and you are so blindsided that your lips tremble enough that you almost can’t talk. “but... why?”

he sighs, and finally he meets your gaze. he looks sad and resigned, a frown curling the edges of his mouth, but there is something in the set of his shoulders that looks lighter. more free. “we don’t like each other the same way,” he whispers. “and i think i’ve always known that, but i don’t think i can stay with it anymore.”

every word he says spears into your heart. you feel almost sick with guilt and desperation. “jacob, i do like you, i don’t understand—“

“not in the same way,” he interrupts, gently but firmly. “i really like you, (y/n), but you’ve always had feelings for someone else. and that’s okay, really. it’s not your fault. but it’s not fair to either of us.”

the tears you have been trying to suppress finally make themselves known, trickling slowly down your cheeks. you make no move to wipe them away. “how did you know?”

he smiles, soft and small and sad. “i have eyes, y’know,” he murmurs to you. you don’t deserve his kindness, especially now. “it didn’t take a genius to figure out.”

your heart is unthawing, only for fractures to spread through the ice. you can feel it breaking in your chest, slowly but surely with every word he says. “i really do like you,” you rasp. you want to grab his hand but you don’t think you’ll be allowed. “i need you to know that. and i never, ever cheated on you.”

jacob blows out a breath, tilting his head back to stare at the sky. “i do know that, (y/n). i know you like me and i know you’d never hurt me like that. but it’s not really enough, is it?”

he doesn’t say it to be an accusation but you feel it like it is one. your heart splits jaggedly in two. “no,” you whisper. “it’s not.”

you are both silent for several minutes. the bustle of your classmates leaving school for the day continues around you, all of them oblivious to the turmoil inside you. no one has even glanced at you or jacob, even if you feel like there is a neon sign pointing directly to your conversation. lookie here, folks, karma always comes to collect its debt!

“can we still be friends?” your voice is small. your fingers are twisted together in your lap hard enough that they ache. “i don’t want to completely lose you from my life, jake.”

jacob sighs, shaking his head slightly. “i don’t know,” he admits. “i don’t want to lose you either but i think it would hurt too much to just be your friend right now.” he pauses, then gently reaches to bump your shoulder with his own. he gives you a watery smile. “maybe eventually, though.”

there is a note of finality in his words. this is the ending you had been building towards from the moment it all began, and you had been foolish to think otherwise. you had already lost bill, and now you were losing jacob as well.

he gives you a nod, trying to smile again, and then he stands up and walks away. he doesn’t look back.

almost as soon as he’s left, you feel two other people sit down, one on either side of you. you can’t see through the tears blurring your vision but you know that it’s eddie and richie, come to try and comfort you. you don’t say anything, just turn your head into eddie’s shoulder and let yourself cry. they don’t ask, but you hope they understand anyways. you wouldn’t be able to explain if they didn’t.

***

it takes you a little while, but eventually, things start to get better.

the other losers are the best friends you really could’ve ever asked for. bev helps you talk all your feelings out and cry all you want to; stan and mike help you study and keep you from noticing all of your extra free time; ben brings you sweet little gifts, flowers and chocolate and candy, to make you smile on days you don’t feel like doing so; eddie and richie make you laugh with their antics and hug you whenever you need it.

but there’s still that hole left behind where bill was, the one that you desperately try not to think about.

you still haven’t talked to him. you know he knows that you and jacob broke up, because it feels like your entire school knows by now, but you don’t know if you’re ready to face that. you’re still so angry with him but you also miss your best friend.

you’re sitting in between eddie and stan one day at lunch, giggling at something mike said, when richie leans across the table and whispers, “come outside with me?”

he’s flicking his pack of cigarettes in his hand, and even though you don’t smoke you’d never pass up the opportunity to hang out with your favorite trashmouth. you pat stan’s shoulder, ruffle eddie’s hair, and follow richie out the huge double doors.

there’s already someone sitting against the wall in richie’s usual smoking spot, and you turn to say something to richie only to notice richie’s disappeared. you swing around wildly to look for him, and that’s when you realize the person sitting against the wall is bill.

you are struck with sudden deja vu for the day of your fight. you hope this doesn’t destroy you more.

he offers you a small smile, patting the concrete next to him. “c-can w-we talk?”

your heart races at the sound of his voice but you force yourself to keep your face blank. you carefully sit beside him, leaving several inches between your thighs. you don’t look at him at all.

he sighs, his hands balling into fists in his lap. “d-don’t b-be m-m-mad at r-richie. i a-asked h-him to b-b-bring you o-out h-here.”

“why?” your voice is cold and impassive, and you watch him flinch out of the corner of your eye.

he swallows. “s-so i c-could a-apologize t-to y-y-you.”

it makes your heart race for an entirely different reason. you almost crack and turn to look at him, maybe to see how sincere he is, but you’re scared that doing so will make you forget why you’re angry. already, the feeling is melting away at having him by your side again. “i’m listening.”

almost as if a dam has been broken, he tilts his shoulders to face you. his words come out choppy and fast, his stutter infinitely worse than you’ve ever heard it. “i-i-i-i’m s-s-so-oh suh-suh-suh-sor-ry. i-i-i-i wuh-was s-s-s-stupid a-a-and m-m-m-m-m—f-f-fuck—“

without your conscious effort, your hand shoots out to wrap around his wrist. both of you freeze, staring down at the point of contact. you want to pull it away and take it back but something inside of you has unlocked at the feeling of his skin against yours.

“calm down,” you murmur, still staring down at your hand. “it’s just me.”

bill draws in a ragged breath, his shoulders trembling with the force of it. his wrist flexes within your grip but he doesn’t pull away. “i-i-i’m s-s-sorry,” he whispers, now slightly calmer. “i-i’m s-s-so s-s-sorry, (y/n). i-i s-shouldn’t h-h-have s-s-s-said t-that. a-any o-of i-i-it.”

you nod, slowly. “so why did you?” you ask, your voice low. “because that hurt, bill. i was so fucking mad at you. i am so fucking mad at you.”

he makes a wounded noise, deep in his throat, and the hand still in your grasp curls into a fist. “y-y-you s-s-should b-be,” he croaks. “i-i w-was a d-dick. i-it d-doesn’t e-e-excuse it, b-but i-i w-w-was... i w-was j-j-jealous.”

it’s not really news to you, since bill had admitted he liked you in the same breath he used to tell you to break up with jacob, but it still makes your blood thrum through your veins. he’s right, it’s no excuse at all, and your anger will likely simmer inside of you for a while to come, but the worst of it is disappearing.

you sigh, finally turning your head to look at him. he’s already looking back, his eyes wide and sad, his expression destroyed. you let go of his wrist but don’t move away from him.

“why didn’t you apologize sooner?” you ask quietly.

he shrugs, giving you a small smile. “i-i d-didn’t th-think y-you w-w-wanted to h-h-hear f-from m-me.”

he’s not wrong; you probably would’ve punched him if he’d talked to you sooner. you nod, looking down at your lap. “i’m still mad at you,” you repeat. “that was fucked up, bill. you just expected me to break up with jacob because you asked me to. you realize how awful that is, right?”

bill blows out a long sigh, nodding his head. “s-stan n-n-nearly k-killed m-me f-f-for i-it,” he admits. “i-i th-th-thought b-ben a-a-actually w-would.” he pauses, and then says, again, “i-i’m s-s-sorry, (y/n).”

you turn to look at him again; he still hasn’t looked away from you. “i don’t know how to forgive you for that,” you confess quietly.

his expression turns anguished, but he doesn’t look surprised. he bites his lip, tucking his chin down into his chest. “c-can w-we s-s-start o-over? i-i-i d-don’t m-mean f-f-forgetting w-w-what i-i d-did. i-i j-just w-w-want t-to e-earn y-y-your t-trust b-b-back.”

it sounds too easy, but as you look at him, you’re shocked by the longing inside of you. you want your best friend back, you want to go back to the days where it was you and bill against the world. and if this is how you’ll get there, then you’ll absolutely take it, if it means you get to have him again.

you swallow and smile, shakily. “yeah, bill,” you breathe. “i’d like that.”

he smiles back at you before he sticks his hand out between you. as you stare down at it in confusion, he nudges your shoulder with his own. “h-hi, i-i’m b-b-bill.”

it makes something warm curl in your chest. you throw your head back and laugh, hearing him laugh along with you. you take his hand in yours, shaking it fondly. “i’m (y/n),” you grin.

maybe that day didn’t ruin anything at all, you think, as he offers you a hand up and holds the door open for both of you to go back to lunch. maybe there wasn’t actually any bomb and you and bill will eventually be okay.

as you rejoin the losers, as you watch stan bully bill relentlessly, as bill smiles at you shyly across the table, you are certain you will be.

#bill denbrough #bill denbrough imagine #bill denbrough x reader #bill denbrough x you #the losers club #the losers club x reader #the losers club imagine #it (2017)#it (2019)#it (movie)#it movie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #stan uris #ben hanscom #mike hanlon #beverly marsh #my writing

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tr4shmouth-tozi3r · 6 years ago

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‘What are you, jealous?” - richie tozier x reader

requested: yes & I love this one as well, jealous Richie is just so hot😍 I also appreciate that u trusted me to do this justice with such a vague request, I hope you enjoy this because I definitely enjoyed writing it:)

summary: Richie loved you and sometimes he loved you a little too much. So much that he would let his imagination get the best of him and then he’d find himself feeling a little jealous. You didn’t mind it all the time, though; jealous Richie was hot.

you guys are like 17 here.

pairing: richie tozier x reader

warnings: swearing, angst, lil bit of smut;)

“H-H-Here, luh-let m-m-me help yuh-y-you.” Bill grabbed some of the books you were struggling to keep hold of in your arms. Your backpack was practically falling off of your shoulder. You sighed in relief and smiled at your friend.

“Thanks, Bill.” You handed some of your school books to him and all of a sudden you heard your boyfriend’s voice ring out in the cold fall air.

“Hey, babe!” His face was flustered and his jaw was clenched slightly. He looked worked up.

“Hey, Rich!” You smiled widely at him and let him envelope you in tight hug, before your face fell, “What’s up, you look upset?”

“Nothing, it’s nothing.” He mumbled as he tore your books out of Bill’s hands, “I got it, bud.” He flashed a sarcastic smile in Bill’s direction and you mentally laughed at how silly your boyfriend was being. Bill shook his head in amusement and said his goodbyes to you both before running off toward the front doors.

“What was tha-” Before you could finish your sentence his lips were pressing so hard against yours you thought they were going to bruise.

“Nothing..” He whispered, out of breath, as he pulled away from you. You blinked fast, trying to regain your composure and steady your breathing.

“Well, shit.” You swallowed the lump in your throat and blushed at your boyfriend who was smirking down at you.

This was not the last time today that Richie would find himself fuming with jealousy over you and Bill.

You had lunch period with Bill, Eddie, and Bev and Richie would try his hardest to sneak out of class sometimes and come visit you, which you thought was absolutely adorable.

Bill was telling a story about something funny Richie had pulled on Eddie a few summers back before you met them and you couldn’t help but laugh so hard you almost spit your milk out everywhere. You clutched Bill’s arm as the fits of giggles took over you.

“I remember that!” Bev cackled loudly and clutched her stomach, “Holy shit, I’m gonna cry, that’s hilarious! I totally forgot that happened!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, sooo funny guys.” Eddie rolled his eyes so hard you were surprised they didn’t fall right out of their sockets.

“What’s so funny?” You practically felt Richie’s eyes burning holes through your hand that was clutching Bill’s arm. You let go and squeezed your eyes shut before sighing as the rest of the table quieted down. You already knew he was in a jealous mood ever since this morning and that arm grab totally wasn’t helping your case.

“Bill had to go and bring up that time a few years back at the town parade when you made a fool out of me in front of everyone and had me dressed up like an idiot in the parade, which by the way, we weren’t even supposed to be in...” He grumbled.

“Wow, I even forgot about that.” Richie laughed, but it was a forced laugh. You had to admit, your boyfriend was totally overdramatic, but sometimes you couldn’t help but notice how hot he was when he was jealous.

“It wuh-was a p-pi-pi-pivotal moment i-i-in our fuh-f-friend g-gr-group, I h-h-had to r-r-reflect on i-it.” Bill spoke in amusement and Richie snorted at him.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Richie was definitely not amused. He squished his way between you and Bill and the awkward silence that fell over the five of you was not something you could ignore.

Oh boy...

You and Richie were walking to the quarry so you could hangout for a bit after school. He knew how much you hated going right home. Your parents had been fighting quite often lately and it was beginning to stress you out a lot more than usual. You were almost certain there was a divorce in the near future and the thought of your parents splitting up devastated you.

“G-G-Guys!” You both twirled around to see Bill biking his way over to you. You didn’t need to look at Richie to know his jaw was clenching like it always did whenever he was worked up, “Y-Y-You fuh-f-forgot y-y-your h-hi-history buh-b-b-book at l-lunch, y/n.” Bill was out of breath from riding his bike so fast to catch up with the two of you and you smiled warmly at him as you grabbed the textbook from his hand.

“Thanks, Bill.”

“Yeah, thanks Bill.” Richie’s voice came out in a high-pitched whine and you raised an eyebrow at him.

“I do not sound like that.”

“Uhhh…” Bill slowly turned around as the two of you began to bicker and he rode off before he could get anymore involved in the mess.

“Yeah, well that’s what you sound like whenever Bill’s around.” He was being so genuine that you stepped back away from him for a moment.

“What are you, jealous?” He stayed quiet and didn’t answer for a moment, “You’re actually serious right now?”

He shuffled his feet and looked down before sighing angrily, “Yeah, you know, he does things that I’m supposed to do for you. He carries your stuff, he makes you laugh to the point you’re literally holding onto him. He holds your things that you forget at lunch, all day long and then chases you down after school to give them to you. That's... that's boyfriend stuff. Stuff that I should be doing and it drives me absolutely crazy when it’s not me, but it’s him instead and you just don’t even realize how much it bothers me. For fuck sake, you might as well date Bill!” He threw his hands up in the air, emphasizing his words and you felt like he might have had a point. Bill was harmless, though. He would never do anything to hurt you and Richie’s relationship. Atleast, not on purpose. Richie really could let his imagination get the best of him sometimes.

“Rich-”

“No, I already know what you’re going to say and fuck, I know, I know. It still drives me crazy,” He stepped closer to you, grabbing your hips and digging his fingernails into them, “But I hate feeling like someone else has you the way I have you, because you’re mine and no one else’s and I’ll be damned if I let someone else do the things I should be doing for you.” He leaned into you, breathing against your lips. You could tell he was super worked up because his heart was practically beating out of his chest and against you and his face was flushed and... and he was turned on?

You clenched your legs together and inhaled a shaky breath, trying to register exactly how this got so hot so fast, “Rich, babe, are you turned on?” You let a small smile tug at your lips and you watched as he licked his lips.

“I mean, all this built up frustration had to come out somehow and I guess it chose to come out sexually. Why,” He let his breath mingle with yours, “Does that bother you?” He whispered and he reached up letting his hand cup your face and his thumb ran over your cheek softly as you shut your eyes and hummed sweetly.

“No, not at all.” You yelped suddenly, feeling his cold fingers slide up and under the skirt you had put on this morning, deciding you might as well wear it one last time before it got super cold. You were definitely thankful you had chosen to wear it.

“R-Richie.. we’re at the quarry, this is totally not the place.”

“Oh, c’mon, it’ll be fun,” He mumbled into your skin as he planted hot wet kisses along your neck, “And no one else ever comes here, especially in this weather. It’s just me and you.” You swallowed suddenly, your throat becoming dry from the way your breathing had picked up.

“Okay fine, I don't even care. You’re driving me nuts.” He smirked at the way you grinded your hips up, trying desperately to create some sort of friction and he leaned away, snaking his hand passed the band of your panties.

You moaned as his fingers ran along your folds, “You’re so wet, babe.” He cooed.

“What can I say, jealous Richie turns me on a lot more than I would have thought. I should make you jealous more often, huh?” You purred against his lips and he plunged a finger inside of you.

“Don’t make me mad.” His voice was low and his eyes were dilated and god, he was sexy.

“If you don’t want me to make you mad or jealous, then stopping being so sexy when you’re either of those things.” You bit your lip and let a soft moan escape your throat as he added another finger, sliding them into you further this time.

“Well, if it’s going to end like this I might have to be okay with that, huh?” He whispered before pulling his fingers out of you and reaching down to undo his pants.

“Yes, yes, yes.”

So, this was short and I could have totally done better, but I’m trying to work on the requests as fast as possible. I’m sorry if the anon that requested this was not pleased with it, but I think it could have been a lot worse. Looool.

The rest of the requests will be up within the next few hours, bare with me here:’)

#jealous richie #this is actually hot af #richie tozier #richie tozier x reader #richie tozier smut #richie #finn #finn wolfhard #it imagines #personal requests #request #it fanfic #hope u enjoyed #this sorta sucked #totally hate myself #I tried

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izupie · 4 years ago

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I’ve been writing a Reddie fantasy creature / AU but I’ve got so far with it and I’m running out of steam, so instead of forcing it and not enjoying it, I’m just going to post what I’ve got so far ! I really enjoyed writing what I did though. One day I hope I’ll finish it and post it on AO3, but I might just stick it in a collection of unfinished stories at some point~

The idea was inspired by a prompt on Instagram and the old wives tale that cats can see ghosts - they say that when cats are looking really intensely at seemingly nothing, they’re really seeing a ghost. So each of the Losers would be a different fantasy creature, with Eddie being a cat that was a witch’s familiar, (but when they leave their witch they’re cursed with a human form to show that they’ve broken their commitment) and Richie’s a ghost that only he can see and touch. (He’s really just Actual Richie caught in the Deadlights, crossing partially over into another universe for a little while, which is why he’s all ghostly, but he has no memory of the world he’s come from, feels like the others are strangely familiar, and he can’t leave Mike’s bar.)

It was really self-indulgent (as all my AUs are) ahaha

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Eddie heaved a sigh as he all but fell onto the bar stool. It was a testament to how far he’d walked in the last few days, and how sick he was of camping, that he didn’t even care that the stool creaked noisily at his weight, and that his travelling cloak seemed to stick to the wood as he shuffled to try and make himself more comfortable. (To no success.) (No, his ass wasn’t bony, he was just going to blame it all on the terrible design of flat, hard seats that do nothing for either comfort or alignment of the spine.)

There was a man behind the bar, wiping a metal flagon with a rag, and Eddie desperately tried to not think of the rapid multiplication of bacteria within damp cloth. The bartender had long elven ears, dark skin, and an easy smile that he flashed at Eddie as he made his way over. His expression was open and friendly, and he said, “What can I get for you, traveller?”, in a deep, melodic tone of voice that made Eddie immediately want to offload his whole life story instead of what he wanted to drink. He thankfully managed to keep a lid on his lifetime of trauma and mistreatment and instead replied, “Glass of milk, thanks,” in what he hoped was the confidence of someone used to sitting in bars and ordering drinks and definitely wasn’t travelling alone for the first time in their life.

If he expected a reaction to ordering a glass of milk from a bar, he didn’t receive any, and the bartender just smiled and nodded. “Coming right up,” he said in his honey-smooth voice as he turned away.

Eddie pulled down the hood of his travelling cloak and sighed in relief as his pointed cat ears sprang free from beneath the material. He rummaged within the leather bag around his hip for a small bottle and pulled out the tiny cork with a satisfying pop. There wasn’t much of the potion left, he thought reticently, and the only witch he knew he’d left a long way back from here... But he had to keep his hands clean. Eddie frowned and his tail swished as he poured a few drops of the bright blue liquid onto his hands, then rubbed them vigorously before he stoppered the bottle once more and stowed it away again. The bartender still hadn’t returned yet, and nobody else seemed to be paying him any attention, so he licked his palms and drew them down the velvety soft fur on both of his ears. That felt better.

There were only five other customers that Eddie could see – all playing a game of cards around a large table in the corner of the room. The building wasn’t especially big, so he could hear snippets of their good-natured heckling to each other from his seat, with one voice significantly louder than the others. Eddie placed his elbows on the counter as he tried to get a better look at them – but he felt something wet and cold seep through the thin fabric of his cloak as soon as his elbow touched the surface, and he snatched his arm back with a soft hiss, flattening his ears and nearly losing his balance on the stool. He glared down at the wood, as if it had personally offended him, and then returned his attention to the others.

Only four of the five were sitting at the table with a hand of cards. Nearest to Eddie was a Satyr, judging by the dark brown furred goat legs and the two shining, curved horns on his head. He had neatly trimmed facial hair and wore an openly worried expression (he didn’t seem particularly good at bluffing). Next to him was a man sitting ramrod straight in his chair (good posture, Eddie noted) with sandy brown curly hair, looking shrewdly over his glasses at the rest of the group. Every so often two huge tawny coloured feathery wings would twitch behind him where they were folded in against his back. A woman next to him winked at the Satyr as she said something that Eddie didn’t catch, while her bright red hair flashed like a flame as she tilted her head back and laughed, revealing two long fangs. The only other male at the table gestured for quiet and examined his cards more carefully. He also had two horns on his head, protruding just under his greying hairline, but they were obsidian black, long and thin, and matched the thick scaly tail swishing back and forth across the floorboards while he thought. Eddie blinked in surprise. It was the strangest group he’d ever seen.

The only other person there chattered excitedly behind the Dragon and interrupted Eddie’s observations. He whistled loudly.

“Oh, Big Bill’s got an amazing hand. Nobody fall for his bluffs, he’s lying through his teeth. Guys, c’mon!” The guy gestured violently toward ‘Big Bill’s’ cards and moved around the table, peering closely at the others’ hands. “Stanley. Stanley. Do not let Bill walk out of this place with all this money again. For me.”

Eddie couldn’t believe that this guy was providing such an obnoxiously loud running commentary on the game, and yet nobody was reacting. He moved around the table and practically leant his chin on the Vampire’s shoulder as he loudly read out her hand, but she didn’t even blink. He stood back to his full height (Eddie realised that he was tall) and folded his arms across his chest (tall and broad) and he heaved a huge sigh as he watched the others. (Tall and broad and sad.) Only then did Eddie notice how strange his clothing was – he’d never seen a shirt that shade of bright blue before. And there were small pink birds patterned all over it too. His black hair was messy and unkempt, and he had such strange looking glasses on. Maybe he was from a different Kingdom?

The dragon slammed his hand down with a raucous cheer and Eddie’s attention returned to the game. The others threw their cards onto the table with groans of disappointment.

“I fucking told you all! Jesus. I can’t believe you fell for Bill’s bluffing again. Or maybe you’re all just bad at cards,” the strange man mused, “we all know Benny Boy can’t keep a straight face to save his life…” He continued ranting whilst the others chatted amongst themselves and threw down bags of coins that the dragon scooped towards himself.

“Sorry to keep you.” The bartender’s sudden return shocked Eddie enough to make him jump. His ears flattened against his skull and he willed the fur on his tail to lie flat again before anyone in the room noticed it bushed up. Eddie knew he was scowling, but the bartender just smiled pleasantly and placed a glass of white liquid in front of him. “Fresh milk,” he announced.

Eddie looked down at the milk, back up at the bartender’s smile, and considered the amount of time he’d been gone for. “Fresh… as in… fresh milk?”

“Can’t get any fresher.”

Eddie gagged and pushed the glass away. “Pass.”

The bartender laughed heartily. “I’m kidding. I don’t keep milk in the bar, but my cabin’s not far from here and I grabbed some out of the larder. It’s fresh, but it’s been sterilized, don’t worry.” There was a bright gleam to his eyes that melted away most of Eddie’s irritation, but his tail (no longer looking like he got struck by lightning) still swished a little angrily behind him.

He took a tentative sip, spurred on by thirst and an innate feeling that this elf was trustworthy, and sighed with relief at the cold creamy taste that slid deliciously down his throat. He grabbed a few coins out of his leather bag and placed them on the bar, making sure his fingers didn’t touch any of the mystery liquid that he’d accidentally dipped his elbow in before.

“Thanks,” he said.

“You’re welcome, traveller. Hey, what’s your name anyway? Mine’s Mike.”

Eddie narrowed his eyes, took another sip of milk, and finally replied, “Eddie.”

“Well met, Eddie. Feel free to stay as long as you want, Maturin only knows I don’t get many visitors.” Mike went to move away but Eddie stopped him with a jerk of his head in the direction of the group in the corner.

“Hey, uh- interesting group over there.”

Mike smiled again, but this time it really tugged at the corners of his eyes. “They’re my favourite group of people in the whole of The Eight Kingdoms,” was all he said, as they rose from the table and made their way over. Which left Eddie just as clueless as before since his poor attempt at prompting hadn’t worked.

Mike laughed as they all took seats at the bar. “Don’t tell me, Bill won again.”

“Of course!” Bill crowed, his scaly black tail lifting into the air behind him. “If anyone can b-bl-bluff their way out of anything, it’s a writer. There was that whole m-m-murder mystery I wrote last year, set around a card game. I’ve been on a winning streak since th-then.”

“Ever humble, Big Bill!” The strangely dressed guy in the glasses laughed. “Yikes, man.”

“That means drinks are on Bill today,” the Vampire said, seemingly ignoring that comment, as she tapped the bar beside Eddie excitedly. “You want another, stranger? Bill’s paying with our hard-earned coin that he swindled from us.” She grinned and her fangs glinted in the candlelight.

“Uh…” Eddie started, unsure about the sudden acknowledgement of his presence.

“Sorry,” the Satyr said gently, in a pleasantly raspy kind of voice, “we get like this when we’re together.”

“Or some of us do anyway,” the man with the feathery wings added. The soft sound of rustling feathers followed his every movement as he took off his gold framed glasses. With his glasses off it made him look younger somehow, though his bird-like eyes were still piercing as he regarded Eddie with a slightly tilted head like a bird.

“I’m Ben,” the Satyr went on.

“-Sweet, sensitive Benny-Boy,” the glasses guy sighed.

“That’s Stan…”

“-My man, Stan the Man. Even if he could hear my jokes, he still wouldn’t laugh at them-”

“This is Bev…”

“-Nobody has the right to be this hot and not have a pulse-”

“And Bill.”

“-Good at everything in that kinda way that makes everyone want to follow everything he says, but also in the kinda way that makes me want to punch him in the face just a little bit.”

Eddie snorted an unexpected laugh and quickly tried to pass it off as a cough.

“Sorry- my name’s Eddie.”

At the chorus of ‘nice to meet you’s and ‘well met’s from the group Eddie was vaguely aware that the other man hadn’t been introduced at all, and that still nobody had reacted to any of his comments. Eddie couldn’t stop his eyes from glancing over, but he was already looking back, so their gazes locked for a second. Warmth sprang to his cheeks at the realisation he’d been caught. He pretended to cough again as he pointedly kept his eyes away, squirming in his seat with his embarrassment, and tried not to think about the confused expression he’d seen on the other man’s face as their eyes had met.

He focused on the realisation that none of them had drawn any attention to his cat ears. Although he’d already started figuring out that most of what Myra told him had been lies, it still stung to have it confirmed almost daily by every new experience. It was a sad, twisted truth that his own witch had been deliberately lying to him his whole life about everything.

He took another sip of milk and placed the glass back on the bar as he couldn’t help but let his attention wander back to the man from before, while the others all chattered and ordered drinks off Mike. His magnified dark eyes were opened wide behind his glasses as their gazes met again. Hadn’t he looked away at all? What was he staring at? His ears? Eddie’s tail twitched in a show of his irritation, wondering if he should take back everything he’d just been thinking. What was this guy’s deal? Well, if he was going to stare, so was he. Eddie defiantly lifted his chin and looked straight at him, willing him to make a comment. But the guy glanced around, as if checking there was nobody else around him that Eddie could be looking at. His eyes were still opened wide and his breathing sped up as he raised a slow and shaky hand to point to himself, raising his eyebrows as if to say, ‘…me?’. Eddie’s ears twitched and his own eyebrows pulled together sharply, as if to reply, ‘uh, yeah, who else?’.

“You can…” the guy started, then swallowed loudly and took a deep breath. “You can see me?”

Eddie felt something cold settle low in his gut, understanding beginning to finally dawn on him. “No,” he snapped.

“Holy fuck! You can see me!”

“No!” Eddie yelled loudly, jumping off the stool and hissing. “No, I can’t!”

“Yes you can! Yes you can! Holy shit! Fuck!”

“Eddie?” Mike asked gently. “Are you okay?”

The others looked at him warily, while Richie moved closer – seemingly caught somewhere between awe and relief.

“No- Yes! - I mean…”

Bill held his palms up as if calming a wild animal. “Hey, what’s going on?”

Eddie sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’ve gotta be kidding me that this is the one thing she didn’t lie about… how was I supposed to know… never thought I’d meet…”

“My name’s Richie!” the guy nearly yelled, excitement bursting out of his voice. “Richie Tozier. Hey look, you’ve gotta help me. This is insane,” he laughed wetly, and Eddie realised he was crying. “I can’t believe you can see me. I’ve waited so long to have somebody fucking, just, reply to me, man.”

(Can ghosts cry? Apparently so.)

“Eddie?” Mike repeated, as unaware as the others at the second half of the conversation that was going on.

The mood of the room had completely changed; the others were looking at him like Myra had always told him they would. A hot spike of shame ran through him and Eddie hissed softly at them, his ears lying flat. “I’m not bad luck.”

Bev shook her head, her expression sad. “Nobody said you are, honey, just calm down and tell us what’s going on.”

“You can see him, can’t you?” Stan spoke softly, but it cut through the chaos.

“Stan?! What the fuck, you can see me too?” Richie whirled on him and pointed an accusatory finger.

“You can see him too?” Eddie echoed.

“No. But I had my suspicions. Just, a voice I could hear sometimes. A glimpse of someone out of the corner of my eyes.” Stan ruffled his wings and folded his arms. “I figured this bar was haunted.”

“And you never said anything?” Richie wiped at his face. “I’ve been going crazy talking to everyone with absolutely nothing back this whole time and you knew I was here?”

“Wait, haunted? There’s someone else in the room?” Ben looked alarmed.

“Can someone explain what’s going on?” Mike looked between Eddie and Stan.

Eddie sighed and resisted the urge to massage his temples. “Cats can see ghosts,” he explained in a strained voice.

“Eddie here just became my new best friend, that’s what’s going on.” Richie sidled up to Eddie’s side so swiftly he didn’t have time to react before he had slung an arm over his shoulder.

Eddie hissed and ducked away but Richie was beaming. “You can feel me too?! Get back here! Hug me!”

“Not if you were the only ghost in the whole of the Eight Kingdoms!”

“So, there is a ghost?” Bill prompted.

“Can’t believe my bar’s haunted,” Mike mumbled.

#Reddie #Reddie Fanfiction #eddie x richie #IT fanfiction #my fanfiction #idk guys I really go off on a writing tangent sometimes #like what is this #IT stuff #but I had fun so that's the most important thing #right??? lmao

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evanbuckley-heartofgold · 5 years ago

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The Love We Deserve

Prompt: “You love me as if I deserve you.” (I'm here for the angst you're about to rain down on me)

Jamie (@doctornineandthreequarters) wanted angst so I’m delivering almost 3k of angst. You’re welcome. And I’m also going to tag @thisissirius because they are an amazing writer and said it was okay to tag them in fics so here you go!

Read on ao3

Eddie prides himself on his ability to read others. It is especially handy on calls where he can say the right thing to keep the person he’s trying to help calm. But it is even more helpful when it comes to his boyfriend.

Buck wears his heart on his sleeve, he always has, but there are some things Buck tries so desperately to hide from the light of the world.

Eddie notices that Buck starts hiding his feelings more, using smiles and jokes to disguise obvious hurt and pain boiling beneath the surface. At first, Eddie tries to fix the problem, he gently asks if something is wrong, only to be met with a confused look and Buck saying that everything is just peachy. When that doesn’t work, Eddie moves onto his plan b: giving Buck more affection, trying to draw him out to tell him what’s going on.

The thing about Buck is that he has never been shy with his affection and how tactile he is. Eddie will often wake up in the mornings to find Buck curled completely around him and Buck will hold his hand, kiss his cheek, hug him no matter where they are. Which is why it worries Eddie when his boyfriend starts pulling away from him and tensing when he touches him. So Eddie pulls back on his affection. When Eddie asks if Buck is alright he will just smile and say everything is fine.

Buck has never been a good liar.

Eddie runs in his mind over and over again what could possibly be wrong, but he can’t come up with a single thing. He thought he and Buck were good, that they had overcome all their issues when they confessed their feelings. Obviously that was wrong. Abuela would tell him that he needs to stop seeing the world in black and white, and she’s right.

“You should just talk to him,” Hen tells him, squeezing his leg. They’re sitting in the living room of the firehouse, the team all pitching in to give Eddie much needed advice. “Ask him what’s going on. Waiting for him to come to you is never going to work with him.”

“She’s right,” Bobby tells him from where he sits on the couch. “Buck will never admit he’s hurting until someone makes him.”

Eddie sighs, “I tried to talk to him, but he just keeps telling me that everything is okay. But then he keeps being distant.” Eddie shakes his head, “I don’t think I’ve hugged him in a week.”

“Oh,” Hen is taken aback, it’s well known in the 118 that Buck thrives on affection.

“I’m so worried about him,” Eddie admits. Eddie over at Hen and Chim pleadingly, “What if he’s going to break up with me? What if that’s what this is about?”

“Eddie...” Bobby sits down beside Eddie and squeezes his shoulder. “I’m sure that’s not it. Buck loves you so much.”

Eddie nods and wipes his eyes, “I know, I know. I just...I’m so worried.”

“I know,” Hen says, leaning across to him. “But you need to talk to him.” She checks her watch, “His shift is about to end, why don’t you go catch him before he leaves?”

Eddie nods again, “Okay, yeah, you’re right. I’ll go.” Chim pats him on the back as he walks past him. As Eddie jogs down the stairs and he sees Buck tossing his bag over his shoulder. “Buck! Hold up!” Buck turns around, smiling when he sees Eddie. Eddie feels a piercing cold in his chest when he discovers that the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“What’s up?” Buck asks when Eddie is standing in front of him.

“Can we talk?”

Buck frowns, “We can talk at home can’t we?”

Eddie shakes his head, “My shift doesn’t end until tomorrow morning and I just want to talk before then.” Buck nods for him to continue. “What’s going on with you?” Eddie asks gently. “I can tell that you’ve been upset these past few weeks and you keep telling me you’re fine-”

“I am-”

“You’re not,” Eddie insists. “Buck, please tell me what’s wrong. I’m really worried about you.”

Buck sighs and looks up at the ceiling before looking down at his shoes and takes a deep breath. “I’ve just been feeling…” Buck abandons that train of thought and instead says, “I’ve been noticing things about our relationship recently and I guess it’s been making me act a little off around you, I’m sorry.”

Eddie frowns, “Like what? Buck, what are you talking about?”

Buck takes a long breath, “You love me as if I deserve you.” He says it with such conviction that Eddie instantly knows that Buck believes this to be true.

“Buck,” Eddie’s voice is unbearably soft as he brings his hand up to touch Buck’s cheek where tears are already starting to fall. “You do deserve-” Before Eddie can say anything more, Buck steps out of his reach, Eddie’s hand falling between them.

“Don’t lie to me, Eds. I have never deserved you.” Buck bites his lip as the tears just keep falling and Eddie finds his eyes misty as well. “You are such a good man, a veteran, and a damn good firefighter. And I-I’m...not.” Eddie is just about to jump in and protest, but Buck says, “I didn’t want to do this here, but I don’t think I can do this anymore.” Eddie’s heart grows heavy in his chest. Does he really mean that? “I can’t keep waiting for the other shoe to drop and waiting for you to realize how much of a fuck up I am. I’m sorry, Eddie.” Buck lets his head drop as he turns to walk out of the station.

“Buck, wait!” Eddie grabs his hand, fighting back his tears. He has to make this right. “Please don’t go, let’s talk. Okay? Let’s figure out what’s going on in here.” Eddie taps Buck’s temple. When Buck just looks at him blankly, Eddie says, “I love you, Evan.”

“Don’t,” Buck says, wincing as if the words have caused him physical pain. “Please don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”

“You’re not breaking up with me, Evan Buckley,” Eddie’s voice is strong though his eyes are filled with tears. The love of his life is about to leave him. “We’re in this together. I need you, Chris needs you.”

Buck gives him a sad smile, “No, you don’t. I love you too, Eddie. But I’m-I’m not the man you deserve.” He shakes himself out of Eddie’s grasp and starts walking towards the doors of the station once more, taking Eddie’s heart with him.

“Yes, you are!” Eddie shouts after him. “Please, Buck.”

Buck doesn’t turn around and the second the door closes behind him, Eddie falls to his knees sobbing. Hen is at his side in an instant, pulling him and holding him as he sobs. Eddie’s chest hurts so much, how can Buck think that? Of course Buck deserves him. Buck is the only man he has ever loved, how can he do this to him? Did Eddie do something or say something to make Buck think like that?

Eddie distantly notices that Bobby and Chim are kneeling beside him as well, all three of them hugging him. Eddie lets the team hold him as he desperately sobs. The love of his life is gone.

“Shh,” Hen soothes, running her hand through his hair. “You’re okay.”

Eddie shakes his head, “No, I’m not.”

Bobby hauls him up and hugs Eddie tightly. Eddie clings to him soaking in any comfort offered to him. He can feel the rumbles in Bobby’s chest as he talks, but Eddie doesn’t hear a word of it. He wants Buck to burst through the doors and pull him into his arms and tell him that everything will be okay. But Eddie knows that won’t happen.

The bell rings.

Bobby looks down at Eddie apprehensively, “Kid...”

“I’m coming,” Eddie jumps to his feet along with the rest of the team, ignoring the worried looks they all give him. Eddie takes a deep breath, “Please, Bobby. I don’t have to help just let me come.”

Bobby sighs, “Get in the truck.”

...

“Okay, guys,” Bobby looks over the back of his seat. Hen has her hand in Eddie’s, running her thumb in soft circles on the back of his hand. “We have a car crash, driver one was t-boned in the middle of an intersection by driver two. Bystander called 9-1-1, said driver one is not responding but is still alive and driver two is perfectly fine except for a broken nose.” The team nods in understanding. And not even five minutes later, they arrive. “Okay, let’s go!”

Hen and Chim rush out first, checking over the driver still in the car. As Eddie starts to follow them, he feels all the air seize from his lungs. That’s Buck’s jeep. Bobby grabs him around the waist to keep him from falling.

“Cap!” Chim calls from where he stands by the passenger side window of the totaled car, his face distraught. “It’s Buck!”

“Eddie,” Bobby says lowly. “Why don’t you go sit in the truck-”

“I need to help,” Eddie interrupts. “Please, cap. Let me help him.”

Bobby sighs, “Okay.” With Bobby’s blessing, Eddie runs over to the car nearly falling again when he sees Buck through the passenger side window. He’s unconscious, his head is lolled against his neck and his face is coated with blood from the broken glass. Eddie can see that the door is crushed into Buck’s left side.

“Eddie, get the jaws!” Bobby orders, pulling the firefighter out of his reverie. Eddie stumbles into motion, running back to the truck and pulling the hatch open to grab the jaws. As his feet pound against the asphalt, Eddie forces himself to breathe, to think of this as any other accident, not one involving the love of his life who may or may not have broken up with him not even an hour ago.

As Bobby slots the jaws in the door, Eddie steps back, silently praying for Buck to be alright. He just needs to live, that’s all. Eddie can live without him, he can live with Buck breaking up with him. He can’t live with Buck being gone.

Buck groans as the door is pulled away from him, “E-Ed...” Buck tries to say.

Eddie is at his side the second the door falls away, taking Buck’s hand, “I’m right here, Evan.”

“I-I’m so-sorry,” Buck manages to say, his voice so quiet Eddie has to strain to hear him. Just as Buck mutters the final syllable, he goes slack in his seat.

“Buck!” Eddie exclaims, he tries to move closer to his boyfriend, but Bobby grabs him by the waist and drags him away to let Hen and Chim get to Buck. Eddie fights Bobby, pulling against him to try to get back, Buck needs him, he’s hurt.

But Bobby doesn’t let go. He keeps his grip tight, allowing Eddie to watch what’s happening, but not interfere.

Buck is lifted out of the car and placed on the backboard, Hen and Chim count to three before rushing to the ambulance. Only then does Bobby let Eddie go and jump into the ambulance after them.

Eddie stares down at Buck, not even daring to breathe as Hen starts taking care of him. He grabs Buck’s hand and squeezes, hoping that Buck will return the gesture. He doesn’t.

...

Buck wakes up slowly. His body feels like his veins are filled with lead, though his head feels warm and soft. He thinks the room is silent, but then he hears an annoying little beeping. Buck scrunches up his nose, someone should turn that off.

He blinks his eyes open to find himself in a brightly lit hospital room. At first he thinks the room is empty but when he looks to his right he sees Eddie, fast asleep with his head pillowed on the bed beside him. Eddie’s hand is in his own and from the looks of him he’s been there for a while.

And Buck remembers everything.

Their fight, him leaving, the car crash. Pain runs through his chest, but Buck knows that it’s a manifestation of his emotional turmoil, rather than true pain. He told Eddie he was done, that they were done. Buck has never regretted something more than those words. But his reason for them still rings true.

Buck tentatively reaches out and touches Eddie’s cheek. When Eddie doesn’t stir, Buck moves his hand through Eddie’s hair, a trick he has used many times and he knows it is one of the only ways to wake Eddie up without him being grumpy. Sure enough, Eddie starts making his soft waking up noises.

Eddie lifts his head groggily and when he sees Buck awake and looking down at him, he sits straight upright. “Buck,” he breathes almost reverently. Then before Buck knows what’s happening, Eddie is on top of him, hugging him tightly. Buck tentatively returns the embrace, not knowing if his touch will be welcome after what he said.

But Eddie just cries into his shoulder, “I thought you were dead, Evan. I-I saw you in the car and I could only think about how our last words would have been fighting and I could never forgive myself if you were to die without knowing how much I love you.”

“Eds,” Buck tries. But Eddie just shakes his head and sits up, taking Buck’s hands and ignoring his falling tears.

“Buck, you do deserve me,” Eddie looks straight into Buck’s eyes.

“Do we have to do this now?” Buck protests.

Eddie gives him a look, “Are you in any pain?” Buck shakes his head. “Then we’re doing this now when you can’t run away, and because I thought you were dead.”

Buck sighs and shakes his head, “I’m sorry-”

Eddie rolls his eyes, “Don’t try to apologize for almost dying.”

Buck takes Eddie’s hand to quiet him. “Listen, Eddie. You’re-you’re a great man, you’re a veteran and a damn good dad. Who am I compared to you? I don’t deserve you.”

“You’re the love of my life,” Eddie says simply. He puts a hand on Buck’s cheek and makes Buck look at him. “You’re a badass firefighter with a big heart. You wear your emotions on your sleeve and you are a hero.” Eddie taps Buck’s chest. “You are a great dad to my son-”

“I’m not-”

“I’m not done yet,” Eddie shushes him. “You are a hero, Evan Buckley. You have helped so many people and you are my best friend. I love you so much even if you take too many risks and get yourself landed in the hospital far too many times for my taste, I love you. You deserve me, Evan. You always will.” Eddie uses his thumb to wipe away some of Buck’s tears. Buck reaches up and holds onto Eddie’s wrist as he starts to cry in earnest. Eddie softens and opens his arms for Buck to fall into.

He holds onto his boyfriend tightly as Buck sobs heavily into his chest, “You really mean that?” Buck says.

Eddie nods, “Of course, amor. I mean every word. You and Chris mean the world to me. I hate that you thought that you’re not enough for me but I’m here to help you.”

“Thank you,” Buck sits up a moment later, using the heels of his hands to mop up his tears. “I love you too.” Eddie smiles and gives Buck a soft kiss.

“What’s the damage?” Buck asks looking down at himself and sighing.

Eddie sighs, “Two broken ribs, grade two concussion, some cuts and bruises.” Eddie smiles, “You were really lucky. Feel any pain?”

Buck nods, “A little bit. I don’t think crying helped.”

Eddie gives him a gentle smile, “I’m sure it didn’t.” He presses the call button for the nurse and after she comes and delivers Buck more pain meds, Buck relaxes back into the bed.

“I know a few people who are waiting very patiently outside to come and see you,” Eddie says with a smile. “Including a very worried little boy.”

Buck smiles at that, “You can bring them in.” Eddie squeezes his hand and gets up to do so, but stops just before he gets to the door.

Turning around to face Buck again, Eddie asks, “Are we okay?”

Buck nods, “Yeah, I think we are.”

It takes time, months even, for Buck to truly believe that he is deserving of his life. But in the end he is grateful for his family and for Eddie who keeps picking him up when he falls.

#my fic #911 #911 on fox #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 fic #bobby nash #henrietta wilson #howie han #buddie #buck/eddie #buddie fic #fire fam

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bowieandqueen11 · 6 years ago

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I’ve Always Loved You / Denbrough!Daughter Imagine

Request: could you write a one shot about aged up Bill where you're his daughter and for some reason you go with him to Derry and you're confronted with your worst fear which is Bill not really caring about you as much as he does you're sibling and then Bill saves you and he comforts you?

I’m definitely not crying :’) This is the angst my poor heart needs <3

Bill had known kindness, but the negative influences in his life from his parents had often outweighed the good he desperately tried to feel in his heart. The morning he held you, his new daughter, the most perfect feeling he had ever known swept through him. He was rocked to his core, He knew he would do anything in the world for her. He would be her hero, her keeper, the one who gave her cuddles and kept her safe, no matter what she faced in the world. He would make sure she would never go through the same hardships he had faced, would never feel the same loneliness and heartbreak. He was going to be the perfect father.

He would be there. Every ballet recital he was in the front row, regardless of who's view he blocked. Every school band performance, he would be there, the first to his feet, even if Audra couldn’t make it. He would just have to cheer loud enough for two. He would often use his you as inspiration for his book, picking you up into his lap during long, dreary nights when all he wanted to do was cry. But as you placed your small, delicate hands against the bottom of his cheeks, your eyes bright and full of wonder, he would smile down at you gently, feeling all the worry ebb away from his mind. But when your brother came along a few years later, you began to worry he would lose his love for you. He had often told you bedtime stories about your uncle Georgie, his little brother whom he had lost many years ago, and you could see the pained expression in his eyes whenever he looked at your brother that he resembled him.

‘I’ll see you tomorrow, alright y/n? Don’t go killing any clowns before then without me?’ Uncle Richie steps over, taking one hand out of his jacket pocket to ruffle your hair with a bright grin.

‘I still can’t believe how much you look like Big Bill here. You’re the spitting image of your father, especially when he still lived in Derry.’ Richie squats down slightly to wink at you. ‘I’m so, so sorry for you.’

Bill just shakes his head, rolling his eyes slightly as Mike laughs.

‘B-beep beep R-richie.’

Ignoring Eddie’s slight yelp as he slips against the gravel stone of the ground, Richie having turned his attention to instead make a beeline for his hair, Beverly and Ben turning around with a tut and sigh to try and pull them apart, Mike wanders over towards Bill. You sigh to yourself, trying to make out their indistinct, low and serious muttering, but instead you’re bumped out of your thoughts by Uncle Eddie’s hip banging straight into your shoulder. His eyes are wide and bloodshot as he glances down at you, placing one hand against your face slightly to make sure you were okay, before he says a hoarse, ‘sorry, dear’. His hand slips into his red jacket pocket as he begins to wander away from Richie who inches closer again, his fingers trembling as he pulls out his aspirator and takes a trembling breathe.

Becoming bored with the adult talk, you begin to slip away from your father. You furrow your eyebrows as you see a red balloon float away, high above the open and shutting mouth of the clown that lured incomers into the carnival. It was a scorching hot summers day, a perfect day for the fair. The sky was dotted with a few candy-floss clouds. The entrance could be seen in the distance and the long queues edged forward slowly. Customers were becoming increasingly excited and impatient as they took a few steps forward every so often. Faint music could be heard from beyond the tall gates with the occasional happy scream suddenly piercing the air. Closer to the entrance and the massive structures of the rides could be seen: a rollercoaster, a ferris wheel, a helter skelter. Below, younger children stood watching, eating their sweets and snacks. Ice creams wobbled perilously over the cones and dripped down their small fingers as they melted; some munched on brightly coloured balls soft sugar strands that dissolved on the tongue and stuck to their teeth like glue traps. Letting go of his grasp, Bill too busy chatting heatedly with Mike to realise his hand had fallen limp against the jeans of his hip, his fingers empty, you wander off, drawn by some unknown force towards the house of mirrors.

Stepping inside, you rub your arms, a sudden chill snaking over your body and littering goosebumps over your skin with the sudden realisation that with every step you took, every step drawing you forward without your control, you were becoming more and more lost. You place your hands out in front of you, banging into mirror after mirror with only your panicked expression as companion, your breaths starting to become quicker and more frantic as your fingertips reached out only to feel cool glass. It shimmers like broken bottles as you stop suddenly, your mouth falling into a concerned frown as you reach out again, your palms hitting the wall, but as you turn, beginning to thump more erratically now, you realise all the walls are glass. You’re trapped.

The almost bluish light you had taken for granted in this enclosing, dark room starts to stutter into blackness; at first the flickers are wildly space apart, yet soon they become so close together that there is more darkness than light. Your heart is beating so fast you can see your pulse jumping out in your neck during the brief illuminations. Every face has a sheen that has nothing to do with the temperature, until suddenly the lights drop, illuminating the room in a dingy, musty glow. You turn slightly, eyes wide and mouth agape as you begin to whine, your little brother standing with his hands flat against the glass, his eyes stretched open with a wild ferociousness, his head tilted back slightly, looking off at the ceiling. His mouth was formed in a painfully wide cartoon of a smile. He began to flicker slightly, as if warping, and you weren’t sure if the little boy that stood in front of you in a dripping yellow raincoat was your brother, of your dad’s.

‘He loves me, y/n. Only me. And soon, you’ll be gone, and me and him can finally be together, forever.’

As the glass begins to crack under the force of his shaking hands, his skin beginning to blister and boil, you finally allow yourself to scream.

‘Jesus, do you hear that?’, Richie starts, ‘it sounds like-’

‘Y/n. It sounds like y/n’, Bill finishes. Looking down to his side, he feels his heart drop to see the space next to him empty, nothing but an empty candy floss cone fluttering slightly in the wind. He doesn’t even stop to think before he feels his feet pounding across the ground, not even properly touching the floor. His plaid shirt nearly flies off him, his watch burning against his skin. He can feel the cold sweat drench his skin, the throbbing of his own eyes, the ringing screams vibrating in his ears as his fingers are curled into a fist, nails digging into his palm.

‘Please, please, not again’, he mutters as he reaches the entrance. ‘Not my little girl.’

Frozen in fear as you tremble in the corner of the glass cage, you don’t notice the thumping of your father’s heavy boots as he finally catches sight of you. A smile brightens his face as he runs down the hallway, only to land with an ooph onto the floor as his forehead hits smack against the glass. He sits up, his hands in fists as they bang against it, but he falters for a second, horrendous memories ripping through his mind as he sees where you’re looking. There Pennywise sits, his tongue dripping saliva in pregnant drops as one clawed hand cracks through the glass and makes swipes at your stomach.

You don’t even notice the shouts and screams of Bill from the other side, the desperate thumping of his hands as he tries instead to kick down the glass, beginning to splinter it with every kick he manages to lever himself into. You didn’t hear the heavy sound of his boots kicking, rough and harsh as the wall finally collapses entirely. You don’t see his wild eyes as he runs towards you, the panic stricken fear on his face as his thick arms wrap around your waist, lifting you heavily and clumsily into his chest as he falls backwards onto his bottom, dragging the two of you away from the empty eyes of the bloody clown.

Running down the hallway, Bill is quick to fall onto his knees as the two of you finally break back into the daylight, his shaking hand coming up to rub roughly against your cheek, moving your face softly from side to side. His eyes are bloodshot and cloudy as he begins to pepper kisses against your cheeks, your forehead, the tip of your nose as he begins to cry silently. He doesn’t think he’s ever cried so heavily since the night Georgie died.

'It’s okay, darling, it’s okay, I’m here, I’m here, I promise. I’m never leaving you again, I promise.’

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theyearoftheking · 5 years ago

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Book Thirty-Three: The Wastelands

“We are ka-tet...which means a group of people bound together by fate. The philosophers of my land said a ka-tet could only be broken by death or treachery. My great teacher, Cort, said that since death and treachery are also spokes on the wheel of ka, such a binding can never be broken. As the years pass and I see more, I come more and more to Cort’s way of looking at it.”

The Wastelands... kinds describes the state of affairs in our country right now, huh? I just... I have nothing funny or wise to say. My heart just aches. So, I’ve been trying to limit my time on the internet, mindlessly scrolling through social media; and I’ve been reading more. Which is why you’re treated to two posts this week!

The Wastelands was the perfect escape book at a time when I desperately needed to escape reality. I have an old, battered trade paperback copy I’ve read countless times, passed along to various friends, and treasured dearly. Some people go to Frodo, or Harry Potter when they need comfort, I turn to Roland and the ka-tet. Look at this well-loved book...

One of the funny things about having owned this book for twenty years, is looking back at the annotations I’ve made, and the various bookmarks. The last person who read this book (probs my husband) left behind an M&I Bank envelope. I’m not even sure M&I Bank is still a thing...

A quick Google search has informed me M&I Bank is now BMO-Harris. So that’s a fun little artifact.

Speaking of fun artifacts, for some reason, these lines really stuck out to me at some point, for some reason. It was probably back in college when I was unable to read anything without underlining it, or writing, “wow!” in the margins.

When I re-read these books, I usually find some small detail or theme I missed the last time I read the series. This time I was really just blown away by the amount of plot Steve was able to cram into four hundred and twenty-two pages.

We start in the woods, with Roland teaching Susannah how to shoot, while Eddie is attacked by a cyborg bear that chases him up a tree. Thankfully, Susannah has not forgotten the face of her father, and is able to shoot the bear and save Eddie.

It’s a good thing, because Roland hasn’t been himself lately. He’s hearing voices that contradict whether Jake actually existed, and whether or not Roland let him die. Eddie, in an attempt to deal with the demons of his past, has taken up whittling. He ends up carving a key that seems to quiet Roland’s voices down.

Meanwhile in our universe, Jake Chambers is also struggling. It’s finals week at his fancy prep school, and he can’t focus. He’s dealing with the same voices Roland is, and he feels like he’s split in two. And honestly? New York Jake doesn’t have a lot going for him. His parents ignore him, his closest confidant is his housekeeper, and he goes bowling alone. Seriously. The thought of a ten year old alone at the bowling alley really tugs on the heartstrings.

One day, Jake dips out of school and meanders around NYC. He finds himself in a small bookshop where he picks up a copy of Charlie the Choo-Choo, and a riddle book, with all the answers ripped out of the back. This picture still haunts my dreams.

Eventually, Jake somehow meets up with the kid version of Eddie, and makes his way into The Mansion, an old, haunted house. The mansion is gross, creepy, full of spiders, and I’m pretty sure it’s the same haunted house The Losers Club visits in It.

Once inside the mansion, it starts to collapse, and Jake finds the right doorway to let himself back into Roland’s world. Eddie struggles to pull him in, while Susannah has sex with a demon in order to keep it distracted. Yep. That happened.

So, the ka-tet is complete (almost), and Roland promises never to drop Jake again. Snort.

Then, the best character of all is introduced: Oy, the Billy Bumbler. All the squeeeeeees.

The ka-tet begins their journey further along The Beam, and towards Blaine the Train. No one knows why their journey needs to involve Blaine the Pain, but I guess it’s just ka. On the way to see Mid-World’s most annoying form of transportation, they stop and have dinner with the elders of River Crossing, who tell them they haven’t seen a gunslinger in hundreds of years. It’s a lovely scene, compared to the chaos that comes next.

They move along, realizing their bond is growing stronger, and they’re kind of able to read each other’s minds. And Oy is proving to be way smarter than anyone gave him credit for. Oy reminds me of a less-obnoxious version of my beagle. Super smart, but likes to keep that shit on the down-low.

Eventually, the crew makes it to the shit-hole city of Lud. Seriously guys... shit-hole. They have bodies hanging from the light poles, there’s this weird Shirley Jackson Lottery system they have going on, and it appears almost everyone is suffering from some kind of radiation sickness. Jake is promptly captured by Gasher; and Roland sets off to rescue him, while Eddie and Susannah go to find Blaine.

Roland and Oy (let’s be honest here... mostly Oy. He follows Jake’s scent all the way to the underground bunker where he’s hiding out) find Jake, kill the villainous Tick-Tock Man (real name, Andrew Quick- also, not really killed); and make their way above ground with the help of Blaine. Blaine finds out from Eddie and Susannah that Jake and Roland are well-versed in riddles, and he can’t wait to hear some.

So, Blaine sets off explosives all over the city of Lud (I told you, a real pain); and takes the ka-tet off towards the Tower. Well, actually, he’s on a suicide mission that’s due to end in Topeka. He and Roland bargain, and Blaine eventually agrees if the ka-tet has a riddle that stumps him, he’ll let them go before he crashes. Otherwise it’s, “SEE YOU LATER, ALLIGATOR! AFTER WHILE, CROCODILE, DON’T FORGET TO WRITE!”

And the book ends with the ka-tet riddling it out with Blaine.

So much goodness crammed into one novel, and I can’t wait to get to Wizard & Glass, arguably my favorite Dark Tower Book.

Total Wisconsin Mentions: 25

Total Dark Tower References: 25

Book Grade: A-

Rebecca’s Definitive Ranking of Stephen King Books

The Talisman: A+

Needful Things: A+

Misery: A+

Different Seasons: A+

It: A+

Four Past Midnight: A+

The Shining: A-

The Stand: A-

The Wastelands: A-

The Drawing of the Three: A-

Nightmares in the Sky: B+

The Dark Half: B+

Skeleton Crew: B+

The Dead Zone: B+

‘Salem’s Lot: B+

Carrie: B+

Creepshow: B+

Cycle of the Werewolf: B-

Danse Macabre: B-

The Running Man: C+

Thinner: C+

Dark Visions: C+

The Eyes of the Dragon: C+

The Long Walk: C+

The Gunslinger: C+

Pet Sematary: C+

Firestarter: C+

Rage: C

Cujo: C-

Nightshift: C-

Roadwork: D

Christine: D

The Tommyknockers: D-

Next up is Gerald’s Game, which I’m now describing as, “Sexy-time Cujo, with handcuffs”. Can someone make that into a t-shirt for me, please?

Until next time, Long Days & Pleasant Nights, Rebecca

#the dark tower #constant readers #stephen king #ka #ka-tet #oy #billy bumblers #blaine #it

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fans-of-fiction · 7 years ago

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Come Join the Clown, Eds (Part 1) - Eddie Kaspbrak (IT 2017)

Prompts/Plot: 7 - “Oh, fuck. What’s that?” “It’s a shoe.” Anxious and equally neurotic Eddie Kaspbrak has a plan to ask Y/N on a date but a lost shoe, a colossal storm and a killer clown walk into a bar and cause nothing but trouble.

Warnings: Swearing

A/N: The flashback obsession isn’t ceasing any time soon so that time warp is acknowledged. Mentions the fact that Mike has a Dad (really not sorry) cause I like to allude to the book where I can. Everything in italics is a thought. Kenduskeag is pronounced KEN-DUH-SKEEG

Words: 4326

August 1989 - Eddie’s POV

The American Elms of the Barrens were bending and swaying violently in the warm August wind.

“Come on, Eddie Spaghetti,” Richie mocked from his place on the bank of the Kenduskeag. “You’re just working yourself up.”

I scoffed at him, disappointed. “I’m not working anything up, Richie. I just-”

Beverly placed her arm around my shoulders, pulling me into her side. “You’re just nervous.” I looked up at her, defeated. She smiled back at me. “We’ve all felt like this, Eddie.” She assured. Like an idiot? I thought. “Richie’s right. You’re just working yourself up.”

I scoffed again, pulling away from Bev. “But I-”

Stanley stepped into the discussion, promptly cutting me off. “Look, Eddie.” He began. “We’ve been through every possible scenario. If you stutter, you know what to do. If she faints, you know what to do. If a bird shits on your shoulder and you puke on her, you know what to do.”

Richie doubled over and cackled hard. “That one’s my favourite!” He roared “Can we do that one again?”

“Buh-b-beep beep, R-Richie.” Bill defended. The trashmouth fixed his glasses and resorted to snickering through his teeth. I was still terrified, and the six of them could see it, especially Bill. “Stan’s r-right.” He continued. “Wuh-we’ve been through e-everything. N-nuh-nothing can go wrong.”

I shook my head. “Plenty of things can go wrong, Bill.” My heart felt like a roaring steam engine and the more I thought about Y/N the closer it came to crashing off the tracks. “Murphy’s Law, Bill. Something always goes sideways.” I looked down at my shoes. My mother’s voice droned on in my head. Be careful, Eddie. She cooed coldly. You know how much bacteria builds up in that water, Eddie. I took a subconscious step away from the river and looked up. “How do I even begin to ask her out?”

Stan let out a heavy sigh, Richie pretended to die of boredom, and the rest of the Losers shared wary looks before Ben spoke up. “How did you feel the first time you saw her?” Everyone turned to Haystack Hanscom, who was trying his best not to look at Beverly. The flurry of confused looks from the Losers cued him to explain. “When you talk to Y/N,” He spoke quickly, nervous that if Beverly looked at him for too long she would come to loathe his pudgy physique. “Just tell her how she made you feel the first time you saw her.”

Everyone agreed, nodding their heads and mumbling mmhmm. It was easy enough to remember that day. It was June. I was scared. She saved my life. It had always been that simple, but the more I thought about it the more the minute details came back. How the sun hit her jeans, how the wind caught her hair, how she made me question everything my mother had ever drilled into my head and how much I loved her for it.

June 1989 - Eddie’s POV

“Bill, you don’t want to go in there.” I grimaced. Bill, standing at the opening to one of the Derry Sewage runoff pipes, was more than happy to wander into the cesspool of bacteria. Bacteria leads to staph infections, Eddie, and what do infections lead to? “Death” I whispered out loud.

Bill cocked his head back towards me. “It’s just water, Eds. It can’t be that bad.”

I shook my head at him. “Grey water. Greywater.” He furrowed his eyebrows, confused. I scoffed. “All the piss of Derry has to collect somewhere right? Well, welcome to the circus, Bill.” I’m not sure what I was expecting from him. If I were standing in a river of bacteria I would scream, vomit and faint, probably simultaneously. Bill, however, was fearless. He simply scrunched his nose, hiked-up his jeans, and began to venture deeper, and he would have followed those shitty tunnels to China to find Georgie, if it weren’t for the roar from the Belch Huggins’ TransAm. Even from Kansas St—the dirt road that surfaced well above the Barrens—it was deafening, but it didn’t compare to the low, gut-wrenching growl of Henry’s voice.

Belch had stopped the car next to the guard rails, allowing Henry to lean out of the passenger window. “You’re lucky we don’t come down there and make you drink that piss water, fuckers!” He barked. Henry had managed to push himself so far out that I nearly laughed, picturing him falling out and eating shit as he tumbled down the steep hill. The only reason I didn’t have a chuckle was that Henry looked furious and—despite that being his default mood—if he chose to push himself out that grimy window, we really would be drinking piss water.

Bill quickly made his way out of the sewer, but tripped over a half-hidden root and tumbled into a puddle of thick mud, sending Henry and his gang into a howling fit of laughter. Victor flashed the bird and Henry pulled himself back in before Belch tore up dirt, flying down Kansas Street. Bill pushed himself up, letting out a sigh of disappointment as he surveyed his mud-caked outfit. I took a step towards him but a squeeze in my chest reminded me of my debilitating condition.

I know the signs. I’ve had so many attacks that they’ve become second nature, like an itch. Unlike when I was seven, I no longer have to react, I just scratch. I raised my aspirator up to my lips and pulled the trigger, awaiting the acidic pang and rush of fresh air, but there was nothing. I tried again, squeezing harder. Nothing.

Panic hit me like Belch’s TransAm. The itch was unscratchable. The empty aspirator rolled from my hand, making a small sploosh in the Kenduskeag before the current carried it away. My knees buckled as I doubled over, crashing to the mucky ground of the Barrens, choking. I tried to shift my weight and sit down, but at that point my limbs were nothing more than fleshy sandbags, weighing me down and wasting my fleeting breath. I felt Bill’s arm on my back, rubbing frantically as if he was trying to wash my asthma off. I’ve already tried that, Bill. I thought. It’s no use.

His voice sounded muffled and distant, way beyond the point of recognition, or more importantly, understanding. I forced my eyes open so that I could look around and make sure I wasn’t sitting at the bottom of the river, though my vision was so blurred with tears and my lungs were so desperate for oxygen that I don’t think it would make a difference if I was. Bill stepped in front of me and grabbed under my arms, softly yet urgently, helping me sit against a rock. I threw my head back, opening my airway as much as possible. Warm, June air rushed into my lungs, but my bronchi had closed to the size of pins so it wasn’t getting far. I squeezed my eyes together, forcing tears out. This must be how Richie feels, I thought. Poor kid needs fucking coke bottles to read his cereal boxes.

I looked up at Bill, who had knelt down so that his face was only a foot away from mine. He was trying to mouth something, but between the tears and his stutter I couldn’t figure out what he was saying, though I managed to make out the words “help” and “Keene’s”. Shit. I yelped in my head. Bill was going to Mr.Keene’s for another inhaler. Please, I begged silently. Fuck, Bill. Please don’t go. The thought of being alone in my state only made me hyper-aware of the growing pressure in my lungs. Please don’t leave me alone, Bill.

A twig snapped behind me and Bill’s head shot up. I looked over my shoulder, trying to ignore the thumps from my racing heart, and promised that if I saw Henry and his Gang standing behind me I’d drop dead without a second thought. Though it wasn’t Henry, or Belch, or Victor or Patrick. It was a girl, and she was beautiful. Her eyes kept darting in between Bill and I. Her eyebrows were furrowed in confusion.

“What’s up with him?” She asked. Her concerned expression didn’t match her nonchalant posture. Her hands were stuffed in the back pockets of her jeans, which were coated at the bottom in Barrens mud. I noticed how clear her voice sounded, compared to the bleak murmur of Bill’s.

“A-a-Asthma attack.” He managed. My ears, which had been useless a mere minute ago, finally seemed to hear, Thank God, and Bill sounded scared. “I have to get him another aspirator but I don’t want to leave him alone.”

There was a sudden gust of wind. It flowed through the girl’s hair, pushing it over her eyes. She raised her hands, dragging them through her hair and tying it all back in a sloppy bun, revealing her face. “I’ll stay with him.” Though I still struggled to breathe, the tears no longer clouded my vision. I stared at Bill, waiting for his reaction. He began to speak but she cut him off. “Don’t worry,” She assured, offering half a smile. “I’ll keep him company. You better go get that inhaler.”

Bill looked at me regretfully but forced a smile in an effort to convince me that everything was going to be ok. Noted and appreciated, I thought. “Hhhhhhh.” I wheezed. Now go get my fucking inhaler, please. “Ghhhhh Hhhhh” I wheezed again.

Bill smiled for real this time and pushed himself up, uselessly wiping his hands on his mud-caked jeans. He took several quick steps down the bank. “I’ll be b-buh-back.” He looked at the girl and nodded his head in thanks before taking off in a sprint down the bank. He turned sharply, cutting up the hill towards Kansas street where Silver was tied to the guardrail.

As his footsteps faded, the girl stepped around me and took a seat on a rock. “Can you tell me your name?” She asked. I wheezed, cursing whatever God fucked me over with this pretty girl by giving me the World’s Shittiest LungsTM. “Know sign language?” I shook my head, causing her to chuckle. “Yeah, me neither.” She began taking her shoes off, which were covered in a thick coat of dark brown, half-dried mud. Next came her socks, which were just as dirty. She shuffled closer to the river, slipping her feet in. The wind picked up again, rippling through her shirt and tugging at the loose hairs that weren’t collected in her bun.

She looked at me and smiled softly. “How are those lungs doing?” My mind shifted back to my breathing. There was less strain on my chest now. Less stabbing pressure when I inhaled. The shock was gone, instead giving way to curiosity—as well as appreciation—for this beautiful yet mysterious stranger. I managed to shrug my shoulders. “Good,” She chuckled. “Nearly dead is still better than dead.” Her motto took me aback to the point where I found I was looking at her in a whole different light. I began to notice the small, wild details that I had otherwise ignored. The wisps of hair she didn’t bother to tuck in her bun, her mismatched, muddy socks, her unpredictable mannerisms. This girl embodied a sense of freedom that—with my mother looming over my shoulder—I’ve never known.

She stood up, rolled her jeans halfway up her shins, and stepped into the river. “I really shouldn’t be taking my shoes off.” She remarked, and as if she could feel my confusion, she began to explain why. “The reason I’m here is that I lost a shoe.” Her voice took on a tone of fear that was not only sudden, but—given her other careless nature—completely out of place. I looked up at her with uncertainty. “It was about a month ago,” She continued. “I can’t even remember why I was here.” She trailed off, looking down at her feet. Bluish-greyish water from the Kenduskeag flowed past her calves, lapping at her skin. She looked back up at me, smiling now. “Guess it’s a good thing I came down today, huh?”

I could feel myself smiling for the first time in forever. I was so encapsulated in trying to figure her out that I had forgotten that I couldn’t breathe. She continued on, and suddenly I saw what she was doing. While scanning the riverbed, she had distracted me with her anecdote. Calming me down. Allowing me to breathe.

“Yeah,” She endured. “I don’t remember much from that day. But I remember being scared.” She turned to face me, slipping her hands back into her jean pockets. “You’re scared, aren’t you?” I closed my eyes in embarrassment, but there was something about this girl that I could trust, so I nodded my head. “Can’t blame you.” She encouraged sullenly, before switching her tone and chirping out, “I’m just glad I was here.”

I continued to watch her as she scanned the river bed. She swept her feet along the muddy bank in small arks as she told me stories. Sometimes she would thrust her hands in the water, though she only ever pulled up rocks and mud. Her final plunge, soaking her arms well past her elbows, brought up a dead fish. We both gagged. She tossed the fish back in the river, shook her wet arms, and wadded over to my side of the Kenduskeag.

She wiped her hands on her jeans and sat down beside me. “How’s the breathing?” She checked.

I smiled, easily. She took in my calm demeanor and smiled back at me. It was a proud smile. You should be proud, I thought. Before today, nothing but my aspirator could calm me. It was my only lifeline, until she came along.

I realized suddenly that something was missing. I glanced at her neck, hoping to find a necklace that would give me the answer, but there was nothing. I had to use my Shit LungsTM.

“What’s your name?”

Her eyes widened slightly, surprised to hear me talk, and then she chuckled. “Yeah, I guess we never exchanged names, did we?” I laughed with her and shook my head. “In my defense,” She continued. “You were dying.”

We laughed with each other, hard.

“It wasn’t that bad.” I managed in between cackles.

“‘Wasn’t that bad’ my ass!” She howled back. “I was scared for you!” Tears brimmed her eyes as she bent over and laughed, clutching her stomach.

Suddenly, Bill threw himself through the bushes fourteen feet down the river. He was trying to yell as he ran over, but between his stutter and the state of his lungs—which, ironically, seemed worse off than mine—we couldn’t understand a word.

He skidded to a halt beside the bank, his sneakers leaving trenches in the mud behind him. He bent over to breathe and with his hands on his knees, he raised his head to stare at me. The longer he looked, the more confused he got.

He drew in a long, painful breath and spoke in airy breaks. “I gu-“ Wheeze. “got your-“ Wheeze. “muh-“ Wheeze. “hedication.”

He pulled a full aspirator out of his back pocket and tossed it in my direction, though his aim was off by a foot or two. Instead, the girl caught it at waist level. She walked over, popped the cap off and handed it to me. “Here,” She smiled. “One for luck.”

I put the inhaler in my mouth, squeezed the trigger, and pulled a breath in. The metallic pang was comforting in its familiarity, though this time it seemed different. This time, the salbutamol sulfate didn’t provide the same sort of sanctuary—of comfort. The girl standing in front of me did that perfectly well enough. She was looking at her hands, inspecting her fingernails and the dirt that resided under them. I wondered what she was thinking. She looked up at me and smiled.

I could feel the blood rush to my cheeks in a wave of heat as I looked into her eyes. I felt as if I had climbed to the top of a mountain and could now sit and bask in the expanse of the view; the blues and greens and yellows sprawling outwards forever.

She turned towards Bill and spoke with relief. “Now that Wheezy over here has his meds,” She turned to me, grinning. “Wanna grab some ice cream?”

I became aware of the sweat on my back. I pinched my t-shirt, pulling it off my skin, and stood up. For a moment, the world went black as the blood in my head rushed to my feet. I almost fell over.

The girl was at my side instantly. One of her hands held mine, the other laid across the sticky t-shirt on my back. “You alright?” She asked.

I told myself to nod my head. The girl chuckled and let go of my hand, pulling herself away. I figured it was the wind, but a lack of heat—of heat and comfort—grew as she pulled away.

I dove my hand into my back pocket and pulled out three dollars. “If we get ice cream,” I managed. “At least let me pay for yours.”

She chuckled and nodded simultaneously. “I’d be honoured.”

Another wave of heat; more blood rushing to my face. I pictured the way the wind would catch her hair as we walked up Kansas towards Costello’s and- oh shit, I interrupted myself as images of a blue TransAm flashed through my head. I spoke out, “What if we see Bowers?”

Bill’s face became grey. I could tell he was imagining what Bower’s and his gang would do to us if they caught us on a backstreet. Three kids, alone. He looked up towards the road where Silver had churned up gravel less than ten minutes ago. You never assume the gang’ll be trouble when you’re speeding down the street at Mach 4 on your bike, but at walking speed there were a million opportunities to be antagonized. I began to picture opportunities one through seventeen when the girl let out a startling cackle.

Bill and I stared as she laughed. “Fuck Bowers” She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not worried about him.” Bill and I exchanged nervous looks, but she continued. “He’s a paper kid, a phony. If you stand your ground, a light breeze’ll make the poor thing crumble.”

Her audacity took us both by surprise. She and her thoughts were so genuine that her mentality seemed tangible, as if one could hold it in their hands. I felt myself staring at her. My eyes darted around her figure, trying to find physical proof that she was real. This mysterious girl—the one who had so promptly stayed with a stranger in order to save his feeble life, who held more courage in her entire body than I in my left hand, who was unafraid of Henry Bowers and the danger his gang possesses—could not be real.

She moved. For a second I felt a sense of relief—as if my eyes had finally proved that she was angelic; above a physical form—until she took another solid step down the bank. “Come on, you two.” She began. “I think it’s best to get you to Costello’s.” She turned her back and continued to walk. Bill and I followed promptly, though it wasn’t until we reached the market that I finally learned her name. The name.

August 1989 - Eddie’s POV

“Y/N,” I began “will see right through this bullshit plan.”

The Losers scoffed collectively. “Eddie,” Beverly pleaded. “We’ve planned this for days. There’s no way this won’t work. There’s no-” The crackling of bike tires on gravel sounded from above. We all looked up in anticipation, and there, smiling from behind the guardrail, was Y/N.

“Hey!” She yelled down. “It’s been two days. I almost forgot what you dorks looked like!”

All eight of us let out a laugh, under which Ben whispered, “Ok. We all know the plan. Play your roles for Eddie’s sake.” The Loser’s gave a quick nod before dispersing throughout the small stretch of Kenduskeag bank, doing our best imitation of ‘nonchalant’. Ben and Stan made their way up the hill towards the road.

We all knew what they were going to say, even before Y/N asked where they were going. “Ben found an amazing book on the indigenous birds of central Maine.” Stan cooed.

“We need to pick it up before anyone else does,” Ben concluded before they turned and continued up the hill.

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows in confusion but continued to make her way down to the bank. Beverly gave her a welcoming hug before conveniently looking at her watch. “Oh no,” She faked. “It’s three o’clock.” She looked up at Mike and Richie. “We better go help your dad before he comes looking for us.”

Mike nodded harshly. “You’re right.” He turned to Y/N and managed a reassuring smile. “Those cobs won’t husk themselves.”

Richie turned to Y/N, who became more confused—to the point of frustration—and apologized. “Sorry that we have to leave so early, Y/N.” He lamented. You could tell from the tension in his neck that he was trying to hold back his classic Tozier grin. “Mike, Bev, and I agreed to help Mike’s dad with the corn and if we’re late we’ll only get paid two cents per cob.” Mike and Beverly nodded mechanically. “And besides,” Richie continued. “Who wants to-”

Beverly grabbed his arm. “Come on, Tozier.” She demanded. “You can stay and chat or you can get paid.” Richie turned one corner of his mouth up in defeat and made his way up the hill. Y/N’s head followed the three as they trudged upwards.

Once their figures had been shrouded by the brush above, Y/N turned around to face Bill and I. “So,” She chirped optimistically. “Guess it’s just the three of us.”

Bill glanced at me, but fix his seemingly regretful eyes on Y/N. “Just the tuh-two of y-yuh-you, actually.” Bill held up his black-banded watch. “Spuh-heech therapy in an hour.”

I expected Y/N to shrug her shoulders and let Bill go, but instead, she furrowed her eyebrows; unconvinced. A knot conjured itself in my stomach. “I thought you had speech therapy Tuesday nights.” Y/N questioned. She then looked at me, waiting for confirmation of the obvious.

The knot twisted itself into a tight wad of anxiety. My jaw locked, forcing me to shrug my shoulders and look to Bill for guidance as I so often found myself doing. Bill could lie much easier than I could, even with the stutter. “Wuh-we can’t m-muh-make it this Tuesday,” He fibbed. “Huh-had to r-ruh-reschedule.”

Y/N loosened her expression, shrugged her shoulders, and let him go with a breathy “If you say so, Bill,” who spared no time making his way up to Kansas street. Have fun at Costello’s, I bleated in my head. The market was the meeting spot. The Losers would be collecting there soon, to share ice cream and How-Will-Eddie-Fuck-This-Up theories, no doubt.

“You know, Eddie,” Y/N chuckled. “You’re all terrible liars.” The knotted wad of anxiety in my gut exploded in a mess of fiery terror. I could still hear Bill’s feet shuffling over the loose gravel above. Ok, Bill, I screamed internally. Time to come back now.

“Where are they meeting?” She interrogated.

It felt as if my brain had been disconnected from my body, rendering all functions useless. “Costello’s.” I blurted.

Y/N chuckled under her breath. “If you wanted to spend some time with me,” We made eye contact. My heart exploded. “You could’ve just asked.” I was completely frozen. I took on the facade of a mouse playing dead, hoping and praying that she would get bored and leave, allowing me to slip away and read my comics under the safety of my covers.

Y/N bent down and picked up a smooth, grey rock. It was half the size of her palm. She dusted it off briskly, then turned her hip towards the Kenduskeag. Like an expert, she bent her knees, cocked her elbow back, and launched the rock over the surface of the water. I counted four skips.

The plain astonishment that filled my chest seemed to bring the feeling back to my limbs. My eyes scanned the bank around my feet for a rock like Y/N’s, but could only manage to find one that was much less flat. Rather than facing Y/N and her captivating yet quizzitive eyes, I bent over and picked up the rock. I did my best imitation of her stance and whipped the rock towards the water. It hit—and sank—with a single sploosh.

Y/N let out a whole-hearted cackle. Surprisingly, I joined in and laughed freely at my own defeat. The anxiety in my gut had diffused into a weightless thought in the back of my head until I looked up. A new worry tugged at the back of my head as I stared up at the darkened mass of Derry sky. The greys churned and writhed like a vicious blanket of black and white undertow. My eyes swept from the sky to the brush of the barrens. The wind had begun to pull and rip at the elms, bending them at angles that made me nauseous. The grey wash from the clouds had turned the water of the Kenduskeag inkpot black.

I turned to Y/N, whose face had adopted a tone of concern. She was mimicking my actions; looking around, taking in the red flags. The storm was just beginning—it hadn’t even begun to rain—but the onset of omens had been so sudden, we knew the worst of it was coming fast. It was going to swallow Derry whole.

I posted this ages ago ad only now realized that something failed in the posting process so here we are.

Part 2: https://fans-of-fiction.tumblr.com/post/178871324310/come-join-the-clown-eds-part-2-eddie-kaspbrak

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reddieloserz · 7 years ago

Note

I looooooved the latest reddie oneshot you posted and I was wondering if you would write a fic where eddie surprises or catches Richie off guard somehow? Angst or fluff is okay!! Xxx

Thank you my sweet anonymous!! That means so much to me you have no idea. Ya’ll have been making me feel so special with these prompts like ugh Im a lucky dog. And hh absolutely! How fun omf g

I spend most of my time writing aged-up eds and rich but im just feeling really nostalgic and i want to focus on our sweet 13yr old canon boys once again!

This is sort of a continuation of my last one shot and is v fluffy with a light dose of angst pls enjoy

Word count: 2,298

It had been about two weeks since the awkward (and perfect) kiss happened between Eddie and Richie in the movie theater. Neither of them really brought it up again, because there wasn’t a lot to explain. Richie was enthralled with Eddie and Eddie absolutely adored Richie.

Their dumbass antics only escalated from what they used to be- instead of just keeping their endless teasing between each other, they would now turn and roast whichever other Loser was closest, like some sort of sassy dynamic duo. It would of bothered the Losers more if it wasn’t just as hilarious to them as it was to the other two boys. They still annoyed the shit out of one another too, of course, don’t get me wrong. They still bickered nonstop, not unlike a boy tugging on a girl’s piggy tails to get her attention.

Difference is, now they were absolutely glued to the hip. If the Losers thought that Richie was clingy to Eddie before, they were in a whole different ballpark now. It was as if Richie’s hands were magnetized to Eddie’s body and he didn’t have the strength to resist them. What used to be a casual tousle of Eddie’s hair or wiping away a stray food crumb from his cheek, was now incessant tickling, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s middle, and Richie’s personal favorite- blowing raspberries into Eddie’s neck.

And Eddie didn’t even seem to care! Sure, he would say that Richie was ‘up his ass’ and to ‘leave me alone, Trashmouth’ but the smaller boy would never actually make a move to get away. He would just let Richie pull him into the other boy’s lap, acting as casual as possible whenever it happened. They were completely compatible and comfortable with one another, and a kiss wasn’t about to change that. They had grown up together, after all. They knew each other in ways that nobody else in the world could understand. Besides the other Losers, of course.Like right now, for example. It was a Friday night and all of the Losers were all cramped in Bill’s basement watching a horror movie (again). Richie was on some kind of kick, soaking up any and all horror media he could find. It all started when they watched Nightmare on Elm Street 5 earlier that Summer when IT… Well, you know.

Anyway, it was Richie’s night to pick, unfortunately for the other 6. It did give Mike a good excuse to coddle Stanley, though, and every once in a while Eddie would glance over to the pair and find that they had been slowly but surely scooching closer and closer to each other on the love seat. Eventually Stan’s head found Mike’s shoulder, and they both watched the carnage that was happening on screen in contentment.

Since Eddie had gone to that unofficial date with Richie at the Aladdin he found that he wasn’t as frightened of scary movies as he had thought. Not at all, in fact. Sure, seeing them in theaters could get him a little riled up, but that was his anxiety talking more than his actual fright. He knew movies weren’t real… He had seen what real horror was.

Eddie was currently perched in Richie’s lap on the floor just in front of the couch that Ben, Bill, and Beverly were occupying. Bev had fallen asleep almost as soon as the film had started and it was Ben and Bill that were awkwardly squished together because of Beverly’s hogging two out of the three couch cushions. Her faint snores filled the room, almost louder than the dialogue on the tv, but no one in the room seemed to care. Beverly must had been pooped from her train ride back to Derry from Portland.

As Eddie stared at the television he was only half paying attention to the action of the film. Richie’s nimble fingers were messaging into Eddie’s even smaller hand, rubbing small circles into his palm. Richie’s hands were always warm contrasted to Eddie’s cold ones and it felt really nice to have him fiddle with his fingers.

While Eddie and Richie had not kissed again, Richie had taken said kiss as permission to hold Eddie’s hand whenever he liked. Eddie never seemed to initiate any touching, so when Richie was feeling like he needed a little extra attention, Richie would take one of Eddie’s hands and place them on his head, forcing him to rub softly into his hair. Eddie, not looking up from whatever he was doing, would automatically oblige. He’d run his fingernails softly from the crown of Richie’s head all the way down to his neck and then back up again. Richie would close his eyes at that, going slack beneath Eddie as he sat in his lap. It usually made Richie fall asleep, and Eddie was happy to do anything to get Richie to calm down enough to be able to relax.

This was exactly what was currently happening, and before Eddie knew it, he had glanced back to see each and every one of his friends fast asleep. The action on the movie continued loudly, but it didn’t seem to disturb any of them. Ben had rolled over until his side was flush with Bill’s and they were sleeping with their heads leaning on the other’s for support. Fucking adorable.

Eddie got up from his place on Richie’s legs slowly, stretching with his hands up in the air until he felt the soft popping of his knees and spine. He let out a light sigh and padded across the basement and up the stairs to the kitchen, on the hunt for some popcorn.

Richie opened his eyes slowly, the draft in the basement waking him up lightly. He was shivering a tiny bit and realized it was because he had lost the warmth of his small counterpart. He looked around the room for a moment, acknowledging that everyone was napping, but Eddie was nowhere to be found. He quirked and eyebrow before rubbing the sleep out of his eyes from underneath his glasses. He quickly hopped up, ignoring that his legs had fallen asleep, and quickly darted upstairs.

“Eddie?” He called into the empty hallway. The bathroom door to his left was empty; unoccupied.

“Eds?” No reply came. It was raining harshly outside and the room was colored in grey from the clouds. Richie quickly strutted into the Denbrough kitchen, expecting his companion to be on his tip-toes trying to reach the popcorn in the cupboards. (fuckin shorty.) But he wasn’t there.

No, Richie didn’t think he was one to panic, but boy did he jump quickly to conclusions. His heart began pumping wildly and he started breathing heavily out of his mouth. Where the fuck did he go?

“Eddie! Where are you?” His voice rose just enough for his voice to crack in the middle of his sentence.

In a last ditch effort to deduce where Eddie had gone, Richie raced outside. Rain fell down on his head and shoulders, and to his dismay, he saw that Eddie’s bike was still propped outside in the yard. He hadn’t left.

Running around the threshold looking for Eddie sat uncomfortably familiar in Richie’s gut. The last time he had chased Eddie, trying desperately to find and protect him, was at Neibolt. Just the memory alone made his heart race and his head feel dizzy. Suddenly, a far off memory resurfaces in his mind, and his eyes widen at the sinister voice that whispers in his ear.

“Don’t touch the other boys, Richie… Don’t… Or they’ll know your secret.”

“No… This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening.” Richie whispers to himself, quickly turning back around and speeding up the porch steps. He swung the screen door back open and b-lined it straight for the basement stairs, footsteps loud and heavy. He was completely prepared to make an incredibly large scene, yelling for the others to get up, that IT had returned and Eddie was gone. Admit his failure. Again. He couldn’t keep Eddie safe.

Just as he was about to put his foot on that first step, something burst from around the corner and shouted an incredibly loud “BOO!”

This knocked Richie straight onto his ass, his hands coming up to cover his face as he let out a strained cry. “NO, PLEASE!”

Eddie had just pounced from behind the pantry door, crouched with his hands up like he had bear claws. He was pink in the face from trying his best not to laugh as he hid from Richie, sneaking around the house as Richie went on the hunt for him. He thought that this prank was going to really set a new bar between them, and he knew he was going to make Richie scream like a girl.

What he didn’t anticipate was this.

Richie had fallen down in front of him, his face blotchy and red already with tears. He had covered his glasses and crown of his head with shaking hands. He was breathing harshly, lips quivering after he let out his scream. Eddie straightened up, all humor repelled out of his body like a bullet. Richie had cried, muttering a small, “Don’t hurt him!”

Eddie kneeled in front of Richie, then. Slowly, he lifted his hands until they were covering both of Richie’s as he said, “Rich! Richie! It’s just me! It’s Eddie.”

“Eddie?” Richie whispered, removing his arms from his face and staring at Eddie with wide, frightened, sad eyes. They were rimmed with red and the fact that his glasses magnified their anguish made Eddie’s heart split in two.

“It’s just me, Rich. It’s Eddie.” He squeezed both of Richie’s hands softly, not letting them go.

“Eddie.” Richie just stared at him, almost disbelieving that it was really him. He finally relented and relaxed, letting his body slump. He wiped his face with his shoulder, looking away from Eddie in embarrassment. He refused to look back at the smaller boy.

Eddie let Richie come back to himself for a bit. In an attempt to comfort him, Eddie did the first thing he could think of. He brought both of Richie’s warm hands to his lips and lightly kissed his knuckle.

Richie’s head turned back towards him and his wet eyes landed on where Eddie’s lips were giving him a soft peck. Eddie continued, caressing each finger with soft and quick kisses. Richie just silently watched as Eddie pecked his fingers.

Eddie waited until Richie’s breathing returned to normal again to speak.

“What happened just now, Rich? Why did that scare you so bad?” He said quietly, barely even a whisper.

“I…” Richie stopped, looking down at his hands in Eddie’s instead of the other boy’s eyes. “I thought it took you.”

“You mean… IT?” Eddie hadn’t thought of IT in weeks. It was like a faint and distant dream, even though it had only happened to them a few months ago.

“Yeah.” Another beat of silence.

“Richie, nothing is going to happen to me. We killed it. YOU killed it. It’s okay.”

“I just want to keep you safe!” Richie blurts, almost interrupting Eddie’s sentence. “I thought that it took you from me again.” Richie sniffles, only once. “I don’t know what I would do if it did.”

Eddie just looked at Richie. Tried to memorize the way he bit his bottom lip to stop it from quivering. Wanted to imprint the way Richie’s eyes couldn’t quite meet his while he admitted his confession. It wasn’t very often Eddie got to see this version of his best friend. He wanted to store it for eternity to memory.

“You keep me safe, Rich.” Eddie says. Richie just scoffs. Eddie squeezes both of his hands again. “Hey, you do!” Richie doesn’t reply this time, lost in his tornado of self deprecating thoughts.

Without thinking about it twice, only focusing on comforting his beautiful friend, Eddie utters a few earnest words.

“I love you, Rich.” Eddie breathes. He keeps his eyes steadfast, never faltering from Richie’s expression. He didn’t want to miss anything.

Richie slowly lifts his head again, this time bravely returning Eddie’s gaze.

“W-what?”

“I love you. Richie.” Eddie says again. He is beginning to feel embarrassed now, like that was the exact opposite thing to say, and that it was so stupid of him to think otherwise.

“I love you too, Eds.” Richie says and there is laughter in his voice. Eddie’s eyes widen, eyebrows shooting up, and Richie laughs whole-heartedly now. “I love you, Spaghetti!”

Richie throws his arms around Eddie’s shoulders, and Eddie returns his invitation easily. Eddie is kneeling in between Richie’s open legs and they just stay in that awkward embrace until Eddie’s knees are screaming at him to move.

Eddie leans back, just enough so that his face is a few inches from Richie’s.

“You want to go finish that movie?” He asks softly, not wanting to tell Richie he has to do anything.

Richie just nods, giving Eddie a little mischievous side-ways smirk that he always wears.

“Oh what, Trashmouth, you going to hang that over my head forever now?” Eddie scoffs, returning the smirk at his dumbass friend.

“Yup! Forever. For-fucking-ever, Eds.” Richie’s voice is beginning to sound like his usual self. “It’s going to be the one thing I think of before I go to sleep at night, laying next to you mother after we-”

“Okay! That’s enough! Get off me, you dipshit.” Eddie shoves Richie playfully and stands up, marching back towards the stairs.

“What? No kiss this time? Come on, Eds! Way to send a guy mixed signals here!” Richie calls as he follows him back down to the basement.

#my writing #anonymous #ask #reddie #reddie fanfiction #reddie fanfic #it 2017 #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak

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glorifiedgpjfic · 7 years ago

Text

Glorified G- Chapter 11

The following morning Joanne made a start at painting the bathroom, she had decided to paint the walls a light shade of duck egg blue. It didn’t take her very long to finish painting, there was another room to tackle however it was currently the dumping ground for everything- from laundry to the little furnishings she had bought at Walmart with the paint and brushes. She was planning on making it into a spare bedroom, but that was a mission for another day. By the time she was able to call it a day for painting it was nine, thankful for getting the early start Joanne decided to make her way to the coffee shop she had met Eddie at because the coffee was a perfect blend and she needed a pick me up.

The walk to the coffee works was only ten minutes, when Joanne arrived it was packed, she figured it was the morning coffee run before everyone had to be at work. She joined the end of the queue and took a few minutes to look around at the tables trying to spy somewhere to sit. As she scanned the room she spotted a familiar mop of brown curly hair, she could’ve sworn it was Eddie- she decided to go over and see once she had bought her coffee. She found her eyes fixed on the person while she stood in the queue, after a few minutes the person stood up and left Joanne couldn’t help but feel disappointed when she saw that it wasn’t Eddie, but some random woman. She let out a sigh, soon enough she was at the front of the queue and the shop wasn’t as busy as it had been when she arrived. She ordered a black coffee and made her way to a table that was now free, she took a seat with her back to the wall- ‘prime people watching position’ she thought to herself. Despite her job is to watch people and analyse each thing they do, Joanne still loved to sit and watch people going about their day as normal and she hated to admit but she did sometimes psychoanalyse them out of habit.

She watched as a man dressed all in black with a baseball hat pulled over his face walked into the cafe, he made his way to over to order and as he stood making his order with his back to Joanne and the rest of the cafe she saw the barista taking the order turn white as a ghost, Joanne stared at the interaction for a few more minutes she spotted a large lump in the centre of the man’s waistband at his back. A gun. She snapped into action and dialled 911, she quickly recalled what she believed to be happening- just as the man pulled his gun and aimed it at the barista,

“There is an armed robbery going down- Seattle coffee works. I am a federal agent but I am off duty. Hurry.” Joanne hissed down the phone, she stood and made her way towards the assailant. He must’ve spotted her in his peripheral vision,

“Stay back lady.” He growled, Joanne ignored him and continued to move closer to him.

“Hello, my name is Joanne- I’m with the FBI. Please, can you put your gun down and we can talk about this.” The gun was now aimed at her, the man’s hands were shaking- he’s new to this, she could tell he wasn’t used to holding the gun as he kept changing the hand he was holding it with as if to figure out what is the most comfortable. Joanne also noticed that he had been holding the gun up for a few minutes, meaning that if she could keep talking to him and keep his gun up if he wouldn’t put it down his aim would get significantly worse as his arms will begin to ache from the weight.

“There’s nothing to talk about now go and sit back down.” He hissed,

“Okay, but I think there is something to talk about. Why are you doing this? Do you need money? Tell me why and I can help you.” She kept her voice calm and even, which was incredibly difficult with a gun aimed at her face.

“You can’t help- you’re all the same you pigs- the government swine.” The guy mumbled,

“What have the government done to you? Please tell me your name, I’d like to know who to address.” She pressed him for his name,

“Jordan, it’s Jordan.” Joanne sent him a small smile before taking a deep breath, she tried to ignore the panic that was in the air- the cafe wasn’t busy but there were still people in it. She had to be careful with her wording because she didn’t want him to shoot anyone.

“Okay Jordan, talk to me- please.” He seemed to think about it for a few moments,

“I gotta pay bail for my brother.” Joanne saw his eyes cloud over, for a moment she thought about trying to overpower him in his moment of weakness, but that would most likely lead to him panicking and shooting.

“How much is the bail? What did your brother do?” She had now opened a line of communication, he was talking which was good, she might be able to negotiate him out of this.

“Two thousand five hundred dollars. Assault charges, but he’s a good kid- He’s younger than me and he didn’t mean to hurt anyone, he’s not like that.” Joanne nodded,

“Okay Jordan, I understand that you’ll do anything for family right? But look at where you are, this coffee shop will have a maximum of five hundred in the cash register- but it’s only early in the morning so they won’t have that much. Why don’t you put the gun down and I can look into the case when I go to work tomorrow?” Jordan tensed and suddenly held the gun higher again, it was aimed directly at Joanne’s head.

“You think I’m fucking stupid? Is that it? Miss fucking FBI thinks everyone else is dumber than her.” Jordan’s hands were now shaking significantly more than they were earlier. Joanne could hear the faint sounds of sirens in this distance she sighed,

“Jordan, I don’t think you are stupid at all. I think you are very brave and a very good big brother, there aren’t many people that will go this far for family. I’m sorry if you thought I was insulting you, b-but I promise you t-that’s not what I meant t-to d-do.” Suddenly Joanne found herself stuttering, she had visions of the police barging in and causing Jordan to panic and pull the trigger - killing her. “Jordan, I will try to help you. B-but it’s really h-hard to have a-a conversation with you w-when there’s a g-gun aimed at m-my head.” Fucking hell Joanne get it together- stay strong. Stop stuttering. Jordan lowered the gun so it was now aimed at Joanne’s feet, she let out a breath of relief. The sirens grew louder which caused her to panic. “Thank you Jordan, I wish I had family that would do this for me- I can see it in your eyes that you don’t want to do this. But you’re desperate right? For your brother’s sake.” He nodded and she could see that he had just registered the sound of the sirens,

“Who the fuck called the cops? I’ll fucking shoot!” Joanne put her hands up,

“I called them, but don’t shoot because then you’ll go away for life- which wouldn’t set a good example for your brother would it?” He aimed the gun at her again and she decided that he was a loose cannon, and now he wasn’t thinking straight- he was panicking. “Jordan put the gun down.” A new wave of authority flowed through her voice, “If the police come in here, and see you aiming your gun at a federal agent they will shoot you, and they might even kill you- Think about how your brother would feel then. Knowing you died because you wanted to get him out of jail, he would then have to live with that guilt. Don’t put him through that.” Something in Joanne’s speech did it for him, he threw the gun down on the floor and raised his hands, “Thank you Jordan.” She walked towards him and kicked the gun away from him, she walked behind him and took both of his hands and held them behind his back.

The police arrived soon after and cuffed Jordan, taking him away to the station. Joanne had adrenaline coursing through her veins, her hands were shaking and she felt like jelly. The barista hugged her and thanked her a number of times after Jordan was taken away, the few people in the cafe did the same. She decided to just head home, she called William when she got back and asked him if he could find the case file for Jordan’s brother even though she didn’t have a name or any details, he managed to find it and Ryan wasn’t the angel Jordan painted him as and there really wasn’t anything else she could do. She did her job and protected the civilians at the cafe, she stopped Jordan from shooting anyone, and she did it all before lunch. What a morning.

Joanne felt really deflated after the incident once the adrenaline wore off, she didn’t really know what to do with herself. When the phone rang she practically jumped at it,

“Hello?” She answered, hoping for something to do.

“Hey Jo, I got your message. How are you?” It was Eddie, she broke into a grin.

“Ah Ed, hey. I’m okay, I’ve finished painting the apartment- how are you? It was weird you not being out last night.” The two chatted for a while and Joanne briefly filled him in on the cafe incident. Eddie invited himself over offering to pick up pizza on the way, which was, of course, a win-win for Joanne. She’d see Eddie, and get pizza.

Eddie arrived around five with pizza as promised. Joanne was quick to notice that he seemed glum, she didn’t mention it right away. They ate the pizza and made general conversation after a while Joanne decided to press him about his mood,

“What’s up with you? You seem fed up.” She observed and Eddie didn’t answer for a few moments,

“I just don’t know what to do.” Joanne gave him a look that said ‘go on’, “So back in San Diego, where I lived before I joined the band, I’ve got this girlfriend- Beth. We’ve been dating for years, and now I’m here and she’s there- and I just don’t feel like it’s gonna work. Y’know? I feel like she’ll find someone better, and forget about me- So I just don’t know what to do- I could end it before she cheats, or do nothing and see what happens. I don’t think it will work. But I’ve just been overthinking everything lately.” Joanne nodded as he offloaded his troubles,

“You don’t know that she will cheat, Ed. Give yourself some credit, you’re a really great guy, and if she cheats she doesn’t deserve you. If you’ve been together for years there’s really two things that will happen; The first is that the relationship will reach a natural end, and you’ll outgrow each other. And the second is that you’ll work through it and maybe she’d wanna move out here to be with you.” Eddie gave Joanne a small smile, she hated giving relationship advice because every single one of her relationships had gone to shit. She felt like a hypocrite giving out advice about saving relationships when she never cared enough to fight for her relationships, it’s not that she didn’t care as such- she just felt that when people were giving her ultimatums and drifting away from her she didn’t see the point trying to pull them back.

After the relatively deep conversation, Eddie turned to Joanne,

“What about you? Don’t you have someone back in England waiting for you?” He asked her just as she took a sip of her water, she began to choke and nearly snorted her drink, she coughed a few times and regained her composure,

“Nope, I don’t have anyone waiting for me. I did have a fiance at one point, but he gave me an ultimatum - so that didn’t work out.” Eddie stared at her for a moment,

“What was the ultimatum?” He queried,

“Him or my job. It makes me sound like a bitch, but if you feel the need to make me choose like that I’m not going to choose you. And giving me that decision makes it sound like I was never with him, but I was- I worked seven to five normally then went home to him. He just didn’t take into account that the job is really fucking stressful, and he never let me talk about it- so I had to bottle up all the stress and anxiety and that was way worse than him calling off the engagement.” She sighed and finished off her drink, placing the glass in the sink, “Shall we go and sit in the living room, the sofa is way comfier than these chairs.” She laughed, Eddie nodded and followed her,

“It’s really shitty that he wasn’t there for you. I can’t even imagine what you have to deal with in that line of work, but if you need to vent about it you know where to find me.”

Normally Joanne wasn’t one for hugs, they are a total invasion of personal space, but after Eddie said that she just wanted to hug him. Before they sat down, she walked over to him and wrapped her arms around him, she was a little bit taller than him so his head was at her shoulder, he froze for a second before returning the hug. It was comfortable as if they had known each other for years, they stood like that for a few moments before Joanne spoke up.

“Thank you, Eddie.”

#eddie vedder #eddie vedder fanfic #eddie vedder fanfiction #grunge fanfiction #grunge fanfic #pearl jam #pearl jam fanfiction #pearl jam fanfic #jeff ament #mike mccready #stone gossard #dave abbruzzese #fanfic #fanfiction

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beepbeep-losers · 7 years ago

Note

OKAY SO I just went through and read a bunch of your writing because I’m lame lmaooo but PROMPT IDEA: so Eddie gets a “secret admirer” that leaves him letters and gifts and stuff but whoever it is slowly turns into more of a stalker and they’re crazy and leaving threats in Eddie’s locker etc etc and Eddie refuses to tell the Losers club because he wants to handle it himself but they all find out anyways ( everyone being super protective *cough cough richie* over Eddie is my jam )

Okay first of all THANKS FOR READING MY STUFF you’re rad asfuck for that. Second, this is such a great prompt the losers being protective is???? amazing. Third, I am sorry I am a terrible human and this took so long for me to put out?????? I suck???? forgive me

Warnings: stalker is a stalker and makes threats and is creepy so please please please don’t read if you’ll be triggered by that behavior!!!

This is just a little over 2.5k words!

It started out innocently enough. In all honesty, Eddie wasflattered. He’d gone to his locker one day after third period, and there was anote there, all folded neatly, that read “you’re adorable, Eddie Kaspbrak.” Forabout two weeks, he wanted to believe that his secret admirer that signed hisnotes as “your future boyfriend” was Richie. He was just waiting to ask him. Hethought about it more and more as the notes kept coming: complimenting hisclothes and hair and even his freckles.

His suspicions were solidified when he scratched up hisknees at the quarry one day and he received a note the next morning telling himto be more careful when he swam with his friends. Only the losers had beenthere; it must be Richie! He planned to ask Richie about it after school whenthey biked home together (as always). However, a second note appeared in hislocker after lunch.

“Stop spending so much time with Tozier. You’re starting tomake me jealous, Eddie,” Eddie read in a whisper. He felt cold all of a sudden.None of his friends would write this. Richie certainly wouldn’t. He crumpled upthe note and tossed it into the nearest trashcan, wanting to be rid of it.Holding it felt like holding a threat.

When classes ended that day, he walked home with Richie asusual. The note couldn’t tell him what to do. If his “secret admirer” wastrying to intimidate him, he didn’t want anything to do with him.

There was a picture in his locker the next morning. Apicture of Eddie and Richie on their bikes, laughing. The picture was from theafternoon before, and Eddie felt his heart drop to his ass. What the fuck? Whatthe fuck! This person was following him now? Feeling his lungs tighten, heflipped over the picture to find the same handwriting from the notes. “If youdon’t want your losers club to get hurt, stop flirting with Richie. You’remine.”

Eddie kept the photo. He didn’t know why. Maybe forevidence, or maybe so he could remind himself that this was really happening.He tucked it into the back of his calculus textbook and then fumbled for hisinhaler, taking three puffs from it to desperately try to calm his breathing.

“Eds, what the hell’s got you so worked up?”

Eddie jumped at the sound of Richie’s voice, dropping hiscalculus book.

“Nothing!” he yelped, snatching his book off the floor andshoving it into his locker. “I’m fine, I think it’s just my allergies orsomething.”

Richie gave him a weird look, but shrugged it off. “Wanna goget ice cream before we go home today, Eddie? Dad’s getting off early today andI’m not trying to go straight home.”

Eddie felt his stomach twist. He wanted to say yes, to keepRichie away from his dad for as long as possible. But what if whatever hissecret admirer did was worse? He could mean to hurt Richie, too. Feelingguilty, Eddie answered, “Uh, no, Rich, I can’t. Maybe ask some of the otherlosers.”

The notes kept coming. Some were sweet love letters, likethe first several had been. Some were closer to threats, when he spent too muchtime with the losers. Telling him to be careful. To Eddie, the creepiest thingswere the presents. The gifts that were left in his locker always had somethingto do with something he’d said. A pair of gloves when he said his hands werecold. A bag of butterscotch candies after he’s told the losers that they werehis favorite. And, the most disturbing of all, a small collection of photographsof he and his friends, after he’d been complaining that they didn’t take enoughpictures together. Eddie had missed half of sixth period sick in the bathroomwhen he’d found them.

He couldn’t tell the other losers. This guy, his secretadmirer or stalker or whatever the fuck he was, seemed dangerous. What if hehurt them? Or hurt Eddie for telling them? He seemed to see and hear everythingthat Eddie did. So, not knowing what else to do, Eddie Kaspbrak basically shutdown. He stopped hanging out with the losers unless he was at school with them– and even at school he was quiet and distant. He would rush outside afterschool and leave before Richie could bike alongside him, and leave early in themornings. What hurt him the most was ignoring the pebbles Richie threw at hiswindow at night, and just hoping that he had the goddamn sense to go to Stan’sor Bill’s instead. The notes and presents never stopped, and any time Eddiewasn’t looking down, he was anxiously looking around for anyone watching him.

Of course, the other losers didn’t take long to notice howstrange Eddie was acting. Richie was practically ripping his hair out (on topof feeling pretty god-damned rejected since Eddie had been avoiding him).

“M-meeting after schoo-ool, at my house ” Bill told thelosers (minus Eddie) one day. “We’ve got to d-do something about Eddie.”

It was fortunate that Beverly’s locker was near Eddie’s.Otherwise, she may have never discovered why their friend was acting sostrange. She was on edge, thinking about the meeting that afternoon, andwondering if any of them knew what was going on with the smallest loser. Shewas worried sick about him. She smiled as he got stuff from his locker, only alittle hurt that he barely spared her a glance, but as he left, somethingslipped out of his textbook and to the ground. He hadn’t noticed, and left tooquickly for Bev to tell him to wait. She bent to grab it – and then she sawwhat it was.

A picture of Eddie and Richie, on their bikes. Beverlyfrowned and turned the picture over, then gasped as she read the writing on theback. Her heart beating fast, she tried to make a plan quickly. She had to the tellthe losers about this, but she had to know if there was more. Eddie was headedto calculus; it must have fallen out of that book. Maybe she could find morelater, when the book was back in his locker. She knew his locker combination.

Her plan succeeded; when Eddie rushed off and left beforethe rest of the losers, Bev spun his lock until it opened and grabbed his calculusbook. She flipped through it and found, about three quarters of the way throughthe book, a small bundle of photographs and scraps of paper, all with the samehandwriting. A dark sense of dread in the pit of her stomach, she grabbed themquickly and put them in her backpack. She replaced the book and ran off to meetthe other losers and go to Bill’s.

When the losers settled around the couch and chairs inBill’s den, Bev unzipped her backpack before anyone else had the time to sayanything.

“I’ve got something to show you guys.”

“Bevvie, I know school is stressful or whatever, but now isnot the time for homework,” Richie said. He’d been nervously picking at thetears in his jeans all day, and he was currently twisting a thread of denimbetween his fingers.

“I know, Rich,” Bev snapped. “I found this in Eddie’slocker.”

“Y-you went through his locker?” Bill asked, leaning towardBev curiously.

Beverly snorted, pulling the pieces of paper and picturesout and laying them on the rug in front of her. “Well, one picture fell out andit freaked me out, so I kind of went into his locker later and found more.”

“What the fuck is this?” Richie said, his voicehigh-pitched. He was holding the picture of him and Eddie biking together.“This was from around the time he stopped going home with me.”

Beverly’s heart dropped. “Read the back, Richie.”

“’If you don’t want your losers club to get hurt, stopflirting with Richie. You’re mine.’” Richie was as pale as a ghost, and hedropped the picture back to the floor like it stung him, raising his hands totangle into his hair. “What the fuck.”

“Look at this one,” Stan said, sounding pissed off. He heldup a picture of the losers club at lunch, with Eddie sitting scooted away fromthe others and looking sick. It was from just a few days before. “The backsays, ‘there’s my Eddie, being good and keeping to himself.’” Stan threw thepicture down, his mouth twisted in disgust. “What kind of asshole is givingthese to Eddie?”

“Look at how they’re all signed,” Mike said softly, riflingthrough the things on the rug. “He calls himself Eddie’s future boyfriend.”

“Like hell,” Richie hissed.

“Obviously Eddie isn’t interested,” Ben said soothingly,laying a hand on Richie’s shoulder, “or he wouldn’t look like he’s going topass out in half of these pictures.”

“No wonder he’s b-been so jumpy,” Bill said under hisbreath. “Look at this one.”

It was a note that praised Eddie for keeping away from thelosers, telling him that he’d reveal himself soon if he kept being good.

“He must be so scared,” Beverly said in a hushed voice.“This has been going on for so long. Why hasn’t he told us?”

“He must be terrified,” Stan responded. “This person isbasically threatening him for even talking to his friends.”

“But what are we supposed to do?” Richie whined. “We don’teven know who he is! And Eddie won’t talk to me. I just miss my EddieSpaghetti.” Richie pouted his bottom lip and crossed his arms over his chestchildishly.

“We should go to his house,” Mike said definitively. “Thisguy is following him around. He must be. If we refuse to leave Eddie alone,what can he do? Attack us? It would be at least two to one.”

“He could be dangerous!” Ben protested. “Couldn’t we talkto-“

“To wh-who?” Bill said, taking on what some of the loserscalled his “leader voice.” He looked around at them. “W-we all know that thea-adults in Derry are fucking useless. We’ll protect Eddie ourse-elves. That’swhat we’ve a-always done for each other. At least one of us with him at allt-times, no exceptions.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Bev said. “Our Eddie has astalker and he’s obviously scared shitless. Let’s go steal him.”

“His mother’s gonna fucking kill us,” Richie chirped. “I candistract her.”

“How about you don’t say anything to her at all, Richie,”Stanley said quickly. “Eddie’s mom hates your guts.”

“She likes me in hergu-“

“Beep beep, Richie.”

Eddie was laying in his bed, staring blankly at the lines ofMacbeth, when he heard the knock downstairs. He looked up fearfully. They neverhad visitors. Was it the stalker? Had he finally decided to “reward” Eddie byshowing himself? Eddie felt like throwing up, and seriously considered runningto the bathroom and locking himself in there. He heard his mother answer thedoor and (as always) interrogate whoever was there. He slunk off his bed and tothe door, opening it a crack so that he could hear.

“- it’s r-really important, Mrs. Kaspbrak.” Bill! What washe doing here? What would the stalker do about it? “W-we just really need himat my p-place. I can have my p-p-parents call when we get there so you know he’so-okay.”

“Now, Bill, you know Eddie is very delicate. I just don’t –“

“We know, Mrs. Kaspbrak. We’ll take g-good care of him, wesw-swear.”

“Well, okay, but you’d better be careful, kids.”

“No problem, Mrs. K! I could kiss you!”

Oh fuck Richie was here too. Great. Eddie’s stalker wasgoing to raise hell for sure. He panicked and darted away from his door as heheard his friends (did the entire losers club come???) thunder through hisfront door and up the stairs. He was considering throwing himself in the closetand pretending not to exist when his door burst open as he stood in the centerof his room, a deer-in-the-headlights look on his face.

“Honey, we’re home! You’ve got some ‘splainin’ to do!”Richie said in a bad impression of Ricky Ricardo. He reached forward and pulledEddie to him, rubbing the top of his head roughly with his knuckles. “We foundyour stalker-stash, Eds, and we’re here to save the fuckin’ day.”

“You – you what?” he said, struggling out of Richie’s arms. Theyall looked at him expectantly. “I – uh – I don’t know what you’re talkingabout.”

“You aren’t very convincing, Eddie,” Ben said softly. “We’vebeen worried about you. Bev said you dropped a picture today, and when she sawwhat it was she broke into your locker and found more.”

Eddie looked at Bev, his cheeks turning red. “Bev!”

She didn’t look the least bit repentant.

“Y-you could have told us, Eddie,” Bill said, steppingtoward him and putting a steadying hand on his shoulder. Eddie hadn’t realizedthat he’d started quivering. “But w-we’re here to help nuh-now.”

“Say hello to your round-the-clock bodyguards, EddieSpaghetti!” Richie beamed. “You’re not leaving our sight until your stalkerfucks off.”

“Don’t call me Eddie Spaghetti!” Eddie protested weakly. He movedaway from Bill’s hand, feeling like he might cry or break into tiny pieces. “I –guys – I don’t want you to get hurt. What if he tries to hurt you?”

“He’s already hurt you, Eddie,” Mike said. “And we aren’tgoing to let him scare you anymore. Don’t worry. We’ll keep each other safe. That’swhat we do.”

Eddie felt extremely overwhelmed.

He felt loved by his losers, and he looked around at theirfaces, all showing their concern for him. He was still terrified, for them andfor himself. He didn’t know who the fuck was sending him these things, and hedidn’t know if he would ever know. He knew it would get worse before it gotbetter, especially with the losers making it a point to protect him.

He took a few steps back and sat clumsily on his bed,feeling overridden with emotion. He fumbled for his inhaler and took a pufffrom it.

Richie sat beside him and put an arm around him, and soonthe rest of the losers crowded around as well. Mike sat in the floor and leanedhis head on Eddie’s knee. Bev sat on Richie’s other side but reached over tohold Eddie’s hand. Ben sat on Eddie’s other side and leaned into him. Billpulled up Eddie’s desk chair and shared it with Stan, reaching to grab Eddie’sother hand.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys,” Eddie whispered, eyesclosed. “I should have.”

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up, Eds,” Richie said. “It’salright. We’re gonna make sure you aren’t alone anymore, and if that creepy assmotherfucker tries to mess with you – or any of us – we’ll fuck him up,alright?”

Eddie gave a half-smile.

“And, until this is settled, you will have the pleasure ofme sneaking into your room every night so you aren’t alone.”

Eddie groaned dramatically. “Maybe I’ll stick with theterrifying stalker.”

“Oh, Eds,” Richie cooed in his ear. “You know you love me.”

“Whatever, Rich.”

#i feel......like this is terrible #but i hope it isn't???#let me know okay #reddie #kinda #eddie kaspbrak #the losers club #it fanfiction #it fanfic #it one shot #ashton answers #ashton writes #ty so much for the prompt it was a challenge lmao #tw stalking #tw stalker #anon #prompt

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