#and get mad that my hair smells like cigarettes because shes a chain smoker and then shed give me money and tell me not to tell my brother

[marmalade-chainsaw]

vent in tags because i keep crying

[stenbrozier]

Addict (Teen!Richie Tozier x Reader)

Warnings: drug use/abuse (cigarettes, alcohol, weed), mentions of dead parents + drug overdoses, mentions of rape (not in detail), religious themes (Christianity), angst, violent outbursts, swearing, cute and caring Richie Tozier

Aged up to 17 !!!

Based off the song Using by Sorority Noise

A/N: I needed to write this because I’ve been grappling with nicotine withdrawal and writing is the one way that I can really release this energy. I’m sorry if this offends anyone in anyway. I just really needed an outlet, especially while I’m stuck at home during this quarantine. This is my longest one yet, so I hope you guys enjoy it.

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The moment (Y/N) took a puff of Beverly’s cigarette for the first time, she was hooked. It was nice to have something to hold onto, something to fall back on when everything felt like it was going to shit. After her first cigarette, she asked Bev to get her smokes whenever she was getting herself some because (Y/N) didn’t have the balls to flirt with that creep like Beverly did. She couldn’t just waltz up to Mr. Keene and say that she was getting them for her parents because she didn’t have any parents to get them for. She lived with her aunt and uncle, and everyone knew that they were the most Christian, drug repelling household in all of Derry. They would berate her friends if they walked into the house smelling even faintly of alcohol, weed, or cigarettes, especially if it was Richie. Richie smoked weed all the time but always had to change before he went to pick up (Y/N); however, that didn’t stop him from having a natural drug scent. They had been best friends the majority of their lives, ever since she had moved in next door when they were 7. Her aunt and uncle loved him, loved the way he handled her and helped her through life if she needed it, but they despised the fact that he did drugs. What they didn’t know, was that she did them with him.

Richie would sneak into her room, usually at 1am, and would drag her out of bed to go on walks with him. These walks consisted of smoking cigs or weed, occasionally getting drunk off of a bottle of wine. Richie introduced her to alcohol, and it was something else she started to rely on. Richie noticed how bad she was getting after that. She would go to parties just for the sake of getting drunk, and Richie started to worry every time she got too drunk. Something else that was worrying him was how quickly she finished a pack of cigarettes. Bev would get her a pack, and she’d finish it within a day or two. (Y/N) was a chain smoker; it was very hard to catch her without a cigarette in her mouth. The only time she didn’t smoke was when she was within a 100 feet of her house or inside it, but once she couldn’t see it anymore when they were walking to school or to hang out with the losers, she would light up cigarette after cigarette. Richie tried multiple times to talk to her about it, but she just shrugged it off, saying that it wasn’t as big of a problem as he said it was.

“I don’t smoke all that often,” she would say defensively. “Fucking, come on, Rich. You smoke, too.” She rolled her eyes at him whenever he brought it up. He did his best to talk to Bev, but she would just shrug her shoulders.

“I only buy her one pack a week,” Bev said, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s not my fault she smokes it so fast.”

“You need to stop buying her cigarettes,” Richie whispered back, seeing that (Y/N) was walking towards them. “She’s getting bad, and she’s going to keep abusing it unless you stop supplying.” Beverly sighed, smiling at her best friend as she stopped in front of them, wrapping her in a hug. (Y/N) handed Bev a $10 as she pulled away, asking her to get her the “usual.” Richie knocked into Bev’s shoulder, her glaring at him as he went around to (Y/N). He wrapped my around her waist and she smiled up at him. They’d always been touchy; it wasn’t something that bothered them. They were both touch starved growing up, and they needed that person that would give them that physical attention. It just so happened that they had found each other.

“Don’t...don’t you think you should try smoking weed a bit more,” Bev asked, trying to persuade (Y/N) away from the nicotine. “It’s better for your lungs, anyways. I-I mean not completely, but at least it’s not all nicotine and chemicals and shit.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes, pushing away from Richie because she knew he was behind her questioning.

“I’m fine,” (Y/N) said, kicking her feet along the pavement. “I’m already a few years in anyway. I might as well keep smoking. Besides, you smoke, too. Don’t be a hypocrite, Bevvy.” She shrugged her shoulders, pulling her backpack straps up higher. “Hey! Did you guys hear about Greta’s party tonight? I think I’m gonna go.” Richie gulped, moving swiftly towards the girl and wrapping her in his arms again.

“I’ll-I’ll go with you,” he mumbled, rubbing his hand down her arm. She shrugged looking over at Bev. Bev shook her head and held her hand out.

“Ben wanted to have a movie night,” she answered simply. “Maybe Eds and Stanley will go with you guys.”

“No,” (Y/N) shook her head, “Bill and Mike might though.” She thumped Richie’s head with her pointer finger, a few of his curls shaking from the impact. “We should invite them to the quarry.” Richie shook his head rapidly, which caused Bev to raise her eyebrows.

“Why can’t they come to the quarry,” she asked suggestively as she stuffed the $10 bill into her back pocket. Richie stammered, looking at (Y/N) for help.

“It’s kind of our thing,” (Y/N) said. She freed herself from Richie’s death hold, booping his nose when he frowned. “We go and get high most days. Sometimes we just talk. It’s our time. It’s personal.” She looked over at Richie, who was staring at her with a small smile. “I’m sorry I even suggested it.” She whispered the apology to him, and he nodded, looking over at Bev.

“We’ll see you at the usual time Monday night,” he asked, throwing up finger guns. The Losers usually met at the clubhouse on Mondays and Thursdays. They didn’t have a lot of classes together anymore, so that was their time to catch up and just talk. She nodded back at them, shooting back finger guns, laughing as she ran off to meet Ben at the bike rack. Richie unwrapped his arm from (Y/N)‘s shoulder, reaching his bent elbow out to her with a dramatic bow. She laughed, wrapping her hands in the crook of his elbow and they walked off the quarry.

“Are you sure you want to come to the party with me tonight,” the girl asked. Richie shrugged, looking down at her as they crossed over the rickety Kissing Bridge, ducking under a few trees to get out to the sandy, faux beach that was the quarry. They sat down on the big rock wall, and (Y/N) sighed in content when the sun hit her face. Richie laughed at her, taking his backpack off and sitting down next to her. “You never answered my question.” Richie furrowed his eyebrows at her as he turned his head to look at her.

“What question?” He knew exactly what question; he was just trying to avoid it. In all honesty, he hated going to parties with (Y/N). She always got wasted and left him by himself, and yeah, he liked to drink, but not by himself and not while babysitting his best friend.

“Do you have a problem accompanying me to Greta’s later?” Richie looked over at her, sighing before moving to lay on his side and prop himself on his elbow to look down at her.

“I hate going to parties,” Richie said calmly. “Especially with you, and it’s not because I don’t like you anymore or anything. It’s just...” he thought for a moment, “I’m tired of you walking off and getting wasted and I have to clean you up.” (Y/N) scoffed at him, sitting up as she scooted off the rock. “Don’t get upset. I have the right to hate when you get drunk!” (Y/N) sniffled, tears threatening to fall.

“You know parties are the only time I can let loose,” she responded, her voice getting caught in her throat. “I get wasted because it’s fun, Rich. I never asked you to be my babysitter.” Richie stood up, throwing his arms up in the air.

“You get wasted every single weekend,” he yelled, causing her to flinch slightly. She could tell he was getting pissed off, and she hated when he got angry. He became a bitch, and it wasn’t something that she wanted to see. She made him mad once when they were 14 and he didn’t speak to her for weeks; this was all over her missing one of their quarry meetings because she promised Bev she’d help her dye her hair. “I have to babysit you cause no one else will! No one cares enough, not even you! You’re always getting drunk and it pisses me off. I hate seeing you risk yourself to cirrhosis because of how much you drink!”

“Richie, I’m in perfectly good health!” (Y/N) grabbed her backpack, slinging it over her shoulder. “How much I smoke and how wasted I get doesn’t fucking concern you.”

“Yes, it does,” he said angrily, jabbing his finger at her. “It concerns me because you’re all I have. You’re the only person that I know will be there forever and you...you’re killing yourself! At this rate, you’re gonna get lung or liver cancer before you’re 35! Hell, maybe fucking both!” She tried to walk away, but he grabbed her arm. “I’m not done. I love you, (Y/N), okay? I-I’ve loved you forever and-“ (Y/N) ripped her arm away from him, looking him up and down with tears streaming down her face.

“If you loved me, you’d let me do what I want to do ,” she spat at him. She could feel the tears streaming down her face, soaking her shirt collar. Actually, it wasn’t her shirt at all. It was one of Richie’s shirts that she’d stolen and cropped, but it didn’t matter anymore. She thought about it for a second, looking down at the band that was on it: The Cure. She sighed, looking back up Richie who was grabbing his backpack, too. “I’m going to ask Bill to come with me, instead. Show up if you want, but don’t try confessing your love for me unless you’ll let me be me.”

“Darling, come on,” Richie said, the high pitched nature of his voice scaring him. “Don’t do this. If you don’t love me, just say it.” (Y/N) turned away from him, taking in a deep breath.

“I never said I didn’t love you back,” she whispered. “Just don’t tell me what to do and then think I’m gonna kiss you and throw away every other thing I love to make you happy.” She started walking up the steep hill that separated the quarry from the street. “I’ll see you Monday.” Richie watched as she walked away, and he followed her. He tried to catch up with her but she ran off, too fast for him to catch. He sighed, banging his fist on the splintering wood of the Kissing Bridge.

“Fuck,” he screamed as he started punching the shit out of the bridge, splintering his knuckles and making them bleed.

———————————

(Y/N) got to her house, slamming the door shut and marching over the phone. She had all of the Losers’ numbers memorized, so she quickly dialed Bill. Mrs. Denbrough picked up, and they had a conversation about school as she waited for her son to come down and grab the phone. Mrs. Denbrough said a quick farewell as Bill slipped onto the phone.

“H-hey,” he said and (Y/N) could practically hear the smile in his voice. The two didn’t hang out all too often anymore; they were honestly the most distant out of the group, but that didn’t stop them from loving one another unconditionally. “Do you n-need something?” (Y/N) laughed, rolling her eyes.

“Wanna go to Greta’s with me,” she asked as she twirled the phone cord. “Richie’s being a dick and he’s decided that he doesn’t like getting wasted with me anymore.” She heard Bill sigh and let out a small chuckle.

“W-what time does it st-start? I have b-baseball practice in the m-mor-morning.” (Y/N) sighed, scuffing her shoes against the wooden floor of her uncle’s house as she thought. She shrugged as if he could see her.

“I don’t know. 8ish? But I can always ask Eddie,” she said, taking on a reassuring tone. She hated taking Eds to parties but loved it all the same. It was very difficult to get him to let loose, but when he did, he was the life of the party. “Actually, don’t worry about it. You focus on baseball. Love you, Billy.”

“L-love you, too, (Y/N).” The line went dead and (Y/N) started to dial in Eddie’s phone number. She was prepared for Sonia, since she barely let Eddie touch the phone, and was pleasantly surprised when she heard Eddie’s voice saying a soft greeting.

“Eds! You’ve got to come to Greta’s with me,” (Y/N) yelled. “Pretty please?” She did a pouty lip, more to allow Eddie to hear the desperation in her voice. She heard him sigh, and the sigh felt as if it was in remorse.

“I-I’d love to, but...why can’t you just go with Richie? Trouble in paradise,” he asked mockingly. “Listen, I’ll come by and we’ll talk, and if after we talk you still want to get wasted, we’ll go.” (Y/N) scoffed.

“There is no paradise to have trouble in,” she said defensively. “Besides, the conversation will all be done in vain, Kaspbrak. I always want to get wasted.” Eddie laughed on the other side of the phone, shaking his head.

“Fine. I’ll be over in like 45 minutes so you can get ready for the party with company.” Eddie regretted telling her that the moment he did. He didn’t want (Y/N) to drink anymore, but he wanted her to be happy. Maybe he could convince her to drink a little less tonight and not blackout like she normally did.

“Okay, Eds,” she replied sweetly. “Door will be unlocked, so just walk in. I’ll probably be in my room.” He made a noise in response and then the line went dead. (Y/N) sighed, walking up to her room. She looked out her window and noticed Richie’s blinds were close, so she closed hers as well.

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“Richard, you have to watch what you punch,” Maggie said to him sternly, taking the set of tweezers back to his knuckles to pull out the last few splinters. “I know you were upset, but you don’t have to punch things. Don’t worry, she’ll come around.” Richie scoffed and rolled his eyes, his mother lightly bopping his head to the side when he did. “Go wash off your hand and we’ll bandage it.” She ushered him to stand up, pushing him lightly over to the kitchen sink as she went to the bathroom done the hall for bandages. He sighed, taking the hand soap and putting it on his left hand, rubbing the soapy water over his blood covered right hand. The soap made him cringe, it stinging his cuts a bit. He finished washing it, taking a paper towel and dabbing them to dry them off. Maggie came back with the bandages, going over the him and wrapping them around his knuckles. She secured the antiseptic wrap, giving him a soft kiss on the hand.

“I think I’m going to go to a party tonight,” Richie said softly. “(Y/N)’s mad at me and I-I don’t want her to get too drunk.” Maggie nodded, waving for him to follow her in the living room. They say on the cough and Richie tucked his legs underneath him, feeling his mom’s head on his shoulder.

“Just don’t do anything stupid,” she said, sitting up and kissing his temple. “I’m going to go get things for dinner. Do you need anything?” Richie shrugged.

“More Gatorade?” Richie drank Gatorades all the time. They were packed with sugar and sodium; however, they miraculously calmed him down and made him sit still for once. He looked up at his mom with a small smile on his face, and she pinched his cheeks. She nodded, grabbing her jacket and purse from the coat hanger. She checked her purse for her keys, and she opened the door, ready to leave. “The blue ones!”

“I know, honey,” she replied softly. “I love you.” She walked out the door before Richie had the chance to say it back, but he would’ve been cut off my the phone ringing anyway.

“Hello,” he said, expecting (Y/N) on the line.

“Hey, Rich.” He sighed, disappointed. It was Eddie. “What happened between you and (Y/N)?” He furrowed his brows. She asked Eds to go with him? Damn, she really didn’t want him there.

“She’s pissed I don’t support her chain smoking and excessive alcohol consumption,” Richie replied flatly. “Did she ask you to go with her?” He could practically hear Eddie, nodding a soft sniffle coming from his end.

“Yeah, I’m leaving in a few minutes to help her get ready for the party. You should show up, let her know you still care.” Richie tapped his fingers against the phone, no doubt causing a hollow sound to go through to Eddie’s side.

“I was going to,” Richie said sarcastically. “I also, might’ve, sorta confessed my feelings to her as she was screaming at me to “not control her”, so I need to make up for that.”

“Jesus, fuck, Rich,” Eddie mumbled on the other end. “We’ll talk more tonight. I’ve gotta get to your girlfriend’s house. See you later.”

“She’s not-“ The line went dead before Richie finished. He sighed. “-my girlfriend.” He hung the phone up, marching up to his room to see that there was little light coming in. He shrugged, thinking his mom must’ve dusted the blinds. He opened up his curtain, bringing the blinds up to see that (Y/N)’s were closed. Richie rubbed his hand across his face. They always left their blinds open, no matter how mad they were at one another. She must’ve been pissed.

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Eddie walked into (Y/N)’s house, and he marched up the stairs. He saw that her door was slightly ajar and she was laying out outfits on her bed. He walked in, her hand waving him over.

“Light blue dress with my white Converses or black jeans and one of Richie’s cropped shirts with Docs?” She looked up at him to see him biting his lip, tilting his head to the side to closely examine the outfits. He noticed a blue mark on the white cropped shirt and he pointed it out.

“Is that marker or paint? Get a different shirt you’re not wearing one with a stain on it.” Eddie walked to the closet when she did, looking at all the shirts she had. He noticed a faded olive green top with bell sleeves and he took it down from the rack. “I think this one with the jeans and the white Converses.” He shoved it at her. (Y/N) looked at it, nodding before taking off her shirt and throwing it into her hamper. She slipped the shirt on, going back out into her room to put on the jeans. Once she slipped on the jeans, Eddie looked at her with his head tilted side ways.

“Why are you looking at me like that,” she said, furrowing her eyebrows and frantically looking at her self in her body length mirror.

“Tuck in the front, fix your hair, put on some mascara and lip gloss,” he said bluntly. Eddie ended it with smile and (Y/N) went over and ruffled his hair.

“Thanks for being blunt, love,” she sighed. She dramatically rolled her head around on your neck and sat down at the bench in front of her vanity. “Love my quintessential gay best friend.” She laughed and Eddie rolled his eyes.

“I’m not gay, you bitch,” Eddie said, sitting down on her bed. “But I am pretty sure that you should try to make things better with Richie again. I called him earlier and he was a little bit of a mess. He sounded like he was in pain, I don’t know why.” (Y/N) sighed, finishing up her mascara before she turned around to look at Eddie.

“He closed his blinds, Eds,” (Y/N) shrieked. When Eddie just looked at her weird she sighed. “It means he’s pissed. We never close blinds without talking about it first.” Eddie snickered and (Y/N) shot him a death glare.

“Love birds,” he said, making it sound like a song. (Y/N) rolled her eyes, turning back to her mirror to tussle her hair and make it lay flatter on her shoulders. After a few seconds of changing its position, she sighed and walked over to her desk to grab a hair tie. As she put her hair into a bun, Eddie started talking to her again. “He’s not pissed at you. He’s pissed at what you do. There’s a difference.” (Y/N) scoffed.

“I can do what I want Eds and he just needs to realize it.” She pulled some baby hairs out of the front of her bun, watching as they framed her face and blew from the slight breeze her fan was giving her. “We should eat before. You wanna go to the pizza shop in town for dinner?” Eddie shrugged and thought before shaking his head ‘no.’

“Let’s go to the diner,” Eddie said. “We can at least get healthier food there to combat all the alcohol you’re going to drink tonight.” (Y/N) slipped on her shoes and threw the bird up at Eddie, causing him to laugh. “And don’t forget your lip gloss.” She shoved him out the door, grabbing her purse and shutting her bedroom door behind them.

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After the diner, they walked over the Greta’s and all (Y/N) had in mind was beer. She wondered if Greta had gotten the good kind this time, the craft beer that came from a local brewery in Bangor, or if she got the shitty beer from the grocery store in town. (Y/N) also thought about Richie. He confessed his love to her, which was horrifying enough. She always tried to push her feelings of him away because she knew that they’d got unrequited, but she was quite wrong. He told her he was in love with her, and it made her regret walking away from him. But she wanted to get drunk and he didn’t understand that. Eddie talked her through it at dinner and revealed Richie was going to apologize at the party, or so that’s why it seemed like he was going to do when Eddie called him earlier.

“He isn’t mad at you, babe,” Eddie had said. “He’s mad at himself for letting your alcohol and drug issues get this bad.” (Y/N) didn’t think they were bad. Sure, she smoked too much and got high too often, but she didn’t get drunk more than once or twice a month, tops. She shook her head, looking down at the streets, which were now illuminated with the orange glow of the street lights.

“I’ll be okay,” (Y/N) said slightly above a whisper. She said it more to her self than Eddie, but she looked up to see his eyebrows raised and a major side eye. (Y/N) grabbed his hand, dragging him down the street, causing him to fumble with his fanny pack to make sure the zipper was closed so that nothing would fall out. When they got to the Keene household, there were a few cars already parked out front and they could hear music coming from inside. (Y/N) jumped up and down slightly with a little squeal and Eddie rolled his eyes, smiling slightly at his best friend. They walked into the house and Greta greeted them, pursing her lips together and turning around when she saw who it was. Greta liked (Y/N), but she knew that with (Y/N) came Eddie, the Trashmouth, and the rest of their nerdy friends. They didn’t ruin the parties, though. In fact, their drunk asses made them more fun, so it was whatever. (Y/N) made a b-line towards the kitchen, smiling when she saw vodka and whiskey as an option, too. She grabbed a cup, pouring and taking three shots of vodka while Eddie watched awkwardly from the side, tapping his fingers on the granite counter.

“You drinking already,” said a deep voice from behind them. (Y/N) turned around to see Ryan, a kid who was in her science class. He was the second best baseball player on the high school’s team, trailing behind Bill who already had 7 scholarships as a junior. Ryan had 4 and was extremely popular. (Y/N) smirked a little, shrugging her shoulders as she looked at Eddie and raised her eyebrows a few times. She grabbed a beer from the cooler, the good kind, and opened it with the ring in her finger.

“It’s a party, what else am I supposed to do,” she replied with a hint of over sweetness in her voice. Eddie noticed and smiled dramatically at Ryan before dragging the girl away from him and out into the backyard, where people were smoking weed and jumping into the pool. “Eds!” (Y/N) whined as she looked back into the house through the big windows, seeing Ryan grabbing a red SOLO cup and pouring whiskey into it.

“We should wait for Richie somewhere by ourselves,” Eddie replied, dragging her over to a bench swing that Greta had in her backyard. “We’ll just sit here and wait.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes, standing up and going back to the house. Eddie quickly got up, tripping as the bench swung back and made him slip on the grass. When he caught up to her, she was talking with Ryan in the living room. The party had gotten exceptionally more crowded in such a short amount of time, and he stood on his tiptoes to look over the crowd and at the front door for Richie. When his eyes met the closed door, he sighed and walked over to the kitchen, grabbing himself a SOLO cup. He looked at the drinks, ultimately deciding he’d make something (Y/N/N) taught him: a Cape Cod. He poured about three shots of vodka into the cup and then topped it off with cranberry juice. Eddie took a sip of it, grimacing when he tasted how strong the vodka was. As he poured more cranberry juice in, he heard heavy footsteps coming into the kitchen.

“‘Sup Eds,” Richie said softly, clapping his hand on his shoulder. “Why’s (Y/N/N) not with you?” Eddie took another sip of his drink and pointed out towards the living room, seeing the jock she was with heads over everyone else. Richie followed Eddie’s eyes and cursed under his breath. “I-I’m gonna go talk to her.” Richie shoved through the crowd, making his way towards the two. He appeared behind Ryan, causing your too furrow your eyebrows as Ryan yelled over the music about college or drugs or something. You tapped Ryan’s shoulder and pointed to the kitchen, silently letting him know you were “getting another drink.” You looked at Richie disdainfully and sighed when you heard his footsteps following you. Eddie smiled at you, glad to see you were okay.

“What the fuck, Rich,” you yelled, stomping your foot on the ground. “I thought I told you to leave me be.” He reached out to grab your arm, but you yanked it away, taking a long swing of your beer and finishing it off. You abandoned it on the counter, walking around Eds to get a SOLO cup.

“What happened to the one you had literally half an hour ago?” Eddie asked, scoffing as you shrugged at opened the green apple flavored Smirnoff that caught your eye. Richie took it right out of your hand, capping it and holding it above your head.

“No more.” He grabbed your hand, sticking the bottle back on the counter behind you as he dragged you out of the kitchen.

“Richie I’ve barely had anything,” you whined, stumbling over your feet as you got pulled into the hallway that lead to the front door. Eddie followed close behind, taking tiny sips of his drink as he helped Richie push you out of the house. “What the fuck! You guys are no fun.” You crossed your arms, allowing Richie to shove you into the passenger’s seat of his beat up Buick Regal. Eddie hopped in the back. When Richie got into the driver’s seat, you smacked his arm out of rage, tears welling up in your eyes. He started the car and pulled off the street, taking a few turns to get to Eddie’s house.

“If you need help with her, call me,” Eddie said quietly to Richie before reaching around front and giving (Y/N) a kiss on the forehead. “I love you, (Y/N/N).” You sighed in response, squishing yourself into a ball and moving closer to the window. He quickly got out of the car, closing the door and running up to his house. Richie drove up into the intersection, making a left and heading towards where Mike lived, to the farmland.

“Home’s right, dumbass,” you spat softly, rolling your eyes as he kept straight ahead. You looked down at his hands on the wheels, and through the dim streetlights, you could see that his hands were extremely white and wrapped in bandages. Usually, they had a pinkish tone to them, but all traces of that were gone. The bandages were stained a little with blood, so you figured he punched the shit out of some wall. He was mad. Richie was angrier than you had ever seen him, and you hadn’t even looked at his face yet. Tears stung your eyes when you saw the familiar dip in the trees that lead down into the quarry. He parked his car right at the top of the hill, getting out without a word. You got out, too, following him down into the quarry. When you got there, you saw him sit down on the rock and put his head in his hands. You came and sat next to him, folding in on yourself by wrapping your hands around your knees which were pulled up to your chest.

“I told you I didn’t want you to go to that party,” Richie whispered. He ran his hands up into his hair, the curls falling over his forehead when he violently slammed his hands down on his lap. He looked over at you, a scowl on his face and tears in his eyes. “That guy was going to get you drunk and fuck you. He was going to fuck you, and you were going to let him.”

“Richie, I would’ve said no,” you said defensively. “One, my standards aren’t that low, and two, I wouldn’t want him to touch me while I was sob-“ Richie scoffed, shaking his head.

“You were on your way to being wasted as soon as I got there, darling.” He stood up, kicking the small rocks that lines the big boulders. “He was going to rape you. I could see it.” You looked down at your hands without answering, feeling tears well up in your eyes. “You can’t ever go to party without me again. I have to protect you.” You started crying, sobs racking your body as you wiped your eyes in your sleeves.

“Says the one who told me he didn’t care what I did not even 6 hours ago,” you yelled, pointing at him as tears continued to fall down your face. “You’re a piece of shit! Ya know that, Richie? You want to help people, but then you just trample over everything they love, including people.” Richie furrowed his eyebrows, confused at the end of her statement.

“People? I’ve never purposely hurt someone in my whole li-“ (Y/N) pointed to his knuckles.

“What did you do?” (Y/N) asked, sniffling as she tried to calm herself down. “You punched the shit out of something, I can tell that much. I just don’t want you hurt.” Richie sighed, sitting down next to the girl who looked so small compared to the rocks and big trees behind her that were faintly highlighted by the moonlight.

“Now you understand,” Richie responded calmly. “I don’t want you hurt. Drinking hurts you. Smoking hurts you.”

“You know why I do it,” (Y/N) interrupted. “It makes me forget, drinking especially. I hate thinking of them so much. They’ve been gone for years, but I can’t stop thinking about them. So, I try to destroy my mind enough to forget for a little while.” Richie hesitantly put an arm around her, and when she melted into him, he pulled her closer and kissed the top of her head.

“I don’t understand that,” Richie answered. “But I can tell you that drinking and smoking is just going to get you closer to where they were. They were so addicted they died, babe. Died.” He shoved his face into your hair, sniffling as he held you super tight for a few seconds while he paused. When he pulled away, he brought one of his hands up to your cheek. “I-I can’t have you dying on me.” You looked up at Richie, tears falling down his face as he stared into your eyes. You leant up closer to him, bringing his face down to yours and kissing him on the lips. He was taken by surprise and pulled away immediately, a confused expression on his face.

“A-are you okay,” you questioned. “I shouldn’t have kissed you, I’m sorry. You just...earlier you told me that you loved me and I love you too and I thought I’d kiss you because-because this is a meaningful moment and-“ Richie planted his lips back into yours, causing you to melt into him. After a few seconds, he pulled away and rubbed his thumb over your cheekbone as he smiled at you.

“I love you too much to lose you,” he said softly. “I-I don’t care you smoke or drink...just-just don’t get excessive, okay? That’s my worst fear, honestly, you becoming an alcoholic or dying of lung cancer.” You snickered a little, Richie look at you in confusion.

“I’ll take it easier, ya goof.” You wrapped your arms around his torso and you stuffed your face in his neck. “Whenever I go to a party, I’ll make sure you protect me from all of the big, scary guys.” Richie laughed at that, and he ended up having to pull away to catch his breath.

“I’ll do my best, princess,” he said back, his laughing fit still leaving his body. “I will definitely do my best.”

[linssikeittomies]

Apocalypse. In 50 Years. Chapter 2 (WIP)

I have zero inspiration to write this story -_- I can’t even name the chapter, let alone finish it... Anyone, please adopt this project if you find it even the least bit interesting.

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Ahh, Saturday morning! Nowhere to go, nothing to do but enjoy the soft bed and drift in and out of sleep for as long as I want… “GAAAH!” What the fuck?! Rapture is standing right next to my bed, peering down at me like it’s totally normal! What is wrong with her?! “I see you are awake”, she comments flatly. “I see you camped out next to my bed!”

I don’t remember her being there in the evening, did she come in later to guard my sleep? ‘Cause I would appreciate her doing it a bit further away! And she’s still not making any kind of move to give me some peace! “Do you mind?” She just tilts her head like a dog trying to understand something. Well, my morning’s already ruined, so might as well get up early. “I wanna get dressed. I prefer not to have an audience.” Rapture leaves the room and closes the door behind her without a word. Surprisingly enough, she doesn’t start talking with (or rather, complain at) Meta, either. I dig out some clothes again, going through outfits to see which elicits the least sense of wrong. But all of them feel exactly the same – not wrong at all. Just what is going on? Should I be worried? I’m not gonna lie, I’m relieved the feeling is at long last gone, after suffering from constant pressure for damn near a decade, but having it just disappear like that! Does… does it have something to do with my guardian angel? Rapture said she and Meta replaced the guardian angel I had, and I stopped feeling wrong right after the hand waved me goodbye… Wow, jerk move, guardian angel! Making me feel like crap about myself, never letting me know what’s right, nooooo, everything just had to be wrong! Thanks a bunch! That’s your idea of guidance? Forcing me to choose what feels a fraction less wrong? Unbelievable! Seeing Meta passed out on the couch doesn’t do much to lift my spirits, either. You’d think an angel would take her job of guarding the grandmother of Christ just a tad more seriously. Rapture might have been stalking me in my sleep, but at least she was awake for any possible threats rushing in the window or whatever. And speaking of her… The reason she stayed quietly earlier was because she wanted to complain to me once I got out. “Look at her! She is terrible! She sleeps all night and most of the morning, some of the day even!” Honestly, why meeeeee? These two maniacs are gonna drive me to manslaughter. “And even her waking time she wastes on TV and punching walls!” Heaven has TV? Or did these two just mainly spend their time on Earth? What would a Heaven TV show even be about? Mostly reality, or news, or dramas? I have a little trouble believing creatures of virtue would make soap operas. I mean, I doubt they have genitals to cheat on their spouses with. And their kids couldn’t get into drugs, due to, you know, not existing? Or… hmm. Well, I could just ask - if Rapture would let me get a word in edgewise. “What am I to do with this lazy sack of immorality? I have never had this problem with any of the other garrison members! I might even say she is doing this on purpose! Just look! She has yet to even stir!” Yeah, it really was starting to look like Meta was pissing off her partner on purpose. No one should be able to sleep through her shrill nagging. Could it really be possible they had worked together for so long Meta simply got used to it and it turned into background noise? Was that what the “blessed silence” was about? Rapture finally shut up for five minutes and it kinda scared Meta? Now that I thought about it, her voice hadn’t been at all the tired-of-this-crap bitchy tone, but all, like, soft and full of wonder. It was almost… I dunno, endearing? That someone who pretended to be such a tough gal could go deredere from something so simple as silence? Was Meta secretly a tsundere? I wonder if she watches anime? Oh, Rapture had actually quieted down at some point. Am I already so used to her nagging it turned into background noise? Crap, and she’s looking at me so expectantly, too. She wants an answer. I panic so I shrug, and go to making breakfast much noisier than needed, both to get Rapture off my back and wake up Meta. And surprisingly enough, I achieve both goals! Rapture is for some reason more interested in my cooking than harassing me for an answer, and Meta stirs soon enough, and for once looks pretty content. Well, at least for a full five seconds, then she notices Rapture and her face sours right back into Warheads territory. Rapture’s gown has a definite blue undertone this morning, and I’m pretty sure her hair is also curlier than yesterday. And of course I saw her removing her wings yesterday, so clearly angels can change their appearance at will, and Rapture does it as both emphasis and whim. Meta, on the other hand, looks exactly the same as yesterday, I don’t think even her hair part has moved a single millimeter. Why would she choose to look so plain? I’m really lucky for my natural good looks so I don’t actually need to use much makeup, but miss Asuka here could look like anything she wants, literally just by wanting! She could be a hundred times more beautiful than me equipped with all the makeup skills in the universe! Rapture sits next to me at the table, while Meta stays on the couch. She’s still technically at the table, since it’s pushed against the back of couch. There’s not enough room in my place to separate the furniture by much. I wouldn’t even bother with a table if I didn’t need a surface to sew on. Doing it on the floor was a massive pain for the two weeks I tried to endure. As Rapture watches me eat in keen attention, I start feeling rude for not offering them anything. I doubt angels need to eat - but then again, I never expected they could be plain, bitchy lesbians. “Do angels need to eat? ‘Cause I can make you guys something if you’re hungry.” “We are beings of pure energy, and as such are incapable of consuming anything material”, Rapture says proudly, still staring at me chewing. Careful there, you could make a girl self-conscious. “Doesn’t mean we can’t still like eating”, Meta quips, not even fully facing me. I’m hoping it’s because then she would also have to see Rapture, and not because she’s an ass. “Well, I have tea, coffee, eggs, bread, um, not really much else… The selection's not great, but it's there if you’d like something.” “Nah, I only like smokes.” Figures. On the plus side, now I don’t need to waste my depleting reserves on someone this rude. Rapture also declines, because she finds consuming food disgusting. I don’t get it, but hey, I’m not a being of pure energy. Rapture takes in a breath and turns to Meta, who immediately announces she’s going to get some damn smokes already. I can’t say I really blame her, Rapture was obviously right about to start another rant. Still, if she starts smoking inside, I’ll have to take McNaggety’s side. Surprisingly enough, Rapture makes no move to follow her. She just sighs deep and frowns slightly. “...The material might do nothing for us physically, but the psychological effects can be great.” “So, you’re saying Meta is addicted to nicotine?” Now that’s a weird thought. An angel, addicted to a substance of vice! Ha! “No, to the placebo calming effect”, Rapture specifies. “She has simply decided smoking is calming, and now her psyche reacts to cigarettes that way.” She doesn’t even look all that angry. I get the impression Rapture actually likes Meta a bit and lashes out because she’s tired of seeing her ruin her own life. “There are times when I worry about her greatly, it is not good for a Heavenly creature to rely on Earthly materials. And she is a chain smoker.” Yeah, she actually does sound worried. I had her pegged as the can-only-feel-mad-at-lesser-beings-type, but maybe they’re both tsundere? “Wonder what she’s so stressed about.” “I would not know. She has been like that since before she came to my employ.” “And how long have you worked together?” And there goes all the worry right out the window. Rapture scoffs like I asked the most ridiculous question in the world with the most obvious answer in existence, and assumed she didn’t know it. “Together? She is my underling. She works for me, not with me.” Yup, that settles it, Rapture is just a dick who can’t think of others as sentient beings. Meta doesn’t seem like the ideal employee, I’ll give her that, or even a conventional angel, but she still has feelings and worth. “And to answer your question, she has worked for me for 57 years.” I suddenly have less desire to interact with her than a puddle of vomit, so I quietly down the last of my porridge. I wanna complain to Saida, but with the disaster of Meta cursing out Ricky yesterday, I don’t feel like introducing those two firecrackers to each other. And I’m not pathetic enough for vaguebooking, so suffering alone it is. Checking emails - nothing about the lecture materials being fixed yet, facebook – the same old clickbait articles as yesterday, class whatsapp – 200+ new messages, last one from yesterday about Ellie’s party tomorrow, tumblr – not touching that with an angel of the Lord looming over my shoulder…

About ten minutes into 9gag Meta comes back in the front door, visibly calmer and smelling faintly of cigarette smoke. Rapture said they’re completely incorporeal, but then shouldn’t the smell not linger? Maybe their bodies are just a teeny tiny percentage physical? As I scrunch up my nose, Meta realizes this and actually apologizes for the smell. Guess she really needed those smokes, huh. There might even be a decent person somewhere inside that smelly old curmudgeon. But back to that physicality question. “Can you feel touch?” I ask. “Or, more like, can you be touched at all? If you’re not physical, I mean.” “We can be touched, sure, because the more power an angel has the more corporeal their body has to be”, Meta explains without a hint of condescension. She becomes thoughtful, and crosses her hands. “But we have no nervous system, our psyche has to consciously create the feeling. Most of us have no interest in creating autonomous sensations, ‘cause it takes a lot of effort for not much gain, but it is possible.” “That’s pretty interesting.” She smiles sadly, and I’m thrown off track. She really goddamn needed those smokes. “For humans, I guess. I might be the only angel to ever use it.” But then Rapture scoffs loudly and Meta remembers who else is in the room, and the moment is gone. She glares at her with poison daggers in her eyes, basically challenging her boss to just say something, motherfucker. Trying to defuse the bomb, I say the first thing that comes to mind. “That’s pretty cool, you can’t get hurt accidentally!” And it works. Rapture proudly announces she has never been hurt, because she never imagined what it feels like, and Meta simmers down to thoughtfully stroke her palm with a thumb.

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Both angels have a reason for why they act the way they do. Whether they’re good reasons or not is another matter entirely.