#billy does them slowly thinking he looks very cool but it's just dorky as well

[weird-an]

Steve's heart races when he hears some noise coming from the backyard. His thoughts wander to monsters with too many teeth and no faces, but then he hears water splashing around. Demdogs don't go for a swim, do they?

He walks outside and stops, blinded by the sun's brightness and then the scene in front of him.

"Are you fucking serious?" he asks.

Billy Hargrove floats along the pool on a red swim ring, a blunt in his hand. Eddie Munson sits on the edge of the pool, hair already wet and drinking a beer.

"Hey pretty boy," Billy just says as if he's hanging out at Steve's pool every fucking day. With Eddie Munson. Steve didn't even know they knew each other.

"You work at a pool, Billy." Steve doesn't even know why he feels the need to point this out. "Why are you here?"

"I like this one better." Billy shrugs and tries to kick a bit of water into Steve's direction.

Eddie hums in agreement. "Too many people oogling him." He gives Steve a sly grin. "You wanna join us?"

He says it like it's an innuendo. And why would Eddie give a shit about people staring at Billy? People stare at Billy all the time. Steve does, too. He just hopes no one notices.

"Are you inviting me to hang out with me... at my place?"

"Bingo!" Eddie shoots fucking finger guns at him.

"Don't be lame," Billy tells Steve, stretching his arms. Steve can see drops of water rolling down his golden skin. He's got a bite mark on his chest.

Steve's throat goes dry. He stares back at Eddie who winks at him. "If I get a joint, too."

"I'm very good at sharing," Eddie promises. Steve thinks of the red mark on Billy's skin and hopes Eddie is telling the truth.

[bogambiance]

Two Slow Dancers - a Reddie short

Does it smell like a school gymnasium in here?

As soon as the town car passed the “Welcome to Derry!” sign, memories began pouring relentlessly into Eddie’s mind. They had started flickering on slowly when Mike had called, like Christmas lights left on well into the spring. But those memories had been almost exclusively awful. The moments of terror which had been seared into him like a brand steaming out first. His mother, his bedroom door locked from the outside, a tray of pills, Henry Bowers...It. Now however, some rose colored bulbs were being screwed in, and Eddie felt the headache he’d had since Mike’s call start to ease.

He remembered Bill, how much he had adored Bill, the stutter he worked on throughout their friendship, the deep sadness in him. He remembered Mike, strong and kind and reliable, laughing so deeply it made Eddie grin. He remembered Stan being smart and snarky and observant. He remembered going to him when it felt like there was no one else, and he remembered him hugging Eddie wordlessly. He remembered Ben, and almost in the same moment Beverly. Sweet Ben and fiery Beverly. He remembered caring for Ben’s and Beverly’s wounds alike, remembers them lifting up their shirts or pants and letting him dab an antiseptic pad. He remembered Ben’s books and his drawings. He remembered Beverly’s loud guaff and her urging for him to “do it Eddie, nothing matters,” but in a nice way.

And all at once, like someone pushed him backwards off a swing or tore a rug out from under his feet, Eddie remembered Richie. It felt like he remembered everything in that moment, but he was sure that couldn’t be true. Because with every memory he regained he understood more clearly the hole that had been gaping in his life for 27 years. He remembered Richie’s big dorky glasses, and the clear blue eyes behind, always looking right at Eddie. He remembered Richie’s cologne he stole from his dad and how strongly it smelled at the base of his neck. Eddie felt his breath hitch as he remembered fervent kisses behind closed doors. He remembered being 17 and in love and happy and fucking gay oh my god and optimistic but mostly in love.

Things slid into place in his mind in a terrifying and relieving way. Reasons he never felt quite right about women.

The first time they kissed they were at the Barrens, had wondered away from the rest of their friends dozing lazily in the sun. Richie had promised Eddie that he had “something really cool!” to show him and Eddie believed him. And Eddie wanted to be near him. They walked along the thick tree line until the wall of rock stood high opposite them, across the water. It was like they had travelled down into an impossible valley, like they were the only two people in the world.

“Okay, ready?”

Eddie had nodded furiously.

Richie lifted up the bottom of his T-shirt and showed Eddie a little mark, a smudge possibly, on the front of his hip under his abdomen.

“What is it?”

“It’s a stick and poke. Beverly did it for me.”

Eddie learned in, painfully aware of how close he was to Richie’s pelvis, and examined the “tattoo.” It was red and a little puffy. It was an ‘E.’

“Why did...that looks infected.”

Richie had huffed, irritated, and pulled his shirt back down.

“Can you not talk about infections for like two seconds?”

Eddie remembered rolling his eyes. “What’s ‘E’ stand for?” Richie didn’t respond, merely looked at him with a small, almost bashful smile.

“What do you think, dipshit?”

The implication hit Eddie a little late, but when it did he grabbed Richie’s face and kissed him hard. It was clumsy and teethy and wet and Eddie felt it on his lips in the back of that town car and remembered the feeling of being in love.

It's funny how they're all the same

At China Dragon, Eddie marveled at the state of his old friends. There was gray hair and bald spots and freckles he remembered the location of for no good reason. There were chiseled jawlines and stoic expressions and god so many memories were in his head it hurt. He had touched Beverly’s hair gently and let Bill hug him tightly. He ran his thumb over the scar on Stan’s jaw that you couldn’t quite see anymore but he knew was there. He searched the corners of the room for the person he knows he would have noticed immediately if he was indeed here. Maybe he wasn’t coming. Maybe he was dead.

And then he walked in, like he had never left, and Eddie felt the breath leave his body briefly. His brown curls were still falling, messy, around his face, but they were a bit shorter now. There were small streaks of gray it in, too. His thick glasses distorted his eyes but he could still see that they were, just as he remembered, locked in on him. His hands were stuffed in his pockets. He said something to the group, and Beverly hugged him, but Eddie couldn’t say what it had been. The welcome wagon passed and Richie walked towards him.

“Hi Eds,” he said quietly.

“Don’t call me that.”

It's funny how you always remember

Richie cracked a smile and pulled him in for a tight hug. Eddie let himself be molded against Richie’s body in the closeness of the embrace. He didn’t have to think at all about it.

And we've both done it all a hundred times before

He knew his face fell to rest in the crook of Richie’s neck. He knew his arms wrapped up around his shoulder. Richie knew his hands snaked up Eddie’s back under his shirt. He knew that he always drew him closer at the waist. It gave Eddie chills, how familiar it was. That, and the way Richie raked his fingernail as across them skin of his back. Instinctively, Eddie opened his mouth against Richie’s neck. Maybe to laugh at first, to say something, but the urge to bite him rose very suddenly in his mind. He managed to ignore it. He pulled away quickly after. Richie was smiling.

It's funny how I still forgot

Dinner was surprisingly lovely. He had been unable to realize what he was missing without these people, but the yearning he had for them had never eased. He recognized characteristics, turns of phrase, sounds, looks, exchanges as things he had gotten from his old friends. He felt Richie slid his hand on his thigh, on his back, through his hair and Eddie leaned into he. He remembered, slowly, these people knowing. These people loving them all the same. He remembered how right it felt to be near them, near Richie. It felt so right it hurt deep inside that he had lived most of his life without them. Tomorrow he might die. He would die without getting to meet Stan’s wife or see Billy’s movie. Without visiting one of Ben’s buildings or going to one of Beverly’s catwalks. Without getting to experience life with Richie like he was meant to.

Because Eddie knew he was supposed to have spent the last 27 years with Richie. It had always been and still was him, only him. A deep pang of sadness bloomed inside of him. It ballooned up through his throat and he felt his eyes begin to water. It wasn’t fair. They’d already had their childhood stolen, but that hadn’t been enough. It wasn’t fair.

He realized he had said the last bit out loud when Richie looked at him with his head turned ever so slightly to the side. He remembered that too, those moments of puppy dog confusion. Eddie looked down at his hands and bit his lips to keep from crying. It wasn’t fair.

It would be a hundred times easier

Eddie remembered being 17 and in love most of all. He remembered being so sure that even though he was going to Maine State and Richie was going to UCLA they would stay together. That after a year Eddie would transfer there too and they would live openly in Califnoria, finally. Eddie daydreamed about holding Richie’s hand in public. He daydreamed about their apartment together, their dog, their child. He daydreamed about marrying him in an big open field with his best friends there.

He had been so confident.

If we were young again

Now as he sat next to Richie, he realized the unbearingly small amount of time they had together. One day. A few hours. He wanted to go back in time and scream at his 17 year old self. Like Richie had screamed at him. He wished he had listened.

They had been at Richie’s house. His parents hadn’t been there. They were both yelling.

“Eddie are you just gonna life your whole life for her? You gonna live and die for her? Pretend to be straight for her?”

“You don’t understand-”

“You’re the only person who has to live your life. You’re the only person who has to wallow in your self created misery.”

Eddie sighed to push back the tears in his voice. “I know, okay? I know.”

“Then why are you doing this?” Richie bridged the distance between them suddenly, and knelt down in front of him. Even so he wasn’t that much shorter than Eddie. “Come with me. We’ll get an apartment together. You can go to trade school there, be a mechanic. It’ll be so good Eds.”

He couldn’t quite stifle it anything longer. A sharp sob escaped his chest. “I want to.”

“Then do it,” Richie grabbed his hands in his own. “Please.”

There were a million things Eddie wanted to say but couldn’t articulate. He wanted to explain that his psyche was deeply imbedded into his mother’s abuse. That to separate himself cold turkey from it, from her control, was going to be almost impossible. That Richie should drug him, strap him into the passenger seat, and just drive. He knew he wasn’t doing the right thing or the healthy thing. And he couldn’t stop it.

Because abuse isn’t tidy. You don’t get to cast it off and run off into the sunset to California with the love of your life. It pulls you down like quicksand if you try and leave too quickly. It drips down your throat like mud if you try and protest. No, it isn’t fair, Eddie knew. It isn’t fair that my happiness has always been at the bottom of the swimming pool. That I only have this moment.

But as it is

But it’s all I got.

When dinner was over he didn’t say anything, just followed Richie to his room. If he was surprised he didn’t show it. He’d left his wedding ring on the table.

And it is

Wordlessly, they fell into the bed with together. They had barely talked, were barely talking. There was a mountain of things to say between them and if they started to climb, the horror of its size would set in. They had so little time. Eddie didn’t want to feel afraid right then. He could be, would be, afraid tomorrow. But not then.

He remembered Richie’s body without having to think about it. He didn’t have time to think about how he’d lost his virginity to him, to dwell on all the awful sex he’d dad since forgetting him, to consider how many sessions of shameful masturbation had been focused on hazey memories of curly hair and calloused hands. He kissed Richie’s jawline and his shoulders, worked his way down to the tiny letter ‘E’ on his hip. He kissed it mournfully, and moved on before he could think too much about it.

They started slow, mostly because Eddie was nearly thirty years out of practice. But also because there was no need to rush. They had nothing even close to enough time to talk. But they had enough time for this.

We're just two slow dancers, last ones out

Richie came first, inside Eddie, their foreheads pressed together. Richie tried to tuck his face into Eddie’s shoulder, but no, he wasn’t having that. He grabbed Richie’s face in his hands and pulled it back towards his own, to watch intently as Richie fell apart. It was like he melted in his hands. His eyes rolled back just a little, and his eyelashes fluttered. His mouth fell into an ‘O’ and Eddie moved one thumb to drag across his mouth. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen and he wanted to see it again and again and again. He did not let himself think that he might not get to.

We're two slow dancers, last ones out

Eddie finished in Richie’s mouth, forcefully and without much fanfare. And even still, Eddie felt like he would float off the bed if Richie didn’t hold him down. Luckily he did hold him down. Nothing, not even the best of it, had ever been like that. Again he was struck like a swift slap in the face with how much he had missed out on.

And the ground has been slowly pulling us back down

Eddie cralwed back into the bed after cleaning up. The sheets smelled like their sweat and Richie’s cologne. Eddie brought it to his face and inhaled.

Richie pulled him up so that Eddie was laying with his head on his chest. He couldn’t quite hold it in anymore. Hot, wet tears flowed down his face and onto Richie’s chest hair.

“Ssh,” Richie has whispered into Eddie’s hair, “everything is okay.” Richie took a steadying breath. “Eddie, in two days-”

“We’ll both be dead?”

You see it on both our skin

Richie chuckled in an empty kind of way. “No. Let me talk. In two days, will you marry me?”

Eddie snorted. Considered saying I’m already married, Rich or it’s illegal, Rich or one or both of us will be dead, Rich. But he didn’t.

“Yeah, sure.” Richie barked out a laugh.

“Yeah, sure? Love you too Spaghetti.”

Eddie smiled. “I do.”

“You have to wait for the priest to ask you, Eddie.”

“No!” Eddie rubbed his face on Richie’s chest hair, smelled him again. “I do love you.”

“I love you too.”

We get a few years and then it wants us back

Richie dozed off first, snoring a little. Eddie gently took his glasses off his face and put them on the bedside table. In the partial light spilling out from the bathroom, he could just make out Richie’s features. With his hand shaking slightly, he dragged his finger from Richie’s brow bone to his chin, making several stops along the way. Then he continued down his body. Richie had acquired several other tattoos, along with a few scars. Eddie wondered briefly where they had come from, who he’d been with when he got them, who he’d been when he got them. He assumed Richie had had a glorious life even without him. Full of fame, travel, beauty, men. Eddie’s own life was nearly the exact opposite. Obscurity, monotony, fog, Myra....

At the risk of wasting even one moment of this time with Richie thinking of that, Eddie laid his head down on Richie’s chest and listened. Thur-rump. Thur-rump. He wondered what it would have been like at Richie’s side these past 27 years. He fell asleep happy for the first time in since he was 18.

It would be a hundred times easier

Down in the sewers, Eddie was leaned over Richie, shaking his shoulders after he’d fallen from the dead lights.

“I did it Richie! I killed It!”

Finally, Richie opened his eyes. He looked lost for a moment, but once his eyes found Eddie’s, they focused in. Richie smiled.

“I did it! It’s dead! I killed-!”

If we were young again

Then it was Richie’s turn to lean over Eddie’s crumpled body, impaled and losing light. Richie ran his fingers over his mouth, touched the blood there.

“Eddie, Eddie! We did it! It’s dead!”

He couldn’t be losing him. They’d beaten It before, and now, finally, for good. They could continue, together. He couldn’t lose Eddie. Not now. Not after all this.

“It’s dead! Eddie, come on!” Richie’s voice broke as rocks crumpled above their heads. “Eddie please!”

But as it is

“Richie we have to go,” Beverly urged. “I’m so sorry baby. He’s gone. We have to go.”

And it is

Richie pulled Eddie’s broken body to his chest, kissed him furiously on the head, on his shoulder, on his forehead.

“Please Eddie.”

To think that we could stay the same

We're two slow dancers, last ones out

[trailerparkflower]

Can you write fem!Harringrove where alpha Billie has one-night stand with omega Steph? Maybe they could be at a party or something (they like each other, but Steph has a boyfriend, and Billie's always teasing her, so Steph isn't really sure if Billie even likes her at all), and Steph gets into her first heat and also induces Billie's first rut; Steph ends up pregnant. What happens afterwards is up to you, my sweet princess ! ❤

Hey baby🌺 Your wish is my command, and I really loved writing this promt, fem!Harringrove abo is just gold

______________________________

Billie glances at Steph quickly, noticing her pale face and slowing camaro down even more; driving like a freaking old lady. It feels so out-of-character even for her, what she gets pack of the Marlboros and lighter from the glovebox; there is a certain role what she need to follow, if you wanna know.

“So.” She starts with a careless voice, lighting a cig. Steph sighs, like if this one word was enough to exhaust her, or, maybe, like it was Billie fucking fault for everything what was happening with her. Is it the gratefulness for what she agreed to take her home? Not if Billie had much choice, tho, because Harrington apparently didn’t had anyone else-no mate, no parents, no friends. And maybe Billie is a mean bitch, but even she has a heart. Still, Steph don’t need to know about it, so she says, trying to sound as much uninterested as she can, “What’s up with you, princess? Are you, like, dying, or something? ”

“Don’t tell me what you are worried, Hargrove.” Steph murmurs, pressing her face to the cold window. Her usually perfectly stylised hair was wild and messy now, after Billie had to hold them while she threw up in the school bathroom, and, hugging herself, sitting here in the Billie jacket what is at least on two sizes too big for her, Steph looked like a little girl, vulnerable and small.

And secretly, Billie wants to hug her, because, yeah, okay. She is worried. It’s freaks the shit out of her what Harrington seems to unable hold food in her stomach lately, what she fails all her exams, what after that stupid Wheeler prince prick dumped her for the creepy stalker girl (wich, aside from everything, was a pleasing fact, and actually worked on Billie benefit), Steph seemed to get more and more quiet; more and more absent.

Billie thinks about her mama and about her last months; dark suspicions fills her mind.

She wants to hug Steph, to pet her hair, to tell what everything is going to be okay; but instead, she takes a long, slow drag, sticks out her tongue teasingly, and her red lips curls into a wide smile.

“Nah.” Shugs she. “But just in cause if you are, can you bequeath that cool VHS collection of yours for me?“

“Yeah, sure.” Steph rolls her eyes. “But at first, can you stop smoking? It’s stinks.”

“Hmm. Maybe, if you say what is going on with you.”

“Nothing! Nothing is going on, okay! I’m fine!” Steph exclaims, her knuckles white as she clenched her fists. Billie raises her eyebrow, unamused-Steph is really a shitty liar. How she even managed to be a school queen bee with the mind of the big spoiled baby? Must be a smalltown luck-in Cali, girls would eat her alive.

“Really?” Billie asks, a little bit rhetorically, because they both know the answer, and slowly inhales, just to blow the smoke right into the Steph pale face.   

Steph blinks few times, mouth slightly open. She looks like Billie just slapped her, like she wants to cry, and at the second, Billie actually feels sorry and wants to apologize like a friggin pussy-but then, something changes in Steph eyes, and she explodes.

“God, you are such a bitch, Hargrove! I’m fucking pregnant, that’s what is going on with me! Now. Can you fuck off already?! And stop fucking smoking or I end throwing up in your stupid car, too!”

“You.” Now, it’s Billie blinks few times, absolutely dumbfounded. Cigarette falls out of her hand on the ground, and all her willpower goes to watch on the road and stop car slowly without crushing into some tree. “You WHAT?”

Steph holds her intense glare, lifting chin up, trying to be tough. That’s my girl, Billie thinks somewhere in the back of her mind.

“Jesus Christ…” She runs her hand through the blond curly hair. “Wait. Was it Wheeler? Is it why he broke up with you?” Growls she, baring the alpha fangs, aggressive snarl twists her gorgeous face. “That frigging asshole, I swear-”

“Hey, calm down, big girl.” Steph chuckles, looking bit of haunted. Her thin long fingers fidgets edge of the short skirt nervously. “Its. Uh, w-well, not, not he, it's…well…you remember that party, um, at Tim?…”

She bites her pink pouty lips, and suddenly, Billie understands.

“Are you telling me what…” She murmurs, voice hoarse. “Shit. I am the. I am the…?” Steph  doesn’t answer, doesn’t even nod-she just adverts eye big glassy eyes, and Billie feels like everything is spining.

“Holy fuck. And you…you will, keep it?” Billie asks, carefully. Her hearts beats so fast, what seems to break her ribs.

It was just one of the stupid little cheesy fantasy, nothing serious, a world what Billie made for herself and dreamed about it, laying on the bed, sore and bruised after fightіs with Neil. She, Steph, their own kids and their own house, good ol` shiny American Dream.

Billie never dared to think what this dream could become reality.

Steph clearly understands her reaction wrong, because she finally glares at her, quick and furious, shoulders tensed. “Yes, I will keep the baby, and I don’t care if you if you don’t want it,  Hargrove. You don’t have to worry, because I will take care of everything, and I need no one help, and-and,” her voice cracks, and she takes a shaky breath,  “And you don’t have to…stick up with us, because…I know you don’t really want all this and it was just a one night stand, so-”

“Hey.” Billie whispers, stretching out her arm slowly, to not scare Steph, but she still flinches under her soft touch like a wild scared doe. 

Billie feels scared too.

“Head up, princess, or the crown will fall.“ She says, wiping tear from the rosy cheek, and Steph snorts, but visibly relaxes. Billie takes it as a win.

“C'mon, pretty, come here.” She says, gently, and tugs Steph on her laps-it’s not very comfortable and a little bit awkward in the car, but Steph still leans to her, and hides wet face in the crook of Billie neck, so she don’t really cares about anything else. Her vision goes blurry and only after some time she realizes, what she teared up too.

“We will keep the baby, and we will take care of it, and raise it, together. And then, when Tony, if it will be a boy, or Becca, if it will be a girl goes to school, we will make another little one-”

“Wait, wait,” Steph laughs, sweet and nervous and dorky, and Billie face lights up. “Who even said what I agree for naming my firstborn beloved child by such a stupid name like Tony?”