#he would probably insist that he can do all his tasks despite the cone

[uglly-rodent]

Do you think Rocket ever had to wear one of those cone collar things they make dogs and cats wear after surgery?

honestly, probably not, but ill do it anyway

[a-simple-imagine]

Run Away With Me

Synopsis: Every moment shared with Charlie Weasley is an adventure all it’s own. How you wish to spend every moment together and all it takes is to run away. 

Pairing: Charlie Weasley x fem!reader

Words: 6.3k+

A/N - Every year I post a story on my birthday and today’s the day I turn a year older. Usually these stories are pretty sad but this year I wrote something a little softer so here is my birthday present for you guys, I hope you enjoy it. 

1. A Stolen Kiss

A bright-eyed and clueless young student, excited to be attending a school of magic. Nobody else in your family had magic so it was a big surprise when you received a letter alongside a weird lady who looked like she just stepped out of the early 1920s. Sat between your parents, the older woman explained the entire situation much to your excitement and your parents' confusion.

 Diagon alley had been your first experience of all things magical; it had been like stepping into another world instead of just any old street in London. There were book shops lined with all kinds of books, some were bigger than your head while others were tiny. A shop that sold weird and kinda gross jars full of who knows what. There was a place that only sold brooms but according to the list you had read like a hundred times, first years weren't allowed their own brooms. You spent what felt like a lifetime at Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions getting fitted for robes. Your parents were utterly fascinated by all the different styles and kept asking questions that made the experience so much longer than it really needed to be. You'd never had a pet before, but after a lot of begging they let you pick out a cat; he was a small Persian cat. Not quite a kitten but not quite fully grown. Checking off each item as you went along, you were exhausted by the end of it. There was even enough time for a trip to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour where you had enjoyed a cone of strawberries and cream with sprinkles on top. All that was left on your list was a wand. Peeling gold letters rested over the door of a shop that read: Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. Stepping inside it was a tiny little store with no costumers. Thousands of narrow boxes lined the walls all the way up to the ceiling. It didn't take long for the weird old man to give you a wand that felt warm in your hand. Unlike the other disasters that came at the result of you waving various wands, a stream of red and gold sparks shoot out the end of this one like a mini firework. The wand chooses the wizard whatever the hell that meant. All ready and packed for Hogwarts, you were really giddy to go. Your mother cried as she waved you off to boarding school but you couldn't sit still. The train ride took hours and it was a little lonely considering you didn't know anyone but as soon as you entered the castle you knew it was exactly where you were meant to be. The building was massive and practically oozed magic and mystery through each brick. The pictures, much to your surprise, were moving on their own. Hogwarts had four houses and each student had to sit on a tall stool, put on a funny talking hat which would decide ultimately where they belong.

The very first friend you made was Nymphadora Tonks but only because she was in all of your classes and by some twist of fate you always ended up seated together. She was a sweet girl with pink hair and a talent for mischief. There was never a dull moment with you two. Then there was Charlie Weasley. Ever since that brisk day in October when he had ridden in clumsily on his white horse to save the day, the two of you had been the best of friends. You were still getting used to all your different classes. Potions class, however, was proving the most difficult. Too many ingredients and types to get used to. Not to mention Snape was just... mean. The task had been to prepare a simple Wiggenweld Potion; a powerful healing potion that can be used to heal injuries, or reverse the effects of a Sleeping Draught. The book was open on the desk as you carefully followed the instructions until.... poof. All the confidence you'd gained since arriving disappeared as Snape scolded you in front of everyone for messing up. Charlie had swooped in to take the blame landing himself in late-night detention. On the other hand, you got to leave with your tail between your legs and a few house points shaved off the total. And yet even his small act of kindness wasn't enough to capture your affection at least not at first. For the little version of yourself was infatuated with another Weasley. An older Weasley.

The nerves of a handful of students could be felt by anyone sat in the great hall for breakfast. Tonks is sat beside you running butter over a piece of toast. Stifling a yawn, Charlie takes a seat across from the two of you sporting a jumper of Gryffindor red and gold.

"Good morning," You flash your cheeriest, half-asleep smile bringing your spoon of Cheeri Owls to your lips. "Nervous?"

"A little," He was looking especially pale today suggesting he was more than just a little.

"You should be," Tonks perks up. "It's only the last game of the season and all hope rides on the seeker,"

"No pressure then," Charlie huffs out a dull laugh. The boy excelled in his position as the Gryffindor seeker but there was no way to determine how he'd play today when he was carrying the hopes and dreams of his teammates and entire house.

"You should eat something," You suggest, pushing a bowl of assorted fruit forward. There was little you could to make him feel better except take his spot but that wasn't allowed. You also probably wouldn't be that good. "Might make you feel better?"

"I'm too nervous to eat," He insisted but he still took an apple; rolling the red fruit between his palms.

"Win or lose you're still number one in our heart, right Tonks?" Elbowing her gently, you shovel another spoonful of 'O' shapes into your mouth.

"Sure," she shrugs. "If you want we can jinx the other team's seeker? I've been practising."

"Or... how much time do we have? I can get one of the older students to brew some Felix Felicis." You play along. "Nothing like a little liquid luck to win a game."

"You both know that's not allowed," Charlie took a large bite of his apple.

"When has Tonks ever cared about rules," Sometimes you wish she did care, you probably wouldn't have ended up in detention so many times alongside her.

"Thanks but no," he took another bite. "We have to win fair and square."

The conversation drifted from nerves to lost spells and planned practical jokes. Charlie seemed to relax a little the more he spoke. Maybe all he needed was a distraction to cheer him up.

"We need to take a trip to Hogsmeade" Tonk announces. "I'm out of dungbombs."

"Urgh- you and that silly joke shop." You can't help but roll your eyes but it was all good-natured. Despite hardly ever buying anything yourself, you spent an awful lot of time at Zonko's infamous little joke shop. "I could do with a trip outside the castle though. You should come too Charlie and maybe... you could ask Bill if he wants to come?"

"You're still gushing over Bill," Now it was Tonks turn to elbow you playfully, her lips curling up into a tantalising smirk.

"I do not gush over him," you state firmly, brows knitting together in a frown. You didn't appreciate being made fun. Bill was older, wiser and always made time to show you kindness. He made your little heart flutter whenever you saw him and Tonks took every opportunity to tease you about it. "I just thought It'd be nice is all. Wouldn't you agree, Charlie?"

"If you want him to come, ask him yourself." He responds, taking a large gulp of his juice.

"She won't because she has a crush."

"I don't have a crush Nymphadora- stop it," It was infinitely more embarrassing talking about this with Charlie sat at the table. "Don't ask him then, I don't care."

"Yes you do," Placing her arm around your shoulder, she pulls you into her side. "Because you're in love-"

"I am not!" You snap, pushing out of her grip.

"I'll see you guys later." The two of you share a look as Charlie disappears without another word. It was probably just pregame nerves.

"You know what? I think I'll get some frogspawn soap too and put it in the prefects' bathroom." Typical Tonks.

You'd come to learn through your time at Hogwarts that Quidditch was the most popular sport among wizards. And each house had their own team who compete for a trophy and bragging rights. Today was the final game thankfully. Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. Apparently, it came down to these two a lot. As the Gryffindor team filter out of the changing rooms, you slip inside to find Charlie sitting on a little bench.

"Guess who?" You sing-song, slapping your hands over his eyes but only briefly. He turns to look at you with an almost sour expression.

"What are you doing here?"

"I came to support you," you reply soft, offering a smile he couldn't even see as he turned away.

"You're not supposed to be in here," Had you done something to upset him? Surely not. This was the first time you were seeing him since breakfast so there hadn't been a moment for you to mess things up and yet, his voice held an icy chill.

"Guess Tonks is rubbing off on me?" You jest, looking around the room. It was empty apart from you two. Bags and clothes scattered across benches or half shoved into lockers. A chalkboard stood in the corner with drawings you couldn't understand. "I just wanted to see how you were doing before the big game, is all. We were worried about you."

"You were worried about me," He repeats slowly, looking up at you. "I thought you hated quidditch."

"I still do," Your shoulders rise in a little shrug. "It's silly. Doesn't matter how hard the team works or how many goals it's pretty much all decided by how good the seeker is so why even have goals?"

"Score enough goals before the snitch is caught and anyone could win," He perks up. "You just don't understand how good and exciting it is."

Your lips curl up in appreciation for Charlie Weasley and his love for quidditch. It didn't possess the sparkle that came along when he talks about dragons but it was still nice to see him liven up. "Then go out there and show me how exciting it is,"

You stand under the spotlight of his gaze as he seemingly takes in your choice of attire; wearing the Gryffindor colours with pride to show your support. You even let Tonks paint your face after she promised not to draw genitalia. "Do you really think we're gonna win? What if I mess up and everyone hates me?"

"Then you mess up and everyone hates you," You shrug a little. "But that's not gonna happen and you know why?" His head shakes slowly. "It's because you're the best seeker at this school Charles Weasley." You place your hands on either side of his shoulders. "And I believe in you."

"How does that help me?" With your index finger under his chin, you force him to meet your eyes.

"Because I'm never wrong."

"That doesn't sound right." He tries to look away but you stop him.

"But it is," You offer a reassuring smile; one full of determination. "You've got this Charlie. So come on before you miss the game entirely."

The cheers outside were seemingly growing louder by the second. With a deep breath, Charlie stands up, grabbing his broom. "You're staying to watch, right?"

"Of course. Tonks is up in the stands too." Taking his hand, you lead the way out of the tent. "Consider us your good luck charms." Charlie brings the both of you to an abrupt stop before you even reach the opening of the tent, pulling you back to him. "What's up?"

The peppering of freckles that covered Charlie's face was even more vibrant against the rose pink blush. You squeeze his hand a little hoping it makes him feel better. And then it happens. The crowd grows silent in your ear but only for a moment as Charlie's surprisingly soft lips crash clumsily against yours. "For good luck," his whispers; his hand slipping from yours as he leaves you dumbfounded.

"He okay?" Tonks asks as you return from your trip.

"Yeah... still nervous," You reply, sitting down beside her. "It's his first big game after all."

"Are you okay?" The crowd erupts into cheers as the Gryffindor team flys in first. You're almost too embarrassed to look for Charlie; worried about what you might find so you keep your head down. "You look like you've just seen a troll or something?"

"Mhmm," you hum, forcing yourself to watch the Slytherin team as they enter. Why had Charlie kissed you? Did it mean he liked you or was he just messing around? Your head swirled with possibilities.

"You want a sweet?" Your friend offers as the game finally starts. It takes you a second to register but you smile, reaching into the little bag she was holding only to come to a stop.

"They're not gonna burn my tongue off or something are they?"

"No," Her chuckle sounded a little too innocent but you trust her for some reason. Taking a piece of confectionery out of the paper bag.

"Charlie... kissed me." You announce, throwing the sweet into you mouth; face scrunching up when they turn out to be sour. Ten points to Slytherin as they take the lead.

"He what?"

"He... kissed me."

2. Together

Who was Bill Weasley but a distant playground crush after that day. And your time of classrooms and magic lessons came swiftly to an end; how bittersweet it felt to leave a place you loved dearly. A once naive little girl stepping into the unknown now called the Wizarding World Home. Now you would go on to be a healer which was simply a magical doctor although your parents strongly disagreed with the comparison. However proud they were of you there would always be some part of them that wished you had chosen to become a lawyer or 'real' doctor.

Bathed in the warm embrace of the setting sun, you ponder the tranquility in a bed of green grass. The youngest Weasley lay beside you, struggling to keep still as often children do. She was similar to her brother in that way who now paced back and forth a mere few steps away. The invitation had been for dinner but you arrived a little early. The burrow was always such a welcoming place like stepping into a home you used to live in many moons ago; it was cosy and warm and there was no doubt that many lived there. You found your house to be almost the opposite, it always looked like nobody lived there. Immaculate. Polished. Cold.

"Will you stop pacing, you're making me nervous." You call out to your boyfriend, opening your eyes only to squint at the bright light. "What's wrong with you?"

Charlie comes to a stop as you sit up; Ginny mimics you in sitting up but the boy's eyes stay on you. The longer he stared, the more the pit in your stomach grew; what exactly hid behind his blank expression. He normally possessed such a playful warmth but it seemed to have vanished as of late. Plucking a stray purple flower, you enclose it in the palm of your hands. "You know I love dragons right?"

"Of course," Since meeting him, he had probably managed to slip dragons into every conversation you had ever had. It was at a point where you knew far more about dragons than you ever really cared to know. Many found his obsession annoying because that's what he so obviously was, obsessed but you found it enticing. Charming, even. Opening up your hand, a small butterfly with deep plum-purple wings flutters into the air and onto a giggly Ginny's nose. The innocent glee of a child; how those days were gone for you. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Promise you won't be mad?" It would be foolish to make such a promise when there was no way to guarantee your reaction. Whatever it was must be bad, if he was this worried. Your shoulders rise a little then fall.

"I make no such promises- just tell me."

Charlie took a breath that travelled on the wind to your ears before he blurted out.  "I'm moving to Romania."

"Okay," Is your first reaction while your brain tries to make sense of something it didn't want to hear. "Wait- what?"

"Charlie is moving away to work with big scary dragons," Ginny announces playfully, baring her little hands like claws.

The once small pit grew into a mighty black hole of uncertainty and sadness that threatened to swallow you whole. There had been conversations shared between friends of Charlie wanting to move away to a foreign land, just to finally see a dragon but you had never taken it at face value. Always so convinced it was but a dream rather like those of when you were little and you wished to be a vampire. Technically back then you didn't know they actually existed but still, even now it was never going to come true. Eyes cast upon the second eldest Weasley, he kicks up the grass with his hands buried in the pockets of his pants. "It's the nearest Dragon reserve."

That was something you already knew but it didn't make the decision, at least in your eyes, any less confusing. Instead, it prompted water to well up in your eyes for this was something that affected not only him and his family but your life too. "I... I don't know what to say,"

"Hey Ginny, can you go check if dinner's ready yet?"

"No- why can't you do it?" The bark behind her words was very in character for the fiesty young Weasley. Blinking away the tears, you plaster on the best smile you can muster.

"If you go check on dinner I promise we can play a game later, okay? Exploding snap maybe?"

"Really?" She eyes you suspicious probably because it was a promise you had broken before. Not always for the right reasons but this time it was genuine. Charlie clearly wanted this to be a private conversation or perhaps he was just saving you for the inevitable moment where she asks why you're crying. Ginny scrambles to feet when you nod and skips off towards the gravity-defying house. It still amazed you that the building hadn't fallen yet. Rising to your feet you brush yourself off.

"You know I want nothing more than to work with Dragons and this is the only way I can do that," There was no mistaking the serious tone that came along with his words. It didn't matter what you said there was no changing his mind but you wouldn't do that anyway. It seemed cruel to even try to get him to give up on something so precious and you would never want to do that to him. "I have an opportunity to do something I love and I won't waste it to get some boring job at the ministry."

"I don't expect you too..." You wanted nothing more than to tell him to stay; beg him even. You were fighting against the selfish little devil that was stabbing you in the heart. It was a dull, deep pain in your chest. You wanted Charlie to follow his dreams, you just never expected them to not include you. "It's just a lot to take in."

"I know," The red-headed boy walks ever so slowly over to you, taking both hands in his. His hands had always felt a little rough ever since Hogwarts. You used to complain back then and insist he needed to moisturise but over time you had grown fond of the familiarity. How you wished this tender moment could last forever because it very well might be your last. You're caught off guard when he yanks you forward. You stumble into his chest where he wraps his arms around you like the big teddy bear he was. You breathe in every inch of him like it was the last time. The intoxicating aroma of an early walk in the woods; that fresh earthy smell that really makes you appreciate where you are. You could almost picture the pine trees.

"I feel like I'm losing you," Your words but a whisper, lost on the breeze.

"You're not," His grip around you tightens and suddenly your in the air, spinning around. "You could never get rid of me that easily.

"Charlie," You fight back a smile as you return to the ground; burying your face in the nook of his neck. "What's gonna happen to us?"

"About that-"

"Because I don't know if I can do the whole long-distance thing? So do we break up?" The tears threaten to fall once again as you pull back to get a good look at him. You never wanted to forget the emerald of his eyes or each and every freckle that called his body home. The unusual scare that adorned his eyebrow that was always amusing to look at. If that was his true purpose to break up with you then there would be no stopping the tears when they finally burst through the damn.

"No, I-"

"Because that's a little mean Charlie, you could have at least waited until after dinner. Should have done it first actua-"

You words become mumbled by the palm of his hand which he's placed over your mouth like a seal of protection. "Shush for a minute."

It's hard to resist so you simply don't; sticking your tongue you deliberately lick the palm of his hand but it seems to not phase him whatsoever.

"I'm not breaking up with you, silly," You meet his gaze. "I was kind of thinking you could come with me?"

Reaching up, you yank his hand away. "To Romania?  You've got to be joking."

"Why not?"

Did you even know how to answer that? There were so many reasons why one should not just up and leave to go live in a completely different country with the boy they dated through high school. "I can't just up and leave my family- my mum will be devastated."

"I'll talk to her about it," Charlie hums softly, placing a delicate kiss upon your forehead. "Your mum loves me and she wants you to be happy."

"Dinner's Ready," For such a small girl, Ginny had one big mouth. There was no mistaking her call. However, this whole situation now felt a little... off. Could you even sit through dinner without it all becoming weird?

"We're coming," Charlie yells back; offering up his hand which you reluctantly take and he leads the way back to the house. "You want to be a healer right? You could do that in Romania."

"I guess," You weren't exactly worried about not finding a job.

"You don't have to decide right now," He tells you before you have a chance to speak up again. "Just think about it. I mean the invitation is there and for what it's worth, I'd really like you to come."  

3. Creeping doubts

It took a lot of convincing but despite everything you decided to follow Charlie into the Unknown. Your parents weren't thrilled with the decision but they respected it; they were just worried about what would happen if something went wrong. And as their only child, they would obviously miss you. A lot of time was spent at the burrow that summer before moving to Romania; you were beginning to feel like an honorary Weasley only with the experience of having been a muggle for the first eleven years of your life. It was but a three-hour flight to Romania and your mother had sobbed at the airport. It made you think back to your first time stepping onto the Hogwarts express, leaving your parents behind to go to a magical boarding school in Scotland. It was a peculiar thought but a nice one. One you wished to cherish. Now in a foreign land with no support system behind you other than a boy you had been dating for years, you were ready for a new adventure. And there was officially no doubt in your mind that you would do just about anything for Charlie Weasley.

"It's not much," Charlie sets his suitcase down on the table. "Best I could do, for now, I'm afraid."

"It's fine," It was an old apartment in a building full of what you assumed were muggles. There was a small living room area with an ugly pea-coloured couch nestled against one wall. Beside it was a small coffee table and on the other side of the room was a TV, you weren't convinced actually worked. Then there was the kitchen which was attached to the living room. It had a fridge, a cooker and some cupboards. The only other room was a bedroom that literally only housed a bed in at the moment, then there was a door that leads on to the bathroom. It definitely wasn't much but a crappy apartment was just part of the experience, right? At least that's what you were telling yourself. "it'll feel like home soon enough," You had everything you needed to make this place feel like home right in your suitcase; oh the joys of magic. Patting yourself down, you search for the key to easy unpacking. "Uh... have you seen my wand?"

His head shakes and wears an amused grin. "You remembered to bring it right?"

"Yes," you huff. "I was gonna unpack," Falling back against the wall, you slide down onto the floor which you imagine hasn't been cleaned in a while considering the dust. "It's gonna take so long without my wand- which may actually be in the suitcase now that I think about it."

"Did you forget I'm a wizard too?"

"You do it then," You drop your head back against the wall. "I'm starving."

"actually have you seen my wand?"

You giggle to yourself "You're an idiot,"

"Hey- you lost your wand too." His shadow lingers over you as he comes to join you against the wall. Taking up a seat beside you, your head falls to rest against his shoulder.  

"Can we get pizza? I saw some of those leaflets when we came in so we could order some?"

"Whatever you want, my love."

As time ticks on the pizza box is left discarded in the kitchen as the two of you retire for the night. Who knew not actually unpacking but simply thinking about it while eating pizza on the dirty ground could be so much work. You struggle to hold back a yawn as you snuggle up to him trying to absorb as much of his body heat as you can. All that lay across the two of you were a blanket and this building was next exactly the warmest. "Do you think we'll be okay? "You ponder aloud; it was a question that had been on your mind since agreeing to follow him to Romania. For not many people stay together with their high school loves. What if things fall apart now that you're in the 'real' world? What if this was all just a huge mistake?

"What do you mean?" Always such a simple boy; you wonder how he deals with his anxieties. Did he actually not know what you meant or was he merely putting on a brave face? A once proud Gryffindor suggested that he always looked to be brave above anything else.

"Do you think we'll be okay?" You repeat as if that somehow answers his question but it must have done something because even in the darkness you can just tell he's smiling.

"You worry way too much." Charlie laughs.

"You don't worry enough,"

He lays a kiss upon the top of your head, his hand moving up and down your arm. "It used to be the other way around."

"I was young and reckless back then. "How you missed the days where you ran around the halls of Hogwarts with reckless abandon. Well, not entirely reckless that was more Tonks but things had definitely felt simpler back then.

"You're still young and reckless now, I just have to hear you stress about it afterwards." Charlie taunts, pinching your arm. You recoil at the sharp pain.

"Shush."

"Being in Romania doesn't change anything," He expresses; his voice sounding louder in the quiet darkness. "I loved you back home and I still love you now. I'm really glad you decided to come with me."

Hoping to distract yourself from every worrying thought that clouded your brain you decide it's time to change the subject. "Are you nervous about tomorrow?"

"Getting to work with Dragons all day every day? that's like dream come true."

"A dangerous one," Dragons were perhaps the most vicious creatures around other than humans. As captivating as they were and as much as charlie adored them, you couldn't help but worry about his safety. It seemed no matter the topic this evening you'd find a way to stress yourself out.

"I'll be fine, I'll have you there to patch me up," That he will for you had taken on the role as a healer willing to help out with all the injuries that inevitably come from dealing with dragons. You wouldn't admit it but you weren't quite convinced you were up to the task; you had never actually dealt with dragon-related injuries so this was like diving headfirst into the ocean when you only just learned how to swim in a training pool. "and if not- well, we had a good run."

"Don't joke about that," Nuzzling against his chest, you finally let your eyes close. Today was the start of forever with the one and only Charles Weasley and here he was joking about his ultimate demise.

4. The perfect day

It's peculiar how life can just fall into place. Your odd little world of dragons and leaky apartment buildings just became the norm. You had come to love your work at the reserve, Dragons were actually incredibly cool up close. Not to mention getting to see Charlie work with them after years of never shutting up about them was truly a sight to behold. Every day, it was like taking an excited little boy to his first day of school. His eyes simply lit up whenever he was at work although it was hard explaining his injuries to the neighbours when they were being nosey. You also had to be careful when using magic since you were basically living with muggles and it would be a headache if they ever found out.

With your site blocked by a thin piece of fabric, Charlie guides you carefully forward with his hands skillfully placed upon your arms to steer. This was the first day off the two of you have shared in a long time. Little information was given about your destination other than it being a surprise. With Charlie that could mean just about anything which wasn't always a good thing but you trusted him enough to believe he wasn't leading you into a dragon's den or something. A gentle breeze nipped at the skin of your neck and the ground felt soft under your feet. The gentle singing of a symphony of birds filled the air and the sun beamed down with remarkable easy. All this suggested you were somewhere withdrawn in nature. Charlie had always been one for the great outdoors. There were countless times you had found him sneaking in or out of the forbidden forest back at school.

"Am I going to like this surprise?" You inquire; your anxiety building with each step. You would much prefer to simply know what was going on rather than experience some dramatic reveal especially today of all days. Every year the boy seems to forget that he agreed not to make a big deal.

"I sure hope so," You practically slam into him as she comes to an unexpected standstill. "Because I don't think I can return it."

"Return what? Oh god- can I take my blindfold off?"

As the flimsy fabric skims the length of your face to settle loosely around your neck, your eyes take a minute to adapt. You don't know quite what you were expecting but this was not it. Before you stands a small cottage surrounded by nothing but a wide-open field full of a rainbow of wildflowers. It was a beautiful little house with as much charm and beauty you'd expect from a place out in what seems like the middle of nowhere. It could be described as the perfect place to settle down.

"Surprise!" He was redder than a cherry tomato when he stepped into view. Both arms in the air as a sign of celebration but you were just rather... confused? Whose house was this and why had he brought you all the way out here?

"I don't get it?"

"We've been here for a while now so I thought we should get our own place or like, a better place. One where we don't have to worry about anyone else." His confidence appeared to develop with each word but his face was still powdered in a deep shade of pink. S this was your house? He'd decided to up and move without even consulting you? "So I got us a little cottage in the middle of nowhere. It kinda reminds me of the burrow only, y'know, smaller."

"It's ours?" His excitement is clear on his face and he quickly takes your hand. Pulling you along with him. "And that's not all."

"There's more?" Surely a whole house was enough. You were quite proud of Charlie for picking such a beautiful little place. Come summertime, you could already see yourself sitting among the flowers painting little pictures. You also wouldn't have to worry about muggles. Coming up on the front door, your boyfriend delivers you a little golden key. And with just a tiny degree of fear about what could be on the other side you unlock it. Much to your astonishment and disappointment, nothing is behind the door except the hallway leading inside. Charlie enters first and even as you follow, you half expect someone to jump out.

"I know I agreed not to make a big deal but how could I not?" He opens a door at the end of the hallway that leads to the kitchen. It's not a massive space but it's assuredly not small either, the whole place was already furnished but you recognise the surprise was truly what sat on the table. It was a two-tier cake covered in blue frosting including the words Happy Birthday scrawled across the top followed by your name.

"You... baked?"

"Mum sent it actually," Charlie chortled lightly as he wanders up behind you. Tossing a package of red with multicoloured polka-dots onto the table. "Sent this along too. Reckon it's a jumper or something."

"That was nice of her," You weren't sure of how to react to it all. Birthdays had never really been your thing but you appreciated that Mrs. Weasley had gone out of her way to make you something special.

"And from me..." He trails off and the sound of tiny tracks echo off the walls attended by an adorable yelp. Up to your feet slides an ash grey puppy who was more legs than anything else. It had bright blue eyes and floppy ears.

"You got me a dog?"

"I got us a dog- thought we needed a pet around here. I debated getting a crup but that'd be a disaster if your parents ever decide to visit." Crups were notorious for their dislike of muggles. You never understood why but he was right in his decision. The gesture was sweet but rather odd all things considered but still you smile. It was hard to be mad at something so cute and you weren't just talking about the dog. The puppy sits at your feet, wagging its little tail a mile a minute. There was no denying how adorable it was and at least it wasn't a dragon. Or a murtlap for that matter, those things were ugly. "You don't seem happy... do you not like him? I can take him back?" Kneeling, your hand drifts over the soft fur of the puppy's head. In response, the dog jumps up in an attempt to lick at your face. Your smile grows as you try to get away. "I think he likes you."

"What's his name?"

"Whatever you want? He's a Great Dane by the way." The puppy had calmed down a little and you stare as you ponder the perfect name for an ash grey Great Dane. "How about... Arlo?"

"Arlo?"

"Mhmm," You hum standing up straight. "And I'm plenty happy if not a little overwhelmed. You know how I feel when it comes to my birthday."

"I do," He nods casually. His palms snake around your waist drawing you flush against him "But I never want you to forget that someone cares about you- that I care about you so bloody much."

"I know you do," You give him a quick peck on the lips. "And I'm thankful for that and for all of this."

"Arlo is the perfect name, Happy Birthday" Your lips connect in a beautifully slow embrace that fills your body with warmth and as he pulls away, his forehead comes to rest against yours.  The dog barking as it explores the kitchen. "I'm just so grateful that you decided to run away with me."

[captainkippen]

I don't know where I'm going with this, it's just a piece of free writing because I felt inspired. Might keep going and turn it into a short story or something.

TW: Implied abuse.

1994.

The door clatters open like a twister is blowing through and I jerk up with such violence I almost slide right off my seat. There are a few bleary-eyed moments of confusion as my heart calms down before a takeaway cup of coffee is thrust under my nose and I'm forced to take it before it ends up decorating my shirt.

"Rise and shine, loser. You fall asleep at your desk again? You know you're gonna have permanent keyboard marks on your face if you keep doing that."

I bat Jay's hands away from my neck, saving myself from one of his terrible massages. He keeps telling me he has magic hands, but I'm pretty sure the crick in my neck only sticks more stubbornly when he tries to get rid of it. I give my shoulders a roll, sighing into the satisfaction of feeling my joints click, and swivel around to face him.

He's dressed in the same clothes he wore to mall yesterday and the heavy stench of too many cigarettes clings to him which means he probably spent the night at Ricky's - our local 24 hour diner - periodically ducking into the alley to burn through a new pack of Marlboroughs. A fresh smudge of dark purples and blues stains the skin around his eye. I hope he at least gave his brother a bruise back to match.

"What time is it?" I punctuate my question with a yawn just to make a point, but he just grins and holds up his watch.

7:15AM. Wonderful. At least he waited until he used the front door for once. My parents fret about him breaking his neck every time he leaves scuff marks on the window ledge to avoid waking them up.

"Did you actually get any sleep last night?"

"Did you?" He fires back with a raised eyebrow, shrugging off his jacket and flopping onto my bed to grab the latest issue of Rolling Stone from where he left it strewn across one of the pillows last time he crashed here. Comfortable silence falls as I admire the way his fingers bend the magazine back. There's this little crease that forms between his brows whenever he's concentrating, physical evidence of him trying to force his brain to focus on one thing at a time and not the myriad of random thoughts bouncing in there at any given time. I hide my smile in my coffee - he knows I'm not really annoyed, but I refuse to give up the illusion. It's a ageing routine, but one I never get bored of.

I count the minutes until the silence breaks. One. Two. Thr-

"So I was thinking," he says, the sighs like he's exasperated at his own inability to keep words in. It's one of the many things I like about Jay - he always speaks his mind. It makes it easier to understand him.

"Dangerous task for you."

An unimpressed middle finger greets my words before they're completely out. I hold back a snort.

"Sorry. Go on?"

We've known each other since we were seven. Across the street neighbours. He was the first person I met when I moved in with my foster parents. In a street full of unfamiliar tree and looming white houses he sat there on the curb pretending to fish with a stick and a piece of string. He'd called over as I got out of the car, asked if I liked trout. I didn't even know what trout was. That was okay. It was gross anyway, apparently.

I don't remember ever making friends so easily, like we just fell together and that was it. No fuss. Ten years on and the surprise hasn't waned.

"You guys want breakfast?" My mom pokes her head around the door with a tired smile, interrupting whatever train of thought Jay was hopping on.

I shake my head and lift my coffee, ignoring the disapproving look she gives me. Coffee is not food nor is it particularly good for you, but it's also not worth a battle over nutrition before eight o'clock.

"All good here, Mrs H." Jay smiles, all teeth and charm and twinkling eyes, then pats his stomach as if to confirm it. It's a smile that's impossible to disagree with when it's directed right at you.

"You sure? Alrighty then," Mom says, doubt creeping into her tone despite her fond look. She was forever trying to feed Jay, convinced he was too skinny. Worried he wasn't getting enough to eat. I can't say I blame her - some days Jay looks like he's auditioning to play Mike Teevee right after he got put through Willy Wonka's stretching machine, but it's all an illusion. I've watched him consume an entire box of donuts in one sitting more than once. His stomach might as well be a trash compactor for all the junk he eats. Plus he always has snacks tucked into the glove compartment of his car in case of emergencies, right alongside a sock full of laundromat destined quarters, a spare toothbrush and his shaving kit.

"Sawyer, honey, can you please clean up a bit in here? It looks like a bomb hit it. Guests don't want to sit in this."

"Half of this is his mess!" I splutter as my mom smiles and disappears back down the hall. "He's not even a real guest!"

Jay only laughs and ducks out of the way when I throw a balled up sock at his head. Asshole.

"So as I was saying..."

"As you were saying," I roll my eyes, gesturing for him to continue.

"I think we should do something."

"What, like go to the movies?" There's nothing good out at the moment, I'm pretty sure. We spent all last weekend debating whether or not to go see the latest Keanu Reeves movie only to spend all our cash on popcorn and get kicked out halfway through because Jay's running commentary made me laugh so hard I choked.

"No man, like... something interesting."

"...bowling?"

He shoots me an unimpressed look and I raise my hands in surrender. What else could he possibly have in mind? Our town only has three things to do; movies, bowling or the mall. We've been cycling through each option all summer. It's the same thing every year and it does get old after a while, but it beats sweating to death outside and spending all day playing video games sets my dad off on the perils of computer addiction. If I ever have to hear another lecture about technology rotting my brain it'll be too soon.

"For a writer you sure are lacking imagination."

"Well what do you suggest, then?" I huff.

There's a gleam in his eye and the warning lights start flashing in my brain just a beat too late. I know that look, it's the kind that got me put in detention three weeks in a row last semester for filling Roy Jackson's football helmet with food dye after he called spread a false rumour that Mary Harring blew him in his backseat. In my defence, it was all Jay. In his defence, I didn't stop him. Principle Ikener's never looked so disappointed. Roy Jackson's face was pink for a week. Scraping gum off the bleachers has never been so satisfying.

"Okay, hear me out first, alright," he says as I groan. We both know I'm already doomed to agree, but we play the part like he has to convince me anyway. Like I said, an ageing routine.

There's a pause in which I repress a sigh and let him dramatically drum roll his fists through the air and then he says, "Europe."

The word is emphasised with jazz hands and I can only stare at him for a moment, my brain trying to compute it. Did I mishear? Did he get part way through a sentence then forget the rest? He stares at me expectantly and it's all I can do to repeat the word slowly after him. His resulting nod is reminiscent of my aunt's excitable golden retriever.

"What about Europe...?"

"We should go."

"What?"

"To Europe," he insists. "We should go."

"You want us to go to Europe."

He looks at me like I'm being deliberately stupid. "That's what I said."

"But... why?"

Summers at home are dull. Three long months of sweltering heat and so many snow cones we make ourselves sick, and weeks on end of trying to think of new things to do, but it has never been so bad that we've resorted to leaving the country before. I'm confused.

"You're always talking about how much you want to travel! And we've got time. two and a half months before school. Think about it, we could be spending that time on the beaches in Spain, or looking at fancy architecture in Italy! I can drag you 'round some museums, you can force me on a tour of places famous English writers lived and we can get sick of each other in style."

Morning light spills through the window and highlights the dustmotes in the air. The bruises on his face seem darker with his face haloed in gold. I get another whiff of cigarettes and realise the smell is staler than usual.

"I don't know," I say. "My parents-"

I get a set of pursed lips in response. His expression is strained.

"Your dad is always saying we should broaden our horizons. He'll be thrilled. Besides, think of all the cute European girls we'll meet."

"How would we even afford it?"

It's a deflection. For a pair of teenage boys, we're both pretty good with money. Weekend jobs at Blockbuster and Baskin Robbins. I still have money saved from my Bar Mitvah, mostly because I've never really wanted anything enough to really splash out. My clunky computer works just fine and I'm content with books and notepads. Jay saves like his life depends on it, and maybe it does. Money for gas and food for the infinite hours spent avoiding his own home. Money for college. Money for escaping.

He stares me down.

One, two, three days since he left the Rolling Stone on my pillow only to pick it back up this morning. I'd noted his lengthy absence yesterday, but I'd just assumed he'd gone fishing. I should have known something was off.

"Please?" There's a desperate edge to his tone that rugs at my heartstrings and it's all I can do not to demand he tell me why he's suddenly so keen on visiting Europe when he's never expressed any such desire before. Instead I just sigh.

"Okay, but you get to convince my mom."

[lil-meow-meow-goes-rawr]

No Matter What, I Choose You

My first Jungkook fic!

Soulmate AU

Boyfriend!Jungkook

1k

Fluffy with a little angst thrown in to keep it interesting

Masterlist

Soulmates.

A strange concept. 

When born, most people are given one person that is meant to be their forever. Their best friend. The one they can always count on to love them no matter what. Someone chosen by destiny.

Some people search for years to find their soulmates. Some don’t even try, relying on their own judgment to choose a partner. Some never find their soulmate at all, whether they’re actively looking or not. With over seven billion people in the world, the task of finding one’s soulmate is a daunting one.

If lucky enough to find their soulmate, the two people are bound together. Wherever they go in life, the other will always be able to find them. Some found the idea to be a blessing, knowing that no matter what, they would never be alone. Others thought of it more as a burden. A shackle holding them back from living their own lives.

Regardless of opinions on the subject, a mark appears on the person’s left arm once they reach the age of fifteen. Only two people in the world bear the same mark. Those two are considered soulmates.

~~

“What are you doing up there?” You laughed, watching the boy as he swung himself up on the monkey bars, hanging from his knees.

You’d had a rough day and after listening to you vent about it over the phone for two hours, Jungkook had insisted on getting you out of the house. The two of you had been walking for nearly forty-five minutes now. The ice cream he’d gotten you earlier was melting under the heat of the summer sun. Jungkook, of course had finished his long ago and when he spotted the small playground a few feet away, there’d been no stopping him as he rushed towards it.

The boy was nearly six feet tall, but that didn’t keep him from enjoying the children’s playground. That adorable bunny smile was something you wouldn’t trade for the world. The way he giggled as he jumped onto the swing melted your heart. You’d forgotten how to have fun a long time ago, until you’d met Jungkook. He helped you see that there was an inner child inside everyone. Some people just needed a little help setting them free.

You rolled your eyes and threw the remainder of your ice cream cone in the trash as Jungkook abandoned the swing and bolted for the monkey bars. He easily swung himself to hang by his knees and was now watching you with an amused expression.

Jungkook beckoned you over and you happily obliged. The equipment was clearly made for small children and you had to get on your knees so you were eye level with him.

“What are you doing?” You repeated, a smile permanently painted on your lips.

His grin widened. “Trying to kiss you.”

Your smile dropped for a second as you stared at him, shocked. Jungkook had always had a unique way of showing his feelings. He always had to do it in a dramatic way. He surprised you in new ways every day. It was something you hoped you would never get used to.

“You’re going to fall.” Was all you could manage to breathe out in response.

Jungkook reached out and gently stroked your cheek, his goofy grin had turned to something a little softer. He was always so gentle. Always so considerate and sweet. You didn’t know how he did it or why he’d chosen to be with someone like you.

Your eyes wandered down to his bare arm and like it did every time, your heart sank. Jungkook was one of the rare few who never received a mark. Meaning either his soulmate had died before they’d reached the age of fifteen or he simply didn’t have one. The mark on your own skin burned every time you thought about it. An ugly reminder of the bitter reality.

His voice was soft when he said, “Just shut up and kiss me already. I’m getting lightheaded.”

You shook your head to clear your mind of the negative thoughts. Who cared about a stupid mark? No one could tell you who you could love and who you couldn’t.

You quickly closed the gap between the two of you.

A few hours later, after the sun had finally set, Jungkook dropped you back off at your house. You said a quick good night and he pecked your lips once more before jumping back in his car and driving off. You sighed as you silently opened the front door. The smell of cigarette smoke greeted you as you dropped your bag on the floor. You’d forgotten to lock the door again. He was here.

You let your head fall back with a sigh. After having one of the best nights of your life, he had to show up and ruin it. You walked into the living room to find the man sprawled out across your couch, passed out and snoring loudly. An empty beer bottle lay on the floor and the cigarette in the ash tray was still burning. At least he was asleep. You wouldn’t have to deal with his incessant complaints tonight.

The man had once again drank himself into an alcohol induced stupor. He probably wouldn’t wake up until midday tomorrow and you planned to be far away from the apartment when that happened. You’d lost count of the number of times you’d asked the man to leave you alone but he’d refused. He always seemed to find you whenever you tried to escape him. You’d even gone to the police a few times but the result was always the same. They wouldn’t do anything about it. In their eyes, he wasn’t doing anything wrong. In the world’s eyes, you belonged to this man.

You shuddered when you caught a glimpse of the mark on his arm. The mark that perfectly mirrored your own.

~~

Did you believe in soulmates? Yes.

What you didn’t believe, was that everyone’s soulmate was exactly who they were meant to be with. That fate was simply too cruel. You believed that no matter what, people should be allowed to choose who they love, despite a stupid mark on their skin. 

You’d chosen who you wanted to love. The ink on your wrist, just above the mark of your soulmate, was your own way of telling the world that you weren’t going to allow anything to decide that for you.

No matter what, I choose you

[prettywordsyouleft]

Different Kisses with Kim Jaehwan

Thank you for requesting Jaehwan for kisses. I posted his Boyfriend scenario on Friday which directly links into this. Because I wrote these at the same time together, I highly recommend you read both to get the full picture. Normally I write a lot for Different Kisses scenarios as they’ve become a bit of a hybrid between Boyfriend and Kisses so this scenario will be less detailed than some of my others because of this. Funnily enough, it’s just as long as my usual ones, so I guess I still had a lot to say!

Kissing Jaehwan is full of playful laughter because every kiss with you brings him so much joy.

First kiss:

Your first kiss was at the end of your first date. After finally winning you over to go out with him with his love confession on campus, Jaehwan wasted no time in taking you out for your first date on the weekend. You didn’t do anything out of the ordinary, you had dinner together and went and saw a movie. To end it on a sweet note, you both got ice-cream on the way back to your dorms, smiling up at each other as you walked hand in hand. And much like how smooth he had been with you on the entire date, when you asked if he wanted to try your ice-cream since you had different flavours he happily agreed, missing the cone you held out towards him and went straight for your lips instead. He kissed you briefly before pulling back, pouting to himself as you tried to recover from his action. “Hm, I didn’t really get a proper taste,” he mentioned, his eyes locking on yours to see what you would suggest. You couldn’t help but smile at how well-played this first kiss was and purposely ate more of your ice-cream before looking over at him again. You didn’t have to say anything and his lips found yourself again, this time heating you up despite the frozen dessert you were enjoying. His lips were full and hungry, tasting you and even licking over your bottom lip before he shifted back, grinning lazily down at you. “I think this is my new favourite flavour.”

You had to admit; he was definitely yours now too.

Public kisses:

Jaehwan is needy for your attention so being out and about isn’t going to stop him from finding your lips if he wants to kiss you. He’s the type to hug you from behind a lot, even insists on making you walk whilst he’s attached to you and laughing away. You weren’t so open to PDA in the beginning of your relationship but Jaehwan has a way of making you feel like it’s just you and him wherever you are, that you stopped caring so much about what others might think and more about enjoying your time together.

If you don’t shower him in attention, he’ll turn rather petulant, demanding you kiss him and hug him whilst he’s being overbearing about it all. You don’t exactly like when he gets like this so it’s a good thing you’ve gotten into the routine of checking in often with his lips wherever you are.

You go out on a lot of varied dates, both indoors and out, and kissing often accompanies you on all of these. At concerts when the music is right and the hype around you is electrifying, Jaehwan will kiss you passionately, still moving his body in beat with the rhythm of the music. On most dates though it’s a lot of quick kisses to your cheek, forehead or lips which you have grown used to anticipating every time.

And just like Daniel, Jaehwan would find a thrill in taking things a little too far in public. You however, might be used to most of his ways, but you definitely like to keep that behind closed doors and know you either have to diffuse the mood or get him someplace private fast.

Private kisses:

Life with Jaehwan is very playful, so a lot of the time his kisses are dictated by a light and cheerful mood. He’ll often pepper you in kisses all over your face to hear you giggle, hugging you happily because he loves nothing more than making you smile each and every day. Jaehwan’s goal is important to him, because if you’re happy then you won’t be so frustrated by his lack of domestic skill. He’s lazy by nature and prioritises his work and goals in life much higher than washing up the dishes. It’s a good thing he’s so good at showering you in kisses because he’s definitely useless with helping you around the house without some major nagging on your behalf. He’s clingy and will enjoy following you around as you clean, hugging you or kissing you in distraction and it can sometimes make it a lot harder to get through anything when he’s home. It must be the name, because I wrote a very similar thing for Lee Jaehwan/Ken but it’s all true. Minhyun can vouch for how hard Jaehwan is to motivate to tidy up, and you’ve all but given up most days, trying to get everything in order when he’s at work so you don’t have his constant need to be attached to you interrupting what tasks need to be done. But you are all too accepting of this trait at night, snuggling up in his embrace on the sofa and watching movies or playing games with kisses filtering throughout the session. If he’s not laughing, then his lips are on yours, kissing you warmly and smiling into them quite often too.

He’s a tease and we’ll get into this a little further on, but sometimes if you’re all too happy to kiss him (which let’s be real is his daily objective), he’ll put up a fuss, making a big deal over how much you seem to want his lips on yours. If you protest since in reality, it’s him who’s delivering all these kisses day and night, he’ll scoop you up in his arms, nuzzle into you and kiss you a little more passionately before pulling away chuckling. He just can’t help himself, kissing you is one of his favourite activities.

Making out:

Making out happens often between you both. There isn’t any rhyme or reason, sometimes all Jaehwan needs is to see you and suddenly he is crossing the group and scooping you up in a passionate embrace. Other times it can come from all your playful interactions that normally end in a kiss. That one kiss can then lead to many more and soon have you panting up against a wall that Jaehwan has strategically encased you against. I mentioned it in his Boyfriend scenario and I’ll repeat it here, Jaehwan might be a tease by nature, but he’s not one for slow and sensual. With how passionate he feels about you, there’s no way he could attempt to drag any making out to slow and lingering. Instead, his hands are hot and exploring over you, his mouth kissing you hungrily. The only pace here is lead by a need to have more of each other, the moans falling from your mouth as his lips attack your neck making him groan in response. This is definitely going to end up going to the bedroom, with Jaehwan’s heated actions demanding a lot of vocal appreciation from you for quite some time.

Morning kisses:

Waking up with Jaehwan can go either two ways. If you wake up first, then it’s going to be soft and endearing with endless snuggles and many forehead kisses in between asking each other how you slept. You could almost go back to sleep with how he has you pressed against his chest, the steady rhythm of his breathing and the warmth of his skin almost nodding you off again. You choose to leave little kisses across his skin in attempts to remain awake and to focus on what he’s saying to you within this otherwise delicious embrace.

And speaking of delicious, if Jaehwan is the first to wake up, he’ll take a much different approach, his hands roaming over your body and his lips are leaving soft, sensual kisses over you until you’re awake and letting out a soft moan. Morning sex is one of his favourite ways to wake you up, and have you both feeling on form for the rest of your day.

Making up:

Fighting with Jaehwan is something you never like to do. He’s petty when things don’t go his way and when arguing this is a very evident trait of his. Because he’s throwing things out immaturely, you yourself become defensive and it’s just really loud and off-putting. You can both hear what you’re saying to each other but it’s rolling out all too fast until the damage is done and neither of you wants to face it anymore. It can be rather dramatic when things get to this stage and a cool down period is definitely needed.

Since connection is important to you both, you won’t last too long apart, coming back to one another once calm to apologise. There is definitely more passion and need in the kisses you receive during these make-up times, and there is a high probability of make-up sex too. The good thing is you both are normally so good at communicating with each other that fighting like this is pretty rare, thank goodness.

Serenading kisses:

From the start, Jaehwan has been serenading you. He confessed to you with a song and continues to write love songs on the regular about you and your relationship. But it doesn’t just end there, Jaehwan is always singing or humming out a tune around the apartment when he’s home. And because singing makes him really happy, as do you, he loves nothing more than singing away and then halfway pressing his lips into yours. You can feel the remnants of the vibrato of his voice as his lips lovingly caress yours before he grabs you in his arms and dances you around the house, singing away loudly. What a dream.

Healing kisses:

Jaehwan is clumsy and it’s often that you have to deal with some kind of injury. Thankfully it’s always very minor, a bruise here and a scratch there, all because he’s too focused on whatever he’s invested in and not his surroundings. Though, this man could trip over his own two feet if he tried (and he has), so have learned over the years to be prepared for anything and have plenty of healing kisses on the ready. Once you’ve addressed any wound or booboo, chastising him the whole time to be more careful, you then lightly place a kiss on the affected area and listen as he chuckles happily. You can’t help but reach for his lips and peck him there as well, making sure the healing magic overwhelms him and he can feel better quickly.

Teasing kisses:

I mentioned it in his private kisses, but Jaehwan is a pretty playful guy. He loves having fun with you or more importantly, at your expense. Some days, he has no chill and will roast you, making your voice rise up an octave and your annoyance is on the rise too. Winding you up is something he takes great pleasure in. For most playful idols, they generally have a partner who is ready to give it back just as much, but with you, until you met Jaehwan and fell in love with him, you had never been someone who joked around as much as you do now. Although you have some skills from being heavily influenced by his humour, you know you’re no match for him. So by the time he’s gotten you good, your cheeks are puffed up and red and you’re ready to hit him.

Jaehwan is good at reading situations though and knows how to push you right to the limit and then come down on you with his lips in a way that makes you almost forget who you even are. These kisses are so powerful; you would drop to the ground if you hadn’t anchored yourself to him, holding on for dear life as he kisses you into another dimension. And boy, is he so pleased with himself when he’s done. You want to wipe that big ol’ smug right off his face, but you can’t. Because that kiss was something he should be proud of and you have to admit, even if you get irritated with his incessant ways, at least he knows how to make it all better in the end.

Selfie kisses:

Since you’re both creative people, taking photos together as keepsakes of your relationship is a natural hobby you both enjoy. Jaehwan definitely is more finger-happy with his endless snaps of your time together, documenting meals, dates and of course, you all the time. He loves having a steady collection of new and old candids of you to look at when he’s away. But it’s actually you who seems to like the kissing photos the most, often reaching up as he points the camera at you both to take a selfie and pressing your lips to his cheek. Sometimes Jaehwan will anticipate it and turn his head right when you lean in so he can pucker his lips up with yours and you hit his arm playfully, unprepared for the impromptu kiss. Of course, this now has him whining about being hit and needing you to make it up to him, pointing at his lips as if you hit him there instead of on his arm. And you play along with his dramatics, kissing him gently before shaking your head at his playful antics. Life is never dull when you’re with Jaehwan and the great thing is you have photographic proof to show just how fun your relationship is.

Lazy kisses:

Jaehwan’s favourite way to de-stress is by laying in your lap and playfully talking with you. Although his chatter is fun, his actions are more endearing, reaching up to caress your cheek in his hand or getting his hand lost through your hair mindlessly. It’s soothing for him, especially when you do the same, softly running your hand over his forehead and through his hair in a rhythm that slows his banter down and leaves him simply smiling up at you. He could stare at you all day long and never get bored, spending an immeasurable amount of time soaking in all your individual details. Your long lashes, the way your cheeks are full as you smile back at him, and just your lips in themselves too. He’s lost in a world of admiring the greatest work of art he’s ever seen. He often turns to kiss your arm softly, his hands now playing with your free one that was resting on his chest. He’ll start kissing your hand gently, noticing the stains of your artwork and the small indent in your finger from forever holding a pencil within it. He loves your hands because they create so much magic in this world and when he’s laying in your lap like this, he feels as if those hands are now capturing him within them, planning on finding a new way to capture him in your next project.

And he’s not wrong either, you’ve equally been staring at him, feeling the growing itch to pick up a sketchpad and pencil to capture this moment how you envision it. Sometimes he’ll fall asleep in your lap and allow you the chance to precariously perch your sketchpad on your knee, staring down at the peaceful image of Jaehwan sleeping on your thigh.

When he wakes up, he’ll find a new sketch well into the works and bury into your stomach, kissing you lightly before sitting up and nuzzling into your shoulder so he can continue showering you in love and watch you finalise strokes with the medium in your hand. You’ll turn and look at him a few times, trying to ensure you got the right angle to his jaw, or the way his hair is styled and he’ll use this as a perfect opportunity to kiss you deeply, overwhelmed with how much he loves you. Even if you protest about abandoning the sketch, you can’t help but let the pencil drop from your hand and move to kiss him more comfortably, smiling as you pull away and utter just how much you love each other.

 Dating Jaehwan is lively and full of the unexpected. Even from the start, you anticipated what he would do with you, and nothing has changed there. Although you know each other well, you know he’ll continue to keep you guessing for the rest of your lives and that’s part of the reason you love him so much. Even though you are complete opposites, you definitely attract endless love and excitement from each other.

_______________

Other Wanna One members: Jisung // Sungwoon // Minhyun // Seongwoo // Jaehwan // Daniel // Jihoon // Woojin //  Jinyoung // Daehwi

[Different Kisses Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist] | [Request Guidelines]

[jjbaconsumedmysoul]

Polnareff x Reader

Hope you don’t mind if i just kill two birds with one stone here, ahemmm (idk does disney have claw machines? It does now!) Big tiddy french gf deserves ALL THE FLUFF and I wanted to make something special out of it these two prompts <3 (also featuring my favorite French pet name: “my little cabbage”)

You were thrilled when he told you about the trip he had planned! A week long pass to every park, a five star hotel right across from the Magic Kingdom, and right in the middle of autumn nonetheless. But no matter how excited you were for the vacation, your boyfriend’s enthusiasm far outweighed yours. On the dates leading up to it he would shower you in kisses, staring at you dreamily and sighing as he talked about how romantic is was going to be, how fun it was going to be! You giggled at his giddiness, joking that maybe this trip was more of a vacation for him and not a romantic getaway for the both of you. But he reassured you that he just wanted to share the fun with you, after all you knew how much he loved taking you to amusement parks.

He held your hand the entire flight over. It was kind of amazing how energized he still managed to be after hours of sitting on a plane, hauling luggage to the taxi, confirming the tickets and checking into the hotel. Honestly, you collapsed on the bed and blacked out as soon as you entered the hotel room.

You awoke the next day feeling warm lips on your cheek. Then your nose. Then your forehead. They kept getting faster until you started giggling and reached your hands out to cup his face as you pressed your forehead to his.

“Are you awake yet mon amour?” you smiled and kissed him lightly on the lips. You weren't exactly surprised to find he had already gotten dressed for the day: a loose fitting tank top with the mickey mouse silhouette emblazoned on the front, heart shaped pink tinted sunglasses, and umm… dear god why was he wearing those tight booty shorts? You shrugged it off (I mean, it wasn’t like you didn’t appreciate the view) as you rubbed your eyes and sat up. Jean-Pierre was sometimes a bit of an idiot when it came to picking out his own clothes, but he was cute nonetheless. You giggled as you noticed a loose strand of silver hair falling out of his usual impeccable hairdo, indicating that he probably put himself together in a hurry, ready for a day full of adventure. Quickly, you hopped out of bed and did the same, looking forward to a fun and exciting week with your boyfriend.

Though he was eager to quickly get off to the parks, he couldn’t skip over the delicious breakfast buffet, and you both spent at least 45 minutes sampling all the offerings they had.

“Mon coeur, look!” You looked up from the steaming cup of coffee that was slowly but surely waking up your body to see a giddy Jean-Pierre holding a tall stack of… “Waffles!!!” the tower was smothered in syrup, whipped cream and chocolate chips, and upon further inspection, you noticed that each golden brown waffle was shaped like Mickey Mouse. He sat down next to you, cutting off a small piece before leaning over with the fork extended “open wide!” You blushed and turned your head away, wringing your hands shyly in your lap.

“But... there are other people here,”  he faked a small pout. “It’s embarrassing…” suddenly, he leaned over the table and planted a firm, long kiss on your lips. Your heart rate rocketed as your face grew an even deeper shade of crimson. You couldn’t deny him the kiss, however; your body just wouldn’t move when he was pressing his soft lips against yours. He returned to his seat with a silly smirk as he offered you the bite of waffle for a second time. “POL?! What was that for?!” You hid your face in your hands as he chuckled.

“Well, now you’re already embarrassed. So a little more embarrassment won’t hurt, right?” Your boyfriend was trying so hard to be smooth, but you couldn’t help but notice a faint blush painted on his cheeks. “Besides, you’re cute when you’re shy and blushy. I just wanna show you how much I love you…” you giggled bashfully at his words before slowly leaning over (hoping to god that none of the other patrons were looking your way) and biting the crispy piece of waffle off the end. It was delicious, of course, and you hummed in approval. It was going to be a great day.

You could barely keep up with him as he ran around the park. Your first stop was to buy a set of Mickey Mouse ears for you and him, or at least for you when you realised the hat wouldn’t fit over his hair.

You tried to flatten the stiff silver strands to get the cap on his head.

“Stop!!!” He whined. “Don’t touch my hair, that’s what gets the ladies going…” he self consciously straightened his hair back into its signature tower as you giggled, raising

up on your tip toes and placing a shy kiss on his cheek.

“Why do you need ladies when you have me?” He grinned as he wrapped you in a strong hug, nearly lifting you off the ground as he chuckled into your neck.

“Well I gotta keep you don’t I?” You nuzzled into his warm embrace as you sighed.

“With or without your silly hair, I’ll love you regardless.” He held you tight for several more seconds before setting you back on the ground, ready visit the first attraction.

“Wait,” he paused, “Did you just call it silly?!”

You went on several rides (Winnie the Pooh seemed to be his favorite for some reason) before taking a break to grab some ice cream. Your boyfriend insisted you both get a large waffle cone of nutella flavor and your own favorite flavor to share.

You sat down on a bench as you talked and ate, his arm resting around your shoulder despite the early autumn heat. But, when you were almost finished, you noticed a shop across the way. Through the crowds of small children, you saw the strange contraption.

“Babe, you can have the rest, I’m gonna go check that out!” He called after you, but you couldn’t make out his words as you ran towards the colourful emporium. Amazement overcame you as you stepped into the cool air conditioned shop. Stuffed animals and plush figures lined the walls, children played with Disney themed doll sets at several small stations spread out across the room. But something had caught your eye near the back of the room, in a small corner. You skipped over to the machine, pressing your face to the glass in excitement as you admired the assortment of plushies: there were teddy bears, bunnies, chicks, puppies and kittens, all so soft and cuddly looking, each one with the Disney logo embroidered onto their paw. They looked so fuzzy and warm! It reminded you of the stuffed animals you’d had as a child. You needed one! You eagerly looked over the instructions on the machine, taking two quarters out of your purse to play. As soon as you slipped the coins in, music began to play and the crank whirred to life. You tested it out for a moment, using the joystick to guide it around above the pit of prizes. You squinted, focusing as hard as you could as you positioned it right above a small stuffed rabbit. And then, you held your breath. The claw began its descent as soon as you clicked the button.

“What’s this, mon amour?” You felt Jean-Pierre’s hands circling around you from behind, and you nuzzled into the warmth of his back though your eyes never left the machine.

“They’re cute, okay…” you blushed a bit embarrassed as the claw finally wrapped around the bunny.

Wait, no!

The claw loosely wrapped around the bunny’s head, tugging to no avail as the stuffed animal became lodged underneath the teddy bear next to it and slipped out of its grasp.

Come on!

You pouted as the empty robotic hand swung over to the area it would drop the prize if you had actually gotten it, sighing as the claw released its grip.

“I’m gonna try again,”

“Aww, but mon ange,” Your boyfriend squeezed you tighter as you rifled for your wallet “You know these games are impossible to win. If you want I can buy you one of the other—” you tilted your head to look at him at disappointedly, and he immediately recognised your unwavering intentions. “Here,” he pulled another 50 cents out of his pocket and smiled sweetly, your heart racing at the sight of those cute dimples. “One more try,” you jumped up and down in excitement as he slipped the coins into the machine, which once again stuttered back to life as lights flashed and you readied yourself at the joystick. Jean leaned over your shoulder as you aimed for another toy, a little teddy bear sitting on the top of the pile, there was no way you could lose this one. Slowly, the claw descended, its metal arms opening as you held your breath. It closed around the head of the bear and gently pulled it upwards.

Yes!

The claw tugged the stuffed animal out of pile, lifting it at least a foot above the pit of plushies, before…

It shifted to deposit your prize in the box, swinging the claw in a and causing the bear to abruptly slip out to its grasp.

Dammit!

You frowned as the empty robotic arm once again dropped a nonexistent prize into the spot.

“Aww,”

“Merde!” he cursed as he hit the machine. Despite your disappointment, you giggled.

“Calm down, sweetie.” You sighed “I guess I can live without—”

You suddenly squeaked as you felt hands grabbing your weight, his impressively strong arms lifting you up and placing you to the side as he stepped towards the machine. He was brimming with confidence as he slid the quarters into the machine. You smiled at his determination.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to try and win one for me.” He gave you a quick kiss on the cheek, his eyes barely straying from the task at hand as the machine hummed to life.

“Nonsense, you deserve a prize for how good you are to me, mon petit-chou,” he grabbed the joystick “and I’m not letting this stupid game get in my way.” You let him concentrate as he guided the claw towards a small stuffed dog. He shifted the joystick back and forth, making sure it was perfectly aligned, his brow furrowing as stared at the machine intently. It was so cute how hard he tried as he finally pushed the button, holding his breath as if even the slightest move might damage his chances.

Slowly, the claw lowered, as it had done many times before, the metal prongs extending as your took a step closer to gauge whether this might actually work. It’s grip closed around the head of the small fuzzy dog, lifting it upward out of the pile as you heard your boyfriend whisper.

“Come on, come on…”

When it had reached the top, the mechanism lurched to the side. This was what had caused that last teddy bear to tumble back into the pile of toys, and your heart sank as the claw’s grasp began to slip. It was a foot away from the collection slot when the head started shifting.

“Just a little more,” It was your own whisper this time, when suddenly the the stuffed animal lurched downwards, nearly giving you for a heart attack for a second, before the claw caught on its ear and slowly made its way to the corner of the machine. It was right on the edge when the dog finally slid from its grasp.

“No, nooo!” Your boyfriend wildly gestured at the machine as the stuffed toy hit the lip of the slot.

But then, against all odds, it flipped against the plastic edge leading to the prize slot, bouncing against the walls as it tumbled down into the compartment. You squealed in delight.

“Babe, you actually did it!” Your boyfriend rubbed his neck bashfully as you kneeled down to excitedly retrieve the small puppy from the machine. It was just as soft as it had looked in the inside, and you hugged it to your chest as you looked up at your loving boyfriend. He smiled at your enthusiasm.

“Of course I did, I wasn’t gonna let a stupid machine beat me.” You stood up as you inspected the prize he had won for you. A small black and white dog with perky ears and a sort of smushed in face, You were trying to guess the breed; it looked familiar with that tiny stubby tail and little pouty mouth under its big black nose. You hugged it and smiled nonetheless.

“What should I call him?” You pondered several ideas, but before you could decide, Jean-Pierre grinned proudly.

“His name is Iggy. He’s a good boy, he’ll make sure to protect you when I’m not around.” You giggled.

“Protect me from what? Too much homework? Bad hair days?” He laughed, pulling you into a hug, you still holding Iggy the stuffed dog between your chests.

“Maybe not bad hair days, but certainly everything else!” He pulled you into a soft kiss, and this time, you honestly didn’t mind that people could see you. This was Jean-Pierre Polnareff, the handsome Frenchman, that silly, sweet, arrogant, determined idiot that you had grown to love so much over the months. And he was yours, and you were his. You kissed him gently as his large, calloused hands gripped your soft hips tightly. You were thrilled to spend the next week together. And maybe even the rest of your life.

(fun fact my mom used to have a Mickey Mouse waffle maker and we ate them every morning for Sunday breakfast when i was a smol child)

[kiruuuuu]

Blitz/Rook oneshot in which they’re on the beach. (Rating G, fluff fluff fluff, ~1.6k words) - written for @magehir because it’s been too long since I wrote your favs being adorable 💕

.

Coming to the beach was a good idea, Blitz concludes. Even if it might not be the beautiful Mediterranean sea and even if they’re not in as desperate a need for a splash in the cool water as they were the week before when they half-heartedly made plans until Sledge actually looked up the shortest way to the sea from Hereford, it was still very much a brilliant idea. Blitz was hesitant at first since he’s not someone who prefers going on vacations to the beach, he’d rather explore the rest of the world and marvel at all the wonders it offers, so an accumulation of sand on Wales’ shores isn’t high on his list of must-sees – but they’re only staying for one weekend anyway. Besides, everyone else’s good mood is contagious.

Not everyone was interested, not everyone got the chance to join them and so they’re mostly comprised of the GSG9, SAS and a few others who share small holiday apartments into which enough beds have been crammed that they house up to five people each though they’re admittedly so crowded it’s hard not to trip over each other when they’re all present. Blitz is rooming with the younger operators, namely Mute, Rook and Glaz, the trio which sticks together like glue, Mute with biting yet entertaining sarcasm, Rook with unending enthusiasm and Glaz with fierce loyalty and patience. The German has become fond of them and watching them desperately trying to protect their sandcastle is a joy.

They earned some mocking remarks upon Glaz announcing the three of them would spend the better part of the afternoon engaging in an activity more suited for kids, though when Smoke jokingly called them manchildren, Mute drily countered that they at least don’t literally start crying whenever a wasp lands on them and successfully prevented all further attempts at making fun of them by simply pointing out an easier target. Blitz could barely hold back a grin whenever someone made a buzzing sound near Smoke’s ear.

So the younglings were free to buy spades and spend an inordinate amount of time on planning where to actually erect their pleasure palace, judging the markings of the tide but also keeping a future thrill in mind of having to defend it against the rising flood – if they built it where the sea wouldn’t reach, there’d be no danger, yet if they built it too low they’d risk being overwhelmed too early. This is when Blitz left them to it, wishing them the best of luck and gallivanting off with Sledge and whoever his friend dragged along.

When he came back a few minutes ago, he was greeted by an impressive structure, the design undoubtedly decided by Mute though the other two decorated and adorned the plain sand with seashells, algae, cuttlebones and even a dead jellyfish on a throne overlooking their efforts. And as sightly as it is, right now it’s being threatened by the approaching tide, every other wave filling up the first moat around the structure and clogging the drain with more sand, necessitating Rook to try and shovel it free in between jumping away from the saltwater with a shriek.

“How long do you think it’s going to hold up?”, Blitz addresses no one in particular, hands pushed into his pockets as he watches the bustling from only a few steps away, a smile playing on his lips.

“As long as we don’t give up hope!”, Glaz replies passionately and reclaims one of his feet which had begun to slowly get stuck in the wet sand.

“I’m never giving up”, Rook adds with a decisive nod while aggressively paddling the water out of the moat with his spade, “if need be, I’ll go down with it.”

“The moat won’t do much like this, we can try to build an impromptu wall and re-dig it while it holds off the waves”, Mute suggests and immediately begins delegating, starts to dig with a ferocity he’ll indubitably feel the next day. “Did the others bore you to death or did you come here to laugh at our efforts which will be inevitably in vain?”

“Neither nor”, Blitz responds. “James and Seamus wanted to go drinking in a local pub and are currently part of a shirtless push-up contest which I did not want to be part of.”

The digging stops, as expected. The three throw each other a series of meaningful glances that amuse Blitz to no end while a wave, uncharacteristically unnoticed, tears down the small lumps of sand designed to be a wall but ending up as a sad excuse instead. He feels his eyebrows rise the more pained Mute and Glaz glance at their companion who eventually rolls his eyes with a sigh. “Go ahead, then.”

“Which pub?”, the young Brit wants to know and Blitz readily gives him directions, acutely aware of how nonchalant Glaz is trying to look. “Ta, I owe you. Let’s go, pine cone.”

Blitz extends a hand and accepts Glaz’ spade, watching after the two hurrying up to the promenade from where he came just a few minutes prior.

“You’re a bad liar”, Rook tells him and he doesn’t need to turn around to hear the grin in his voice.

“I was telling mostly the truth.” The Frenchman’s cheeks are an endearing shade of red and Blitz’ follow suit despite how much he tries to suppress it. “They weren’t shirtless though. Still, the two will probably get an eyeful regardless.”

“And you get to protect Queen Squishy with me. Come on, start shovelling.” They both pick up the pace, Blitz familiarising himself with the feel of his tool first before he begins complying with Rook’s orders. The sea is moving in more insistently now, daring them to divert their attention for a second so it can flood their shoes but they manage to stay alert for now. During a lull in conversation which centres mainly on their immediate task and sometimes includes tangents about the trip itself, Rook looks up and asks quietly: “Did you really just want to spend some time alone with me?”

They both know the answer to it – how could they not when it’s this multifaceted, pre-emptively provided by a series of conversations begun casually in the presence of others and ended sometimes in the dead of night, in hushed voices, in one of their flats because they somehow stuck together like velcro and separating would’ve been too much effort for too little reward. And so they gravitated along before realising that no, normally, people don’t talk about their favourite childhood cartoons while lounging on the floor, propped up against perfectly fine furniture and trying to throw M&Ms into each other’s mouths. The answer is comprised of shy glances, standing just a tad too closely, faces lighting up for no reason other than seeing a certain name in their phone’s notifications. It feels flighty but isn’t, it’s a bird which returns when called but otherwise stays just out of reach. And Rook just called it to make sure it’s still there.

It is. Blitz nods. “I did”, he says. “And I still do.”

The swears Rook shouts across the beach when the first cold splashes get absorbed by his socks make Blitz laugh so much he has to stop trying to save the second moat for a few seconds. It doesn’t take long until he, too, notices his soaked trouser legs caked with wet sand and from then on, it only goes downhill. Walls fall after being eroded by the merciless sea, moats are flooded and ornaments washed away despite their best efforts. Blitz’ arms hurt and he tastes the salty air on his lips, grimaces at the way his shoes start squelching after a while. Queen Squishy sadly witnesses the fall of her kingdom, bravely awaiting the moment she, too, gets carried away by the neverending flood.

He gets caught up in Rook’s joyous energy nonetheless, smiles at his squeaks and yelps, grins whenever he lets out a heartfelt curse and soon they’re both giggling and dramatically narrating the castle being swallowed by The Deep, describing in detail how some residents spontaneously develop the ability to breathe underwater and realise this is where they belong. This is where they should’ve been all along.

And they look at each other with a spark in their eyes.

Eventually, they fail. It was inevitable when they chose their spot, allowing future generations of sandcastle builders to try their hand at the impossible and though the whole endeavour should feel futile, has an air of nihilism to it, there’s more. Because while it seems as though all they have to show for an entire afternoon is sand in Rook’s hair, wet feet and aching muscles, memories can’t be quantified nor seen. And so the result is rich and worth all the effort.

“She got a burial at sea”, Rook says wistfully. “Befitting a monarch.”

The grin they share is pure and familiar and knowing and Blitz’ gaze is drawn to the way the young man’s lips bend around his next words even though he catches none of them, his brain too preoccupied with a question – a question which, once having entered his mind, demands immediate satisfaction, declares itself highest priority and so Blitz has no choice but to give in. He does not yet think of returning to their tiny flat, taking turns in the shower, washing off the sea clinging to them and maybe having some time alone still. He does not yet consider the possibility of cuddling in a bed or leaning against each other on the sofa.

Because right now, he’s content with knowing that yes, Rook’s lips do, in fact, taste of salt and sun and intimacy. Just as he thought.

[trash-the-tozier]

The Disappearance of Georgie Denbrough (4/10)

Title: The Disappearance of Georgie Denbrough

Length ~60.8k (~6.9k for this part)

Summary: The summer between junior and senior year of high school, Bill’s little brother Georgie goes missing.

Warnings: It’s relatively canon-typical in terms of content. For this part there’s explicit language, vague mentions of child neglect, vague description of sexual abuse, description of a corpse, lots of gay

Pairings: eventual Richie/Eddie and Ben/Beverly

A/N: just a head’s up: beverly’s dad is in this part! and he’s a huge bag of dicks. hopefully the reddie will make up for it though. also posted to my ao3 here (much more readable tbh) Previous Parts: 1 | 2 | 3

“I got you ice cream.”

Bill watched as Eddie held out a cone with a huge vanilla scoop on it in Richie's direction. He had two, one of them obviously his and already licked on. His voice completely lacked enthusiasm, Stan snorting in amusement, but Bill noticed that Beverly was grinning. Richie gripped at his chest as though he'd just been shot.

“Eds! You shouldn't have!”

Then he leaned forwards, leaned completely past the ice cream Eddie was extending to him, and licked at the one Eddie was holding close to his body. Eddie shrieked and recoiled, and Richie laughed at him.

“That one's mine! I was already eating it!”

“Oh!” Richie's eyes widened with a mock innocence. “My mistake!” He reached for the one Eddie was trying to give him, who snatched it back.

“Nope. Mine now. You get the one with your germs all over it.”

Richie accepted without complaint, licking the ice cream again.

“Hm. Vanilla with a side of Eddie.”

Eddie scrunched up his nose. “You're disgusting.”

Richie just winked.

“Hey guys!” Ben walked up happily, waving. He looked much better today, Bill noted, than he had the days previous, waving back. Beverly greeted him when he arrived, and now they were just waiting for Mike. Bill was feeling near exhausted with anxiety. Everything that Mike had shared with them yesterday had been both good and bad, both fitting and terrifying, and part of him wished he’d never heard it. But he had something to go on now. Georgie hadn’t fallen into the sewer; he’d been taken there. But Betty Ripsom had been taken only a week before Georgie had, and if she was already dead, if the clown really had been holding her body… They needed to find him as fast as they could.

As if in compliance with his thoughts, Mike came into view, riding fast on his bicycle.

“Sorry.” He gasped. “I’m late.”

He wasn’t--they’d never set up a time to meet--but Bill wasn’t about to tell him to slow down, Mike talking in a rush about how he’d had to take a detour because he thought he’d seen Bowers’s car.

“It’s probably free now, though.” He said. “We can cut across the creek to get there.”

Nodding, they set off walking. Beverly walked next to him, Ben on her other side while Stan trailed behind, striking up a small conversation with Mike. Eddie and Richie flitted around the group, bickering lightly like they always did as they finished their ice creams. Bill supposed their banter would be amusing if he was paying it attention, but it was near impossible to distract his mind from the task ahead. Part of him wished he could, but any time that he spent not looking for Georgie always haunted him, coming back to him as time wasted, time he was letting his brother suffer.

Richie ran ahead as the creek came into view. He let out a shout as soon as he reached the edge of the water, throwing out his arms and skidding to a stop so suddenly that Eddie ran into him and nearly fell down.

“What?” Stan asked. They all hurried over, Beverly cursing under her breath.

“Is… Is that…?”

Laying face up in the creek, eyes wide, bobbing lightly as the current rushed around it was the head, torso, and left arm of a girl. She was pale, bloated, and blue from the water, her dark brown hair a mess around her face. Despite all this, Bill recognized her instantly. He’d seen her enough times, looking into her eyes for a moment before stapling Georgie’s missing poster overtop of her own.

“B-B-Betty Ripsom.”

“Fuck.” Eddie twisted one of his hands into the back of Richie’s shirt, the other grappling with the zipper of his fanny pack as his breathing became increasingly quick and labored. “Shit.”

Stan stumbled over, but as soon as he looked down into the water he turned his back, his body heaving, and soon he was vomiting in a patch of grass a few paces away.

“We…” Ben looked incredibly pale, his eyes on everything except the body in the water. “The police. Someone. We need to tell someone.”

“I’ll go.” Mike said instantly, jumping on his bike. He was out of sight soon enough, struggling to race through the overgrown grass. Richie had gone over to comfort Stan, rubbing his back as he dry-heaved, Eddie still clutching onto him, inhaler in hand, struggling his breathing under control. Bill continued to look down, the corpse’s wide, dead, cold eyes boring into him.

“Stop!” Beverly took his chin in her hand, wrenching his eyes away. “Stop staring at her, I can’t stand it.”

Her eyes were bright, alive, and warm, though she looked close to tears.

“S-sorry.” He mumbled.

“You just… You looked so terrible. I’m sorry.” Beverly let him go. “I--”

“Georgie was j-just a w-w-week later.” Bill said. “A w-week after s-s-she went missing. A-and… If she’s already d-d-d-d-d…”

He couldn’t get the word out, Beverly meeting his eyes again.

“We’ll find him, okay?” She said fiercely. “We’re going to find him.”

The conviction in her voice made something inside of him crack, and she must have felt it because she pulled him in tightly for a hug. Her arms were around him so strongly that it hurt, but Bill knew that if she let up on her grip, even a little bit, he would fall apart.

The questioning from the police took hours. Most of it was waiting around, instructed not to go anywhere as each of the seven of them had individual statements about their discovery taken one at a time. Eddie couldn’t help but feel that they were suspects now, especially with the way one of the policemen kept glancing sideways at where they were sitting--Mike moreso than the rest of them--as he walked by. Ben patted his arm and told him he was just being paranoid, but the feeling gnawed at him anyway.

By the time they’d all spoken, Betty’s body had been recovered from the water and transported to the station. It was on a gurney and covered in a blue tarp, and in a weird way not being able to see it made it all the worse, watching in silence as it was rolled past. The police offered to call their parents, and Bill was the only one that accepted, thinking that they would want to know. The parents of Betty Ripsom were alerted too, showing up not much later, and they watched as Betty’s mother fell apart, sinking to the floor, her husband kneeling next to her in tears. It came as a relief when Eddie looked at the clock and realized it was half past four. His mother insisted that he be home by five o’clock for the rest of the week, and if he wanted to make it in time, he would have to leave soon.

None of them were upset by his announcement, abandoning the plan to go to Mike’s and pushing it to tomorrow instead. For this, Eddie was glad; none of them--but definitely not Bill, judging by the expression on his face--needed talk of a killer clown after what they had been through that day.

Mrs. Denbrough offered everyone rides home but only Ben and Beverly accepted, Eddie heading out the police station doors with Richie next to him. Eddie hadn’t asked if they could walk together and Richie hadn’t offered, but Richie went all the way up to his front door, comfortable silence keeping distance between them.

“Hey, Eddie?” Richie stopped him before he went inside, placing a hand on his arm. Eddie swallowed.

“Yeah?”

“D’you think you could… Could you leave your bedroom window unlocked tonight?” Richie’s head was angled down, his bangs falling in front of his face, his grip on Eddie’s arm a little tighter than it needed to be, and Eddie’s heart ached.

“Yeah, sure. Course I will.”

Richie gave him a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, his hand trailing down Eddie’s arm and falling to his side.

“Thanks.”

Eddie frowned. He reached up, needlessly readjusting Richie’s glasses.

“You don’t need to thank me. I told you that you can come over whenever you need me, regardless of what my mom says. I meant it, Richie.”

Richie laughed a little.

“Nah. If you really meant it I’d be moving in with you, Eds.”

At a loss for anything else to do or say, Eddie hit Richie lightly in the arm.

“...don’t call me Eds.”

“You love it.”

“Shut up.”

Then Richie began his own walk home, Eddie watching him turn down the street before finally going into his own house. He was in love with Richie Tozier, and it was much more than a little bit.

Richie didn’t usually ask first, when he spent the night at Eddie’s. Usually he just knocked on the window, gripping onto the trellis for dear life until Eddie relented and let him in. Richie didn’t ever say why he was there, but over the years Eddie had been able to guess. Hunger, or nightmares, or a fight with his father on one of the rare nights of the month that the man was home. But this time felt different, and it made Eddie nervous, and before he knew it he’d cleaned the entirety of his already-orderly room. Richie would make fun of him for that.

It was late when Richie finally showed up, opening the window without Eddie’s help, rolling onto his bed and knocking three books off his desk with his foot and laughing at the loud noise they made against the floor. Eddie shushed him violently and whacked him with a pillow, but he was giggling too.

“Hey, Spaghetti Man.”

Eddie took him in for a minute, then his mouth fell open.

“You didn’t.”

“Didn’t what?” Richie was trying to give him an innocent expression but was failing marvelously, the ghost of a smile playing around his lips.

“You did not walk all the way to my house in your underwear!”

“That’s what it looks like to me!” Richie, who was lying on his bed in nothing but his boxer shorts and a huge bag of a t-shirt, lifted his legs up into the air, white and lanky and completely bare. Eddie slapped them back down. “What? It’s hot out there! Besides, I’ve gotta be ready at the drop of a hat for my lover Sonia Kaspbr--”

“Put on pants or you can’t stay.” Eddie interrupted flatly, and after laughing some more, Richie did as he was told. He put on a pair of Eddie’s shorts, and once he had them on Eddie didn’t really know why he’d been so insistent; Richie’s legs were so long that the pants didn’t cover much more than the underwear had, but at least it helped Eddie feel a little less flustered. Richie made a big show of taking off his glasses and getting comfy under Eddie’s covers before turning on his side, facing the window, and Eddie slid in beside him. Their sleepovers weren’t about hanging out, playing games or talking for hours. They were about not being alone.

Still though, Eddie had expected a little more than this. Finally, he decided to ask about it.

“Hey, Richie?”

“Yeah?” Richie turned, seemingly surprised to see Eddie already facing him.

“Could I ask you something?”

“What, how I came to be so devilishly handsome? Well, it was a fateful day in 1976, and--”

“No, no. Shut up.”

Richie seemed to realize that he was trying to be serious, falling silent immediately.

“I just wanted to know…” Eddie didn’t really know how to phrase his question. He went as simple as possible. “Are you okay?”

Richie didn’t know how to answer that. He didn’t really want to, either; the idea behind coming over to Eddie’s for the night was to run away from all of the thoughts that had been consuming his mind during silences, not confronting and actually talking about them. Richie didn’t talk things through. He was on a mission to repress until he died.

“What do you mean?” He wanted to know how little he could get away with as an answer. Eddie thought for a moment, biting down lightly on his bottom lip.

“Just… You’ve been acting different. Ever since Georgie disappeared, something has been off, and today...”

Richie didn’t know why he thought he’d be able to hide anything from someone as empathetic as Eddie Kaspbrak. Bill was relatively dense when it came to other people’s feelings, and Stan only offered help if he thought a person really needed it. But that wasn’t Eddie.

“It’s just…” Richie let out a breath. He had to actually do this. “When I was little, like six or something, my parents bought me a cat.”

It was obvious by Eddie’s expression that this wasn’t what he’d expected to hear, and Richie almost wanted to laugh. He’d never told anyone about this before.

“I’d thrown a tantrum, because neither of them had been home on my birthday. They’d both forgotten, and I knew they had, and they tried to lie that they hadn’t, but I wasn’t hearing it. So they went and bought me a cat. An attempt to fix it, I guess. I don’t know. They didn’t buy anything the cat needed though, so I couldn’t take care of him. After two weeks, he ran away.”

Eddie frowned, moving as though to touch him before seemingly thinking better of it.

“But… He’s never really felt gone.” Richie said, hoping that would cheer Eddie up a little. “It wasn’t like I saw him die. He just… Went somewhere else. It’s a weird feeling, but I was reminded of it when people started disappearing around here. It’s how I think my parents would feel, if I actually decided to run away. Just… Somewhere else. They just went somewhere else.”

“But now Betty Ripsom is dead.” Eddie said quietly, and Richie nodded.

“Betty Ripsom is dead, and I’m just… I’m scared.” He confessed. “I’m scared for Bill. I’m scared that I’ll disappear, that those missing posters will have my face on them. Betty Ripsom is dead, and Georgie could be dead, and I would be dead, and…” Richie had to stop. His throat hurt, and his eyes were burning. A panic was stirring in his chest, a feeling he’d been fighting to keep in since Stan had shown up outside his door in the rain.

“Richie.” Eddie reached out, touching the side of his face lightly. “You’re right here, and you’re not going anywhere. You won’t disappear, okay? I won’t let you.”

Eddie was looking into his eyes, his fingertips soft against Richie’s cheek, his expression steadfast and completely serious and in that moment Richie had the incredibly strong, inexplicable urge to lean forward and kiss him. He wanted to kiss the breath out of Eddie’s lungs, kiss him until the rest of the world fell away, and it startled him so much that at first, he didn’t notice Eddie moving closer to him.

He started backwards on instinct but Eddie didn’t let him get very far, reaching out with his arms and wrapping around him, pressing his face in the crook of Richie’s neck.

“Ed--”

“Shut up and let me hug you.”

Richie did.

To everyone’s relief, the next day, they properly made it to Mike’s house. It was a large, incredibly old farmhouse, but they didn’t stay inside of it long. After getting everyone something to drink after the long walk over, Mike led them back outside and into the barn. The sheep stared at them as they entered. Stan wasn't afraid of animals per se, but he liked smaller ones better--birds and bunnies, for instance--and felt a little uneasy around any creatures that were larger than a good sized dog. Mike seemed to notice, putting a hand on his back.

“It’s okay, they only bite if you give them a reason to.” He said, which wasn't exactly reassuring.

“Just like me.” Richie tacked on, snapping his teeth in Stan’s direction and winking. By that time, they'd gathered everyone else's attention.

“Is S-Stan afraid of t-t-the sheep?” Bill asked. He looked painfully sleep deprived again, but Stan was glad to hear amusement in his voice.

“No.” Stan snapped, maybe a little too waspishly, because everyone laughed. Mike directed them up a ladder into a loft, Stan climbing up first, eyebrows going up his forehead in surprise. Journals, old books, and loose papers were strewn around in the hay, more of it there than Stan had expected to see. It looked as though it had started to be organized, but given up on halfway through and turned into a bit of a mess instead. He stepped carefully, making his way to an open patch of straw and taking a seat.

Richie climbed up behind him, and as soon as he’d found a seat he took off his Hawaiian shirt, exposing his collarbones and bony shoulders, now just in a tank-top and shorts.

“It's not that hot up here.” Stan remarked, but before he could ask what Richie was doing, Eddie’s head popped up above the landing.

“My allergies--” He began, but Richie laid his shirt out and patted it.

“Already got you covered, Eds.”

Eddie gave him a surprisingly sheepish thank you, and soon they were all seated in a misshapen oval around Mike's stuff.

“It’s… It’s kind of a lot.” Mike said, rubbing the back of his neck a little as he noticed the surprised looks on everyone’s faces. “I haven’t really even looked through all of it, so I don’t know if some of it is useless or not, but I didn’t want to accidentally miss anything important.”

“W-w-we need to find him.” Bill said, swallowing hard. His face was set. “R-Robert Gray.”

“I had the idea last night of putting together a timeline.” Mike said. “It… It would be hard, and I don’t know how long it would take, but…”

“It’s a good idea.” Beverly encouraged with a nod. “Especially if we could map out everywhere he appeared, too. It would give us an idea of where he could be, or if he moves around.”

They spoke like they knew what they were talking about, and Stan couldn’t help but wonder if he was the only helpless one here. Then Eddie caught his eye, his own eyes a little wider than usual, and Stan felt a bit better.

“I… I-I don’t know.” Bill was frowning. “Wouldn’t that t-take too long?”

“Not if we’re all doing it together.” Ben said. He sounded upbeat, a little too much so when considering the task at hand. “I mean, we’re all good at school. Everyone here can read decently quickly, right?”

“I guess.” Richie pulled a book into his lap, looking less than enthusiastic. “I just didn’t mentally prepare to spend my summer pouring over murder files from the little library on the prairie.”

“Before I met you guys, I spent most of my summers in the library.” Ben said, Richie’s eyes going wide with horror.

“Oh no. Nerd alert.”

“Oh, like you’re any cooler.” Beverly cut in. “You’re one of those losers that would stay in the arcade for hours. Let me guess… Street Fighter?”

“Street Fighter!” Richie cried out mournfully, falling back onto a pile of hay behind him. Eddie frowned and began brushing him off as soon as he was upright again. “You any good at the game?”

“Could probably kick your ass.” She answered offhandedly, and Richie's jaw dropped.

“You know Molly Ringwald, if you weren't such a bitch I could marry you.”

Beverly flipped Richie off, but she was laughing.

“So, timeline?” Ben asked, a little louder than he needed to. He was staring at Richie, who didn't notice. When no one objected, he continued. “We’ll write down all of the sightings of him and everything, and if there was some kind of crime that went with it we should write that down too. Mike, do you have a map?”

Mike miraculously supplied one, and they got started. They were silent for the most part, reading quietly, Richie even keeping the fidgeting to a minimum. They would call out anything they came across that seemed important, and someone would write it down. Beverly was marking and labeling the map, Mike was taking down dates, and Stan himself was on death duty.

“Tally marks?” Eddie asked, looking at his paper. “Really?”

“What?” Stan asked back. “I thought I was supposed to be counting.”

“I guess, but--”

“Pennywise.”

Richie’s interruption had everyone falling silent.

“What?” Beverly asked him. Everyone looked up.

“Oh, it’s just…” He picked up and showed the page he was looking at, a piece from the newspaper a few days after the Kitchener Ironworks explosion. There was a happy picture on the top of the crowd before the accident, and the clown was standing in front of a wooden cart with words and a portrait painted on it. Richie pointed as he read.

“Pennywise the Dancing Clown.”

Stan felt unsettled, the hair on the back of his neck prickling. He looked away, only to be faced with Pennywise looking at him from the pages he was holding, and he put them down.

Eventually, the timeline was complete. Stan felt a little less safe in the town he had to sleep in with his paper showing twenty-three dead bodies, and the map looked discouragingly like a scatterplot, but it was done. They sat for a moment, looking over their new evidence.

“Twenty-four.” Ben said, pointing to Stan’s paper. “Betty Ripsom.”

“Oh. Right.”

Richie was making an incessant popping noise with his lips, looking over the map. Stan hit him in the arm.

“Shut up.”

“No, you shut up. I’m thinking.”

“Rare.”

“No, actually shut--oh!”

He pointed to a place on the map. Nothing was marked there, but Stan knew what it was: the road perpendicular to Bill’s where they’d found Georgie’s rainboot.

“...what?” Mike asked after a moment.

“S-sewers.” Bill said softly.

“Sewers.” Richie repeated with a nod. “Look, he has little groups of activity, and they’re all relatively close to a gutter, see?”

“But they’re still all over town.” Beverly said. “He has to have a home base somewhere.”

Nobody had anything good to say after that. Everyone was quiet for a few seconds, then a loud electronic beep was heard.

“Oh.” Eddie quickly pushed a button to silence his watch. Stan knew what that meant; it was time for Eddie's afternoon medication. He went to unzip his fanny pack before rethinking it, tapping Mike on the shoulder instead. “Could I have some water?”

“Of course.” Mike got up quickly, looking around at everyone. “Uh… Should we take a break? Who’s hungry?”

Everyone’s hand went up, and they began descending the ladder. Something fell from Beverly’s back pocket as she got up, she and Stan the last in the loft, and he picked it up to hand it back to her.

“Bev--” He began, looking over it as he spoke. It was a postcard, a confession of love written out strangely poetically on the back. It was from a secret admirer, addressed to Beverly, who blushed pink and snatched it from his hands.

“You dropped it.” Stan said quickly, holding his hands up to his chest, because Beverly looked like she just might start swinging. “I didn’t mean to read it, I’m sorry.”

Beverly deflated a little, seemingly relieved that Stan wasn’t going to tease her.

“I don’t know who sent it.” She confessed. “It showed up in my bag a couple of days ago.” She paused, looking at Stan in what he realized was a prompting manner.

“I don’t know either.” He told her quickly. “It wasn’t me.”

Beverly looked him over. “I didn’t think it was.”

“Oh.” Stan watched as Beverly refolded the postcard with care, replacing it in her pocket. “It might be a good idea to put it somewhere else, though. Or, not carry it around.”

“Why?”

“Well, you might lose it.” Stan pointed out. “And… You’re just lucky I’m not Richie.”

Beverly was silent, and Stan could tell by the vague horror on her face that she was imagining the teasing that would have gone with the trashmouth finding the postcard instead. She placed her hand absentmindedly over her back pocket.

“Let’s just agree not to talk about this, yeah?” Beverly asked, Stan laughing a little.

“Yeah.”

“Are you guys done making out up there?” Richie asked loudly, Stan feeling his face heat up slightly as Beverly stuck her middle finger up over the edge of the loft. Then she climbed down, Stan following after her, avoiding the side eye both Ben and Bill were giving him. They all reentered Mike’s house together. Mike got Eddie his water first, then set out to put together some lunch. Stan wanted to help him but didn’t quite know what to do, feeling quite useless, knowing by looking at his friends’ faces as they also sat around that they felt the same way too.

Before long, everyone had a warm bowl of soup in front of them.

“I, uh… I made it yesterday.” Mike said, slightly sheepish. “Sorry to give you all leftovers, but I figured it would be better than making you wait.”

“It looks great.” Beverly said reassuringly, and it was. Things like soups and stews were low on Stan’s list of favorite foods, but he--along with Beverly, Richie, and Ben--asked for seconds. Ben stared into his bowl for a couple of moments, but when Mike asked nervously if something was wrong, he just shook his head, rubbing at his eyes.

“I just haven’t had food like this in awhile.” He said. “It’s nothing.”

“Mike, and his tear-wrenching soup!” Richie exclaimed, raising his spoon valiantly. Mike laughed, looking embarrassed, nudging Richie with his elbow to get him to stop.

Mike was fitting in with their group, fitting in so well that Stan barely even noticed it. It wasn’t that the group didn’t feel different, because it did, but it felt… Better, somehow. More balanced. Mike seemed realistic and level-headed, something the group had been missing for some time. They needed someone that could withstand Richie’s constant stream of bullshit without losing their minds, because as much as Stan wanted to say that person was him, he knew it wasn’t.

“Bill, you need to give your eyes a rest.” Eddie said. “If you strain them for too long you could go blind.”

Bill had a book propped up against his empty soup bowl, the thing looking rather old and boasting the cheery title “Derry’s Disasters”.

“But we n-need to f-f-find him.” Bill insisted. “We d-didn’t figure that out. We did all that, but we s-s-still didn’t…”

“But we know a lot more now.” Beverly insisted. “We know that he found somewhere to go fifteen years ago, because that’s when the break-ins stopped. He must live somewhere relatively deserted, and if you and Richie are right, and he has something to do with the sewers…”

“My neighbor’s house.” Richie said suddenly, and everyone stared at him.

“W-w-w-what?” Bill sounded incredulous. “Richie--”

“No, seriously! I’ve never seen anyone live there.” Richie sat forward in his chair, beginning to count his reasons on his fingers. “Abandoned house, it’s right across the street from the gutter…” He then ran out of steam, and nobody looked convinced.

“I’ll write it down anyway.” Mike finally said, taking the pen he’d been using from his pocket and pulling a napkin towards himself. “Any other ideas?”

“I think he might live in the woods, really.” Beverly said matter-of-factly. “If no one in town knows him, he can’t live in town, right? And the sewers open up to the woods too.”

Stan could tell by Bill’s face that he didn’t like that idea, but Mike wrote it down.

“What about that house on Neibolt street?” Eddie asked hesitantly.

“What about it?” Stan asked back. “It’s not really in a good spot.”

“But it is abandoned.” Eddie said. “And… It’s creepy.”

That seemed to be the main point in Eddie’s reasoning, Beverly nodding along to his words.

“I’ve never liked that place.” She confessed. “Whenever I walk by, I feel like it’s watching me.”

“B-b-but it’s not--” Bill began.

“If I were a murderous clown, that’s where I would hang out.” Richie agreed.

“If?” Ben asked. The joke caught everyone off guard, a grin growing on Richie’s face as he looked over at him.

“Please Benjamin, the only thing I kill are the ladies, with my dance moves.”

“Richie, everybody knows you can’t dance.” Stan deadpanned, Richie’s mouth falling open.

“Mike didn’t!” He exclaimed indignantly, gesturing in Mike’s direction, who was laughing again. Despite misgivings, ‘Neibolt house’ was also written down. They tossed a few other locations around, but none of them made the list, and the conversation eventually devolved into a few less terrifying subjects. Stan kept one eye on Bill, who wasn’t laughing or joining in, staring down at the list in the middle of the table.

“Could w-we still go down and l-look through the sewers?” He asked, finally speaking up. “We s-s-still haven’t g-gotten the chance to yet. I just w-want to look around.”

“Sure.” Beverly allotted instantly, but she was looking up at the clock on the wall with a small frown. “We could meet up there tomorrow; we need to get going if Eddie wants to make it home on time.”

She was right. They cleared their places and thanked Mike for his hospitality, Eddie leaving as quickly as he could to get back into town. Bill and Beverly both departed while Stan was in the bathroom, and when he walked back towards the open front door he heard a strangely serious-sounding Richie talking to Mike. Curious, and knowing Richie would go full goofball if Stan made his presence known, he stilled in the doorway to eavesdrop.

“Hey Michael--can I call you Michael? Is that what Mike is short for?” Richie was asking. Mike was silent for a moment.

“I mean… I guess.” He said. Stan peeked around the corner. Richie was looking at his feet, and Mike looked curious and slightly confused at being talked to.

“I feel like I can trust you. If that's weird let me know now, because I've got a question.”

“I…” Mike was still perplexed. “No, it’s fine. What’s your question?”

Richie’s face was full of hesitancy, a tiny bit of fear in his expression, and Stan suddenly felt guilty about eavesdropping. Moving now would make his presence known and he didn’t want that either, but before he could think of an alternative solution, Richie spoke.

“I… I think I’m in love with someone, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

Mike was silent for a few moments. Richie couldn’t stand still while he waited for a response, rocking back and forth on his feet, stuffing his hands in his pockets before pulling them out again to run his fingers through his hair. Stan waited with baited breath, hoping that Richie would elaborate but knowing already that he wouldn’t.

“You should be sure about something that big.” Mike finally said. “And when you are, you should say something. No sense in keeping something like that to yourself, you know? People like knowing that they’re loved.”

Richie stuffed his hands back into his pockets, nodding a little.

“Thanks.” He said, swallowing and looking down at his feet. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Thanks a lot.”

“Sure.” Mike scratched the back of his head and then the moment was over, Richie sticking his head inside the house. Stan shrank back against the wall, but thankfully Richie didn’t look around, just yelling down the hallway.

“Stan! Get your scrawny white ass out here or I’ll leave without you!”

“How about you get your scrawny white ass out of my house?!” Came a responding yell from somewhere upstairs. Richie gave a bewildered laugh.

“God?” He asked back, as Mike clutched his chest in laughter.

“My… That’s my grandfather.” He answered when he could breathe again. Richie nodded a little, and Stan had to hide all over again as he stuck his head inside once more.

“Thanks for housing us, Mr. Hanlon!”

“Go home!”

Ears now ringing, Stan waited a minute or so, hiding until both Richie and Mike’s backs were turned before stepping outside as though he’d just walked up.

“No need to scream my head off.” He couldn’t help but say. “You’re going to give me a migraine.”

Richie winked, grinning. “I tend to have that effect on people.”

Stan just shook his head, thanking Mike again for having them over, and he and Richie made their way down the street. Usually Richie would strike up a conversation, saying something so incredulous that Stan wouldn’t be able to resist arguing with him on it, and they would laugh at each other before parting ways. But Richie was quiet, walking all the way to Stan’s house with him, completely passing the fork in the road that led to his own street. Finally, Stan couldn’t take it anymore. He wasn’t going to ask about Richie’s question--he didn’t want him to know he’d been eavesdropping--deciding to go with a question of his own.

“Hey, Richie… Are you okay?”

It took a beat for Richie to react, blinking as though he’d been pulled from a stupor. He looked Stan in the face for a few seconds before a huge smile grew on his lips, slinging an arm around him and hanging heavily on his shoulder.

“I’m fine! Why do people keep asking me that?”

It was an obvious lie, but Stan didn’t press him on it. Richie would talk to him if he wanted to. They reached Stan’s front door, then parted ways.

Beverly walked Bill home. She knew he didn't need her, and maybe it was a strange thing to do, but if he thought so he didn't say anything. It was a little selfish really, but she knew she would feel better about herself if she didn't let him be alone. Once they'd made it to Bill's driveway, he stopped.

“I h-h-hate it.” He said after a moment. “Can y-you just… Sit outside w-with me for a little bit?”

She nodded and they sat on the curb together. Bill was quiet, not complaining when Beverly took out and lit a cigarette. Then he was quiet for even longer, and Beverly decided to strike up conversation.

“Hate what?” She asked.

“B-being at home.” He pressed his lips together, looking angry. Not angry at her, or angry at his house, even; angry at the world. “After G-Georgie disappeared, being there j-j-j-just…”

“It sucks.” Beverly supplied. She knew it must be an understatement--she couldn’t imagine how Bill must feel--but he nodded anyways.

“M-my parents, they’ve started f-f-fighting all the time. We used to always eat d-d-dinner t-together, but we’ve stopped doing that too. I don’t like l-l-leaving my room, because Georgie’s stuff is still everyw-where; no one can clean it up. No one wants t-to touch it, or even talk about it. A-a-about him.”

Beverly reached out and rubbed his back, resting an easy arm around his shoulders, and he seemed to lean in to the contact without realizing it.

“But being in my room is almost w-worse, just lying in bed… I can’t sleep, I c-c-can’t eat, I… I’m sorry.” He looked over at her. The sun was setting, the orange light catching on the reddish tint of his auburn hair and making it glow. He was handsome, Beverly thought, his cheeks and nose round but his jawline sharp, a green tint to his grey eyes. Her gaze caught on his lower lip, where his injury seemed to have reopened before healing completely, now a red streak that stretched when he spoke.

“Sorry?” She asked.

“F-f-for this. Complaining.”

“I would worry more if you didn’t.” She assured him, sitting a closer and resting her head on his shoulder. Bill’s hand found her waist, holding her, and she rubbed his back a little. “I can’t believe how difficult this must be for you. I’m so sorry.”

He swallowed hard, blinking a couple of times and angling his gaze at the asphalt beneath their feet.

“He h-has this walkie-t-t-talkie.” He said after a moment. “G-G-Georgie, I mean. And he was w-wearing it, that day. A-a-and I know it’s s-stupid, b-b-but…” He stopped, closing his eyes and taking a breath before continuing. “I t-try calling out to him, s-s-s-sometimes. J-just to see if h-he’ll answer. He can’t be d-dead.”

His voice cracked on the last word, his head hanging, and Beverly rubbed his back again, wanting to comfort him. She didn’t have any words that could help this though, she knew that much. She had no assurances; no promises to make. They could only hope.

Bill’s head rested on her own as the sun went down, and it wasn’t until the darkness had fully gathered around them that Beverly realized she was supposed to already be home. A jolt of fear ran through her, and she removed her hand from around his back. He let go in turn, already looking apologetic, but she didn’t let him say anything.

“Goodnight Bill. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Try to get some sleep. For me.”

“Okay.” He finally said, and after smiling and exchanging goodbyes, Beverly made her way home. Dread churned in her gut, and she already knew what was awaiting her. She wouldn’t be lucky again. Her father would be awake, and he would be angry.

He was. She didn’t look at him as she came in, not even when he yelled her name, running past him. He grabbed her by the wrist but she managed to shake him off, making it into the bathroom and closing the door behind her. She locked it with trembling hands, taking the postcard from her pocket, looking down at it. She wanted help. She needed help, but she had nothing of the sort. All she could do was hide the postcard and hope for the best; Beverly didn’t know what Alvin Marsh would do if he found out about her secret admirer, but it was the last thing she wanted.

She stuffed it in the tampon box, a sob escaping her lips as her father pounded on the bathroom door.

“Bevvy! You unlock this door!” He bellowed.

“In… In a minute!” She called back, trying to keep her voice level. It had been a while since she’d heard him this enraged. The bathroom was supposed to be her safe space, but safe was the last thing she felt.

She heard the lock click in the doorknob, and then the door was opened, her father standing in the doorway.

“Bevvy?” He stepped forward, the concern on his face making her skin crawl. He reached out, taking her face in one hand. “Why are you crying? What happened to you? You’re home so late.”

Beverly considered running for the window, but she knew she couldn’t make it.

“I lost track of time, that’s all.”

“Where were you? Who were you with?” His hands moved to her shoulders, trailing down the sides of her body. She was fully crying now, forcing a lie past the lump in her throat.

“Just walking around town with some friends. We went and got ice cream.”

His grip on her hips tightened until it hurt.

“Why would you lie to me?” He asked, his words barely a whisper, leaning in until his lips touched her ear, his liquor-streaked breath ghosting over her face. “You don’t smell like ice cream. You smell like dirty, rotten cigarettes.”

“Daddy--”

“You worry me, Bevvy.” One of his hands was on the waistband of her pants, his fingers trying to get under her clothes. She tried to squirm away, but he held her fast with his other hand. “You worry me a lot.”

It was over in a matter of minutes. It could have been faster, but something new had risen in her and urged her to fight. She'd writhed, clawed and cried, but all it got her was a quick slap in the face and bruises the shape of handprints on her thighs.

“Why did you do that to your hair?”

She was lying on the bathroom floor, tears leaking thinly from behind her closed eyelids. She didn’t respond to the question, but her father wasn't looking for an answer.

“It makes you look like a boy.”

Then he closed the door behind himself and was gone. Beverly curled into a ball, letting herself lay there, letting herself cry. Just like all the other times, she considered calling the police. She considered running away. But just like all the other times, she knew she wouldn't. Instead, her eyes caught on the tampon box under the sink. The top wasn't fully closed, a couple inches of the postcard sticking out, and Beverly thought that maybe her luck hadn't run out just yet.

She pulled out the postcard to look at it again, somehow feeling better and worse all at once. But it gave her the energy to get up off the floor, and when she felt like she could she hurried to her bedroom. She took the postcard with her and stuffed it quickly under her pillow and got into bed, feeling tears stinging her eyes again as her fingers curled around one of the corners.

“My heart burns there too.” She whispered to herself, lying still and trying not to feel the aches in her body, willing sleep to take her.