#i’m saying y’all need to digest for a second i’m begging

[mothmanavenue]

came onto tumblr to gush about how sweet tsats is only to find out some of y’all need to go touch grass 😭

[vorish-musing]

Risky Business (IT Chapter Two)

Summary: Eddie is a monster hunter, he’s called back to his hometown, there's another man eating monster, he just never realized how fucked this job could be.

Warnings: this story contains soft, safe, G/t vore. if you do not like this, I suggest not reading. this is also not a story for the faint of heart, there is (not super graphic) moments of fatal/hard vore, digestion mention (does not occur), fearplay, and the usual cussing warning.  

Hi guys! its been so long! I’ll be honest, i was not planning on posting this, since this was a WIP discarded back in march, but while watching the movie again, I realized I needed to finish this, I really hope y’all like it!

NSFW DO NOT INTERACT

Risk analysis? Was that Job invented before fun?

Well, it Depends on what you call ‘fun’

For Eddie Kaspbrak, risk analysis is fun.

He couldn’t remember much of his past, all that he knew was that monsters existed, the ones that hid under your bed, the ones that prey in the night, he didn’t know how he discovered this for the longest time, he just... knew.

He knew he had to have encountered a monster at one point, but he just couldn't remember when.

His first instinct was to kill these monsters, though after further consideration of how the ethics of that worked, plus the morality of him being the judge, jury and executioner was pretty skewed. He decided to analyze these creatures, at least the ones he found. Witches, Vampires, werewolves, ghosts.

So yeah, he was a Risk Analysis, he analyzed creatures that we’re a risk to human kind.

And yes, it was Fun.

Being a part of a small group of people who knew these monster movie critters existed was something he wished he could brag about.

Though everything changed when he got that call from Mike Hanlon, Begging him to come back to Derry to fight that clown. That damned clown.

His memories flooded back, the childhood trauma of that summer, 1989, when everyone they knew started turning up missing, really they were dead, nothing more than food to the demon living in the sewers

It was then, fighting that demon, when he realized that analyzing these monsters wasn’t enough anymore.

They were not a risk, they were a threat.

Once he got back to his home in new york, he began his own business, he tried finding his way into different circles, ones he never thought existed, multiple people with stories of slaying beasts of all shapes and sizes, and he was now one of them.

He got a second phone, one he could use for his side job, he went under an alias, Richie Marsh. Not creative, a little embarrassing,  but it worked.

He would get calls almost daily, he made pretty good money, but he had one rule, only kill if it had harmed first. He always turned the monsters who had done no wrong away, allowed him to get some sleep at night, knowing that he was saving others lives while doing this.

Hell, the first time he met a vampire, the dude just chilled alone in a cabin in the woods. Not bothering anybody.

He began making a name for himself in the business and it had only been a year, it was impressive to all about his knowledge, how much he knew about these creatures, how fearless he could be.

Up to this day, he scribbled down notes about the varying creatures he saw and met. Sitting in his living room, the constant scritch of his pencil was interrupted by a ringing from his pocket.

He took his ‘work’ phone out of his jeans, putting the device to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Is this Richie Marsh?” A familiar voice was heard on the other end, but he couldn’t quite place it.

Eddie ran a hand through his hair, thankful his phone had a voice modifier, just in case he actually knew the person on the other line.. Even though chances of that were slim to none. “Depends who’s asking”

with one hand, he took a sip of water in a glass, while with the other he opened a new page in his notebook, ready to write down this stranger's name.

“My name is Mike Hanlon, I was given this number by a friend, he told me you could help me”

Slim to none huh?

Eddie coughed up the drink back into his cup,“M-Mike Hanlon?”

“Uh...yes, I...I need your help”

Eddie scribbled down the name very quickly, though nothing in the world could make him forget it. “with what? What's going on?” he felt his heart racing, he didn’t want any of his friends to know what kind of danger he was putting himself into, he didn’t want them to know, or even try it themselves.

“Well… I live in Derry, Maine. There was a curse in this town...right? A monster, it killed a lot of people, but me and my friends… we stopped it.” Mike's voice sounded nervous.

“I...see…” Eddie’s voice wavered, hoping that this wouldn’t be another call back to defeat a killer clown “if you stopped it, why are you calling?”

“Because people are going missing again, but I know it's not what we fought, it's something else, nothing is being left behind, they’re just...vanishing.”

Eddie scribbled a few words down, his throat getting dry as he began to sweat nervously “okay...what's the age range of the missing persons?”

Please don't be kids….please don’t be kids.

“All adults, the other creature went for children, and those killings lasted for a year at least. This happens every few weeks, from my calculations, it's once every 3 weeks, and if I'm right, they're supposed to be here by Friday, they start hunting at night.”

Eddie couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief as he wrote what mike was saying down, opening his laptop and began booking a flight for Friday afternoon “okay, got it. have you seen this creature.”

There was an awkward pause, before Mike answered, almost embarrassed, “No.”

“Then how do you know all of this?” He wanted to believe Mike was reading too much into things, that Derry wasn’t being terrorized with another monster.

“Because one of the missing people has come back, and she came to me-- I’m somewhat of a Private eye in this town” Eddie smiled--good for him, making a name for himself in Derry.

“I talked with this one lady, she told me that she didn’t remember much, but whatever was out there, her two friends were killed, she didn’t tell me how they died, or even how she escaped...she just woke up..”

Eddie scribbled some more ���do you know how many there are?”

“No. but I believe there's more than one, if you come in the next few days we can meet up and-”

Eddie shot up out of his seat “NO!” he heard mike go silent, before adding “uh...no...i’d rather uh...keep my face a secret”

Mike let out a laugh “of course, of course. We will have to talk more though, I have many notes and things that I’ve observed-”

‘Text me them, I have to go”

“But-”

Eddie hung up before he could hear the rest of that sentence, falling back into his seat. He put both hands on his face and sighed loudly.

He had to go back to Derry, and he had to avoid seeing Mike there too. He let out a groan, sitting up and finishing the booking process, it was only two days away, but that gave him enough time to pack everything he needed.

Those two days went by very fast. Mike tried to pay, but Eddie insisted it be free, not wanting to take money from his friend. Next thing he knew, he was on a plane to Derry, a rental car waiting for him and another traumatic nostalgia trip was in his future.

Once the plane landed, he quickly made his way through the airport, wearing a baseball cap in a poor attempt to hide his face. He got into his rental car, driving as fast as he (legally) could on the roads to his hotel room, texting Mike that he had landed, and was going to scope out the locations where Mike had claimed the creatures were.

As he drove through the streets, he began noticing the missing persons signs, it reminded him of when he was young, and there were people he knew going missing. He shook his head. Whatever those creatures were, He was sure he would stop it.

He parked his car in front of the hotel, getting a room key and making his way up with his bags. He used to be very particular where he stayed, but as the months went on with this job, he would just take what he could get.

As he settled in, he got another call from Mike.

“If you need any help, I’m no stranger to killing monsters, just give me a call” Mike sounded worried, but it also sounded like he wanted Eddie to say yes to him coming along, but the man couldn’t bring himself to ask.

“I’m fine Mr. Hanlon. Thank you.”

“Okay, most of the missing persons were last seen around the woods, be careful, the trees go on and on, outside of the town and basically into the next, which is an hour away when Driving” Mike explained a few more things about the town, which of course, Eddie already knew about.

After speaking for a few more minutes about the plan, Eddie hung up the phone, it felt so awkward to be speaking to him under his alias, it was the most disconnected he had ever felt while on the job.

Once he gets all of his hunting gear in order, he puts it under the bed, just in case housekeeping decides to come in, and promptly leaves the room.

If he had to be here for the next day or so, he could at least go out and get some food.

As he walked down the streets of Derry, he made sure wherever he would go, nobody was following, and that nobody who knew him could recognize him.

He soon settled on a cafe near the hotel, walking into the establishment and ordering coffee with a BUNCH of espresso shots inside, after all, he needed all the energy he could get. He was usually much more healthy, but on jobs, he needed as much caffeine as humanly possible.

Sitting at an empty booth in the cafe, he took his journal out, scribbling a few notes down, his plan, he never really needed a plan, but it was nice to have one. He was sure this was a simple case that would be solved in less than an hour, so he didn’t pay much mind to it.

The barista comes to his table, setting his cup of pure caffeine down. Before she could leave, Eddie pulled out a $20 bill out of his wallet, giving it to her

“Save up every cent, get out of this town, it’ll be good for you” she gave him a confused look, like she was expecting him to pull it away as a joke, but with a look in his eyes, she took the money.

The barista smiled, her eyes bright and much more charismatic than his, “thank you sir.” she pocketed the money in her apron “ and that's the plan, as soon as I have enough money, I’m leaving this hell hole--just me and my shitty van. all the way to broadway”

He nodded as she walked away. He took a sip of his bitter drink, going over his notes a few more times--now should I ambush or wait--

“Eddie?”

His heart stopped dead as he snapped his head up, hearing his name, slamming the book closed.

His eyes met Richie's, who seemed equally as shocked to see him there. They stared at each other for a few moments.

W...why is he here?! He...he can’t be here now...what the fuck?

There was something off in Richie's overall appearance, he looked very sick, malnourished, hunched over and wearing clothes that looked like they hadn’t been washed in weeks, his eyes looked like he was coming straight from the morgue.

Though his face was one of shock and confusion as to why Eddie was in Derry that night, Eddie was almost disappointed Richie was not happy to see him there.

“Holy shit trashmouth” Eddie sat up straight “What the hell are you doing here?” He motioned for Richie to sit down, which the man obliged to very quickly.

“Just passing through, I have to get down to uh… Ludlow, Maine.” to this, Eddie was confused, it sounded like Richie was making things up on the spot “I uh...got a show down there, w-what are you doing in Derry?”

He knew when Richie was lying, he always knew, he never told Richie this, but since they grew up together, he watched the mannerisms he had when lying, and could always tell ever since.

But that's because he didn’t want to look stupid, believing what Richie said. Definitely not because he liked to watch the man, and DEFINITELY not because he admired him for lying with so much ease.

Definitely not.

Eddie nodded, taking a sip of coffee “Just uh…” he quickly thought of a lie, “Visiting Mike, I wanted to surprise him, plus, wanted to get away from New York for a while”

“Interesting.” Richie’s eyes fell to the journal Eddie was desperately trying to keep hidden “Aw, does Eddie have a diary?”

Eddie let his face falter a bit, showing off his worry, pulling his journal “its it’s for work, asshat” he narrowed his eyes.

Richie, one who usually would keep poking at Eddie, slumped back a bit “Well, I gotta get going, Nice seeing you around.” he stood up, ready to walk away.

“Wait, come on.” Eddie looked up at the man, extremely confused “are you okay, man? If I'm honest, you look like shit.”

“Yeah i'm...fine.I just gotta get some...thing to eat” Richie eyed him up and down slowly, before exiting the building without another word.

Eddie just stared at the door as Richie walked away, well, not really walking, he was pretty much stumbling away.

Though as he left, the two men from before waved at Richie, like they knew him...probably just fans, Eddie couldn’t afford to read too much into things.

He shook his head, taking another sip of his coffee and reopening his book once again, Richie was probably drunk, and there was no surprise there. Eddie noticed how much Richie would drink last time they met, and this behavior didn’t surprise him.

But it was strange.

He quickly finished up his cup of coffee, placing his cup at the edge of the table, another waitress quickly coming to pick it up as he left the coffee shop, holding onto his journal tightly as he walked through Derry.

He checked his phone, a few missed messages from Mike, sharing a few more of his findings, but Eddie couldn’t bother to read them, his mind was only on Richie.

Why was he lying? What was he doing here? Questions whizzed around his head. Did Richie know something? Did Mike call him too?

Eddie sighed, he better get back to his hotel room, no use thinking about it now. He had a task at hand, and he had to get ready in the next few hours.

And that he did.

He was prepared for everything, he had a few guesses to what the monster was, a werewolf, a demon? but nothing really fit perfectly. demons kill people, but it's not like they would let people escape. Werewolves fit better, you could escape one, but they were not very...cleanly with their kills.

Whatever it was, it was going to be killed, no matter how many there were.

An alarm went off in his phone, letting the man know it was time to leave, get to the woods and start investigating.

He grabbed his bag, filled to the brim with gear, and headed out the door, texting Mike that he was headed out, and that the man needed to refrain from further messages, until Eddie had texted first of course.

He placed his phone back into his pocket, swiftly leaving the building. It was only a twenty minute walk to the forest, but if it felt like forever, his body felt shaky, like he should just turn around.

He never felt like this before, he chalked it up to nerves, with being back in Derry. Something in him still believed it could be IT, but he knew that wasn’t the case. If it was, ‘Richie Marsh’ wouldn’t be out, it would be the losers.

Before he even knew it, he was in the woods, walking down a manmade concrete pathway, exactly where Mike told him to go, trees making it seem like he was walking through a hedge maze.

As he walked down the path, it seemed to get more and more confusing, like he couldn’t even remember where he was going, but thinking it was nerves, he kept going.

His heart stopped as he heard a woman's scream break the cold silence of the night, the sound of heels clicking on the concrete coming closer and closer.

As quick as he could, he bolted towards the sound of the woman, following her voice. He carefully took out a  gun from his bag as he ran down the pathway, his finger on the trigger.

Soon enough, a woman came into his field of vision, she was wearing a black apron, a dirty white shirt caked in blood, and a tattered pair of shorts.

it was the Barista from the coffee shop, She waved her arms wildly as she ran towards him, stumbling around like an animal.

“Please! Please help me! He’s gonna kill me!”

Eddie placed the gun back into his bag, putting it on his back and grabbing onto her as she ran into him.

Her makeup was running down her face, blood all over her skin, her hair was a mess, what once was a perfect simple bun, was now tangled with branches and all kinds of dirt in it.

“Ma’am calm down its okay we just-”

“No you don't understand! We can’t stay here we have to run!” She whisper-yelled at him, grabbing his arm and pulling him into the trees, straying from the pathway. “If they find us they’ll kill us!” she pulled him into a ditch, her breath shaky and tears flooding down her face.

“Okay… Okay take a deep breath, what the hell happened?” Eddie reached into his bag, grabbing his first-aid kit, ready to seal up any wound on her.

She took deep breaths, holding onto her arms as she shivered “these two guys, he… came into the cafe I work in, He was so nice” she let out a laugh, sniffling a sob. “I was so stupid, he asked me and my coworker out, and we said yes, it was supposed to be a walk in the woods, a nice walk… “

“Where’s your coworker now?” Eddie pulled out a cloth to wipe her off with, before he could give it to her, she began sobbing.

“The man…the thing! It ate her!” she said through her sobs. “While we were walking, they… they began saying weird things, like ‘dinner is ready' we didnt know what they meant! They meant us! This man came out of the woods, i called out to him, he just looked away, I think he was one of them.”

As she spoke, he watered down the cloth, giving it to her. “he...ate her?”

She sighed, wiping her face with the cloth, “this is going to sound crazy…”  she hesitated, sniffling again as she looked at him.

“I deal with crazy almost 3 times a week, this is why I’m here, you’re gonna be okay, this is my job.”

She nodded nervously “there was another man there, he was in the trees, before we could even say anything, all three of them...grew..into giants...and… my coworkers date...he picked her up and…”

She suddenly fell into a crying fit once more, falling into eddies lap, he rubbed her back, trying to console her.

“He… he bit her in half!” she screamed through sobs. “I got away, the one in the trees just watched me, who knows how close he is.”

He felt sick as she cried, and Eddie looked away from her… this wasn’t what he expected, no wonder nothing was making sense, there was nobody, because they would eat it.

He was about to say something, as they heard the sound of leaves crunching and branches breaking. “It's not my fault you lost the bitch”

The girl froze, her cries stopping out of fear, she covered her mouth. She shared a terrified look with Eddie, who shared the same look.

“Well it's not mine either, I was in the middle of eating!” the man sounded so nonchalant when talking about murder, but then again, most monsters weren’t remorseful.

“Will both of you shut the fuck up and just get on with it?” the voice sounded eerily familiar, but he couldn’t concentrate on it now.

The three men kept bickering, and the barista nodded to eddie, pointing to the other side of the ditch, mouthing the word “run”

He shook his head wildly, mouthing the word “no” over and over, if she did this, she would be dead.

Either she thought it would work, or she didn’t care if she died, but she ran up the side of the ditch, then began dashing through the woods once again, ignoring Eddie's silent pleas not to.

Instantly two out of the three men yelled, and began running as well, though their footsteps began getting louder and louder, Eddie shrunk back, trying to hide as best as he could.

He watched in horror as one of the giants walked over the ditch, which took them only one step, right above him, then another, then another, it was too dark to get a good look at any of them from his disadvantaged point.

But luckily, with all the noise they were making, he was able to run to the other side of the ditch, running up and hiding behind a large tree, digging through his bag, the best luck he would’ve had with killing these things, was his machete, thanking god that he actually brought it.

Eddie held it tightly to his chest, slowly turning to see what was happening.

“Let me go!” the Barista screamed as she was picked up by the giant, flailing around in his grip.

“Oh I’ll let you go alright,”

She gave him a strange look, before returning to her screams as he lifted her up over his head, his mouth agape.

“I’ll let you go now”

Eddie turned back behind the tree, hearing her screams as she was dropped into the giant's mouth, he wasn’t looking, but his mind pictured it. He felt sick to his stomach, anger bubbling up inside of him

He heard the screams of the woman suddenly stop, and a silence filled the air. Eddie knew what this meant, he felt like he was ready to vomit, his stomach twisting in knots

“Y’know you don't have to drag it out.”

“What? You’re just mad because you got jack shit, maybe you shouldn’t be so picky”

Eddie listened to the three bickers, waiting for the right time to move from tree to tree, making sure they couldn’t see him as he got closer.

In his head he knew this was a bad idea, that he was going to get caught, but this was the first time he had ever actually met a victim, he talked with her, even if it was brief, it pushed him more than anything else did, this wasn’t about money, for the sake of the town, no…

It was for Her.

He took a deep breath as he prepared to move to another tree, planning to climb it and attack in a much better position.

“Ah! I thought I heard something!” Eddie froze, hearing a booming voice behind him.

He. was. Fucked.

He instantly spun around, waving the machete up, he heard the giant let out a yell as the blade bit into its hand, which was about to grab eddie.

shitshitshit

Eddie backed up a bit, before taking off in a run, but it didn’t help, another came barreling in.. barrelling in Eddie's eyes, it was pretty much just a few steps for the giant, the last one just hung out in the back, basically ignoring the interaction.

Eddie prepared to swing again, but the giant in front of him didn’t move, just smirked, catching Eddie off guard, allowing the one behind him to snatch him up.

“Shit!” Eddie yelled as the sneak attack made him drop the machete on the ground.

“You little fucker…” the giant lifted him off the ground at a speed that made Eddie sick, never in his life had he wanted to be on the ground more than he was now, the cold wind made him cringe as he was face to face with the Giant.

Surprisingly, the man looked fairly normal, he wore a plain blue shirt with some black jeans, nothing like any fairy tale would describe it.

His eyes were damn near murderous, he held up his other hand ‘look what you fucking did.” Eddie struggled in the giant's grip, which only made the man laugh, “what? Little hunter doesn’t know what to say?”

Eddie sputtered a bit, how did they know he was a hunter?

“Looks like you got dinner after all, huh Rich?”

“Don’t fucking call me that.”

Rich...Rich...that voice...is that...NO….NONONO

Eddie's head whipped around as the third giant came closer to the other two...those glasses, those clothes...those eyes.

When those eyes met him, they shared the same look, the exact same look that they shared at the coffee shop. Eddie wanted to yell, but it seemed all the sound had left his body.

That's why Richie was in Derry...

“What's the matter?” the giant holding him pulled him closer, “don’t like knowing that you’re dinner?” he chuckled devilishly, Eddie didn’t respond, too horrified at richie to even register what the giant was saying “hey fucko! You listening?”

The giant shook Eddie a bit, still nothing, he gave a look to the other stranger, who just nodded, the same devilish smile pasted onto his face.

Without another word, he let Eddie go, plummeting towards the earth.

Eddie let out a loud yelp, it was almost in slow motion for him, falling through the air, hitting the cold, hard ground, he was sure a rib or two were fractured just by the pain he felt in his chest, but the pounding in his head was much...much worse. He couldn’t move, he could only listen to what they had to say.

“Why the fuck did you do that?” Richie pushed the giant who was holding Eddie, not even caring to remember his name “you could’ve just given him to me.”

Richie's heart sank as he saw the hunter in the giant hand, Eddie, he knew Eddie was lying about why he was in Derry, Eddie was just simply, a bad liar. But he had never expected something like this, he never wanted any of the losers to find out about this. It was bad enough he was hunting in Derry, only a mere half hour from Mike.

“Why not? The little fucker wouldn’t listen, so I gave it what it deserved.”

He felt anger overflow him as the giant talked about Eddie in this way, but he stayed silent, bending down, and picking up Eddie by the collar of his jacket, his body dangling at it rose up.

Eddie could barely move, everything hurt, he knew he was being lifted up once again, but he couldn’t do anything about it, what was he to do, his ribs were broken, he was winded and he was basically a doll to these guys.

He could hear Richie talking to the two, but he couldn’t really understand it, until one sentence was asked.

“So, You gonna chew ‘im?”

This sent Eddie back into his fit of panic, adrenaline coursing through his veins, he began cursing, kicking, wildly flailing. The two giants just laughed.

“Come on richie, you can chew this once, trust me, so much better experience.” Eddie couldn’t tell which of the two giants spoke, but he begged to whatever was out there, that Richie wouldn’t go through with it.

“I’m not a fan of blood, you should know that by now.” Richie rolled his eyes, his gaze back to Eddie, his heart breaking as he watched the man flail around, knowing he was in pain by the look on his face.

“The bitch thought he was going to kill us, he cut my fucking finger! Let him have it!” the giant pushed richie slightly, Richie giving him a glare.

“He's going to die anyways, why can’t I let myself enjoy him squirm?” Richie spoke, monotone. “I like how it feels when they go down.”

It was enough to make Eddie sick.

“It's your last hunt with us, go out with a bang! You got a fucking hunter after all…treat it like it treats our kind!”

“Fuck off, let me do it.'' His tone seemed almost protective, but with Eddie hearing a low gurgle of the man's stomach, Eddie knew it was like an animal protective of its prey.

The two just sighed, watching Richie...just...waiting.

Eddie paused as the giants fell into silence, staring up at Richie with tears in his eyes, his vision was blurry, and his head kept feeling worse and worse. “Please...don’t do this…” he found his voice, only to say that.

What else was he supposed to say? It was rich! The man he grew up with, the man he fought a killer clown demon with….the man...who was about to eat him.

Richie just sighed, lifting Eddie up carefully, much more carefully than the others would even dare, tilting his head up and placing Eddie right on his tongue. Letting go of the man and shutting his mouth.

Eddie's heart dropped at the quick action, Richie not even hesitating before putting Eddie into his mouth.

The heat inside richies mouth was enough to make Eddie let out a yell, going from chilly weather and a biting wind to a human sauna was not the best transition. The sensation of the wet, squishy muscle underneath him giving him a dose of reality-- He pushed against the roof of the mouth, hoping to re-open the mouth, but from the angle he was at, the throat was just becoming him.

He attempted to climb up the tongue, but no matter how close he would get to almost getting out, the saliva around him beckoned him down the tight, hot throat.

“Let me out!” Eddie yelled, but he knew it was no use, that Richie wouldn’t let him go, not after this. “Let me out you...fucking bastard!”

This was it? This is how he would go, he fought almost every dangerous creature in the book and won but he HAD to be eaten by someone he called a friend?

He felt himself getting weaker and weaker, his breath becoming more and more shortened with each breath. He found himself almost allowing his body to be pulled and squished around by the tongue, which happily licked at him.

He yelled as richie rolled him around, coating him in thick saliva in the process, but he really couldn’t do anything about it, the fear and fatigue getting to his head.

As the throat beckoned him down, he clawed at the tongue to keep himself out of the hot, wet esophagus “don’t do this!”

His words were met with no answer, but with a swallow.

Eddie yelled as his lower half was pulled into richies throat, he couldn’t move, which made him flail around even more, this was met with another swallow, thick muscles pulling the rest of him into the hungry throat and down the man's gullet, it was almost second nature to the man.

It must’ve been only a few seconds, but it felt like hours as he slid down the esophagus, unable to move and his Eddies head spinning with anxiety.

The one word spilling into Eddie's mind was only ....”Why?”

He pushed against the esophagus in an attempt to stop himself from sliding down any further, but all the saliva clinging to him and his clothes wouldn’t let him.

Suddenly, Eddie felt his legs slip into the stomach below him, gurgles and growls heard below him. As the rest of him slipped inside the belly, the whole experience became very...very real.

His head was dizzy from the lack of oxygen in the throat, and he couldn’t stop shaking at the thought of this being the final place he would be alive, nobody would know Richie had done it.

And that's the last thing Eddie Kaspbrack remembered, before passing out completely.

----------------------

Richie paused as he felt eddie go limp on his tongue for a few moments, he was scared this was too much for the little guy and his heart gave out, but the small man began to thrash around once more, which in a dark way, got him relieved, so he could continue.

This was a disaster, he hated how he had to eat people already, but the fact that it was Eddie made everything so much worse.

Richie should’ve known something was up when he saw Eddie in that cafe, he just couldn’t focus with the hunger eating him up inside.

Now it wasn’t only hunger eating him up...it was guilt.

He rolled Eddie around on his tongue a few more times, capturing the taste of the man.

he hated to admit it, but people tasted so good. It was almost like a drug for him, nothing really could sustain him for long, except for this. The longest he could go without eating a person was three weeks, he would move town to town with his tour, every few weeks swallowing a person to keep his energy up.

He carefully swallowed a few times, his Adam's apple bobbing as he brought his head back down, he could feel Eddie sliding slowly down his gullet, esophagus stretching as he did so it felt so...normal for him, like it was second nature.

One thing he was grateful for, was that he was the only guy that night who didn’t have a meal already lined up.

The past few weeks, meeting up with these guys got worse and worse, they were cruel, but for some reason they liked him, and would not leave him alone no matter how much he demanded them to, but tonight they agreed that tonight could be their last night

They always wanted it to be Derry, maybe because they lived there, maybe because the people tasted better. Richie didn't know, all he did was agree, since he didn't want one of their victims to become someone that he cared about. .

He felt guilty knowing the fates of the other two girls, but he knew he couldn’t stop it, they chose to kill those girls, they could’ve safely eaten them, but they chose to kill, which they thought he chose as well. He couldn’t change this, and it made him sick just to think about it.

As the two other giants shrank back down to their normal height, RIchie didn’t even bother to remember the jackasses names, they looked up at him.

“Sad to see ya go! Maybe we’ll meet up again!” one of them spoke, the other just nodded, before they both walked away.

sickos...

Richie stayed silent and still until they got out of sight, before letting out a deep breath, holding onto his stomach as he felt eddies body slip inside of it, it felt so...good to have someone in there again

But all according to plan,  he felt Eddie pass out, feeling his shallow breaths as he lay unconscious in his belly.

He was going to be okay...

----

It's too hot, It feels like I’m melting...I can’t move...I have to get out of here...I have to…

Eddie's eyes snapped open at the sound of a car horn, and a familiar yell, his head throbbing and he almost jumped out of his seat, he would’ve if he didn’t have his seatbelt on…

Seatbelt?!

Eddie's head snapped in every direction as he looked around, he was in a car, a blanket covering him...not where he thought he was...did...did he actually...no...he wasn’t...he couldn’t be… he wasn’t inside of a...

Richie let out a yell as Eddie popped up, making him swerve the car violently into the left lane, then back into the right lane, causing a chorus of more car horns to indicate that what he just did was an asshole move.

“Jesus fucking christ Eddie!” Richie yelled, “you scared the shit out of me!” he kept his eyes on the road, but the shock poured off of him like sweat.

Eddie just stared at richie as he drove, he could feel his body shaking at the sight of the man… he stammered for a moment, but he was only able to get out one word.

“Y-you…” his voice cracked a bit.

He didn’t want to believe it was true, but his clothes and hair being damp pointed out that might be the case, he felt his eyes sting with the threat of tears, never before had he felt this much Terror.

“I what eddie? I saved your life, what the fuck were you doing there?! If I wasn’t there you’d be fucking dead!” Richie turned to Eddie, giving him an angry look.

Richie was angry… at him?!

As Eddie got a good glypse at Richie, he noticed the man's face was red, his eyes a bit puffy, and he was shaking profusely, not to mention the cracks in his voice and the tears rolling down his face.

Richie was crying...Richie never cries…

“You actually...you fucking ate me?!’” Eddie finally worked up the courage to yell “What the fuck man?! I thought we were friends?!” his hand fell to his side, instinctively grabbing his knife holster, though only grabbing nothing, his knife lost in the fight earlier.

Richie didn’t respond, he just kept staring at the road. This just made Eddie angrier.

“You fucking piece of shit!” Eddie pulled the blanket off of him, shivering as his damp clothes absorbed the cold air around him. “You didn’t even tell any of us, you are a fucking m-monster!”

Again, silence, but he could see richie white knuckling the steering wheel.

Eddie could feel hot tears coming down from his eyes, “what's your plan now?” he couldn’t see himself leaving this vehicle alive, unless he hopped out the car door right now, even then he had a higher chance of ending up dead. “you should’ve made it quick like those other two fuckers did” he mumbled quietly.

Suddenly, Richie swerved across a few lanes, making Eddie slam into the car door instantly, which caused another abundance of yelling and anger from the man.

Richie didn’t say a word as he moved off of the highway, onto a local road, close to the treeline of the woods, slamming on the breaks at the closest place he could pull over at.

Eddie couldn’t help but be afraid of Richies silence, his slight shakiness as he held the wheel and the fact that Richie refused to make eye contact as he cried.

“I could’ve killed you.”  Richies voice cracked a slight bit.

Eddies heart sunk hearing those words, he could feel every bit of fear he had felt before hit him once again “R-Richie...I-I-”

“I could have done everything I said I would out there, and you could imagine what they would do if I wasn’t there…”

“Richie...p-please-”

“But I wouldn’t...I...I can’t Ed’s!” Richie lost all of his composure, and began yelling “I couldn’t let anything happen to you! What the hell were you thinking going after us? You could’ve died, Killing IT was one thing, but you’re alone!”

Eddie stared at him with a shocked expression, he felt his face flush, even if he was angry and scared, he was almost embarrassed, he felt like a child being berated by a parent, he frowned.

“You. ate. Me.”  Eddie spoke, emphasizing each word. “You ate me and you’re giving me shit?”

“But you’re still alive, hm?” Richie gestured up and down to Eddie, “nothing Hurt huh? You’re welcome.”

Those words actually got through to Eddie, “how am I...not dead…”

Richie sighed, hearing Eddie's tone, not angry, just...scared. “I’m not like them, Eddie. It's safe, because I’m safe…” Richie pinched the bridge of his nose “fuck that didn’t make sense, I..Its just something I can do.”

Eddie got a good look at Richie at this point, the man was no longer disheveled, he looked like he was good as new, no bags under his eyes, he didn’t look like he was going to pass out anymore...he looked healthy.

Eddie, felt tired, nauseous, and felt like he was about to pass out, they practically switched places. t

“What did you do to me…?” Eddie asked, which richie let out a small chuckle.

“Unlike Them”  he spoke of the two like it was bad luck to even think of them “I can’t digest living things, i uh… do have to eat living creatures though” he looked at Eddie, answering before the man could ask the question “I take energy, that's why you passed out, you came on the right day honestly, i usually wait a while before eating.”

“That's why there were survivors, that's how Mike knew--”

“Mike knows?” it sounded like a stupid question, but it had never crossed his mind. “How much does Mike know?” his voice was desperate, almost terrified.

“Not much… one girl that you...let go...talked to him about what she remembered…”

Richie shook his head “Fuck!” he yelled, slamming his hands on the wheels. “I left her on the pathway, watched her wake up, she shouldn’t have known about what happened.”

Eddie jumped at the slam “She didn’t remember anything, she thought escaped on her own, Mike has no idea what's going on, he...doesn’t even know he sent me here.”

“How the fuck doesnt he know?”

This is where Eddie began to feel nervous again-- what to say?

“A simple alias and a voice modifier did the trick.” Eddie rolled his eyes “and this isn’t my first time doing this.”

The shifter's heart sank.

Richie began piecing it all together, “You’re actually a hunter…?” he asked, “Tell me your joking Ed’s, you’re fucking with me…”

The thought of Eddie being an actual hunter was almost as absurd as knowing richie was a giant. Eddie was pretty fearless, but he didn’t act like the other hunters he’d met, if Eddie was actually a hunter, Richie was most likely a dead man.

“I uh… did tell you that I’m a Risk analyzer, I just didn’t tell you what kind of risks I worked with…” Eddie looked away, almost embarrassed. “I didn’t think I’d even run into you...or any of the losers on the job… Especially if the job is on one of you.”

Richie just stayed silent, Eddie. Eddie fucking Kaspbrack, kills monsters, just like him...all the time? He just silently turned on the car, driving back onto the main road. He felt this...intimidation now, and Richie did not like it at all.

“Richie?” Eddie asked, staring at the man, who just kept his eyes on the road. “Richie what's going on…?”

“I’m going to drop you off at your hotel, and guessing that there’s only one hotel that's not a total shithole, I’m guessing that's where you’re staying.” he spoke fast, like he didn’t want to talk to Eddie, which made the other man frown.

“You’re right...but...you seem...off.”

“Finding out my best friend is a killer isn’t something I really enjoy knowing.”

Holy shit…”Richie, are you...scared of me?” Eddie asked, utterly confused. He got no answer except for Richies face turning a slight red colour.

Eddie turned a bit red, but quickly changed the subject when Richie pulled into the driveway of the hotel, parking. “Are you going to answer me, dickwad” he only added the last part to get a reaction out of the man.

Richie snapped his head over to Eddie,  “we’ll finish this talk in the hotel room, I’m not staying in this car the entire night.”

“In the hotel room? What makes you think I’m letting you up there?”

“Because you can’t fucking walk.” Richie snapped once more, pointing to Eddie's legs, “Just try.”

Eddie just nodded, giving Richie a snarky look, then getting out of the vehicle.

“See!” Eddie spoke as Richie started, just waiting.  “What was that about---!”

Eddie couldn’t finish the sentence of glory as his legs wobbled. Making him fall to the concrete of the parking lot with a painful groan.

Richie got out of the car, a smug look on his face “what was what about?” He stood, hands in his hoodie pockets, holding back a bit of laughter.

Eddie just looked up, about to yell once more, but his own fear silenced him as he had to look up at Richie again, towering over him as he was on the pavement.

Richie frowned, seeing the fear in the hunters eyes, sighing

“Fuck--Here” Richie bent down, grabbing onto eddie, pulling the mans arm over his shoulder as to stablize him and help him move.

At first Eddie pushed back, not wanting Richie to even touch him at the moment, but something made him turn red as he got so close to him.

‘Do. not. Even. think. About. It.’

The walk up to the hotel room was silent, only minor grunts or breaths from either of the men.

Richie was practically going nuts with Eddie so close again--He would never admit it, but having eddie so close to his nose, he couldn’t help but smell him once again, and he smelled so...delicious, and the fact that he was able to taste him once meant that he knew that eddie was delicious.

‘Stop it….fucking stop.’

As they reached Eddie's door, the man tried to get the keys out of his pocket, only for Richie to just grab it out of his pocket himself, unlocking the door.

“T...thanks”

“Get in.”

Eddie sighed as they both walked in, the door shutting behind them. Eddie turned red as his luggage bag was sprawled on the bed, knives visible.

Richie groaned, seeing the blades, setting Eddie onto the bed, “Have enough fucking Knives man?”

“What? Scared?”

Richie said nothing, but looked away.

“The man who Eats people alive, is afraid of me?” Eddie couldn’t help but laugh, dry and sarcastic, “and I’m not a killer…”

Richie gave him a disbelieving look, eddies laugh faded

“Well I am a killer, but it's not like that...I researched creatures like you for a while, I made like four journals just observing you guys…”

“Wow, a nerd in literally everything. Even murder” richie rolled his eyes, but it was very noticeable when his shoulders relaxed slightly, though still seemed on guard as Eddie spoke, his eyes narrow and hesitant.

“After IT,” Eddie turned away. “I realized that some of these creatures, they just want to Hurt people… and...I just can’t let that happen. So I became a hunter… it was tough at first, but i’ve gotten better.” Eddie rubbed the back of his neck nervously “B-but I don’t kill people who are just trying to live their lives, only the ones who are killing people...which doesn’t make me that popular.”

Richie gave Eddie a look, not disproving, but just...intrigued, “Damn, a hunter with a moral backbone? Where have you been all my life”

Eddie paused, “I’ve been in your fucking life” He almost felt offended “suddenly I haven’t been with you because of my fucking career choice? Newsflash fuckface, I’m still fucking eddie kaspbrack”

Richie’s eyes widened “I didn't mean it--”

“You fucking EAT people. And I still see you as my...friend” Eddies voice lowered, looking away, “trust me, if I didn’t you’d be dead.”

Richie fell silent, somehow the word ‘friend’ still hurt him. Eddie could see the hurt on his face, looking away as well.

“All the other hunters i’ve known never gave me a chance to explain” Richie finally spoke after a few minutes, “They just see me as a monster.”

“i-I’m sorry.” Eddie responded “I didn’t mean--”

“Oh shut up.” Richie flashed a smile “You get a pass, I fucking ate you. I didn’t get a chance with any others.”

Eddie couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle at the comment, something so absurd about the situation allowed him to. He was a hunter, who had been eaten, and is now talking to the person who had eaten him.

“So...the other losers?” Eddie fake coughed, trying to change the subject “Do any of them know”

“FUCK no.” Richie shook his head loudly, “If they knew that I’ve wanted--” Richie paused mid sentence, sputtering, clearly not wanting that to come out.

Eddie's eyes widened, “No no no, you don't get to say that shit and NOT finish the sentence, dickweed.”

“I-I..er--” Richie couldn’t form a coherent sentence, too busy turning redder than a tomato.

“Richie...Have you thought about...Eating us...like all of us? The losers?”

At first, Richie resisted, sputtering out a shaky ‘no!’, but Eddie just stared at the man, his expression not changing, it was a trick he would use when they were kids, Richie would always break.

“Fuck you Kaspbrak!” Richie finally broke, throwing his hands in the air “what do you want me to say? There's not one goddamn day that goes by since the reunion where i don’t think about it! There! Judge me all you fucking want! It's not gonna change the fact that I wanted to Eat you!”

Richie turned red again as eddie just stared “forget it”

“Did you ever try?”

It was richie's turn to look offended “you think im fucking stupid? If I tried anything on that trip, you’d think i was IT, I wasn’t about to be killed by my friends!”

Eddie put his hands up defensively “Okay okay! Don’t get your panties in a twist! It was a fucking question!”

Richie slumped back, defeated “I’ve thought about it sure---I never planned to though!” Richie almost sounded like he was trying to promise Eddie this, rather than convince him “I never planned on telling you guys, not that you’d believe me if I did.”

“Well you didn’t exactly tell me...so you kept your plan?”

Richie gave him a ‘are you kidding me’ expression

“I will eat you again”

“Don’t make me pull out the Knives, Tozier.”

Before Richie could even say another word, a loud ringing came from the luggage bag. It was his backup phone, Eddie reached for it, Richie first shook his head not to answer, but Eddie did anyway.

“Mr Marsh? Oh thank god you answered, it's been so long I thought the worst? What happened?” Richie tensed up, hearing Mike's voice on the other end of the phone, Eddie looked at the frightened predator and shook his head, mouthing the words ‘voice modifier’ which made Richie calm down slightly, still uncomfortable to hear Mike's voice.

Though on the other hand, Richie couldn’t help but laugh at the ‘Mr. Marsh’ mouthing to Eddie ‘are you fucking serious?’

Eddie shook his head, trying to wave the man off “Sorry Mr Hanlon, I understand your concern, everything is--”

“Ed’s?”

Eddie's sentence came to a full stop as Mike said his name, and so did his heart “w-what?”

“i-I” Mike stammered on the phone for a second “Eddie is that you?”

Richie, in an act of pure instinct, snatched the phone away from Eddie, who yelled out a quick “wait!” Before Richie hung up, turning the phone off.

There were a few moments of silence, you could practically hear the two’s hearts pumping loudly and full of anxiety.

“Shit.” they both said in unison.

---------

its good to be back...again!

[jawnjendes]

something more than me | shawn mendes

university au, shawn x goth gf. if there’s anything else yall wanna see regarding this series, let me know!

masterlist | series playlist

These days, the only way you could get me out of the dorm room apart from class and work was if you needed a buddy to travel with at night. What I’m trying to say is my roommate, Stella, wanted to go to a coffee shop after the sun went down. She would have gone alone if it wasn’t in a questionable part of downtown. It was also a coffee shop neither of us had been to before, and it was far from campus. She wanted me to go with her because I was always preaching about travelling in pairs at night.

The only thing is, Stella told me we were going out about fifteen minutes before she intended to head out the door. She was already dressed in a hoodie and leggings, a red beanie over her brown hair. She had her boots on and keys in hand. She was ready, while I was the opposite. The moment I woke up today, I decided to throw the whole day away. No interaction, no makeup, no pants.

“Come on!” Stella snapped, pulling off the comforter I was lying under.

I’ll admit, I was a bit under the weather these days. I had been waiting for a prescription refill on my antidepressants. Sleep evaded me, and when it wasn’t, I was having nightmares. Aside from that, my digestive system was giving me a hard time, which added to the mental stress. Finally, there was the fact that I was still in a gloom from, for lack of a better phrase, “breaking up” with my toxic fuck buddy, Luca. You could imagine how much I did not want to go out tonight.

“Isn’t that place, like, on the other side of town?” I asked, mumbling into my pillow. “Why not just go to Starbucks?”

“Because Shawn and Camila are performing at this place and I promised I’d go!” Stella hastily replied as she reached down to the floor to grab my jeans. “Now get dressed so we can go!”

“I don’t know those people…”

“You know Camila!” My pants were thrown at me. “Cover up your granny panties and let’s go!”

I vaguely knew Camila. She sat in the front of my stats class, always chatting to the professor. I was always in the back, close to the exit, staying as invisible as possible. We weren’t friends.

Stella was persistent, so I rolled out of my small bed and pulled my jeans on. “At least it’s not a bar.”

~

We showed up to the coffee shop after the show had started. People were spilling out the door, but Stella pushed her way in with me on her tail. A boppy tune was booming through the vicinity, and two distinct voices were singing passionately accompanied by an acoustic guitar.

Stella dragged me past the cashier/barista, claiming that there would be time for that later. She stopped near the front of where the singers were; A short girl who was fully jamming to her own song, and a tall guy with a guitar singing beside her.

I knew the short girl was Camila. Who could forget her beauty and voice that was talked about all over campus? I did not recognize the tall curly haired guy, though it was easy to tell he liked the group of girls sitting directly in front of his singing space.

My body was there, but I felt out of place. I thought that only happened at bars and night clubs. I wasn’t fond of being in a crowded space, or out of my dorm. My therapist said it was good for me, though. Being surrounded by strangers is better than being isolated, even if you feel alone in that crowd. Those are her words, not mine.

I snapped back into reality when the song ended and everyone started clapping. I joined in, trying not to look like an obvious stick in the mud. Come on, we can do this.

“Thanks, guys!” said Camila into her microphone. “I’m gonna leave it to my friend Shawn now!”

The girls in front were certainly happy about that. That Shawn guy was too. Must be a Leo.

Stella flagged down her friend as soon as she was offstage. Camila excitedly approached us and hugged us both. I tensed up at the touch, and my nose itched at the scent of her perfume, but she didn’t notice.

“I’m so glad you guys made it!” she exclaimed.

I’ve talked to you exactly once.

She and Stella chatted for a little bit before the next song started. Now, instead of holding a guitar and standing at the microphone, Shawn sat down in front of a keyboard set up. I internally prepared to barf at the incoming slow love song.

Thirty seconds into it, I learned to not judge conventionally handsome singers and assume they only live to make ladies swoon. This song was fucking sad and poking at my own wounds.

“You’ve got ahold of me Don’t even know your power I stand a hundred feet But I fall when I’m around you”

I got that cold ache in my chest just like I did two months ago. My throat burned and tightened up. I was immediately sucked into the song, and mildly resenting it. How dare a handsome singing man make a song that I actually like.

Someone hurting you so bad that you’re begging them for mercy… That feeling was my best friend and worst enemy. She knocked the wind out of me many times, so I had to kick her to the curb. You can find the will to leave someone toxic, but no one ever tells you how hard it is to deal with the sadness and aches that come after. I just couldn’t pinpoint why it was happening. I cut off the toxicity, I removed the bad thing. Why was I so fucking sad?

Applause rippled through the crowd as Shawn hit the bridge. I let out a soft breath and clapped as well. This guy certainly knew how to move a crowd with his voice.

“I’m prepared to sacrifice my life, I would gladly do it twice”

If I was the type to smoke cigarettes, I would have stepped outside to do so. My eyes were starting to sweat, so I looked at the floor and tried to suck it up. The toxic ex was making his was into my brain again. It was bad enough I still saw him at work…

The show ended with that last song. Shawn thanked the audience and waved at the girls in front. As soon as he stepped off the stage, everyone in the shop rushed to the barista to order drinks and whatnot. That was when Stella grabbed my wrist and ushered us back outside. Camila followed close behind, her hands on my waist. Didn’t have boundaries, I guess.

“Y’all are getting popular,” Stella said when we were finally out in the chilly night.

Camila was beaming. “Amazing, right? We had no idea it would turn out like this!”

“So when are you and Shawn tying the knot, eh?” Stella nudged her friend.

“Ha! You’re so funny!” Camila replied with an eyeroll. “We’re looking, just not for each other!”

That made Stella smile mischievously, and she glanced at me. “Inch resting.”

The two girls talked some more, while I merely listened. This was still better than being at a bar… Or alone in my dorm for the millionth time on a Saturday night. Maybe I needed someone, or something more than me. Something to push me to… I don’t know? Something better, I suppose. Stella was good at that when she wasn’t in Full Extrovert Mode. I couldn’t demand she always “takes care” of me, though. She deserved a good time as much as anyone else did.

For convenient timing, the singing man emerged from the overcrowded coffee shop. He spotted Camila and joined our circle. He had a drink holder in his hands, and a big smile on his face.

“Hey guys, I brought drinks!” he greeted, looking at all of us. His face was much kinder when it wasn’t hidden by dim lights.

I also couldn’t look directly at him when he gave me a cup. Nope, we’re looking at the ground now, laid ease.

Stella, on the other hand, was not having it with my quiet, introverted ass. She nudged my arm to make me look up and then she properly introduced me to Shawn.

“Oh, you’re the goth roommate!” he said. “It’s nice to meet you!”

Will I ever be able to trust Stella to make me seem like a normal person to other people? Probably not. At least she was trying to get me out of the shell I made for myself.

“You too,” I replied with an awkward smile. “Good set.”

“Thanks. I saw you tearing up in the crowd.”

Fuck.

“That’s impossible, I don’t do tears,” I said without thinking. Okay, edgelord. You’re so edgy. So original.

Shawn chuckled. “Maybe it was the other girl with black lipstick and the Underoath t-shirt.”

And we’re looking at the ground again!

“Hey, aren’t you and Shawn doing the same major?” Stella asked, nudging me once again.

“Music?” Shawn guessed, looking intrigued.

I was puzzled, glancing at Stella once. “Um. No. Psychology.”

“Oops. Had a brain fart.” My insane roommate giggled.

“It’s cool.” Shawn smiled and lied his stupidly cute eyes on me once again. “A psych major, eh? Are you analyzing my every move?”

Funny joke. First time hearing that one.

“No, but I can for three hundred dollars,” I said back.

“Is that how much a shrink is?” Camila piped up.

“No!” Shawn answered. “Free healthcare!”

Yeah… yeah, he got me there.

“Somehow, I still think I’m in the States,” I said timidly.

After that, Stella and Camila strolled down the street. That pretty much ended Stella’s Safe Buddy Duty. I felt quite out of place once again as she babbled away to Camila in Spanish. It’s not that I didn’t speak the language, I just really am as much of a hermit as I’m told.

Shawn thought different as we walked someways behind them. “They always do that in class. You can’t understand them either, eh?”

“¿Y porque piensas eso?” I replied, once again without thought. “Simplemente soy muy callada y casi nunca me salgo de la casa. Nomas estoy un poca incomoda con personas que no conozco.”

“Awesome,” he said after a moment of silence. “So… you’re from the US?”

“Yup. Southern California.”

“What made you want to come all the way over here for college?”

“Simple: I don’t like the desert. Or heat. Or the sun.”

I had my eyes on the sidewalk I stepped on until I realized Shawn hadn’t replied. I looked up only to realize he was looking back at me in disbelief.

“That’s it? You moved countries because of the weather?”

What is he expecting, my life story?

Before I could talk back, Stella piped up from in front of us. “She’s a goth, she’s allergic to the sun!”

“Ah, so it was for your own health,” Shawn replied. “I get it now.”

~

The next time I saw this guy was at a bus stop just outside of campus. I had seen him from where I parked my car, and I secretly hoped he would have forgotten me by now. I made sure to have my headphones on as I walked past him, but he touched my shoulder and stopped me. So much for remaining invisible.

“Do you always look at the floor when you walk?” he asked, amused.

“How else will I know where to step?” I said in return.

He laughed, which was then followed by silence. Why did he stop me? Just to say hi? What kind of fuckery-

“You’re not wearing the black lipstick,” he pointed out.

I shrugged, feeling… inadequate. “Didn’t want people constantly reminding me of my lip color.”

“Well, it looked really cool the other night. It’s kinda what made me notice you.” He offered a smile, to which I changed the subject.

“So, where you headed?”

“Work. I work at this flower shop in the middle of town.” Shawn looked both ways, noticing the empty roads. “I think the bus is late.”

The bus is late. He works with flowers. The bus is late. Flowers.

“Are you running late?” I asked. Don’t do it. Oh god, don’t do it.

“Uh…” Shawn checked the time on his phone. “No, I should be fine. I like to be early.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“I have a question.”

FUCK.

“Uhh…” I said stupidly.

“What really made you want to come here for college?” he prompted.

Someone clearly didn’t forget my lack of interest from the other night. Why was this question so important to him?

“Why are you here for college?” I said back.

“I live here. Now you.”

God fuckign-

“Wanted to travel, I guess. I’ve been in one place my whole life.” I shrugged, looking anywhere except him yet again.

“Hm. Okay. What are you listening to?”

“Five sauce.”

“Aren’t you a goth, though?”

I rolled my eyes and made a noise between a scoff and a laugh. “Firstly, Stella calls me that, I don’t. Secondly, you ask a lot of questions.”

“Well, I just wanna get to know you.”

Any normal, naive person would have been swayed by Shawn’s sweet tone and charming smile. I, however, learned that there’s more than what meets the eye. He doesn’t really want to know you, he just wants something. He doesn’t care, he just wants to make you think he does.

I narrowed my eyes. “You need to unlock level forty seven friendship to know anything,” I told him.

“And how far am I?”

“We’ve talked one time before this. You’re not even on level one!”

“Okay, so we’ll hang out sometime so I can make progress.” Shawn’s grin was now very smug. Then he looked to the street. “Oh, right on time.”

The bus just so happened to pull up right about now. My eyes were still narrow and furious, and I was making sure Shawn knew it. How dare he trap me! How dare he ask questions about me! Just say you wanna use me for sex and go!

He was still grinning as he went to the bus entrance. “I’ll let you know when I’m free to hang out. I’ll see you later!”

This motherfu-

[truthofherdreams]

do it for the views (2)

also on ao3

If Lara Jean really, truly is being honest with herself, she enjoys being part of a squad. Content making has been only Kitty and her for so long, starting when they were barely more than teenagers, that Lara Jean never managed to make long-lasting friendships. She was always envious of those Youtube squads, despite the nasty rumours going around about some of them, especially in moment when she was feeling lonely.

She couldn’t live in the mansion with them all, and not just because Gabe eats her cookie dough raw every time he’s around, but she’s come to really love having a tight group of friends. People who help her and support her, people who believe in what she does to the point of promoting her content to their followers too.

Which, of course, means drama comes slapping her in the face when she least expects it.

Peter drags her along to a party, because he claims nobody will believe they’re actually dating if they never show themselves together outside of the vlog house. As far as arguments go, it’s a fairly weak one but Lara Jean is feeling adventurous, and Chris and Lucas promised they would be there too. If anything else, she can beg them to bring her home while Peter is busy partying somewhere else.

He shows up at her house with his flashy car, not the family van he usually drives, so Lara Jean’s suspicions switch on immediately. She waits until they’re on the main before she asks, “She’ll be there tonight, right?”

She doesn’t have to clarify who she is – they’ve kept her name unsaid for months now, but people keep mentioning her in the comments, comparing her to Lara Jean, commenting on how much more relaxed everyone, and especially Chris, is now that she’s gone. She’s like a ghost following them all around the mansion, her presence known but ignored until tonight.

Peter sighs, loudly. “Yeah, she will.”

Lara Jean looks at the car she’s sitting in, at Peter’s hair combed back, at her own outfit. She should have seen this coming, and yet she can’t stop the knot from forming inside her stomach as realisation dawns on her. “Are you trying to make her jealous?”

“What?! How? What? No!” A pregnant pause. “A little?”

He cringes as he says it, which is way cuter than it ought to be. She wants to be upset at him for so very obviously using her like that, but then again. Their entire relationship is based on using each other to get something out of their couple.

“Not jealous in a ‘fight to get me back’ way,” he clarifies. “More ‘look what you gave up on and how much better off I am without you,’ if that makes sense?”

“Are you?” she asks. “Happier?”

“I mean, I get fresh cookies every day so…” His sentence finishes in a bark of laughter when she punches his shoulder as hard as she can. He rubs it with one hand, the other still on the wheel. “Yeah, I am. I loved her but she was… We weren’t good for each other. It wasn’t healthy.”

“Good on you to admit it.”

“Only admitting it after she cheated on me and blamed me for it, so not sure how good it is but you know…” He sighs. “At least Chris isn’t so cranky all the time anymore.”

Lara Jean knows deflection when she hears it, so she takes the bait and starts talking about Chris’ latest videos and how well received her collab with Gabe was. Their conversation gets a little less tense from there, and they even have fun brainstorming ideas for the vlog by the time Peter parks in front of a mansion even bigger than his.

The party is already in full swing, but Peter stops her in the entrance hall, pulling on her hand for her to turn toward him.

“No baking tonight,” he tells her as he reaches for the crunchie holding her hair up into a ponytail. “I like you better with your hair down anyway.”

“Well if you like me better with my hair down…”

“Damn, Covey! Only a few weeks with us and you’re already so full of snark. Definitely not a good influence on you.”

She pokes her tongue out at him, and Peter chuckles even as he runs his fingers through her hair to tame it and make it pretty. He’s so much closer than she’s used to – close enough for her to admire the gold speckles in his eyes and the light freckles on his nose. She wonders how many people get to be so intimate with him, instead of just looking at him through the lens of a camera.

“There. Perfect.”

She doesn’t wonder why her heart beats faster.

“Peter?” she asks, just when he’s taking her hand again, ready to pull her toward the party. He pauses and raises his eyebrows in a silent question. “No PDA rule tonight.”

He grins, and pulls on her hand.

This isn’t so different from any other party she’s attended with Peter. Gabe has already set a beer pong table and is convincing a pair of girls to play against Chris and him. Lucas is flirting with a white boy on the couch. John Ambrose has half a dozen girls around him, giggling at everything he says.

Lara Jean naturally gravitates toward Chris once Peter has disappeared to get them some drinks. Chris hugs her in greeting, before she starts throwing the ping pong ball and catching it with one hand.

“The Wicked Bitch of the West is here,” she says with a nod to the other side of the room. “Hide your man.”

Lara Jean tries not to be too obvious about it when she walks around the table to sit on a couch’s armrest, which gives her a good view of both the game and Gen. She stands in a corner talking to a brunette, all sparkly dress and perfect hair. Lara Jean can’t help but notice her face looks very different in person, though, a tell that she uses a little too much Facetune on her pictures. But then again, which Instagram mode doesn’t?

Gen must feel her stare, for she turns her head and stares right back at Lara Jean, just in time to see Peter sliding next to her. He bumps Lara Jean’s shoulder with an easy grin before he hands her a red solo cup.

“Missed me?”

“Terribly,” she replies with a grin of her own. He was right earlier; she definitely got more sarcastic from spending time with the squad.

She takes a sip of her beer, only to immediately spit it back in the cup with a grimace of disgust. “That beer is stale!”

“Oh no, that’s mine,” he corrects before switching their cups. “It’s kombucha.”

“Why?!”

“It’s good for digestion. And I’m your ride tonight, remember?”

The admission that he’s not drinking takes her by surprise and, let’s be honest, charms her a little. They’ve all been drinking into torpor at least once a week since she joined the squad, either at the vlog house or a local bar. But they would always Uber to the bar and forth, so nobody had to drink. For him to go dry means more than Lara Jean would have believe at first.

“You could at least get something tasty,” she points out.

“Didn’t we establish I have bad taste?” he jokes back.

She wrinkles her nose at him, just to make him laugh. Peter has a great laugh; she loves to hear it, to see the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. It’s such a good look on him.

“Vlog house’s gonna be busy,” Chris announces as she joins them on the couch. She points to Lucas, still heavily flirting with the white guy from before, his hand high on the guy’s thigh. Then to Gabe, deep in conversation with one of the beer pong girls. Then John Ambrose, still surrounded by a small army of girls. Chris makes a face. “Can I crash at yours, LJ?”

“Guest room is yours,” she replies easily.

“What if I want to crash at your place?” Peter pouts, adding puppy eyes for emphasis.

She knows that in all logic he would be sleeping in her bed. They’ve been dating long enough that everyone believes they’re intimate, which makes sense. She’s been watching his older videos, and he and Gen never were shy about the physical aspect of their relationship.

Still, she runs her tongue before she can think better of it. “You can have the couch.”

Peter and Chris offer her equally baffled looks, albeit for very different reasons. Chris whistles under her breath, as if to react to some massive drama just about to happen. If only she knew that, no, it’s just Lara Jean who messed up without meaning to.

“You still made about yesterday?” Peter asks, innocent enough.

Bless his heart for giving her an out, though, bringing back the prank that turned bad yesterday, when he’d tried to scare John Ambrose. John has slipped and fell down the swimming pool, his head missing the edge by only a few inches. Lara Jean’s shriek had been so deafening it had scared them all even more, and then she’d lectured Peter for five minutes straight. Even Gabe had looked guilty after that.

“Depends,” she replies, before she nods toward one girl across the room. “Find me a slice of that pizza and I’ll reconsider.”

His grin is a little dopey as he shoves his solo cup in her hand to stand up. It’s a good thing only Chris sees that happen, because the guys would never let him live it down.

(He was hugging her from behind last week, one arm against her collarbones, as she was standing at the kitchen island to check her emails on her laptop. Whispering nonsense in her ear just to distract her and to make her laugh. She knew at least one of the guys was filming somewhere, and that they might be caught on camera.

But she didn’t expect Gabe to barge into the kitchen, camera in hand, and to open the fridge to grab something. He held a can next to Peter’s head, already chuckling at his own joke.

“Pete, hey, Pete! What’s the difference between you and that can of cream?” Peter only replied with a deadpan stare. “None, cause y’all so WHIPPED!”

And then Gabe ran for his life. Peter whispered a simple “Be right back,” in Lara Jean’s ear, before dashing after his best friend. Ten seconds were all he needed before Gabe’s scream of horror filled the house.)

She follows him with her eyes as he makes his way to the kitchen in search of a fresh, untouched slice of pizza, and so she doesn’t miss how Gen corners him the moment he’s left alone. He’s got one pizza box opened, paper plate in hand, and he looks like a deer in the highlights when he sees his ex by his side.

“You should do something,” Chris comments.

“Nah, he’s fine.”

She trusts him, and not just because of the contract. From the way he was talking in the car, he needs to confront Gen one more time, to do this for himself.

Lucas plops on the couch next to them just when Gen engages Peter in a tense and awkward conversation, and Lara Jean’s attention is redirected toward her friend. It’s not as if she can hear anything that is said from across the room anyway.

“Abandoned pretty boy so soon?” Chris teases him.

Lucas shrugs, before he grabs the solo cup from Lara Jean’s hand. “Turns out he has a boyfriend. Disappointing.” He takes a sniff of his newly-acquired drink and makes a face. “That smells nasty.”

“It’s kombucha,” Lara Jean says. “Fermented tea.”

“Sounds as nasty as it smells,” Lucas replies, still looking down the cup.

“I’ll give you $500 to drink all of it,” Chris chimes in, getting her camera out of the pocket of her hoodie. It’s exactly why she fits in perfectly with the squad, despite being the only girl before Lara Jean arrived. She has the same sick mentality about it.

And truth is – Lara Jean is starting to develop a bit of that mentality too. “Come on, do it,” she goads him with a sweet smile.

He makes a face and sniffs the drink again. “I really need the money,” he comments.

“Lara Jean!” Her head immediately turns at the sound of her name, if only to find Peter standing in front of her. No pizza but a frazzled look on his features. “Let’s get out of there.”

Lucas is looking at them above the rim of the solo cup, half-hopefully about being saved from the situation. Lara Jean is barely aware of Chris teasing him as she stands up and walks toward Peter.

He wraps a solid arm around her waist, pulling her right against his chest. And then he’s kissing her. Hard and fast, too quick for her to react or even think about enjoying it. It’s over before it even started, and then he’s pulling on her hand and dragging her toward the exit.

She follows without question, all too aware of the way he purposely doesn’t look back. Or doesn’t say anything, the silence between them tense and awkward as he drives away from the house and down the empty streets of LA.

She has no idea where they are going, but soon the streets around them are a little less rich suburbia, a little more hipsterish mess, until he parks next to what appears to be an old dinner.

It’s empty – too late for a coffee date, too early for a post-party refuel – and Peter chooses the booth just next to the vintage jukebox. She slides next to him instead of opposite him, and nods at the old machine with a nudge to his shoulder.

“Seven What’s New, Pussycat and one It’s Not Unusual?” she asks innocently.

Peter snorts a laugh despite his lips pressed into a thin line, some of the tension in his shoulders disappearing at her reference. By the time the waitress shows up at their table to take their order, he’s almost back to his usual self again.

Lara Jean doesn’t mention the insta elephant in the room. If he wants to talk about it he will, but she will not force him into a conversation before he’s ready. Instead she decides on another topic altogether.

“Kitty wants to go to film school.”

It’s something she’s been discussing for a little while now. She jumped straight from high school into this job, but she’s yearning for more now, for something else and different. Lara Jean can’t really blame her – her sister is so talented and has so much potential for greatness – but she can’t help but be a little bit selfish about it.

“I can’t do the videos without her,” she admits. “I have never edited anything in my life.”

“You could be outsourcing.”

She shakes her head, an outright refusal. “I don’t trust anyone to do it beside her.”

“Because you haven’t worked with anyone else,” Peter points out. “Hire an intern and have Kitty teach them everything she knows. The exact way she edits your videos. So you start with the same skills, but a new point of view. Can’t be all that bad.”

She nibbles on her bottom lip. She’s never thought about it that way, but it doesn’t sound too bad. And Kitty would love to have someone to boss around, someone to brag to about her skills. And then Lara Jean would have a whole new person on her payroll, which is terrifying. She’s been pushing back getting an assistant for so long because she’s afraid of having someone who is not Kitty rely on her for a paycheck.

“What about once Kitty is done?”

“You, me, Chris, Lucas, Gabe, John,” Peter counts on his fingers. “That’s six Youtubers in our group who could do with some editing help. We’ll manage.”

She can’t help but grin, even before she spell out the underlying meaning behind his idea. “Am I officially part of the Kazinsquad?” she teases.

Peter’s gaze is too deep, too intense, when their eyes meet. It says things she doesn’t want to hear, to acknowledge. “You’re not getting rid of us so easily, Covey. Fake dating or not, you’re part of the family now. You’re here to stay.”

She looks down at her hands in her lap, so her hair will fall in front of her face and hide her blush. She didn’t expect him to be so candid about it, or herself to get so emotional over it. He talks about family like they’ve been friends forever, instead of only a few weeks. Like he will stick by her side even once the contract is over. She doesn’t quite know what to think of it.

Thankfully the waitress chooses that moment to come back with their orders, and Lara Jean distracts herself with her pile of pancakes long enough to forget about her own awkwardness.

Once she’s ready to face Peter again, his phone is lighting up like a Christmas tree when it lays on the table. He sighs, deep and loud, and flips the phone over to hide the screen.

“She’s blowing up my notifications.”

“I guess it wasn’t a clean goodbye then?” He only gives her A Look, with capital letters and a trademark. “You could block her.”

Peter’s laugh is humourless. “Yeah, I’m not doing that. It’s going to end in a five-minute rant in her Insta stories about how much of an asshole I am to her. Again. I’m done with this shit.”

Lara Jean offers him a tight-lipped smile, her hand finding his under the table. Their fingers link together as Peter raises both their hands above the table to lie there between them. The ring Margot gave her for her birthday shines softly in the neon lights of the dinner. Lara Jean makes up her mind faster than she would have expected of herself, given the circumstances.

“Open Instagram,” she tells him. When Peter only reacts with a confused look, she adds, “We’ll give her a taste of her own medicine.”

Which is petty and low, maybe, but Lara Jean is tired of it. Tired of Peter’s kicked puppy look and the hold Gen still has on him. Tired of this fake dating business working on everyone else but her, tired, and tired and tired.

So she snaps a picture of her own, of their hands, with Peter’s milkshake in the background. It takes a few flirters to make it look nice despite the aggressive lights, and then she posts it to her stories, no tag, no comments. Just the simplicity of an intimate moment caught on camera, a snapshot of a cute late-night date.

Peter is smiling now, finally catching up with her act. He raises his own phone to snap a selfie, the cutest thing ever – their shoulders pressed against each other as she kisses his cheek and he makes a proud-yet-amused face to the camera. It looks so incredibly realistic that it takes Lara Jean’s breath away, just a little.

That is, until she reads the caption he’s writing down. “‘Bae’? You’re such a dork!”

He blows a kiss her way, before bursting into laughter.

…

Peter becomes a fixture in her life soon enough.

Even if the contract only stipulates one vlog appearance per week, Lara Jean finds herself at the vlog house on most filming days, if only because it’s fun. She doesn’t always participate in the more elaborate jokes and pranks, but she likes to witness it all happen in front of her eyes. The difference between real life and what actually makes it to the vlog fascinates her more than she can put into words.

Any other day, she works on her own channel, testing and prepping recipes when she not actually filming, workshopping new ideas with Kitty, talking brand deals and sponsor agreements with Trina. It’s long, hard work, always has been. But she loves it, loves to spend most of her time in the kitchen to experiment on new recipes to make them perfect, to try stuff she finds on Pinterest, or just to improve some of her classics.

Peter has an habit of showing up to her house when she’s working now. He doesn’t really bother her in the kitchen – always first in line to taste anything, though – and for the most part he’s happy just chilling and editing in a corner, or napping in her living room. She’s gotten used to his mop of curly hair popping from the side of the sofa, or his long legs stretching in front of him when he sits on the kitchen floor. More than one time he ends up with flour in his hair, too busy working on his vlog to notice. Those make for amazing Insta stories.

It is one such day, Kitty sitting on the kitchen island to edit, Peter napping in another room, and Lara Jean practicing a mirror cake for a Halloween recipe. Those are far from her favourite, but they’re damn clickbaity and popular on the internet. Everything for the views, or something.

“I’m just saying, Gabe is totally down to take care of it when we go to Korea.”

It’s an old argument – Kitty has wanted a puppy since she was about six. Arguments against were fairly easy when they were still living in the family house, what with both dad and Margot allergic to dogs. But times has past and they have their own house now, in a whole different state. It’s getting harder and harder to find arguments against having a dog, to the point where Lara Jean doesn’t even know why she still fight her sister about it. Good habits, and all that.

“Gabe? Gabe Rivera? The guy who can’t even remember to feed himself most days? That Gabe?”

“You’re so mean!” Kitty grabs a chocolate chip and throws it at her, but Lara Jean dodges easily. “And okay, maybe not Gabe. But we can afford to put it in a puppy hotel now. I heard they have some great ones in Downtown LA. Come on, Lara Jean!”

Kitty gives her the face, with the teary eyes and pouty lip. It used to work as a child, and Kitty knows it. As a twenty-something girl, though, it has lost some of its childish charm and is not as effective as it used to be.

“What is she saying no to?” Peter asks as he slides his way into the kitchen.

His hair is all over the place and his eyes still heavy with sleep, which is a very powerful combo. Lara Jean’s heart does a weird flip-floppy thing, before it stops beating altogether as Peter comes behind her to wrap his arms around her waist and hide his face in her neck. She swears he presses a kiss against her skin there, but it might as well be her mind make things up – hard to know, when she’s forgotten how to breath.

“She doesn’t want me to get a puppy,” Kitty replies immediately, all awkwardness ignored in the face of getting what she wants. “Which isn’t fair at all!”

Peter looks at Kitty from above Lara Jean’s shoulder, refusing to let got of her. He’s warm and solid against her back, so she leans herself lean into him, just a little bit. Might as well take advantage of a human pillow while she can; she’s spent hours on her feet today, she deserves it.

“What kind of a dog?”

“A Japanese Akita!”

“It’s like, a big Shiba,” Lara Jean adds for clarity.

She doesn’t need to look at Peter to literally hear the wheels turning in his head. He doesn’t stand up straighter or anything, doesn’t even really show interest in that little fact but. She knows how he’s wired. She can even read the clickbait vlog title from there.

SURPRISING MY GIRLFRIEND’S SISTER WITH A SHIBA PUPPY!!

Two million views in the first week, and the very least. A bit more if he picks the right thumbnail or if Kitty starts crying. Which might actually happen, because she’s wanted a puppy for so long, has begged for it for most of her life. And, yes, her baby sister deserves something nice, a little companion to follow her everywhere and all adorably distract her from editing videos until 4am every night. She deserves the world, really.

Peter keeps trading questions and answers with Kitty, obviously to gather more information – would she like a girl puppy or a boy puppy, does she have an idea for a name, which cool tricks she would teach it. Kitty answers happily, glad that someone is actually interested in her puppy story for once.

She does have a weird look on her face when Lara Jean feeds Peter a big chocolate chip, though, and he hums happily before snuggling a little tighter against her. At least her cake is in the oven for half an hour, so he doesn’t distract her from delicate piping work or something of the like.

He does distract her a lot in general, though.

It’s another hour before he decides to go back to his own place – no doubt to look up Shiba breeders in California. Kitty follows him to the door and waves her goodbye at him while Lara Jean finishes cleaning up the kitchen.

When Kitty comes back, it’s with her phone in her hand, already dialing Margot. It’s the middle of the night in London, but who even cares when your name is Catherine Song-Covey.

“Kitty, what the hell?” comes Margot’s sleepy voice.

“Lara Jean’s fake boyfriend wants to be her real boyfriend.”

Suddenly, Margot is awake.

Suddenly, Lara Jean wants to die.

…

Of all the people in the house, John Ambrose is the one Lara Jean spends the less time with. Which might not be fair on him, since he’s always so nice and gentle in everything he does and say, since he’s welcomed her without second thought when she first joined the group, since he’s one of the best people she knows.

But every time she looks at him, she remembers Vidcon, and being drunk and kissing him just because. Lara Jean knows, on an intellectual level, that it’s okay. People kiss other people all the time at parties, and that’s the end of it. But it’s not who she is, and she feels uncomfortable with herself every time John Ambrose is around, the the point of almost avoiding him sometimes.

Which makes him coming to her in the vlog house’s kitchen all the more awkward.

“Hey, I’ve got something for you,” he tells her.

Chris is teaching her how to play Horizon: Zero Dawn today, and Lara Jean took a break to fix them twin bowls of ice cream, with extra chocolate sauce and whipped cream. She’s in the middle of adding sprinkles – god knows why they have that in the kitchen – and thus startles a little at John Ambrose’s surprise appearance.

She closes the tube of sprinkles and turns around, one hand rising to tug a strand of hair behind her ear. “Really?”

He hands out what appears to be a book at first look, but is so much more when she takes it between her hands. It’s an ancient notebook, with a hard cover and pages yellowed by time, so fragile-looking she’s careful when she opens it. Each page is a recipe written by hand in beautiful cursive letters, or cut from a book and taped to a page. From the illustrations alone, it looks at least from the 60s, if not older.

“I told my grandma about you. Her name is Stormy and she’s the most badass person I know. She loves to hear about the gang, and she wanted to know more about you so I showed her some of your videos. I didn’t even know she even cared about cooking before she gave that to me. She said you could put it to good use.”

“Oh my god, it’s amazing.”

Recipes upon recipes of things to put in jello, and old-timey cakes, questionable casseroles and salads. Better than anything she could find on Pinterest, or even Mary Berry’s recent cookbooks. That’s the real stuff, coming at her from a different time, where cooking was a woman’s duty first instead of a little pleasure in life.

A simple hot milk sponge cake catches her eye, and it’s enough to get her mind running. She’s already coming up with so many ideas, and decorated settings for her kitchen, and recipes to try. It’s overwhelming.

“Do you want to collab?” she asks John Ambrose before she can second-guess herself. “I’d really like to meet her, and maybe try a recipe together? We could even play dress up, it could be fun.”

John Ambrose’s mouth stays opened for a few seconds, caught off-guard by her proposition. But then he’s shaking his head a bit and smiling, a little laugh at the corner of his lips. “Sure, why not? Could be fun.”

“Thought we had something, Covey?”

She turns her head to find Peter at the kitchen’s entrance. His eyes are unreadable as they move from her to John Ambrose, to the book in her hands, to her face again. It’s not cold or closed-off, which would be easier to deal with. No, he’s putting on a front, but she can see he’s hurt. Jealous, even.

So she smiles at him, to reassure him. Placate him even, just a little. “We’ll always have fruitcake cookies.”

When he smiles, it doesn’t reach his eyes.

…

Christmas creeps up around the corner before Lara Jean is ready for it. It goes the same way every year – all three Song girls fly back to spend Christmas with dad, baking more cookies than they can eat and opening their gifts by the tree with hot cups of cocoa on the coffee table. Dad will try (and mostly fail) to cook some Korean meals their mother loved so much, and everyone will pretend not to be sad at the seat that has been empty for longer than not.

This year, though, something different happens. Not with the whole Christmas thing, no, that never changes. But once Lara Jean and Kitty are back to LA, Chris comes over and tells them to pack their things and be ready in an hour, tops. She won’t give them anymore details, so Lara Jean texts Lucas to spills the beans.

“Gabe’s parents own a cabin near Alta Sierra,” she reads out loud to Kitty. “We’re spending New Year’s Eve there.”

“Are you kidding?” Her sister turns around from her wardrobe, a handful of puppy in her hands – yes, a Christmas gift from Peter, surprise, surprise – and a look of wonder on her face. “I’ve always wanted a white New Year!”

“Well, pack warm sweaters, it’s going to be rustic,” Lara Jean comments as Lucas sends her a couple of pictures of said cabins. “And wool socks.”

“Are you going to be kissing Peter at midnight?”

“I want you ready in 20 minutes,” she goes on as she moves to her own bedroom.

Truth is, she doesn’t have that many warm clothes. LA doesn’t require that kind of a wardrobe, especially with the AC they have going on in the house. But Lara Jean manages to dig a few sweaters from the back of her wardrobe, as well as warm leggins she usually wears under dresses when she visits her family in Korean. She even finds a cute hat and matching mittens, and her Hufflepuff scarf from when they went to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter.

Exactly one hour later, cars are honking in front of their house. Two of them, the gang split between the vehicles, with Chris behind a wheel and Peter behind the other. He jumps out of his van and helps them carry their bags and puppy supplies.

“I’ll go with Chris,” Lara Jean says, hoping her voice doesn’t shows that she’s still peeved by Kitty’s comment from earlier. If the look Peter gives her is anything to go by, she failed miserably. Not that she lets herself think about it too much, climbing inside the car while Kitty walks toward Peter’s van.

Lucas looks at her through the rearview mirror, one eyebrow raised, but doesn’t say anything. Neither does Chris, once she’s slammed the trunk closed and is back behind the wheel, now blasting a playlist through the speakers.

“Alta Sierra, here we come!”

It takes them four hours to drive to the cabin, and then some for everyone to unload, unpack and unwind. Chris won’t stop complaining about the crick in her neck from driving too long, so much so that she doesn’t even comment or complain at Lara Jean bunking with her in one of the many bedrooms.

Gabe starts a fire in the living room and convinces Kitty to help him make S’Mores, and soon they are all gathered there, sitting straight on the floor with sticky fingers and easy laughs. Everyone but Peter, Lara Jean can’t help but notice, who’s disappeared the moment he parks the car in front of the cabin.

Lucas must notice her look of confusion, because he nudges her with his elbow and nods for her to follow him. She does, silent until they lock themselves in a bedroom, sitting side by side on the bed. They don’t say anything, not for a very long while, but then she starts speaking and finds that she is unable to stop. She tells him about the contract and the fake relationship, about Gen and the party, about Peter’s lack of boundaries, his weird behaviour these past few weeks, and how confused this all is and how lost she feels.

“Wait, you guys have been faking it all this time?” Lucas asks, dumbfounded. When she only nods, looking down at her hand, he lets out a little laugh. “Yeah, no.”

She looks up at him. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve been in the gang for five years now, LJ. I’ve seen some shit happening, and Peter isn’t as good an actor as he thinks he is. Sometimes it’s better that he is behind the camera, actually. So let me tell you, this? This ain’t acting.”

“You can’t know that.” She bites on her bottom lip, before she adds, “If anything else, I’m the one pining like an idiot.”

“Oh, believe me, I can. Because let me resume. You came up with the no PDA rule. You asked John to do something that was entirely Peter-and-you until now. You decided not to drive with him, and not to keep your little collabs exclusive and you very much aren’t the one mopping in a corner right now. So if anyone is pining like an idiot, it’s not you. It’s Kavinsky.”

She opens her mouth, but no word comes out at first. And then, “He’s really mopping in a corner?”

Lucas only nods.

…

She finds him in the hot tube, just outside the cabin. He is indeed mopping, like Lucas said, looking down with a frown and looking all around miserable. His head shoots up when she says a little ‘hey’ but he doesn’t reply, instead silently following her with his eyes as she makes her way around the hot tube to climb the few steps and sit on the edge.

The contrast of the cold of winter against her skin with the warmth of the water is a weird one, but it doesn’t compared to his heated eyes when they find hers across the water. He swallows, and she sighs. It is harder than she would have believe, for something so simple. Tell your fake boyfriend you like him. Tell him you’ve been stupid, your insecurities have been playing tricks on you, you’re so terrified of making it real. Tell him you don’t remember who you were before him, and you don’t want to go back to being this person. Tell him he matters so much, you can’t even put it into words.

When he still refuses to talk, she asks, “Now you’re ignoring me?”

“Oh I’m the one ignoring you?” he replies with a bitter smile and a snort of humourless laughter. “Funny.”

“Shouldn’t we be easing out of this relationship, since the contract is over anyway?”

Which, all things considered, is the worst thing to say. Peter knows it too, if the look he sends her, halfway between hurt and offended, is anything to go by. And then he’s laughing again, under his breath, and looking down again. Ignoring her. Dismissing her.

She has none of it. Because if those past few months taught her anything, it’s to be braver than she feels, to get out of her comfort zone, to push herself. So she shrugs off her coat, lets it falls on the ground, before she slips her legs inside the hot tube and softly falls in. Peter looks back at her, confused frown on his brows.

“What are you doing?”

“Coming in.”

“In your pyjamas,” he points out, glancing down at the Hello Kitty combo she’s wearing.

She shrugs a little, even as she moves closer to him until she can put her hands on his knees. “I didn’t bring a swimsuit,” she explains. He’s close enough that she can see the red high on his cheeks, can focus on the way he bites down on his bottom lip as his eyes travel down her body, to the light fabric now sticking to her skin.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, so low she’s afraid he might not hear it.

But he does, of course, leaning forward until his face is only a breath away from hers. “What for?”

“Being scared. Of this. Of us.” She looks away, can’t deal with the intensity of his gaze. “I’m not good at letting people in. It’s not easy for me.”

“You’re doing great so far,” he replies, his voice lighter already, almost smiling. “You suck, though. I’d bought so many snacks for the drive here, even those Japanese drinks you like so much and like, five different types of Pocky. Which means…”

“You like Asian snacks?”

He shakes his head with a chuckle, and splashes some water her way. “Why are you so dense, oh my god.”

She isn’t, of course. So she uses his knees to rise up a little, to lean closer to him. “I’m sorry I’ve been acting stupid lately,” she whispers.

“That’s alright,” he replies in an equally low voice.

And then he finally takes it all in, her body so close to his, her clothes like a second skin, the tension between them like an elastic ready to snap. He notices it all, his eyes darkening even as he offers her a smile, and a tiny shrug, even as he softens in front of her.

“The contract was only until Christmas,” she reminds him.

“I’m aware,” he replies.

His smile is taking over his entire face now, the meaning behind the statement obvious to the both of them – they no longer have to pretend anything. They’re doing this not because they have to, but because they want to. Nothing to bind them professionally, nobody to check in the fine print. Just two people, in front of each other, wearing their feelings on their sleeve.

Peter’s hand grab her thigh in the water as he grins at her, a simple “There’s no one like you, Covey,” on his lip as he hauls her up to sit in his lap. And then he’s kissing her. Or maybe she’s kissing her. Or maybe it doesn’t matter, when all she can focus on is the softness of his lips against hers, the warm of his tongue, the strength of his arms around her. He presses her against his chest, and she loses herself in their kiss, forgets about anything that isn’t Peter and Peter’s mouth and Peter’s love for her.

She breaks away when it becomes too much, only to swoon at the sight of him – lips swollen and eyes pitch black, his hair sticking in every direction, his cheeks burning. He’s so beautiful it takes her breath away, and she has to kiss him again. And again. And again, until he’s giggling against her lips and it makes it all messy.

“Hey, Covey,” he asks, forehead against hers, hand in her hair. “I’ve got a collab idea.”

She laughs, soft, fond. “Let’s make it a series of videos.”

“An ongoing partnership.”

“A second channel.”

“Shut up and kiss me again.”

She does.

[like-a-bag-of-potatoes]

Finding Our Way

A/N: Repost of an old fic. I’m actually really proud of this concidering I had only been writing a couple of months when I wrote this. Feedback is highly appreciated y’all!

Warnings: Death, some angst and some fluff.

Characters:  Dean, Reader, Sam (kind of)

Wordcount: 2726

The rain is pouring down as I stand in the middle of the almost empty field. My black dress is soaked, my heels are digging into the wet ground, and I’m uselessly trying to brush a few wet hairs away from my face. Cold, shivering, I wrap my arms around me as I look up to the dark sky. I don’t know how long I’ve been standing here, but it’s certainly been a while. My eyes are fixed at what’s left of the fire that was burning so vigorously just a while ago; now in the pile of ash, I can barely see some specks of orange between the gray. Tears are forming in the crook of my eyes again as I take in the sight before me. How can it be that a man who was full of life a mere twenty four hours ago is now reduced to a pile of cold, wet ash.

The hunter’s funeral serves a purpose, I know that, but now the smoldering pyre seems barbaric, now that it’s Sam we’re burning. Sam Winchester, the man of my dreams, the man that I fell so hopelessly in love with, the man that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Sam Winchester, friend, boyfriend, son and brother. Gone. Dead.

I can feel the strength leaving my body, my knees coming dangerously near to giving out, when the feeling of a blanket being wrapped around my shoulders startles me, but the familiar touch of strong hands gripping me makes the fear fade away. I turn to look into the green eyes of my best friend, Dean; I’ve seen his face so often I could locate every freckle, despite the dark. I’ve known Dean since I was nineteen, when our fathers met up for a hunt, and we’ve been close as brother and sister since.. He looks as exhausted as I feel, reminding  me that however much it hurts me to lose my boyfriend, it’s twice as hard on him, losing  his baby brother. And yet, he takes a step to the side and reveals a picnic blanket and cooler,  likely filled with beer, that he brought, taking my hand and guiding me towards it. The rain has stopped completely, and as we sit down, I can  see some stars peeking between the clearing clouds. Dean offers me a beer and even though drowning my sorrows is tempting at the moment I choose not to. I pull the blanket he gave me tighter around my body, drawing my knees to my chest to rest my chin on them. We don’t speak, choosing instead to sit in silence, watching the clouds slowly disappear as more stars comes to view.

I glance over to the remnants of the fire, and I am powerless to keep my body from shaking, tears falling once again. It only gets worse as Dean wraps his arm around me and pulls me close, guilt clenching at my heart. I should be the one comforting him, after the loss of his brother. The bond between Sam and Dean couldn’t be explained: it had to be experienced.  I can’t even begin to imagine what he is feeling right now, and still here he is, comforting me. Dean never puts himself first; there is nothing that he wouldn’t do for the people he loves. But he is going to have a hard time finding his way after this - the memory of him after John died is still clear. So, of course, it’ll come down to me to watch out for him, as he does for me. I pull away from him slightly and stretch out my arm so that he can join me under the blanket; he pauses for a moment, ever wary of affection, or care for his own well-being, but then he slides closer, pulling the blanket around both our shoulders. The sky is completely clear now and I can see the millions of stars that are blinking down on us. It’s beautiful, a night Sam would’ve loved: just the two people closest to him, the silence of the plain, and the eternity of stars shining overhead. The only thing missing is him.

“I’m sorry” I murmur, without looking at Dean, eyes too blurry and wet too focus. I hear him breathing deeply before he responds, swallowing his own tears.

“I know, sweetheart,” he finally says, sliding his hand into mine and squeezing “Looks like it’s just me and you now.”

“Yeah,” I respond weakly before burrowing my face into his shoulder, no longer able to repress the sobs shaking my chest. Dean pulls the blanket tighter around us and settles his face in my hair. I feel his own quiet tears kissing at my scalp even after I stop crying.

“Just you and me.”



2 months:

I throw myself down on one of the beds in the shabby motel room, more grateful than I should be for the grungy comfort of the mattress. We have been hunting non stop for the past two months, half of which I’ve spent swallowing my own sadness and fear and convincing Dean to take a day or two off. After John died, Dean spent every day restoring Baby after the truck accident and every night indulging in whiskey and women. Now, however, it’s work, all day, every day. I like to think he’s changed tactics because I’m with him, and I suppose it’s better than STD’s and a defunct liver; but right now, I, for one, need a moment to breathe.

“Hey, it’s only for a day or two, just a breather,” I say cautiously as I watch him anxiously bounce his knee, desperate for movement, for some distraction. A part of me feels the same way - the part that keeps me from curling up into a ball of depression - but we are still only human. How proud Sam would be - instead of watching out for his brother, I let him run himself into the ground. The memory of Sam still makes my chest tighten, so I pull my favourite book out of my duffle, hoping that it will be distraction enough for tonight.

“I need to get some air” Dean  says abruptly and stands from his chair “Do you need anything?” He briefly meets my gaze, a rarity these days; I shake my head, and a second later he closes the door behind him, leaving me completely alone.

The week after Sam’s funeral, we caught the demon who killed him. Dean took great pleasure in torturing him, listening to the thing curse, then beg for mercy, and finally for death before he ended its life. I will never forget the look in his eyes while he carved into the demon, a look of rage that I wouldn’t think possible from this sweet, selfless man; but the way Dean looked at me after the deed was done frightened me the most. The green in his gentle eyes  had been replaced by a dark brown, almost black. His spark was gone, whatever made Dean the brother I loved was gone, replaced by something as sinister as what had killed Sam. Perhaps it was the terror in my eyes or his own self-relfection, but since that day, he has barely looked at me, talking to me only when necessary - God forbid we discuss what happened, in typical Winchester fashion. I suppose he is out blowing off some steam, but to my surprise he comes back only half an hour later with a pizza and some beers.

“I brought us some food” he says with a tentative smile before laying the spread  on the table “I even ordered it with pineapple” he adds proudly. I can’t help smiling back - he knows I love pineapple on my pizza, and I know he hates them with a passion. I make my way over to join him at the table, half-pleased, half-worried about this change in his behaviour.

“Pineapple huh?”

“Mhm..” he mumbles with a mouthful of pizza, and gestures for me to dig in..

Half an hour later, I open another bottle of beer after clearing away the empty pizza box, mildly impressed that two people devoured an entire large pizza. The mood has lightened somewhat, but I’m still scared to talk to him, afraid I’m gonna say the wrong thing.

Dean suddenly takes a deep breath, as if about to dive off the deep end.“I’m sorry that I’ve been working us so hard lately,” he says, watching me as I slowly sit back down across from him and take a long pull on my beer.

“You know, I don’t mind hunting, Dean, but…it’s the tension between us that wears me out, how we can’t even talk to each other about…I mean, after…you know…” I’m unable to stop the words from spilling, and I silently curse myself. He digests my words for a while before he answers.

“I know. And I’m sorry about that, too.” He takes a deep breath and leans forward in his chair. “I know I’ve been kind of a dick to you, but ever since… since Sam died and the demon…I’ve been trying to figure out how to be around you.” I must look confused by his words, because he bites his lip and thinks for a moment before continuing. “I mean…I know that you need me, I promised Sam that…and we need each other, but I don’t…I don’t know how to be there for you, to help you heal, when I’m such a mess myself. Especially after you saw me doing what I did to that demon.” I can see a shimmer of tears in his eyes. He shakes his head a little and grits his teeth, trying to keep the tears at bay. In all the years I’ve known Dean, this is a side I’ve never seen before. I would’ve sworn he’d die before allowing anyone to see him this vulnerable.

“I don’t judge you for what you did to that demon, Dean, even though it scared me. But it was what happened afterwards that frightened me. You just closed yourself off from me, you shut me out.” I try my best not to let my frustration show, I need him to know that he hurt me, but I also need him to know that I forgive him. “I just need my friend back,” escapes my lips, as I swallow hard on the lump that’s forming in my throat. “I feel like you’re pulling away from me, and I have no idea how to bring you back.”

“I’m sorry” he says, “I really am.” I can see the remorse in his eyes and I know then that he truly is sorry. For a while we sit in silence.

“I’m gonna get ready for bed,” I say, once my voice is steady, and I get up and head for the bathroom.

“Come here” he says, softly  and I turn around to see him standing with his arms stretched towards me, more open than he’s been since the funeral. I don’t even think about it before I’m walking over and wrapping my arms around his waist. We stand there, just doing our best to hold the other together for a long time.

“I know we still have a long way to go, but I…I think we’ll be okay,” I say as I look up at him. He nods back, still a little tentative, but something’s shifted.



8 months:

“You broke a guy’s nose?” Dean almost cries from laughter

“He grabbed my ass!” I respond defensively, even though I’m laughing with him.

“I’m not even surprised” he says smirking, as he throws me an icepack from the medical kit in my duffle bag.

We have our ups and downs, but we’re slowly finding our way back to some kind of normalcy. Dean is acting a bit more like his old self, he laughs moore, he teases me at times, and I even saw him flirting with a bartender a few nights ago. He wouldn’t admit it though. He doesn’t even argue with me when I suggest we take a few days off anymore. I feel more like myself these days too.  I think about Sam every day. For a while I was afraid that I would forget something about him if I didn’t, now it’s more to remind myself that I will always remember him.

I remember that when the sun hit his hazel eyes it revealed a hint of green in them, I remember the dimples forming in his cheeks when he threw me one of his boyish grins and I remember the sound of his laughter. I miss him like crazy, but I’m finally able to focus more on the happy memories and not just on the pain of losing him. For a while, I felt guilty every time I smiled or laughed, as if I wasn’t allowed to be happy without him, but I don’t anymore. We are not healed yet, I don’t think we will ever heal completely, but it’s getting better.

It’s moments like these that helps us, when it’s just the two of us goofing around, no evil chasing us. Just us, getting back to being ourselves.

“So, what do you want to do tomorrow?” he asks me as he leans back on his bed.

“I don’t know. Something fun!” I smile at him.

“Wow you’re specific..” he scoffs, rolling his eyes at me.

I teasingly bat my eyelashes. “I know right! What do you want to do?”

“Well, there’s this small lake not far from here, I read in a brochure that it’s a nice place for fishing”

“I say fun and you think fishing?” I chuckle.

“Yep” he answers confidently.

“Fine, Winchester. If we can go swimming afterwards, I’m in”

“Deal.”

We decided to bring a tent to the lake, agreeing that we would spend the night if we liked it up there. It’s certainly gorgeous - the sun is up and the water is completely still. There are a few people in boats and a few more swimming, but we managed to find a secluded area to pitch our tent. I dig a book out of my bag and lean back against a tree, smiling to myself as I watch Dean throwing the line into the water. We stay like this for hours until I realize how much time has gone by  - the sun was about to set for the evening. I grab the extra chair that we brought and make my way over to Dean, setting it up by his side.

“I think it’s too late for swimming” he says with a little snort as he turns to look at me. I feign a little annoyance, but honestly, I’m just so happy to see that  spark in his eyes slowly returning that I don’t mind about the swimming at all. Every day that goes by, I can see more and more of my old friend in him.

“I guess you’re right,” I nod “Do you want to head back to the motel or  spend the night up here?”

“If you want to, we can stay.”

“Only if you want to,” I tease back.

This place is so peaceful and quiet and so much what Sam would’ve loved that I can’t help feeling a little sad..There is always going to be a part of me that’s missing; I suspect it’s the same for Dean. We will carry Sam with us for the rest of our lives, and I’m slowly getting used to the fact that there are always going to be things that remind me of him, things I wish he could be a part of. I lean my head on Dean’s shoulder and let out a long sigh. Despite the sorrow, I know as long as I have him by my side, there is nothing in this world that can break me, break us. Dean packs away his fishing rod and gently drapes his arm around my shoulders. We sit again in silence and watch the last rays of the sun paint the sky. The rays melt away and the stars begin to appear, and for the first time, the thought of Sam being near does not bring tears, but rather a smile.

Everything SPN

@docharleythegeekqueen @deansgirl215 @feelmyroarrrr @emoryhemsworth @essie1876 @sleepylunarwolf @angelsandwinchesters @roxyspearing @dustycelt @captainradicalpassion @grace-for-sale @fandomsstolemylife00 @laurenisnot @mrswhozeewhatsis @superapplepie @mogaruke @girl-next-door-writes @luckyfriess @duckieburns @melonshino @dslocum89 @sea040561 @smoothdogsgirl @megasimpleplan4ever @supernatural-strangerthings-1980 @itseverythingilike @riversong-sam @x-waywardaf-x @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @thereisnolumos @just-another-busy-fangirl @mamaredd123 @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou @iliketowrite02 @nanie5 @wwecrazed2010 @its-not-a-show-its-a-lifestyle @obsessivecompulsivespn @impalaradio @organicapple022 @heyitscam99 @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @azlinh @mystrie

Jensen/Dean:

@its-not-a-tulpa @mizzzpink @jayankles @torn-and-frayed @whimsicalrobots @luckyfriess @sandlee44 @viviandarkbloom06 @imaginesofdreams @mayasmedberg   @iwriteaboutdean @wingedcatninja @capsheadquarters @trunk-full-of-ideas @lavieenlex @angelsandwinchesters @applepielyf

[sicklyscribe]

‘sickly’scribe update because I want something more long-form than twitter

I’m putting this in a tag (which’ll spoil the punchline for those of y’all who don’t follow my twitter!), because everyone keeps telling me community is a good thing even though the concept of there being a community at all is not something I can wrap my brain around. If you’re part of that, hey there, my story below.

I really wanted to use this week for writing. I wanted to use it on fic, on short story projects, poetry projects, novel projects. I knew I wouldn’t be able to do everything, knew that I would let myself down sometimes. 

I really wanted to write an article tonight, to blow off steam, and I got a few hundred words in before the fog absolutely descended. 

I have a word for it now! The thing that nearly forced me to drop out of college a second time? that prevented me from finishing the theses I loved in the way that they deserved? 

The thing that absolutely paralyzed me in seventh grade as I was staring at a pile of books on Joan of Arc at 1AM, knowing I had to write two more flash cards for my research project and feeling as though my brain was smoldering ashes as soon as I attempted a thought. 

I have a new diagnosis for my pain! It also comes with a neurological component that effects focus. And task initiation/completion. And memory. And energy. 

I thought I was just a scatterbrained ditz who couldn’t respect other people’s time or manage my own. Now that I know it’s a symptom, it doesn’t necessarily make it any better. 

I’m jumping ahead because I already broke all of the news and the story on twitter. I don’t want it to just be there, I want it to be here under my amy-rants-about-her-medical-experiences tag, which, if you have ever encountered it, operated under the belief that my constant pain was a result of flat feet. I have reamed out paragraph after paragraph about what the search for that diagnosis did to me.

It took a decade of my life to get that diagnosis. I sobbed and fretted and begged and developed serious psychological issues with the way I viewed myself and others that I don’t think I can ever recover from in order to get. that. diagnosis. 

It felt so fucking good to have that diagnosis, it didn’t even matter much to me that the treatment itself barely helped. I had two words that meant my pain was real, I had a label that people could understand and could try to help me with. 

That got knocked over like a buncha bowling pins a few months ago. Overcoming mountains of anxiety over seeing my doctor for a tingling in my toes, and then being referred to a podiatrist -- even more anxiety, Everest anxiety -- they took x-rays of my feet and the man walked in and said ‘everything looks great! I don’t know who gave you this flat feet diagnosis, but...’ 

We proceeded to talk about the tingling, and the possible causes, and finally I was able to explain that I was diagnosed with flexible flat feet. I stood up and showed him. 

He agreed with that diagnosis, but his manner didn’t really change. As he was explaining why I didn’t have serious flat feet (which I already knew) I was able to clarify. “So you’re saying that the level of pain I experience cannot be explained by this diagnosis?” 

“No, I don’t think it can.” 

While I did have flexible flat feet, I was doing everything (other than exercise) to treat the condition, and there was no reason why I should be in constant widespread pain. He recommended that if I wanted to try other avenues of treatment that I see a rheumatologist or endocrinologist. 

Rheumatologist was first. 

This was a fucking trip, you guys. I didn’t even know if I trusted the foot doctor with the confident smile and the earnest evaluation. I’d had a foot doctor with a confident smile and an earnest evaluation before, and I didn’t know who was wrong. Now he was telling me to go see other people if I wanted answers. 

I’d had my answer taken from me, or at least thrown into doubt, and it felt like hell. I can’t explain to you how awful those weeks were, doubting. I didn’t have effective treatment in my entire life with this pain, but I’d finally gotten a diagnosis when I was twelve and it was my only fucking solace. 

Drowning again. Went to the rheumatologist. 

She presses a few places along my legs, my arms, my neck, my face. My side. “Does this hurt?” she’d ask, the answer always yes. 

Guys, she starts asking me questions. She knew from my file that I had depression, so that box was already ticked. Then came 

“gastrointestinal complications?” “Yes, these two in specific.” 

and “trouble sleeping?” “yes, for as long as I can remember.” 

“can you tolerate exercise?” “tolerate is a good word for it.”

“do you experience full-body aches and pains regularly?” This one caught me off guard. “Yes.” No doctor had ever really took particular note that when I came in with allergies or a cold my answer to “aches and pains?” was always “can’t tell if they’re more than usual?” so I’d figured it was something that I could explain away. I explained it away for her. 

“But I never exercise, don’t sleep well, you know.” “Not exercising shouldn’t cause you to be in pain all the time.” 

Oh. I thought. When you say it like that. 

I sat there in that plastic chair and took in for the first time that the pain in the upper half of my body was way worse than I let myself acknowledge. Almost as bad as the pain in my legs. And for the most part, very similar in flavors. I hated it. I hated realizing that. I didn’t want to realize that. I didn’t want to give those aches the time of day.

The questions continued. “Do you have trouble concentrating or with short-term memory?” 

At this point I was anxious, a little bit uncomfortable, and very very curious as to why this woman was reading off a list of everything I hated about myself when all she had on her records was ‘depressed, flat feet’. “Yes. Constantly.”

I’m a poster child for Fibromyalgia, and I always have been. It’s possible, she said, that I really did have ‘growing pains’ as a child that were so bad that they triggered fibro, which is a condition that typically has a triggering physical or mental trauma. I still don’t know if I believe her. I still have ‘growing pains’ today, and they’re still exactly the same. Haven’t grown an inch in years. 

She had to do some tests to rule other things out, to officially give me a diagnosis of exclusion, but it all came back negative, as she expected. We had a whole talk about all of the myriad things that people do to treat it. The medications for it would all interfere with my antidepressant, which is currently pulling triple its weight by also treating my two gastro diseases. And all of them had side effects that added to the neurological impairment. 

The neurological impairment is called ‘Fibro Fog’, which I had no idea existed and no one I knew did either. But it’s the worst fucking part of being in this body at the moment -- doesn’t matter that my entire digestive system is a minefield, that my muscles and bones are constantly screaming -- it’s the mental parts that I can’t bear. The depression is being treated and it is well under control -- but there’s no direct treatment for the fog. And the fog, I’m just now realizing, is the reason why even in this new era of my life with depression under control and relationships healthier than ever -- that I can’t write like I need to. Or do any other creative or active thing for myself. 

The absolute weirdest thing about all of this is the fact that it is known. It is not a closely-guarded secret or a rare one-in-a-million occurrence. Reading about it, reading what other people say about it, is so bizarre I can hardly breathe. It’s like I was a hermit, I told my mom recently. I was living in a place that other people couldn’t get to and couldn’t understand, and I was alone, and I was dealing with it. Almost content with it, with the space that I’d made my own and the experiences that I was trapped with. 

Reading other people’s stories is like suddenly realizing thousands of people have been living in my house, on my land, this whole time. My first reaction was honestly fear. I DON’T WANT YOU HERE!  

My second reaction was loneliness, and I’ve been bouncing between the two ever since. 

I’m a writer who can’t write most of the time. Artist who often cannot paint. Musician who barely plays and sings. I need these things. I need especially to write. And it’s not the pain or the intestines or the sadness that have been the main obstacle all this time, and I know it now, and I’m staring it in the face and screaming at it daily. I’m screaming into this fucking fog and it doesn’t make anything better, but at least I know its name?

My toes are still tingling, by the way.

[vorish-musing]

A Night They Won’t Forget

Here’s another IT Chapter Two Story! Sorry this took me so long, I just wanted to make this perfect for y’all! 

Summary: This is the first time Richie has eaten someone, and boy is it a wild ride, with a slight surprise for y’all ;)

Note: This story contains G/t, Soft, somewhat unaware, Non-Fatal vore, and if you don’t like it, please skip this story. 

Last note: This takes place before IT Chapter Two, but when they’re all adults.

Warnings: Fearplay, Digestion mention (Doesn’t happen), Cursing, some pain, nothing fatal.

Richie took another drink from his glass of whiskey he was holding, he sat at his desk in his dressing room, trying to compose himself before he got on stage. As he poured another cup for himself, he grabbed some chips from a bowl close by. 

“Why now?” he spoke quietly to himself “why couldn’t this be after the show.” he took deep breaths, his stomach twisting in pain. He tried grabbing more chips, but it never worked. It never worked.

He leaned his head down, his forehead on the edge of the desk, he stared at his feet on the ground. He just had to let it pass. Just like every other time this happened. He just hated how much it hurt this time. 

Ever since Richie could remember, he had these… cravings. They happened every once and awhile, and they were the worst. No matter what he did, they would never go away. He would eat until he was nauseous, drink until he blacked out, and he would smoke weed until he threw up. He just had to let this pass. That's all he could do. 

A knocking at the door brought him out of his headspace, sitting upright like nothing was wrong. A young man in his mid to late twenties opened the door. He had messy brown hair, and eyes that looked terrified. Yep, definitely an intern.  He looked frantic opening the door, only to slightly compose himself seeing Richie, who felt bad for the kid.

The man spoke with a soft, nervous tone “uh… you’re on in five Mr. Tozier.” he looked back down at his sheet, crossing something off. 

Richie just chuckled “Mr. Tozier? Really?” he spoke sarcastically. The man the intern immediately backed down hearing this, thinking he did something wrong. “Just call me Richie, Kid.” 

The intern turned a bright red, smiling sweetly, “sorry…” 

“Don’t worry about that kid, you’re boss probably scared you shitless about the ‘talents’ that go on the stage, right?” he gestured to himself as he said talents, clearly making a joke.

The man laughed “yeah” he was about to say another thing but looked at his watch once more “oh shit I have to run, sorry.” 

“Again, don’t worry about...it.” he slowed his speaking, the hunger hitting him once more like a punch to the gut. The man was already closing the door, not noticing Richie go down. 

That was another thing. When he would look at people, he would get hungry, which freaked him out the most. He didn’t know why. It was like the craving was for them, but that couldn’t be possible, it was impossible for him to go through with it, let alone gross for even thinking about it. 

‘Just keep drinking, you’ll get through this’

He couldn’t remember getting on the stage, or the show itself, he just heard people laugh, and knew he was getting through it. His head was in another place though, he was keeping the pain down as much as possible, masking groans as coughs and speaking louder when his stomach would make noise. 

“Thank you everyone for coming, I don’t usually get to say that outside of bed, I’m Richie Tozier, goodnight New York!” he walked off the stage as fast as possible, the crowd clapping him off. As he passed the crew someone handed him another glass of Whiskey, which he greedily took and downed in an instant, handing the glass back, cringing as the alcohol burned his throat. 

“Richie that was perfect, the crowd loved it!” his manager spoke, “Now I know you’re not feeling well, so I’ll let you get a good rest tonight and see you tomorrow before the next show huh?” 

‘Yeah Whatever.” he waved off his manager, making a beeline for the back exit, so nobody could see him, and he could get fresh air. He opened the back doors, his manager calling for him once more before the doors slammed shut.

Richie slumped against the wall, taking deep breaths and trying to compose himself. He held his stomach tightly, it had never been this bad before, why now?! Maybe he needed an ambulance? Maybe it wasn’t just the cravings he was feeling, is this what starvation feels like?!

“Oh shit” 

Richie jumped at the new voice, turning his head around to see a man around his age standing there. The man had dark brown curly hair, and eyes that were almost recognizable. Richie definitely recognized the man, but he couldn’t remember who he was… weird. 

“Sorry…” the man spoke, “I didn’t know anyone was back here I was just…” the two made eye contact, and the man's eyes widened, “Oh shit… you’re Richie Tozier, if this isn’t weird to say, I loved your show tonight”

Richie smiled through the pain, he would rather not be speaking to someone when he was like this, but he always liked talking to fans. “Thanks man.” he sighed ““Sorry dude, I’d love to talk but I’m not feeling--” 

And there was another punch to his stomach, he lurched over for a second, it seemed to hurt more with this man around. His vision became very fuzzy, all he could focus on was this man in front of him, who was clearly saying something that he couldn’t process. 

Richie’s stomach growled softly, he cringed as thoughts of eating this man crossed his mind. He backed away, worried that he could accidentally hurt him somehow. His senses Heightened as he kept making eye contact with the man, he swore he could smell him, and he smelled good… not like hygienic or clean....appetizing. 

The man came closer with a look of concern, speaking words Richie couldn’t hear. Richie backed up again, trying to keep distance between them. 

“You have to get out of here man, I don’t know what's happening to me.” he spoke, his voice filled with fear, he bit his lip trying to hold back his urges. The man gave a confused look to Richie, and Richie spoke again “Dude just get the fuck out of here this isn’t a jo--”

And everything went black.

-----------------

All he wanted to do was have a good time and watch a live comedy show while he was visiting New York. He heard that Richie Tozier was a good comedian, so he came. 

But Stanley didn’t know what to make of this situation, he couldn’t tell if Richie was on drugs or if he was just insane, but it was starting to freak him out.

“Dude Just get the fuck out of here this isn’t a jo--” Richie’s eyes dilatated, he stopped talking, was this an overdose?! Before he could get a word out, Richie pounced on him holding onto his shoulders, it didn’t hurt, but it was extremely uncomfortable. 

“What the fuck man?!” he tried getting Richie off of him, but the man was holding him down tightly, he definitely did not look as strong as he was. Stan began to feel really dizzy underneath Richie, his head spinning, he shut his eyes, expecting to pass out. 

Stan screamed when he opened his eyes.

 Richie was still on top of him, but he was much bigger than before, he was like a giant. He frantically looked around, seeing everything else as giant. He had shrunk. He looked back up to Richie, who was staring at him with hungry eyes, it took him a moment to realize Richie was looking at him as something to eat.

Something in him, something he had either repressed or forgotten came screaming out

Run

And he did, he got up from the ground, and began running, what was a few steps to get out of the alley before had become a long run for him. He ran, hoping that he could be fast enough to get away from the comedian. 

Unfortunately, he was no match for the giant behind him, who simply picked him up with his thumb and index finger. Stanley yelped as he was hoisted into the and brought up to Richie’s face.

Stan stared into the giants blue eyes, shaking profusely, “Please…” he begged “Put me down, I won’t say this to anyone who would believe me… the famous Richie Tozier tried to…” he couldn’t say the words, he even know if Richie was going to do that, and he didn’t want to give him ideas. He looked for sympathy in the giant's eyes, but there was nothing, he wasn’t even sure Richie was fully aware of what he was doing. He was almost out of options  “I-I have money, I’ll give you all I have just plea…” 

His words trailed off as he was brought closer to Riches face, most notably, his mouth. His heart drops.

Stanley began struggling in the giant’s grip, “wait please!” He kicked Richie’s fingers, trying to make him let go, but it was no use. Richie opened his mouth bringing Stanley's head and torso inside.

He immediately started yelling, screaming, punching doing anything he could with the part of him inside of the mouth to get outside of it. He didn’t dare move his lower half though, his hips rested on the comedian’s teeth. He didn’t want to think about how this man could literally bite him in half without another thought.

Just when Stan thought it couldn’t get worse, the tongue below him started to move, soaking him and his clothes in saliva almost instantly. He cringed at the strong scent of Whiskey reeked around him. 

As the tongue moved the top half of him around, Stan noticed in a really strange way, Richie seemed to be somewhat gentle, the didn’t even feel any pressure on his waist from the teeth. This didn’t change the fact he was in the process of being eaten though. 

Stan got to a point where he couldn’t keep his legs still any longer, he began kicking outside of the mouth. He could feel the impact of him kicking something, he hoped maybe Richie’s nose, but that victory soon ended as he felt his legs be restrained, forcing his lower half to stay still. 

Suddenly, he felt gravity shift around him, making him slip lower into the mouth, closer to the dark red throat. 

He screamed once more, hoping the comedian-turned-cannibal could hear him “Don’t do this!” He felt Richie stop what he was doing for a quick second. Stan hoped he got through to him, everything went quiet.

And then Richie swallowed. 

All the anxiety that was slowly leaving came rushing back through Stan’s veins as his hips and thighs entered the mouth, and his head and shoulders slid into the tight throat. 

He winced at how tight of a fit this was, could he even fit? He then heard Richie cough, like he was trying to get stan out of his throat. He began to go backwards, his shoulders coming out of the throat. Richie was choking on how big stan was compared to the esophagus. He began to squirm more, trying to get Richie to cough him out.

Unfortunately, this small setback didn’t stop Richie, he swallowed once again, hard. 

Stanley was shoved right back into the throat, making him yelp in shock, he was almost sure he was going to get out. 

Richie began swallowing faster, the throat and esophagus stretching to fit Stanley. The man struggled as much as he could, but it was so tight he could barely move, he could only manage a few wiggles here and there. 

A part of him still couldn’t believe this was real. This had to be fake, a dream, anything! But the other half knew that dreams were never this vivid, he would not be able to feel the muscles pushing him down further.  he could never think of this either. This was so...fucked up.

He felt his legs slip between the teeth, and down into the throat, Richie swallowing them greedily. “You… gluttonous bastard!” Stanley cried out as his fate was sealed, there was no escaping now. 

A wave of confusion came over Stan as he heard Richie take a deep breath once he was away from the windpipe. Could he not breathe doing this? He thought to himself good, fucker deserves to choke on the people he kills.

Stanley stopped struggling for just a moment, the word ‘kill’ never went through his head before, but it was obvious that would happen. He didn’t think of what was waiting for below him, he didn’t want to think about it. He just hoped it would be as quick and painless as possible. 

He then felt the pressure around him release as he slipped into the stomach, the smell of alcohol worse than it was before, it was enough to make his eyes water. The stomach greeted him with a loud growl.

Stan Immediately got up and began kicking, punching, and pushing on the walls of the stomach, he knew that he could hurt the comedian, so even though he was doomed, he was going to give this fucker a bad case of indigestion.  

---------------

Richie’s throat felt twisted and mangled and tasted like stale whiskey, his eyes were crusty and his vision blurry, he blinked until his view became clear. Once his spinning began to slow down to a slow throbbing pain, he realized that the pain in his stomach had subsided and was instead replaced with a feeling of satisfaction. 

As he looked down at his body which was originally laying on the ground, but now sitting up, he examined his surroundings but quickly became distracted when he noticed his stomach, although not in perfect shape before, had seemed to have gained an extra inch or two to it.

He then felt a strain in his throat, he held his neck, it felt like it had been stretched wider than it should’ve been. 

He was trying to remember what had happened, he was outside… a fan of his came around and he blacked out. Maybe the guy just freaked and left? But why was he in this much pain? As that thought crossed his mind, he felt something hit his kidney, hard. 

He was knocked right onto his knees, holding his stomach, his whole abdomen hurt, he looked up expecting someone there, but nothing. It took him a few moments to realize the kick came from inside

He felt nauseous, shit, did I eat a rat? What the fuck?! He knew that idea had crossed his mind a while back, but he hoped he would never do that. Couldn’t he get a disease from that? Maybe the bubonic plague?

“fuck me” he held his stomach down, he noticed that the thing stopped moving once he put his hands on his stomach, maybe it was digesting?

“Oh fuck don’t think about that shit” he held his stomach tighter “its going to be fine, if you throw up maybe it’ll not be dead.” He carefully let go of the organ, just in time to see whatever was in his stomach push, making a small bump. “What the fuck...”

“Someone help me! Oh fuck...Help!” Richie Froze, turning his head around, hearing a very faint and muffled voice, he first thought he was hearing things, until another hit in his gut alerted him that the voice wasn’t out there with him.

It was in him. 

“oH GOD WHAT THE FUCK?!” he yelled loudly, covering his mouth so other people wouldn’t hear him and show up.  

Did he actually eat someone? That couldn’t be possible! But… he heard something in his stomach…and his throat did feel quite stretched out. carefully, he pulled his shirt up. 

Maybe it was because he watched too many horror films, but he had expected to see the outline of a person protruding out of his skin. When he saw just smooth skin, and his stomach pushing out a slight bit, it made him feel a little more relieved. 

Richie took a deep breath, and brought a shaky hand to his belly, and carefully pressed a finger down on his skin. 

Instantly the thing in his stomach began to move wildly, he jumped, pulling his hand away “fuck that fuck that fuck that” he spoke, leaving the alleyway and making his way to his car. 

He heard muffled yelling as he got into his car, he paused. “H-hello?” if he was going crazy, at least he was alone, and nobody could hear him.

He winced as the man inside began moving again, this time kicking him harder and harder with every kick. 

“You fucking bastard! People will know I’m gone! I have a wife!” 

Richie froze, this was not a dream. This was real, he had eaten someone, and if he wasn’t mistaken, it was the fan who he had met only a half hour ago. Richie took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was shaking badly. How could he let this happen? Why now? 

He cringed feeling the man writhe in his stomach “can you stop fucking moving for one fucking second?!” he yelled, slamming his hands on the steering wheel. “I didn’t want to fucking do this y’know?! I didn’t want to kill anyone!” 

Richie wanted to cry, but he held it back, even though he was by himself, he couldn’t seem weak. Even in this state. 

Stanley went quiet as he was thrown about in the stomach, the man’s screaming voice all around him, he covered his ears. He could hear the man's heartbeat going a mile a minute. “You didn’t want to kill anyone?! YOU ARE A CANNIBAL!” he kicked once more, this time in the pancreas. 

“No, I’m not!” Richie yelled “I didn’t even know I could actually DO this!” Richie took a deep breath, he needed a drink to calm him down, he had to get home “What’s… what’s your name? Are you hurt?” They seemed like silly questions, but nothing sillier than what was going on.

“You want to know my name? Really? Do you talk to your victims like this all the time? Or am I just lucky?!” the other question sunk into him though, he’d been in there for a while, and the digestion process should have kicked in by now, but he felt no pain, not even a little tingle, it just seemed like he was sitting in saliva and alcohol. “I… I’m not dead” he spoke at a normal tone. More shocked than angry now “how is this possible”

“I’d tell ya if I knew the answer man.” Richie grabbed his keys, turning on the ignition. “tell me if you feel anything, I’ll try and get you out as soon as I can. I… I’m fucking sorry” 

“You really don’t know what you did…” silence on the other end, he was right “Stanley. If you want to know.” 

Stanley…. It sounded so fucking familiar, but then again there were probably a million people named Stanley. “We’ve never met before this right?” 

“Not unless you’ve been to Atlanta and stalked me”

Both were silent on the ride to Richie’s house, both stunned into silence at the events going on. Richie could feel the man moving around in his gut, and in a dark way, it felt...okay? Sure, he could feel the man shaking profusely, but something in him really liked the feeling of being full,  having someone in his stomach felt really good.

He can’t make a habit out of this.

Richie made an abrupt stop as he parked in his parking spot, he felt the man tumble forward, he turned a bit red “Sorry”

“That's the last thing you should be sorry about tonight”

Richie made his way up to his apartment, shutting the door and locking it, he was thankful he didn’t have a significant other or any kids, so he could relax and figure out what the fuck happened without anyone else knowing. 

“I’m...gonna try throwing up. Hopefully this works. If not, we’ll try something else.” 

It didn’t work, nothing did. Stanley tried to climb up Richie’s throat, but it was too painful for either of them, Richie tried pushing on his stomach to get stan out by force, hurt like hell and didn’t work either. 

Richie dropped the floor in his kitchen “maybe if I get really fucking drunk--”

“You are not fucking drinking with me in here” 

“What else are we supposed to do man?!” Richie poked the bulge in his stomach, “We’ve been at this for an hour, I don’t even think I have a gag reflex anymore” 

An hour. Stanley seemed to lose track of time, and he was shocked to hear that he’d been in there for an hour. 

“Y’know, you’re probably gonna be fine.” Richie sighed “I mean it's been a really long time, and you’re not even a little dead.” 

Stans eyes narrowed, “doesn’t mean I want to be in here!” he pushed on the wall, it tensing up in pain. It was gross, but there were worse things that could happen. 

“That's not what I’m saying dude” Richie winced, rubbing his stomach carefully, it was very tender from all the beatings it had taken throughout the night. “All I’m saying is that we don’t have to destroy my body, we don’t have a time limit, so we can just chill for a bit.”

Stan could hear the pain in Richie’s voice, but he tried to ignore it, he couldn’t feel bad for the guy who shrunk and ate him, that's ridiculous. He rolled his eyes, there was no way he could chill inside a stomach. “Fine” 

Richie sat in silence on the floor by his couch, trying to give his throat and belly a break from all the abuse. Stan probably didn’t realize how hard this was on Richie physically. It hurt like hell, and he was pretty much responsible for this person to live or die. 

God, this was to fucked up! He ATE somebody! And he liked it! He could still taste stan on his lips, a faint taste, but it was clearly there.  it was unlike anything he had ever tasted, he couldn’t describe it, all he knew was that it tasted good. Even though it was painful, he actually liked when Stanley moved around.

It was quiet, calm, and it even felt like Stanley was trying to relax as well. And in that moment, a lightbulb clicked on in his head. 

He began to focus on Stanley’s form, every movement, every breath, everything. Richie took his hand, carefully pressed on his stomach, not where stan was, but just underneath him, almost instantaneously, Stan started squirming.

“What is that?!” he was scared that they were wrong, that the digestion process was about to begin.

“Relax, I’m doing something” Richie spoke, silencing Stan, He couldn’t explain, he was afraid that if he did, it would be harder to do. 

Richie took a deep breath, preparing himself, then winced as stan entered the Esophagus once again, stretching it out a little too far for Richie’s comfort. He tried slowing down the process to minimize the pain, but it didn’t help. 

Stan gasped as he was squished into the esophagus, barely able to move, he was shocked that he even got out of the stomach this quickly. Out of instinct, he tensed up and began shaking. Just then, he stopped moving, he heard Richie's heart speed up and the man begins to breathe heavily, like he was scared.

“What's wrong?” Stan called out, worried that he’d be muffled more than before. 

“R...Relax.” Richie’s voice was strained, he sounded like he was in a ridiculous amount of pain. It made Stan realize what he was doing. Stan regulated his breathing, clenched his jaw and relaxed his body, hoping for Richie to continue.

Stan felt his body being pulled up once again, it was a much different experience this time, last time it was terrifying, almost painful and confusing. This time it was almost a relief to be in the esophagus strangely enough. 

When Stan passed the lungs, Richie froze, realizing he couldn’t breathe, Stan was blocking his airflow, he cringed, pushing the man up faster, putting himself in excruciating pain, trying to breathe again. 

Finally, Stan’s head and shoulders entered the mouth, Richie opened his mouth putting two fingers in to grab him, it took a few seconds but Stan finally exited the throat, Richie coughing loudly and dropping Stan on the couch beside him, taking deep breaths.

Stan covered his eyes at the brightness in the room, Stanley was covered in saliva, his hair sticking up in places and shaking at the change of temperature as well. He uncovered his eyes to see Richie. there were tear stains on his face, he looked extremely exhausted and he was holding his throat.

Richie, held his hand up as if to say ‘hold on’, before getting up and stumbling to the other room. Stanley didn’t move a muscle  as he waited for Richie to come back. 

Stan got a good look at his surroundings, everything was so big compared to him, he seemed so… vulnerable. He hoped that Richie didn’t have any pets. 

Stanley was snapped out of his thoughts as Richie re-entered the room with a huge glass of water, drinking very quickly, most likely trying to ease the pain. 

Stan watched as he drank, it sent a shiver down his spine seeing the man's Adam’s apple bob up and down with every gulp. It made him realize how easy it was for Richie to eat him again if he wanted.

Richie took a break from drinking, and looked down at Stanley, who was shaking like a leaf. He turned a bit red, placing the glass down and sitting on the floor, trying to become eye level with the shrunken man. Instinctively, Stan moved back. 

Richie adjusted his glasses, “sorry” his voice was hoarse, it sorts of hurt to speak, but nothing really stopped Richie from speaking when he wanted to. 

Stanley shook his head, communicating that it was okay. 

God it was so awkward now, what do you say to someone who you just ate and coughed up? as Richie was thinking, Stan spoke first.

“How do I get back to my regular size?” that thought never occurred to Richie until this moment. He felt so stupid, of course this man couldn’t spend the rest of his life as a Ken Doll. Stanley saw the look on Richie's face, “you don’t know how to do that either…” he sounded disappointed.

“The last thing I remember before waking up was you coming closer to me.” Richie shrugged apologetically “Do you remember how you shrunk?” 

Stanley thought for a moment then his eyes lit up, the moment flooding back into his head. “You jumped on me, and you were grabbing onto my shoulders tightly. Then I felt dizzy, then I was like this.”

Richie nodded, slowly bringing a hand closer to Stanley, this time the man didn’t move away, and Richie placed his hand on him. He scrunched his face up, closing his eyes to concentrate, ‘regrow regrow regrow’ he thought in his head, hoping that it would work.

He opened one of his eyes, Stanley staring at him with an unamused gaze. He was still tiny. “You look ridiculous” he didn’t say it in a mean way, it sounded very lighthearted, and Richie knew the face he was making was probably not the best looking.

“Don’t make me eat you again” he retorted, stan just rolled his eyes, they both knew Richie was in no state to even try, with his throat in pain and how much the act fucked him up mentally. 

Richie then tried again, this time taking a deep breath, and letting go of any frustration. He closed his eyes, and didn’t think of anything, he left his mind blank. 

Stanley became very dizzy, which was a good sign since that is what had happened before, he began to grow, slowly, but it was still progress. Richie opened his eyes to see Stanley growing back up to size, and he was amazed. He could actually do that! He could make people grow and shrink!

When Stan was back to his normal height (Richie Hoped) the man stood a slight bit smaller than Richie, but not as small as before. 

“You can use my shower if you want to get all of...” he gestured to stands saliva coated body “that… off of you”

In any other situation, Stan would be embarrassed, but after everything, all he wanted to do was get cleaned up and leave. He just nodded silently. 

Richie to the Hallway, “First door on the right, towels are in the cupboard beside it.”

Stan nodded once more, turning and walking to the washroom. “What are you gonna do?” 

“I’m going to get super fucking drunk.” 

Stanley laughed to himself as he shut the door, quickly getting into the shower. The water was warm, it reminded him so much of Richie’s stomach, but not the scary parts. 

Now that he was thinking about it, being in there wasn’t terrible, definitely not a vacation spot, but not as horrifyingly traumatic as he thought it would be.

Stan shook his head, what was he thinking?! He could have died! But... he didn't. He was probably the only person to be eaten and survive. That had to be somewhat interesting to anyone. 

He laughed out loud at his thoughts, his mind was so twisted around from what happened, he couldn’t tell what was right or wrong anymore. 

Stanley shut the shower off, hopping out quickly. He noticed a small pile of clothes on the sink, with a sticky note right beside them. 

He made his way to the sink, picking up the note. The writing looked like a ten-year-old wrote it, or maybe a drunk adult. It was still legible thankfully 

‘Thought you’d need these, unless you want to walk around in slimy pants :) -Richie’

Stan's face flushed a bright red. Richie came into the bathroom while he was showering! He wanted to be angry, to go out and yell at the man for his idiocy, but he didn’t have the strength to anymore. And Richie was doing a nice thing by giving him clothes, and it was clear that Richie didn’t want to watch him shower, if he did, he'd probably be in there now.

Stan came out of the bathroom, wearing Richie’s clothes, his folded neatly as possible in his hands. 

Richie was on the couch with a bottle of vodka and a few shot glasses. The man was in the middle of a shot as he noticed Stan out of the corner of his eye. He put the glass down, smiling as he held a different shot glass up for him. 

Stan shrugged, he never really liked to drink, but today was an acceptation, he felt like he needed it. He walked down to Richie, sitting beside him, and taking the shot glass out of his hand. 

Richie grabbed another shot, smiling at Stan, “Cheers” he spoke, taking the shot without reacting to the strong alcohol. 

Stan followed suit, reacting to it the complete opposite, making a face as it burned his throat  Richie laughed, Stan glared jokingly. 

“God what the fuck was this night” Richie spoke, the smell of alcohol on his breath strong. “Can we never speak of this again? I’d rather not be labeled as a monster.”

“Who would believe me, Hey everyone! I was eaten by the famous Richie Tozier! Get your pitchforks and torches!” he called out, making Richie roll his eyes 

“Y’know, I like you man. Taste pretty good too” Richie covered his mouth, clearly not wanting to say that out loud, “fuck” he spoke through his hand. “I’m too fucking drunk”

Stanley stared at Richie, somehow not freaked out by the comment “So… this the first time you’ve done this, Right” he was trying to change the subject to spare the other man from further embarrassment. 

Richie nodded, “I’ve… always had cravings for it, I guess this is what happens when I don’t… fulfill it?” he shrugged, not really knowing how to explain it “I’m sorry it had to be you.” 

Stanley shrugged, he couldn't say it was okay, but he wasn’t mad anymore. “Lets just...go our separate ways, not talk about it?”

Richie nodded, “do you want me to give you a ride to the venue again? Its not far from here.” 

“No, I took the subway. Is there a station near?” 

Richie gave him the directions, there was one station only a few minutes away. 

“Do you want the clothes back? I can send them to you”

“Nah, keep them, something to remember me by” 

“I don’t think I’ll forget this any time soon.” Stanley laughed softly, getting up from the couch. Richie followed, stumbling a bit. They both walked to the door in silence. Richie opened it, but before Stan could leave, he spoke

“What's your name? Like...Full name.” 

Stanley looked back in a bit of confusion, why did he need to know? “Stanley Uris”

Richie Held his hand out “Goodbye Stanley Uris, hope I’ll get to see you again” he didn’t think he would, but it was a nice thought.

Stanley shook the other man's hand, smiling “Goodbye Richie Tozier.”

Stanley left, Richie closed the door, and they went their separate ways.

---------------------

Around a year later, he was just finished a show at the same venue, he had just finished, and was doing a slight meet and greet.

When the crowd was basically gone, a woman came up to him, “Oh my god! You were amazing!” she spoke with the most cheerful voice he had ever heard. It was one that brought a smile to your face. 

He smiled “thank you, I know” he winked jokingly. 

She giggled sweetly “my husband told me that you changed his life, and I can see what he meant, you’re really great!” she turned around “honey come meet him!”

Stanley came around the corner, and Richie froze, “you” he said quietly to himself, making sure nobody could hear him. Stan was even wearing the clothes he gave him. 

Stanley smiled “Its nice to meet you Mr. Tozier” 

Without warning, he pulled Stan in for a hug. The man first yelped in surprise, then embraced it. 

His wife smiled “Hon?” she asked Stan “I’m going to go to the washroom, I’ll be back” and she left without another word.

When the two let go of each other, Stan noticed Richie was smiling an insane amount. “What happened to going separate ways?

“I wanted to see you again, see if you’re still a cannibal” he spoke quietly, making sure nobody eavesdropping could hear. 

“Why? Come back for more?” the two laughed, it all seemed funny now, since then Richie had eaten a few people to make sure he wouldn’t go insane again. Only people who were drunk or wouldn’t remember when the evening was over. 

“I just wanted to see you, I’m glad your doing good.” Stan spoke, his voice sincere and friendly “I should go meet back with my wife.” 

“Yeah… glad to see you’re still around though” Richie spoke as Stanley left.

“You too”

-------------------------------

And there we go! I hope you guys enjoyed reading this, I enjoyed writing this!