#it's not 'platonic climbing class' its just not climbing class. lmfao

[not-your-bro]

just blocked someone over putting a post about how they don't like climbing class IN the climbing class tag like hey. don't do that

[sleepdeprivedsloth]

Jackpot

[MHA - Kaminari, Sero, Bakugou]

summary: Bakugou is in a bitch mood and doesn’t want to socialize with anyone, especially not any of his idiotic classmates. Kaminari and Sero don’t exactly get the hint, and they end up finding a way to cheer up their grumpy friend. (platonic KamiSeroBaku fic)

potential warnings: swearing, tickling

words: 1.8 k

a/n: school has been such a bitch BUT i just finished one of my ap exams so i wanted to indulge myself and all yall nice people out there :) it’s another ticklish baku fic, and i wish i could say i’m sorry but i’m really not lmfao hope you enjoy everyone!

--

It was a known fact amongst the students of Class 1-A that when Bakugou woke up in a bad mood, it was best to steer clear out of his way. Nobody was daring enough to bother the blonde when he seemed to be on the verge of blowing up the entire dorm with nothing more than a thunderous BOOM.

Well, nobody except Kaminari and Sero.

Bakugou was in one of these explosive moods, reading some manga on his bed to help pass the time, when he heard a couple of knocks on his door. “Fuck off,” he grumbled sharply, refusing to bring his eyes away from the illustrated pages. He most certainly was not in the mood to socialize with any idiots today, but the universe had other plans.

“C’mon Bakubro, just let us in!” Kaminari’s voice exclaimed through the locked door.

“Yeah! You know we won’t go away until you open up,” Sero’s voice called out, and Bakugou could practically see the obnoxiously knowing smile that his friends the morons were no doubt wearing.

Failing to repress an eye roll, Bakugou dragged himself out of bed, manga still in hand, and walked over to the door. With a heavy sigh, he begrudgingly opened up and leaned his body against the door frame. “What do you fuckers want?”

Kaminari’s eyes gleamed with suspicious excitement. “Nothing at all! Just wanted to hang out with you, dude.”

Bakugou’s eyes narrowed at the two, knowing that even they weren’t stupid enough to just ‘hang out’ with him when he was dangerously annoyed. “No. Go the fuck away.”

“Bro, you haven’t smiled at all this whole week! Just let us help you chill out for a while. You can’t hate us that much, right?” Sero suggested with a hopeful smile on his face. 

“I can, and I do,” Bakugou deadpanned. “You dumbasses can’t force me to hang out with you. Just leave me the fuck alone.”

At that, Kaminari and Sero exchanged a quick glance at one another before turning their attention back to their grumpy friend. Without a word, Kaminari reached out and poked a finger into Bakugou’s stomach. He let out a muffled yelp as he stumbled backwards a bit further into his room, allowing Kaminari and Sero enough space to enter themselves.

If looks could kill, the two would have been lying dead on the floor the moment they stepped foot into the blonde’s dorm. Bakugou sent them a fierce and fiery glare, steam practically blowing out of his ears. “What the fuck do you damn extras think you’re doing?!”

Kaminari smirked. “Forcing you to hang out with us. Sero, get his arms.”

Before Bakugou could fully comprehend what was happening, Sero tackled him down to the floor, knocking the manga out of his hands and pulling his wrists above his head. Bakugou started kicking his legs around, trying to get enough momentum to break free of Sero’s strong hold, until he felt Kaminari sit himself down on his thighs, successfully pinning him against the floor.

Feeling his palms start to spark threateningly with small explosions, Bakugou’s face fell into an annoyed sneer. Could these dipshits not see that he was clearly not in the mood for their little pranks? “Get the hell off me, you- NGH!”

Kaminari chuckled as he slid his hands underneath Bakugou’s shirt with a slight wiggle of his fingers. He felt his friend’s body tense as he started to slowly trace his fingertips along his sides, his touch practically as light as a feather. “Oh Kacchan, don’t be like that! We just wanna hang out with our favorite blasty boy.”

Bakugou growled, struggling to keep the ends of his lips from turning upwards. “G-get your filthy hands o-offa me, Dunce Face! I s-swear to go-OHOD NO!”

A reluctant smile broke out onto Bakugou’s face when Sero taped his wrists to the floor and started to softly drum his fingers into the exposed armpits, forcing the blonde into a bout of giggles. “There’s that adorable little smile that we’ve been looking for!” Sero teased.

“L-lehet me uhup, Tahape Fahace!” Bakugou tried to threaten through his wobbly grin. “I d-dohon’t want to hang out wihith you idiohohots!”

Kaminari moves his hands to lightly scribble at Bakugou’s taut stomach, causing him to break out into an uncontrollable fit of higher pitched giggles. “But we love hanging out with you, Blasty! Think of all the fun we could have together!”

“Yeah, Bakubro!” Sero joined in, wiggling his fingers underneath Bakugou’s arms, occasionally moving his tickly touches down to the blonde’s upper ribs. “We could have a movie night, just the three of us. What do you guys think of Big Hero 6?”

“Ah yeah, I love that movie! What about you, Bakugou?” Kaminari asked in a much too casual manner.

“I hahahate you bohohoth sohoho much!!”

Kaminari grinned, briefly slowing his fingers’ movements. “But you’re still having fun, right?” At this, Bakugou’s breath hitched and his eyes widened, looking over at the electric blonde in a mixture of confusion and shock, his cheeks reddening a bit. “Yeah, sorry to break it to you, bro, but it’s kinda obvious you don’t want us to stop tickling you.”

Seeing a hint of distress and discomfort in his friend’s eyes, Sero quickly cut it. “Honestly, we’d be lying if we said we wanted to stop! Making you all smiley and giggly feels like a privilege!”

With far too much enthusiasm, Kaminari nodded his head in agreement before a teasing smirk made its way onto his face. “If anything, I bet you want us to kick it up a notch, dontcha Blasty?~”

“N-no I don-ohohon’t!” Bakugou shouted out as he felt Kaminari insert a singular finger into his belly button.

“Y’know, I’ve always wanted to try this out. Lemme know how it feels, okay?” he asked before sending a small shock of electricity through his finger, using just enough energy to get the ticklish blonde screaming.

“NAHAHAHA! WHAHAHAHAT THE FUHUHUHUCK?!” Bakugou howled with laughter, immediately overwhelmed by the sensations of the shock tickling him both inside and out. He began twisting and squirming to get Kaminari’s finger out of the sensitive spot, only to find that his desperate thrashing only managed to push Kaminari’s finger further into his belly button and increase the shock’s tickly effects. “GEHEHET IT THE FUHUCK OHOHOHOUT!!”

“Jackpot!” Kaminari shouted out as he slightly wiggled his finger, never stopping the small, steady stream of electricity that passed through it. The explosive blonde’s head was thrown back from the force of his hysterics. “Aww, does it tickle that much?”

“No fair!” Sero exclaimed with playful offense. “You can’t just steal all of Bakubro’s laughter all by yourself. You gotta share, Denks!” Sero brought his own hands up to Bakugou’s pinned wrists and started to gently drag his fingertips down teasingly towards his underarms at an agonizingly slow pace. He didn’t get much of a reaction until he passed the boy’s elbows, when Bakugou began shaking his head and tugging harder on his arms. “Ohoho, what’s this? You keeping another weak spot from us, dude?”

“DOHOHON’T YOU DAHAHARE GO ANY FUHUHURTHER, TAHAPE FAHACE!! I SWEAHAHAR I’LL KIHIHILL YOHOHOU!!” Bakugou’s threats fell on deaf ears as he felt Sero’s fingers traveling closer and closer to his underarms. He really did try to refrain himself when the dark-haired boy’s soft fluttering reached the underside of his triceps, just above his armpits, but he instantly lost control. Bakugou snorted before practically screaming with pure laughter, the most genuine smile his two friends had ever seen inevitably spreading across his typically scowling face.

“Yes, ultimate jackpot!! Take that, Kaminari!” Sero shouted proudly over Bakugou’s loud shrieks. The two boys then increased their efforts, starting to tickle harder and faster, each trying to pull the most hysterical noises from the boy trapped beneath them.

Their playful competition left lucky poor Bakugou in stitches until he finally pleaded out for mercy, tears of mirth prickling the edges of his closed-shut eyes. “ALRIGHT AHAHALRIGHT!! I’LL HAHAHANG OUT WITH YOHOHOHOU IDIOHOHOTS!! JUHUHUST STOP STOHOHOP STAHAHAHAHAHA-!”

The two immediately stopped and pulled their torturous hands away from the giggly blonde’s body. Kaminari climbed off of Bakugou’s thighs while Sero got to work removing the tape at his wrists.

As he worked, Sero looked down at Bakugou with a smug smirk. “Was wondering how long it was gonna take you to tell us to stop, Bakubro!”

“Yeah, seriously dude,” Kaminari joined in, helping the boy sit up once his wrists were free. “You’ve got some hella strong endurance!”

Bakugou wrapped his arms around his torso, rubbing the phantom tickles away as stray titters found their way out of his carefree smile. “Oho shuhut up,” he grumbled in half-hearted annoyance.

“Dude, look at that smile! You should definitely wear it more often, man,” Sero genuinely complimented, earning a deeper blush on Bakugou’s face. “It really is a good look on you!”

“I’m honestly glad that we were able to get you out of your little Bakubitch mood! Who knew that a little bit of tickling is the secret to ending your raging rampage?” Kaminari slung an arm over Bakugou’s shoulders, giving a quick squeeze.

“Whatever, fucking extras,” Bakugou said as he rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of fondness in his smile. If Kaminari noticed how he leaned a bit into the comforting touch, the electric blonde thankfully didn’t mention it.

“Hear ye, hear ye!” Sero called out, catching the intrigued attention of the other two boys. “On this day, I hereby decree that Sir Bakugou Katsuki must give me, Sero Hanta, and my fellow companion, Kaminari Denki, at least one of his genuine smiles everyday for the rest of our lives!”

“I second that! And if you fail to do so, we’ll find a way to make you smile,” Kaminari playfully threatened, sliding his arm hanging off of Bakugou’s shoulder down to the boy’s side. He gave gentle pinches to the sensitive skin, causing Bakugou to lean away and break out in a new round of giggles. “Understood?”

“Understood, understoohohod!! Nohoho more, Duhuhunce Fahace!”

“Good!” Kaminari retracted his arm from its place around Bakugou’s torso. He and Sero stood up from their seats on the floor.

Sero picked up Bakugou’s manga that had been clumsily disregarded, handing the book over to its owner. “Well, we’ll get out of your hair now, bro. See you later?”

Bakugou stared down at the book in his hands for a short moment, contemplating, before he looked back up hopefully towards the morons his friends. “Are you idiots still up for watching Big Hero 6?

Kaminari and Sero’s faces practically beamed with excitement. “Hell yeah, Bakubro! Lemme go get us some snacks real quick!” Sero exclaimed before rushing out of the room.

“We can watch it on my laptop! I’ll be right back, dude!” Kaminari called out as he quickly ran out after Sero.

Bakugou heard a faint, “This is gonna be so much fun!!” shouted from somewhere down the hallway, and he couldn’t help the soft smile that grew across his lips as he internally agreed.

--

a/n: yay!! i hope yall at least somewhat enjoyed reading this! just wanna say good luck to all of my fellow students, you’ve got this <3 school sucks but it’s almost over! i believe in all of youuuu :D

[kxhlzn]

[i.] the birdwatcher & his lover.

➳ synopsis: it's the summer of '89, and you discover new things about yourself— some good, and some you wish you could swallow and never see again. dealing with the newfound confusion of sexuality, you must learn the ins and outs of friendship and what it means to grow up.

➳ genre: coming-of-age drama, fluff, crack, angst, slow burn romance, lgbtq+ themes.

➳ characters/pairing(s): eventual stanley uris/reader (main couple), unrequited!beverly marsh/reader, eventual richie/eddie (possibly unrequited), eventual bev/ben.

➳ wordcount: 3.2k

➳ warnings: profanity, partial nudity (the lake), slight angst.

➳ song recs: "beverly" from the it soundtrack & "she" by dodie.

➳ author's notes: hi hi hi! this is my first fic on tumblr and honestly i'm a bit anxious about this bc i haven't written in ages lmfao. this is a series, so pls don't hesitate to send in asks and the like! nothing is set entirely into stone yet. please note! the characters are fifteen in this, and pennywise doesn't attack derry at all; so georgie is alive and well and chasing paper boats in the rain. richie & reader are both bisexual, ben & bev fall in love as kids. reader and bill are vv close but platonically.

June, 1989.

the first time you meet stanley uris, he is perched on a oak bench planted in the middle of derry park, his bruised knees pressed together in order to keep his journal steady. his chin is pointed to the heavens, eyes searching the clouds, a curious glow in them; cheeks dusted a light pink, he was angelic, the sun's rays a dull comparison to the golden glow of his messy curls. the boy had a nervous tick of tapping his pencil against the yellowed paper in his lap, followed by the curve of his brow when he noticed a bird flutter overheard.

you, at age eleven, were fascinated by him, and lacked a filter to save you from your mouth. it's almost as if the hinge of your jaw had lost a screw, and you feared if it hung open too long a fly might seek entrance there. of course, it would have been entirely avoidable if you hadn't sat your butt right next to him, and stuck your nose right where it didn't belong: in his journal.

"your handwriting is pretty, but your drawings can use some serious work. is that supposed to be a bird? it looks like it's having a heart attack," you had said, tilting your head, "the wings are too jagged and the legs too... sticky, you know? not like sticky like honey, but sticky like... you know, sticks? are you mute or something?"

your blank stare forces stanley's hand to shoot to the back of his neck as he tries to find the words to attend to all of your commentary. his mouth opens and closes a few times before you roll your eyes dramatically, slumping into the back of the bench. stanley clears his throat, eyes falling to the ground.

a silence ensues, and you glance from his crestfallen expression to the drawings. "and, uh, his eyes are buggy; they look like fat marbles. they're taking up his whole face."

stan releases a breathy laugh, and he raises an eyebrow at the graphite drawing in front of him. "they do, don't they?"

you mirror his laugh, and nod solemnly. "there's no saving them," you say, and decide to tell him your name, outstretching your hand proudly.

"stanley," the boy replies, meeting your grip and giving it a good shake. "uh, you know a lot about drawing. could you fix him?"

you hum, taking the journal from his lap and dropping it in your own. you tilt your head at the sketch, putting your chin in your hand. "it's going to be a tough job, but i think he'll survive. scalpel, sir?"

he hands you the yellow pencil, sharpened down half its original length. "anastesia? or uh," you inquire, not aware of how to spell or pronounce the word, "the stuff that doctors give people during surgery."

"anesthesia," stanley corrects, pulling a pink eraser from his pocket and giving it away.

"yeah, that," you bring the eraser down and the bird lines are soon gone, but the remnants of what was stays behind on the paper. "your lines are really hard. you've prolly got heavy hand, you know. but don't worry, i do too."

the next few minutes are in comfortable silence, save for your absent-minded humming. stanley leans over your shoulder, but not to the point of invading personal space, studying each pencil stroke gracing the journal. he makes a comment about the structure of the real-life bird, and you nod your head in agreement. the two of you synchronize nearly perfectly — you sketch what he tells you to. you aren't very observant to the outside world, but you focus on details in your drawings. stanley will mention that the creature has a stray mark on its beak, and you pencil it in without the graphite being too dramatic, which stanley is quick to do in his work.

after an hour of chatting and working, you are sitting on the back of the bench, feet placed comfortably on the seat. you are talking on and on about a story that happened during your english class, and you don't refrain a single detail. stanley listens intently, body slouched forward over his journal as he writes physical descriptions of the bird next to the drawing. he checks the time on his watch, and nearly jumps out of his seat. he swivels around, eyes blown wide, but you don't seem to notice as your arms wave about, mimicking a girl in your class.

stanley barks your name, which sounds sweet on his tongue, he realizes. when you focus on him curiously, he looks guilty. "i have to go. i was supposed to go to my friend's house so we could go to the quarry together. uh, unless you want to.. go?"

you grin, hopping onto the soil beside him. "for sure!" you hook your arm in his, and skip forward a few steps.

"wrong way," he says sheepishly.

you turn around, now exceedingly confident. "onward, steed!"

the next few years, up until freshman year, you are best friends with stanley uris and his gang of friends; bill denbrough, richie tozier, and eddie kaspbrak. bill was the kindest of all of them, a sensitive boy with a heart of gold. his love for art made him an easy companion, and you grew very close the summer of 7th grade, spending many hours a week at his house simply talking and making art. his little brother is like your favorite person, the little squirt constantly bugging bill about when he'll see you again, and telling bill he likes you better because you'll play with him.

eddie is a mother hen to you, warning you about the dangers you put yourself in on a daily basis. you are more reckless than the other boys, so it's common to see eddie turn an ugly shade of purple when he witnesses you do something exceedingly ignorant. with your asthma, he can relate to you, but you personally believe the inhalers you have are pointless and there's no need to rely on them, but eddie disagrees. when he takes a puff from his emergency inhaler, which is more of a daily one, he tends to shove one in your mouth too for simple sake of anxiety. you've found that he calms down when you play with his hair or give his scalp a light scratch, his voice lost in the serenity of it all.

ah, richie tozier; you two are scarily similar, and everyone is aware of it. he's of course referred to as "trashmouth", and you're known as "loudmouth", as richie has a tendency to speak inappropriate things, and you just keep speaking and can't properly whisper to save your life. a major difference between the two of you is your vulnerability, naiveness, and positive charisma. his talkativeness is characterized by sarcasm and the "class clown" stereotype, while yours relies more on really just being a chatterbox, whose thoughts spill out at rapid speeds without being filtered by your brain. fortunately, it's easier to make friends this way, and you tend to be the ice-breaker of your friends. richie, personally, admires this about you and thinks of you as an "innocent little ball of sunshine", and likes to put his arm on your head to show his dominance.

your relationship with stanley uris is a bit complicated; of course, at first, it was unproblematic being friends with him, as you were easy opposites. you spoke into the space that he was too quiet to fill, and it was comfortable for the both of you; you got to speak your mind without interruption, and stanley was able to have company that didn't force him to interact gregariously. however, as you grew with time, he found your carelessness to be irritating, as he hated feeling he had to be anxious all of the time; stanley enjoys turning his alarm off, and running on low function, and he thinks it is hard to do that when you're jumping off cliffs, climbing on slippery rocks with your eyes covered, and provoking bullies three years older than you. he finds you irrational and childlike, which is difficult for him to grasp as an inherently strategic and analytical person. you are a glass half full, and he is glass half empty. he prefers to consider the consequences, and you have a tendency to wait to find them out after you commit the deed. he has his future planned, and you want to live in the moment; you enjoy surprises, new opportunities, as there is something entirely boring about being sure what you plan to do each day. sometimes, you believe stanley wakes early, dresses in the outfit he put aside the night before, and takes a seat to write down a schedule. you shiver at the thought. unfortunately, the disagreements put tension on your friendship, as hanging out periodically ends with an argument, and one of you stomping out to rant to one of the others. you sincerely care for each other, but also find each other extremely irritating when the situation calls for it; which is becoming increasingly habitual as you grow taller with age.

but you also find him to be beautiful.

you're fifteen when you properly meet ben hanscom, beverly marsh, and mike hanlon. it's also the first time you felt something strike deep in your gut for that particular redheaded girl, and the way her newly chopped locks curled at the ends. she had tucked your hair behind your ear as you wrestled with the button on your overall shorts, and took your hands in hers, pushing them aside so she could slip the button through the hole properly. she was so graceful, elegant even, in the way she held herself. that day, you labeled the twist of your insides as insecurity, nothing else.

it was a mix of many things, you realized a long time after. insecurity, deep-rooted sexual confusion, and jealousy.

beverly is the first to jump off the cliff and into the lake below. after aiding you in your clothing disaster, she slips her creamy overdress from her shoulders, and gives her arms a good shake. she departs with a glance back at you, the sun beating down on her hair like fiery red flames, and her icy eyes contrasting its intensity. suddenly, you feel so small; so plain. before she could see your lip quiver, she was in the air, high like an angel, before falling towards the murky waters.

the stars in bill and ben's eyes, and the admiration in the rest of theirs, erupt a cacophony for you, striking your heart like a harsh note: these aren't your boys anymore.

bill jumps next, and then the others, eddie last. the splash sends spikes in your spine, but it's a warm hand on your shoulder that kick-starts your body. sandy curls appear in front of your face, tilting to reveal the kind eyes of stanley uris. his mouth is shaped in a firm line, a bit disappointed by your lack of enthusiasm. he seems to be at war with himself.

he stays silent for a moment, eyes searching the sky for the right words. "i want to go last," he finally breathes, seemingly triumphed in his verbiage, "i don't want them to see me cross my fingers behind my back before i go."

you laugh softly, relieved. you are grateful knowing he wasn't going to pry in your hesitation, or your brief self-consciousness. even when the two of you bicker, you hold high respect for stan; he's a boy of few words. he isn't shy, and certainly isn't bashful; he simply chooses to speak sparingly, believing that the chattiest voices aren't always loudest. he doesn't word vomit to fill the silence; that is how you know his words are meticulously chosen, like pieces to a greater puzzle.

stanley's thin frame makes no unnecessary movements, but rather awaits yours. his hand has long since abandoned your shoulder, and rather is cuffing his other calmly in front of his hips. the lack of speech isn't menacing or awkward, but instead a bit comforting; it gives you adequate time to finish undressing, tossing aside your socks and shoes. you pull the loose scrunchie from your hair, and give yourself a silent nod in reassurance.

"promise not to tell?" stan says quietly when he's sure you're more stable, curious eyes searching for yours.

"pinky promise," you insist, holding up the smallest finger on your right hand. when his wraps around yours, you toss him a childlike grin. "i never break them."

and then you're gone, cascading down towards the green waters, each wave crystalizing in your descent.

"i know," stanley whispers to himself. little do you know, he has the same epiphany you had just seconds ago, aweing after beverly.

he crosses his fingers behind his back, and steps off the cliff's edge.

air reaches your lungs when you pull your head above the surface, and you gather your sopping hair from your skin, laying it against your neck. you face the sky, and stan's dive is a flash of gold: like a bird, graceful in it's dip, his curls like its wings.

you find yourself wanting to ask him what it's like to fly.

—

on a boiling day in the middle of june, you and the others spend a day in the quarry again, but instead have a picnic by the rocks rather than racing back into town for a snack at eddie's house. it was mike's idea; he hadn't told anyone until he showed up early that day, sweaty and beaming with a quaint basket and blanket tucked under his arm. you felt a bit guilty, honestly— you wish he would've told you so you all could pitch in.

he seemed ecstatic, though, setting it up, so you couldn't bring yourself to mention that.

beverly says she wants to sunbathe with you, so you agree with hot cheeks and position yourself awkwardly next to her, posture straight with your knees tucked under your arms. your stiffness goes unnoticed by her, thankfully, so you're able to admire her form in peace as she stretches her limbs out with a soft sigh. compared to her, you feel unbearably rigged, unbearably not feminine. a thought crosses your mind that her own feminity outshines yours so much that the boys must think of you as one of them, minus the third leg, and with twin petals blossoming on your chest.

the boys are curled around their usual spots, the multiple boulders a few feet from your seated position, chatting carelessly. mike is discluded, lost in preparing the perfect picnic for you all. perhaps if you had noticed the simplicity of it all, you wouldn't have blurted out something ignorant to force a tension in the summer air.

"do you guys think i'm pretty?"

the conversation drops briefly, takes a soft roar, and then entirely ceases as seven pairs of eyes draw to you, including mike and beverly. the red-haired girl has a smirk on her lips, tilting her head ever so slightly as if to test your patience and purpose.

bill clears his throat gently. "u-um, well, yeah of c-course.. w-why wouldn't w-we?"

you shrug nonchalantly, and the others eyeball each other, pleading for another to say something else. eddie and ben slyly play rock paper scissors for a sacrifice.

richie whistles lowly. "this is gonna be good."

your face's temperature soon begins to rival the sun as your breath hitches in your throat, attention turned directly on beverly, as though her presence might calm your nerves. it doesn't. your lower lip is caught between your teeth, as you grow progressively more embarrassed of yourself the longer the others stare.

beverly smiles gently, her intensely blue eyes never straying from yours. "i think you're the prettiest girl in the world."

you sputter suddenly, adjusting your aviators, and spill out something along the lines of "i have to go take a piss", and skitter off in the direction of the woods. you curse yourself the entire way.

richie laughs, breaking the tension. he pats stanley's bare back roughly as the lanky boy stares at the trees you disappeared behind. "and the hits just keep on coming."

"beep beep, richie," eddie scolds, and richie winks at him, suggestively nodding towards him. eddie rolls his eyes and his gaze drops to his feet.

"sandwiches, anyone?" mike whimpers, a lopsided grin as he holds up a loaf of bread. stanley gently pushes past him and disappears into the brush.

"well, i, for one, would like three," richie replies, slapping his thighs as he stands.

eddie mumbles a word or two about richie being "as selfish as ever", and makes his way to mike also. beverly is a bit quiet, and bill chooses to sit beside her; his hands fall to his knees, rubbing them subconsciously.

"u-um, you didn't do a-anything wrong," he says, aware of the deep concentration beverly has. he can usually tell when everyone is upset or has something on their mind. "she's j-just been a l-little self conscious lately."

"please," beverly whispers, lifting her head to the sky, "i can tell she's been different around me. i must have said something to offend her. i should apologize—"

beverly pulls herself up, dusts off her legs, and is yanked down by bill's shaky hand.

"d-d-don't—" when the girl steadies, he continues, "let them b-b-be. if y-you really did s-something to h-hurt her, s-s-stanley will f-find out. trust him."

the greenery is exceedingly massive— miles and miles of towering woodland, filtering in streams of sunlight, rocky terrain around every trunk. you find yourself breathing heavily while seated on a boulder that is tucked away behind a ledge, facing the opposite way of the opening that your friends are at. elbows pressed into your knees, you put your face in your hands.

the air is tightening around your throat, and your uneven breaths become wheezes. you fist your hair in frustration, and smooth it down seconds after. this turns into a cycle, as you calm your wild nerves. fuck. are you allowed to think of her like that? you inhale deeply, the scent of soil filling your senses.

twigs crack in the distance, rapidly approaching feet obliterating the silence that has so graciously aided you in your toxic thoughts. you run your hands through your hair, and then fist a handful at the scalp. you smooth it out tenderly. when the footsteps are extremely close, slow down their pace, and stop entirely, you squeeze your eyes shut.

"go the fuck away, bill, i don't need your lect—" you bark, waving him away, but are cut off by long arms wrapping around your neck. your anxiety washes away, but you make no effort to embrace them in turn. your hands become fists, with no fabric of a shirt to grasp. you don't notice the tears racing down your face until your eyes and cheeks burn furiously, and your throat is caught up in sobs. when you peek, the sight of stanley's dusty curls in your peripheral sends waves of numbness and comfort over your skin.

your thoughts become hazy once you've lain your head against the bone of stanley's bare shoulder, and you feel a weight on your body lift from you— and transfer to him.

you swear you can hear faint whispering, voice cracked and vulnerable: "it's okay, it's okay, it's okay."

the part that leaves you aching for days in the future, is that you're not sure he was talking to you.

➳ i hope you liked it! it's a bit short but idc cuz i'm tired.