#jaeden lieberher oneshot

[evereinefaust]

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ 𝐎𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝𝐬 ࿐ྂ

Pairing: Jaeden Lieberher/Martell X afab!Reader

Synopsis: MC hadn't experienced happiness as often in recent years. The only sanctuary that she had was that one time she watched a movie and fell in love with the main character. And after a fateful meeting with that actor, reality finally dawned on her.

Word Count: 2,690

I groaned as the sun's rays invaded my room through the windows. I really hate it when the light shines down my closed eyes, it makes it harder to sleep. Though I know that I have to wake up and do my usual shit. I rubbed my eyes and tried to remove the sleep while I propped my elbows on the mattress to lift my upper body. I can hear the birds singing and the noisy people outside. It's just another usual day in my hometown. 

After stretching my body, I got off the bed. I went over to my closet to pick my clothes for today which were white, long-sleeved, off-shoulder, cropped top with a black bunny design, a black sleeveless shirt underneath it, a high-waist, black, flared skirt, and lastly, black heels. I planned on eating breakfast outside since I'm too lazy to make something to eat for today. My parents are very busy this week and are barely home. I didn't let it get to me though, considering how distant I am from them, I'm already used to being alone most of the time. 

I closed my closet and with the clothes in my arms, I went to the bath to do my usual stuff. After 30 minutes of preparation, I then went out of my house and walked towards the nearest Starbucks in town. My eyes scanned over my usual surroundings and admired nature. Every time I decided to take a walk outside, I always brought my journal and sketchbook. It is my only way to escape from reality, after all.

A sigh escaped my lips as I slowed my steps, letting my gaze fall onto the concrete sidewalk. I don't usually let loneliness get to me, but there are really times that I can't help but feel depressed. I let my mind wander off for a bit as I continued my walk down the town, my legs automatically moved to where Starbucks is. I was pretty sure that I was nearing the cafe so I returned my gaze up, only to have my eyes widen in shock.

I am utterly surprised by what I saw — or rather, who I saw. That brown hair. Those green eyes. He is here. Exiting the same Starbucks that I was about to go in. Unconsciously, my feet dragged my body towards him. He was about to leave and I practically ran towards him.

"Excuse me," I gently tapped the male on his shoulder.

The boy turned around to look at me. Shit, he is too handsome. I saw that he was surprised but nevertheless smiled at me.

"Hi, what can I help you with?"

Honestly speaking, I can't believe why I haven't fainted yet. My heart was rapidly beating against my ribcage, my face was flushed due to nervousness and I could feel my whole body heating up. You could even say that I'm blushing right now. I mean, who wouldn't? The one and only Jaeden Lieberher is here, standing in front of my very eyes. His gentle smile sent butterflies fluttering in the pits of my stomach and I could literally melt from his gaze.

"U-um..."

Shit. I can't believe I stuttered in front of my idol.

"You're Jaeden Lieberher, right?" I asked, even though I already knew it.

Call me crazy but I just wanted to make sure my crush and idol was really standing in front of me, not just any person looking similar to him.

Jaeden nodded. Thank god it's really him.

"Um... I'm a fan and I was wondering if I could have a picture with you?" I let my gaze downwards, feeling embarrassed to even ask him such a request.

I was pretty sure that he would decline my request. I mean, he is a famous actor and thousands of thousands of fans out there also want to take a picture with him. A lot of people wanted to meet their favorite idols in real life and I am lucky enough to be able to spot him here in my hometown. Even though it is just a simple request, I'm pretty sure that he is too busy to fulfill my stupid request.

Ugh! I'm so annoyed with myself! Geez, [Name]! You're already lucky to even spot Jaeden in your hometown, yet you still took the liberty to disturb him in his daily life. He has better things to do rather than entertain you, you stupid! I was so busy reprimanding myself that I didn't realize that Jaeden was speaking to me. I snapped out of my short trance and glanced back at him, my cheeks blushing in embarrassment.

"Huh? I'm sorry, can you repeat what you said?" I feel so awkward. If Jaeden wasn't here I would face-palm due to my stupidity.

The brunette just chuckled. "I said, sure. I won't mind having a picture with you."

My heart skipped a beat yet again. I can feel myself smiling a bit despite being in such a confounded state. My hand instantly fished out my phone from my small sling bag. I opened the device and switched to the camera. While I held the phone up, Jaeden scooted a bit at my side, making our arms brush against each other. This unexpected outcome made me even more flustered. And that's not all! Jaeden offered to take the picture instead!

I pursed my lips, trying to fight the urge to hug the boy and calm myself down. I know that I'm being a bit unsettled, but who wouldn't be when in the presence of their favorite idol? Anyways, Jaeden lifted the phone up and adjusted himself so that we could fit in the screen properly. He rested his hand on my other shoulder as he neared his face to mine, our cheeks almost touching. I tried to contain my huge smile and retain a calm exterior, despite having internal chaos within me.

I clenched my heart, hoping that it would somehow make my heartbeat slow down. After three consecutive shots, Jaeden returned my phone and I instantly thanked him for fulfilling my request. Even though I knew that this meeting was purely coincidental, I still believed that it was fate that made us meet.

I scanned the pictures Jaeden took and a smile etched on my face. "These photos are great... Thanks again."

"It's no problem."

Though, as soon as he said that, my smile turned into a frown. I can't help but think about today. Sure, I meet my idol and have a picture with him. A part of me says that this interaction is enough, however, the other argues that I should spend more time with him. You know, cherish the moment. After all, don't let an opportunity slip past you. If you don't take the chances given to you, it might never return and you might regret it.

I stood there for a while, staring at the screen and clenching my sketchpad with my other hand. I can see my reflection through the glass screen. My eyes contained sadness that I never once knew I had. My lips sported that same frown I always wear every day. It just... hurts.

"Hey," a soft voice broke my trance.

"Huh?" I whipped my head back to the speaker, and surprisingly, it was still Jaeden.

I thought that he would leave by now. But recalling our last conversation, I really didn't bid him goodbye. He must've waited for me to say it so he could go. Though I thought he would be the one to initiate that, especially if he's busy and wanted to avoid another fan. Maybe he's too shy to do so, who knows...

"I realized that you were holding a sketchbook earlier. If you want, I can give you an autograph," he offered, sending me a shy smile as he scratched his temple a bit.

Jaeden really does melt my heart. Not only he was good-looking and talented, but he also had a sweet personality. This is one reason why I started to admire the boy.

I nodded to his reply, handing him the sketchbook in my right hand. My eyes watched as the brunette opened the pages and stopped at a blank one. He got out a black marker from his pocket and started writing his autograph. As I waited, my eyes were subconsciously stealing glances at the boy. I can't help it. He's just... something.

"Here you go," the male handed me back the sketchbook.

I smiled. "Thanks again, Jaeden. It's really kind of you to offer an autograph and answer my humble request. I appreciate it."

"You're welcome," he returned the smile with his own. "It's nice meeting you here. I hope your day will be great. I'll be going now. Goodbye."

"Bye," I waved as the figure of my idol walked away.

I remained in my spot. My hand clenched the sketchbook on my quick beating heart which eventually slowed down. My whole face was regaining back its normal color and my temperature wasn't that warm anymore. My eyes were glued to the direction Jaeden left. Another minute had passed and I let out a tired sigh.

I scolded myself for wasting my time outside the cafe and decided to return back to the routine. The bells chimed as I entered Starbucks. The female behind the cashier greeted me and even told me a great job. I just politely smiled at her. I knew that she was observing us from the inside. It was kind of awkward when I realized it. But nevertheless, what is done is done. I can't contemplate it any longer.

I went to the counter and ordered my usual breakfast, paid for it, and seated myself next to the windows. I placed my sketchpad down and fished out my journal from my bag. My eyes scanned the cover, glossing over the leather with my favorite color in it. With a defeated sigh, I opened the journal. I’ve gone through each written page, each containing my thoughts, troubles, and desperation.

Desperation is mostly brought by my secluded fantasy for a specific male. I was never a fan of any idols, to be honest, however, Jaeden was the only exception. There was something about that boy that drove me crazy. It’s funny, actually, since I’ve only seen him two times. The first was in the movie The Book of Henry and the second was the best-selling movie IT. Other than that, I’ve never seen him almost anywhere. And ever since watching those movies, I’ve started to gain interest in him.

“Ugh…” an annoyed groan escaped my lips. I clicked my tongue in annoyance and slowly brought my head down on the wooden table, closing my eyes as I did so. “What’s wrong with me?”

“Here’s your order, miss,” I heard the clank of a cup against the table followed by a plate.

I quickly regained my composure and smiled at the same lady from earlier before she went back to her spot behind the counter. Maybe some nice beverage would calm my nerves down. I picked the cup up and put it in front of my lips. With a few air blows on the hot liquid, I took a sip from it. I felt the liquid travel down my throat and it calmed me down. After placing the cup back on the saucer, I proceeded to write down today’s journal entry.

March 13, 20xx

When was the last time I felt happy? I actually can’t remember anymore… With this life of mine, there was nothing else really happening. Everything is just monotonous. My routine, my environment, my school… heck! I can’t even seem to remember when I last bonded with my parents! They were always so busy with their work that they completely forgot about me. I don’t know anymore. I’m not particularly sad, I’m just…what do you call it? Yeah, right. Empty. It’s like there was something incomplete in my life. There was no excitement, no sparks. This had gone on for many years now, and I would admit that I was used to it.

I smiled bitterly at the memories of when I was always alone at home, my parents rarely came home for dinner or family time together. It was just only me in our house. Nothing more.

However, despite the darkness, there was light. It was dim and distant, but still… it’s light. After many years, I felt somehow…alive. Hopeful. Call me stupid, but… he was my hope. I found sanctuary in Jaeden. I know that I’ve only seen him in movies, but still…! Ugh! Explaining my feelings before wasn’t that difficult. Why is it difficult to express myself now?! Of all times, why now? Ugh… anyways…

My lips were pursed together in annoyance. I paused for a while, letting my pen down on the paper. My feelings were completely jumbled. I don't want to continue writing like an idiot without any proper idea after all. I took a moment to observe the surroundings outside before continuing on. It works for me to think straight.

Jaeden…he… He’s kind and friendly, albeit shy. I felt like I was in a whole new world when I was with him. Meeting him was fate. I wouldn’t admit that it was just a coincidence. No. I wouldn’t accept that. My heart was beating uncontrollably fast when speaking to him. My body was sweating bullets when near him. My face was blushing when we were seeing eye to eye. It was just…wonderful. It was like I was in a fantasy. My fantasy.

Not only that, when I first saw him, I felt like I had a purpose in life. His acting skills inspired me. It was like I was drawn to him. I know that I’m a loner and only good at drawing, but…it doesn’t hurt to try…right? After watching him in movies and observing him on his blogs, I had this sudden urge to experience being with him. He had made friends. Great friends. While I… I’m just a loner. Whenever I think about him, my life seems to become better. My spirits were lifted like he was the cure. 

I didn't realize the smile etched on my face as I wrote this. 

I was so ecstatic that I didn’t want to wake up. It felt like a dream. A wondrous dream. But…dreams don’t last. Just like always, we have to wake up. Despite having him as an inspiration, my insecurities are still killing me. I had no talent for acting. I’m not good with people. I am shy. I am awkward. I’m…. helpless. Just by looking at us, the answer was very obvious.

Though, as soon as it was, my smile transformed again into a frown. 

There is no way for me to stand in the same podium as he is. I have no rights. I’m just a petty commoner. He’s a great actor. I have no friends. He had tons. I am talent-less. He is brilliant. And so on and so forth. The differences are just many. Our gap is too big. While he shines in the light, I am here, watching him from the darkness. He is so far away that all I can do is look up to him. I can’t seem to reach him at all.

I let out a defeated sigh, pausing for a bit. I twirled the pen in between my fingers as I let my gaze fall onto the scenery outside. It was such a wonderful day today. The skies were blue, there were some white, fluffy clouds drifting through the horizon, the trees were swaying softly, the fallen leaves were floating, and the citizens were going on their daily tasks. My eyes gradually softened and tears quietly cascaded down my cheeks.

Maybe it’s better if I should give up… After all, we live in opposite worlds.

[hangjie]

masterpiece. [ bill denbrough ]

summary: bill draws pictures of reader, even though they’ve never talked before

warnings: one swear word

word count: 1,003

author’s note: a short imagine for y’all bc this is my first time writing about my billy boy!! idk why but the gif is so satisfying to me?? idk ‘bout y'all tho. this is an original imagine and not from my wattpad acc ayeeee!!

this is set in bill’s pov btw!

(y/h/c) - your hair color

(y/e/c) - your eye color

─── • ° *｡✧ ───

there she was.

she sat on her desk, her (y/h/c) hair sitting on top of her shoulders, her elbow prompted on top of the desk and her head placed on top of her palm as she listened attentively to the teacher.

she’s beautiful, no doubt.

i sketched the curves of her face and looked back at her then drew some more, trying to make it as realistic as i can, though her beauty can’t be compared to a drawing.

as soon as i was finished, i placed my pencil down and held my sketchbook in my hands, staring at my work. it’s good, but she’s better.

the school bell rings, indicating the end of class. the teacher tells us about our homework as we pack up our things and head for our next class. i put the notebooks and books i need for my next class inside my bag and i just held the ones that i don’t need, including my sketchbook.

i was the last to leave and i was greeted by the chaos and noise of the hallway. people were running around, some were skating, and so much more.

i looked around and tried to spot my friends, immediately seeing the curly light brown hair of my best friend, stan. i was about to call them, but they obliviously walk away from my sight. i sighed and speed walk, trying to catch up to them.

i was too focused catching up to my friends that i didn’t notice passing by the bowers’ gang and henry smirking as he placed his foot in the way, making me trip and fall to the ground.

i dropped my things and grunted as the bowers’ gang laughed at my fall. i stand up quickly and was about to fire something back at henry and his goons, but i hear someone shout henry’s name.

“hey! leave him alone!” i hear someone say and i look to see her, glaring at henry. henry scoffs and smirks at her, raising an eyebrow. “yeah? what are you gonna do about it?”

all of a sudden, she grips the collar of henry’s shirt and pushes him against the locker with a great amount of force, looking at him with rage in her eyes. henry looks at her with shock and his goons try to break them apart, but as soon as she looked at them with a death glare, they freeze and slowly backed away.

henry tries to break free from her, but her grip on his collar was so tight and strong that her knuckles were turning white.

“what the fuck?! let me go!”

she leans in towards him and says with gritted teeth, “don’t make me repeat myself. leave him alone or else i’ll get my dad to tell your dad about the bullshit that you’ve been doing.” (a/n: just to be clear: reader is the daughter of henry’s dad’ s best friend hehe)

henry’s eyes go wide when she mentions about his dad. “okay! okay! i’ll leave him alone!” she finally lets go of him and he scurries off with his goons following him behind.

she turns to me with a soft smile, making my breath hitch in my throat. “hey, i’m so sorry that they were bothering you. you okay?”

“y-y-y-y-yeah,” i manage to say, my stutter becoming worse.

she bends down to the ground and picks up my things. i froze in place, shocked that a beautiful girl like her was helping and talking to me. i broke from my frozen state when i hear her chuckle when she picks up my sketchbook which was coincidentally opened on my drawing of her.

i quickly snatch my sketchbook, feeling my cheeks burn with embarrassment. she gets up and gives me back my things and i thank her, shyly. it was obvious that she was holding back a laugh and it irks me that i embarrassed myself on our first time talking with each other.

she lingers with the same cheeky smile she has on her face and says, “mind if i see that drawing of me again?”. my eyes go wide with shock and i try to say something back, but all that comes out of my mouth were inaudible mutters of panic. “c’mon, i won’t judge you. i appreciate you noticing my beauty.” she flips her hair sassily, making me chuckle a bit.

a million thoughts kept running in my mind that it was a bad idea to show her the drawing and i feel the panic and fear rise inside of me, but despite all the bad thoughts, there was something inside of me telling me that it could be an opportunity for something.

i hesitantly flipped through my sketchbook and stopped at the drawing of her. she stands closer to me and stares in awe at the drawing. while she was admiring the drawing, i was admiring her.

her (y/e/c) eyes evident with happiness, fascination, and curiousity as to why someone drew a portrait of her. her soft and delicate fingers tracing the lines of the pencil, making some of the pencil lead smear on to her fingers.

i can’t believe that she was pressed up against me, looking at my drawing of her without any judgement or embarrassment.

“it’s a masterpiece,” she says, softly. she backs away from me and chuckled. “i want to learn how to draw like that. do you mind teaching me?”

“n-no, n-n-n-not at all.”

i smile as she grabs a piece of paper and pen from her bag and writes down her number. as soon she was done, she rips the paper and gives it to me.

“call me when you’re free, okay?” i nod and hold back the smile that was growing. we bid each other goodbye and walked away. as soon as my back was turned, i fist-bumped the air in excitement and exclaimed a victorious ‘yes!’.

i hear someone call my name and i turned around to see my friends walking towards me. i smile and approach them, excited to tell them about my rather convenient experience that happened just a minute ago.

MASTERLIST

[good-doctor-imagine]

Wingman (Bill Denbrough)

Pairing: Bill Denbrough x Fem!Reader

Prompt(s): A86. “Because you’re so young.” / B43. “We’re friends, you can tell me anything.” from @swanimagines​’s prompt list [xxx]

Summary: Georgie seems too young to know anything about love but that doesn’t mean he can’t be his big brother’s wingman.

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: I’m sorry if this one is a bit different from normal. I’m trying to get back into writing and for some reason I felt out of my element while writing this one.

Your hand swung side to side as you waved back at your friends. Behind you, Bill offered a sheepish smile to his friends, fiddling with the house key in his hand as he walked to the front door. After saying goodbye to your friends, you turned around and followed closely behind Bill, rocking on your heels as he messed with the keys.

A few moments of struggling later, you two were able to step foot in the house. Your shoulders relaxed at the familiar atmosphere. You'd known Bill for a long time since both of you were in kindergarten. His house was not something new to you, you had plenty of playdates as a kid and every summer you would spend practically every weekend in his house.

"(Y/n)!" Georgie came running down the stairs, a wide smile plastered on his face. Your hands shook a little as you extended your arms towards him out of worry. Thinking you were offering a hug, Georgie only ran faster and jumped into your arms as soon as he made it to the entrance.

You let out a surprised noise as you were pushed back a bit from the young boy's strength. It was a bit shocking realizing how much Georgie had grown up.

"Georgie, you scared me," You sighed, wrapping your arms around him and giving him a squeeze. "You shouldn't run down the stairs with socks on."

Georgie separated from you and shook his head, playfully pouting at your scolding. In response, you ruffled his hair, making him laugh.

"Why do you like (Y/n) doing that but not me?" Bill questioned, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Because it's (Y/n)," Georgie simply shrugged before running off into the living room.

"I don't get why he likes you more, I'm his brother," Bill grumbled, sending you a fake glare.

You smiled at him and raised your hand, extending your arm towards Bill's head. "Oh, I'm sorry," You grinned mischievously, "Were you jealous? Did you want me to mess with your hair too?"

Bill's eyes widened as he dodged your hand, feet scurrying into the living room to get away from you. Laughing, you followed him, leaning over the sofa to ruffle his hair. Bill frowned and quickly grabbed the throw pillow sitting on the couch next to him. You didn't get much time to react before he swung the pillow and hit you straight in the face.

You stumbled back, a hand covering the side of your head. Bill dropped the pillow and immediately ran towards you, waving his hands around frantically. "Sorry! I'm sorry I thought you would dodge it!"

You chuckled at your friend and hit his arm, sending him a smile. Bill's shoulders dropped at your gesture and an embarrassed smile replaced his panicked expression.

"(Y/n), are you staying the night?" Georgie asked from the sofa.

"No." Georgie frowned and sunk into the couch slightly. "But I am staying for dinner. I'm leaving when your parents get back."

"Then can we watch a movie before dinner?" Georgie gazed at the two of you with puppy dog eyes.

You smiled at him and looked over at Bill. Bill grumbled and walked off, heading to the basement to grab their box of DVDs.

As Bill took his time searching for the DVDs, you took a seat next to Georgie, relaxing into the cushions of the sofa. When Bill disappeared into the basement, Georgie leaned over to whisper in your ear.

"Why are you being weird around Billy?"

Your heart froze for a second as you struggled to respond. How did his little brother even notice anything?

"Ah, it's nothing..." You responded, keeping your eyes on the TV to avoid eye contact.

"We're friends, you can tell me anything," Georgie added, leaning in front of you so you couldn't avoid his gaze.

"No, I can't."

"Why?"

"Because you're so young," You rolled your eyes, once again reaching out to mess with his hair.

This time, Georgie dodged your hand and shook his head at you. "I'm six," He defended.

"Exactly." Georgie angrily sunk into the couch, turning his head away from you. Sighing, you leaned towards him. "Sorry, Georgie. I will tell you some other time, okay?"

Georgie grumpily turned back, arms crossed in front of his chest. You had to keep yourself from laughing at the resemblance the two brothers had.

"I'm back," Bill announced, closing the basement door with his foot. "Pick the movie, Georgie."

•••

The movie was a bit awkward, to say the least. You sat between the two brothers, Georgie curled into your side as Bill fidgeted next to you every few minutes. Whenever Bill would move closer to you, Georgie would pull you towards him. By the end of the movie, Georgie was practically sat on your lap. Bill had given up, jaw clenched as he stared at the screen. Anyone could tell he was upset. His brother was supposed to be his wingman, after all.

When the credits started rolling, you stretched slightly, trying not to disturb Georgie as he slept.

"I'll order pizza." Bill shot up from the sofa and sped to the kitchen, his face red as he passed by you.

You watched as Bill strode out of the room, obviously not in the greatest mood. You bit your lip as your mind wandered to what your friends told you yesterday.

"You should just tell him," Beverly stated simply as if it wasn't a big deal.

"Wha– no!" You dismissed her idea, "That is not what I should do."

"Come on," Richie rolled his eyes, "As if he'd say no. Big Bill is practically whipped for you."

"That's not true," You shot at him, "Bill only thinks of me as his friend. We've known each other for a long time."

Richie dragged his palm down his face and groaned, tired of your excuses. Beverly shook her head at your words.

"Which is why you should tell him," Eddie joined in, "Bill understands you more than anyone, right?" You nodded. "Then he should understand."

"Ugh," You complained quietly, rubbing your forehead to relieve your headache.

"(Y/n)?"

The quiet voice made you jump slightly. "Yeah?"

"Do you like my brother?"

"Georgie!" Your voice rose, panic beginning to kick in. "Why would you say that?"

Georgie grinned sleepily at your reaction. "Y'know, Bill won't stop talking about you."

Your heart froze for a moment. "Really?"

"Mhm!" Georgie enthusiastically nodded, "I don't really get it, I think girls have cooties."

You looked down at him, noticing he was still curled into your side. "You think I have cooties?" You playfully asked, hands coming to his sides.

"Well, you're a girl, aren't you?"

As soon as he answered, you moved your fingers along his sides, making him squeal.

"Aha!" Georgie started laughing hysterically from your sudden tickle attack.

"Take it back!" You yelled jokingly, your smile widening.

"I'm sorry! You don't have cooties! You don't have cooties!"

"That's what I thought," You chuckled, standing up from the couch.

Georgie took a few seconds to catch his breath. By the time he calmed down, Bill entered the room, looking between the two of you.

"I heard yelling?"

You smiled over at Georgie before turning back to Bill.

"It was nothi–"

"I told (Y/n) you have a crush on her."

Bill's eyes blown wide at his brother's statement. The smile that was on your face disappeared when you processed his words.

"Y-You did w-what?" Bill stuttered, his face turning completely red as he stared at Georgie.

Georgie smiled mischievously as he pointed at you. "And (Y/n) said she has a crush on you too!"

Your throat went dry as your hands shook. You didn't say that, but it wasn't like Georgie was wrong.

"G-Georgie," Bill gritted his teeth, taking steps toward his brother.

"I'm going to my room!" Georgie giggled, running around the couch and sprinting up to his room to avoid his big brother's wrath.

The room was silent when Georgie left, leaving you and Bill alone together.

"Well, this isn't how I expected this to go," You rubbed the back of your head as you tried to swallow down your embarrassment.

"You really like me?" Bill questioned.

You looked at him. Surprisingly, all of the anger he had a few seconds ago disappeared as he stared at you. Instead, it was replaced with longingness and fear.

"I mean," You stumbled with your words, "Yeah, I do like you."

Bill's face once again bloomed red at your words. He coughed nervously and covered the bottom half of his face with his hands.

"I like you too."

Despite how tense the situation was, you laughed at Bill's confession. "I kind of figured that after what Georgie said."

"Shut up," Bill mumbled, hanging his head.

When your laughs died down, Bill rose his head and walked towards you, pushing his lips.

"Do you maybe want to go on a date with me sometime?" Bill asked quietly.

"I'd love to," You responded, your chest fluttering at his words. Was this even real?

"Cool," Bill nodded. It was silent for a few more seconds before both of you started to laugh.

"Georgie is really smart for his age," You wiped the tears that pooled in the corner of your eyes.

"He can't keep secrets," Bill protested but a wide smile was still on his face.

"Obviously not," You shook your head. "But maybe that's for the best."

[m6ttsturniolo]

i can imagine richie playing at the arcade and a boy (possibly eddie or someone richie found attractive) says “hey can i play” and accidentally touches richies hand once it lets go of the joystick. i can picture him getting butterflies, jumping and walking away with his heart racing, not knowing or liking the feeling he felt. he visits the arcade as an adult, replaying the memory.

[gone-cotta]

It’s Okay to be Broken Richie Tozier x Reader

Warnings: Abusive parents, cussing

Hey,  you also have a brother in this :)

Requested: NOPE, but I would appreciate requests since I LITERALLY HAVE NO BRAIN AND CAN’T COME UP WITH GOOD IDEAS (note: this is my idea, I’m not taking someone else’s, its just based on my personal life and I think its kinda crappy)

Summary: Richie’s parents aren’t the best...everyone in the Loser’s club knows that. You find yourself an outlet for his rage, a way for him to voice his thoughts, opinions, and rant about them. You don’t mind at all. In fact, you find it strangely nice in a way to be alone with this boy, the real Richie. The one who isn’t contantly making innaproptirate jokes and trying to show off. However, he catches something going on in your life that makes him wonder; Why had he told you so much when you haven’t brought up your issues?

You found yourself with alone with Richie again, watching the sun set from the edge of the quarry. The two of you had spent many days like this, talking through personal issues, confiding in each other to keep the secret.

Today, it was yet another of Richie’s dilemmas. His father, a man of 40 who possesed a commanding aura, had kicked Richie out for the day, again. The boy had arrived at the quarry with the rest of the other Losers, a frustrated grimace on his face. But as soon as he came within a few feet of them, he put on his mask.

Richie Tozier had on a mask. An ‘Its-Okay-I’m-Alright’ type of mask that he wore almost every moment of every day. The mask that joked, laughed, and teased. Nobody knew the boy under the mask. Nobody except you. 

You two sat on the thick trunk of a fallen tree, one arm around Richie’s shoulder, as the boy leaned into you. You were both silent, looking out over the edge of the quarry at the calm water below. Richie’s hair was ruffled and damp from swimming earlier, looking as fluffy as ever. You inhaled deeply, taking in the surroundings. 

“I just don’t get it. Why would they decide to have a kid, and then treat me like this?” Richie groaned, and you sighed. 

“Bad things happen to good people all the time, Rich. It sucks ass, but in the end, we all find a way to deal with it” you murmur, and close you eyes. The boy grumbled something under his breath before falling silent once more. Today had been particularly rough for him, and you knew it would be best to let him get out what he had to say. You said nothing.

A sudden breeze whisked across the clifftop, and you drew your arm away from Richie to grab your sweater, which lay discarded beside you. You wrapped it around yourself, glancing around. 

“How late is it Richie?” you asked, and the boy glanced at his watch. 

“Uhhh...7:43 I think” He said, blue eyes flickering down to his pale wrist. You cursed, standing up and brushing yourself off. 

“Shit. I’m supposed to be home by 8″ You groaned, and Richie glanced up at you. 

“Are you gonna get in trouble?” He asked warily, and you nodded before catching sight of his face. A troubled expression had found its way onto his face, his eyes dark behind the smudged lenses of his glasses.

“Nothing serious, nothing serious!” You amended. “What about you? Are you able to get home by now?” 

While you knew most everything that went on in the bespectacled boy’s life, he knew close to nothing about yours. He knew you had strict parents, who would get you int trouble and were fiercely ‘overprotective’, as you liked to say. But other than that, most of your evening together were spent talking about him. It was nice, and you didn’t mind it the slightest. You just thought that Richie had enough going on without worrying about your issues.

“Yeah. If not, I’ll go to Ed’s house or something. Maybe if I’m gone until tomorrow my dad will forget he was mad at me at all” Richie said with a bitter laugh, and you groaned, shaking your head at the boy. 

“’Chee, things will get better alright? I’ll make sure of it” You comforted, and the pair of you began through the undergrowth, towards the area where the ended. Scuffing the dry earth with the toe of your sneaker, you pushed passed the thick trees. Emerging into the clearing, you looked back at Richie.

The lanky boy shot you a half-grin, turning towards Jackson Street where he would turn onto Wickham Road, on his way home. “See you tomorrow, Y/n!” He called, and you smiled. “Thanks for...today...making me feel better” 

“No problem Richie. I don’t mind it” you reply, as the boy begins to disappear into the darkening night. You turn around just as his voice echoes out of the dark one last time. The faint echo of Richie’s laughter.

“Maybe tomorrow you can meke me feel even better...” 

You rolled you eyes at the flirty remark, and it was only later as you walked the dark, deserted streets of Derry, that you realized he had once again put on his mask.

~

“Y/n, howabout you actually help out?” Your father said sharply, as you stuggled to fold a large sheet. You huffed in annoyance, before throwing the sheet back into the basket in frustration.

“Wha-What do you think you’re doing?” He asked, wide eyes and a voice filled with quiet anger. 

“I can’t fold it! I can’t! It’s 4 times my size, and not even my sheet” You said, and your father got closer. You had been folding laundry on the table for the past 2 hours, and your legs ached from standing, putting you in an awful mood. Your father however, didn’t seem to understand.

“So I’ll teach you how” He said, cutting across you with a thick arm to snatch the sheet. You groaned, looking up at the ceiling. “Come on. Grab that end, now” He said, and you loosely held the end.

Later, after finishing your entire basket of laundry you turned back to your dad. “I’m done. Can I go sit down now?” You asked, gesturing to the array of clothes folded in the counter in front of you. Your dad scoffed, turning to you as he set a folded shirt down in the neat pile he had created.

“No way. You’ve barely done anything. We’ve done all the work” He said, and your brother looked at your from beside him with wide eyes. He shrugged his shoulders in a helpless sort of gesture, and you gaped at your dad.

“What? I did an entire basket!” You exclaim, eyes wide. 

“So? Start helping”

You turned furiously to the nearly empty basket they were working on, and your dad handed you a sheet. You fumbled with it for a minute, struggling as you tried to hold back tears of anger and weariness.

“I can’t! I’ve been working since 10:50. It’s almost 2:00, and I’ve been standing the whole time” You burst out, as the sheet grew into a small messy ball in your hands. Your dad turned to face you. ���And? Look at your brother, he’s doing his work! Why can’t you be more like him” Your father grumbled, taking a step closer.

“Well, he was literally sitting down and playing 30 minutes ago! I’ve been standing the past, like, 3 hours folding these damn clothes” You burst out, unable to contain your frustration. Your dad turned to you with a livid look etched upon his face. 

“He’s two years younger than you Y/N! I’ve said it a million times!” He said, and dropped the pair of jeans he was holding ont othe counter to take a step towards you. You took a deep breath.

“You’ve been saying that forever. When I was his age, I had to do all the same stuff I’m doing now, and he was doing less and less”

Your dad slammed a fist down on the counter, and your brother flinched from behind him. You, however, held his angry gaze with equally upset eyes. “Watch how you talk to me. Show some respect” he growled in a low voice.

“respect? You literally treat me like dirt half the time I’m at home! Why do I need to treat someone with respect, when they don’t respect me?” You said, before your father moved forwards suddenly so his face was inches from your own.

You moved backwards slightly as he yelled at you, spit flying from his mouth. “fuck. I’m your dad, Y/n, not your friend. You can’t talk to me like that. I give you whatever you want. Whenever you want to hang out with your friends at the quarry, I say yes. I give you money to go eat ice cream with Bev and the other girls-”

“Boys, Dad. The others are all boys. Me and Beverly are the only two girls” You cut across him. You knew you would get in trouble for this, and in doin so you would be able to prove a point. 

Your father froze, his eyes blank. He looked as if you had slapped him, before his eyes narrowed. “What?”

“You heard me”

“So you’ve been lying this whole time?” He hissed, his face growing redder by the second. 

“It’s not lying if you never asked. And if I had told you, you wouldn’t have let me hang out with them” You added, before stepping back.

“You’re DAMN right! Now, you need to start talking in a respectful tone before-”

“I’ll start treating you with respect when you start acting like my parent”

Silence. Like the calm before a storm. You stood defiantly, chin tilted up as you stared at your father with blazing eyes. He seemed to not know what to do for a moment, but then changed, a look unlike any other appearing on his face.

“Go to your room. Now. I’m getting the belt” 

“What? No!”

You backed up, and your father reached to his shorts to start undoing the brown leather belt he wore. Your eyes widened. Not again.

“Y/n. Now. You need to learn how to treat me with respect” he said in a frighteningly calm voice, pulling the belt through the last loop and examining it in his rough hands.

“No!” You let out a scream, before turning and running through the door. Running through the hall, you reached your bedroom and grabbed your bag. It was a small pink backpack, succeeding in cuteness more than than storage, but you kept your most important belongings in it. Wallet, keys, and other small emergency items.

Grabbing it, you threw it over one shoulder before you heard your fathers angry steps echoing through the hall. You ran over to the door, slamming it and flipping the small chain lock. A second later, you flinched backwards as he began pounding on the door, shaking the walls.

“Y/n. Let me in. It only gets worse for you” He yelled, and you felt your eyes well with tears, taking steps back.

You shouldn’t be scared of upsetting them. You shouldn’t be scared of them going through your things. You shouldn’t feel like you’re trapped and wanting to go home while you’re sitting in my living room. You shouldn’t be like this. 

Sliding against the opposite wall, you curled into a small ball on the floor. Sobs began to shake your body. You let out a hollow scream as he pounded the door, and a sharp crack sounded. A small metal screw, presumably one of the ones holding the lock in place, landed a few feet from you. 

“Sto-STOP!!” You yelled as the pounding continued, relentless. Just when you feared he would get in, he stopped. 

“Who’s there?” He yelled, voice sharp. You shook as you heard a distant yell from downstairs, and a moment later your fathers footsteps could be heard stomping down the stairs.

“Who the hell are you?” 

The reply sounded muffled. Or maybe your father pounding on the door had just made it seem quiet in comparison. Whoever it was, you were certain it would only cause more trouble for you. Stepping up carefully, you made sure to step slowly and quietly through the room. You had memorized which floorboards creaked a long time ago, after your parents had developed a habit of sending you to bed without dinner. That way, you could go downstairs during the night to take food from the cupboards.

Yes, you had numerous hiding spots for food scattered around the house; Behind the thick blankets in the closet, under the TV cabinet...even under your bed you kept a small cardboard box which you occasionally refilled with snacks. It wasn’t often that they did this, but it was often enough that you were prepared. Plus, if the floorboards creaked, you wouldn’t be able to hangout with the Losers psat curfew or go to sleepovers.

Peering out the hallway and looking downstairs, you caught sight of Richie, standing with a furious look on his pale face.

“What the fuck is going on?” you heard him yell. “Where’s Y/n?”

He looked up towards the entrace to the stairs, and you knew he had seen you. You made a quick motion for him to be quiet, hoping the boy would stay quiet for a minute.

“She’s in trouble. Now’s not a good time” Your father said gruffly, and made to grab Richie. The boy ducked quickly, and caught a glance at the belt which your father had attempted to hide behind his back. 

“You--you--” he stammered, and you let out an audible gasp. Your dad turned to look at you, and when you met his eyes...

He had a look of such rage in his eyes. “Go back to your room, Y/n. Now” He snapped. He used the voice he used whenever you were in trouble and your friends were near. Your chest heaving, you took a breath to attempt and calm yourself. 

“No”

Stepping down the stairs, you jumped the last few steps, running to Richie and taking his hand. “What?” Your father said menacingly, beginning to advance. He would continue, whether or not Richie was there.

“I said No!” You screeched, and took a few steps back, pulling Richie with you. The boy had a look of pure shock on his face, and you thought that if you hadn’t been pulling him he probably would be standing still.

“Get away from me!” You let out one last screech at your dad, before he lunged towards you sharply. You yanked Richie back, before turning to the open door. Stumbling, he followed, and you quite literally slipped through your fathers arms. 

He missed you by a literal second. Arms extendeded, he brushed your arm and you shivered. It was like time had slowed. His nail grazed your arm, but despite the sting you held onto Richie. He let out a bellow of rage, and you took off, Richie in tow.

You don’t look back until you reach the quarry.

Gasping and panting, you two stopped by the edge. You turned around, expecting to see him standing there, chasing and yelling at you. But he wasn’t. He was gone, and you knew you weren’t going back.

What were you going to do? You might be able to stay with Beverly. She was now living with her Aunt, who had since moved into her house with her. Her father was in Shawshank Prison, and Bev was happier than ever. You’d ask her later, since the Losers were all meeting up anyways for a movie. As you pondered what you would say, Richie’s voice sounded, tugging you back to reality.

“Okay, pardon my French, but what the fuck is going on”

~

“And then you got there, and you saw what happened. How did you get in, anyways?” You finished explaining what had happened to Richie. He sat in silence, hanging onto every word you spoke, eyes dark. You swallowed nervously, barely brave enough to look at him after all you had just told.

“Your brother let me in, but does that fucking matter? How long had this been going on?” He asked in a carefully steady voice. 

“...honestly, I can’t remember. But, it’s over now, so it’s alright” You said, attempting to smile. The wind whisked through the branches overhead, but other than that, there was silence.

“This-This whole time you’ve been listening to me. My problems. But you’ve had a whole word of your own. You listen to me talk about my parents hitting me, or kicking me out, while yours have been doing similar things. How has this never come up, Y/n?” Richie asked, his voice taunt with emotion. You inhaled shakily. It was evident that Richie was worried, upset even. His face was paler than usual, and his eyes were blank. Instead of the constant fidgeting, he was still, holding your gaze.

“I-I...I guess I didn’t want you to worry” You choked out after a minute. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well...you already had enough to worry about. And the others...I don’t talk to them about this kind of stuff too often so..I dunno I just-” You began to feel tears welling in your eyes, and Richie’s gaze softened. 

“Y/n...” he murmured, before wrapping you in a hug. 

You don’t know how long you two stayed like that, but it felt like it could have been forever. You almost wish it had been. With Richie’s hands, one on your back and the other near your waist, you felt warm despite the cool breeze. Your hands looped over his shoudlers, reaching to clasp each other behind his back. His head rested against yours, his curly hair brushing your forehead and ear.

You were certain he felt the tear that rolled down your cheek.

Pulling away, you gazed at Richie with watery eyes, contrasting the small smile playing your lips. The boy gazed at you with an unreadable expression, before reaching for you again and pulling you into a kiss.

His lips were surpisingly soft. He tasted like cigarettes and airheads, an odd but utterly intoxicating combination. Pulling closer to him, you wrapped your hands around his neck, where they buried themselves into his dark, tangled halo of curls.

Smiling against his lips, you pulled away, gazing up at Richie. “Promise me you’ll tell me if something like that ever happens again?” he mumbled, and you nodded, though you had no intention of ever going back.

“Of course” came your soft response, and Richie smiled a genuine smile. A ray of light shining through a broken person. 

“Good” he said, before pressing a light kiss to the tip of your nose. You let out a soft laugh, before wiping your damp cheek with your hand, ridding yourself of the remnants of your tears.

You two stayed close for a few more minutes, blissfully peaceful, happy even, as you stared through the bushes at the calm water below, which reflected the midday sunlight. 

A bird called from a nearby tree, its warbling lightly echoing the deserted area. Perhaps it was a dove, you thought, as you watched it fly away, loosening the leaves of the Birch tree where it had perched. You would have to ask Stan later. If the bird did one thing, it pulled you out of the small trance you had been in. 

“Come on Richie” You said softly, and grabbed his hand. He smiled at your sudden action. “We’re gonna be late to see the others. They’re gonna suspect somethings up if we take too long” You pulled him along softly, and youu two began to walk, fingers intertwined, shoulders brushing.

You may have been broken, but two broken halves make a whole.

[losersclubimagines]

“You Love Me?”

Title: “You Love Me?”

Pairing: Richie Tozier x Reader

Type: Platonic | Romantic | Familial | Other

Warnings: angst, profanity, mentions of aids, mentions of neglectful parents.

Prompt: F13: “you love me?” “You have no idea.”

Never in your life did you dream you’d fall in love with Richie Tozier.

You’d known him since your diaper days - toddling about together, plump thighs and sticky mouths, with both of your parents watching - your’s attentively, Richie’s listlessly, bored, looking as though they wanted to be anywhere other than watching their only child take his first steps.

Growing up, shared rattle toys became shared peanut-butter sandwiches or bright-coloured hairclips pilfered from your mother’s china dish. Richie loved to wear those hairclips, more than even you. He’d stick an assortment of them into his unruly web of dark curls, specks of pink and lime and chrome swathed in a brunette tide.

Richie had always been… spacey, almost. From the first time, in third grade, you could cross the road on your own (“be very careful, Y/n. Remember to look both ways, and stop and listen for any cars, and never, ever cross on a bend.”) Richie’s parents gave no such forewarning, and it was with cheery ignorance he sauntered right into the - albeit, quiet - road on Monday morning.

Your hand shot out and grabbed him by the collar in childish alarm. “What are you doing? We have to look both ways first!”

“Oh yeah,” he returned cheerfully. “I forgot.”

Brushing off your scandalised look, he pointedly craned his neck left, then right, and then took your hand in his and pulled you from the curb with no warning. You shrieked at him all the way over the asphalt, sure a car would come from nowhere and career into you. When you scrambled onto the sidewalk on the opposite side, you ripped your hand from a giggling Richie’s grasp.

“That wasn’t funny!” you said shrilly. “I told you, we have to be careful when we cross a road, else we’ll both be hit by cars!”

“What happens when you get hit by a car?” Richie countered thoughtfully, as the two of you began walking. You paused to think, chewing your lip.

“We end up flat as pancakes, and the police have to peel us off the road,” you eventually returned triumphantly, but if your aim was to deter Richie, it backfired.

“Cool! I want to be a pancake!” declared the boy enthusiastically, but you merely shot him a frosty look and dragged him through the school gates.

You were there when Richie got his glasses, and the teasing started. Sneering jibes of “four-eyes” were brushed off, kids asking how many fingers they were holding up deflected with ease. You worried for Richie, the sensitive soul that you were, but he only ever laughed about it.

You were there when his parents stopped calling when they weren’t going to come home that night. Before, it was apologetic phone calls (“Richard, sweetie, we’re so sorry, the most silly thing - your father enjoyed himself a little too much at the gathering, you know how he likes his currant wine, only we thought it best to stay at the hotel tonight.”)

You found him hunched up by the side-table where the phone stood. The house was dark and cold - the heating wasn’t on. Richie looked like he hadn’t moved in years, a statue gathering dust, huddled against the wood of the table. You flurried around, snapping the lights on, straining to reach the boiler on tiptoe and turning the dial all the way up before scooting over to Richie and crossing your legs anxiously.

“What’s wrong, Richie?” you inquired. “Where are your parents?”

A pure stab of shock flashed through you at his sudden sob. Tears dripped down his screwed-up face, and when he spoke, his voice trembled. “I don’t know.”

Eventually, after a few phone calls, it was discovered that they were in New Jersey for an open evening of his father’s business. Richie stared at you, stricken, as you solemnly recited what the lady on the phone had told you. “But why didn’t they tell me?” he whispered. You didn’t know the answer to that, so you hugged him instead. He smelled of apple suckers and loneliness.

You were there in fourth grade when Richie discarded his mismatched sweaters and jeans for bright eyesores of Hawaiin shirts and jean-shorts and colourful sneakers. He traded his thin, wiry black glasses for thick red ones that made his eyes looked three times their normal size (you noticed what a pretty brown those irises were, then). He was there when your love for rainbow ponchos and ballet skirts and bracelets with bells on them faded in favour of garish maroons and olives and navies, overalls and sandals and short-shorts. He still wore the hairclips, sometimes - the dark red one that was always his favourite. The rest he kept in a small pot under his bed, along with a photo of you and him grinning toothily in first grade, tucked safe under the velvet lid.

You were there when Henry Bowers, held back for the third year running, decked him for the first time. He called Bowers a “son of a motherless whore” - something impressive-sounding he’d overheard on TV - when he saw him laying into the tiny asthmatic kid from world history. It hadn’t ended well, and you ended up wiping the blood from his nose and lips and teeth. He smiled sheepishly as you scolded him, but his apology was real as the blood staining the tissues. And another plus - from that day, you had three new friends. Stuttering Bill and Eddie Spaghetti and Stan the Man. You five were united as outcasts, not exactly a force to be reckoned with but certainly one that required brief consideration before attempting said reckoning - or whatever.

And in fifth grade, Richie hit some sort of tipping point.

He grew louder and more foul-mouthed, more enthusiastic in his spastic movements, and far more inclined to disrupt a class or smoke in the toilets or flunk school entirely. Then the remarks filtered in - intrusive and suggestive, comments on your legs or your chest or your mom. It annoyed you to no end, but you could think of no way to make him stop. Every time you snarked him or socked him on the shoulder, it made him slightly wilder, a shit-eating grin cracking his face in two - until you remembered something you’d seen once on telly. A man and a woman, and the man talked a lot. Whenever he talked too much, the woman would press a big red button that made a loud “BEEP BEEP” sound.

So, when the next remark came - “Hey Y/n - you have any other hobbies, ‘cept for being my own personal bicycle?” - you stared him dead in the eye and countered solemnly, “beep beep, Richie.”

He gaped at you like a fish out of water, speechless for the first time in years. “Did - did you just - beep me?”

From then on, it seemed to work to shut him down.

But it wasn’t until four months ago - when Georgie went missing, and you met Bev and Mike and Ben, and IT chased normalcy from your life did things between you and Richie start to shift.

You wanted to be with him every second - he was the longest-standing memory you had, the boy with hairclips in his curls who watered your head like a flower the first day of second grade. He was the one who poked your cheeks and called you “bubs” and yanked your ponytail and drew obscene images on your hand in permanent marker. He was the one who spent 70% of his time sleeping round your house when the silence of his was unbearable, who held you sombrely when you cried and cursed at the toughest of bullies in your honour. Richie was, to say with a flair for the dramatic, your life - mapped out in dark hair and freckles and lime sneakers, your other half.

The first time you wanted to kiss him was after the blood oath.

You hissed in pain as you wiped your hands absently on your black shorts. Richie walked beside you, gazing at the jagged cut on his palm with avid interest.

“I swear you can get AIDS from doing shit like this,” Richie commented as the both of you reached your bikes discarded in the grass.

You huffed a laugh. “Probably - but don’t go telling Eddie that.”

“Please. He’d convulse and die on the spot,” Richie scoffed, swinging a leg over the leather saddle. “So, where’ll it be, sweetcheeks?”

You rolled your eyes at the nickname. “I’m kind of in the mood to not think about anything. You wanna head to the arcade?”

Two hours later, pumped up on blue-raspberry Slushies with fingers cramping from the buttons and levers you’d been busy stabbing and yanking, you and Richie sat in a greasy-spoon café, snacking out of a shared basket of cheesy fries as the sky darkened outside the window.

“What d’you think’ll happen now?” Richie asked suddenly.

“What do you mean?” You swallowed your fries, reaching for your Pepsi to wash it down.

“Now IT’s dead. Kaput, bitch. No more missing kids, no more hallucinations, no more freaky fuckin’ clowns.” Richie heaved a sigh. “Cause I don’t think everything will just magically go back to the way it was.”

“No,” you mused in agreement. “No, you’re probably right.”

“‘Cept for us,” Richie beamed suddenly. “We’re inseparable, right?”

You grinned. “You bet, Tozier. For better or for worse.”

You looked at him - skin illuminated by the softly-glowing neon lights from the sign outside, the contours of his face sharply shadowed, hair a black, untameable mess as ever - and the urge to kiss him took you so fiercely, it almost knocked you off your chair. You swallowed your mouthful of fries too quickly in your shock, and one ended up dislodged in your throat. You choked and wheezed, and Richie unhelpfully thumped you on the back until you’d swallowed the damn thing.

“Jesus Christ,” he commented. “Y/n, if you wanted something to choke on, you could’ve just asked.”

A week ago, the comment would be met with an eye-roll; now it only made a flush climb your face, and you took a long swig of your iced Pepsi to ward off the redness.

The first time you actually kissed Richie Tozier was two months later.

It was midnight, but sleep troubled you not. You sat wide-awake, flat on your back and staring up at the ceiling in the darkness, when a sudden tap like long nails on wood made you start violently. Clambering to your feet, you glanced at your window; sure enough, a second later, a pebble hit the glass pane and bounced off again, and you sighed, picking your way over and opening it wide.

“Throwing pebbles, Romeo?” you called down teasingly. Richie glared up at you.

“Can I come up?”

You jerked your head in affirmation. At this point, your parents were so used to you going to bed alone and coming down in the morning with Richie, you didn’t even have to worry.

You slid the ladder out the window until it touched solid ground, then went back to your bed. A minute later, Richie’s face appeared at your open window, and he hauled himself in with all the grace of a sack of wet concrete.

You frowned as the scents of - was that wine? Wine and perfume - wafted in after him. He was also wearing a suit - a suit - but the illusion of whatever formality he’d been going for ended at his hair; looping black curls in total disarray, a soft tide of dark hair held back by a lone red hairclip.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” you eventually managed to choke out.

“My parents are home,” he answered non-communally. “And they decided to host a fucking mixer at our house tonight. So I was forced to wear this bullshit thing -“ he plucked at the suit in disgust “-and I only just managed to get away.”

“Wow.” Your eyes caught the red hairclip glinting amongst the soft web of dark curls. “I haven’t seen that thing in years.”

His hand skittered up to trace the clip absently. “My final act of defiance,” he chuckled weakly, before sinking down to sit on the carpet with heavy shoulders and clasped hands.

“Why are they such assholes, Y/n?” he asked suddenly. “I don’t know if I mortally offended them as in infant, or some shit like that - but even if I did, I still wouldn’t know, because they don’t talk to me. I don’t get it. Why have a kid if - if you’re not gonna-“ He waved his hands around in frustration, as if he could wring some meaning from the sentence if he hit at it enough.

“I don’t know, Richie,” you sighed, sliding off the bed and scooting closer until you sat toe-to-toe with the despairing boy. “I wish - I wish I could help you.”

Finally, he looked up; the tear tracks on his face glistened faintly as he smiled - not a smirk, or a shit-eating grin - a real smile that tore a hole in his chest and let all the dully-glowing fragments of the real Richie spill out for you to see. “You already have,” he answered softly.

Your breath seemed to catch in your throat. “But there’s gotta be more I can do. Damnit, Richie, I love you, so much and it fucking kills me to see you just - just take this shit.”

Richie stared at you, stricken. “You love me?”

You scoffed lightly, your face softening. “You have no idea.”

“But…” Richie was struggling to finish a coherent sentence. “Do you love me like - like the kid the split your granola bars with in second grade or do you love me like a…” Again with the wild hand gestures. “Y’know?”

A laugh bubbled through your lips. “Who says it can’t be both?”

As he opened his mouth to retort, you covered it with yours.

It was chaste and clumsy, but the chaps on his lips felt just right against the smoothness of yours, and the squeak of surprise he made at the embrace was swallowed. You could feel the heat of his cheeks and the flutter of his eyelashes and the firm beat of his heart all in that one, fleeting moment your lips touched.

And even as you pulled back, you felt him still. He was stammering in a way that’d give Bill a run for his money, but you could only smile.

Never in your life did you dream you’d fall in love with Richie Tozier - but right now was one of the rare, blissful seconds reality was better than dreams.

[asthmaqueeneddie]

Could I get some fluffy/angsty stenbrough with "I want you"

absolutely! i’m a stozier slut tbh but i love stenbrough

three word prompt// “i want you”

bill denbrough and stan uris, despite being as unpopular as they are, are ranked quite highly on the relationship charts at derry high school. they were dating since they got to high school, and a year before that, but none of that mattered when bill made the baseball team.

it was stan who actually convinced him to try out, it had always been a passion of bill’s but he had always been too anxious to actually go out for the team. stan knew that he was a really fantastic pitcher who could throw a wicked curveball and it didn’t take long for other people to start to notice as well.

bill was never really popular but he started getting invited to team dinners and parties. he started to feel liked and that made him immensely happy. which, by association, made stan feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

but the more bill’s name was spoken over the announcements for game recaps, the more girls started to flock to him. and even though he knew it shouldn’t upset him, stan knew that bill being pansexual meant that he could lose him to just about anyone.

there was one girl in particular who stan felt the most insecure around. her name was rebecca monroe and boy was she pretty. rebecca had the silkiest red hair that stood out in the sea of brunette perms, she had the lightest shade of green with the most beautiful specks of gold peppered in her eyes, she was lean but not too tall, tan but still donned freckles, she was basically everything stan pictured himself to be in his dreams.

it started when rebecca got assigned to be stan’s lab partner in freshman biology. and then somehow managed to become his partner in chemistry the next year. stan was a reasonable guy, he didn’t get all uptight and angry over his boyfriend’s lab partner. but then the two started staying after school for projects and club meetings. and she started showing up to bill’s baseball games. she even made friends with some of the other losers.

stan held his tongue until one friday night home game. rebecca had shown up, decked out in derry high’s school colors and bill’s jersey number. she took a seat next to bev on the bleachers, unaware of the deadly look stan was casting her way. she cheered for bill the whole game, calling out his number and shouting “c’mon billy!” at every opportunity. the final straw was when rebecca actually went down to the dugout and started feeding bill m&m’s through the chain-link fence.

“fuck this shit,” stan said, gathering his belongings as he stood. “tell bill i’ll see him tomorrow. or don’t. i don’t give a shit.” this was the angriest anyone had ever seen stan, and he gets pissed off a lot.

“c’mon stan, don’t leave. the inning’s almost over. you can talk to bill when it’s done.” richie suggested, grabbing stan’s wrist as he made to leave.

“i can’t sit here and watch her drool over my boyfriend and be expected to not be upset about it. i wanna go home.” stan protested, crossing his arms. even through the thick heatwave of anger he felt bubbling in his gut, he couldn’t miss the familiar sting in his chest that made his hands go numb and his eyes water. richie gave a stan a ride home, stan sniffled and mumbled to himself the whole way.

“don’t let rebecca get to you, stanny. bill loves you, not her.” richie tried his best to be comforting in his best friend’s time of need. but once a dark thought enters stan’s mind, it’s almost impossible to get rid of.

stan had plans to stay inside for the rest of the weekend. he lost the urge to confront bill on all the tomfoolery that had been happening around them. he dodged everyone’s calls, asked his mother to cover for him when the loser’s came knocking at the door. bill was literally going crazy without seeing stan. he called richie every night to ask if he had heard anything. of course he had, he’s stan’s partner in crime, but he never said a word.

sunday night bill heard a tap at his window. this initially freaked him out because he was on the second floor, but upon inspection he saw that it was bill throwing rocks from the ground. stan begrudgingly agreed to meet him outside.

“alright, what’s the-the deal? huh? you l-leave my game early with-without so much as a ‘see you later’, you-you don’t answer my calls, you make your m-m-mom tell me you’re sick, and n-now you’re standing here looking pissed off and-and I’d really just like t-to know what the hell is going on.” bill stammered, fists clenched tightly.

“i’m so terribly sorry for leaving your baseball game early, bill. but the sight of your new girlfriend basically spoon-feeding you candy was literally making me sick.” stan spat, crossing his arms over his chest.

“this is-is about becca?” bill asked.

“oh so she’s becca now? that’s great. no really. billy and becca sitting in a tree. it’s perfect. i hope you guys have a lot of fun together.” stan turned around to head back inside but bill grabbed onto his arm and pulled him back.

“i’ve told you t-time and time again, s-stan. there’s no-nothing going on bet-between us.” bill snapped, not letting go of stan’s arm.

“and i’ve told you time and time again that she’s fucking in love with you!”  at this point, tears fell freely out of stanley’s eyes. he was so tired of having to fight for bill’s attention, tired of having to compete with miss universe for a sliver of bill’s time. stan tried to pull his arm away but it was no use, bill just kept yanking him in closer.

“it doesn’t matter how she feels about me,” he said, grabbing either side of stan’s tear-streaked face. “i don’t want her. i want you, stanley.” bill whispered, making stan melt into his arms. three little words were spoken and stan immediately felt ten pounds lighter. it was like something in his chest opened up and he couldn’t finally take a deep breath again. the two tired boys exchanged ‘i love you’s before parting ways for the night. for the first time in a while, stan went to bed feeling confident and loved. he smiled so hard that his mouth began to hurt as he realized how lucky he was to be the one bill loves, how blessed he was to have found someone like him.

-

hope this is what you wanted! i’m not used to writing stenbrough so go easy on me pls

[grownups-are-the-real-monsters]

Dive Bar

summary: The summer of 1989 was something Bill had not thought about in years. The people. The places. The Loser’s. But when he runs into an old friend at the bar, it’s like he’s there all over again. 

Ships: Reddie

Song: ‘Piano Man’ by Billy Joel

(IT happened but Bill runs into someone before the 2nd showdown)

Bill Denbrough had been many things when he was the bright age of ten. A friend, a brother, a son but it seemed by the time of his most recent age of twenty-nine, he was none of those things anymore. The worst part of it was that he could barely remember the time when he was those things but his stomach still ached with guilt and had him waking up in a heated sweat at least once a month. He was driving himself crazy and had been attempting to fix it, but sometimes he entertained the thought of just allowing himself to sink. Because was it really worth the effort if he had no one else? 

He swiped his hand over his 5 o'clock shadow, feeling the stubble that he’d just been neglecting for the past few days. He thought about the deserted baby blue razor that was resting on the pure white porcelain counter in his hotel room. He made a note to himself to pick the damn thing up when he got back and get the peppering of hair off his face. He dragged his feet into a kind looking dive bar for a hardy dose of alcohol related amnesia. If he was honest, he was looking forward to it all day. 

The place was crowded with the kind of people Bill assumed were regulars. He felt out of place from the minute he stepped inside. He strolled over to the bar and took the stool next to an old man who’s clothes shadowed his former young self. He was nursing his drink, swirling it and taking few sips as if wanting to make it last. Bill wanted to stare curiously but he held the urge back. The cheap light bulbs that were screwed into cones of emerald green, heated the back of his neck and he took off his jacket. Settling himself in. 

Bill was not an impatient person so he took the time in which he waited to drag his eyes over every inch of the cozy bar. He was narrowing his eyes to focus on an old black and white photo when somebody tapped on the bar. He whipped his head around and saw the face of a man, leaning down only slightly. His hair was a curled pitch black. 

“Something I can get you?” He asked, a smile spreading easily over his face. Bill felt a flicker of recognition that was gone in a flash. 

“An Old Fashioned?” Bill decided before he could really think about it. The man nodded and went to work. Bill watched him, trying to figure out why he was so interesting. 

“Y’know my dad used to drink this.” The man said in passing as he slid the drink over and leaned on the bar in front of him once again. Bill hummed and took a sip. 

“I’m more of a colorful drinker myself.” He chuckled, and God that laugh was something, Bill swore on it. The man sipped at some nauseated pink drink. “But you seem like the boring type.” 

“Beep Beep.” Bill rolled his eyes but froze completely. ‘Where the fuck did that come from?’. It seemed whatever it was that he said, cause the man to freeze too. He didn’t look fearful, as Bill must’ve but rather interested. He was tapping his fingertips in a pattern over his chin with a crooked smile. 

“Does that mean something to you?” Bill asked, knowing it must have meant something to him or else he wouldn’t have let it slip. 

“I would say so, sir.” He responded with a spot on British accent. “Takes me right back-”

“To when?” Bill interrupted as he was starting to retrace his whole life to place this guy. 

“Well, I don’t know but it does.” He shrugged with amusement. 

It was his attitude that helped Bill start to connect the dots…to a kid he swore he didn’t remember until this very moment. ‘But it couldn’t be. all his voices sounded the same-’ “Richie Tozier?”

“The one and only.” He smirked but quickly stopped to look Bill over. “Well, by golly! You must be…Bill Denbrough?” He snapped his fingers in Bills face. Bill chuckled and slapped his hand down. 

“How did you know?” 

“Came to me in the moment.” Richie shrugged and Bill felt a tug in his chest. “God, How are you?” 

Bill could have lied but his mind flashed, ‘C’mon this is Richie. Don’t lie to him’ and though he was only barely recalling him, he agreed. “Can’t say too well, Rich. You?” 

Richie looked around the bar and shrugged, throwing a towel over his shoulder. “Ah, you know me Big Bill. I make every place better just by being there.” He chuckled again. Bill couldn’t help but laugh with him, their laughter mixing was so familiar it hurt. 

He took out a lighter and waved it at Bill who nodded though he hadn’t smoked in ages. He took an offered smoke and Richie lit it for him, the red reflected warmly in his eyes. He pulled back and let Bill have room to blow his smoke. 

Richie slid someone else their drink and seemed to make some sort of joke, waving his hands about and laughing like it was hysterical. Though he slid right back over to Bill and the smile just ran away from his face. 

“You know, I think this is killing me, Bill.” Richie laughed but it wasn’t funny. Bill frowned. 

“What are you saying Rich?” 

“I’m sure that I could be making it big, knocking em’ dead y’know? You remember how my voices used to sound, right?” Richie asked and he nodded even though he didn’t really need an answer. “Trust me, they’ve improved…but I just can’t get out of this fucking place.” He shook his head and bit into his lip. 

Bill’s heart plummeted. Richie was a people person as long as he’d known him, of course he’d get attached to some ol’ dive bar like it meant the world to him. “You spoken for, Bill?” Richie spoke again before Bill could say something. 

He smiled, shaking his head. “No, not yet…you?” He returned the question. Richie shook his head just the same. Bill felt a little surprised, like he expected him to say he was. And Bill wasn’t sure why. He could’ve sworn Richie had something special going on the last he’d seen him…

“I thought…well I’m not sure what I thought actually.” Bill chuckled and Richie looked at him curiously. But Bill felt as if he was suddenly just attacked with memories. Of his six friends, he saw all of their faces for a quick second. He heard each of their laughter. And he saw the fiery red head, Bev…gripping onto Ben’s hand, He saw Mike riding no-hands on his bike proudly, he saw something he could only describe as beautiful, Stanley Uris laughing his ass off. And he saw the smile of his first best friend, Eddie..kasp-? Kaspbrak! 

“Do you remember Eddie?” Bill asked, excited. Richie pulled back for a second. He looked as if he was being hit with everything like a wall of water, Bill assumed he’d looked just the same not a moment ago. 

“Yeah, Yeah I remember him…” Richie was gripping onto what was only a ghost of a memory. “What happened-?” 

“I don’t know, I haven’t thought about him in ages.” Bill shrugged, wondering just why Richie looked so guilty. 

Richie twisted the towel on his shoulder as he was trying to focus on the faint echoes of someones giggling playing on sudden repeat in his head. ‘There’s so many things you should’ve told him…’ he said like a reminder to himself. “Shit, Eddie…he-We were something weren’t we?” 

Bill didn’t know the answer but he nodded anyway because it felt right. Suddenly Richie looked sick to his stomach. His eyes looked wildly back and forth, mouth a little agape. Bill looked back at the man playing piano in the corner of the place and felt a chill run up his spine like he should be remembering something traumatic but just couldn’t pick up on it. 

Richie took a long sip of his nausea in a cup and tried to focus. He remembered the way the small boy’s hand fit into his first. And then his laugh, his eyes and the way they’d roll whenever Richie opened his mouth, the way his nose scrunched up whenever he was disgusted and if Richie was correct, he did that a lot. He stood up straight, putting his hands on his hips. “How do you forget being in love like that?” He shook his head, mocking an amused smile this time. 

Bill couldn’t answer because he didn’t know. 

Richie laughed again and it would’ve haunted Bill if he could remember it after he left. “Maybe getting out of Derry isn’t all it cracked up to be?” 

“Don’t say that Rich, that place was awful and-”

“But it had you guys, and I remembered shit there.”

Bill got a chilling feeling in the pit of his stomach “Maybe it’s better off if we don’t remember whatever happened that summer-”

“I want to fucking know who Eddie is, but for some reason, when you walk out of that door, I know it’s all going to go away. I can barely remember it now. I haven’t thought about him in forever, but just now…when I remembered him, shit I felt something that made me feel worth it, Bill.” 

“It’s like I finally know what ‘Baby, I love Your Way’s about.” Richie added with a genuine laugh. Bill smiled and chuckled. 

“They all look at me like ‘God, what are you still doing here?’ “ Richie looked over his Saturday crowd with a fond look in his glossy eyes and started wiping down the counter. 

“You deserve better, Rich. You’re the funniest guy I know-”

“Yeah, until you walk out the door.” Richie added with a smug look and Bill had to laugh because it was true.  He finished his Old Fashion and knew it was time to go. 

“Maybe I’ll see you again?” Bill asked, hoping for a ‘yes’. 

Richie smiled. “Yeah, I’d like to think so.” He shrugged again. Bill reached over and hugged him. Richie sniffled and Bill gripped harder, not wanting to let go. He treasured the faces of his friends once more. Strong Beverly, Genuine Ben, Proud Mike, Beautiful Stan, and Richie&Eddie’s blushing faces. 

They were right, When Bill walked out that night…everything faded again. It got even worse when Bill flew home. 

But it was after there little run in, that Richie got himself out of that bar, making sure it was in good hands and into the DJ scene with major success. 

[etherealrj]

OMG OKAY PLEASE IF YOU CAN WRITE HEADCANNONS CAN YOU PLEASE WRITE ONE WHERE PENISWISE DOESN'T EXIST AND THE LOSERS CLUB GETS TO TAKE MIKE TO THE QUARRY AND JUST BE HAPPY KIDS. LIKE PLEASE I NEED THIS IN MY LIFE

AW NO JUST IMAGINE THO,

they still met bc the bowers gang were being assholes

but they immediately took him under their wing, adding another member to the gang

they went to quarry and the losers showed mike the cliff

mike was shook when he stood half naked and watched all the guys + bev just fling themselves off a cliff like it was no big deal

he was just quaking

and he has all the gang yelling at him from the water and he surprisingly doesn’t feel pressured to jump in

but he does and gets such a adrenaline rush and wants to go again

all the losers are all supportive and shit

and he’s having the best time and enjoying having friends

they have Richie’s old stereo (?) set up and they were listening to some classic 80’s rock (bc richie always had control)

when they were finished swimming they should him the tree house the built

and mike had so many ideas that he wanted to contributed

they let him speak his mind and never argued with anything he wanted to say

he got to add his hand print to the losers club wall

after a while the play little games, like hide and seek or 24 homes

mike always saw kids playing games like this but was never asked to join in

he’s just happy that he’s found a new family that accepts him the way he isAND EVERYTHING IS O FUCKINF K

send me headcannons

[good-doctor-imagine]

Crush (Bill Denbrough)

Pairing: Bill Denbrough x Reader

Summary: Bill doubts that you like him because you’re flirty around everyone but Richie is determined to prove him differently.

Requested by anon: “hii! could you do a fic where bill has a huge crush on the reader and reader is very flirty w/ everyone and the losers are trying to get bill to ask y/n out? i was also thinking about using the prompts “Wow, a great idea, but I’d rather die.”, “OH you’re jealous!”, and “Are you flirting with me?” “You finally noticed?” ty”

Word Count: 3.4k

Warning(s): swearing, mention of parents arguing, the word daddy, not proofread

Bill could not be more obvious when it comes to his crush on you. Every time you talked to him, his face would light up like his tree on Christmas. His stutter would be significantly worse to the point where he has to take a breather. When you were ever in the vicinity, he would just stare at you longingly.

His crush on you might be a surprise to some. You weren’t necessarily a part of the losers club but you were nice enough to talk to them. Bill made it a point to apologize to you every time someone gave you trouble for hanging out around them, but you always brushed it off. You weren’t that worried about your image anyway, you just wanted to have fun with friends.

Any time you sat with the losers club at lunch it would always be hectic. You were known for being a bit flirty interacting with others. Instead of being reserved like a lot of people, you were pretty hands-on.

“Oh, Richie is this a new shirt?” Without thinking, your hand came up and grabbed the collar of Richie’s floral-patterned button-up, rubbing it between your fingers.

“Yeah, sweetheart. You like it?”

“It looks cute on you,” You smiled back, a giggle leaving your throat before you retracted your hand.

While you weren’t best friends with Richie, both of your personalities mixed well when you were with each other. You both would try to one-up each other somehow when it came to flirting but you would always change the subject if Richie started making crude jokes.

Along with your physical affection, a few months ago you decided to give all of the losers their own pet name. Eddie’s is cutie, Richie’s is handsome, Ben’s is angel, Stanley’s is prince, and Mike’s is hot stuff. When Beverly lived in Derry, you would always call her love.

To his dismay, Bill didn’t really get a pet name. You always used different ones: babe, sugar, pumpkin, precious, literally anything you came up with. Bill would be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a bit jealous when it came to the affection you showed the rest of the losers.

Bill wasn’t in the best of moods and the rest of the losers noticed. Stanley attempted to cheer him up a bit but he didn’t really know what was wrong with him. That was until you met them. They were in the losers clubhouse when you decided to climb in. They were a bit surprised because they only showed you the location once but you managed to memorize the way there. Plus, Richie secretly invited you to spend time with them that day.

“Hey sweet cheeks, glad you could make it,” Richie grinned, head peeking over his comic book.

You smiled back at him. “Thanks for inviting me, Handsome.”

Although he was happy (albeit a bit nervous) that you were there, Richie’s pet name made his eyes roll. His mood was dropping by the second. Richie made sure to keep his eye on Bill as you made your way towards him.

“What’cha doing?” You asked Bill, leaning over his shoulder to see what he was writing.

His face started to heat up as he angled his arm to cover some of the paper. Bill didn’t want you to read what he was writing, even if you liked it. There was always the possibility of you not enjoying it or lying that you did.

In the other corner of the room, Richie was smiling widely but hid his face behind the comic book he was pretending to read. Step one was complete.

“Hey, sweet cheeks, want to read with me?”

Just like that, Bill’s face was drained of color, all of the red beginning to form disappeared. Your head swiveled towards Richie, to see what he was talking about. You were almost hesitant with your actions, your hand lingering on the back of Bill’s chair as you left.

Richie didn’t even try to hide his grin when you sat next to him in the hammock, the small space making you sit practically on top of him. You sat with Richie for quite a while, not having to worry about being kicked off because Eddie wasn’t there. While you were genuinely reading the comic, Richie’s eyes were glued on Bill, soaking in any reaction he could get.

“Richie, are you still reading this page?”

Your voice shocked him out of his trance. “Sorry, baby, I’m a slow reader. When you’re done with a page, you can just tap me and I’ll turn it.” Richie made sure that whenever you tapped him from them on, he would turn the page as he said. When it came to his next move, Richie was thankful that Bill was facing them, a large frown present of his face.

Being the cheesy bastard he was, Richie stretched his arm out as he yawned and gently maneuvered his arm to rest behind your head. You looked up at Richie and rose an eyebrow at him in question. Usually, Richie would just flirt with his words but this time, he wanted to get a reaction.

And he was successful. Bill was very expressive when it came to his emotions, even if he didn’t want to be. As soon as Richie’s arm was over your shoulder, Bill’s jaw clenched and the pen in his hand was starting to bend from the amount of force he was exerting on it.

Luckily enough for him, you actually had to leave not long after the incident. You apologized to the group for not being able to stay long (which they didn’t mind anyway) before leaving the clubhouse with a proud trashmouth and an angry best friend.

When Richie figured you were far enough that you couldn’t hear them, he set his comic book down and peeked over at Bill who still looked as annoyed as before.

“What’s up Bill?” Richie teased, although he tried his best to come off as genuine, “You look like someone killed your cat.”

Bill’s face scrunched up as he faced his friend. Bill knew well why he looked upset but he wasn’t sure if he wanted the other losers to know. “It’s nothing. Just can’t think.”

The trashmouth rose his head as if to say he understood, making Bill turn his attention back to the paper in front of him. Richie didn’t want the situation to die from there, his main goal was to get a reaction from Bill and he wasn’t going to stop until Bill admitted that he had feelings for you.

“Wasn’t Y/n cute today?” Richie sighed, his body sinking into the hammock. He smiled as Bill’s head shot up at your name. Bingo.

“What do you mean?” Stanley questioned from the corner of the room, his eyes steady on Richie as if he was studying him.

“Ah, I don’t know,” Richie sighed again, “It’s just they looked really cute today, don’t you think, Bill?” Bill couldn’t help his breath from getting stuck in his throat as everyone’s eyes landed on him.

“I-I think Y-Y-Y/n looks c-cute e-e-every d-day.”

Shit! I wasn’t supposed to say that! I was supposed to say they looks the same as every other day, dumbass!

In an instant, Richie’s face lit up in amusement. This was going better than he planned. Sitting up so he could see Bill fully, he decided to continue egging on his best friend.

“Oh, really? Which outfit do you like the best? Personally, I think the outfit they wore to school yesterday was my favorite. Like everyone was staring at them—”

“Shut up, Richie,” Bill shot at him, his upper lip curling as he sneered at his friend. He wasn’t going to lie, you did look good yesterday and, yes, everyone was staring at you but that didn’t mean they should. Thinking about everyone looking at you makes Bill’s stomach turn, especially if it was Richie.

“OH you’re jealous?” Richie laughed, his eyes wide as he sent a crazed look to his blushing friend. The other losers were deathly quiet and they watched the scene unfold in front of them.

“What are you talking about?” Bill tried to act dumb, squinting his eyes at Richie’s antics.

Bending over in the hammock, Richie let out a heavy laugh. “Can you believe that, Stanley? Big Bill has a crush!”

Stanley bit his tongue as his eyes shot between his two friends. Whatever was happening, he did not want to be in the middle of it. Bill couldn’t even hide his embarrassment, his face was bright red and his mouth was open to speak but nothing was coming out.

“H-H-How,” Bill stumbled. There was no way he could lie to his friends, not all of them were idiots.

“It’s so obvious,” Richie pointed out after wiping the tears from his cheeks. “You’re head over heels for them. You’re practically drooling at every move they make.” Bill was speechless, shocked by the bluntness of his friend. “You should just ask them out already.”

Now that is what smacked Bill out of his shock. There was absolutely no way that he could do that. You didn’t even like him like that. “W-Wow, a g-g-great i-idea, but I’d r-rather d-die,” Bill scoffed, his eyes landing on the ground.

Richie tried not to deflate from his friend’s depressed attitude. “Why not?”

“I m-mean, th-th-they’re a-amazing but they don’t l-li-like me like th-that. I don’t th-think they e-even like m-me a-as much as y-y-you guys.”

“What makes you think that?” Stanley speaks up, raising his eyebrows at Bill as he thought about his relationship with you. It was like all of his insecurities were coming back to bite him in the butt.

“Well,” Bill mumbled, his voice becoming softer. He felt almost too embarrassed to admit it. “I-I don’t e-e-even have a-a ni-nickname.”

Richie’s retracted, putting a hand on his chest to be dramatic. Stanley was still calm, beckoning for Bill to explain.

“I-It’s hard to t-t-tell if th-they’re e-even into me b-b-because it’s like th-they’re into e-e-everyone. P-Plus, you a-all have n-n-nicknames. Richie, th-they call you H-Handsome, and St-Stanley, they call y-y-you Prince. W-What do they c-c-call me? B-Bill. I think it’s o-o-obvious e-enough.”

Richie couldn’t help but feel a bit disheartened by his statements but he knew what he was talking about. Bill was right to feel that way, you were a bit flirtatious by nature and you did have a nickname for everyone in the group but him.

However, Richie could see how much you cared for him. Even if you were talking to Richie, your focus would be on Bill. He saw the way you could always position yourself so you could see Bill and the way your eyes would be glued to Bill as Richie tried to talk to you. It may be hard for Bill to realize your feelings but it was always obvious to Richie.

Despite wanting to shoot Bill’s negative thoughts down, Richie held his tongue. If he said anything, he knew that Bill would deny him. You liked him; Bill needed to hear it for himself and Richie was determined to help his friend realize it.

The next day, Richie called you and asked if he could come over. Out of curiosity and confusion, you said yes. Richie and you might shoot jokes at each other every now and then but you two never really spoke out of the group. If he needed to talk to you privately, it must be something important.

When he finally arrives, you make sure he’s okay first by scanning over him. For all you know, he could have gotten into a fight and you were the only person he could call. You quickly realized that absolutely nothing was wrong with him when he shot you a grin.

“Wow, checking me out so early in the morning?”

“Shut up Richie,” You dismissed him but you couldn’t help but smile at his playfulness. That was part of the reason why you two got along so well. “Why are you here?”

Before he said anything, Richie looked around to make sure no one was around him, specifically any of the losers. “Can I come in?”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you opened the door slowly, suspicious of what he was going to talk about. The loud mouth not saying anything until he was inside where no one could hear him but you was a bit nervewracking. It took a little bit for Richie to get settled, choosing to sink into your couch the moment he stepped into the living room.

“Now can you tell me why you’re here?”

“Tell me, what do you like about Bill?” Richie asked, his tone light like he was a proper mother (part of him felt like he was).

It took more than you thought to keep yourself from shaking at his question. How in the world did he know? No, you didn’t try to hide it but you just assumed that everyone would be oblivious to your feelings because you acted close to everyone. Richie saw right through you.

“H-How did you–”

“You’re just like Bill, I swear,” Richie sighed, cutting you off. You were standing in front of him as still as ice. You were frozen and sweating by the sudden anxiousness that coursed through you. “It’s really pretty obvious as long as you pay attention. I’m not dumb, y’know?”

Part of you tried not to laugh at his last statement, your mind flashing back to the time in class when he questioned why letters were involved in math. When Richie cleared his throat, you realized your situation. You could fully admit that you like Bill and face the consequences and the teasing or you don’t admit that you like Bill, have to keep lying, and still face and consequences and the teasing.

“Fine, I like Bill,” You admitted, “But it’s not just because he’s really cute okay? He’s a genuinely nice person and he’s really funny. Actually, he’s the only person I feel like I can really laugh with. Not only that but he’s also a really talented wri–”

“Okay, okay!” Richie interrupted, waving his hands up, “I didn’t ask for a whole essay!”

You went quiet and hung your head, trying to hide your embarrassment. By no means did you want to rant about Bill to his best friend, especially Richie. There’s no way you’re not going to be teased now.

“Look, I know Bill likes you too–”

“Really?” Your head shot up, eyes lighting up in excitement. Was he serious? Bill really liked you back? This is like a dream come true.

“Oh my god,” Richie grumbled, smacking his forehead, “Are you blind? Anyway, that’s not why I’m here. Bill feels like you don’t like him because you don’t have a pet name for him.”

Your face scrunched up as you stared at Richie, shaking your head to him to explain.

“Everyone in the group has pet names, even Beverly and she’s not even here anymore. He just feels left out because of it. And he’s as stupid as you and can’t take a hint.”

You ignored the last part of his confession and thought to yourself. You give just about everyone a pet name, it is a way that you show your affection but it felt kind of weird to do that with Bill. Bill was someone you seriously cared about and you didn’t want to show him the same affection as everyone else. He was someone you liked differently.

However, you can see how that could look bad on your part. Not giving him a nickname like everyone else could make him feel different, and not the good kind of different. You tried out a few on him here or there but none of them felt right. He was special to you and you felt like the pet names you gave everyone didn’t fit him.

“You’re right, I am an idiot. I didn’t even realize…” You trailed off as you thought about how Bill has acted strangely the past few weeks. Every time you went to hang out with his group he was always paying attention to you, watching your every move. You’ve been using your nicknames for them a lot recently, especially since you’re finding yourself wanting to sit with them more, and every time you would say hi to Bill without a nickname of his own, his mood would sour.

As you sank to the ground in disappointment, Richie’s smile grew. Richie swore he was a mastermind as he would see all of the puzzle pieces falling into place. Maybe in the future, he should become a matchmaker– no. He can’t even handle his own problems, let alone ten more. Plus, he’s not that good with customer service.

“Don’t worry too hard.” Richie’s smile was as big as it could get as he watched you look up at him defeated. “I’ve got a plan.”

Monday was going terribly for Bill. The start of his day was like no other, brushing his teeth and getting dressed. When he went downstairs, though, his parents started to argue again. It had been a while since their last argument and he finally thought that they were over it now, but they seemed to go into the same routine.

He tried to leave as soon as he could but in that rush, he forgot to grab his rain jacket. Lucky for him, it started to rain on his way to school! By the time he arrived, Bill was thoroughly soaked and had to ask for another change of clothes.

When he got the clothes, however, he wished that he never asked for them. He was given an annoyingly bright yellow stained T-shirt and some ripped jeans muddled with dirt. Despite his protests, the office ladies were quick to convince him into changing.

He didn’t even look at you that morning, too embarrassed by how he looked to interact with you. You didn’t really care, Bill looked cute regardless of the stained clothes he was forced to wear.

Out of everything, Bill was not looking forward to lunch. Normally, he would be elated that you were going to spend time with the club but he felt something off. Even this morning, he could feel your eyes lingering on him. Maybe he was just overreacting, but Bill was starting to get anxious.

While he was staring off in space, you snuck up behind him, glancing at Richie as you leaned next to Bill’s ear.

“Hey, daddy.”

Almost instantaneously, the water in Bill’s mouth spewed across the table, causing for Richie to jump out of his seat. While Richie was holding up his hands in disgust, Bill was busy coughing from the water he accidentally inhaled. You were shocked at his reaction but you eventually started to laugh, amused by his reaction.

When he was done coughing, Bill sent Eddie and Richie an apologetic look.

“S-Sorry Bill,” You tried to settle down but giggles kept escaping your throat. “I didn’t expect you to react like that.”

Bill looked at you, his eyes wide. “W-Wha-Why?”

You looked over at Richie, making sure it was okay to tell Bill but he was too distracted trying to dry his clothes.

“I just thought you looked really cute,” You shrugged, hoping Bill would go along with it. You weren’t exactly lying, Bill did look really cute. Bill didn’t shrug it off this time, instead his eyes squinted at you as you continued to ramble. “See!” You pointed at Bill’s face as he pouted a bit, “You’re just so cute it’s hard to resist– I mean, you can’t really blame me, can you?”

“W-W-Wait,” Bill stopped you, blinking as he tried to process what you were saying. “A-Are you fl-flirting w-w-with m-me?”

“You finally noticed?” Richie shouted, throwing his arms up as he looked at Bill incredulously. He felt good that Bill was finally realizing your feelings, but he definitely did not expect being spit on as payment.

You smiled as BIll’s mouth hung open, his eyes not moving from yours. He was shocked, that was for sure.

“A-Are you serious?” Bill spoke up although his voice was quiet.

“Bill, I’ve liked you for a while.”

“B-But I th-thought y-y-you–”

“Richie told me that you didn’t feel like I liked you because I didn’t give you a nickname, so I gave you one!” As Bill stumbled over his words, you were grinning, amused by how he was frozen by such a simple action. “So, I’ll see you later for our date?” You asked, your eyebrow raising.

Bill didn’t think that his face could get any warmer but it did. He felt like dying, sweat starting to roll down the palms of his hands. “D-D-Date? L-Later?”

“Yeah,” You confirmed, nodding your head. Before you left, you patted his shoulder and sure to send him a wink. “See you after class.”

[good-doctor-imagine]

Please Don’t Cry (Bill Denbrough)

Pairing: Bill Denbrough x Reader

Summary: You have an argument with Bill that leaves you both bitter.

Word Count: 800+

Warning(s): angst... sad times

A/N: This is the first angst fic I’ve ever written. I don’t even know if it’s good in terms of angst because I don’t read it. 😣

Although Bill was your boyfriend and you would support him through thick and thin, something you did not agree with was intentionally putting himself and others in danger. You could never understand the pain of having a missing brother, but risking the lives of others you care about is stupid. The situation in the Neibolt house was where you believed Bill crossed the line. He saw how seriously hurt Eddie got and everyone was so close to death, yet Bill refused to back down. In any other circumstance, you would be proud of his bravery. This, however, was foolish.

You resisted lashing out in front of the others even as they argued and fought in the street. If you were going to confront Bill, you were going to do it in private. You hoped that by the time you got to his house Bill would have cooled his head a bit. All that hope was thrown out the window when he threw his bike into the driveway pavement, lip curled as he stomped to his front door. You didn’t want to make him more upset but you also couldn’t let this slide. The losers club could be over forever, crumbling because of a psychotic clown along with Bill’s determined nature.

Although he didn’t do much to acknowledge your presence, Bill didn’t shut you out of his room like you thought he might. If he did lock his bedroom door, you would have just left. This was a sign that he didn’t exactly mind your presence but he was visibly upset.

“Bill, we need to talk,” You sighed as you shut his bedroom door behind you. His mom probably wouldn’t want to hear this conversation.

“W-W-What now?” Bill said through gritted teeth, pacing around the front of his bed.

You lost your voice for a moment, trying to process what was happening. Through all the years you’ve known Bill, he never tried taking his anger out on you. Whenever he was frustrated, he would always try to talk through it and when his anger wouldn’t die down, he would just ask you to leave.

When you gathered the courage, you spoke again. “What you did was extremely stupid. You didn’t just put yourself at risk but everyone else too.”

Bill immediately stopped pacing and faced you. His eyebrows were scrunched together as he listened to you, his heart beating so loud it was almost muffling your words. Once he realized what you were saying, his face scrunched up. He almost felt betrayed. “Y-You’re r-r-really choosing their s-s-side?”

“I’m not choosing sides,” Your voice raised at the accusation. You truly cared about Bill but you also cared a lot about your other friends too. “I’m just saying that you shouldn’t put yourself in danger like that. It’s reckless and-”

“A-And?” Bill interrupted you, his face slowly turning red, but it wasn’t from embarrassment. “G-Georgie is s-s-still out th-there and he in d-da-danger every d-day.”

“Bill,” You breathed out and was unable to continue. As much as you would like Georgie to be alive and well, it was highly unlikely. It had been months since he disappeared and you know that there was no way he could be roaming the streets unharmed with that clown around. The clown was trying to lure Bill in with the guilt of his brother��s disappearance, even if he was no longer alive.

“Don’t you f-f-fucking say it,” Bill seethed, tears beginning to pool in his eyes.

“Please don’t cry,” You whispered, your heart breaking as Bill desperately tried to keep himself from falling apart in front of you.

“Don’t t-t-touch me,” Bill spat at you when you reached out for him. Your arm immediately shot back from the force of his words. “Y-You’re just like R-R-Richie. D-Do you e-e-even love me?” Bill didn’t make a move to wipe his tears away, letting them spill down his cheeks.

“Don’t say that Bill, you know I do.” Your own tears started to gather, upset not only at Bill but at yourself. You knew this was a very sensitive topic for him. Why did you have to bring it up?

“S-Sure doesn’t seem l-l-like it,” Bill stressed. He was holding his shirt tightly as if he was restraining himself. “You kn-know w-wha-what? J-Just get out. I d-do-don’t want to s-see you.”

You shook your head, tears dangerously close to spilling from your cheeks. “Bill, this isn’t-”

“G-Get out!” Bill yelled, throwing his hand up, “What else d-do I h-ha-have to s-say for you to l-leave me alone?”

You bit your lip to keep it from trembling, nodding your head as you gripped the handle of his bedroom door. Before you left, you looked back at Bill with a pained look.

“Fuck you, Bill. You know I’m the one person that would stick by your side no matter what. You fucked up. Don’t even try looking for me. We’re done.”

Masterlist

[losersclubimagines]

Glasses — Part Three

Title: Glasses - [3/3]

Pairing: Richie Tozier x Reader

Type: Platonic | Romantic | Familial | Other

Warnings: uhh, fluff?

Summary: Richie has never liked the quarry as much as he does now.

You certainly did not sign up for this.

When Richie invited you to the quarry, your initial reaction was that you’d be sitting atop the grassy cliff, talking and dicking around or whatever it was these alien-to-you teenage boys did.

But now, as you stood stock-still, with your would-be new friends in their trunks on the edge of the cliff, you’re seriously starting to re-evaluate the situation .

You were even starting to think you could sneak away before you were spotted and come back with a decent-coverage swimsuit - or even full-body wetsuit - when Bill looked up and waved you over with a smile. You dithered for a couple of moments before caving and making your way forth with no protest, not missing how Stan, upon spotting you too, dug his elbow into Richie’s ribs with a badly-disguised expression of amused smugness on his face.

You joined the four at the edge of the cliff, anxiously picking at your hangnails as they turned to look at you.

“Finally,” Eddie grumbled in that funny, high voice of his as he pushed himself to his feet. “Can we go in now?”

“In?” you echoed in alarm, casting your eyes down to the body of water, blue as a pigeon’s down, around a hundred feet below. “As in - down there?”

Stan huffed a laugh. “What did you think we were coming to the quarry for? Catch butterflies?”

“But-” you swallowed, feeling a tide of heat climb up your neck and cheeks. “I didn’t bring anything to swim in. Or spare clothes, or anything.”

“That was smart,” Richie piped up, and you shot the skinny boy a glare. He grinned cheekily in response, nudging his glasses up, then shrugged nonchalantly, sauntering over you. “Well, you could stay up here.” He paused. “Like a sissy.”

Your eyebrows shot up, more in amusement than annoyance. “Excuse me?”

He shrugged, unsuccessfully trying to ward the grin from his face. “I don’t know why I expect any more from you.” He flung his arms out then let them drop. “Obviously, you’re just a girl.”

And of course you knew he was leading you on, it was the most see-through lead-on you’d ever heard, and yet that stubborn part of your brain had taken control entirely. You stepped back, and your hands went straight to the buttons of your dress, undoing it with deft expertise, and then the light summer air was sliding about your skin as you let the fabric slide down your body to pool at your feet, the only barriers from your full skin your hair on your shoulders and the thin scraps of material acting as underwear.

You tilted your head up, noting how the air was suddenly so thick with silence you could wade through it, and stared Richie in the eye. You could feel the gazes of the others on you, but your eyes were only for the bespectacled, skinny boy before you, suddenly a stammering mess with cheeks redder than his glasses.

“Try to keep up,” you smiled. “Sissy.” You swiftly sidestepped round him, burning up a run as you went, shoved through the boys with ease -

And the ground disappeared beneath your feet. You would’ve screamed if you could find the air, but all of it had been robbed from your lungs as you plummeted downwards.

Besides, you heard Richie shout, “HOLY SHIT!” as you jumped, and felt that summed it up pretty well in any case.

You hit the quarry with a splash that sent an arc of water so high it grazed the feet of your friends high above you, and as you surfaced, gasping and giggling in giddy hysteria, you reclined on your back, staring up at the vaguely blurry faces looming above you.

You shrieked as someone suddenly bolted off the clifftop, heading right for you. You managed to twist away just as the body made impact with the water, and as you righted yourself with a laugh, the head of Richie bobbed up before you, face bear of glasses but still bearing a blush pink as a summer sunset.

“So maybe I was wrong,” he offered with a smile, that stupid smile of his that screamed, I take nothing seriously! You were getting fed up of seeing it.

“Maybe you were,” you agreed. Still smiling. “Entirely wrong, I’d say.”

“For you, I’ll even take that,” he countered, grinning still. You waited for the smile to wear as the seconds ticked by, but there it sat, resolute as stone, like he was enjoying some joke only he was privy to.

You could think of only one way to wipe it off his face.

Bringing your head forward suddenly and grabbing one of his forearms, you brushed your lips against his in a quick, sweet kiss that tasted like saltwater. It lasted scarce a second, but when you pulled away, Richie’s eyes were wider than you’d ever seen the, behind the magnified lenses of his specs, blushing to the tips of his ears to even the flesh of his lips, so dark they resembled wine.

He wasn’t grinning anymore. He was rooted still, even as the hysterical laughs and cheers of his friends sailed overhead, and god, the poor boy was shaking.

You were the one smiling now. “Close your mouth, Glasses,” you teased with a grin tugging at your lips. “I’ll never kiss you again if there’s flies in there.”

Richie swallowed thickly, snapping his jaw closed at once. You giggled at his shellshocked expression, then shrieked as a halo of plummeting bodies landed all around you, cloaking you and Richie in a shower of diamond-bright water droplets, and at last he seemed to snap out of his daze.

As his friends surfaced, he whipped round too them with a grin. “Yes, boys! What the fuck did I tell you?”

“That your dick length could reasonably compare to the neck of a brachiosaurus?” Stan supplied, smirking.

“No, you asswipe. I told I’d be the first one out of all of us to get some!”

Stan and Eddie rolled their eyes in perfect sync, while Bill just laughed.

Just on the outside of the circle of jostling boys, you smiled to yourself. Perhaps Derry wasn’t such a terrible fate after all.

[grownups-are-the-real-monsters]

Ok, expanding a little on a previous Head Canon I made. Bill, Stan and Eddie go to car shows all the time. And Eddie likes to explain all the mechanical things to the boys and talks with the owners of the cars. Stan and Bill are clueless™ on cars but love to listen to Eddie talk about them and look at all the pretty ones.

[losersclubimagines]

thanks for loving me — [richie tozier]

title: thanks for loving me

pairing: richie tozier x gender neutral reader (if i accidentally slipped up and said ‘she/her’ or smth pls tell me bc this isn’t proofread

summary: your first encounter with pennywise takes the shape of your best friend

warnings: pennywise, like one curse i think?? this is pretty vanilla for me

You'd often jokingly enunciated the notion that two Richie Toziers would be your worst nightmare.

It was an old thing of the two of your's, ever since second grade when you'd looked at him through a cheap glass diamond and exclaimed "wow, Rich, there's eight of you!"

He'd laughed, raucous even then, a pursed his lips. "What, one ain't enough for you?"

"Stuff it, four-eyes. Anymore than one'd be my worst nightmare," you'd giggled, lobbing the diamond at him. He'd nudged off his thick specs and squinted through the diamond, getting a spider-eyes view of you.

"I dunno, I could get used to this view," he'd joked, and you'd laughed.

(that memory was soaked in a sweet childhood haze, a haze that made everything soft at the edges and lit up with a warm golden light before growing up sharpened the edges and put up their shutters against that light)

It became a gimmick growing up - whenever Richie messed up spectacularly, you'd ruffle his hair and say, "well, at least there's only one of you to fuck up this badly."

And that night in early August when Richie, Bill, Stan and Eddie had invaded your bedroom for your weekly sleepover, you were going to get a taste of how truly terrifying more than one Richie Tozier could be.

You'd tried to blow off your surprise when you'd opened the door to four of your friends instead of three, as you'd assumed were appearing. Richie, Eddie and Stan stared pointedly and urgently at you as the door swung open, whilst Bill - hair lank and skin pale with just the ghost of a smile flitting over chapped lips - scuffed his feet on your doorstep and mumbled hello.

"B - hey, guys. Everyone. Um, come in." You stepped to the side, painfully aware of the four sodas set down on the table instead of five, four packs of chips instead of five, four blankets instead of five. Bill swallowed as he glanced around.

"Um, s-sorry I j-j-just drop-p-ped by u-unexpect-ed," he mumbled. Good God, Big Bill, what has this town done to you?

"No, no, it's, uh - I'm glad to see you, Billy." You touched his arm warily, wincing at yourself. Since when had you been afraid to touch Bill? Since he started looking like he'd snap and die with a good sock in the kisser. "I'll just go grab more of - well, everything."

"Nice one, Y/n," Richie commented with an eye roll, leaping over the back of your couch to collapse uncomfortably close to Stan, who swatted at him with a rolled up magazine as if he were a particularly annoying fly. Eddie took to the armchair, the spot he always took (you suspected because it was such a large, cushy seat it practically swallowed him like a mother's soft embrace) whilst Bill dropped into the last seat on the couch, hovering right on the edge with a spine so rigid he might have been wearing a splint under his unwashed shirt.

You backed out the room quickly, cursing yourself. Of course you'd assumed Bill wouldn't be coming - why would you? Georgie had only gone missing three weeks ago - but it was tense now, and you felt it even as you made your way down to the fridge in the cellar for another can of soda.

Your kitchen was scarce more than a cupboard, so your fridge and freezer were both in the basement. You'd never really had qualms about going down there - the lightswitch was right by the door and you could be in and out in thirty seconds - but the air felt odd tonight, cold and prickly, like it was radioactive.

You swallowed, flicking the switch and watched as a dim, buzzing light filled the dank space, before letting out a quick breath and making your way down the stairs to the fridge.

(something was wrong)

It was on the other side of the cellar and every step seemed to bring you no closer. You felt like you'd been walking for hours, cold sweat dripping down your throat and pooling in the neckline of your shirt.

(the air is alive?)

You could see something off about the fridge. It looked yellower than you remembered, like paper left to bleach in the sun, and there was a fringe of gray-green mold crusting round the opened. You swallowed back a lurch of sickness, pausing your approach to look closely at the fridge.

(something's alive).

Slower than you'd like, and with a mounting feeling you'd associate with pushing the button to your own electric chair, you reached forward and prised open the door.

A roll of cold steam blew out at you, obscuring for a bare moment what lurked inside. But only the barest moment, because next second the silver fog had cleared, and you were knocked to the earthy-smelling ground by something you could only describe as dark.

The dark glint of it's eyes, the dark curve of it's vermilion smile, the dark space between his teeth that stretched to an endless, black sunken place.

You keeled on the ground, retching for the air that had been knocked from you, stumbling numbly to your knees when you heard the barest scrape of a footstep behind you. You twisted, throwing yourself away from the noise in a blind panic, before the searing shock ebbed slightly and your vision focused on one Richie Tozier standing before you, a grin on his face.

"R-Richie?" you choked out. "What are you doing down here?"

"Came to see you, didn't I, bubs?" His tongue rolled just barely over his lips when he talked, like a lizard wetting it's mouth for a meal, and you felt another pale twinge of unease. "What were you doing on the floor?"

"I - the - nothing," you muttered. "I tripped."

"Well, I just came down to tell you something." Richie rocked on his heels, the grin on his face so permanent it might have been chipped in marble.

"Tell me what?"

"Only, me and the boys think you shouldn't bother coming back up," Richie enunciated cheerfully, tipping enthusiastically back and forth on the balls of his feet.

Whatever you'd been expecting, it wasn't that, and you felt your insides freeze. "I - what?"

"Well, since you went down it's pretty clear that this night's gonna be a lot more fun without you," Richie continued pleasantly. "Even Big Bill's having a laugh! Big ol' Bill with the dead brother and vegetable parents!"

"Richie, that's not funny," you choked out, appalled. "None of this is funny, alright? Stop it!"

"Stop what? Telling the truth?" Richie cocked his head to the side, smile a mile wide. "C'mon, bubs, you must know it deep down. We don't really want you around. And it's kinda, y'know, sad, that you keep clinging on to this idea that anyone here cares about you."

For once, words had left you. "Richie..."

"In fact, we were thinking of letting Bowers take care of you. What d'you think he'd do with you after he's done? Lob you in a ditch? Hang you in the woods? Or send you up to float with Georgie?" His grin grew three sizes then, and you caught it again - that darkness behind the teeth, winking at you with it's suffocating blackness.

(that's not richie)

"You're not Richie," you said quietly. Before you'd spoken, you were unsure, but as you vocalised his name, certainty grew inside you. This mocking thing that stood before you wasn't Richie, couldn't be Richie. Richie poked your cheeks and winked and told foul jokes and hugged you awkwardly. This thing wanted to swallow you whole and gargle on your fear.

Not-Richie tilted his head. "Does it matter?" His voice was higher now, gravelly, and his nose and lips looked redder, and his skin paler. A blood-colored pom-pom burst out from the place between his lungs. "You know it's still true. They don't want you, Y/n. You knooooow they don't."

"You're wrong," you stammered, swallowing and stepping back on instinct as not-Richie fronted closer. His skin was paper-white now, dark hair receding, and a froth of moldy lace collars were bursting up around his neck. His lime sneakers split at the seams in place of grey slippers with more of those blood-coloured pom-poms, and his nose was redder than Rudolph's.

"But now it's in your head," It breathed, "and you're so afraid I could... taste it."

It lunged.

You screamed, throwing yourself to the side. You crashed into the fridge, feeling a pocket of agony burst in your hip. You rolled away, gasping, feeling a great weight descent upon you and send your knees buckling. On the floor again, you whimpered as a large, gloved hand seized your wrist.

You were staring up at a clown, paint-faced and silk-suited. Some hysterical part of you wanted to burst into laughter, but when you opened your mouth, all that came out was a shriek.

It stuck out a long tongue and licked a stripe up your arm. You writhed, bucking away from It and it's yellow eyes rolled back in it's head. "Soon," it promised, a fleeting foul breath wafting across your face, before the grip was relinquished and, all abruptly, the darkness was gone.

All at once, everything was right again.

The air was no longer hyperactive, the disproportionate amount of shadows scattered, and the rhythmic thudding taking place above you gave way to one massive bang as the cellar door swung open and all four of your friends hurried down to meet you like worried insects.

You got to your feet, glancing around wildly, but the clown was nowhere to be seen.

“Y/n!”

You’d barely turned back around before Eddie had barreled into you, eyes blown wide with fear and confusion as he checked you up and down.

“Are - are you hurt? What’s wrong, what happened?” he gibbered, buzzing like a fussy bumble bee.

“You were screaming at the top of your lungs,” Stan remarked quietly. He looked very pale, and his lower lip was trembling. “It sounded like you were being m-” with a sudden glance at Bill, Stan cut himself off and slunk into silence, bowing his curly head.

Bill appeared not to notice. “W-w-what happened, Y-Y/n?”

“I... there was a...” trying to regain control of your body seemed an impossible feat. You were trembling violently even as Eddie wrapped an arm around your shoulders, casting quick glances into every corner of the room. Your throat felt raw, tears were wet on your cheeks and there was pain blossoming in your hip where’d you’d smashed into the fridge. Maybe worst of all was your forearm, glimmering with saliva tracks and surrounded by the faint waft of circuses and rot.

“A possum.”

The boys cast quick glances at each other. “A possum?” Bill echoed in disbelief.

“Y-yeah. A massive one, it just jumped out at me from inside the fridge.” Bending down, you picked up the lone soda can that had rolled to a stop at the foot of the freezer. “Guess you won’t be wanting this, huh, Billy?” The nervous laugh that escaped you then felt more like a grimace than anything.

“Where’s the possum now?” Richie finally piped up. You didn’t look at him as you answered.

“Oh, who knows? I think it scampered under the... dresser. We’ll call exterminators in the morning, alright?”

“I dunno, Y/n,” Richie answered. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” you answered, eyes anywhere but him. “Have you started the movie?”

“We paused it for you,” Eddie replied. His arms wound round your neck as he brought you in for a hug. “Are you sure you’re okay?.”

“I’m fine, Eds,” you mumbled into his narrow shoulder.

(the two of you were oblivious to Stan and Bill collectively whacking Richie in either shoulder as the bespectacled boy shoved two fingers in his mouth and mimicked a violent throwing-up fest).

“So, should we go back up?” was what Stan chose to break the silence with a moment later.

“You guys go,” Richie chimed in quickly. “I wanna talk to Y/n for a sec.”

“O-okay, Trashmouth,” Bill remarked, and that was that - nobody really argued with Big Bill. And so he, Stan and Eddie trooped up the stairs. You winced at the ominously final sound of the door slamming, and you were left alone with Richie.

Again.

You noted sharply how he rocked nervously on the balls of his feet, kissed his teeth before speaking. “Y/n? You plan on looking at me for the rest of the night?”

“What?” You forced yourself to look at him, just for a moment - but then it became rather impossible to look away. You nervously studied his eyes - warm sienna, not black - his lips - trembling and chapped, not a glint of darkness in sight - and the concerned fold of his brow and the twitchiness of his hands and the way he was looking at you, anxious and confused all at once.

You felt like crying.

“Christ, Rich,” was all you could choke out before lurching forward and throwing your arms around him. He squeaked in the sudden embrace, arms flailing like a distressed octopus before gradually succumbing to the gesture, laying his arms to rest on your back and his chin in the crook of your neck in an embrace that felt so warmly familiar.

“Hey there, bubs, not that I’m complaining, but what’s up with y-”

“Shut up.” You lifted your head go plant a firm kiss on his cheek - warm skin under soft flesh, nothing cold about him - and you felt the words die in his throat as your lips touched his skin. He stared at you with blown eyes and a mouth slightly agape like a goldfish. “I’m, uh... I’m glad you’re here, Rich.”

“What - I don’t - what?!” To render Richie Tozier speechless was quite a feat, and you smiled weakly as you basked in it.

“And you know I love you, yeah?” you pressed urgently.

“I - sure you do, bubs. I love you too.” You noted with fondness how his cheeks splotched pink as the confused words left his mouth in a frenzied torrent.

“I know. I know that,” you reassured yourself as much as him. “Well - I guess we can’t keep the boys waiting any longer, huh?”

“Right,” Richie confirmed, finally having a hold of his voice. He looked at you curiously. “You sure you’re good? Sounded like you were getting your fucking spine ripped out.”

“It was a vicious possum,” you replied vaguely. “But I’m good. Just...”

You mulled over your words as you began to make your way toward the cellar steps.

“Just, thanks for loving me.”

———

TAG LIST: @bi-bi-homophobes @maggie-duvall @strangerschnapp @thepitybear @speakfandom @wolfhardstozier @socially-awkward-nerd @the-chase @princess-ravenclaw @derrysdenbrough @gay-ships-and-tea-sips @be-wild-but-also-insane @emejupovic @praise-the-walls

[ao3feed-strangerthings]

Fack | Oneshots

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3dfH1MQ

by SCHIZOUERADE

Fack Oneshots, Orginal Oneshots. My first oneshots.

Words: 1020, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: IT (Movies - Muschietti), Stranger Things - Fandom

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Underage

Categories: M/M

Characters: Finn Wolfhard, Jack Dylan Grazer, Asher Angel, Wyatt Oleff, Jaeden Lieberher | Jaeden Martell, Sophia Lillis, Chosen Jacobs

Relationships: Jack Dylan Grazer/Finn Wolfhard, Jack Dylan Grazer & Finn Wolfhard

Additional Tags: fack - Freeform, finn & jack, Finnxjack, Gay, underaged, Love Confessions, Denial of Feelings, Fluff, Walking In On Someone, Boys Kissing, Kissing, First Kiss, oneshots, Flustered, Angst

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3dfH1MQ