#losers club fanfiction

[greenandsorrow]

IF THE MONSTER UNDER YOUR BED NEVER HURT YOU, MAYBE IT WAS THERE TO PROTECT YOU. 🎈

Pennywise bonding with a teen!reader/ platonic

-> For technical reasons (for the plot to continue plotting), this chap focuses mostly on the past! Another thing... I appreciate your feedback and comments more than you realise, so don't hesitate to interact with my fics 🥺❣️

-> It's giving Stockholm Syndrome, I'm aware, but that's why it's called fanFICTION.

-> I think it's funny how each chapter turns longer than the last. I'm getting hooked to my own writing I guess.

-> Pennywise the Dancing Clown: A trans-dimensional entity that shapeshifts and feeds on the fear -and sometimes the flesh- of kids and animals. IT hibernates for 25 to 27 years, then wakes up for 12 to 16 months, manipulating reality and slipping past the notice of adults.

Listen to: Ilomilo by Billie Eilish

~ 3 ~

Pennywise's POV 🎈

For five long years he has stayed awake, stalking the streets of Derry... waiting. Pennywise's usual cycle -hibernating after a killing and terrorizing spree- has been disrupted. This time, something -someone- kept him from descending to the deep slumber he usually craves.

He can't fully understand it, but it's because of you -the spark, the tug of connection he isn't familiar with. He's hunted countless children without a second thought. But with you... When he had expected you to cower and break, instead, you had resisted, you had played his twisted games and stared back at him without losing your soul. You had made him so curious. And that curiosity has gnawed at him enough to eat away at his rest, putting him in a sort of restless trance.

Every time he tries to slip beneath the Earth and to return to the darkness he came from, he feels a pull, a shudder that makes him cling to the surface for just a little more, for just another silly, little, stupid, meek year.

But as the years have been slipping by, something else has shifted in him as well -a subtle thing that feels almost like restraint. He still lurks in the shadows, his instincts are still telling him to frighten and to feed��� but each time he sees you, that impulse falters. Instead of scaring you, he finds himself watching, almost guarding you from afar.

It feels a twinge of protectiveness -an urge that should definitely not exist in a creature made to hunt and devour. It doesn't get it, doesn't know why It lingers to ensure no danger befalls you, before It vanishes for the usual twenty-seven years. Almost as though, Pennywise the Clown is bound to you by something unexplainable, something that's kept him from retreating to sleep.

And It hates it.

The longer Pennywise watches, the more he wishes he didn't feel this way. But when he does try to stir up the familiar darkness within his core, it's dulled and quieted. All he knows is that his hunger has been overpowered by something else, something… protective.

And this fact is as unnatural as it is inappropriate, for no other than The Eater of Worlds.

1979 Derry, Maine

"Let's play another game..! I... There is... There's one we haven't played!"

The door creaked open and the clown stepped inside with a look you had never seen before on him. He wasn't smiling, wasn't performing... he was serious, unsettlingly so. A reminder that Pennywise wasn't -and isn't- a real clown, not in the way he pretends to be. Drool slipped from his red lips, glistening in the early morning light filtering through a crooked and badly shut window. He had probably just interrupted his breakfast -maybe to see you- and the hunger in his eyes was unmistakable.

"What kind of game?" his voice rumbled low, sending a chill across your skin. Your stomach tightened and you swallowed down the bile that rose. His piercing, yellow gaze left you feeling exposed.

You struggled to think of something, anything that could buy you more time. You had to say something, or else he would just get pissed and maybe have you for breakfast, instead of the one he was -so rudely- interrupted from.

"The first one to… If I can name one friend before you do, I get to leave. If you win… You get to do whatever you want with me." You knew you were cornered, but the words had come out anyway.

A strange look flickered across his face.

"What's your name?"

You frowned at what sounded like an absurd thing to ask out of the blue. "Y/n."

He giggled.

"Oh really?! And I'm Pennywise the Dancing Clown! Now we've both properly introduced ourselves... We can be friends!!!"

The point of the game was for you to win... but he just had to be a smartass.

"WE CAN'T- CAN'T BE FRIENDS!"

Pennywise pouted, almost like a child who's just been told no. You could see the contradiction in him as he considered your words -a clown who loves games, whose eyes practically gleam with excitement... and yet a predator who's always calculating, always one step ahead, keeping his prey exactly where he wants it. He knew you had just tried to outsmart him, yet he stepped closer, drawn in by the idea of another game. Your captor knew way more about you than you had realized -he had been watching you long before he had decided to 'kidnap' you.

Actually, your desperate answer made him leave his spot by the doorframe and advance toward you, crouching down to your eye level. You were paralyzed in fear he could probably smell. Even while holding your breath, you could feel his own on your face... It smelled like a butcher's shop.

"Don't. Shout. At. Me."

You nodded.

His drool was still glistening.

"You're not leaving either."

Another nod.

Then, he left the room.

Later, you'd realize he had let you have your way with that idiotic game purely out of boredom -a way to break up the ancient routine It'd followed since the beginning of time. But in that moment, you were just trying to survive.

What happened next is clouded in fragments, your memory blurred by fear -or maybe it's nostalgia. Somehow, over time, you became something to him. Indeed... a friend... of sorts.

As more days passed, you dared to start speaking more freely, filling the silence between you. You'd mention that you were cold, or hungry and he would tilt his head in that curious way of his. The next day, a bag of chips might appear on the bed. Once, you coughed, your throat parched. Fortunately, you managed to murmur "water". A few hours later, there it was -water in a bowl.

You found your book -Alice in Wonderland- left in a corner of the room. You read to him, each word trembling from your lips but never letting your voice falter fully. Pennywise would sit at the edge of the bed, sometimes even curling up like a cat -making you question if he had any bones-, his gaze fixed on you with an unnerving intensity. You were scared that when you finished reading the book, your life would end along with Alice's story.

But it didn't.

Still, sometimes you made desperate attempts to escape, bolting to the door. But he'd catch you with a taunting grin.

"Tag, you're it!" he'd chuckle, pinning you effortlessly. "Winner gets a prize!" he'd mock, as if the only reward he needed was to see your defeated face. But despite the mocking, the punishing appearances of the enormous cockroach stopped.

Even his gaze softened over time, slipping from the predator's yellow stare to an electric blue. The games also shifted -grew less cruel- and with them, so did he. He no longer seemed intent on hurting you and instead, observed you with a cautious neutrality.

Each day It brought you random bowls of food and water -most likely stolen from unsuspecting housewives... And sometimes, It would linger just outside the door, listening to your voice as you read to yourself.

One evening, you found yourself in the backyard, gazing up at a lilac sky. He had taken you there -unbeknownst to you- because he had brought a little snack inside and didn't want that to scare you.

You missed your old life with a pang that made your throat burn, a feeling so deep you didn't even notice him approaching. Without thinking, you pressed yourself into the clown's chest, burying your face against his ruffled collar. His strange scent -a mix of damp earth and something much older- washed over you and for the first time, you felt… safe with him.

He didn't hug you back, didn't mimic the gesture, but his voice murmured strange words about humans, their fragile nature and then the usual pet name he would call you: "little one".

It was then that you realized -he wouldn't hurt you. Not now. Not after all this time. But the realization broke something in you, a dam holding back all the emotions that had been bubbling under the surface.

"Y- You won. You won!" you stammered, choking back tears. "I'm your friend! Kill me now!"

You collapsed to your knees and he watched -bewildered- as tears streamed down your face. For a moment, he just stood there and watched you cry. Then, tentatively, he reached out in an almost inquisitive manner, to catch a tear with a long, white finger and taste it. He seemed to pause, reflecting on something only he could understand.

And then on another day, another attempt to escape. You had found a tiny window in the basement and tried to squeeze through it. But he noticed, his monstrous form scraping against the window's frame, shattering the glass in a frenzy to reach you.

When you saw the shards cutting into his skin... You froze, guilt flooding over you. You returned to his side while murmuring apologies, your hands trembling as you pulled the glass from his wounds, piece by piece.

He didn't attack you -just stared at you with a seriousness that sent chills down your spine. You knew in that moment, that you had crossed a line, that there was something between you that shouldn't have been there -because you could've left but didn't and because he could've killed you but didn't either.

When you finished pulling out the glass pieces, he was pouting at you. "Meanie..." he said and stuck his tongue out.

In the days that followed, Pennywise grew quieter. He watched you differently, as if seeing you with new eyes -ones that held a warmth you'd never expected. And in a way, it made you feel… comfortable. Comfortable enough that one day, you dared to reach out, brushing a hand along his white cheek.

He froze under your touch, as if unsure how to react -his usually fierce, yellow eyes softening to that strange blue. A low sound rumbled from him -somewhere between a purr and a growl- and he tilted his head, pressing into your hand like a cat, seeming almost… content.

But that wasn't right. He wasn't human and he definitely wasn't a pet. It was something ancient and boundless... and yet here It was, in its favorite form, accepting your touch and even starting to crave it. You pulled your hand away and his eyes opened, watching you in a way that felt unexpectedly intimate.

Time continued to flow onward.

You were now given strange meals in even stranger containers -a cracked bowl, a chipped mug, even a metal dish that you could have sworn was meant for a dog! He didn't seem to understand the details of human routines, didn't quite grasp what you needed beyond food and water. Yet he tried, even if it were in ways that felt utterly alien.

One evening, just as the sun began to dip, you asked if you could go outside again. You hadn't meant it as a real question, but in the morning, you found the door to the backyard unlocked.

You didn't dare leave the property, but you enjoyed how the air was fresh and the grass was soft and the sky a little cloudy. You stayed out until evening came.

Pennywise watched you from a distance, the colors of the twilight reflecting in his eyes, giving him an almost haunting beauty. He joined you, sitting in the overgrown grass... murmuring things in a language that sounded both ancient and musical, like whispers from an old spell.

In the quiet, you leaned against him, letting the stillness speak for you both. And though he didn't return the gesture, just like last time, he didn't pull away either. You looked up at the stars, feeling that deep ache for home... He patted your head in a comforting manner... and in that moment you could almost believe he was a friend.

You were just a kid, but even with your naivety, deep down you knew the truth -he was a monster that had killed before and would kill again. Yet for now, he seemed content with your presence, more curious than threatening. He tilted his head, watching you with softness in his gaze, as if pondering the mystery of your existence.

Somewhere in your heart, you felt the shift. Pennywise, the monster, had grown attached to you. And you… well, you couldn't deny the attachment had become mutual.

The days blurred together even more after that, filled with silly games, with quiet moments and fragments of a bond you could neither define nor understand.

And yet, even as you tried to push away the thought, you feared that someday he might wake up and no longer see you as friend, or even as a curiosity, but as something he was hungry for once more. Still, in the quiet of the night it felt like a small, tragic eternity -two beings from worlds apart, drawn together and held by something both tender and terrifying.

The last days in the house at Neibolt St were the strangest. Pennywise grew quiet, almost pensive, as if some hidden clock was winding down inside him. You noticed how his smiles and giggles were fading, as if the game he'd once delighted in was losing its thrill. Sometimes, he would simply watch you with an unreadable expression, his eyes that odd, bright blue that almost felt... sad.

You felt a pang of sympathy for him. For all his power and for all his malevolence, he was still somehow... alone. You had felt it in those strange moments when -almost wistfully- he'd listen to you talk and read.

The last night felt different, filled with an air of finality.

As you laid on your creaky bed, you noticed him standing in the corner of the room, like some sort of sleep paralysis demon. He was staring at you with an intensity that used to scare you three months ago. You felt the impulse to speak, but you knew he wouldn't respond. Instead, you held his gaze, feeling a strange sense of sorrow settle over you.

When he finally spoke, his voice was almost too soft to hear.

"Little one, when you leave…will you forget about me?"

The question caught you off guard and you didn't know how to answer. You wanted to tell him that you wouldn't, that everything you'd been through would be impossible to forget. But Pennywise knew that memories could fade, that as you grew older, the edges of this nightmare would blur.

You just stared at him, searching for the right words.

His eyes held a strange depth, a rawness you hadn't seen before. But he didn't wait for your answer. He simply turned, drifting back into the shadows as he whispered...

"The game isn't over."

And as he vanished, you were left in the cold darkness, with the silence pressing down around you like a final embrace. You clutched your knees to your chest, feeling the weight of those words settle heavily in your heart. You knew that even if you did forget him one day, some part of him would linger -an echo in the back of your mind, a memory that would never truly die.

That night, as sleep began to take you, you imagined him in the backyard... looking up at the stars and wondering if you'd remember.

It really felt like something precious had been taken away from you too early.

The next morning, you woke up in your own bed, in your home in Witchham Street.

For a moment you thought you'd died... Εveryone around you acted as though you'd never disappeared, as if those harrowing months at Neibolt hadn't happened at all. But there was one particular detail that hinted otherwise... A red balloon, floating silently at the edge of your bed.

That morning, you also got your period for the first time.

Stepping outside, the daylight was so bright and so warm, a stark contrast to the darkness you'd lived in for weeks. You squinted at the light, feeling almost as though you'd stepped into another world. It was hard to believe that just the night before, you had been in his arms -you had been seeking comfort from the monster who had held you captive.

Part of you seriously considered whether it had all been just a dream. Still, for days, you felt his absence like a missing heartbeat.

The world around you seemed much louder and the colors almost too vivid. Sometimes, you'd catch yourself looking for him in the shadows, half expecting to see his shape looming in the corners of your room.

At night you'd lie awake, thinking of his strange question...

"When you leave… will you forget me?"

You didn't know how to answer, even to yourself.

As much as you wanted to return to your old life and to move on from that nightmare, you felt a small part of you ache with the loss. You had lived through something impossible, something that had left you changed.

There was no going back to who you were before.

Over time though, the memory of him faded into something almost surreal. You didn't speak of it to anyone -the words felt fragile and sacred, as if telling the story might diminish it.

But the craziest thing that happened? You continued living as if everything was perfectly normal.

You only thought of Pennywise again that Christmas, in 1979...

The holidays had come to Derry and your family decorated the house with lights and garlands, the scents of pine and cinnamon clinging to every corner. There were gifts under the tree and snow falling outside the windows. Everything was festive and happy.

But when you woke up in your cozy little bedroom -on the 24th-, near the foot of your bed laid a single, crumpled sunflower. It must've been from the patch in the backyard where you'd sometimes sit with him, where the wildflowers had managed to grow despite the gloom. You held it gently, careful not to disturb its fragile petals. It felt like a memento of your time together -a reminder that what you had shared was real, however bizarre and terrifying.

On some nights, when the world was silent, you'd find yourself reaching for that sunflower, feeling the dried petals crumble beneath your fingertips. You'd lie awake, wondering where he was -if he still remembered, if he still waited. And though you'd never say it out loud, a small part of you hoped he did. Because no matter how much time passed, no matter how much you grew or changed, there was one truth you could never deny... He had left his mark on you, a scar that you'd carry forever.

And somewhere out there, you felt certain, Pennywise was waiting.

In the years that followed, you held onto those fleeting memories. They had a strange, magnetic pull -a mix of terror and fascination. You couldn't help but feel that if you let them slip, if you completely forgot, you'd be leaving behind a piece of yourself.

The Losers helped ground you.

They were your anchors to the present, pulling you back to laughter, to familiar faces and to the warmth of friends who shared their own scars and secrets. They never asked about the nightmares that sometimes made you stir, the shadows you occasionally saw out of the corner of your eye. And you never told them.

But there were also moments -quiet and lonely moments- when the weight of it all crept back, haunting you with unspoken questions. You'd wonder if he thought of you, if he missed you in his own twisted way. Did he ever feel the same hollow ache?

And deep down, you even wondered what might happen if he came back. Would he be nice and protecting? Or would he be just as monstrous and alien as before?

On some other nights, when the wind picked up, you swore you could feel his gaze -a distant yet familiar watchfulness that was both comforting and unnerving. It was as though he was still guarding you.

And so you moved forward, feeling the tug of those memories lessen but never fully vanish.

Would he stay away? Or would there come a day when that half-remembered monster with the childlike heart would find his way back to you?

1984 Derry, Maine

You tell yourself you hate Pennywise.

You tell yourself that, because you have to believe it is true, because that's the only way to move on. But deep inside your mind you can still feel him -his question echoing faintly in you, lesser and lesser each year, like a bond stretching thinner and thinner.

Currently, you're pondering over a glass of Cherry Coke. Yesterday, Bill had asked you about your dreams. He wanted to know if the clown that took away his little brother haunted you as well. You had simply shaken your head 'no', but the truth was the complete opposite.

Until you turned fifteen, Pennywise was still in your dreams. You remember those dreams even more vividly than your days in the house on Neibolt St...

You always had a strong imagination, which came with vivid dreams and equally vivid nightmares. In those dreams, Pennywise would come to you whenever you were scared. He'd pull you close in that tender way he never did in reality, fighting off every dark shape in your mind and then wrapping you in a kind of warmth you can't explain with words.

Sometimes, you'd apologize to him in those dreams -feeling an unnamed guilt- and he'd boop your nose with a soft and soothing "It's okie-dokie, Y/n."

Sometimes there'd be a red balloon waiting by your bed when you woke up, or maybe floating outside your school window. And on one specific evening, when the sadness felt like too much to bear, he appeared at the edge of your bed instead of the balloon. He hugged you and stayed with you until morning came, his glowing eyes softly illuminating the darkness. For once, they didn't scare you.

But as you grew up, you began to dream of him differently. In the nightmares, he'd chase you with a crooked smile and eyes that were dark with hunger, until you couldn't run anymore. Then you'd turn, tears streaming down your face, pleading with him and saying you were sorry over and over. You could never remember why you were sorry, but you knew that somewhere deep inside... you had hurt him. And somehow, you couldn't shake the feeling that it was you who'd let him down.

You tried to explain this to him, even though it was only in dreams -your Penny, who had watched over you. But he still seemed sad. So the dreams began to fade and he stopped showing himself altogether. Even then, you could still feel his presence, as if he was looking over you but choosing to stay hidden.

The few glimpses you have left are rather strange. Once, you had a dream with an uncanny intensity. It was the first different kind of dream -a dream where Pennywise was there as well, but puzzled, as you began to see him through a different lens. It left you feeling unsettled. Not sure what it meant, only that it somehow changed everything.

And still, each time you're scared, you call out for him in your dreams. You search, even while knowing he won't appear like he used to. Maybe it's because you had once blurted out that he was a killer, that he took innocent people like Georgie. It's all so blurry now, all these things you can't quite remember but can't entirely forget either.

You miss him.

You know Georgie's disappearance and so many others are somehow linked to that clown. But if his pattern is to stay on Earth for a year and hibernate for two decades (like Ben figured out), why then, hasn't he gone to sleep in five? It's almost as though he can't bring himself to leave.

Maybe you are asking too many questions. Or maybe you are starting to find the answers...

You're just a girl. And he… he's a boy in a strange, unfathomable way.

There are times when you think he's gone for good. But then there are other times -like when Oscar, the thick orange cat you've taken to caring for, curls up by you in a way that feels just a little too familiar. His stare, intense and watchful, feels more like an any ordinary cat.

You call him Oscar, but maybe -just maybe- you know it's him.

masterpost☁️

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[gaylittlerichie]

crosseyed & painless

6/6 chapters, 58k words

If he were the kind of person who analyzed these things, Richie would clock that he’s getting kind of depressed. Like, actually depressed. But even then there wouldn’t be much he could do about it. There’s no way to express ’Mom, Dad, being cooped up with jack shit to do is killing me, seriously killing me, let me out for a little White Widow and a couple rounds of Missile Command at Bill’s or send me to the rubber room’ and not sound like an idiot baby. Especially given his proven idiot baby tendencies.

[dear-trash-diary]

Page 4, a new day.

[lavenderstarsx]

The Drawing (Bill Denbrough)

Pairing: Bill Denbrough x Reader

Summary: One day when you were in the library a drawing falls out of a book you were reading- and the drawing eerily looks exactly like you.

Word Count: 1.5k

——————-

You made your way slowly to The Derry Library. The fall weather was now in full effect and you couldn’t help the feeling of the slight chill you felt while you walked. You were looking for more interesting books at the library- currently you were reading ‘The Great Gatsby’ which you knew was a classic- but it was required reading so by that criteria it made it fairly boring. You opened up the door to the brick building and stepped inside. Almost no one was there. It was in fact a weekend so not a lot of people liked to spend their two free days in a dusty old building that probably had a rat infestation. You did see someone you recognized there. The boy you saw was Ben Hanscom. He had his head in a book. You barely knew Ben- the only reason why you even recognized him was because he sat with Bill Denbrough at lunch. Ben had just joined the little friend group that called themselves ‘The Losers Club.’ Bill was in many of your classes. You pretended not to notice him but- man was it hard to. Bill took up most of your thoughts. You memorized the way he laughed- even though it was rare and almost only came out when the Tozier boy whispered an inappropriate joke into his ear during a lesson. Your friends didn’t approve of Bill. They usually called him a ‘freak’ or ‘weirdo.’ You mostly ignored them because in your eyes, Bill was perfect. He was kind, caring, and respectful. Something that half the school wasn’t. Then you snapped back out of your thoughts. You headed towards the fantasy section. You read a lot of fantasy books now ever since you rewatched The Princess Bride a couple weeks ago. You looked through a ton of books but none of them seemed good enough for you. Then you saw one- it looked rather basic. The book had a huge red dragon on the front with a knight giving a cheesy smile next to it. You quickly read the blurb on the back before slightly opening it. A medium sized piece of paper comes gracefully falling from the book. You quickly look around before picking the paper up. You froze. The drawing looked exactly like you. It had your signature y/h/c colored hair. It was like looking into a mirror. The drawing wasn’t signed but it did look weirdly familiar.

“Do you need any help, dear?” An older librarian woman asks you. You practically jump out of your skin when she says this.

“No ma’m i’m fine.” You say gingerly. You try to hide your blush as you find a table to start reading on. You picked the table behind Ben. You thought it would have been too awkward or weird to sit right next to the boy. You could barely focus on your book, you kept finding yourself staring at the drawing of you. You were terrified but also mesmerized at the same time. You decided to leave the library not long after. You held the drawing and your book close to your chest. On your way out of the library you gave Ben a small smile before opening the door back into the chilly air. You walked back home, and when you got to your room you quickly put your new book down and flopped onto your mattress. You stared at the drawing for a while. The detail was so intricate that it got your exact eye color down too.

Finally it was the end of the day, you were now in your pajamas and you were now ~finally~ reading the book you had gotten from the library. You found yourself enjoying the book a lot more. You slowly drifted off to sleep.

The next morning you had to get ready for school. You chose a pair of jeans and a navy blue long sleeved shirt. You quickly brush your hair before rushing out the door. You made sure to grab the new book that you had just gotten and stuff it into your backpack. The bike ride to school was nice. You thankfully didn’t run into anyone from The Bowers Gang and you made it easily to school. The drawing was still in the back of your mind.

“Hey y/n!” You hear your friend, f/n shout to you. You quickly lock up your bike and rush towards them. You smile at them. They start talking about their weekend- which was not truly THAT interesting but you still smile and nod your head. You were more of a listener type. You and your friend walked to class together. But that’s when you saw him. Bill was walking to the same class as you. He was walking with Stanley Uris. Bill then had decided to hold open the door for you and f/n. You tried to hide your blush as you say,

“Thanks Bill”

“No pro-b-le-m y/n.” Bill then gave you a smile which made your heart melt to the core. You and f/n quickly went to your seats. You sat exactly behind Bill. The teacher started teaching the class but it was terribly hard to focus. Bill Denbrough, had given YOU a smile. You couldn’t help but to smile yourself. Bill also didn’t seem to be focusing. He seemed to be writing something in his notebook instead, you narrow your eyes to see if you could read anything of it. You didn’t want to seem stalker-ish so you pretended to be looking at the chalk board. But that’s when you see what Bill was doing- he wasn’t writing he was drawing. Bill wasn’t doing much to hide what he was doing. He seemed to be drawing a girl. Suddenly you feel Bill’s eyes shift. You and him caught eachother’s eyes. Shit. Bill then turns a bright shade of red and hides the notebook away from you.

That was odd.

The class went by quickly. In your head you tried to connect the dots. And that’s when you realize- what if Bill was the one to draw that picture of you? He had to- the style of drawing looked exactly like the picture of you did. Why would Bill draw you?

Throughout the day, you found yourself distracted. The thought of Bill and his drawings lingered as you walked to your next class. You kept replaying the events of the morning in your mind. Bill’s drawing, and the drawing from the library looked all too familiar. It was too much of a coincidence. Right?

Finally it came time for lunch. You spotted Bill with his friends. They were all gathered together. You feel a pang of jealousy as you sit with at your own lunch table. You glanced at Bill. He seemed distracted in thought. You decided to gather your courage and decided to walk towards The Losers’ table. When you reached the table everyone went silent. They all gave you a weird look. Everyone’s eyes were on you.

“Hey uh- Bill can I talk to you- for just a quick second?” You say.

Bill gave you a surprised look before nodding a yes. You and Bill find a quiet place on the stairwell that led to the cafeteria. You tried to ignore the curious stares of all of Bill's friends.

“Wh-at is i-t y/n?” Bill asked.

You take a deep breathe before pulling the drawing from your backpack.

“I- i found this in a book at the library yesterday,” You held out the drawing to Bill. “Did you uh- well draw it? I saw you drawing in class today and it looks alike to this one.” Bill’s eyes widened as he studied the drawing.

“Ye-a-h I did.” Bill admitted- he did look very embarrassed. You felt weird. You felt every emotion possible and something else that you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“But why did you draw me?” You said the sentence quickly. Bill blushed.

"Be-because I… I like you," Bill replied, looking down. He was clearly embarrassed.

You froze as blood rushed to your cheeks. "You do?" you asked.

"Y-yes. And I, uh, have for a wh-while," Bill stuttered.

"I like you too, Bill," you revealed. You felt as though you were going to pass out, you were so happy.

Bills eyes widened again. He looked down meeting your gaze.

“Re-ally?” Bill questioned. A very small, shy smile formed on his lips.

You smiled, unable to control the large grin on your face.“Yeah, really.”

For a moment both of you stood there like time itself had stopped. Bill took a tiny step forward.

“So- u-h wh-at now?” Bill asked sheepishly.

You let out a small laugh trying to ease the tension,

“Do you want to go to the movies with me this weekend?” You replied.

Bill’s smile grew,

“I w-ould li-ke that.”

[seecarrun]

“The thing is, Eds, is that you and Stan are just a worse kind of rich person than the rest of us.”

You could cut the silence with the knife after that one.

“Excuse me?” Eddie scoffed, glaring at Richie from the chair across the room.

“Oh, I want to hear this,” Stan hummed, turning his attention to Richie as well.

“How, pray tell, are Stan and I ‘a worse kind of rich person’ than the rest of you?! We are literally all rich assholes!” He paused. “Mike excluded. You are a delight, Mike.”

Mike grinned.

Richie shrugged easily. “Well, the rest of us are rich because we’re artists, first of all.”

“Artists?!”

“Bev creates beautiful clothes, Ben creates beautiful buildings, Bill creates… books.”

Bill flipped him off.

“And you think dick jokes are fucking art?” Eddie demanded, in disbelief.

“It takes an artistic flair to be a good stand up comedian, yes,” he answered, smirking. “More than it takes to crunch numbers and balance spreadsheets, at least, you capitalist cog.”

“Hm,” Stan mused. “He’s not wrong.”

“Stan! Don’t agree with him!”

The argument continued into the night, with no clear winner even hours later.

[classroom-notes]

Part 3!! Bill and Richie :]

Prev / Next

[witchiewitchie]

The Losers Secret Santa Fest Collection is Finally Open!

We have five (of twenty total for the fest) submissions available for y'all to peruse!!!

They're all really good!! Definitely make sure to check them out!!! (For anyone who hasn't yet submitted to the collection: don't worry!!! You have until the 3rd of January to send your submission in!!!)

[cowboylikeekatie]

real ones would understand..

[ferretonfire]

REDDIE SHIPPERS IF UR STILL OUT THERE I HAVE RECS FOR U!!!

i present to u: my favorite reddie fics that i've accumulated over the years

hey there demons (its me, ya boy) - dharmainitiative its a buzzfeed unsolved au and its so silly

any fic by dumpsterbeagle but specifically "im talking head first heavy baby, cellar dive" bcs its sooooo good it makes me twirl my hair and kick my legs

hello, stranger - trashmouthrobin as it was the first reddie fic i ever read and it holds a special place in my heart <3

richie tozier versus the flu - loserchildhotpants bcs sick fics r cute

we don't talk about it (we don't have the time) - theletter_a its quite possibly my all time favorite reddie fic (enemies to lovers waterpolo au??? so random but SO GOOD)

i was born a believer, i believe in the way you call me - stormysirens my other fav reddie fic its just so cute and so well written

literally ANY FIC by Car on ao3 every ove ive read so far slaps 🙏😭 two i read recently were Pants On Fire and Cooking Up Trouble but there are so many more

these r all the SFW ones but if u guys want NSFW recs i can do those too :P

[moons-and-runes]

Fellow IT stans!! If i said i was currently writing an angst-filled reddie centric fanfic rn...would anyone read it?

If you would, then make sure to follow me on both AO3 and Wattpad, my user is Moons_and_Runes on both :)

[gaylittlerichie]

chapter 6 is now out! the fic is finished!

Pairing: richie tozier/eddie kaspbrak

Word count: 58,156 (6/6 chapters)

Winter 1993: between being grounded for a month, Bill roping him in on his super 8 werewolf movie and Eddie getting a girlfriend, Richie’s one step away from blowing his fucking stack.

thanks for reading :’)

[asexualasshat]

Rating: Explicit

Fandoms: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King

Relationship: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier

Characters: Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak, Sonya Kaspbrack

Additional Tags: Thanksgiving, Getting Together, Sonya Kaspbrack's A+ parenting, Making Out, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Modern AU, Tinder, I tried to make it funny so you be the judge on if I succeeded or not, Minor Angst, due to the Sonya Kaspbrack of it all, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse

Summary:

Richie sputtered. “You think I’m hot?” Eddie looked at him in disbelief. “Obviously. I’m trying to look like my life is going well. I’m not gonna do that by showing up with some unwashed weird-ass bitch. I’m showing up with the hot performer. That cool with you?” Richie nodded dumbly. “Yes. Yup. I’m in. Let’s fuck up your mom’s entire worldview. I’m in. You’re also hot.” Or Richie offers his services to ruin Thanksgiving in exchange for a meal. He gets far more than he bargained for.

[eddiekaspbrakirlsblog]

tumblr it fandom pls send help i have not written a fic in months and i keep starting projects and not finishing them. pls vote for what fic i should finish first.

[watchoutforthefanfics]

achievement unlocked 🔓 (part fourteen) || Streamer AU! Reddie (IT)

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration: this prompt + BIRDS OF A FEATHER by Billie Eilish

Summary: Richie liked to play video games, and by some stroke of luck, it became his job. Being primarily known as Trashmouth on stream, he found his own little group of streamer friends and they became intertwined: The Losers Club. It never did feel quite complete, though. Well, until, he got his very own backseat gamer in chat.

TWs: innuendos, lots of talk of sex (it's Richie), cursing, brief mention of toxic relationships, and shameless flirting.

[[A/N: Fun fact, the songs I use in this fic are based on me shuffling my playlist and what comes up so. Enjoy :))]]

Richie was kinda sick of the road.

It was the fourth morning, and he thought he was in Oklahoma. Maybe.

The state sign was a few hours back, and Richie's mind was kinda melting. Just interstate, miles and miles of roads and cars, and luckily, changing trees and skies. Otherwise, his brain was definitely on low power mode: not tired, but in a mental capacity kinda way.

Eddie was doing something, or so he assumed. So currently, he was listening to music to try and keep him sane.

"Can I call you Rose?" Richie muttered along, switching lanes (his exit was coming up), "-'Cause your fragrance takes over the room."

🎵 Can I call you Rose?🎵

"Darling~" Richie got more into it, tapping along the steering wheel, "-I wanna-"

A chime echoed through the speakers, cutting off the music. Richie blinked, turning to his phone: e.kaspbrak is trying to videochat.

Quickly, Richie adjusted the angle to face him more, and answered.

"Hiya, Eds," he spoke, in a cliché New Yorker accent, "-What can I do for ya?"

He flicked his eyes to the camera and caught Eddie setting his phone up and stepping back -holding up two shirts. He looked like he was in a store, one where no one would mind if he took up a little space.

The traffic halted in place, and Richie would normally be pissed but he had Eddie now. So, he was completely fine with it. Grateful even.

"Which one's better?" Eddie asked, holding up one and then the other, "The blue or the pink?"

Richie's eyes lingered on the phone for maybe a second too long, because-

"Look at the road, fuckface," Eddie chastised.

"Traffic is completely stopped, Eddie baby," Richie soothed, nearly immediately, "-I am perfectly safe. Plus, how am I supposed to help if I can't look?"

Eddie's lips pressed into a thin frown.

Richie took the moment to skim over Eddie, he was dressed like he was on a run (he assumed he was). Wearing a red tanktop and running shorts, Richie couldn't decide if it was hot or cute. Eddie was a mixture of both in his mind, honestly. And then his eyes flicked to the shirts, simple ones, one tanktop with a graphic on it (Kirby, Richie thinks), and the other a simple baby blue t-shirt with a white collar and sleeve cuffs.

"Whichever you want, Eds," Richie spoke, passively, "-They're both good."

Eddie frowned again, pushing them forward further, "I asked you, dipshit. I want your opinion. Which one?"

Richie pursed his lips, eyes dashing to the road (still stagnant), before snapping back over to the phone. He really looked at the two of them, really fucking looking. Because that's what Eddie wanted, and Richie wanted to do what Eddie wanted for the rest of his life, probably. Taking a minute, he imagined Eddie in each one individually. He could picture Eddie pretty clearly now, honestly; he felt like he knew him like the back of his hand.

Blue with white collar, Richie's mind tsked, graphic pink tanktop.

"Blue," he answered succinctly (Eddie nodded and put the pink tanktop out of frame), and asked, curiously, "-and why exactly did you need my opinion, Eds?"

Eddie picked up his phone, as Richie looked forward and watched the cars begin to move -he shifted all of his focus. Eyeing the exit he needed to get off on, Richie waited patiently for Eddie's response.

"You're my boyfriend, dipshit," Eddie remarked, "-I want you to like how I fucking look."

"Eds, you could wear a neon jumpsuit that was so bright it burnt my fucking corneas," Richie laughed, pulling off onto the new road (GPS said something about turning left so he did), "-and I would still love the shit out of you."

"I didn't say you wouldn't love me," Eddie clarified, pointedly, "-I said that I wanted you to like how I look. I know you fucking love me, but that doesn't mean I can't like... fucking please your tastes or some shit."

"Awe," Richie cooed, "-Eds wants to please my tastes-"

"Shut the fuck up, asshole, you know what I mean-" Eddie huffed out, exasperated, "-Like I like your hair this length. If you cut it short, I'd fucking kill you."

"You like my hair?" Richie laughed, "-The monster that just fucking sits on my head? The shit I don't even try to take care of? The-"

"Yes," Eddie interrupted, "-I fucking love your curls. Even though you don't give a shit about them, I will. I'll figure that shit out, and take care of them. Because you're never getting fucking rid of them, ever."

I want you to be here to stop me, forever. God, I would do fucking anything-

"Salon Eds," Richie chimed, in an infomercial sort of way, "-where you don't give a fuck, but he does."

"That's not... Whatever, the point is-" Eddie continued, "-I want to hear your opinion, just like you want to hear mine."

"I don't even have a fucking opinion on myself, Eddie baby," Richie laughed out, winking exaggeratively, "-I am completely moldable. In more than one way too, if you know what I'm saying-"

"Shut up," Eddie laughed out, and Richie wished he could look. God, he fucking loved him, "-You're such an asshole."

The rest of the ride was a lot of the same, just bickering and Eddie stayed on the entire time. Or well, did his best to. Richie could tell when he was getting tired, he got really fucking giggly (at least with Richie) and couldn't properly focus. So, when he noticed it, he'd send Eddie off to bed, refusing to entertain shit ("Someone wise once told me that not sleeping fucks with your brain function, Eds.") until he heard Eddie's little tiny snores -so quiet you wouldn't even catch it in person, probably. Richie somehow hoped he could.

Eddie had just fallen asleep (he was only an hour ahead of him at this point), and Richie was picking at his fingernails. His phone laid along the mattress, somewhere near his left hand. He just fidgeted and stared at the ceiling -thinking.

This was a big fucking deal, and the last time Richie made a big fucking deal in a relationship, his heart ended up splattered on the fucking sidewalk. It wasn't that he didn't trust Eddie, he did but it's just... It's a different wheelhouse to be with Richie all the time, not just in the moderation Eddie had.

Steve would probably say the same thing about this shit, that it's how he's wired and they're trying to change it but it's okay if it still seeps out sometimes. Because yeah, Richie was working on it, but he still felt... like shit.

He believed that Eddie really fucking liked who he was (loved it actually, indirectly said but still). He really fucking did. But that doesn't mean he, himself, does. And Eddie was fucking helping, constantly reassuring him and saying the shit that Richie just needed to hear. He really didn't know how Eddie did it, but he did. But still, this shit in him was rooted deep. Probably as soon as his fucking sister was born-

Ding.

benny.boy.official ✔️

hope you're having fun rich !!!

send pictures with Eddie when you get there ☺️

Richie stared at the message for a second.

Ben. Sweet, grounding, kind, Ben. Ben who would do everything in his power to believe the good in somebody, even if everything they fucking did was bad. And it wasn't even like he was naive, he just... he just believed the shit out of it.

Richie clicked call before he second guess it.

"Hi, Richie!" He chimed, soft and warm (always was), "-How's the trip going? 2 more days, right?"

"Heya, Benny," he smiled back, naturally relaxing at the sound of him, "-and yeah, tomorrow is the start of the fifth day. Only one more after that, and then I finally fucking get Eds."

"I know!" Ben grinned, and Richie heard the murmur of maybe a movie in the background, "-I'm so happy for you two. It's amazing, really, Eddie's so excited, I can tell."

"Yeah?" Richie asked, genuinely.

"Oh yeah," Ben reassured, "-We went to get coffee this morning and I've never seen him smile so much, Rich."

Richie's heart flipped in his chest (he hoped it never stopped doing that), and he grinned so brightly that it hurt. If he was on his stomach he might've been kicking his feet. Fuck, he really loved him. He hoped with everything in him that Eddie wouldn't get sick of him physically, god, please-

"Ben," he spoke, "-can I ask you a question?"

"'Course, Richie," he answered, maybe a little concerned, "-what's up?"

"Is... Do you think-" Richie started before exhaling a breath, "-Do you think I should be worried?"

"About what?" Ben asked, curiously.

"Well, um, everything," Richie laughed a little, nervous, "-I don't... There's no hesitation in my body about Eddie, seriously, not a fucking shred. But... What if it's different for him?"

Ben questioned further, "What do you mean?"

"What if Eddie's... not sure? Or-" Richie scrambled, "-what if he meets me in person and I... I scare him away? It's one thing to text and call me but to constantly be around me? I don't-"

"Richie, breathe," Ben interrupted, calmly.

Richie obediently did so. A long breath echoed out of his lungs, and his heart slowed.

"Okay, now," Ben began, gently, "-has Eddie ever told you that he's not sure? Or that he's hesitant?"

Richie pressed his lips together, "Well, no, but-"

"Rich, Eddie would tell you stuff like that," Ben cut him off, "-He's very straightforward, you know that."

Richie sighed, "Okay, yeah, so he's not hesitating. But... whose to say it won't be too much for him? All my shit."

"Richie, he's dating you. He cares about you," Ben hummed, "-You guys know each other inside and out because you want to learn it all. Both of you do. I don't think Eddie's going to run."

"But what if he does?" Richie asked, pathetically, "-I can't... Ben, if he can't handle me, I'm fucked. I don't think I can-"

"If anyone can handle you, it's Eddie," Ben laughed a little, before adding, "-except for maybe Stan and Patty."

Richie laughed a little too.

"The point being, if-" Ben made sure to stress that word, "-and I really don't think this would happen, okay? But if Eddie couldn't handle you, you'll be okay. It'll hurt, but all of us Losers will be here for you. Worst case scenario, you have us."

He let a breath rattle out of his lungs, "Yeah, I do."

"But Richie, I really don't think you should even think like that," Ben spoke, carefully, "-Eddie really, really cares about you."

"I know," Richie sighed out.

"I don't think he'd even want to leave your side, honestly," Ben hummed, "-When you're finally united, I don't think that Eddie will want to leave you alone again. Ever."

Richie pressed his lips together, as tears burned the backs of his eyes.

"Eddie's not gonna run, Richie," Ben echoed again. His voice soft and warm, it made Richie's head clear and eyes grow heavy.

"Yeah," Richie exhaled a deep breath, "-he won't."

He could almost hear the smile through the line, Ben's little soft one. The one that if you saw would make your insides feel gooey, because it was just so fucking kind. God.

"I love you, Benny," Richie spoke, light and scratchy.

"I love you too, Rich."

"Now," Richie switched gears, grinning, "-about Ms. Marsh-"

Richie woke up that morning lighter, Ben's words thrumming through his head. He was up, miraculously, at 7:30 (all these timezones were really fucking with his sleep schedule). And was currently debating getting ready and heading out early. Because he couldn't exactly wait, or sit still, it was fucking impossible for Richie Tozier. He was itching to fucking go, to shave down some of the hours to get to Eddie.

If he left early though, Eddie would probably freak out though (something about hours of sleep and blah, blah). So, he just decided to grab his phone and fidget with it for a while.

Richie liked to search himself up, he'll admit it. He liked to dive into his fandom like a super spy (like the boss working undercover in that one show). He did it for a lot of reasons, maybe to see what his fans wanted or what they were reacting well to. Sometimes just to see what shit they were up to. This usually spanned from a lot of different platforms: Instagram, YouTube (he loved watching edited compilations of himself), Reddit, and Tumblr primarily.

Today, his poison was Reddit.

r/trashmouthtozier

u/trashmeuptozy • 4d

What are our theories about Richie's disappearance?

2.4k upvotes • 1.7 comments

⬆️ ⬇️ 💬

toziers-texas-toast • 4 days ago

personally I think he's u-hauling

⬆️1.25k ⬇️89 💬

reddie-girlie • 3 days ago

all I know is that it probably involves 🍝

⬆️1.2k ⬇️27 💬

bouncing-baby-boy • 3 days ago

guys don't worry he's just on a side quest

⬆️1k ⬇️54 💬

not_on_my_crotch • 2 days ago

fucking ur mom

edit: ur dad sorry

⬆️967 ⬇️53 💬

Richie pursed his lips, letting out a sigh (a little of relief), he was actually kinda worried about the reception of him just up and leaving. But, they seemed to be handling it relatively well. They obviously had questions, as they should, but they weren't harassing him for answers, so it was good.

r/trashmouthtozier

u/tozier_babeyyyy • 2 hrs ago

Reddie Playing Minecraft (link)

my first ever reddie comp !!! Hope you guys enjoy :)

⬆️3.5k ⬇️22 💬

Richie stared at it for a second, before clicking the link. Maybe a little too quickly, they could have his IP address right now-

"Alright troops-"

And then it was off like a rocket, every single moment they spoke to each other -documented. He watched the village section more than once, of his own doing, just rewinding and watching it over and over. Watching Eddie shuffle behind him, like he'd known he'd protect him. God. What a stupid fucking way to feel about a game-

It carried on the same, all the moments he remembers (he doesn't think he can ever forget anything about Eddie to be fair) all the way up to the end of his stream. He watched himself do his outro, Eddie's Steve fidgeting with chests on his screen.

Laughing a little, he went to get out of the video, but-

BONUS ROUND: spaghetti talking about Richie to the other losers, flashed onto his screen -some very fast-paced royalty-free music following.

Richie paused for a second, what?

Now, he was looking at a clip from Bev's stream. Her camera up in the top right corner, Richie mindlessly noted that she had looked very pretty that day, good for her. Before focusing on her screen, where just a few steps in front of her Steve (Eddie) was watching Richie run around in circles with Bill. The iron golem, at that moment (it flicked between Bill and himself), was chasing him around the outskirts of the village.

"If he dies," Eddie suddenly spoke, and he watched Bev adjust her vision in the game to look at it, "-he doesn't like... Nothing bad happens, right?"

Richie smiled, gleaming a little bit.

"Nope," Bev smiled, bright, and popped the 'p', "-Worst-case scenario, he ends up back where we started and has to get back to us-"

Richie watched as Bill was suddenly launched into space and the chat snapped onto their screen.

big.bill was slain by an iron golem

He laughed a little at the memory.

"-Just like Bill will have to do now."

"Oh," Eddie responded, still watching Richie get chased around the village with a keen eye. Was he always looking at me?

"C'mon, Eddie," Bev interrupted, "-Let's steal some crops, and then we can tear down their houses for resources-"

"We sound like fucking colonizers," Eddie retorted, and both Bev and Richie started snort laughing in tandem.

And then, he was looking at Mike's screen, facing out onto the flower field. Eddie was stood right beside him, so he knew relatively when this was. Even heard himself a little distantly in the background.

"I'm staying here. I'm living here. My vote's for here-"

Mike was close to Eddie though, so now, he could hear Eddie laugh a little. A soft, sort of affectionate, of all things, laugh that made Richie's head spin a little. Okay, a lot. It made his head spin a lot.

Affectionate? For Richie Tozier? Praise fucking god-

"He's such an idiot," Eddie laughed out.

"In general? Definitely," Mike responded, laughing a little too, "-But for you? God help his brain cells."

"Yeah, well," Eddie spoke, soft, "-I'm an idiot for him to, so."

Ben interrupted the thought, "I agree, it's-"

And then, it cut again to Ben's stream, he was wandering over to where Eddie started building -assumedly from the direction of Bev's house. Unsurprisingly, Richie might add. He was half convinced they shared that house, actually-

"Do you think Richie will like it?" Eddie asked suddenly, Ben shuffling up to his side.

Richie grinned a little.

Ben grinned, big cheeks shot up with the warm motion, before adjusting his vision to see the frame that Eddie had built. It wasn't much, just the corners of each wall, but it was very meticulously done. Different blocks (which it should be said that Richie fetched him) all placed in their exact spot. It was pretty good for his second time playing, honestly. But, he might've been a little biased.

"It's really nice, Eddie," Ben chimed, cheerfully, "-but I do think you could build it out of dirt and Richie would still be stoked."

Very true, his mind agreed.

"I wanna actually put effort in," Eddie replied, flustered (Richie could see his cheeks all puffed up in his head), "-It's our house. Ya know? It's gotta be good."

"I think," Ben smiled, "-As long as you're in it Eddie, Richie will think it's good."

Eddie stayed quiet for a second, looking out at the house, staring. Richie waited with a breath.

"You're such a fucking sap, Ben," Eddie retorted, with no bite at all.

"Yeah, well, apparently," Ben turned to look at him, laughing, "-you are too."

And then, Eddie spoke softly, "Yeah, I am too."

Just like that, it cut to an end card. Subscribe button, next video and all.

Richie blinked, throwing himself back on the bed. Fuck, I love him. So much. Too much probably. Was he supposed to love somebody this much? Like with every fiber of his being? Every single cell? Every single fucking atom?

Taking a peek at the time, he quickly decided on sending a quick message.

trashmouth.tozier ✔️

good morninggggg eddie baby 💞✨️

hope you had dreams of fucking frolicking in meadows or some shit

Fuck it.

With a breath, he stood up and started packing. His tiny little bag, full of definitely too little outfits for a trip this long, but it would not be the first time he re-wore shit. So, he was okay with it. Until, ya know, he saw Eddie. He wanted to be wearing clean shit then (he saved his Marsh original that he liked so much for the occasion).

Humming along with a song that decidedly wasn't playing, grabbing all of his hygiene shit.

"Right now, he's probably dancing with a bleach-blonde tramp, and-" he murmured, before stressing out a word, "-and she's probably getting frisky."

Unzipping a pocket, he shoved his deodorant into it. And his cologne, fancy cologne, that he maybe only bought for meeting Eddie. But he did actually like it too. He wouldn't just buy it for Eddie (he totally did).

"Showing her how to shoot a combo," he sang louder, "-and he don't know-"

He heard his phone vibrate in his pocket. Felt rather.

e.kaspbrak is calling

Richie smiled a little, answering and putting it onto his shoulder (pushed up against the side of his head).

"Hey, Eds," he chimed, bright and smiley, and pulling his bag up off the floor. Day 5.

Eddie took a pause, and Richie heard maybe the scratch of a blanket. Had he just woken up?

And then, his voice came in quiet and sleep-slurred, "Hi, Rich."

Something warm shot through his toes, he'd never heard Eddie just woken up. This was new. And Richie wondered for a second if his hair was messy, or maybe his face had patches of red from where he'd slept. He'd get to see that soon, god.

"Awe, did my lil Spaghetti just wake up?" He cooed -half genuine and half teasing.

"The only thing that's right about that fucking sentence is that I'm yours."

Richie blinked. Mine, Eddie's mine. My Eds. 'I'm yours'. My Spaghetti. My boyfriend. My boyfriend, Eddie. Eddie's mine-

"Fuck yeah you are," Richie chimed -grinning bright and wide.

Eddie giggled a little (and Richie wondered if he was rubbing his eyes like a little toddler would), "Why are you up so early?"

"Dunno," Richie answered honestly, throwing his bag into the passenger seat (per usual), "-I just woke up this early, Eds. Aren't you normally up this early? Earlier, actually-"

"I don't have a job anymore, dipshit," Eddie explained, "-and I think I overdid it last run, so I slept in. Fuck you."

"Jeez," Richie laughed, connecting him to the radio, "-I was just asking a question. You wake up on the wrong side of the bed or something?"

"No," Eddie replied, quickly, "-Speaking of, I sleep on the left-"

Richie furrowed his eyebrows, "O-kay, Eds. What's-"

"-So, if you do too, you have to just fucking deal with it."

Oh.

Richie blinked, before answering awkwardly, "No problem, Eddie baby, I kinda just sleep in the middle."

"What the fuck do you mean-" Eddie mocked his voice, and Richie smiled (what a shithead), "-'I sleep in the middle'?"

"I spread out like a starfish," Richie clarified, listing, "-on my stomach, and sleep in the middle."

He could almost hear Eddie's nose scrunch up, "What the fuck? You're such a freak."

"What?" Richie asked, a little genuinely, "-Is that problem? I can just move over to the right side so-"

"No, it's not a fucking problem," Eddie interrupted, "-We're boyfriends, we can cuddle, idiot."

Richie blinked, Oh.

Cuddling with Eddie? Richie nearly pressed the gas to go fucking faster.

"Unless," Eddie paused, quieter -uncertain, "-Unless, you don't want to, I guess-"

"No, what," Richie clarified, swinging his hand around, and focusing on the car in front of him, "-Eds, that sounds like fucking... heaven. I just... I haven't thought about that shit. Because we were so far apart, it'd just make me sad as fuck-"

"Oh," Eddie spoke, blankly. Maybe a little flustered.

Richie wanted to see his face so badly right now that it made his skin itch. God, seriously-

"Yeah, well," Eddie pushed through his thoughts, "-you're gonna fucking kiss me when you get here, so. You better get fucking used to it."

Something swirled in his stomach. Kissing Eddie? Jesus, he hadn't thought about this shit at all. I get to kiss Eddie, god. In like a day-

"Why don't you just kiss me?" Richie laughed a little, splotchy red blush crawling to his cheeks.

"Because," Eddie answered, plainly, "-I want you to kiss me, asshole."

And I'd do anything you wanted, Richie's mind added.

"Yeah, okay, Eddie baby," Richie spoke softly, before switching up, "-As your celebrity crush, I know you've been dreaming of this moment for a long time-"

"Oh, shut the fuck up, dickweed," Eddie snapped back, short laughter cutting into the tone.

"-Although, I should clarify, I won't be as good as dream Trashmouth," Richie commented, "-I may not hold up against the competition. But jokes on you, you can't leave me for me so."

"I haven't dreamed about you kissing me, moron," Eddie huffed out, "-and you need to get over that shit."

"No way," Richie laughed, turning slightly, "-That shit is sticking forever. Sorry, Eds."

"It's not that fucking important-"

"It is," Richie interrupted, "-It so is. I was your celebrity crush! That's so fucking sick."

"How?" Eddie asked, curiously.

"Well," Richie drummed his fingers along the wheel, "-you fucking watched my streams and thought, shit, he's handsome-"

"That wasn't-" Eddie paused, exhaling a breath, "-You're handsome, but it wasn't... How do I fucking-"

Richie furrowed his eyebrows, "Eds?"

"It was like-" he started, before decidedly restarting, "-It wasn't like a celebrity crush, where you just kinda think they're handsome and just like their voice or some shit-"

Richie listened.

"-It was like... It was like having a crush on my best friend. Because you're just-" Eddie paused, "-You're just so... you on your streams, so fucking... human. Celebrities are intangible as fuck, but you... You wore ugly fucking shirts, and you have the dumbest fucking jokes, and your hair is a mess on your head. You're a fucking person, and I just... I just wanted that. Wanted you."

Richie pressed his lips together, heart skipping a beat.

"So, it was like-" he continued, slow but deliberate, "-like we were, ya know, friends, and I just knew you. Saw all that shit firsthand. And I liked that. Liked you."

He blinked. Fuck, I love him so much.

"Well," Richie let out a breath, smiling too bright, "-that just makes it more important so. You've fucked yourself."

Eddie paused, "Shit."

Richie started snort laughing, eyes clear on the road despite the laugh wracking through him. He heard Eddie break into his own laughter, and it only made him smile brighter because, god, did he love the shit out of Eddie's laugh. Well, he loved the shit out of Eddie in general-

"Are you driving already?" Eddie asked, after a few seconds of comfortable silence.

"Yeah," Richie replied, turning off where he needed to, "-I woke up early and got fucking antsy. I'm not a patient man, Eds."

Eddie hummed a little, almost like he was still a little tired, "How long are you gonna drive today, then?"

"Well," he pursed his lips, trying to remember shit, "-I've got like 14 hours left, maybe less. You won't let me push shit but I have already driven 9 hours in a day before-"

"Richie," Eddie warned.

"-I know, Eds, I know. But it's either I do the long drive today or tomorrow, and I really don't want to be fucking passed out on my first day with you."

"I'm gonna make you rest either way, dipshit," Eddie countered, "-You've been through every fucking timezone in America, your brain must be totally fucking fried."

"C'mon, Eds," Richie chimed, going into a cliché New Yorker accent, "-ya gotta show me the city."

"The shitty city?" Eddie clarified, flatly, "-The one I hate?"

"It's New York," Richie laughed a little, "-There's gotta be something worthwhile."

"I know the shit you're trying to pull. You're not gonna change my mind, Richie," Eddie replied, pointedly, "-Even if you do all those hours today, when you get here, you're gonna fucking rest."

Richie paused, continuing hesitantly, "So, you're okay with me doing the long drive today?"

"You don't," Eddie paused, seeming a little too quiet and working himself up, "-You don't need my permission to do shit, I didn't mean to-"

"Eddie baby, stop," Richie soothed, immediately, "-It's not a permission thing. It's a 'for your well-being' thing. I don't want to do shit that will stress you out. I refuse to do shit that would make you feel scared when I can't 100% be there to fix it. Or at least fucking... help you through it."

"Really?" Eddie questioned, quietly.

"Of fucking course, Eds, I love the shit out of you," Richie laughed a little, "-and the idea of you being stressed the fuck out, alone, makes me want to bite my own fucking head off. So-"

Richie took a breath.

"-are you okay with me driving that long today?"

Eddie paused, before slowly saying, "You promise you'll stop driving if you need to?"

"Absolutely," Richie agreed, "-I'm not gonna push myself beyond my limits, Eddie baby. I promise."

There was a spare second of silence, and Richie started drumming his fingers along the wheel. It was the beat of 'Before He Cheats' (the song he was singing before). And his eyes remained squarely on the road -straightforward and focused.

"Okay," Eddie sighed out, "-Okay, yeah, you can drive 9 hours. That's... I'll be okay."

"Yeah?" Richie asked, genuinely.

"Yeah, Rich," Eddie laughed a little, "-Just make sure to eat and drink properly, and maybe hit the rest areas so you can stretch out your freakishly fucking long legs-"

"Can't call 'em freaks, if that's how ya like 'em," Richie interrupted with a Southern accent, "-Mr. 'my type is tall idiots'."

"I was hitting on you, moron," Eddie huffed out, "-You're my first boyfriend. I don't even know if I have a type."

"Yeah, I kinda figured," Richie laughed a little, "-That text drove me fucking crazy for weeks."

"Yeah, well," Eddie cleared his throat, "-fucking imagine what I felt when you told me your type."

Richie paused. ("But yeah, Spaghetti, teeny little brunettes who are mean to me.")

"Wait," Richie started, "-you... I, your celebrity crush, described you, a teeny little brunette who is mean to me, as my type. And you... what?"

Eddie didn't say anything for a second.

"Don't make fun of me. Or else I'll kick your ass."

"Roger that, Spaghetti," Richie echoed in a growly voice (like it was coming out of a walkie-talkie), "-please proceed."

"I... Ugh," Eddie exhaled like the words hurt to say, "-I threw my phone across the room. It cracked my whole fucking screen-"

"You what?" Richie interjected.

"It's just-" Eddie started to explain, increasingly flustered, "-You were... you. And I was, I was the exact description. And it hit me for a second that, you know, you were kinda tangible. That, with like... the right fucking circumstances, I could have you. Easy."

Richie blinked, before sputtering, "You could. You did. You do, you do have me now."

"Well," Eddie paused, smiling (Richie could hear the cheesy grin), "-I guess I got the right fucking circumstances."

"The best ones," Richie chimed, heart rattling in his ribs (Eddie, Eddie, Eddie), "-maybe."

"Yeah, shithead," Eddie replied, "-the best ones."

[anubisandco]

Chapter one: You're not a dog

Patrick Hockstetter x OC (Delilah Huggins)

Summary:

Patrick didn't know what she was, and He hated it. Delilah Huggins was something he couldn't figure out, He hated her. He hated the way she made his chest feel. Delilah didn't know a single thing about Patrick, nothing substantial at least. But she wanted to know him, everything about him.

Someone has to lose the game. The game that Patrick was very good at cheating at.

~~~

At first, it had bothered her, The heavy feeling of his eyes on her all the time. It took a while to realize that Patrick just liked to watch, his gaze was usually cold and distant, his dark brown eyes filled with nothing not even hatred. Just simply uncaring, But he watched her every move nonetheless. 

Reggie had warned her ahead of time but Delilah didn’t actually understand what he meant until she had met Patrick in the school parking lot. She saw him lurking around Reggie’s usual parking spot, He reminded her of a spider. Long, and gangly he had the same spooky feeling as well. She could feel his eyes the moment she climbed out of the Trans am, his empty smile greeted her. He flicked his lighter open and closed, open and closed, open and closed. 

He never said a word to her as they stood in the parking lot listening to Henry yell at any student passing by, she watched the crowd thin as people made their way inside the brick building and tried to ignore Patrick at the same time. 

She shivered when she felt him standing behind her, his breath warm on her neck competing with the summer breeze. Even after Reggie very aggressively told him to knock it off, Patrick walked her to her locker and then to class. He flirted with her the entire time, and she couldn’t tell if he was serious or not. 

As the weeks went by He’d climb through her window and watch as she lay on her floor finishing her assignments, he never once took off his dirty black boots, even when he lay on her white bedspread. Patrick would lay in the same spot anytime he came over, his hands behind his head and he’d stare until he got bored. 

After a while, he’d make a big deal about the silence and get up, she barely paid attention as he stepped over her in those dirty boots to her record player. The one her mom gave her for her birthday like three years ago, Delilah would, in turn, watch him as he dug through her music collection until he found something he didn’t hate, which was hard to do. 

She’d sit up at this point in the night and close her notebooks and smile as he made himself at home on her floor next to him. 

“ This one again?” Her voice was playful and quiet, His only answer was to pinch her thigh and close his eyes. 

She couldn’t even remember where she got this record, maybe from her parents' garage before she had moved to Derry, the classical music was heavy in the room, and the disk hadn’t had a case when she took it. Delilah couldn’t understand why Patrick liked this one so much, he picked it almost every time. 

The summer breeze was hot like her blowdryer as it came through her open window, the white lace curtains she’d hung up moved with it. He had a habit of leaving the window open whenever he came through it. Delilah complained every time but he’d smile at her and she’d forget why she hated it so much. 

“D’you ever get bored of this place?” He asked, in his usual Patrick way, Delilah wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to understand where his head was at. He was so back and forth, he’d say one thing and then the opposite the very next moment. 

“ What do you mean?” She opened her notebook again trying to pick up where she’d left off on her math homework, His back was against her bed. “ Like Derry or this house?” 

Patrick looked up at her poster-covered ceiling, he had read them all at least twelve times over by now, his eyes landed on the same one every time. The Alice in Wonderland poster she had pinned right above her pillows, the Cheshire cat sat lazily on a tree branch smiling down at helpless little Alice, the woods around them were dark and swirly. 

“ Either, both, anything.” 

“ No, not really it’s all new to me still.” Delilah shrugged as she erased a stray pencil mark, “ But New York was definitely better.” She said decidedly. Her parents were supposed to move down in January with her, but then plans changed and it had been March. March came and went and now they didn’t even bother to give her a month. 

She didn’t hate living with her Aunt and Reggie, but it never felt like home, it felt like a sleepover. You could never really get comfortable. 

He grabbed onto a stray lock of hair twirling it in his fingers, he pulled on it just a little bit not enough to hurt but she could feel it. 

“ You know the longer you’re here the less likely you are to leave.” He whispered, her eyes met his. Delilah had no reply to this, She knew all the rumors about Patrick. It was hard not to hear them when that’s all anyone at school could talk about, even Reggie had to tell her all about him. 

He’d never been mean to her, he’d never tried to hurt her. But listening to the stories she couldn’t help but let her mind wander that direction. This could have been a threat, but her heart was telling her it wasn’t. He wouldn’t. 

But he really would. 

“ I don’t believe you.” She said and went back to her homework,  one quick glance at her clock told her it was almost time for Patrick to slither back out of her window. She never told him to leave because he wouldn’t, you couldn’t tell Patrick to do anything when you did he took it as a challenge. But he always left around the same time every night, eleven thirty-five give or take. 

Delilah used to complain about that too, how tired she would be in the morning He’d laugh at her and continue to make himself comfortable, it became a part of her routine. Some nights he’d come and others he wouldn’t, She never asked where he was when he didn’t come over. It didn’t feel right to ask that sort of question, they weren’t together and it didn’t matter if they were anyway, he didn’t like to answer questions. 

For everyone knowing so much about him they really knew very little about who he was, Patrick was a mystery he wouldn’t let anyone solve. 

She was sure Reggie knew he came over by now, but he never said anything to her about it, after he had his conversation with her about how he felt about the whole situation Reggie said nothing more on the topic. He wasn’t her father and he knew that, sure he’d keep an eye on her because he knew what kind of guy Patrick was but he had no authority to tell her that she couldn’t see him. 

People at school had noticed right away how Patrick treated her, Delilah was his new person of interest and that meant she was off limits. 

He’d slither up next to her when the Trans am would pull into the school parking lot, his arm would find its way around her shoulders. Which must have been a sight in itself, Patrick was tall and thin like a toothpick, and Delilah was short and thick. Her mother used to describe her as a pear, it used to bother her until it didn’t anymore. She never said a word to him about the way he’d touch her, choosing the route of ignoring him, and maybe just maybe he’d get bored. 

Delilah after a while wasn’t sure if she wanted him to get bored, it was wrong he was one of her cousins' friends, and maybe a creep. But there was something so alluring about Patrick, like a black cat on Halloween. 

The only time they were alone was in her bedroom late at night, any other time it was a crowded hallway or with the boys. 

It was a chilly Monday morning Delilah stood by her open locker flipping through textbooks, her tights were slightly itchy and she had forgotten her coat. She already knew without looking at the clock that she’d be late for first period. 

“Delilah.” Patrick’s voice was thick as usual, the way he said her name instead of hello made her heart to a back flip in her chest. He never said good morning to her, never said hello. He’d start every conversation with her name, sometimes he’d drag it out other times he’d purr like a cat. 

She didn’t look up this time as she continued to flip through her work. 

“Morning Patrick.” 

“ You wore my favourite skirt.” 

She looked down at the little black skirt she wore, it was totally not up to the dress code sitting high on her thighs, which is why she wore the tights. It wasn’t anything special, something she’d owned for years never thinking about. When she met his gaze he was smiling at her, he leaned casually on the locker next to hers. 

“ I didn’t know.” She offered with a shrug, this was the game they played, Delilah would act as if she didn’t care when they both knew it was a lie. 

“ Makes your ass look nice.” He leaned closer to her, another thing she noticed quickly was just how little he cared about personal space. Delilah rolled her eyes closing her locker. She shoved her work into her backpack, when she held it out to him she didn’t expect for him to actually take it. But he did. 

“ Jeez Patrick you sure know how to romance a girl.” She scoffed brushing past him, her arm touching his chest as she went. She hadn’t made it two steps before he already caught up, his long legs making it impossible to outrun him. Patricks' arm found its usual place around her shoulders, his thick coat sleeve was rough against the back of her neck. 

They walked down the empty hall toward her first class of the day, she wasn’t sure of his schedule but he always seemed to be waiting for her after her classes no matter where or when they were.  

“Admit it, you like it.” He had her backpack over his other shoulder, “It turns you on.” 

“Don’t be gross.” 

“That’s like asking a dog to stop barking babe.” 

Delilah could do nothing but roll her eyes in that moment, unsure of what else to say to him. To be fair she never quite knew what to say to him, having a conversation with him was like taking a toddler to get shots at the doctor's office. Most of the time he'd dodge you or simply ignore you, other times it was impossible to get him to shut up. 

He mostly did the second one when Henry was around, he liked to get on his nerves. Nothing made Patrick happier than seeing Henry red like a tomato, yelling terrible words. 

She stopped at her classroom door and he quite literally dropped her bag, she winced at the sound of everything inside hitting the floor. 

He didn’t stop walking only turned around to face her as he continued on his way, Delilah knew he wasn’t going to whatever class he was supposed to be in right now. She was never really sure where Patrick went and she was certain she didn't wanna find out. 

“ I’ll see you after class Patrick.” She bent down to pick up her backpack, He smiled his toothy grin, his cold eyes locked on hers. 

“Delilah.” 

~~~

When the thin wooden door opened after the bell rang, she was greeted with the sight of Patrick leaning casually against the wall across from it, his long black coat was an ink stain on the drab cream wall behind him. 

Reggie had just got done hissing something in his ear by the time she reached them through the sea of people. Her cousin seemed tense, which was normal when he was around Patrick. 

Reggie was a tall kid for his age, he was thick too but unlike Delilah, his was mostly muscle from working on his car and often times his mom's too. He was by no means a scary kid though, the way he held himself told everyone he wasn’t really the threat they thought he was, sure he could kick ass when he needed to. Or wanted to for that matter. But he was always gonna be the last one to throw a punch, he hated fighting and always had. 

It was always a mystery to Delilah how he got mixed up with Henry and Vic, someone like him was meant to be the hero. 

Growing up Delilah had always been the one to get into fights in school, and Reggie would always be the one to bail her out. He was her best friend. 

“ What’s going on?” She asked cocking her head, she had to speak a little louder in the hallway with all the voices echoing around them. 

“ Your Rottweiler got out of its yard.” Patrick drawled crossing his arms over his chest but didn’t get off the wall, his eyes traced her body then flicked over to her cousin when he added, “ We all know just how much I love dogs.” 

Vic had made a joke a few days ago about Reggie being her guard dog of sorts, something Patrick clearly hasn’t forgotten. The warning he gave hit home as Reggie took a step back the frown still on his face. The rumor about the fridge and all the missing pets jumps to her mind. 

“He’s more of a retriever.” Delilah shrugged walking in the general direction of the lawn, not caring to be in the middle of their pissing match this time. The sound of Patrick laughing followed her. 

Reggie grumbled something to him before catching up to her. 

“ Mom’s gonna be gone tonight I invited Henry and Vic over.” He told her gently, and with a much different demeanor than he had moments ago. “ You don't have to stay.” Reggie really was all bark and no bite. She smiled at the thought. 

“ If you’re ordering Pizza I’ll stay.” She offered, in reality, she didn’t mind hanging around the boys, sure Henry wasn’t her favourite person in the world, and she was far from his. But all in all they weren’t too bad, unless you were one of the freshmen or literally anyone else. 

“ Deal, Vic’s gonna bring over some movies too.” 

~~~

“ What would I be?” 

The sound of Patrick's voice startled her, Delilah had been painting her fingers and toes in her room, the door was closed but the sound of the three boys downstairs could still be heard, and she dropped the brush. 

Her window had been closed but not locked, He was halfway in when he had spoken. For someone as tall as he was his silence was terrifying. 

Delilah was Screaming before she could process anything, but his hand covered her mouth before she could really make any noise.

“ No, Delilah.” He whispered he smelled like fire and something she couldn’t explain, his skin was softer than she thought it’d be. His hand left her face but didn’t go far, it rested on her bent knee, she’d been painting her toes when he scared her, and the nice pastel blue was now all over the carpet. 

 Her eyes were still wide, his face just inches from hers, he scanned her face waiting for an answer to his previous question. 

“ W-What?” 

“ What would I be, if Belch is a Retriever, what am I?” 

Oh. 

She hadn’t even thought about that since it had happened, she couldn’t help but wonder why it was so important to him. She just stared at him for a while, he barely even blinked. Patrick would wait all night if that’s what it took, he’d get his answer. 

Henry downstairs laughed very loudly at something Vic said causing Reggie to tell him to shut up, their movie could be heard in the silent room. The breeze caused her to shiver a little. He tilted his head to the right. 

“ You’re not a dog.” She offered quietly, “ You’re like a cat. Why?” her question would go unanswered, he broke their eye contact to pick up the bottle of nail polish he looked at it for a long moment. 

“ I like the blue.” 

“ Thanks.” 

He sat back away from her, not far his knee touched her leg still because he had to. He still wore the clothes he was in at school but his jacket was long gone, there was mud on his shoes and on the bottom of his pant legs. He’d been in the woods. 

Patrick set the small bottle back on the book she’d been using as a flat surface, So he was staying for a while then. Delilah picked up the brush and began to finish painting her toes, it was strange that she didn’t even really feel him there anymore, her body wasn’t on edge like it had been when he first started hanging around. 

In fact she sorta liked him being around, the move to Derry had been harder than she would have liked to admit to anyone, even Reggie. Patrick coming around and staying was one steady thing she didn’t know she’d have. 

She’d finished the first coat and was about to begin the second when he spoke. 

“You’re not a dog.” He paused and she stopped moving, the brush hovering over her pinky, “ Or a cat, I don’t know what you are and I don’t like it.” 

It wasn’t often that Patrick offered up things like that, he rarely said anything of substance, a gross joke or comment. Something disturbing or even just making fun of some of the younger kids at school. 

She looked at him through her lashes, afraid that if she’d make eye contact she’d realize she was dreaming. His already dark eyes were pitch black in the light of her lamp, She once had asked Reggie if Patrick was always a starer. He simply laughed and nodded as if it was some sort of joke she didn’t understand. 

Patrick was always the last one to break eye contact, like a contest of sorts. 

“ I’m sorry.” Delilah didn’t know what to say to him, most of the time she didn’t know what to say to him, he always took her words. 

“ Don’t” He stood up quickly startling her again, she put the brush back in the bottle and watched him as he moved back to the window, she was afraid he was leaving already, like she’d ruined it. 

Delilah was taken by surprise when he instead closed her window with a dull thud, cutting off the strangely cold breeze. She’d been freezing but she hadn’t said anything knowing he wouldn’t care, the tank top she wore to bed had done nothing against the Derry night air. Of course, he’d noticed her shivering, the goosebumps on her arms, it was strange for him to do something about it. 

She almost told him he could take his shoes off. Almost. 

“ I should go downstairs.” He turned back to her with his shit-eating grin, his mood taking a sudden turn after his almost serious conversation, “ Say hi to Belch.”

“ Patrick he’ll kill you if he sees you come from my room.” Delilah stands too, painting her nails long forgotten. 

His smile only widened as he pushed past her, his shoulder hitting hers on his way past her. Patrick opened her bedroom door and she could only watch as he stepped out into the hallway and looked around. 

“ C’mon Delilah.” He held out his hand for her, she looked from his open palm to his face. Just when she thought she was finally getting to know just who he was Patrick would throw a curve ball. She grabbed a jacket from her bed and set her hand in his, He held on tight as he marched down the stairs into the living room. 

Whatever joke Vic had been making about the shitty horror movie they had on died on his lips as he caught sight of Patrick and her on the stairs together. The soda can in his hand lowered from his mouth which hung open. 

Reggie turned around in his chair to see what he was watching. Delilah wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him stand up so fast before. The paper plate with his slice of pizza fell to the floor with a wet thump. Even Henry was at a loss for words, his eyebrows melted into a frown easily. 

“ What the fuck?” Henry was the first one to speak. 

“ Delilah!” Reggie's voice was loud, she dropped Patrick's hand at the sound. She wasn’t afraid of him, but she also didn’t wanna make him mad, this was Reggie after all. She stepped around Patrick to stand between him and everyone else. Vic took a small drink of his soda eyes flicking between an absolutely irate Reggie and a grinning Patrick. 

“What is he doing here, When did he even get here?” Reggies fired off question after question, “ Why was he in your room?” He made his way closer. 

“I’ve been nice to her Reg.” Patrick’s voice was sickly sweet, using the nickname Delilah had given her cousin years ago.

“ Shut up Patrick!” Delilah threw over her shoulder, sometimes she hated him she really did. “Reggie, nothing happened he’s just weird, I didn’t invite him over, even if I did nothing was gonna happen.” She directed these words at her cousin, His eyes narrowed. 

“ Something could have happened.” 

“ Patrick.” Her voice was another warning, if he kept it up she’d kick his ass before Reggie even got the chance. 

“ Delilah you know how I feel about it.” Reggie wouldn’t even look at Patrick now, “ He’s a sicko.” 

“ Yeah, we’ve covered that. But I've discovered he’s very persistent when he wants to be.” She took a step closer to Reggie crossing her arms over her chest, Her voice got quieter her eyes jumped to Henry and Vic who watched quietly. She could tell Henry was waiting for a fight to break out ready to jump in, it didn’t matter that he didn’t care. Henry was always willing to throw hands. Vic watched with a more worried look on his face, he would be the one to try and de-escalate the situation if need be. 

“ Listen, Reggie, I’m smart I’d kick his ass if he tried anything I didn’t like. You know I can handle myself.” He watched her his shoulders dropped letting go of the tension just a little bit. 

She was right and he knew it, Delilah was strong and more than capable. Reggie always saw her as someone he had to take care of just like his mom, they were his two favourite people and the fact that someone like Patrick and weaseled his way into her life bothered him like nothing else. 

He’d seen how Patrick treated any of the girls he’d been with before, the list was long and it always ended with someone, always the girl getting hurt in some way or another. Reggie would be damned if he’d let it happen to his cousin. 

“ It’s not you, I’m worried about.” He watched Patrick over her head, the tall boy smiled and waved a little. He knew what he was doing, and Reggie wasn’t sure just how far he’d go with this thing of his. With a guy like him, no one knew where it’d end. 

Delilah smiled and shook her head. 

“ Can we all just sit down and finish this movie?” She asked looking to Vic for help, He nodded and sat back down turning to the tv that had previously been forgotten. “ You and I can talk later Reg.” She offered knowing she’d dodge the conversation for as long as possible. 

Whatever was going on with her and Patrick she wasn’t really ready to talk about, with anyone for that matter. 

She felt Patrick move to stand close behind her, his breath on her neck. 

[seecarrun]

“I can’t believe I didn’t realize it was you.”

Ben smiles and absently runs his thumb along the back of Beverly’s hand. “Big Bill’s pretty charismatic, I don’t blame you for thinking it was him.”

Bev blows a raspberry and ruffles his hair, sticking out her tongue. “Oh shush, new kid,” she laughs. “You Got It.”

Ben grins at the New Kids on the Block song title drop, and Bev grins back at him, as they fall into a comfortable and casual cuddle. After a moment he sighs. “It took us a while, but at least we figured it out, unlike some people.”

Bev makes a curious little hum. “What people?” she asks. Ben blinks down at her in surprise.

“What people?” he repeats. Bev nods, so he chuckles. “Uh, Richie and Eddie?” he says, like it’s obvious.

“What?!” Bev practically screeches, spinning to look him face to face. “Richie and Eddie?!”

“Yeah?” Ben says, surprised but amused. “I mean, Richie for sure, but I’m like, eighty percent sure Eddie is—“

“Richie and Eddie?!” Bev cries out again. “Our Richie and Eddie?! Since when?!”

“Since middle school, at least,” Ben laughs. “I thought it was obvious!”

“No!” Bev gasps, looking like her entire world has just flipped upside down. “I mean, yeah, okay, maybe I can kinda see it looking back, but…” She shook her head. “How did you know?”

“Lovesick recognizes lovesick,” he says with a shrug. “I don’t think Eddie realized, well, anything that was happening around him, honestly, but Richie was absolutely smitten. It was adorable.”

“Oh my god,” Bev breathes, and then goes quiet, and Ben can practically see the gears turning as a mischievous little smirk creeps across her lips. “We need to meddle,” she declares.

Ben cringes, but it’s definitely more of a grin. “Do we?”

“Uh, absolutely! Call for reinforcements,” she says, beaming, “let’s play matchmaker.”