#maybe i should make a birdwatchers tag at this point

[viric-dreams]

As Estival draws to a close, two exhausted spies meet under a parasol.

Meeting with Jones and @zeebreezin’s Shaw below:

[Mercifully, you seem to have a few days off after the last of the Sixth Coil business is over. Aside from a few ‘teary farewells’, all that you’re left with is to draft up your report on the situation and get back to it. You receive a rather substantial parcel in a dead drop - one you scarcely use, these days. Inside the tin case is nothing more than a military standard medical bag and a pouch of what claims to be genuine Ethiopian coffee beans. The typed note attached is brief. The cipher is two layers deep, but standard issue enough.] 

“Hope the games were entertaining. Was curious about your report’s details. Is your calendar free for a brief meeting? Your choice of location. – S.” 

[… Well, shit.]

[The letter you receive back in the dead drop is in standard encryption. No personal flair.]  “Summerset quad. Name your time.”

[The choice of location is clever—the quad is quiet, but not empty. Any passing eyes might recognise Professor Shaw. Does he hope to keep you in check somehow? The fact that it’s Summerset’s campus, the location of his forged diploma is not lost on you. He wants you to meet him on his turf. Making some sort of a play at your own meeting might be out of pocket for an agent normally, but he’s crafty. You can’t dismiss the possibility entirely.]

[You receive a response promptly - specifying the time with no further details. He’s chosen to meet up at a quiet hour on the edge of evening, dead in the middle of the week. A time where few will be milling about, but you’ll most likely be seen by exiting students and the like. But why wait a few days? Does he plan to hide his men in the crowd?]

[The specified time arrives without fanfare. Despite your best efforts, you can’t peg any disguised agents among the chattering student body, nor any watchers tucked away in vantage points. This is the opposite of comforting.] 

[You do, however, see him. Sitting alone on a bench amongst the neatly tended to pebble gardens. He has his parasol in hand - the shimmering translucent thing casts a spray of colour across the rocks as he spins it. The gesture would look absentminded in another’s hands. It’s hard to pull your eyes away. Soon, you’re face to face.]

“Jones. It’s good to see you.”

[It looks like he just snuck away from Benthic - still in a warm professor’s garb. Beyond the twisting light cast by the parasol, though… god, he looks like shit - about as tired as you were before that 16 hour crash, at least.] 

“I trust you’ve been enjoying the quiet after the storm?” 

[Jones nods in acknowledgement and takes a seat on the adjacent bench, not at the far end, but with a certain degree of distance between you. At this angle, the lamplight throws the planes of his face into shadow, sunken eyes and hollow cheeks receding from view. Up close, his suit seems to swallow his frame. Its shade does him no favours either, the deep olive drawing the colour from his skin. His gaze stays forward, silently tracking the passersby.] 

“I don’t miss the chaos.” 

[He finally says. It’s not a direct answer to your question.] 

“You said you wanted to talk about the report I’d sent. Was something insufficient?”

[The parasol casts odd shadows as he rests it over his shoulder. The edges of the technicolor shade kiss your fingertips as they rest atop the bench’s table.]  

“No, it was perfectly sufficient, trust me. I’m merely putting together a report - and I’ll need the testimony of all the traitorous Kolomans that stayed behind despite their orders.” 

[He offers a small smile, before placing a few documents on the table - close to him. You’ll need to lean over to reach them.] 

“I’m looking to triangulate where most of your countrymen hail from based on the languages they were speaking. Check these over, fill in any you noticed, and so on… busy work. Were you expecting anything else?”

[Jones is trying to look at you, though his eyes involuntarily flit to the kaleidoscope patterns cast by the parasol. His fingers twitch, drumming a pattern onto the stone bench, a nervous habit he usually keeps under control. When you place the documents on the table, his hand withdraws, curling into the inner pocket of his jacket.] 

“I see… I’ll make sure it gets back to you in a timely manner then.” 

[His hand emerges from the pocket, holding a pair of reading glasses. He slips them on and reaches forward to take the documents from their resting place.] 

[Shaw’s expression is rather pleasant, though you can see the hint of something in his eye. Is that… fondness? Some level of ease? Worry? Under the parasol’s drifting colours, it’s hard to tell. He leans forward as you do, placing a hand - lightly - on one of the documents. Preventing it from being moved.] 

“…What were you expecting in this meeting, Jones?” 

[You’re both under the parasol’s canopy, now. He twirls the thing’s handle back and forth, casting a smattering of light across your face. A need to fidget he’s usually able to swallow.] 

“I’d like to know, if you’re able to share.” 

[Back and forth.] 

“You’re one of my favourite agents, after all.” 

[Back and forth.] 

“And your wellbeing is far more important than some busywork.” 

[Back and forth.]

[Jones’ hand freezes to a stop when yours comes down on the document. His eyes dart to yours, wide and magnified through the lenses. There’s a flicker of emotion in there, but before you’re able to parse what it is, it’s clouded over. His eyes jump across your face, tracking the swirling colours of the parasol across your skin.]  

“I don’t know. I never seem to know with you. An end to all of this, maybe. After all this waiting.” 

[He tugs the document free with a forceful pull.] 

“I can’t do this much longer. What do you want?”

[There’s a little twitch of his lip as the trap springs shut - a trap set for two. Underneath the colours cast down, Shaw lifts his hand the second you tug.]

 “What do I want..?” 

[His voice is soft, still touched with a bit of pleasing calm, but it’s in a natural accent you’ve never heard before - clearly working class Scouse. Another mask slipped free.] 

“I want so many things, Jones. It’s sickening. But right now, I want to know you. To understand why you’re here, why you’re doing this. You… fascinate me. You have for quite some time.”

[For once, Shaw stops spinning the parasol, a break in the intensifying rocking motion. He takes a deep breath, leaning back just a tad in his chair.] 

“…Pardon me, I haven’t been sleeping well. Does that answer your question?”

[Jones wasn’t expecting you to let go, and the document comes free with more force than he’d intended—his arm rebounding into his chest. When you let the parasol come to a rest, something in your prismatic hold seems to break. He blinks up at you, expression still clouded, but something sharper jutting out from under the surface: alarm. Is it from your answer? Or the knowledge that he’s unable to hide what he’s doing.]

 “No.” 

[No? Is it a rejection or an answer to your question? Jones pulls back, his free hand sweeping the glasses off of his face. He has no intention of reading through the documents now. Under the lamp’s gas light his face morphs again, slipping on that familiar neutral expression you know so well. No indication of the turmoil below, though you know he must be piecing together what he’d just let slip.]

 “I’ll ensure this finds its way to you soon.” 

[He raises the papers pressed against his torso to punctuate the sentence. Then,] 

“Am I free to go?”

[With clearer eyes, you almost see him catch his breath as the parasol stops spinning. He swallows down an unknown emotion that had begun to creep into his expression. His gaze never stops studying you. Tracking each and every reaction.] 

“…Fair enough.” 

[Is that meant as reassurance? Acceptance of your answer? Some acknowledgement of your alarm? Either way, whatever frenzy seized him a moment ago seems to have faded. Shaw’s practised accent is back in place when he speaks again.] 

“Of course. I won’t keep you.” 

[He smiles, adjusting his grip on the parasol before standing. Your technicolor shade is ripped away.] 

“But… Do try and enjoy the reprieve after the games, won’t you?”  

[The smile and assurance you receive in return tells you nothing you don’t already know, but it’s disappointing nonetheless–he doesn’t trust you. As soon as you take a step away, he sets the glasses back onto the bridge of his nose, leafing through the documents. You don’t have to turn around to know he’s going to keep doing this until long after you’re sat back in your office. And then he’ll head home and look at them again.] 

[He might just process some of the words that second time.]

[saintchrollo]

goodmorning chrollo sluts. kiss kiss. kg teacher reader, unbetad like normal

“what are you doing out of bed?” chrollo’s voice is a pout, drawing your attention away from the toaster.

“i have to go to work, lovely,” you say, keeping your voice gentle.

chrollo pads across the kitchen, sweatpants dangerously low, sleepiness clear on his face. “you do look lovely,” he mumbles. “come back to bed.”

“i can’t do that, angel,” you say, letting him wrap his arms around your waist and rest his head on your shoulder. he takes a deep breath. you pull down peanut butter and honey, waiting for your toast.

“yes you can,” chrollo insists, “you smell so good.”

you can’t help but chuckle and pat chrollo’s forearm. “thank you, you bought the perfume for me.”

chrollo let’s out a hum of contentment. “i make such good choices.” one of his hands travels up your chest, hugging you close. “are you sure you have to work today?”

“it’s a tuesday, angel. i have to work every workday,” you affirm, beginning to make your toast for the day. “do you want to visit me for lunch? i have free lunch and the kids have gym today.”

chrollo raises his eyebrows, resting his chin on your head to watch you assemble your breakfast. “ill pick up sushi,” he promises. “do you want me to drive you in?”

“i appreciate it, but i’ll be alright on my own,” you turn in chrollo’s arms, placing your hand on his cheek. “i think you’re too sleepy to drive, baby. i’ll see you for lunch, okay?”

chrollo nods and leans down to give you a kiss. “okay,” he places a few kisses around your face, to the moles on your cheekbones and your neck, then smoothed out your dress, smiling softly and shaking his head. “darling, if you were my teacher...”

you chuckle fondly at the comment. this wasn’t the first time you’d heard it, and it wouldn’t be the last. “what? you’d help me collect all the blue books?”

nodding, chrollo cups your cheek again and gives you another kiss. “yes ma’am,” he pulls away reluctantly, and follows you to the door.

“i’ll eat lunch around 11:30,” you say, “and i’ll be free until oneish.”

“it’s a date.” chrollo wraps his arms around you again, his hands sliding down and grabbing your ass before resuming a normal hug. you chuckle into his chest.

chrollo kisses your hand and helps you into your coat, handing your purse over and kissing your forehead. it’s so warm and domestic, chrollo soaking up the stark contrast to his normal, thieving life.

—

“hi besties! hi besties!” you call, trying to wrangle your group of rambunctious kindergartners. it takes a few moments, but they all quiet down and look up at you. “besties, let’s look at the clock! what time is it?” you ask, pointing up at the clock.

there’s a resounding cheer for lunchtime. giggling to yourself, you quiet them down again. “let’s all get our lunchboxes and go line up at the door!” you get up from behind your desk and wait patiently, before continuing the explanations. “today y’all are eating lunch with mr. angelo’s class, okay? so we’re going to go walk down to his room. how do the best besties walk in the hall?”

immediately, the kids blow the cheeks out, putting a bubble in their mouths. you smile and clap for them, before leading them down a few doors. while you’re ushering the kids into the room, you smile when you see chrollo walking through the halls, holding a rather large box tied with a black cloth and a neon yellow visitor tag on his shirt. you give him a tiny wave before pointing to your room, which he ducks into.

you wish your students one last good lunch before heading back to your room, shutting the door behind you. chrollo is sitting in your nice desk chair, looking through your treasure chest of treats for well behaved students.

“see anything you like?” you ask with a smile, coming over to give him a kiss.

chrollo pulls out a cheap plastic spider ring. he holds it up to you. “marry me?”

“of course!” you say, holding your hand out to him. he slides the ring up against the engagement ring that is already there. chrollo smiles and kisses your knuckles before he stands to get a different chair for himself.

he ends up with your old office chair, dragging it over and unpacking lunch for the two of you. a few rolls of sushi and rice, as well as some soup.

“did you make all of this?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

chrollo nods. “it didn’t take too long. and i’ll admit, the miso was already in the fridge. so you made that.”

grinning, you lean over and kiss his cheek, “thank you, angel. i appreciate it.”

“i appreciate you,” chrollo responds, easy as breathing. it makes you blush.

midway through your meal, your conversation is disrupted by the door opening quickly and footsteps running in.

“sorry miss [first] i forgot my gym uniform!”

you watch as one of your most rambunctious students rushes in, looks through his backpack, waves at you, then rushes back out.

“those don’t sound like walking feet to me, ryan!” you call after him. his shoes skid on the tile and he rushes back.

“coach didn’t give me very long!” he whines.

you frown and beckon ryan over, grabbing a sticky off your desk and writing out a message in neat cursive. please give my students time to walk in the halls ♡︎

handing it to ryan, you look him in the eyes. “walk, okay? and give this to coach.”

ryan nods seriously. he then looks at your plate. “what are you eating?”

“sushi,” you say.

“can i have some?” ryan asks hopefully.

“sorry bestie, i can’t share with you. you need to get back to class, though. use your walking feet!”

ryan gives you a thumbs up before rushing back out. he immediately starts running again.

chrollo raises his eyebrows in amusement. “bestie?”

“maybe you should call the troupe your besties and they’d argue with you less,” you point out. it makes chrollo laugh.

“i adore you,” he says, shaking his head. “are you sure i can’t take you back home right now?”

“i cant, angel. we still have science class.”

chrollo raises his eyebrows. “what are you doing today?”

“birdwatching,” you say seriously. “it’s so beautiful out today.”

“is that what they’re teaching in schools nowadays?” chrollo asks with a frown.

“i’m not explaining dante to a bunch of five year olds, chrollo,” you say.

“i think you could,” chrollo says. “you’re very good at it.”

you reach over to pat chrollo’s cheek, only to cup his jaw. he turns his head to kiss your palm. “let me take you out tonight.”

“where are we going?” you ask.

chrollo shrugs. “i haven’t decided yet but i want to show you off.”

you blush at that. “alright. i’ll save some energy for you.”

your nice, desk lunch gets cut short by a visit from ryan again, only this time he has another note for you, and immediately after delivering it, sits at his table and puts his head in his hands. you look over at him before back to chrollo. the two of you are equally interested in the contents of the notes.

ryan can’t keep his hands to himself. please have him clean something to learn his lesson. sorry for interrupting your planning period.

“merde,” you whisper under your breath, looking to chrollo apologetically. “sorry angel, you gotta bounce.”

chrollo sighs and gathers the tupperwares from lunch. “it’s alright, my love. i’ll see you tonight. i’m just glad i got to steal a few moments with you.” he leans down to give your cheek a kiss, and you hold up a folder to hide the minimal pda.

after the door shuts behind chrollo, you look to ryan. “alright, bestie. what happened?”

[wren-of-the-woods]

Thanks for the tag @niphredilien!

Rules: write the latest line from your WIP, but with a twist — choose a line from a pet project you WANT to be your WIP. Then tag as many people as there are words in the line.  Make a new post, don’t reblog.

“Well, I should be heading back. I’m sure traffic is going to be a nightmare. Text you later?”

Geralt nodded, and Jaskier grinned. When he got in his car, the smile was still on his face.

Maybe coming to San Francisco hadn’t been such a bad idea, after all. 

A Witcher modern AU where Geralt is an intense birder/birdwatcher/nature enthusiast and Jaskier is a tourist from across the country. I got to this point a few days ago and haven’t figured out how to continue (or if I should just end where I am), but I still really love the idea, so I’m hoping to get back to it soon! 

~

Tagging @gellalaer​ (thanks again for tagging me on that other thing! sorry I took so long to respond lol) @leaena2go (that write-three-sentences thing considerably sped up my progress on this story, so thank you! XD) @norationalthoughtrequired (I hope your writing’s going a bit better!) @lferion (hope you’re doing well :D) and all the people I’m too tired to think of right now. No pressure of course <3

[suddenlydeer]

@scarlettisbringingstexyback ‘s Stex OC Questionnaire!

I’m going to post this twice for my two ocs! This first one is for my diesel engine (based on this tiktok: https://vm.tiktok.com/JYP7ku6/ )

1. What is their name and gender? What pronouns do they use?
Robert! He uses he/him pronouns and his cis male!

2. Are they a locomotive or a car/wagon? If they are a locomotive, what is their source of power? (Steam, diesel, electric, etc)

He’s a diesel locomotive, and is fairly smaller than most other diesels.

3. Who are their friends? They can be canon or other OCs!

He usually tags along with the coaches, especially Dinah and Buffy, but he also has a small friendship with CB!

4. Do they have a favourite colour?

If he had to pick one, he’s certainly more partial to blue.

5. Are they an extrovert, ambivert or introvert?

Ambivert! He leans more towards introverted though.

6. Do they have a favourite animal?

He adores birds, and sometimes during breaks he can be seen feeding them.

7. What are their sleeping habits? Are they an early bird or a night owl?

He’ll usually go to bed far earlier than others, but get up reaaaaally early. He enjoys quiet mornings, and is very much the type that has a lot of energy once they wake up.

8. What are three adjectives to describe them?

Soft-hearted, idealistic, loyal

9. Do they have a crush?

He has a little (slightly misguided) crush on CB. Robert just really enjoys how helpful the caboose seems, and he isn’t as rough as the other freights.

10. How did you pick their name?

The same way I came up with him! I was so enamored that this little train was named Robert! Plus, I have the idea he took the name from a train conductor he really enjoyed being around.

11. What languages do they speak? Do they have an accent?
He speaks English, and has a slight northwestern accent.

12. What reasons do others have to like them?

I think him being a smaller diesel, or smaller train in general, is a really interesting concept! Plus he’s just a sweet old man doing his best. Very relatable.

13. What are their flaws?

He always tries to see the best in people, or see good intentions in them, which can often lead to him excusing people being rude to him. He also isn’t much for conflict, and will try and get out of it anyway he can.

14. Do they have any pet peeves?

Needlessly or constantly swearing. He’s fine with it sometimes if it’s just a casual conversation but if he’s working he’s not too happy about it.

15. Are they competitive? If they were in a race, would they play fair or cheat?

He’s tried to race a few times, but he’s not that competitive. Robert certainly would want to play fair though! There’s no point in cheating at something that’s supposed to be fun (in his eyes).

16. How do they react to a compliment? An insult?
Robert gets rather flustered at compliments, usually trying to downplay them if he feels they’re unwarranted.

At an insult though, he’s very quick to show it hurt him, and say so too. Of course, he might apologize if he thinks he’s responsible, but also might wonder if that person was just having a bad day. It still isn’t good to take out your frustrations on someone else, but he can understand!

17. What are their talents/hobbies?

He’s an avid birdwatcher, and because of that he can easily point out what kind of bird is around by their song or what they look like.

18.What do they often fail at? Why?

Getting to places quickly. Although Robert certainly has the power to get there, he can sometimes get distracted, or is simply too concerned about moving too fast. Maybe if he was younger, but going that quick makes a lot of noise and his wheels shake!

19. Why did you decide to make your OC?

A mix of both “Oh I’d love to make an engine OC!” and “That TikTok was very neat! I should make a stex oc based off that!”

[minimickzy]

Yeah, Cool || Richie Tozier

Request: Hi can I get a Richie imagine? Kinda based of the song My Kind of Woman by Mac demarco. Where he’s so surprised that no matter what you’ve always stuck by him. No matter how many jokes he masked about you, offensive or perverted, you always know he’s joking. And he’s just in awe cause of how strong you are and YOU choose HIM to stick with through everything. He just utterly adores you and he doesn’t realize you adore him to until he realizes how long you’ve stuck by him. Thanks! Love your blog💛

 +Hi okay so could you do a Richie x Reader where He likes the reader but the losers say that she's to innocent and completely opposite of him but goes for it anyway and him and the reader end up having a happily ever after?

Characters: Reader x Richie Tozier, the losers club 

Word count: 2924

Warning: swearing, mentioned underage drinking, kissing (ew!)

a/n: This is a weird style that I tend to write in, I don't know if y’all are gonna like it so please let me know. this is also extremely long. please let me know what you think! also let me know if you want to be added to any tag lists!

Oh baby, oh man

You're making my crazy, really driving me mad

Summer 1988

From the second Richie saw you he knew you were meant to be. Richie wasn’t one to be sappy but when it came to you his heart melted in his chest and his head spun around with thoughts of you.

You moved to Derry in the summer before junior year. Your mom picked everything up and brought the family to this small shitty town. There was nearly nothing to do here. You’d go on walks looking for something, anything to preoccupy yourself with, but your searches went on and on.

You didn't notice the group of kids that would follow you around every day. The losers club was intrigued by you. They never saw you talk to anyone, you’d just walk around and look at the world around you. They all had the filling that you were one of them. Every few days you’d go to the park and sit against the sand pipe and read a book.

There was a boy who always seemed to be hanging around with binoculars and a little book. He seemed to be birdwatching but you never thought of a boy his age being into such a adult thing.

One day, after a rainy night you decided to sit on the bench instead of the mushy ground. It was a quiet day, near the end of august, a gentle breeze blew your hair against your cheeks as you engulfed your mind in your book.   

You nearly jumped out of your skin when someone sat down at the other side of the bench. “Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.” You saw the bird boy looking at you with a apologetic but slightly annoyed look, after all you were in his spot. “Oh, It's no trouble, sorry for taking your spot, the ground was just… dirty.”

“It's fine.” He turned away from you and to the bird fountain. You went back to reading your book but couldn't help but feel the awkward tension rising in the silence. “I’m (y/n), I just moved here a month ago or something.” You put your hand out for him, He turned back you and gave your hand a tense shake, “I’m Stan. I’ve seen you around alot.” 

“yeah, I’ve just been looking for something to do.” He nodded, “Well, maybe you could come to the Barrens later, its where me and my friends hang out.” You smiled, “yeah, that sounds cool. You're the first person I’ve talked to here.” he laughed, “that's Derry for you. Do you have a bike?” You shook your head. “I guess I can give you a ride on my handlebars.” He started to get up, you stayed sitting not really sure if you should follow until he turned around a few yards away and looked at you expectantly, “coming?” “Oh, yeah! Sorry.” You stood up and rushed to join him.

That's alright with me, it's really no fuss

As long as you're next to me, just the two of us

Spring 1989

Richie had fucked up and he knew that. His trashmouth had gotten both the losers pissed at him and his parents to kick him out. It wasn't on purpose. He didn't tell anyone but he had a run in with Bowers on the way to school. He was to embarrassed to say anything and His blood with boiling from how weak he felt after what had happened. He wasn't sure if the losers had told you what happened, or what you would think of him if they did. Spring was here and Junior year was coming to a end.

He didn't bother to come up with a story to tell, he just walked up to your door and knocked, your parents car wasn't there but the lights were on so he knew you must be home. When you opened the door your eyes widened with shock at the sight in front of you. “Richie..” He looked so broken. His eyes were red and puffy, magnified by his coke bottle glasses. The goofy grin that was nearly always plastered on his face was gone and his body was trembling in the cool night air.

“I really fucked up.” You nodded, “yeah, Stan told me. Listen, I don’t thin-” “They kicked me out.” “what?” “My par-parents, they kicked me out.” He sniffed and you thought your heart may as well have just fallen on the ground in front of him. “Why?” “I said something and my dad, he just-” Richie couldn’t get the rest out, instead breaking down on your poach, his head held in his hands as the tears slipped from his eyes and splashed onto his glasses. You didn't waste any time to hug him. He was shaking. You held him as tight as you could, you whispered soft words into his ear and let him nuzzle his curly hair into you neck.

You're my, my, my, my kind of woman

My, oh my, what a girl

Summer 1989 

It took the loud honk of a horn to knock Richie out of his tance. You laughed as he swore under his breath and pressed his foot down on the gas pedal sending the car forward. Richie had been staring at you, taking the chance as you were looking out the window of his beat up car on the way to pick up Eddie and then meet up with the rest of the losers. A year later and you still didn't have a bike. He didn't know the reason was because then he’d have to give you ride.

Richie and Mike were the only ones with cars, you lived down the street from him and Eddie lived 5 minutes from there and then everyone else lived on the other side of town by Mike who would pick them up in the back of his old pickup he got from his dad.

When Richie pulled up to Eddie’s sidewalk the boy who wasn't much bigger than when you had first met him came beelining out of the front door. He hopped in the back and took a puff of his inhaler, sure enough his mom came out right after and started to yell something but Richie pulled away before you could hear any of it. “What was up her ass Ed’s?” Richie asked, Eddie groaned in return, “She said I had a cold or something because I sneezed, and how many times do I have to tell you not to call me that.”

You laughed lightly and placed your hand on Richies on top the stick shift. His stomach did flips and his brain went just a little fuzzy. You didn't take it away until he parked outside of the movie house where everyone was waiting. Eddie jumped out and then you but Richie didn't move a muscle. “Richie?” you asked leaning down so you could see him, “You coming?” “mhm, I just- need a second.” “are you okay?” “yeah, I'll be right in.” “cool.” “yeah, cool.”

You're my, my, my, my kind of woman

Summer 1988

Stan pulled up to the barrens and let you hope off of his handlebars, there was only another boy and girl there already, sitting on to rocks with there hands interlocked. “Thats Bill and Beverly” he pointed before they saw you. You nodded and your nerves started to get the best of you. What if the only people you talked to in Derry didn't even like you? Stan started walking towards them and they both smiled and waved to him. The girl, Beverly, was the first to notice you, taking a double take and then elbowing Bill who stood up immediately.   

“This is (y/n), I said it was cool if she'd hang with us.” San introduced you as you gave a little nod. “Hi. It’s nice to meet you.” Bill smiled and stuck a hand out to shake, “you t-too.” You smiled back and shook his hand.

Bill and Beverly told you about the losers club and how they’d been seeing you around town. “We Thou-thought you m-m-meant be one of u-us.” Bill said and you laughed, “A loser?” Beverly shrugged, “It's not too bad.” You nodded, “so who else is in it?” Bills face brightened up again as he started to tell you about each member in the group, “Well the-there's Mike who...

And I'm down on my hands and knees

Begging you please, baby, show me your world

Fall 1988

“What a babe.” Richie fawned over you as you walked away. The rest of the losers laughed or sighed at the pathic doe eyes Richie wore whenever he looked at you.

You were the innocent of the group, Richie was not. Every sentence that he said included swears but one had hardly ever touched your lips. He wore black and punk band tees and you wore pastels and sweaters. He used to call you Betty Cooper when you first started hanging out with the losers as a joke and you’d always call him Jughead in return. You always chuckled at his jokes even if you didn’t get it which was most of the time. It was just the giddiness and rush you got whenever you were around him that really got the laughs going.

“Richie, she’s so out of your league.” Eddie deadpanned patting Him on the back. “And whys that?” Richie asked in a pissy tone. “B-b-because she’s innocent R-Richie, and your N-not.” Bill said, “Yeah, and she's smart and attractive. Two more things you lack.” Stan smirked. Richie huffed and stood up from the rock he had been sitting on. “That's bullshit.” They all looked at him with scartic looks. “I can tone it down.” “yeah right.” Eddie laughed, Richie furrowed his eyebrows and started to walk away.

“I’ll show you fuckers!” He started his way to you house jogging in order to catch up to you, “Hey (y/n)! Wait up!” he yelled down the street causing you to turn towards him. You shot him a sweet smile, “What’s up Richie?” He stopped to catch his breath and rubbed his hands off on his hawaii shirt. “I-I just wanted to ask you something.”  You cocked an eyebrow, “and you couldn't use a phone?”

He shrugged and played with the dirt on the ground with his foot, “What do you think of me?” He was no longer making eye contact with you which you were silently thankful for, “what?” His question had blindsided you. “Like, What do you think of my jokes and how I act or whatever.” “Oh, I think your great- I mean I really like your jokes and you glasses and your hair and and how you sometimes smile with only one side of your mouth and- Your really cool Rich.” You just needed to get yourself to shut up. “So you don’t mind my dirty jokes or swearing?” “No? Why?”

“I just thought they meant be much for you.” You laughed, “You could never be too much for me Tozier” He smiled brightly, “Cool.” “Yeah, cool.”

Oh brother, sweetheart

I'm feeling so tired really falling apart

And it just don't make sense to me

Spring 1989

You told Richie he could stay at your house as long as your parents didn't catch him. You gave him some food and he told you about Bowers, He told you about everything, His cheeks were a dark shade of red, you were the last person he wanted to know. But you understood, you didn't tell him but as soon as he fell asleep you called and told Bev everything and then she told everyone else, they all understood just as you had and Bill was going to talk to Richie at school.

Since the day you met Richie you felt connected with him. You hadn't thought twice about holding him as he cried or playing with his hair when he talked. You weren't going to deny you held a liking towards Richie, There was no question as to if you were head over heels for the boy.

You thought he was too but neither of you ever dared make a move. You told your parents you were sick in the morning and bought yourself a few more hours alone with Richie before you’d both go in for the later half of your classes. You gave him breakfast as soon as your parents left.

He didn't say much. He couldn't believe he had told you everything, the stuff that he even hid from the rest of the losers. As he ate you watched him from across the table eating your own breakfast. You found his leg with your foot under the table. “Richie?” He looked up to you, “yeah?” “Why’d you come to me? Why not Eddie or Stan? Why me?”

His eyes got a little wider and his cheeks burned a soft pink, “I- I guess, I trust you.” You smiled, “Really?” You started to take a sip from your water “yeah. I really do. Your so nice and I really love you.” You choked on your water and some of it sprayed out of your mouth, onto the table as you coughed. “I’m sorry- I just-” Richie said rushing to apologize as soon as he realized what his big mouth had said. “No, Richie- I love you- too- Don't be- sorry-” you said between coughs.

He smiled. “Cool.” You smirked “yeah, cool.”

I really don't know

Why you stick right next to me or wherever I go

Summer 1990 

“Richie this is ridiculous!” you yelled, he jumped back at your outburst. Richie and you had been a thing forever and respected it as dating behind closed doors. You wanted it to be official, you wanted to know you weren't going to lose him. Richie wanted the same thing, but as long as he had you he didn’t want to do anything to fuck that up. But you were fed up so when he met you at the barrens, just the two of you, you jumped right into it.

“What?” you groaned, “you have to let me know what we are, where is this going? I need to know Richie, I have to go to college and you, you have to go somewhere!” He frowned, “I’m going wherever you go.” “what?” he shrugged, “There's nowhere else I want to go.” You looked at him with  melow shock. You thought he just didn't want to commit, you didn't know in his head he already had.

“Oh. So we’re dating?” “That's what I thought, If you don't want me to-” “No! I mean no, that's what I want, If it's what you want!” the tension was high, “What if I want something more!” The two of you yelling a bit softer each time, “Then let's make it something more!” he stepped closer to you, “We’re 18!” you stepped closer to him, “yes!” He took your hands in his, “We could be engaged!” you nodded your head, “yes!” he gave you his goofy grin, “Is that a yes to 18 year olds can be engaged or me asking you to fucking marry me?” “both.” He kissed you sweetly “fuck” You kissed him, “shit.” “that's what I want.” “then that's what you get.” “Cool.” “yeah, cool.”

You're my, my, my, my kind of woman

My, oh my, what a girl

You're my, my, my, my kind of woman

Fall 1989 

The first the two of you kissed was at a party where you both had been a little tipsy. The only reason it didn't go further was Beverly busting in and freaking out. She didn't tell anyone, and neither did you or Richie.

But Richie couldn’t live with just a taste of the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with and who he’d been drooling over for more than a year. He tried desperately to get you to kiss him again, but the time was never right. One day Richie Tozier had enough, He was driving you home from a meetup with the losers, the windows were open and the radio blasting. Everyone had went out to Castle Rock for a carnival but the rest of the losers decided to stay after you and Rich left.

You laughed at something he said and when that sweet sound touched his ears he quickly turned off the road and onto the shoulder. “Richie? Whats up?” “I need to kiss you.” he said it so calmly it almost frightened you. “What?” “I’ve liked you since the day you moved here and at the party it was like a dream and I need to kiss you.”

You shrugged, “Okay.” “really?” “yes.” “oh my fuck, I didn't actu- fuck. Okay.” “are you going to or…” He nodded and turned quickly, capturing your lips with his. You couldn't help but smile as you pulled away. He smiled and turned back onto the road. “cool.” You laughed, “yeah, cool.”

And I'm down on my hands and knees

Begging you please, baby, show me your world

Summer 1987

“...Yeah, he g-go-goes on about b-b-being sick but hes st-still cool, and then th-theres R-Richie-” “Thats my name don't wear it out Big Bill.” you heard someone laugh from behind you. You turned to see two boys, one with Red shorts who was smaller and then a tall boy with wild curly black hair, thick glasses and a devilish grin. “He’s Well, Ri-Richie.” Bill shrugged as the boys joined the small circle.

“Whos the babe?” Riche laughed and you chuckled slightly, “I’m (y/n), I’m new around here.” He smirked, “cool.” “Yeah, cool.”

tag list 

@thekidsofneibolt

@mcheung0314