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alwayshaveneverholdd · 3 years ago

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REWRITING NARUTO ROMANCES SO THEY DON'T SUCK

We all know that the romance in Naruto is trash and Kishimoto himself admitted to not knowing how to write female characters and getting embarrassed by romantic scenes…so let’s fix that shit

Part 2: SasuSaku

Okay so I’m gonna be going more in depth and talking about Sakura’s characterization, as well as the family dynamic between Sasuke Sakura and Sarada.

I didn’t do that for naruhina because I honestly truly could not give less of a fuck about boruto and himawari. They’re both gifted ninja children with little to no family struggles. “Meeeeh my dads the hokage blehhhhhh poor meeeee” stfu nobody feels sorry for you

ANYWAY

LETS START BY SHITTING ON ALL OF IT (AS I DO)

- Sasusaku in a nutshell

- Sakura: you’re so hot my teen hormones are making me think I’m in love with you!!!

- Sasuke:….y’all hear sumn?

- *fifteen years and a forehead poke later* Sakura: lol where’s my husband

- Lmfao I’m just kidding I am actually the HUGEST sasusaku shipper and I just FUCKING WISH kishimoto hired someone who could do romance or knew about women or something so not only Sakura could flourish but also the rest of the female characters who were mostly depicted as harmful female stereotypes: weak, overly emotional, superficial, do everything for boy

- I think that him saying he wanted Sakura to be a fan favorite but then made her such an asshole and so annoying at the beginning is like….what

- AND I GET IT kids with both parents d o n o t understand that not having both parents growing up doesn’t necessarily mean you’re a basket case (says me, the child of an only parent who was constantly pitied for it but is doing a lot more with my life than any of my friends who had both parents Lmfao)

- But why did he make her so…. “LOL NARUTO IS SOOOO FUCKING STUPID WHAT A LOSER FOR BEING AN ORPHAN” what the fuck who would actually have that attitude toward someone like that

- Her parents, though we don’t see much of them, seem like decent people? I’d like to think they wouldn’t raise such a judgmental kid

- I’ll fix that in the second half dw

- Okay also w h a t t h e f u c k I n g f u c k

- I hate that Ino and Sakura’s friendship was ruined by a boy, and that their rivalry was mostly about Sasuke…

- Kishimoto-sensei come on dude I love you but w h y

- I’ll admit girls do have a competitive nature with each other a lot

- BUT GUESS WHAT

- Most girls are in competition because of things like?? Low-self esteem and big egos, which young kids of all gender and gender identities have lmfao

- In my experience it’s rare that a boy is what breaks up a friendship (unless one friend “stole” the others boyfriend in which case that guy didn’t want to be with you anyway sister get over it)

- Also can we just talk about how in Shippuden every time sakura is like “I GOT THIS!” “ILL GET EM!” She gets fuckin destroyed

- So much for Sakura getting so much stronger during the blank period ???? What the fuck

- Sakura IS powerful and I wish she would’ve been given as much power as naruto and Sasuke on some level so she could hold her own against them like what the hell

- I’m jumping around a lot but first of all: fuck Sakura’s fake confession to naruto that was so immature and unnecessary and she is way too smart for that wtf

- Also fuck Sakura becoming a sub and offering to join Sasuke when she went to kill him

- We’re fixing all this fuckin shit

- Also pls the anime did sasusaku so dirty

- They took out all of sasukes blushes from the manga

- In the manga Sasuke blushed many times around/at the mention of Sakura

- And his FOOT WAS SHAKING WHEN SHE CONFESSED THE FINAL TIME

- btw let’s just take out all of Sakura’s fucking confessions just stop sis you’re embarrassing yourself we’re gonna rewrite this shit for you in a way that respects you okay

- Sarada looks nothing like Sakura and I’m pressed

- I’m tilted

- SHE LITERALLY LOOKS LIKE KARIN BRO HAVE YOU SEEN HER? Similar hairstyle, same glasses, honestly same face (it’s a cartoon they all look the same FUCK YOU she looks like Karin and you know exactly what I mean)

- They couldn’t have given her Sakura’s hair color or style??? At the least???? Or just different fucking glasses Jesus

- I hated that entire “is Karin my real mom” dilemma cry me a river

- Pls they could’ve created so many other conflicts that would’ve been way better

- Suigetsu is a fucking moron and ofc he would believe Sasuke and Karin got it on bc he has the IQ of a pistachio

- There was just…they could’ve reintroduced those characters in such a better way

- Also I’d like to see Sakura interact with Jugo, Suigetsu, and Karin. Just Sakura interacting with and being friends with sasukes friends would help paint their relationship dynamic better

- And can we get into sasukes thoughts other than when we’re shown his itachi and massacre flashbacks for the 10847382th time

- Like during one of Sakura’s confessions maybe a sad look and a flash of team 7 in his mind bc he’s reminded of his bonds and how much he enjoyed his time just being a normal kid

- I’m gonna need more than an “I’m sorry for everything” and a forehead poke

- Sorry chief

- The least you can do is give us a fucking episode showing how their romance happened?

- That would be fucking hilarious

- Bc Sasuke clearly knows jack shit about romance, even now when they’re married with a kid

- “Sasuke…do you wanna date me?” “Why would I hit you with dates? Those have pits. Are you a masochist?” “What?” “What? I gotta go…help naruto with something…bye”

- Like lmfao

- Okay I think I’m good on the first half let’s move on to fixing shit

- FIRST AND FOREMOST

- Can we just….NOT ALL YOUNG GIRLS ARE DATING CRAZY AND ACT ALL PSYCHO

- Yes I’ve known people of all genders that are interested in dating very young, but not to the extent that is shown in Naruto with literally all the characters obsessed with Sasuke

- So we’re not gonna do that “fangirl pack follows Sasuke around” thing.

- I liked that Ino was the one who gave Sakura confidence and helped her believe in herself, so we’re keeping that

- But let’s not make Sakura become an Ino clone because pls they were so fucking SIMILAR in the first part

- And Sakura is not mean to Naruto just bc she likes Sasuke, let’s change that. Maybe Sakura was annoyed and felt like Naruto was deliberately trying to get in the way (which he was, and she did express these feelings) so how about she cONFRONT HIM

- just ducking ask him you pussy “why are you trying to get in the way of me building a friendship with sasuke”

- Communication! Healthy friendships! Y’all: You’re asking too much of 12 year olds

- Me: SHUT THE FUCK UP THIS IS MY PERFECT WORLD

- No more “IM GONNA GET THE FIRST KISS FROM SASUKE”

- Let’s have Sakura be less….like that.

- ANYWAY I think the subtle way that Sakura and Sasukes friendship developed was actually good, I don’t have many complaints there.

- Now when we get to him leaving the village….NO CONFESSIONS. Sakura will still ask him why he has to go, but instead of being stupid and saying “IM 12 AND IM IN LOVE WITH YOU BLEH YOUR PARENTS BEING MURDERED IS THE SAME FEELING I HAVE WHEN YOURE NOT HERE” don’t even go there dude

- Instead she will think to herself how her feelings for sasuke have grown from infatuation into truly caring for him. Maybe she even mentions that he’s different from what people think he is, try to remind him that she and Naruto and Kakashi are a team and like family.

- Ofc everything else would be the same but I think that if she had made points that way, him thanking her would hit harder

- NO asking Naruto to “bring sasuke back to me” he’s not yours dude wtf

- Instead Sakura would NOT CRY but still be upset and wish Naruto and the others farewell. She would still recognize her own shortcomings and train rly hard during the blank period.

- Now let’s skip ahead okay so can Sakura not get her ass beat so much in the second part like fucking really come on

- She will do damage to fuckin sasori and not rely 95% on granny chiho

- Also? Why the hell did she try to stop sasuke with her fist during their first reunion? Jesus

- So I think sasukes behavior should remain pretty much the same, it fits his tortured traumatized characterization.

- Now Sakura, I think she should have been way less dramatic about everything. No confessions to Naruto, having an actual good plan to kill sasuke other than with a poisoned kunai

- I’d like to think Sakura would be pretty powerful by now and could hold her own against sasuke. When he asked her to kill Karin to prove her loyalty, she should’ve known he was tricking her and just fucking went at him. Kakashi and Naruto would’ve intervened either way but now Sakura is using her abilities instead of almost getting killed by sasuke TWICE without even fighting back.

- I think Sakura shouldn’t have confronted Naruto at all before going to kill sasuke tbh

- Now onto to the war, I think by now Sakura did realize that Sasuke was fucked up, much too fucked up to return her feelings but I think she did love him at this point, if nothing just wanting to save him from himself, so I think that’s on par

- The real oh fuck comes during the war when they went at Kaguya

- SAKURA NEEDED TO DO MORE, AND SASUKE WOULDVE NOTICED HER MORE AND BEEN MORE IMPRESSED

- 100% keep the sasuke teleporting using sakuras jacket and then catching her before she passes out from low chakra that shit was nice and he just kept holding her too and that eye contact BITCH

- The way I’ve written this rewrite so far, I do think the last confession was appropriate. One for the whole show is good.

- Because this would be her first verbal confession it would be more dramatic in a good way and more impactful.

- Everything else would play out the same

- But when sasuke leaves to atone for his sins or whatever I’d like to see a private conversation between him and Sakura where he truly does apologize and maybe even spice it up, have him tell her to find someone that deserves her love

- It’ll leave her thinking and he still gives her the forehead poke and tells her to take care

- And they still get together and all that but I wanna see howwwwww

- ALSO SASUKE STOP BEING AN ABSENT FATHER CHALLENGE

- I think that whole thing of Sarada not recognizing her own father is pretty FUCKED UP and I know it creates conflict and all that and sasukes character whatever okay fine keep it whatever

- But Fuck that stupid mother Karin arc

- And show more sasusaku interactions

- Sasuke hangs out with Naruto more than his own wife man is it that hard to think Sasuke can be around more now

- I do really like how Sasuke and Sakura are both rly involved with Saradas training. Overall they’re a cute family. WHy tf does Kakashi give Sasuke parenting advice from Makeout Paradise tho like wtf MAJOR CREEPY also Kawaki and Sarada p cute together idk

- I’m tired I’m gonna take a nap peace

#naruto #naruto ships #naruto memes #sasuke uchiha #naruto shippuden #sasusaku #sakura haruno #sakura #sasuke #ino yamanaka #sarada uchiha #boruto #masashi kishimoto #naruto uzimaki #hinata hyuga #naruto matchup

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thorniest-rose · 4 years ago

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reddie halloween prompt #5 undead

On the sixth night of the third week after they destroy IT, Richie returns to Eddie.

The Losers all try to stop him. On that first night back at the Town House, Eddie breaks down at the bar, telling them that there had to be a way. That there must be a spell in one of Mike’s books that could reverse what had happened. That they at least had to try.

“He died by mystical means... that means we can bring him back,” he begs, while they all look at him pitifully. Even Stanley, who had understood Richie in a way the others never could, turns his face away.

“Think about what you’re saying, Eddie,” Ben says, eyes dark and wounded as he cradles a glass of whiskey. “People aren’t supposed to come back like that. It could go wrong."

“He’s gone, baby,” Bev agrees softly, placing her hand on Eddie's arm so gently it hardly feels like anything at all. It was nothing like Richie’s rough, boisterous touch. “We all have to accept that and move on.”

But Eddie was unshakeable, inconsolable.

He won't let himself be pulled into Bev's hug, and he refuses to take part in the ritualistic sharing of memories. Reminiscing about bug-eyed glasses and skinned knees; about the plethora of voices, or the way Richie had once held a baseball bat so bravely. The little monster slayer. Instead all Eddie could think about was the body that was currently on ice in Derry's small morgue down the street. The body that had once been Richie's, until the clown tore a hole through his chest. Right now his lips were probably turning blue.

The thought has Eddie staggering from the bar with tears stinging his eyes, ignoring the Losers as they call out to him, so he can lock himself away in Richie’s room. In the dark he peels out of his clothes and folds himself into a clean t-shirt from Richie’s bag. It’s an old tour shirt from 2012 and it’s so big on Eddie it almost swallows him whole.

For a single, overwhelming moment Eddie wishes he really could be swallowed up, that he'd chosen to stay down in the sewers with Richie’s body. That they had disappeared into the earth together.

But instead he was here. And all he could do was ache as Richie's body started to slowly disintegrate down in the morgue.

Eddie doesn’t know how much time passes before Bill comes to him. Bill, who knocks on Eddie's door until he answers, wrapped in Richie's t-shirt and nothing else.

After a second's hesitation Eddie invites him in, and the two men stand by the door, the silence between them growing like a cancer, until Bill reaches out and places his hand on Eddie’s tear-sticky cheek.

“I need to tell you something,” he says, voice on the verge of his old stutter. “I need you to know that I love you. I always did, even when we were kids. And I can’t have you leave without you knowing that.”

And Eddie would be lying if he said he didn’t consider it. That he didn’t consider letting Bill press him down to the mattress and spread his thighs open. That for a moment he didn’t think about how it would feel for Bill to open him up. First with his fingers, and then his cock. To push inside him in the way Eddie had always daydreamed about as a boy with his bed sheets bunched up between his legs. Maybe Bill could help fill the emptiness that Eddie had felt opening up inside him from the moment they left the sewers.

But then he thinks of Richie’s body, how he looked when he died, what he said, and he pulls away. Out of Bill's warm embrace and back to the bed, the sheets still creased with the imprint of Richie’s slumbering body.

Eddie fixes his eyes on the bed and says, "It doesn’t matter, because I don’t love you."

Behind him he can almost feel the way Bill’s face falls. Can almost feel the hurt noise Bill makes in his own throat.

“Okay,” Bill says shakily. "You need time, I understand that. Maybe we should talk about this again tomorrow."

Sorrow makes Eddie's tongue sharp as he looks over his shoulder and says, “I don’t need time. I need Richie. And I sure as hell don’t need you. You're half the man Richie ever was."

The look on Bill's face feels like a knife, but he can't bring himself to care. All he wants is to be left alone and a moment later he is, as Bill slips out the door as quietly as he walked in. Richie would never have done that, Eddie thinks. He would have made a racket. He would never take no for an answer.

Richie had been the only person who'd never treated Eddie like he was made from glass.

Later, in the dead patch of night just after 3am, Eddie pulls on a pair of jeans and leaves the Town House. He leaves behind most of his things: his clothes, his pills, his toiletries. Suddenly, nothing really matters. Not his last Valium, and not the pot of moisturizer that cost more than Myra’s entire make-up cabinet. Definitely not the sad little life that marked his entire childhood in Derry. He doesn’t even leave a note to say goodbye.

Before heading to the airport he breaks into Mike’s room above the library to rifle through all the books the man had collected over the years. Half wrecks the place to find what he needs, the spell that will bring Richie back. When he finds it he makes a noise he doesn’t recognise, something like a sob but also a groan. Half desperate, half wild. He clutches the book so hard he almost rips the page.

A frantic Mike emerges in the doorway just as Eddie turns to leave. His eyes dart down to the book clasped in his arms and they grow shockingly wide.

“Eddie, stop. Think about what you’re doing.”

“You can’t stop me,” Eddie says, pressing the book tighter to his chest, against the stupid t-shirt with Richie’s cartoon face.

“You need to put the book down. You’re not thinking right. You can’t do this, sweetheart, Richie wouldn’t want you to.”

The sound of Richie’s name breaks through the haze. A second later Eddie’s pulling the gun out of his back pocket. The one he had found hidden in Mike’s old things.

He points it at his old friend and says, “Don’t tell me what Richie would want.”

Mike’s hands dart up. “Eddie-”

"Don’t talk,” Eddie snaps. “And if you come near me I’ll kill you. I’m not joking, I’ll do it."

“Please don’t do this,” Mike says. “This isn’t like you. You’re exhausted, and you’re angry. I understand, and all I want to do is help you. But please put the gun down.”

Eddie doesn’t put the gun down but he does cock it, even with his fingers trembling.

“Don’t tell me what to do. All my life people have only ever told me what to do.”

“You’ll regret it,” Mike says quietly. “You think you can just snap your fingers and bring him back? Things like this always require a price.”

But Eddie won’t be swayed. Not now.

“Step away from the door,” he says. "And don’t even think about coming after me. I’m done with this fucking cemetery of a town and I’m done with you.”

As soon as Mike steps aside, Eddie rushes past him, the book to his chest. He makes sure not to look at Mike’s face. At the hurt and disappointment etched there.

In the cold night air outside, Eddie hardly feels the tears on his face.

Eddie leaves Maine for the last time that morning on the first flight to New York.

When he emerges in the airport, Myra comes to him, her face swimming in tears, her chest heaving. She clasps Eddie to her, cooing over him, telling him how worried she was, how she had called the police, that she thought he was dead. And usually Eddie would feel contrite, would try to comfort her, but all he feels is that emptiness inside him grow.

Eddie can’t wait. The next day he completes the ritual when Myra is out food shopping. He spreads the red sand in a wide circle on their plush cream carpet and sprinkles the crushed animal bones in each key place. In the middle of the circle he places Richie’s glasses, still smudged with his blood. Then he recites the incantation from the book, not once stumbling over the strange words.

Myra finds him an hour later, passed out on their bed, a huge crimson stain half scrubbed out of the living room carpet, and demands to know what happened. But Eddie only mumbles that he can’t remember.

That afternoon Myra makes an appointment with one of the top therapists in Manhattan, saying her husband was suffering from a severe bout of melancholy.

There's no sign of Richie that day, or on the next, or the next. Eddie thought Richie would have magically appeared after the ritual. He’d expected lights and noise, like in a magician’s show, and that in a big puff of smoke Richie would be restored. But nothing happened. And maybe, Eddie thinks as cries into his pillow, he doesn't deserve it. He’d only ever been cruel and callous to Richie, maybe he doesn't deserve to get him back at all.

He waits and he dreams. Every night as he lies next to Mya, he dreams about Richie for the first time in years. He dreams of the two of them as children, touching hands and sharing ice-cream; and as teenagers driving around in Richie’s old truck, his legs draped over Richie’s lap as the other boy ghosted his fingers over his calves. And he dreams of a life they never had. Of first kisses, and love confessions, and slow bursts of love making during that sleepy time of morning when the sky turns milky just before dawn.

Every morning he wakes up with wet cheeks. And the emptiness continues to grow.

Over the next few days Eddie gets quieter and more withdrawn. He stops going to work and he doesn’t swallow any of the pills that Myra tries to force on him, spitting them into the toilet as soon as he can get away from her. She’s worried about him, he knows that, but he can’t bring himself to care.

He also doesn't care about all the missed phone calls from the Losers, or the string of texts and voice messages begging him to reconsider, telling him to call. He half types a text to Bev saying, when will it start to feel better? It didnt work anyway, i guess i cant do anything right but it lies half-written on his phone for two days before he deletes it. In the end he blocks their numbers and throws his phone into his bedside drawer.

But then, towards the end of the third week, Eddie wakes up and something feels off.

He can’t describe it, he just feels strange. Tense, the way he always felt before running. And slightly sick. That morning he finds himself watching the news as he chews on his thumbnail. A nervous little tick he hasn’t fallen back into since his late 20s. But there’s no impending catastrophe, no signal of anything ominous. He even scans the local Derry news on his iPad but finds nothing of note beyond a couple of farm cows found brutalised, torn open, their guts hanging out. A local nut job was blamed and arrested.

Just as he’s about to put the iPad down and make his egg-white omelette for breakfast, his eyes catch on a small story: a break-in at the Derry morgue. It’s dated as the same week that the Losers were in Derry, just two days after he disappeared. He realises, with a quiver, that it was the day after the incantation, the ritual to bring Richie back.

Eddie places his iPad down and goes to the bathroom, where he sits in the bath in the way he did as a child, when he was trying to calm the panic attack he felt growing under his skin. He sits there until he feels like his heart isn’t about to burst out of his skin and can go about his day again.

It doesn’t mean anything, he says to himself. Break-ins happen all the time. It doesn’t mean anything at all.

That evening he makes a simple dinner of grilled chicken and asparagus with a white wine sauce. But he can hardly eat. That feeling of unease had stayed with Eddie all day, and as the sky darkened outside it had only grown. Crawling up his throat, seizing his stomach, until he was choking on it.

Across the table he can hear Myra talking, but she’s muffled, like she’s talking underwater.

“A man was killed just a few blocks from us, Eddie, did you hear? It’s awful, apparently he was found ravaged, torn open.”

“Oh,” Eddie murmurs.

Myra frowns. “Are you even listening?”

And Eddie isn’t, but he nods his head.

After he’s pushed his food around his plate for a few more minutes, Eddie tells Myra he needs some fresh air, and before she can argue he slips out into the garden.

He ducks around the veranda outside. When he’s sure he’s completely hidden, he pulls a crumpled pack of cigarettes out his pocket. They’re not his, of course, they’re Richie’s. A pack he’d taken from his room at the Town House when he left that night. He hasn’t been able to smoke one yet, has only lifted one to his lips when Myra wasn’t around so he could pretend to taste Richie’s lips on it. But he suddenly wants to smoke one now, lighting it quickly so he can take a puff. The first one he’s ever taken. He hopes it’ll help him feel closer to Richie. But all it does is make his eyes water instantly and fill his throat with an acrid burn, bending him forwards to retch. It’s disgusting.

Eddie throws the cigarette away and crushes it into the ground with a grimace, wondering how Richie did that every single day. How that could ever be enjoyable.

But Richie had always been an excruciating anomaly, even when they were kids.

As he turns to walk back into the house, planning to go straight to the bathroom and wash the taste of smoke out of his mouth, the back of his neck prickles. Like he’s being watched. Eddie whips around, expecting to see a figure at the end of his yard. Maybe a dark silhouette half-hidden by the trees. But there’s nothing there. Not a flutter of a bird. Not the bright eyes of a cat skulking in the hedge. Nothing. And after a moment, Eddie swipes a hand over the back of his neck and makes his way back into the house.

Inside, Myra asks him what’s wrong, that he looks like he’s seen a ghost. The saying makes Eddie laugh, forcing out a strange, high-pitched noise that has her reeling back in her chair. But Eddie doesn’t stick around to apologise. He walks out of the kitchen and collapses into bed, suddenly exhausted.

He thinks of the text he’d half-written to Bev. When will it start to feel better? And a voice that sounded exactly like Pennywise's rings in his head. Never, Eddie baby! Haven’t you realised that? It never gets better!!

A noise wakes Eddie up that night. He’d only fallen into a shallow sleep, so the noise is enough to make him bolt up in bed, his heart racing. Next to him, Myra snores heavily, almost eclipsing the noise from downstairs, but Eddie’s ears still prick up, seeking out the source of the noise. He hears it again: the tinkle of broken glass, followed by a loud crunch, like someone is walking over it.

Fear makes Eddie recoil back against the headboard. But he can't ignore it. He slips out of bed and into the hallway, peering into the dark downstairs. After a moment, he swallows the sick feeling in his mouth and descends the stairs, feeling much too like a young woman from a gothic horror film.

It’s cold down in the hallway, and he quickly realises it’s because the front door is open. He pauses by the stairway, his body going taut. No, the door wasn’t open. It was broken, hanging flimsily from its hinges, shards of glass and wood on the floor.

But there was more too: smudged, muddy footprints tracking from the front door into the hallway, like someone had broken down the door and dragged their feet inside.

Eddie’s trying to mentally catalogue how far the phone is, how long it’ll take him to dart into the living room and call the police to report a break-in when the back of his neck prickles again. Behind him he hears the heavy exhale of someone breathing.

He spins around fast, heartbeat ratcheting up like a series of gunshots, and that’s when he sees him. Richie. Standing in the doorway to the kitchen watching him.

"Richie," he gasps.

And it was Richie, somehow. Despite the blue tinge to his skin, and the black tracing of veins skittering down his neck and arms. Even though he didn’t have his glasses, and his clothes lay in filthy shreds around his arms and legs, revealing large tantalising glimpses of the thick muscles at his thighs, the tendons popping like lines of rock on his arms. He’d look like a centrefold ripped from a woman's magazine if it wasn’t for the mud streaking down his legs and the scabbed chest wound dissecting his chest, right where the clown had pierced him.

“Eddie,” Richie says thickly, like his throat is clogged with dirt. “I’m here.”

“What...” Eddie stumbles, breath hitching. “What are you doing here?”

And he knows it’s a stupid question, but he doesn’t know what else to say. Because he feels like he’s about to pass out, the pulse at his neck frozen in fear.

“I came back for you,” Richie says. And his eyes are so shockingly blue. Bluer than they had ever been when he was alive. So blue they were almost silver, electrifying the air.

Eddie thinks, All the way here? From Derry?

“But you’re dead,” he murmurs.

But Richie shakes his head. “I’m not. Or at least not anymore. I remember the sewers. The clown. And then nothing. Blackness. Until I was pulled out... by you.”

Eddie feels faint. “By me?”

Richie nods, and starts walking towards him. As he does, the smell hits Eddie. It’s a damp smell, like a puddle of water, or the smell at the bottom of a well. Like mud left behind after a downpour of rain. And beneath that the faint smell of rot, like fruit that had started to turn bad in the basement.

“Yes, by you,” Richie says. “Your voice, it pulled me out of the dark. You were calling to me. I woke up and I knew I had to find you again. That I couldn’t rest until I did.”

The spell, Eddie thinks drunkenly as Richie comes close, it had worked.

“Richie,” he moans, feeling everything well up inside him. Everything he had repressed over the last three weeks. The grief. The rage. The yearning. All surging and crashing over him where he’d forced himself to go numb. It overtakes him completely, and Eddie thinks he might fall to the floor.

He starts to cry as he says, "Richie, I did everything I could. I wanted to save you. But the clown, it was too much. You were already gone and I coudn't- and I wanted to die too, I just wanted to curl up and fucking die-"

Richie shushes him, hand coming up to curl in the hair at the back of his head.

"You did save me, baby, don't you see? I'm only here now because of you."

That’s when Eddie notices the red staining on Richie’s chest. He blinks. And suddenly he remembers the story of the dismembered cows, how their blood had been drained. And the murder Myra had mentioned. The man a few blocks down. He had been found gutted, torn open from his sternum to his groin. How his viscera had been missing.

And Eddie realises it’s not staining at all. It’s a thick layer of gore splattered over his chest hair. His hands are mattered in it too, all the way to his wrists, like he’d sunk his hands into something and pulled out the meat.

“Richie,” he says. “What have you done?”

They’re interrupted by the creak of the bottom stair, and Myra’s voice as she calls out, “Eddie, what’s going on? Eddie, are you all right? I heard voices.”

“Myra,” he says, turning to see her staring in shock at their broken front door.

"Myra, don't-"

But that's when she sees Richie. This strange man standing in her hallway with muddy feet and blood on his chest. With his blue skin and black veins and strange silver eyes.

She starts to scream.

Richie is on her in an instant. He rushes past Eddie, pushing him to the wall as he dashes down the hallway. He knocks Myra down to the floor and as she opens her mouth on a fresh scream, his teeth land at the skin of her neck, tearing it open. He rips her apart, first at her throat, her screams gurgling thick with blood, and then at her chest. His hands come down and he rips her apart like she's nothing more than cellophane. Once she's split open, Richie dips his head down and feasts on her blood and bone. He looks like a starved, feral animal gorging itself on a bounty, and the noises he makes as he rips the meat from the pulsing cavity at her chest isn’t human. Eddie realises, faintly, that he’s eating Myra’s heart, that the blood dripping down his chin is from her arteries, and he trembles.

Mike’s words ring in his head. Things like this always require a price.

Myra dies quickly, her screams stuttering out, eyes going glassy, but Richie doesn’t stop eating for a long time.

Terror roots Eddie to the spot. He can’t run, he can’t scream. He can only lean back against the wall and stare. At the thing that used to be his best friend, the man he loved, eat his wife open from the inside.

The next thing he knows, Richie is rising, and he’s coming towards Eddie, a blue fire raging in his eyes. Eddie tries to scramble away, but Richie’s too fast for him, and the two men tumble to the floor in a tangle of limbs.

Richie presses him to the floor, his mouth at Eddie’s neck, weight crushing him down, and Eddie thinks, This is it. This is always how it was going to end.

But Richie doesn't kill him. He doesn’t tear his throat out or drink his blood. Instead Richie kisses him. Presses the softest, sweetest kiss to the base of his neck.

“I love you, Eddie,” he whispers when he pulls back, eyes bright, mouth clotted with gore. “I love you and I came back for you.”

Eddie blinks up at him, his chest heaving. He thinks dizzily, Richie, it’s really you. And before he can stop himself, his hands are flying up to grab Richie by the shoulders and he's pulling the other man down. Their mouths meet in a fierce clash of lips and teeth, more a bite than a kiss, Richie's tongue stabbing into him. And even though Eddie winces at the thick taste of Myra’s blood, at the hint of decay in his mouth, he still tastes so much like Richie that Eddie throbs.

“I waited for you,” he pants in the short gap between their lips. “I waited so long.”

“I’m here,” Richie says hotly. “I’m here and I’m never leaving you alone again.”

And Eddie had imagined what their first time would be like at countless moments over the last few weeks. If it would be fast or slow. If Richie would be rough with him or gentle. But he never thought it would be anything like this, with Richie tearing his clothes off him and touching every inch of his skin. He never knew Richie would look like this, with this dark, hungry expression, as he thumbs Eddie’s nipples to sore pink peaks and sucks a huge, dark bruise over his heart. He never thought Richie would act so desperately, as his hand disappears between Eddie’s legs to open him up, fingers wet with spit and blood. Eddie never knew it would feel this much like being claimed, like being consumed

When Richie pushes inside him, shoving his filthy jeans down and pulling Eddie’s hips up so he can slot his cock against Eddie’s small opening, it hurts. Eddie’s never had a man inside him before, and it hurts so much. It’s agony. Richie’s hard cock tearing up into him in a searing, insistent push. But Eddie still arches his back off the floor, trying to get every inch of Richie inside him, feeling the white-hot pain sealing up all the numb, dead spots inside him. Richie fucks him like that, like they’re animals, hard into the floor as he growls against him. He ruts against Eddie, pushing his cock as deeply as it can go on every thrust, Eddie’s pained moans never slowing him. He fucks Eddie like he’s trying to disappear inside him, and the thought only makes Eddie harder, makes him cum fast as he whines like a broken toy.

In the distance a phone rings. But Eddie can’t hear it. Because between the taste of Richie in his mouth, and the feel of his cock, he can’t bring himself to care. And as Richie sinks his cold teeth into Eddie’s bottom lip and groans, "You're mine, you’re fucking mine," Eddie finally feels okay. He feels something like peace. For the first time in 27 years he's right where he needs to be.

#halloween reddie #zombies #tw body horror #minors dni #reddie drabbles #reddie #kaspbrough #tw depression #tw suicidal thoughts #this is 4000 words and basically a fic #idk what's wrong with me #this is weird and gory btw #just as a warning

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nah-she-didnt · 4 years ago

Note

“What the frick frack tickity tic tac snick snac bro?”

I’ve been saying this a lot recently and I’d very much like to see this in one of your fics.

Happy writing!

Hello lady! Thanks for the prompt!! This was fun

Send me more prompts here

The Bet

The bet had started out easily enough.

“I don’t curse that much anyway,” declared Sirius as he shoveled bacon into his mouth with the voracity that only a growing 16-year-old boy can possess.

“Yes you do,” Remus rolled his eyes, “remember the time Flitwick gave you a week’s worth of lines because you said you’d let Bowie, and I quote, ‘fuck me into next week’?”

Sirius smirked. “Yeah. Well. Not my fault he’s a prude, is it?”

James clapped Sirius on the back. “You, my friend, are a connoisseur of curse words. You work in dirty words the way some artists work in oils or plaster. That’s how I know that I am guaranteed victory in this bet.”

“What’s the prize?” asked Peter excitedly. He loved watching his friends in competition with one another, even if he often refused to participate himself.

“Loser has to buy the winner’s ticket to the Puddlemere game over Easter break,” James said easily, “and while we all know I love to treat my friends to a good quidditch game, I’m afraid this time it’s personal.”

Sirius scoffed at these words. “What, just because I said you could never do it?”

James slammed his hand down on the table dramatically. “Yes! That’s exactly why. But I’ll show you, you cheeky bastard, that I am perfectly capable of-”

“Of what?”

Distracted by his own passionate defense, James failed to notice that Lily had slid into the seat next to his. She looked particularly nice today, her newly-cut bangs framed her distracting green eyes in a way that usually made his heart skip a beat. Today, the sight of her made him want to jump into the Black Lake.

“Nothing, Evans,” he said dully, forcing himself not to look directly at her, “just guy stuff.”

Lily arched a perfectly-shaped eyebrow. “Guy stuff? Remus, what is this ‘guy stuff’ he speaks of?”

Remus looked caught. “Um,” he said, glancing hurriedly at James, “James was just saying he’s perfectly capable of kicking this nasty - uh - rash. You know, athlete stuff.”

James stared at Remus in horror as Peter and Sirius roared with laughter. Lily laughed too, but she was tactful enough to try and hide her glee behind a facade of concern. “Ouch. Well, good luck with that, Potter,” and with that, she gathered up a few pieces of toast in a napkin and was off to class.

James watched her go, mouth still hanging open. Then he rounded on his former friend. “What the fuck was that Lupin?” he roared.

Remus tried to hide his mischievous grin. “Relax, mate,” he said as seriously as he could, “think about it. I’ve just helped you win the bet. I’m pretty sure Lily’s going to give you a wide berth for the next few days, giving Sirius ample opportunities to fuck up.”

The smile disappeared from Sirius’ face. “Cheers, Moony,” he muttered grumpily.

The first few days of the bet were uneventful. None of their fellow Gryffindors seemed to realize that anything was amiss. That is until Sirius accidentally missed the trick-step going down the stairs down from the second-floor corridor.

“Aw, sh- beans,” Sirius yelled as his leg sank further and further into the step.

James, who had the foresight to skip the step, started eagerly at Sirius’ near slip-up, but relaxed again when he heard his friend’s replacement curse. Mary, who was walking with the boys, did a double-take.

“I’m sorry,” she said in a bemused voice, “did you just say ‘beans?’ What are you, a nun? What have you done with Sirius Black?”

“Can’t curse,” he said through gritted teeth as James helped yank his leg out of the staircase, “Prongs and I have a bet, you see.”

“Ah,” Mary nodded her head wisely, “so that’s why you’ve been acting weird all week.” She glanced pointedly at James.

James tried his best to adopt a look of innocence. “How do you know the bet’s with me?”

“Just a hunch,” she smirked, “Lily mentioned that you haven’t spoken to her much this week, wondered if you were mad at her or something.”

James’ heart sunk. “No! Mary, tell her I’m not mad, I-”

“Tell her yourself!” Mary grinned wickedly then strode off in the direction of their next class.

Sirius’ fake swears got more creative after his near-miss on the trick stairs.

“Oh sugarloaf,” he whined one night just after they’d settled in at a table in the library, “I forgot my Transfiguration textbook in the dorm.”

Another time, he realized his Defense essay was two inches short. “Merlin’s big toe!” he yelped, hurriedly trying to cram in a few more sentences before professor Ferguson came around to collect their essays.

A week later, his exclamations became utterly ridiculous.

“Oi! Pettigrew! Did you just steal my chocolate frog?” he yelled across the dorm room, “What the frick frack tickity tic tac snick snack, bro?”

Remus snorted. “Excuse me?” he said incredulously, “what was that, again?”

“Oh, bite me,” Sirius huffed, and threw himself onto the bed, “I hate this stupid bet. I can’t express myself!”

James shot Sirius a dirty look. “Oh, I’m so sorry, do you miss being the most vulgar person in this school? That must be so difficult for you. Meanwhile, I’m pretty sure Evans thinks I’m the world’s biggest prat after all the times I’ve run away from her in the last two weeks.” James vented his frustration by punching his pillow into a more comfortable position before lying back to sulk properly.

Remus gave him a placating look. “The bet doesn’t stop you from talking to her, James,” he said as if James were a toddler on the brink of a tantrum, “why don’t you just say hello once in a while? That’s nice and safe.”

James fixed Remus with his most withering stare. The last two weeks had made him grumpy beyond belief. “I can’t even look at her without you lot accusing me of cheating. And there’s no way I’m losing this bet. I’m so close to victory I can almost taste the top box seats.”

“Fat chance,” said Sirius smugly, as he squeezed the stress ball Remus gifted him to help relieve his reflex to curse.

James’ downfall came in the form of Severus Snape.

The students were unusually silent at breakfast that morning. The Daily Prophet reported that Melanie Lensard, a Hogwarts graduate, had been murdered in her Lancaster home alongside her muggle-husband. The Aurors reported that they suspected Death Eater involvement.

James shot a sideways glance towards Lily. She wasn’t eating but instead pushed some scrambled eggs around her plate solemnly. James couldn’t blame her. He had only forced himself to choke down food so that he wouldn’t be dead on his broom for quidditch practice. But, he supposed, he couldn’t possibly know how she felt right now.

Sirius stared wanly down at his copy of The Prophet. “Today would be a great day for cursing,” he said in a half-hearted attempt at humor.

Remus patted him on the back. “Go out and scream it into the glen. No one will hear you.”

Sirius shook his head. “No, I’m a man of my word,” he said pompously, “no cursing until we’re through.”

“Lily?”

The oily voice came from somewhere behind James. He whirled around to see Snape standing a few feet away, right behind Lily. He looked nervous, which just made him appear even more sniveling than usual, and he fixed Lily with a desperate stare.

“I wanted to know if you were… you know… doing okay.”

Lily did not turn to face him or even meet his gaze. “And why, Snape, wouldn’t I be okay?”

Snape flushed. “I just know you must have seen the papers.”

Lily rounded on him, eyes blazing. “Yes, I have seen the papers. I’m sure you lot are thrilled, aren’t you?”

Snape paled at this. “N-no,” he stammered, taking a step back, “of course I’m-”

“But that’s just it!” she snapped. James could see her fingers itching toward the want that lay next to her fork, “there is no ‘I’ anymore with you. If you’re with them,” she pointed towards the other sixth-year Slytherins, “then it’s just ‘we.’ I won’t let you try and separate yourself from your nasty little friends. I made excuses for you for years, and I won’t do it anymore!”

She was yelling now, and students along the Gryffindor and neighboring Hufflepuff tables had started to go quiet.

“Lily,” said Dorcas, who laid her hand protectively across Lily’s, “leave him. He’s not worth it.”

Lily laughed a cold, mirthless laugh. “You can say that again. Snape, you’re nothing but a spineless, weak, snot-nosed coward, and you’d best run back to your Death Eater pals before I jinx you so hard you’ll be pissing yourself for a month.”

Snape did not stick around to retort. Instead, he scurried back to his waiting comrades, doing his best to look dignified as he ran from his former friend.

The table was silent for a moment. Lily was panting slightly. James could feel it building in him. No, he had to suppress it, he had to win the bet, he had to think of the look on Sirius’ face when he declared victory, he had to-

“Bloody hell, Evans!” It was no use. The damn had broken. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my goddamn life.”

Lily looked slightly startled at this declaration. Then, slowly, she grinned. “Glad to hear it, Potter. I aim to please, after all,” she said sarcastically. Then she sat back down to chat with her friends, looking marginally more cheerful than she had before Snape’s arrival.

James smiled softly at her as he watched her come back to life. If he had even the smallest bit to do with her change in mood, he was satisfied.

That is until he saw the look on Sirius’ face.

“Victory is FUCKING sweet!” Sirius shouted so loud that half the table jumped.

James put his head in his hands. “Alright, alright, you win.”

“You’re bloody right I win, you glorious piece of shit,” Sirius leaned across the table to thump James on the back.

“I knew you couldn’t do it,” Peter shook his head as he returned to his breakfast.

Remus laughed. “I tried to help you, James. But I guess in the end you couldn’t help yourself. It’s your primal instinct to hit on Lily Evans.”

James sighed into his hands. As far as defeats go, this one wasn’t so bad. At least she was smiling again.

“Right, I’ve got a lot of time to make up for,” Sirius said as he pulled a bit of parchment from his school bag, “I’ve been taking notes on all the cussing I need to do. To start with, Peter, you’re a two-faced motherfucker for stealing my chocolate frog.”

#nina writes #prompts #joyseuphoria #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #lily evans #severus snape #james is simp nation #i just love goofy sirius okay

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causeimasinger · 4 years ago

Text

in honor of eddie month, i’m releasing a collection of WIPs that will never be completed (usually because i just ran out of momentum writing them). they’re all eddie centric and canon divergent. here’s the third!

this is about 3600 words! featuring a lot of internalized homophobia, a gay crisis, and eddie’s issues from the book with religion and worrying about going to hell and how that ties into his sexuality

“Meet back in half an hour?” Mike’s voice was cheery as he looked around at the six other Losers that stood in the hotel lobby.

Beverly and Eddie spoke at the same time – Beverly suggesting they do breakfast instead so everyone could get some rest, and Eddie loudly saying: “You expect me to get this nasty shit off of my body in less than thirty minutes?” He noticed Richie wince next to him. “What?”

“Dude, you’re screaming,” Richie told him, just as Mike agreed with Beverly.

“No I’m fucking not,” Eddie countered, frowning.

“As much as I hate to agree with Richie,” Stan said, “you are. Clean out your ears while you’re in the shower.”

Eddie gaped at his friend. “My… my ears?”

“Bet you got leper puke in there,” Richie added, grinning. Eddie was horrified. He hadn’t realized everyone else had already headed upstairs to their respective rooms to shower – except Beverly and Ben, who seemed to have entered the same room. He wasn’t even sure where Mike had gone.

“While you guys argue, I’m going to take a shower and call my wife,” Stan said, an embarrassed expression crossing his face. Eddie wasn’t sure what to say; they all knew the story: Patty had caught Stan in the midst of writing seven letters, stopping him from making any permanent decisions and calling Mike to find out what had been so awful that her happy husband had decided to calmly sit down and write suicide notes for the people he loved. Mike and Stan had explained the situation to her as well as they could; in the end, it had been his own wife who convinced Stan that he couldn’t turn his back on a promise.

“Well, I’ll see you in thirty minutes, Eds,” Richie said, when the door closed behind Stan. He started up the stairs when Eddie’s voice stopped him.

“There’s… I don’t have a shower curtain anymore,” Eddie told him, voice still too loud. “Or, it has a knife hole and blood on it…”

“Eddie Spaghetti, are you trying to get naked with me?”

Eddie floundered, face turning red. “Wh – I – No! I just. Shut the fuck up, Richie!”

Richie laughed, gesturing at Eddie to follow him. “C’mon, dumbass, you can use my shower. I’ll even let you go first.”

“Wow, my knight in shining armor,” Eddie muttered, following Richie up the stairs. He’d already brought his luggage back up and left it outside his own room, so he grabbed it and entered Richie’s room. Richie was already digging through the one small suitcase he’d brought.

“You know…” Richie started, then paused. Eddie looked at him, dropping his toiletry bag on the bed next to Richie’s luggage. Richie looked back, biting his lip. He finally shook his head. “Never mind.”

“What?” Eddie asked.

“Just take your shower, Eds,” Richie sighed. Eddie felt his stomach drop and knew there was disappointment on his face. Richie was looking down at his bag, still moving clothes around like he was looking for something, but Eddie was sure it was just a way to avoid eye contact. He waited for Richie to say something for a few moments, and when he didn’t, he rolled his eyes and went into the bathroom.

It was disgusting work, peeling off the clothes he’d been wearing for over 24 hours. He realized this outfit had been on an airplane, in a rental car, at a restaurant, in the basement of the pharmacy, covered in Leper puke, bled on from his own stab wound, through the Derry sewer system, into It’s lair and finally into the Quarry.

He already began making plans to burn all of it.

The shower in Richie’s bathroom was exactly the same as the one in his own, down to the ugly green color of the curtain, and the sight of it made him shiver. He stood under the water unable to close his eyes, constantly checking to make sure a crazy escaped inmate wasn’t waiting on the other side of the curtain with a knife. He’d seen Bowers’ dead body, but he couldn’t help but think the sharp end of a knife was going to tear through the curtain at any moment.

He started by cleaning out his ears, steadfastly avoiding looking at the gunk that he removed, then moved onto his hair, because he knew he’d have to keep his eyes closed the longest to rinse out shampoo and he wanted to get it over with. It took three washes before his hair felt sufficiently clean, and he’d only peeked around the shower curtain four times. After that, he used a washcloth from the hotel, lathered in his own antibacterial body wash, to scrub every inch of his skin until he was bright red but clean. He checked for an intruder only twice as he did so. He washed only the bottom half of his face with his face wash, choosing to scrub his forehead with the washcloth so as not to risk soap in the eyes. It wasn’t until he had opened the curtain and begun to dry off that he realized how hard his heart had pounded the entire time he’d been showering.

He was going to have to find a place with a walk-in shower, the kind with a glass door and glass walls, once he decided where he was going to live after he left Derry. Not only did his house in New York have tubs with shower curtains, but it had Myra and years of unhappiness, and he had already decided he was not going back.

Once he was dry, he stepped out of the shower and frowned, wincing when it pulled at his cheek. He wrapped the towel around himself tightly and exited the bathroom, already planning to avoid Richie’s gaze and letting his eyes go directly toward his suitcase on the bed.

However, they landed on Richie in nothing but a white t-shirt and boxers on the bed, instead. He was clean, hair wet against the pillow, and he grinned wolfishly at Eddie.

“Oh,” Richie said. “Do you have something you need to tell me, Eds? You sleep in the nude? I’m sorry, but I’m not your wife, so – “

“Shut the fuck up,” he groaned, ignoring the heat in his cheeks. “I forgot to bring a change of clothes with me. How did you shower?”

“I used Ben’s, since he’s busy fucking Beverly in hers,” Richie answered casually.

“Christ, Rich,” Eddie muttered, shaking his head. “Don’t… You can’t say shit like that, they’re our friends.”

“Just because they’re our friends doesn’t mean we have to pretend like they’re not absolutely having sex right now.”

“I’d prefer not to think about it, actually,” Eddie said, kneeling down to the floor where Richie had placed his luggage and looking for something to use as pajamas.

“I’d prefer to think about it,” Richie grinned, waggling his eyebrows at Eddie, who had glanced up to give him a disgusted look.

“Stop thinking about Beverly naked, Richie.”

“Oh, it’s not Beverly I’m thinking about,” he said.

Eddie whipped his head around, clutching a t-shirt in his hand.

“Oh, come on,” Richie said, looking in the opposite direction. His fingers fidgeted where they rested on his chest. “Ben’s super hot now, and Beverly’s like… my sister.”

Eddie wasn’t sure what to say. Was this a joke?

“Um,” he cleared his throat when his voice cracked. “What?”

“Don’t act all oblivious now, Eds,” Richie continued, though Eddie could hear the discomfort in his voice. He always resorted to that fake laughter, to jokes that didn’t quite land, when he was nervous.

“Uh – Is this…” Eddie trailed off, staring at Richie’s poker face. “I can’t tell if you’re being serious about Ben. Like, are you actually attracted to him?”

Richie glanced to the side. “Attracted to him how?”

Eddie felt the urge to stomp his foot. Richie was being difficult on purpose and he wasn’t sure how, but somehow this was a ruse to make fun of him. “Attracted to him the normal way, Richie. Like, physically. Sexually. Whatever.”

“Well I certainly wouldn’t say no if he offered,” Richie shrugged.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie said, “but is this you coming out to me right now?”

“I thought I did that at dinner when I talked about how hot Ben was.”

“Can you be serious for like, five seconds?”

“I am being serious!” Richie insisted, sitting up. Eddie pulled his t-shirt over his head without removing the towel from his waist. “I mean… if you’re okay with that?”

“If I’m okay… With you being attracted to Ben.”

“No, you fucking dumbass!” Richie rolled his eyes. “I don’t give a shit about Ben!” He paused and shook his head. “Okay, no, I give a shit about Ben, just not like that. I just meant… if you’re okay with me being… not straight.”

“Oh,” Eddie breathed. He was clutching his towel.

“I uh, probably should’ve done this at a better time, huh?” Richie said, cheeks red. He laid back down, staring up at the ceiling. “Like, when you’re not naked.”

“I’m not naked,” Eddie argued weakly.

“You’re naked enough,” Richie muttered.

“I don’t know what that means.”

“God, Eddie, please tell me you’re not this fucking stupid.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Eddie asked angrily.

“Nothing,” Richie answered, shaking his head. “Just go back to your room, Eds. I’m sure your bed doesn’t have blood on it.”

“Dude, no,” he said.

“I’m not asking, Eddie. You need to leave.”

Eddie stared, eyes wide. He’d never heard Richie’s voice like that and it made his stomach drop. He felt glued to the floor, watching as Richie sat up and put his feet on the floor.

“Eddie,” Richie said, his voice still cold. “I can’t do this right now, okay?”

“Do what?” He knew he sounded whiny but he couldn’t help it, Richie wasn’t making any sense.

“I can’t talk about my fucking feelings with you, Eddie,” Richie yelled, standing up from the bed. “Not when I just came out to you and you had no fucking reaction, and you’re either stupid or purposely ignoring what I’m trying to tell you, and you’re fucking naked!”

Eddie exhaled heavily. “You said you were attracted to Ben.”

“Oh my God,” Richie laughed to himself, though there was no humor in it. “So you are actually just that fucking stupid, then.”

“I’m not stupid, Richie, I understand what you’re telling me!” He shouted, finding a pair of underwear and gripping them in his hand. “I just – I don’t know what to say! I don’t know what you want me to say!”

“Just say you don’t hate me,” Richie choked. He looked up and there were tears in his eyes. Eddie’s heart lurched. His eyes drifted down, taking in the way Richie’s t-shirt was tight on his broad shoulders, the way it was so thin he could see the pink of his nipples and the black of his chest hair, and even lower than that more black, leading down… “Eddie?”

His head snapped up, heat crawling down his chest. “I-“ He took a moment to regain his thoughts. “I don’t hate you.”

“You sound very believable,” Richie snarked, falling back down onto the bed. “Now that we’ve had this shitty conversation, can you please just leave?”

He was trying to sound unbothered, even verging on annoyed, but Eddie could hear the hurt underneath. He didn’t know how he felt, but he knew he hated to hear Richie sound like that. Gathering his resolve, he found a pair of pajama pants in his luggage and marched back into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He made short work of dropping the towel and dressing, ignoring the way his hands were shaking.

He'd never thought of another man like that. He’d never –

But that was a lie, and he knew it.

He had thought, he’d just ignored it. Even though he’d told Myra he wasn’t coming home, she was still technically his wife. And for his entire life, he’d technically been a straight man.

(Straight men don’t want a better look at their best friend’s happy trail, his brain told him, and he shut his eyes tightly to try and make the mental image go away.)

So he occasionally spent a little too long looking at other men. And he occasionally thought of strong thighs and broad shoulders and low groans when he got off. But it wasn’t…

He thought back to childhood. Had he felt like this about Richie then, too? He remembered how close they had been, physically. Had he been leading Richie on, all those times he climbed into the hammock with him? All the sleepovers where they shared a twin bed? The movie nights where he hid his head in Richie’s shoulder during the scary parts?

Was it leading someone on if you wanted it, too?

What if you didn’t even know you wanted it?

Did he want it?

He didn’t notice he had begun to wheeze loudly until there were two knocks on the bathroom door. He jumped, gasping for breath he didn’t have. He felt dizzy.

“Eds? Are you okay in there?”

There was concern in Richie’s voice, none of the hurt from before. Eddie yanked the door open to find Richie standing on the other side, his worried look exactly how Eddie had pictured it.

“I’m sorry, Eds,” he mumbled, stepping back so Eddie had room to get through the doorway without getting too close. Eddie didn’t move. He tried to breathe in deeply, gripping onto the door handle. “I didn’t mean to freak you out-“

“Can you help me?” He asked, interrupting Richie’s apology. Before he could answer, Eddie went on. “When I – When I breathe, can you count? Slow; 4 in, hold for 4, out for 4?”

He wasn’t sure if Richie could even understand what he was saying, but Richie was nodding, grabbing his hand and leading him to the bed. Once he was sitting he closed his eyes against the dizziness and gasped for air, ignoring the tears that leaked out the side of his closed eyelids.

Richie’s voice was quiet as he counted. It only took a few minutes before Eddie was breathing on time with Richie’s count, and it was only then he realized they were holding hands. With his free hand, he wiped the stray tears from his face. Once he felt like he could speak again, he turned to Richie.

“Panic attack,” he whispered. “Not asthma. Myra always just made me use my inhaler but… I saw a therapist, for a little bit. She taught me how to… How to make it stop, without it.”

“Why would she still think you needed your inhaler if it’s not asthma?” Richie asked, keeping his voice at the same quiet level as Eddie’s.

Eddie huffed a laugh. “Because it makes me weak. She likes me weak.”

“Eds, you’re not weak. You’re probably the bravest of all of us.”

He shook his head. Richie didn’t say anything else, just sat next to him while he focused on keeping his breathing even. He didn’t want to think about Myra, or about the kinds of things you need to be brave for. Richie was still holding his hand, and he let his eyes wander his direction, past where their hands lay in between them and to Richie’s legs, bare in just his boxers.

He’d never paid much attention to his own legs, or really the legs of other men. It wasn’t something that had crossed his mind

(except maybe it had, when he was younger and laying in a hammock, but it wasn’t really about legs then, it was about skin, the electricity he felt on days they both wore shorts)

Except in his dreams, the fantasies he pretended he didn’t have, the ones where thick, hairy thighs were wrapped around him, around his waist, around his head, on either side of his own – and he pretended not to think about what was in between, either, how lightheaded he felt when he got fucked up enough to really let himself think about it, to think about what was inside Richie’s boxers

(but it wasn’t Richie’s cock he dreamed about (wasn’t it, though?) when he took enough of those anxiety meds that his filter turned off)

And he could see it now, at least the outline, where thin material didn’t do enough to hide what was inside.

He was breathing too quickly again.

“Eddie-“

“You need to put pants on,” he choked out, taking in a deep breath.

Richie stood up immediately but Eddie couldn’t look at him as he spoke, embarrassment evident in his voice. “Fuck, Eddie, I’m sorry, I didn’t even think about it – I – fuck, I swear I’m not – I really don’t want to make you uncomfortable-“

“It’s just-“ He sucked in another deep breath, clenching his fists. His mouth started moving without his permission. “It’s – It’s hard to have a fucking gay crisis when your legs and your – your fucking dick are right there and I want-“ he closed his eyes when he heard Richie’s breath hitch. “I just… want. And I can’t have because the second I do I’m – I can’t – It’s wrong, Richie. It’s wrong, right?”

Richie had put on a pair of sweatpants while he was talking, and now he knelt next to Eddie, making sure to keep some distance between them. His face was red, and Eddie could tell his breaths were harsher than normal, could see his own hands clenched into fists. But he didn’t say anything, just looked at Eddie, who choked out a sob. “Help me,” he begged, though he wasn’t sure what exactly he was asking for. He just wanted, and he needed that to be okay.

“It’s not wrong, Eds,” Richie finally said. He sounded breathless. One hand came up to rest on the mattress next to where he sat. “I know it – it was fucking hard growing up when we did, right? Getting called names and listening to people talk about AIDS like it was punishment, and even now, hearing all the bullshit from people who swear it’s all a sin, like it’s something we chose. But we didn’t, okay? You didn’t do anything wrong, and if you… If you choose to act on it, you’re still not doing anything wrong.”

“How do you know we won’t go to Hell?” Eddie whispered, grasping the comforter in his hands. He felt young, like a child asking for reassurance, but he felt trapped in his own mind.

“I don’t, really,” Richie answered. Eddie looked at him, helplessly. “But I think… You go to Hell for doing bad shit, right? For being a bad person. But there’s nothing – there’s nothing bad about love. I’m not doing anything bad by loving you.”

“What about sex? That’s – that’s the bad part, right? Love is great and whatever, but when it’s sex…”

“That’s not bad, either,” Richie promised. Eddie jolted when he grabbed one of his hands, uncurling his fingers from the blanket. “It’s natural and normal. But I don’t – I really don’t know what else to say, Eds. That’s probably more suited for like, intense therapy.”

Eddie nodded jerkily, laughing a little and squeezing Richie’s hand.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, “for talking me down. You were always the one that took care of me.”

“Yeah, well,” Richie shrugged, voice still soft. “I love you, so I’m gonna take care of you no matter what.”

Eddie wanted to tell him, wanted to say he loved him, too, but the words felt stuck in his throat.

“I’ll always let you take care of me,” he said instead, and hoped Richie understood what he meant.

“What are you going to do next? With – As far as, you know, your marriage?”

Eddie sighed. “She already knows I’m not coming home, but… I still have a job in New York. I guess I’ll have to find an apartment. I don’t know. And you’re right, I should go back to therapy, because I clearly have some shit to work out.”

Richie nodded. “I don’t think there’s a single one of us that doesn’t need to go to therapy weekly for the rest of our lives.”

Eddie snorted. “I don’t know how well a therapist would take it if you walked in and started talking about how you fought and killed an evil alien clown.”

Richie laughed. “Eh, I’ll write it into a standup routine instead. Comedy is basically therapy, anyway.”

“No,” Eddie said, vaguely alarmed. Richie was grinning at him. “No, Richie. It’s important to me that you understand joking about your trauma onstage to a bunch of strangers is not the same as therapy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Richie said, waving him off. He crawled backward until he was leaning against the pillows again, the same way he’d been when Eddie had gotten out of the shower. The bed was big enough that if Eddie were to lay next to him, they wouldn’t be touching. He thought about it. “And if you want, I have an apartment in the city. I’m not there very often, I spend most of my time in LA or on tour, but. There’s two more bedrooms than I need and… I mean, we could split rent or whatever. Even if it’s just til you find a place for yourself.”

Eddie looked at him. He wasn’t avoiding eye contact, but he wasn’t making an effort to look at Eddie, either. His hands were folded on his chest.

“Okay,” Eddie agreed, taking a leap and situating himself next to Richie on the bed. His head hit the pillow and he sighed. He closed his eyes and tried not to think about how close Richie was. He fell asleep to the soothing sound of Richie’s even breaths, and when he woke he felt more rested than he had in years.

#ek #eddie month

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l8rhader · 4 years ago

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I'm sorry. I just...Bill had no sooner pressed submit on the design and laughed as he pressed the button to purchase 8 of the t-shirt. Richie Tozier '20. He was thrilled with the outcome and positively giddy at the thought of his friends receiving their gifts. Ever since Richie had engaged in a Twitter beef with Kanye, Kelly Conway, and the President, the idea had been stuck in his head and he had to see it through. In his mind's eye, the group would all wear them to his next show and then toss one onstage at him during a break.

However, his mind's eye was blind to the fact that Richie’s husband-cum-interim-but-probably-permanent-manager got a Google alert every time his husband's name was used. Looking away from his computer and down to his phone, his eyes narrowed. "Stan, I'm gonna have to call you back. We have a funeral to plan."

"A funer-" he started, furrowing his brow. It didn't matter because Eddie was gone.

Pressing the 3rd speed dial on his phone, he was connected to Bill in a flash. "Hey, Eds. Funny you should call-"

"If he ends up in the oval office because of some stupid prank, I'm going to hang you by your toes from the top of the Washington monument, William Alexander Denbrough, and I will get away with it because, somehow,” he rested his head on his palm and groaned, “Somehow, in your pinnacle of horror cliffhangers, you will have made Richie Tozier president and I will have a damn country to run!" When he paused for a breath, Bill's snickering was suddenly audible. "This is not funny! Do you remember what happened last time? We're not fourteen anymore and this is not a mock election for student council! We're adults and between the pair of you and Ben and Bev, you have enough followers to conceivably make a go of it and this cannot happen, Bill!" He rubbed his temples and closed his eyes. "You know I'm gonna hear about this forever, right?"

Bill sighed and shook his head. "You know it's not that bad, right?"

"You know you're an asshole, right?" He sniped through the phone with no real bite.

"You know you have to wear one to his the show, right?" Bill countered.

That was the image that broke Eddie. He barked a laugh. "Yeah, I know. Love you, Big Bill."

"You too, Eddie. See you next weekend," he said, finally starting to gather himself. That is until his phone lit up again with a picture of Stan. He took a deep breath and pressed the button to accept but was greeted, instead, by the banshee-like yell that signaled to the Losers that they had done something so truly hysterical that Stan was nearing aneurysm territory. He was so ready for the payoff.

When Richie strode out onto the stage amidst the announcer's booming voice, ready to take on his new special, Bev gasped, catching a glimpse of the black t-shirt with Richie Tozier ‘20 gleaming across the chest in red and white as it peeked out beneath his blazer. She slapped Mike’s knee and leaned forward to look past him at Bill. Bill looked absolutely stunned. He glanced over at the man beside him accusatorily.

“I swear, Bill, I didn’t,” Eddie whispered, shaking his head. Of course, Richie had bought himself one. He watched, dumbstruck as Richie did his trademark walk, but tried really hard not to notice that his husband, bless him, seemed to forget that he’d recently bulked up quite a bit in the chest and shoulders. Finally, he leaned to his friend and whispered, “I cleared the notification and everything. The asshole must have searched his own name.”

Eddie shook his head. He should have known. It was too good for Richie to pass up.

Having gone to great lengths to avoid revealing his surprise, Richie flicked off his jacket with an excited "How're we all doing tonight?" Eddie’s nervous energy flowed through him and into the hand he'd clasped with Stan who gripped right back. It wasn’t Richie’s first rodeo. Hell, it wasn’t Eddie’s either, but somehow, he couldn’t help but be at least a little nervous about his live wire.

"Welcome to the Trashmouth National Convention. I'm proud to be your nominee this year," he boasted. The crowd gave a confused laugh. "Okay, seriously, which one of you dipshits made this?" He pointed up to the balcony. His fans always had ridiculous merch available online with quotes from his shows. This was new. He pulled the mic from the stand and strolled forward. "Because, I hate to be the one to tell you, it's the worst idea I'm officially obsessed with." He laughed and crossed his arms casually, almost thoughtfully. "I've already got my platform. It's really a 3 part system..."

As he spoke, his friends were almost floored. Of course, it was funny. He's Richie, that's what he does. But it makes sense. Even Mike, who stands just about as far to the opposite of Richie, personality-wise, is hard-pressed to find a flaw.

"Of course, my main platform is reclaiming the name of Richard in politics." He scowled and gave a patented double peace sign. When the grown-up portion of his audience laughed, he pawed them off playfully.

That's when he sees it.

That's when he sees that the entire front row was dressed in identical Richie Tozier '20 campaign shirts and the Trashmouth facade faded away into unrelenting laughter. "Okay, which one of you assholes did this," he coughed between peals. He pointed at Bev accusatorily. She threw her hands in the air, insisting innocence.

Bill called out above the howls of laughter and pointed to himself because he knew just as well as Richie that half of his audience comes in the hope that the Losers will be there and the comedy will delve into personal rhetoric and ridiculous stories about clowns and Paul Bunyan and knife-wielding bullies that exactly no one believes but they're so over the top that they can't help but laugh. Richie doubled over clapping and stomping his feet, his entire act disregarded. Moving to toss the shirt onstage, Bill fumbled and passed it to Ben who flung it effortlessly.

"The talent is supposed to be the one with the T-shirt cannon, Ben," Richie laughed as the shirt zoomed past him, having put no effort into catching it. He darted upstage to retrieve it and unfurled it, identical to his own and his friends. "You know, Bill, I was gonna make you my Vice President, but I'm not too keen on fragging, jerk. Guess it'll have to be Stan."

In tandem, Eddie and Stan folded their arms and shook their heads, sending him off on another bout of riotous laughter. "Okay, he might be more likely than Bill." He loosened his imaginary collar and pulled a face before returning to his routine. If there was one thing of which he was sure, it was that his own personal cabinet could and would never, ever put him under friendly fire.

...

Maybe.

#this is a real shirt that exists #richie tozier #finn wolfhard #bill hader #it #it chapter two #stephen king's it #reddie #bill denbrough #eddie kaspbrak #james mcavoy #jaeden martell #james ransone #jack dylan grazer

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amyscascadingtabs · 5 years ago

Text

i’ll walk through hell with you

chapter 6. i’ll be your arms, i’ll be your steady satellite

read on ao3

read earlier chapters

The Santiago Siblings with families spend a weekend together, Amy’s feeling weird, and Jake’s getting suspicious.

september.

Amy throws out the ovulation tests first. Then, most of the pregnancy tests.

She keeps a few, in case of emergencies, but she hides them so far inside their bathroom cabinet, buried underneath boxes of band-aids and disinfectant wipes, she tells herself it’s the same thing.

She also throws out the vitamin supplements and the gross herbal teas, and puts the cherished pages of the fertility binder through her paper shredder while Jake shakes his head at her.

“You’re being crazy,” he states when she empties the paper confetti in the trash, immediately tying the bag shut and placing it by the door.

“Nope,” she responds. “I’m finally being sane.”

She stops doing yoga, not that she got into a habit with it in the first place. She goes back to her usual diet and coffee habits. She deletes every fertility-related bookmark off of her computer and unfollows all the Instagram accounts she once tried to find support in. There’s a smidge of panic and hard-hitting grief the first few times she sees a pregnant person somewhere, a harsh pain that comes with knowing for certain she’ll never experience it again, but most of all, Amy feels free. As heartrending as the knowledge is, she’d take it over uncertainty any day of the week.

Her days of the week are moving quickly, too. It's like the moment she stopped being consumed by this, the rest of her life caught up with her, and now it’s speeding past. Leah starts her first Tiny Tots preschool class, and her parents cry for a good ten minutes after dropping her off the first time because their baby is growing up and it’s all moving too fast. They start doing proper research on allergy-friendly cats and even schedule a visit at a cattery. Work speeds up and she has to work overtime for more days in a row than she's done since having a kid, making her fear their apartment will fall into pieces and her daughter forget who she is, but she comes home each night to dinner on the table and Leah in pajamas begging her to read a bedtime story. She makes sure to thoroughly thank her husband, especially the night when there’s a takeout box with potato pancakes waiting for her, and promises him a proper reward once the weekend rolls around.

“Cool, cool,” he mumbles half-asleep as he makes himself the little spoon in bed. “Also, while we’re on the topic, those potato pancakes definitely weren’t because Leah and I had ice cream for dinner. In case you were thinking that.”

“Jake.”

“Mm. Goodnight, babe.”

Even without the fertility treatments, her free time between work and family life remains strictly limited, but she does manage to squeeze in something much needed. Every other Thursday night at eight o’clock sharp, Amy finds herself outside the door to Rosa’s apartment, and every night Rosa cuts right to the chase.

“You’re not pregnant?”

“Nope.”

“Not taking any fertility medication?”

“Stopped them all.”

“Take a shot, Santiago.”

She’s decided not to tell more people about her experiences, doesn’t see the point when all she wants is to forget, but every other Thursday night, she vents. Rosa lets her speak, sometimes offering commentary but mostly just nodding, and Amy’s pleasantly surprised to discover it helps.

She’s not alone, and most importantly, she’s going to be okay again.

october.

As the end of October arrives, it becomes time for the weekend with all the Santiago siblings and their families renting a cabin upstate. Tony calls it a tradition even though it's the first time they're doing it, but when Amy points this out, he simply shrugs and says it's important to have goals in life.

At first, she's skeptical about it - spending four days in a cabin with fifteen adults, thirteen kids and one dog feels like a polar opposite to the relaxed family time she craves - but it's been forever since she saw them all and she supposes she could use some time away from Brooklyn’s buzzing city life, so they decide to go. She nearly regrets it after three hours in the car with the Frozen-soundtrack on repeat, but then they reach their destination, and all is forgiven when Leah runs to hug all her cousins.

Friday morning, they arrange a big leaf fight in the yard. At first, it's kids against adults, but as more and more children drop out, it becomes Santiago siblings against partners, and as more and more adults drop out too, eventually it's just Amy and Julian against Jake. The fight lasts until Jake starts complaining about there being leaves in his ear. At that point, Amy's laughing so hard her stomach hurts.

“Loser does all the dishes after lunch,” Julian grins, and Jake looks like he's about to cry.

Amy checks in on him after ten minutes. His shirt is wet from the soapy water and she can see the terror in his eyes as he looks to the mountain of dirty plates, glasses, and cutlery, but he’s scrubbing hard at them one by one with furious determination.

“Need any help, babe?” She sneaks her arms around him from behind, pressing a kiss to his neck and pulling out a small twig that’s still stuck in the back of his hair.

“Desperately,” he groans, wiping his hands on his jeans and facing her. “But I have to prove my strength to your brothers.”

“Actually, I’m pretty sure Julian just wanted a reason to see you in a wet t-shirt.”

“He could have just asked.”

Amy laughs, shaking her head. “I’ll help you out.”

He squints. “Are you sure? You look kind of... tired.”

She raises an eyebrow.

“Not like that,” he says, rolling his eyes. “But you look a little - I don’t know - pale? Did you not have coffee this morning?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t finish it. Creamer tasted weird.” He opens his mouth to say something, but she shuts him up with a glare. “I’m fine. Come on, I’ll help you finish these.”

They manage to get done right on time for a family walk in the woods. Leah makes it about a quarter of a mile before she starts complaining, so Jake carries her on his shoulders, which results in immediate chaos and tears from David’s twins when they demand the same and David can’t carry them both. Amy helps her brother by carrying Samuel on her shoulders, but the kid must have dog hair on his clothes from playing with Julian's dog, because her nose gets stuffy after only a minute. If it weren’t for the animal being straight-up adorable, or for Leah's excitement when Julian asks her if she wants to hold Oscar’s leash for a minute, Amy swears she would be yelling at this dog, too.

The stuffy nose lasts for the entire afternoon, and she curses the fact that she forgot her allergy nasal sprays at home. Luckily, she’s surrounded by plenty of good distractions, and the afternoon disappears in a jumble of trying to keep different children from hurting themselves or others while also trying to make sure they’re happy, and if she’s not watching any kids, she’s trying to keep up with what feels like a billion different conversations going on at the same time. It’s enough to make anyone exhausted. She tries to have another cup of coffee, black this time to avoid the probably-bad creamer, but she only gets down a few sips before her throat goes all dry and she has to breathe real hard for the nausea to pass. She pours out the rest in the kitchen sink.

Despite her tiredness and stuffy nose and sudden coffee aversion, Amy has a lovely day. When afternoon becomes evening, everyone who isn’t cooking dinner makes their way down to the nearby lake to watch the sunset. Leah’s in Jake’s arms with her head on his shoulder, looking all cozy in her purple fluffy hoodie as she sings the lyrics to Moana in the wrong order, and Amy can’t fight the urge to kiss her sweet little face until Leah grimaces and says stop, mama, hiding her face in Jake’s shirt as he laughs.

They’re her favorite sight in the world - the love of her life, and the child who’s held Amy’s whole heart in her hands since the first time she waved to them on an ultrasound screen over three years ago. Jake whispers something to Leah that Amy can’t hear, the girl giggles, and her heart aches with how much she loves them. She may never get the kids-plural family she pictured in her younger days, but she gets this, and it’s better than anything she could have imagined.

When all the kids have gone to bed - save for seven-month-old Charlie, who’s wide awake and happy to get passed around between different pairs of arms - the adults gather in the living room for a chance at uninterrupted conversation and a glass of wine. Amy finds space in the corner of a couch, with Jake on her left and Tony’s wife Clara in an armchair on her right, and gratefully accepts the glass of red wine Lucas gives her. She takes a sip, first enjoying the taste, but the second sip tastes off and the third is awful. She tries to hide her grimace as she puts it down on the side table and asks for a glass of water instead.

She's not really listening to the conversation, zoning out and just enjoying the comfort of Jake's arm around her shoulders, but Clara nudging her arm gets her attention.

“Do you want to hold Charlie for a while, Amy?”

“I’d love to,” she says, and the next second there's a baby in her arms who's shooting her the brightest of toothless smiles and reaching for her necklace. Charlie’s chubby fingers try to grab the L and J-pendants, so she gently separates his hands from them and he starts playing with a sling of her hair instead.

“Oh, you're strong,” she laughs as he grips it. “Wow.”

“Tell me about it,” Clara laughs. “Sometimes he’s lucky he’s cute.”

Amy smiles. The baby is already snuggling his head into her chest, making himself comfortable. He's truly adorable with round cheeks and light-ginger hair, melting her heart as he grips onto her shirt.

She's missed this. Still, it’s less painful now that she knows - she might never have more babies of her own, but she’ll always have plenty of nephews and nieces to hold, cuddle and play with.

“You're adorable,” she whispers to Charlie with a kiss to his forehead. “Yes, you are.”

“Hey, Amy?” David catches her attention from the opposite couch. “Aren't you guys going to have more kids?”

She can feel Jake freeze next to her.

“We’ve thought of it,” she says calmly. “But we landed on one kid. We’re happy with that.”

Jake squeezes her shoulder.

“Really? Huh.” David nods in surprise. “Don’t you want more kids, Jake?”

“It's not my decision to make,” he shrugs, like it was an obvious fact. “I'm just hoping we can get a cat soon.”

Charlie falls asleep in Amy's arms, staying there even as people begin to drop out and head to bed. She gives him back to Tony when it’s time for a diaper change, closing her eyes and leaning against Jake's chest once her arms are free again.

“You okay, Ames?”

“Yeah,” she promises. “Just sleepy.”

“You didn't drink anything,” he notes, nodding to her untouched glass.

“Did you try the wine?” He nods. “I hated it. I think Julian has crappy taste in alcohol.”

Jake shrugs. “It tasted fine to me. Maybe your taste buds are being weird.”

“Or I have better taste than you.” She kisses him on the cheek. “Let's go to bed, babe.”

She’s barely closed her eyes before Leah climbs into their bed, full of energy as she makes space between her parents.

“I wanna go outside and play,” she insists, and when this doesn’t garner enough of a response, she frowns. “It’s morning!”

Amy reluctantly opens her eyes to reach for her phone, reading the time. “Half-past seven.” Weird. They went to bed at one a.m. and Leah’s slept through the night, yet it feels like she was woken up after ten minutes.

“Hey, I have an idea,” says Jake, pulling his daughter close and tickling her neck. “How about we play in here for a while? I have a great idea for something.”

“What?”

“Well, you see, bumblebee, you’re a super brave space pirate. This bed is your spaceship, and mama and I are your innocent, weak humans that you’ve captured.” He yawns. “The rules are that we have to lay still. If we move, we’ll fall out into space and, uh, die.”

“Okay! Dada, still!”

“I love this game,” Amy mumbles, pulling the covers closer around herself.

The spaceship game lasts a full ten minutes before Leah tires, deciding that her parents are too boring captives for her taste and starting a new game that circles around her trying to jump from the bed onto her mattress in increasingly creative and less-than-safe ways. Jake defuses the situation before she tries to do a backflip, suggesting that they get out of bed and see if any other cousins are up yet, and Amy tries to open her eyes again. It’s painful - her body screams for more sleep, and she channels this into the pleading look she gives Jake.

“Can I get another half hour? I feel like I’m going to collapse if I get up now.”

“Huh.” A line appears between his brows. “Are you sure you’re fine?”

“Yeah,” she yawns. “I just need thirty minutes, like I said.”

“Okay, I’ll wake you up when there’s breakfast - Lee, wait!”

He disappears out the door chasing after their daughter, and Amy sighs in relief as she lets her eyes fall closed again.

It still feels like no time has passed before Jake comes to tell her the thirty minutes are up, but she forces herself to get out of bed anyway. They have a long day ahead of them, and Amy’s not risking getting teased by her brothers for wanting to sleep in. Instead, she throws on a hoodie to hide the fact that she’s freezing, and pours herself a big cup of coffee at the breakfast table. She manages four sips before it threatens to come back up again. Luckily, one-year-old Milo chooses that exact moment to almost choke on his piece of toast, and no one except for Jake seems to notice the gagging expression on her face as she tries to swallow everything back down.

She must be getting the flu, or maybe she’s picked up some other bug from her daughter. She’s cold, a little dizzy, and the stuffy nose refuses to pass even though she keeps away from the dog. They go to play in the woods while the sun is still shining, and Amy’s enjoying herself as she watches Jake run with Leah in his arms towards a tree, touch her feet against the wood and yell Parkour! only to make the girl lose it with laughter every time, but she’s so tired when they get home, she’s barely sat down in an armchair before she’s nodded off again.

“Hey, Ames.” Jake’s firm hand on her shoulder makes her return to consciousness. His mouth is set in a hard line, and there’s a seriousness to the way he watches her that reminds her of the way he gets whenever she’s really sick, all worried and overly protective like he thinks she’ll instantly drop to the floor if he’s not right there. “Can we talk in private?.”

She nods, following him back to their bedroom where he closes the door. He sits down cross-legged on Leah's mattress, and she takes her chance to lay down on the bed, propping her head up with two pillows. “Okay. What’s up?”

He gives her a scrutinizing look. “Are you sure you’re just tired?”

“I mean, I feel a little off, I’m sort of dizzy and my allergies are annoying.” She sniffles. “Probably coming down with some bug. Why?”

“Your immune system is way better than mine, though. I’m always the first one to get sick after Leah and I’m fine. I don’t even think she’s been ill in weeks. Isn’t it weird that you’re the only one feeling sick?”

Amy shrugs. “Exception that proves the rule?”

“Yeah, or you’re not sick.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ames,” he says in a low voice, his tone slightly hesitant. “You don’t think there’s a chance you might be - I don’t know, pregnant?”

“Come on. How would that have happened?”

“Uh -”

She rolls her eyes. “Sure, but I think we established my body didn’t want it to happen for us again.”

“Maybe, but face the facts. You’re exhausted, your taste buds are funny, and you were like, seconds away from throwing up your coffee this morning. You’re cold, you’re dizzy…” He counts on his fingers as he lists the symptoms. “It sounds a lot to me like before we found out you were pregnant with Leah?”

“Or it sounds like it's been a couple of intense months, my body's fighting an infection and I’m getting ill once I'm relaxing.”

“Have you gotten your period this month?”

She glares at him. “Stop.”

“Well, have you?”

She sighs and pulls out her phone from her pocket, opening it to her period tracker. Current Cycle - day 33. “It's a few days late.”

Jake’s eyes go wide.

“No.” She shakes her head before he can say anything. “Nope. That doesn't mean anything. My cycle got screwed up after the treatments and they said it could take months to return to normal.”

“Yeah, but…”

“No. Seriously. We both know I’m not pregnant.”

He squints. “We do?”

“Yes. And I can’t let myself think about it, Jake, because if I do…” She bites her lip at the crystal-clear memories of ovulation strips, shots and negative pregnancy tests, of feeling betrayed by her own body time and time again. “I’ll start to go crazy. I just got away from that obsessive headspace. I can’t go there again, I can’t have another negative staring me in the face, I just… can’t.”

He nods slowly, gaze still full of worry as he sits down next to her. “Okay. I just thought I’d ask.” His hands rub soft circles on her neck to ease the tension there, his lips brushing against hers for a few seconds. “Love you.”

“Love you too.” She sighs. “God, I need another nap.”

“I’ll make an excuse for you,” he says, and she swears she’s never been more in love with him in her entire life.

Jake doesn’t bring it up again, and Amy’s grateful. It's not that she doesn't wish for his suspicions to be true - her falling pregnant naturally would be a miracle - but she can't let herself think about it, let alone hope. She spent a year hoping and it led nowhere. This isn't the first time she's imagined symptoms that turned out to be nothing. If she lets herself have hope another time, only to be faced by cruel disappointment, she's certain she's going to shatter.

The weather changes from gorgeous sunshine to heavy rainfall, effectively locking every present Santiago family member inside of the cabin and creating yet more chaos. Luis and Christian organize a game night for the kids, first consisting of child-friendly memory-games and puzzles, but as more and more kids go to bed, eventually the adults drag out Monopoly and get drunk. They also get insanely competitive. When Simon starts threatening Tony about having him do another challenge for his YouTube channel, and Tony threatens to wrestle Simon right there on the floor, the game is quickly changed to Cards Against Humanity which soon becomes a dangerous game of Never Have I Ever. Amy opts for alcohol-free wine, and it’s probably lucky, because her brothers are ruthless. Never have I ever had a catastrophic double date - drink. Never have I ever made out with someone at work - drink. Never have I ever accidentally startled a man with a genetic heart condition, resulting in his immediate death - drink, remind Julian he’s an asshole, and come up with a good revenge question. She’s relieved they go to bed before anyone can suggest a game of truth or dare.

The next day, she's feeling much better, and manages almost half a cup of coffee without nausea. She must've been right about it being some kind of infection, she thinks, pleased that it seems to be passing.

The weather isn't improving, so she teams up with a few of her brothers and their families to go to a nearby, kid-friendly, museum while Jake, Julian, and Simon visit a sneaker outlet. Leah finds an activity station and plays there for nearly fifteen minutes with her cousins before breaking down in tears when someone takes a crayon from her, and after it’s been another ten minutes of crying, Amy eventually chalks the child’s sudden fury down to low blood sugar. She ruffles through her bag for a snack and finds an unopened bag of dried mango, and two slices later, Leah is back to normal. Amy also finds an unopened tampon package, giving her a nudging reminder that her period’s still nowhere to be seen, but she shakes away the thought. Had this been a couple of months ago, she would've been rushing to take a test, and she gives herself a mental pat on the back for acting so calm about it now. She knows this means nothing and she's not stressing out. There’s this tingling, cramping, feeling low in her stomach anyway, aching for a moment before immediately fading. Surely that must mean her period is coming.

They go to bed early on their last night away, ready for the drive home the next day. Leah wakes up crying about a nightmare, so Amy ends up sleeping next to her in their bed with Leah's little legs curled against Amy's stomach and her hand gripping her wrist. As far as sleeping positions go, she could think of far more comfortable or ergonomic ones, but there's no denying the coziness of it. Leah snuggles her nose into the crook of Amy's neck, and Amy falls asleep just smelling her head, and if she’d ever been asked to describe the word peaceful with one situation, she would have chosen this.

At first, she thinks she's dreaming about a real past event. She's back in the bedroom of their apartment, with Jake sleeping on her right and Leah asleep in her room, but Amy's awake. She can't tell why, isn't fully aware of the narrative here, but she can tell that dream-Amy has an instinct. Something is causing her to get out of bed, walk towards their bathroom and grab a pregnancy test - one of the cheap paper strip ones - from a visible spot in the bathroom cabinet. Something is making her take it. Dream-Amy watches the test, sitting perched on the toilet and staring intently at the first line, and after what feels like the blink of an eye inside of her dream-reality, a second, faint but clear, line shows up.

Even though it's a dream, the explosive happiness is every bit as real as if she'd been awake. She takes the paper strip, wrapping it in a bit of toilet paper, and is about to go ask dream-Jake if he can see it too when she’s pulled out of the dream and back to reality.

“What the hell,” she mumbles as she opens her eyes. Jake and Leah are still sleeping, and it's every bit as dark outside as when they went to bed, but Amy's wide awake and officially weirded out. She's never been one for dream analysis or seeing them as omens of any kind, but something about the realistic feeling has caught her attention, leaving her confused and wondering if there’s any truth to it. She tries to repeat to herself that there isn’t, she isn’t pregnant and should go back to sleep, but her mind is reeling. She tries to do some breathing exercises to force her mind and body back to a relaxed state, but it’s out of reach. The what if-narrative plays on repeat in her head, and eventually, she accepts that she’s going to need to at least outrule the possibility. She’s pretty sure there’s a spare test left somewhere in her bag.

Carefully, she frees herself from the three-year-old’s grip and climbs over Jake instead. He grunts and opens his eyes for a second, but closes them again in the next.

Amy uses her phone’s flashlight to dig through the contents of her bag, finding her calendar, pencil case, notebooks, and a crossword magazine. Headphones, painkillers, an extra phone charger. More snack bars and packets of dried fruit. Wet wipes, tissues, hair ties, and some makeup. She moves on to the inner pocket, finding allergy medication, tampons, even an expired condom that seems to have nestled its way into the bottom of the bag and stayed there for years, but no spare pregnancy tests. She almost thinks she’s found one, but a closer look tells her it’s an ovulation indicator, and she groans with disappointment. She could have sworn she left one for emergencies, but suddenly it’s gone, and she could wait until tomorrow and buy one, but she wants - scratch that, she needs - to know now.

“Ames? Are you looking for something?” Jake’s voice is raspy, a mix of surprise and pure confusion in his tone, and she hums vaguely without looking back at him.

“I thought I had something in here,” she says in a whisper. “But I can’t find it. It’s nothing, you can go back to sleep.”

“What’re you tryna find?”

She sighs. “I had a weird dream, okay? So I want to take a pregnancy test, because I just need to know it wasn't real so I can go to sleep. I thought I had one in here, but I don’t, so…”

He yawns, and then, in a movement far swifter than she would expect from someone barely-awake, he gets out of bed and walks over to the plastic bag he brought home from the sneaker outlet.

“Jake, I’m sorry, but I don’t care about your sneakers right now,” she wheezes. He shakes his head and brings out another, smaller CVS plastic bag.

“I know,” he says, “but you might care about this.” He throws her a familiar, pink-and-white carton, and she’s not even caught it before she knows exactly what it is.

“You bought a pregnancy test.”

He nods.

“What - when - why?”

“There was a CVS close to the outlet, I told Julian and Simon I needed to buy some Aspirin, ran in and got this. They didn’t see it,” he assures her, noticing the worry on her face. “I was smooth. And as for why - I know you said you didn’t want to hope, but I thought in case you changed your mind and wanted to know, well... “ He shrugs. “It would suck if you were stuck here with no way of finding out, even if it was just another day. I know how much you hate not knowing.”

She twists the carton in her hands. “I really do hate it.”

“So, are you…”

“I’m going to take it. Now.”

“Now - now?”

“Now.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then they’re silently racing each other out the door.

Amy’s so used to the steps at this point, she doesn’t even feel the anxiety kick in until she places the test on the sink and nods at Jake to start the timer. There’s barely space for them both to sit on the floor of the tiny bathroom, so they’re squeezed together, him stroking her hair and holding her hand as she focuses on keeping her breathing steady.

It doesn't matter what it shows, she tries to tell herself without success. It’s just to check.

And yet, there's this odd sense of hope in her heart she doesn't recognize from the last months.

“How did you guess?” She asks Jake, and he wrinkles his forehead, so she clarifies. “You remembered all the symptoms.”

“Oh.” He blushes. “This is going to sound bad, but… do you remember before we found out you were pregnant with Lee? There was like a week before you took a test, where you kept complaining about how it felt like you were getting the flu, or some kind of infection, because you were feeling off.” He draws quotation marks with his fingers. “You kept repeating that. And I was so proud of myself, because I'm always the first one of us two to get sick, but I was feeling fine. I thought I’d finally get to brag, and I was so excited, but then we found out you weren't sick.”

“Just pregnant.”

“Yeah.” He smiles. “Which, of course, was so much better. Except I never got to brag. It's haunted me since then. So this time, when you said you were feeling off and like you were getting sick… I remembered, and I made a guess. Also, I’ve read the list in your binder. But honestly, it was mostly the first thing.”

Amy laughs, genuine and hearty despite her nervosity. “You're ridiculous.”

He puts his arm around her shoulders. “And yet you keep wanting to have kids with me.”

“It’s like I must be in love with you or something.”

Her comment makes him snicker, and she thinks, not for the first time, that there could never be another person she'd want to do this with - no matter the results on that test.

The timer rings. Jake turns it off.

“Do you want to check, or should I?”

“I don't think I can see another negative test,” she whispers, the fear making her heart beat out of her chest, and he nods and tells her to close her eyes. She hears him fumble for the test, and then he finds it, and there’s a moment’s silence that drives her crazy.

“Ames?”

“Yeah?”

“What’d you say two lines meant, now again?”

She opens her eyes, immediately snatching the test from his hands. “No way.”

It’s faint, but there’s an obvious second line.

Amy just stares at it. She's worried it’ll disappear, like her mind’s playing tricks on her, but it stays.

“This is crazy.” Tears of happiness flood her eyes once she speaks. “This is - this is absolutely insane.”

“Told you so,” says Jake in an attempt of sounding smug, but she can tell he’s about to tear up, too.

“This is positive.”

“Sure is.”

“Oh my god.” She can’t tell if she’s laughing or crying, but she’s shaking, unable to believe her eyes as she looks from the test to Jake and back at the test. “Oh my god, you’re going to brag about this forever.”

He grins. “Consider the fact that I won’t to be a testament to how much I love you.”

She’s too overwhelmed to know what to say, so she just hugs him, smiling into his chest as he peppers kisses to the top of her head.

“Hey, Ames?”

“What?”

“We’re having another baby.”

She’s spent a year wishing for it, getting used to the thought in her desperation to get there, yet his words are impossible to take in. Another baby.

“Seems that way,” she whispers, and he laughs.

There’s a second test in the carton, and Amy wants to take it right away, but Jake convinces her to save it for tomorrow so they can go back to bed before anyone notices they’ve been occupying this bathroom for a suspicious amount of time.

She doesn’t think she’ll be able to sleep, not when a thousand thoughts are running laps in her head and she’s so in shock she thinks she might still be dreaming, but then Jake’s hand sneaks under the hem of her t-shirt and rests low on her stomach to make sure they're warm, he mumbles, and she places her own hand over his and relaxes.

november.

Logically, Amy knows she’s pregnant.

All of the tests, a new one every day even though Jake tells her she’s being crazy again, are coming back two dark lines and plus signs and bolded words Pregnant, and the expensive test with the week indicator which shows how long it’s been since ovulation changes from 1-2 to 2-3 and 3+ Weeks. The fertility clinic gives her a blood test, confirms it’s a healthy pregnancy and schedules an early ultrasound two weeks later, which feels like an eternity. Time is moving excruciatingly slow, even slower when the nausea fully kicks in and she wants to spend as much of the day as possible laying down. She’s secretly happy she’s feeling terrible because that means the hormone levels are rising, and Jake insists on high-fiving her after the first time she throws up, but it does make the days feel even longer when all she wants is for them to pass.

Emotionally, the knowledge is much more difficult to wrap her head around. She’s terrified, analyzing every minuscule shift in her body in fear of there being something wrong and checking for blood in her underwear several times a day. She’s short on distractions, because she’s exhausted and moving too much makes her feel sick, so she’s mostly stuck on the couch after work watching movies and cuddling with Leah. They're not telling her yet - they're not telling anyone, except Rosa who figured it out soon as Amy declined a tequila shot - and Amy feels like a shitty parent who doesn't have the energy to run around and properly play with her kid right now, but Leah seems to get that her mom’s not feeling well, because she's more than happy to read books together and watch iPad until Jake comes home and takes her to the park for a bit.

She wants to be happy, and every time she adds another positive test to the growing collection, she is, but she’s also dreaming nightmares and waking up in cold sweats in fear that this will be taken away from them. It’s too good to be true, the kind of happy ending you read about but never experience, and she can’t for the life of her try to fathom that it’s real. In short, she’s so hormonal she cries at stubbing her toe in the doorway, so nauseous she has to force down the few things she can consider eating, feeling guilty over how little energy she has to give Leah and how much responsibility this puts on Jake, and she can’t even allow herself to trust that they are having another baby.

“This isn’t forever,” Jake tells her on a particularly exhausting evening after she's cried in his arms and eaten three lemon popsicles because they're the only thing that tastes remotely good. When she's cried a little more, about her fear and bad conscience and the deep shame in not being able to feel happy about something she's dreamt of for a year, he tells her, “just three more days until the scan,” and that does help.

Amy doesn’t want to exaggerate, but she’s pretty sure the hours between six a.m., when Leah wakes up, and nine a.m., when the ultrasound appointment is, are the longest three hours of her life. Mornings are enough of a struggle to get through with a stubborn three-year-old who’ll put up a fight about anything from clothes to breakfast to brushing her teeth if she’s in the wrong mood, and they’re not made any easier when Amy’s feeling like this, but it’s moving particularly slow today when nearly all of her focus is divided between worrying about the scan and trying to keep her breakfast down. In the end, Leah doesn’t brush her teeth this morning and she has a yogurt smoothie in the car, but they manage to drop her off in time and she gives them a long hug each, so Amy considers it a success.

Unfortunately, it’s a temporary one. She’s so nervous she can’t think straight, can’t focus on the Taylor Swift-tunes playing in the car or reply when Jake asks if she’s excited. Her head is playing possible nightmare scenarios on a loop, of there not being anything there, of them not seeing a heartbeat, or something else that will leave them no choice but to terminate the pregnancy. Taylor Swift sings something about cloaks and daggers and bright mornings, and Amy tries to see if she can memorize the lyrics for a distraction. She doesn’t get far before they get stuck in a traffic jam, though, giving them no option but to drive a few feet at a time, accelerating and braking on repeat.

She knows that Jake tries to drive as smoothly as possible. He’s a good driver. She doesn’t have a problem with his driving, but the constant starting and stopping, the inevitable jerking movements, is absolute hell for her morning slash all-day sickness and suddenly all her focus has shifted to trying not to throw up in a moving car.

“I’m really sorry, Ames,” says Jake after casting one glance at her pale complexion, and she doesn’t dare to move her head but she mumbles a ‘not your fault’ before she goes back to taking deep breaths.

She makes it through the congestion, and the nausea’s easing as they drive the last stretch to the clinic, but then there’s a slight bump as they drive into the parking lot and the fight is lost. She stumbles out of the car in search of a trash can, but it’s too far away. Instead, she has to publicly humiliate herself by throwing up right there on the curb just as another couple is walking out of the clinic and giving her what she assumes are grossed-out looks. She feels Jake’s hands on her shoulders as she coughs up the last bit, grimacing at the foul taste.

“Everyone’s going to think I’m hungover,” she mutters as he leads her to a spot further away, urging her to sit down.

“Oh yeah. That’s definitely what they think about all the women who puke outside of fertility clinics.”

His comment makes her laugh, but the laughter makes her feel sick again, so she stops.

“You okay?” He asks, carefully scratching her neck with one hand as he digs in his messenger bag with the other. “I have water if you want to rinse your mouth, and I’m pretty sure I have gum somewhere.”

“I’ll take water,” she says, accepting the green kid-size bottle that was definitely originally Leah’s and taking a cautious sip. “Sorry about this.”

“You’re sorry?” He lifts an eyebrow. “Damn, queen of unnecessary apologies. It’s okay.”

“I feel like crap,” she groans, ignoring him. “Sorry for whining.” “Okay there, ridiculous. Stop apologizing. It’s not something you can control.”

“But I don’t want to whine about this,” it comes out of her before she can stop it. “I don’t want to be sad, or scared. We fought so damn hard to get here! It fucking sucked! And now - I guess we’re having a baby, but I don’t know how to believe that, and I have to deal with the fact that pregnancy sucks, too!” She shakes her head, instantly regretting the quick movement but continuing to speak anyway. “I just want to be happy, and grateful, and I am. But I’m terrified. I can’t trust that it’s really happening, that it won’t be taken away from us again, and on top of that I feel awful all the time. I just… thought it’d be different.”

Jake looks a little taken aback by her sudden outburst, opening his mouth before closing it and watching her with that same worried look she’s seen way too much during the last weeks.

“It will be,” he promises once she stops talking. “You’ve done this before. You know it gets better. You get a baby out of it, which - there are worse deals.”

“Yeah. But it feels so far away. It doesn’t feel remotely real. I wanted us to be happy now, to relax and enjoy this, but it feels like everything sucks.”

“Isn’t that just life sometimes, though? It sucks, and then there are awesome parts, and then it sucks again, and then there’s more awesome stuff.” He grimaces, looking down at the curb before meeting her eyes. “I know you feel like crap. I know you’re scared. Honestly, so am I. But we’re about to see our baby for the first time,” he smiles, “and that’s at least one of the crazy awesome parts.”

She nods. “It is.”

“Yeah.” He reaches for her hand, squeezing it. “I just think that… there’s always going to be shitty things, right? Sure, this year was rough, and I wouldn’t want to do it again, but we also had a million amazing moments with Leah, and together, in-between the bad parts. When this baby comes,” he nods to her still-flat stomach, “we probably won’t be sleeping and everything will be nuts for a while before we figure it out, but we’re going to have two kids and it’s going to be the best.”

“I know.”

“I’m going to tell you something I heard from a very smart person once,” he grins, looking proud of himself. “Life is unpredictable, but as long as you’re with the right people, you can handle anything.”

“That person sounds smart. Did they also make a butt joke after that?”

“Sure did. Made me cry, and everything. But what I was actually trying to say was…” Jake blushes, and she can tell there’s a moment of emotional sincerity coming. “I’m with you. I know that. I also know that as long as I’m with you, all the bad stuff is survivable, and all the good stuff is a million times better. And I’d rather have hard days with you, and Lee, and I guess soon whoever this is,” he holds his hand to her stomach through her sweater, “than good days with anyone else.”

“Me too,” she snivels, having to wipe the tears on her shirt sleeve because of course, this is making her cry. “How’d you get so wise all of a sudden?”

“Married you,” he shrugs. “And had kids. Also, I got hella old.”

“You’re forty-two.”

“Exactly. Shh.”

Amy laughs, with tears in her eyes because he’s hitting that perfect spot between wisdom and humor that’s one of the many reasons she loves him so much, and the smile on his lips grows wider once he sees that he’s made her laugh.

“I love you so much,” she whispers, cupping his face with her hands.

“I know. Love you, too.” She kisses him, and he kisses her back for a second before immediately pulling away and scrunching his nose. “Okay, ew, no. Vomity breath. Gross.”

“I thought I wasn’t supposed to apologize,” she teases. “But I’ll take that gum too.”

“Let’s just go inside and look at our baby,” he says as he hands her the packet, and she doesn’t protest.

There are some routine questions and another blood test, and then they’re ushered into the ultrasound room. She’s nearly holding her breath as she lays down, eyes glued to the screen and Jake’s hand squeezing hers so tight she thinks he might stop the blood flow if he squeezed any harder.

At first, she’s scared she was right and there’s nothing in there, because everything is blurry and she’s not sure what’s what, but then it clears slightly and the ultrasound technician points out a white blob the shape of a lima bean, and there are tears of relief running down her cheeks.

The technician says and here’s the heartbeat, and Amy has to clasp a hand over her mouth to keep from crying harder than she already is when a whoosh-whoosh-whoosh-whoosh-whoosh sounds through the room in quick little beats.

She could listen to that sound forever.

They get printed sonogram pictures of their fetus, which is slightly over an inch and just looks like a white blob but is well and truly perfect according to their doctor, and then they’re advised to go home and celebrate. They both have to stop crying first, though, so they stand outside the clinic for another while, just hugging without needing to say anything else.

“So,” Jake says when Amy’s finally found space to breathe again. “How do you want to celebrate?”

“Do you want to go to Target and look for another shirt that says Big Sister and some stupid cute tiny clothes?”

“Oh, you know I do.”

They get a long-sleeved pink shirt for Leah, six pairs of baby socks with animals on them and tiny pajamas with rainbow stripes, and then they buy alcohol-free champagne.

#my writing #b99 #brooklyn 99 #brooklyn nine-nine #peraltiago #jake x amy #b99 fic #brooklyn 99 fic #brooklyn nine-nine fic #b99 fanfiction #brooklyn nine-nine fanfiction #jake x amy fic #jake x amy fanfiction #peraltiago fic #peraltiago fanfiction #iwthwy

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heyyyharry · 5 years ago

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Chapter 15: Fright-day Night

(Halloween Special - from the Flatmate Trilogy: Two Hearts, One Home)

…in which they play treasure hunt on Halloween again.

Word count: 7.1k

Chapter 14: For Better Or Worse - Harry and Niall have a guys night, Y/N starts showing, and Layla loves her wedding dress.

What to expect in this chapter: Baby’s gender (finally) AND the biggest crossover since The Avengers!!! (Jk)

For this chapter, the Flatmate characters will meet Eddie from My Girl (Bambi’s boss). If you want to read the alternative version in which they meet Thea (Bambi in the Wattpad version), CLICK HERE

Harry used to hate the smell of the hospital.

It reminded him of germs and sickness, and that one time he nearly died in a jet ski accident. But now that he was there so often, he'd gotten used to it. He thought he might even like it, because every time he and his wife were there, they would walk out with good news.

"I think it's a girl," Harry blurted while anxiously picking lint from his sleeve, his other hand was squeezing Y/N's. They were in the hospital's waiting room, but he already had a feeling that this might be the best day of his life.

"Why do you think so, baby?" she asked with a smile.

"Mum said if you were more into salty food, you were having a boy, and if it was a girl, then you ate lots of sweet things." He chuckled and nudged her nose with his own. "I just filled your snack drawer with sweets a few days ago, and this morning when I looked at it, it was almost empty!"

"The snack drawer was your idea!"

"Yeah, because you either woke me up at 3 AM asking me to fuck you, or to go out and buy you some sweets. Now that you have your snack drawer, I will only lose sleep for sex."

"God, you're such a teenager." Laughing and shaking her head, Y/N threaded a hand through his hair and said, "guess we'll find out if you're right in half an hour."

Half an hour felt like half a century to Harry. But once it was finally their turn, he thought he might just pass out. He didn't know it was possible to get more agitated than the last time they'd been there, but when he took the same seat and watched his wife lie down on the same examining table, his insides were on fire. It didn't matter what his baby's gender was, because he loved them and his wife, anyway. Still, he was holding his breath and couldn't ignore the shakiness in his limbs.

"Congratulations," said the woman who was rolling the scanning device on Y/N's tummy. "It's a girl."

Those three words coursed through Harry's ears like Adrenaline through his veins. He tingled from his head to his toes, wanting to jump, but he was glued to the chair and his feet were as stiff as a rock.

It's a girl, said the voice in his head. I'm having a baby girl.

Y/N was saying something to him, but all he heard was white noise, while the name was bouncing inside his head. It felt as if there was an explosion in his brain, the good sort, and it took him a few seconds to come back to reality.

"That's Asteria, baby," Y/N said, tears streaming from her eyes though she was laughing.

Harry sniffled as he brought her hand to his mouth to kiss her knuckles a few times. "Hi, Ria," he said to her baby bump. "Your dad is here."

"Congratulations! You are the lucky ones who got invited to our joint bachelor/bachelorette/Halloween party!" Layla raised her glass as if she was making a toast at her wedding, when in reality, she and her friends were sitting in a small cafe. "Thank you, my dear future husband, for coming up with this brilliant idea."

"I came up with it, actually—"

"Shut up, Harry," she snapped at the poor guy and shushed everyone who dared to snicker. "Anyway, where was I? Ahhh, the party. So this year, I'm—"

"We."

"We're bringing back our favorite tradition—"

As Layla immediately corrected herself after Niall had corrected her, the Irish man smugly wiggled his eyebrows at Harry, who looked slightly offended for the opposite reaction he'd received. Meanwhile, everyone else was already yawning.

"If she wrote a whole speech about the Halloween game one month prior, imagine how long her wedding vow would be," Louis whispered and fist-bumped Liam while Trix and Y/N were trying not to laugh.

Layla, however, was so passionate about her special party that she just kept going, "our annual Halloween game is back!" she exclaimed and clasped both hands in front of her chest. "It's called 'Fright-day Night'. And Louis will be the host!"

As everyone turned to Louis, who did a tiny bow as if he'd just won an Oscar, Layla added, "in case anyone else's wondering why I didn’t pick one of you, well, y'all fucking sucked."

"I guess I'll...take that as a compliment!" Louis uttered as the corners of his mouth turned up. "We'll have a Halloween party after the game, so make sure you have your costumes ready."

"Yes!" Layla chimed in before Louis could steal her spotlight. "Niall and I will also participate in the game, so we know nothing about the clues or the prizes or where the party will take place. Louis will take care of that. Our only job is to follow his rules and have fun!" She tapped her finger on her lips as the chatter began. "I guess I'm done. Anyone wanna add something?"

Harry raised his hand. "I have something important to announce."

"Put your hand down, Harold. Nothing is more important than my—"

"We've just found out the baby gender."

"Oh my God, what?!" Layla shouted and everyone in the cafe snapped their heads to look at her. She appeared as if she'd seen gold when she turned to Y/N. "Bitch, you should've told me first!"

"Sorry, I was afraid you'd tell everyone else." Y/N smiled. "We wanted to tell you guys ourselves."

"Just tell me now, am I an uncle or an aunt?!" Niall blurted and quickly shook his head when everyone gave him questioning looks. "No, I mean—God! You know what I mean!"

Harry puffed out his chest and cleared his throat. "It's Asteria!"

"Yes!" Layla jumped out of her seat and smacked Liam on the back. "You owed me twenty."

"You made a bet on our baby girl?!"

"Yes!" She giggled despite the look on Harry's face and took the money from Liam, who seemed pretty bitter about losing. "I'm not surprised that I won though. I knew it all along that it was Asteria. I'm her Godmother after all."

"Aunt."

"Godmother. Deal with it." She gave Harry the finger and went on, "by the way, I'm calling her Teri. It's gonna be a special thing between Godmother Layla and baby Asteria, so none of you bitches is allowed to call her that."

"Did she just call dibs on our daughter?" Harry whispered to Y/N, who simply laughed and told him Layla was just kidding.

Fall went as quickly as it had arrived. There was only one more day until Halloween.

Layla had gathered the whole group at the same cafe, "so Louis could briefly give us instructions about the game," she had said. But everyone knew it was only an excuse for her to open a discussion about what everyone was going to wear so no two of them would show up in the same costume, "for the group aesthetics," she reasoned.

"Niall and I will be Gregory Peck and Audrey Hepburn in Roman Holiday," she cheerfully said, sitting with her back straight and arms crossed on the table, as if she was really princess Ann in the movie. "That means none of you losers can be Audrey Hepburn or a princess. Except for Y/N."

"Why?" Trix pouted.

"Because she's pregnant with my Goddaughter."

"Harry and I will be Flynn Rider and Rapunzel," Y/N said and Trix was smiling again.

"Ooh! The other day I was just telling Liam that you two reminded me of Flynn Rider and Rapunzel because—"

"Um, I have a question," Harry cut her off, raising his hand. "What are Jack and Gemma doing here?"

"Harry!"

"What?" He flinched as his wife swatted at his chest and everyone was laughing.

"I'm one of the bridesmaids. Why can't I be here?" Gemma gave him a shrug, arching an eyebrow.

Jack, who was sitting next to her, spoke fast, "Layla told me to come. I have no idea what's going on."

"Well, young Johnny Depp, you are invited to my bachelorette/bachelor/Halloween party because we need an even number of players to play the Halloween game."

"Or we can just not include Gemma." Harry lifted his shoulders in a half shrug and this time it was Gemma who swatted him.

Niall suddenly leaned in and whispered in his ear, "Layla is obsessed with Gemma, so if I were you, I'd shut up before I got uninvited to the wedding."

"I can't get uninvited, I'm the best man."

"Maybe we don't need a best man," Layla said, and Harry gasped, turning to Niall.

"Sorry, mate." Niall pursed his lips unapologetically. "You've chosen Y/N over me many times before."

"You're kidding."

Y/N shushed the boys and started stroking Harry's hair, knowing it'd turn him to a quiet little puppy.

Now that peace had been restored, Louis turned to Jack and Gemma. "Okay, I'm just going to explain again. Every year back in college, we would get together on Halloween for a game of treasure hunt. Each year, we took turns being the host who would come up with clues, the prizes, and the rules of the game. This time, I will be the host. The game is pretty simple. I'll divide you into two teams, and—"

"Wait, we don't get to randomly draw out our team?"

"No, Liam. Harry would cheat again so he could be with Y/N."

"I didn't cheat!"

"Yes, you did," Layla chimed in. "Liam saw you!"

"I did." Liam confirmed. "But I shipped you two so I didn't say anything."

"See? Cheater!" Layla grumbled as Harry flashed a peace sign at her, unapologetically.

"Okay guys, let me finish and you can roast Harry later," said Louis who rolled his eyes in frustration. "So where was I? Aaaah, the teams. Yes, there will be two teams, four persons each. You will find out which team you're in tomorrow night. And I will give each team different clues, the treasure this year is the Halloween party. You find the party, you win."

"Sounds simple." Y/N leaned back in her chair, hands on her belly. "Where are we going to play the game this year?"

"I don't wanna spoil the surprise," Louis told them with a mischievous smile.

"The cemetery?!"

Folding his arms, Louis chuckled at the way Layla's jaw fell open as she looked around the spooky graveyard. Rows of tombstones stood erect in silence, and in this starless misty night, the place looked like a sea of the dead. This could be the opening scene of a classic horror movie, in which a group of stupid people got murdered in a graveyard for playing a stupid Halloween game.

"If I'd known we would play in a cemetery, I would have dressed up as something else to match the aesthetic!" Layla huffed as she smoothed down her skirt.

"What's the point? You're gonna lose, anyway."

"Shut up, you stupid alien!" she glowered at Liam, who couldn't look more offended by the name.

"I am not an alien!" he objected, pointing to his hat. "I'm a space cowboy!"

"Guys, don't yell. Ria has ears now," Harry said as he hugged his wife from behind, hands on her tummy.

Appalled, Trix pointed to Y/N. "If you're Rapunzel then where's your wig?"

"It was itchy, so I took it off," Y/N explained as she tucked her hair behind her ear and looked down at her pink dress. "But you could still tell that I'm Rapunzel, right?"

"You look just like her," Jack said with a smile, and instinctively, Harry held his wife closer, not even giving her boss the second glance.

Jack was dressed as Jack Dawson, but Harry knew it was him who was the original Jack Dawson. In fact, he was Jack Dawson when he won the game with his wife. This wasn't a competition but Harry thought he'd already won.

"I'm Red Riding Hood," Trix said. "In case anyone's wondering."

"No, we're not wondering. You're literally wearing a red cloak, Trix."

"Layla, don't be mean to Trix," Louis spoke, turning all heads back to him.

"What are you supposed to be?" Liam asked.

"Alastor Mad-Eye Moody from Harry Potter," he said proudly and adjusted his fake eye. "Probably the coolest costume here."

"You wish," Layla spat, rolling her eyes. "No one could beat Audrey."

The group chatted for a bit while waiting for Gemma, who showed up last. She apologized for being late because she'd had to clean pumpkin guts from her car window. "Typical Halloween prank by the kids in the neighborhood," she said.

"Princess Leia!" Liam exclaimed, pointing to Gemma's space buns.

"Um, yeah." The older Styles chuckled. "Sorry, Layla. I got this costume before you said—"

"No, no, it's totally fine!" Layla shook her head quickly. "That iconic hairstyle totally suits you!"

"Wait, why do all the girls get to be princesses except for me?!"

"Don't worry, Trix," Harry said, pointing to her heart. "Every woman is a princess in here."

"Okay, can Princess Leia or the space cowboy shoot Flynn Rider right now?"

Harry extended his middle finger toward Layla and everyone dissolved in laughter.

Clearing his throat loudly, Louis got all eyes back on him and pulled out a little box from his leather satchel. The box contained eight pieces of paper, each folded in half, on which a player's name was written. "Take the one with your name," he said. "Okay, now open it. Those who see the word 'red' go to my left. Those with 'blue' go to my right."

Harry, Layla, Gemma, and Liam went to the left. Y/N, Niall, Jack, and Trix went to the right.

"Yay! We're on the same team!" Layla squealed as she saw Gemma, who gave the girl an awkward grin, not knowing why Layla was so obsessed with her.

"Harold!" Louis shouted, making Harry and Niall flinch. "Do not switch with Niall this time! I know what color you are!"

"What?! I wasn't gonna do anything!"

"Then step away from the Irish boy!"

Groaning, Harry shoved both hands in his pockets and took a few steps back, frowning at Y/N and Jack on the opposite side. Louis then handed each team another piece of paper. "This is your first clue. It will take you to the next place where the second clue is hidden. Get your cars ready and I'll see you at the party."

As soon as Louis wished them good luck and walked away, Y/N opened her team's first clue and read the riddle aloud to the other members. "There's a man with a crooked smile, his round face is scarred with a knife."

It only took her two seconds to snap her head up to look at Jack. "Jack-o'-lantern!" they said at the same time.

"That one's easy! Let's go find one."

Niall grabbed the hood of Trix's cloak before she could run off without them. "Hold your horses, Red. Every house has one of those, it's Halloween."

Jack nodded to agree. "Maybe it's not an actual Jack-o'-lantern. Louis did say'a place', didn't he?"

"Right!" Y/N exclaimed as she tugged at his sleeve. "There's a small Halloween night market for tourists called Spooky Pumpkins. It's only a five-minute drive from here."

"Great! Let's go!" Trix said as she skipped ahead, and the others quickly followed.

"They're leaving!" Layla whined, stomping her feet like an angry little girl, but nobody on her team paid attention to her.

"Help us think and we'll be able to catch up with them!" said Liam while Harry and Gemma were still analyzing the riddle.

"It's Halloween, we're all afraid. Take your time, but don't be late," Gemma read it aloud once again as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

"What the hell does it mean?"

Harry shushed Liam immediately and turned to his sister. "Gem?"

"Take your time," Gemma mumbled as she scrunched up her face. "Take your time, but don't be late. Take your time...don't be—"

"A clock!" Harry snapped his fingers. "This must refer to a clock."

"How are we gonna find a clock in a cemetery, genius?"

"Not here, genius." He glowered at Liam. "Louis said this clue would take us to another place."

"So...clock...Big Ben?" Layla asked.

"No, too far from here." Gemma shook her head. "It has to be somewhere near because it's only the first clue. We have to think smaller."

"There's a vintage clock shop near here. It only takes five minutes to drive there," Liam said and the others all agreed with him.

"Come on, let's go!"

As Harry motioned everyone to follow him and walked ahead of the group, Gemma gave Layla a nudge. "This is about Jack, right?"

"Yup." Layla nodded. "He becomes a dictator when he's jealous. But hey, we can always kill him after we've won."

"I heard that!"

Laughing, she shouted back at Harry, "I wanted you to!"

Y/N hated night markets.

She hated being surrounded by too many strangers. She hated it when someone bumped into her or stepped on her feet and didn't apologize. She hated the distinct voices and laughter as they gave her anxiety and a headache. Being at a night market on its busiest night was a Halloween nightmare coming true. It wasn't really a phobia for Y/N, but it was close, and so she didn't want to be obvious about how uncomfortable she was. She had scared Jack enough when they were stuck in a lift last year. Unfortunately, it wasn't hard to tell that something was bothering her as she was walking so close to his side, basically attached to him.

"You alright?"

"Yeah." She looked up to give him a reassuring grin and changed the subject, "don't you have other plans on Halloween night?"

"I don't even have plans on regular nights."

His answer made her snort. "I mean, working plans. I know you don't hang like the rest of us."

"You said it like it's a bad thing." He chuckled, shaking his head. "But I'm hanging with the rest of you now, aren't I?"

"Yeah, why is that, I wonder?"

"I have a soft spot for you, not gonna lie," Jack answered without thinking, and when he noticed the look on her face, he laughed it off and added, "you're like a little sister to me. That's what I meant."

"Oh? Should I take that as a compliment?" She smiled, and he gave her a shrug.

"Many people would kill to be considered my sister. You're lucky."

Y/N let out a slight laugh as she playfully pushed his shoulder. Before either of them could say anything else, Niall jumped out from nowhere and walked right in the middle. "So..." He threw an arm over Y/N's shoulders, grinning. "What were you talking about?"

Y/N was trying her best not to laugh. "Harry tell you to—"

"Guys?" Trix's voice cut her off. All three of them paused and turned around to find Trix panting as she finally kept up with them. "Shouldn't we stop and look for clues? Why do we keep on walking?"

"We are looking for clues," Y/N said. "We need to find a pumpkin-carving knife."

"Oh, that's very specific."

She immediately shot Niall a glare. "If I want sarcasm, I would rather have Harry on this team."

"Yeah. I miss that sarcastic asshole." Niall sighed.

"Hey, where is Trix?"

Jack's question got both of them to turn their heads, but Trix wasn't there anymore. It was like she had vanished into thin air.

"Trix? Where are you?!"

"Calm down, Y/N. She's probably—"

"Trix?!" Y/N ignored Jack and called louder.

"I'm here, Y/N!"

"Trix!" Y/N let go of a harsh breath and dashed toward the girl. "Where were you going?! Stay close to us, okay?"

"Look what I've found!"

Everyone jumped back when Trix pointed a knife at them.

"Woah! Be careful with that!" Niall hissed, making the girl giggle.

"Chill. I'm not gonna stab you! I'm not Layla! Look!"

Y/N was the one who stepped forward and took the knife from Trix. She peered at the shiny blade to read the tiny words written in permanent ink.

"The paper monsters under your bed, come from the lands inside your head."

Niall's eyes brightened as Y/N handed him the knife. "Our second clue!"

"Well done, Trix!" Jack said, giving Trix the thumbs up. The girl was so proud of her achievement that she couldn't stop bouncing up and down.

"I was just following the guy in the pumpkin mask with the Harry Potter scar and I asked him about the second clue."

"Okay, that was smart. Louis was dressed up as a character from Harry Potter, so it must've been a hint. But it was also dangerous to follow a guy in a mask," Y/N said as she held onto Trix's shoulder. "Do not follow guys in masks, okay? Not when it's night and you're alone. And definitely not on Halloween."

"Oh, okay." Trix batted her eyelashes and gave her an innocent smile.

"Guys, our second clue?" Niall spoke as he waved the knife to get the others' attention. "Any idea what it's trying to say?"

"Should we look under a bed?"

"I don't think 'bed' is our keyword, Trix," said Jack as he took the knife from Niall and reread the riddle a few more times. "Hmm, paper monsters from the lands inside your head..."

"How did Lou come up with these clues!" Y/N cried out, making Niall cackle.

"The dude literally makes a living from designing computer games so..."

"I used to have monsters under my bed," Trix suddenly spoke. "My mother had to read me Alice in Wonderland every night to chase the monsters away."

"Wait, that's it!" Jack's whole face lit up. "Books! We need to find the closest bookstore."

"Paper monsters from the lands inside your head!" Y/N gasped. "Why didn't I think of that? This must refer to horror fiction."

"Yup, horror or fantasy," Jack said with a small smile. "What's the closest bookstore here?"

"I know one! Let's go!" Y/N gestured with a thumb, and the rest hurriedly followed her.

Harry blew out his cheeks as he read the text from Niall and put his phone away. "They've solved their second clue," he told the others.

"Have you been texting with the enemy?" Layla, who was in the backseat with Liam, grumbled at him.

"It's just Niall."

"My husband and your wife are our enemies now. Stop communicating with them."

"Guys, we're here," Gemma announced as she parked the car on the side of the road, in front of their first stop.

The clock shop was so small it blended right in with the rest of the street, probably the reason Harry had driven by it plenty of times yet he had never once noticed it before. He was the first to enter, and the rest followed him in a line because the door wasn't big enough for them to walk through at once.

The place had that spooky charm, it was dull and quiet, no other sound but the chaotic ticking of the clocks. It was exactly how Harry imagined inside a madhouse would sound like.

"Hi, may I help you?" an old lady greeted them at the entrance. In this terrible lightning of the place, her teeth looked yellow and crooked and her face was as pale as a corpse. Layla and Liam were quick to hide behind the Styles and let them do all the talking.

"Hi ma'am..." Harry stepped up to shake her hand. "This may sound stupid but...we're playing this game and we have to solve riddles to—"

"Are you friends with the short skinny boy Lewis?"

"Louis."

"Yes." The lady smiled and adjusted her small glasses. "I love that boy, he comes over to keep me company whenever he's free. Who knew his friends were also such beautiful people. You, young man, look just like a prince."

"Thanks, ma'am." Harry chuckled nervously as she pinched his cheeks. "D-do you mind if we...um...look around?"

"Not at all, dear. Go ahead," said the old lady.

The four of them split to search for their next clues. They checked every corner of the store, and the lady let them do whatever they wanted and take as much time as they needed. When Layla found the piece of paper attached to one of the clocks, the old woman had already fallen asleep in her rocking chair.

"The witch has got a brand new nose, look where she would keep her clothes."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "A witch? Does any of you happen to know a witch?"

"Or someone with a brand new nose," Liam chuckled.

"And a lot of clothes..." Gemma said.

And all three of them turned to look at Layla, whose mouth fell open. "What?! I'm not the witch!"

Liam immediately took a step back to keep a safe distance from Layla before he said, "you got a nose job last year and you'd rather die than be seen wearing the same dress twice. So, yeah..."

"Do you guys call me a witch when I'm not around?"

"Yes."

Layla shot Harry a death glare and his mouth immediately snapped shut.

"Do you live near here?" Gemma asked, and Layla shook her head. "Then it can't be Layla. We don't have much time until midnight so these places must be close to each other."

"Layla's shop is just two blocks away," Harry said as he rolled up his sleeves. "I don't think the clue refers to her closet, because Louis couldn't have broken into her house and hidden stuff in her closet, right? It must be her clothing shop."

"Fuck!" Layla suddenly raised her voice and had to double-check if she'd woken up the lady. Turning back to them, she whispered, "yesterday he told me he was there to buy clothes for his sisters! That sneaky son of a bitch!"

"Okay, that's it! That's our next clue!" Harry said as he checked the time on one of the clocks. "Let's go! If we don't hurry up, Jack will win!"

"Did he say 'Jack' instead of 'they'?" Liam asked, watching Harry bolt to the entrance without waiting for anyone.

"Yup, get used to it," Gemma and Layla said at the same time.

Y/N had been to this bookstore twice with Harry. It wasn't so far from where they used to live back in college. Coming here tonight, she was expecting to see the old lady who always gave her discounts because she adored Y/N and Harry's relationship, but sadly, the lady wasn't there anymore. Instead, they met a young man who looked like he could still be a student.

"Sorry, we're closed," he said, about to turn off the last light when Jack stepped in anyway.

"It says 'open until midnight'." Jack pointed to the chalkboard by the entrance, but the employee gave him a shrug.

"Well, I've got only two employees, very lazy ones, and they didn't even bother to show up tonight."

"Wait, you're the owner of the store?" Trix asked.

"Why's it a surprise?"

"You look like a teenager..."

"Trix," Y/N warned her friend before turning back to the angry man, looking at his name tag. "Eddie, can we just look around for a minute? Um...it's kind of important. Please?"

Eddie seemed reluctant as he eyed them up and eventually drew in a long breath. "Fine. Only because you're polite."

Y/N happily thanked Eddie and followed him into the store. As he turned all the lights back on, Jack and Y/N hurried to the fantasy section while Niall and Trix went to the horror section. Dust collected everywhere as far as they could see. Jack and Y/N had to cover their noses and mouths as they looked through the dirtied shelves and stands.

"How can you work in a place like this?" Y/N asked, glancing at Eddie, who was watching them with his arms dangling at his sides.

"Well, I don't have a choice. It's family business." He hung his head and mumbled, "if only I'd stayed in college..."

"There's a book called 'I have sex with an alien'?" Jack said, making Y/N laugh as she took it and checked the front and back cover.

"I think one of my two employees hid it at the back so no one could see and buy it," Eddie said as he rolled his eyes. "Anyway, do whatever you want, I need to make a phone call."

When he was gone, Jack immediately turned to Y/N. "I would really love to meet those girls," he whispered, and Y/N nodded.

"Me too."

"Hey, guys!"

"Jesus, Niall!" Y/N smacked Niall with the book, causing him to jump away. "Stop doing that!"

"Sorry!" Niall rubbed the sore spot on his arms, his face contorted. "I just wanted to say Trix and I found the clue."

"Where?!"

Trix showed up, holding a book and an iPhone 5. "We found these on the top shelf."

"The Haunting Of Hill House," Y/N read the title before looking up and beaming at her friends. "Good job, guys! We're so gonna win!"

"Well, what's on the phone?" Jack asked, and Niall gave him a half shrug.

"Don't know. It requires a passcode to unlock."

"Wait, there's a bookmark." Y/N ranked her fingers through her hair, tucked it behind her ear and then opened the book to where it was marked. On the page was a highlighted sentence that said, 'Journey ends in lovers meeting.'

"That's Shakespeare," Jack pointed out.

"Maybe Shakespeare is the passcode."

"No, it's numbers, Trix." Niall exhaled as he rubbed his chin. "Try Shakespeare's birthday or death day."

Y/N was about to pull out her phone to go on Google, but Jack already entered those numbers.

"No, it's not it," he said, shaking his head and looked up to find the other three gawking at him.

"You know Shakespeare's birthday and death day?" Y/N questioned with her eyes wide.

With a cheeky grin, he smirked. "Well, don't you?"

"Please marry me," Trix blurted, and Jack's startled reaction to her 'proposal' sent both Y/N and Niall into hysterics.

Meanwhile, the other team had just found their third clue in one of the coats in Layla's store.

"Well done, Liam!" Gemma said as she unfolded the piece of paper and read the riddle aloud, "There's a princess in disguise. To find your next clue, just follow the light."

"A princess in disguise?" Gemma raised an eyebrow at Layla. "That's you, right? Princess Anne was in disguise so she could walk around Rome freely."

"It can't be Layla twice. The host is Louis, not Niall," Harry commented, making Layla roll her eyes.

"If Niall was the host, I'd be the princess and Louis would be the witch," she grumbled with her arms crossed over her chest. "Well? If the princess in disguise isn't me then who?"

"Who else could be the princess?"

"Gemma."

"A princess but not in disguise," Gemma corrected Liam.

"Princess Leia was disguised as Boush once."

"I'm not wearing a Boush costume, aren't I?"

As the two continued to argue over Star Wars facts, Harry was still mumbling to riddle and trying to solve it on his own. "Follow the light..." He pinched his bottom lip, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "The light...I see the light...and at last, I see the light! Yes!"

Everyone looked at him as he punched the air. "Tangled! It's Tangled! The princess is Rapunzel!"

"Y/N?!" Gemma smacked her forehead.

"Yes!" Harry exclaimed, his eyes sparkled with joy. "My wife is the motherfucking princess in disguise. She is our clue!"

"But she's on the other team," Liam said, shaking his head.

Layla thought for a moment before she raised a finger. "Maybe Louis wants us to meet."

"Yes! We have to go now! Let's go!" Harry was about to run toward the entrance when Gemma grabbed him by the arm, pulling him back to them. "Not so fast, Eugene. We don't know where she is."

"Oh, shit! You're right!" he said and pulled out his phone. "I'll text her."

Gemma gave him a nod to approve. "But don't tell her she's the next clue. Not until we get there."

"Harry just asked me where we are."

"Why are you texting with the enemy?" Niall asked when she showed them the message. Jack, on the other hand, straightened at once.

"Journey ends in lovers meeting." He stared at Y/N intensely. "That's it. You're supposed to meet Harry again and Niall is supposed to meet Layla. That's how this game ends. We're supposed to meet the other team."

"Maybe Harry got a similar clue and he knows we have to meet," Niall said.

Trix gave a slight shrug. "Or he just misses her."

"No, Harry's very competitive," Y/N said, shaking her head. "Jack's right. He wants something from us. Should I let him know we're here?"

"Do it," Jack said and stepped closer to watch her type down the message. "But don't let him know anything about our clue. Wait until they get here."

"When did this place become the tourist attraction?!" Eddie cried out as he watched another group barge into his bookstore.

Harry walked straight toward his wife and gave her a hug. And when Eddie saw him, his eyes went wide. "Hey, has anyone told you that you look like—"

"We don't have time for meet and greet!" Niall interrupted the man and pulled Harry and Y/N apart, pointing a finger to his best friend's face. "No touching until you tell us why you're here."

"He's right. Show us your clue."

"Wow, so this is how it's gonna be, huh?" Harry chuckled as his wife extended her hand toward him, palm up.

"We're still playing the game. Hand me your clue," she demanded.

Harry shoved his hand into his pocket, but Layla stopped him right away, pulling him to the side by his elbow. "Show me yours first," she said, her nose stuck up.

"Guys, I don't know what this is about, but you have one hour until midnight," said Eddie, who patiently checked his watch and blew out his cheeks.

Given no other choice, Y/N pulled out the phone. "We found a phone which requires a passcode. And the clue is a Shakespeare's quote: 'Journey ends in lovers meeting.'"

"Can I have it?" Harry asked and Y/N handed him the device. Everyone went silent as they waited for him to enter the passcode.

"It worked!" He cheered, raising a fist. "I'm in!"

"It worked?!" Layla slapped a hand over her mouth as Niall jumped in joy.

"Holy shit! What?! What's the passcode?"

"Y/N's birthday." Harry grinned at his wife. "Our clue was a princess in disguise and it told us to follow the light."

"Ha. I see the light. Classic." Y/N giggled and pulled Harry's head down to kiss him on the cheek. "My husband is so smart."

"Skip the sentimental bits. We don't have much time left." Layla smacked Harry on the arm, causing him to hiss and jump away. Stealing stole the phone from her brother, Gemma quickly went through the few apps on the home screen.

"Okay. The photo roll is empty. Messages. Empty. Notes. Empty."

"Try recording," Layla spoke, and Gemma tapped on the recording app.

"There's one recording!"

"Yes, wife!" Niall wrapped his arms around Layla and gave her a kiss on the forehead. "You're the best!"

"Is this the 'I love my wife' club now? Can the rest of us leave?" Liam joked, making everyone laugh as Layla shot him a death glare.

Gemma immediately shushed them all so she could play the recording. The first few seconds were nothing but silence, but then they heard Louis' voice. He said, "you're almost there, just look for white. Enter the room and claim your prize."

And it ended.

"That was it?" Layla scoffed as she exchanged looks with Y/N. "Look for white?!"

"Yes, that's the keyword," Gemma breathed. "White. What does the color white remind you of?"

"Snow?"

"It's Halloween, not Christmas, Liam!"

"You haven't watched The Nightmare Before Christmas, haven't ya?" Eddie spoke and Layla yelled at him to stay out of this.

While everyone was arguing with each other, Y/N subtly pulled Niall aside and whispered to him, "go get your car and wait for us outside."

Though confused, Niall trusted Y/N, so he didn't question her and just snuck out when nobody wasn't looking.

"White, hmm..." Layla trailed off as she shuffled her feet, one arm folded, the other rubbing her chin. "Treasure?"

"Treasure?" Harry chortled. "Our cat?"

"Yup."

Liam and Trix snickered at her answer, but Gemma and Jack were poker-faced.

"No, Layla's got a point," Jack said. "Louis did say the treasure is the party."

"Shit!" Harry cried out, holding his head. "Treasure is with Nam and Nam told me he'd taken tonight off to be with Ben. Treasure is at Ben's place! That's where the party is!"

Gemma groaned as she stomped her foot. "Why didn't I think of that? He gave us the final clue right from the beginning!"

Harry's team hadn't had time to react to the big discovery when his wife and her team shot right through the door. Niall's car was waiting outside, and they drove away in a matter of seconds. It took the others a moment to realize what was happening and all of them dashed off, not accepting defeat.

As the door fell shut in front of his eyes, Eddie was frozen, completely flabbergasted. He needed a minute to process everything and quickly pulled out his phone to make a call.

"Mum? Can you pick me up? I think I just met a cult."

"If we lose because we couldn't find a parking spot, I'd be so pissed," Layla panted as she chased after the others into the building right when Y/N's team was heading toward the lift. The two sides only shared one hostile look as the door opened, and the old lady in the lift was horrified when they all ran toward her. Harry was much faster. He almost got there when he heard Niall shouted, "stop! You're hurting Y/N!" which stopped him immediately.

"Which one of you fucking pushed her—"

"Sucker!" Niall pushed Harry aside, took Y/N's hand and pulled her into the lift with Jack and Trix. It took Harry nearly a second to realize he'd been fooled, but by the time he and the others got to the lift, it had gone to the next floor.

"We can just press the emergency button to stop it!" Liam said, looking frantically from left to right. "Is there one out here?!"

"Don't be fucking crazy. Y/N is afraid of small spaces!" Harry glowered at Liam as he crossed his arms and took a deep breath.

"Now what?" Gemma asked.

"Well, now we...wait for the lift."

"Niall James Horan!" was the first thing Layla shouted when she burst through the door into Ben's flat. She stormed right past the party guests who were clapping for her and grabbed Niall by the arm. "I'm gonna fucking kill you!"

All eyes followed Niall as he was dragged away, until Louis got up on a table and screamed, "party!" And everyone was cheering again.

"Let's hope they won't break up before the wedding," Trix said, but Liam only laughed.

"The only thing that they'll break tonight is a bed."

"Ew, gross!" Gemma cringed, pushing him away.

"Hey, there's a bar!" Jack exclaimed, making Gemma squeal in elation.

"Wanna get a drink?" she asked.

"Yes, please." He tossed his head back and sighed in relief.

The music was earsplittingly loud. Neon lights flashed everywhere like police sirens, but much more colorful. Harry guessed Ben wasn't kidding when he said he'd go all out with parties. Pushing his way through a room full of people, Harry finally got to where his wife was sitting with Ben and Nam on the couch. Treasure was lying on her lap. The cat was wearing a party hat that said 'I am the Treasure.'

"Punny." Harry chuckled, shaking his head.

When Y/N looked up and saw him, she was overjoyed. She handed the cat to Ben and got to her feet to give him a passionate kiss.

"I'm sorry you lost, baby," she said, nudging his nose with her own as she held his face.

He secured his arms around her waist, smiling against her lips. "Liar, you're not sorry."

"No, I'm so not," she admitted, kissing him. Again, and again, and again...

It was an exciting night, a great party, but it was over too soon for the married couple. They had decided to leave early because they feared loud music would affect their baby girl. The others were way too tipsy to see them sneak out, anyway. Layla and Niall were dancing on the table, apparently enjoying their last night before being married. Liam and Louis were hitting on some girls while Gemma and Jack were karaoke-ing with Nam and Ben. What a beautiful ending for the longest night ever, Harry thought.

"I can't believe the prize was 'friendship'! The only thing this game did was tear us apart!" Harry grumbled as he carried the cat to the lift and pressed the down button. "Baby?"

Turning back, he found Y/N standing still and staring at the door to their old flat. "I miss it, H," she said, smiling at him.

"Yeah, so do I..." He walked over to where she stood, sucking in a breath. "It's been so long."

"I wonder who lives here now."

"Wanna find out?"

"Wait!" She grabbed his wrist before he could ring the doorbell. "We could just ask Ben!"

"What's the fun in that?" Harry said and pressed the doorbell, anyway.

"What the hell, Harry?! We don't know them!"

"Relax, babe. We can just say we got the wrong flat number."

Harry had just finished the sentence, and the door creaked open. The first thing they saw was a face as white as a sheet. They both screamed, causing 'the face' to scream, and the two of them screamed again as they sprinted to the lift the second it arrived.

Breath busting in and out, the woman peeled off her sheet mask and cursed at the crazy couple now that they were gone.

"Aunt Lynn? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. It was just some Halloween pranksters," she said to the person on the phone. "Anyway, tell your boyfriend I said hi."

*Ending explanation for those who don’t read My Girl*: The woman who’s living in the flatmate babies’ old flat is also a character from My Girl - The MC’s aunt. :)

#flatmate!harry

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redrebecca · 6 years ago

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Fussy Eaters

Because trying to feed two toddlers is always a team effort

Warning(s): None

A/N: This had been in my docs for ages but i've finally got it finished so its all good now. Feedback is appreciated, have a god day!

Words: 1.8k

You gritted your teeth in frustration, a long staggered breath rushing from your nose as you resisted the urge to tug every single strand of your hair out.

“Raul, baby, please just eat some.” You moved the nemo themed spoon closer to his sealed lips but he turned his head the other way, effectively stopping you and the spoon in its tracks.

You dropped the spoon back into the bowl of Raul’s untouched tomato pasta and sighed in defeat. Usually he would eat it at such a speed you wondered whether he actually had a chance to taste it but tonight he wasn’t playing ball. So instead of having a night recovering from your stressful work shift curled up in your fluffy pyjama bottoms and one of your husbands old t-shirts, you were trying (and failing) to negotiate with a three year old. A situation you never thought you would find yourself in. “C’mon you need to eat something, I even put in extra cheese. You love extra cheese!” You hoped Raul would see the heaped amount of cheese in the pasta and maybe, just maybe eat a spoonful or two. But no, the toddler barely spared you a glance, never mind the pasta. You sat back in your chair and put your head in your hands.

Out of all your qualities he had to inherit your stubbornness.

Once you had regained your composure, you removed your hands and leaned forward so you were closer to where he was sat, small arms crossed against his chest and a pout. Just as you were about to grab onto the spoon, you stopped short as you noticed that the boy in the adjacent highchair had abandoned his fork (you were yet to trust Raul with anything remotely sharp) in his bowl.

“Leo,” You said slowly, your hand was still hung mid-air, just above Raul’s spoon, before you started to move it. He looked from his brother to you. “Why aren’t you eating?” You could actually feel your patience wearing away as each second ticked by. Oh the joys of parenting. He could sense the tension in your voice as you spoke and thought it best to stay quiet. “Leo Elijah Mendes, why aren’t you eating your pasta?” Even at his young age you could see the realization that you had just used the ‘full-name-card’ on him flash in his blue eyes.

“I don’t want it.” He mumbled, his eyes darting between you and his brother, who seemed blissfully unaware of your slowly increasing heartbeat and how your knee was starting to bounce.

“Tomato pasta is your favourite.” You said in a strained voice that was several octaves higher than it usually would be. Leo avoided your pleading gaze and focused on the designs on his fork, not wanting to upset his mum anymore. Raul, however, must have missed the memo Leo had gotten.

“I want something else.” He said, pushing his bowl to the opposite side of the tray. You looked over at him, silently willing him to eat his dinner and hopefully stop your hairs from growing grey – because by the rate they were testing you at recently, your hair would resemble that of an 80 year old by the time you reached 35.

“If you eat three big spoonfuls you can have something out of the biscuit tin.” You stood up and walked over to the sink, already knowing your efforts were wasted on the boys.

“I want ice cream!” Raul exclaimed, clapping his hands together and blatantly ignoring your offer.

“And I want a big glass of wine.” You muttered to yourself as you focused on calming your breathing down to a more sustainable rate.

Behind you, you heard the door to the kitchen open. You didn’t have to wonder who it was – the twins chorus of greeting their dad was all you needed to know that Shawn was the person who entered. “Hey boys.” He said, no doubt ruffling their hair. Moments later you felt the familiar pressure of his hand on your back and turned towards him, pressing your forehead into his t-shirt. He rubbed a hand up and down your back. It amazed you how such simple actions from Shawn could soothe you in seconds as you focused on the random patterns he was drawing along your spine. It was the low grumble of your stomach that pulled you back to reality. You huffed into his shirt at the thought of having to bargain with Raul once again. You weren’t entirely sure how a three year old had gained a higher position in the hierarchy than you, but he held all the cards (theoretically, of course. The last time his Aunty Aaliyah had given him a pack of cards he was adamant that he had to put every single one into his bottle of juice. Now the Mendes household owns a blackcurrant-stained pack of cards).

“Honey, have you eaten?” You shook your head and met his gaze, only to see the worry that clouded his brown eyes.

“I’m gonna get something after I get these two to eat, so don’t bother cooking for me.” You kissed his nose, loving the smile you received when you pulled back.

He glanced at the boys and stiffened. You noticed his sudden tension and turned to look where the twins were. Here we go again, you thought and rushed towards the two. “Raul do not throw your pasta!”

It had been twenty minutes, twenty torturous minutes since you had attempted to feed them. And in those twenty minutes you had achieved absolutely nothing. By this time, the pasta had turned so cold that there was no way the boys would eat it, so it was fair to say you were running out of options. The sound of the chair next to you being pulled out made you turn your head. Shawn put his plate down on the table and kissed your forehead before he sat down, scooting his chair closer to yours so he was in what he liked to call ‘kissing distance’. You sent him a tired smile and thanked him for the sip of his water he offered you.

“Dadda?” Raul’s voice caused both you and Shawn to look over. Shawn brought the glass away from his mouth and swallowed before answering.

“Yeah bud?”

“Can I have some?” Shawn’s eyebrows were furrowed as you glanced at him to see whether he had understood what his son was talking about. His facial expression complying that, like you, he had no idea what Raul was asking for

“What do you want?” Shawn asked, waiting patiently for him to explain. But his only response was pointing his little index finger to Shawn’s chicken and rice. It was almost comical the way you and Shawn looked up from his plate and to each other. He raised an eyebrow, to which you responded with a nod. He scooped a small piece of chicken with a few grains of rice onto his spoon and motioned for Raul to lean closer, to which he complied without any hesitation and opened his mouth. You stared in shock as you watched him willingly munch on the food. Why couldn’t he have done that earlier?

He clapped his hands and squealed. “More, more, more!” Shawn looked at you sceptically, ensuring that you were okay with Raul eating something that wasn’t his pasta. If this had happened about an hour earlier, you would’ve said no, but you were so exhausted that you weren’t bothered as long as they ate something. So you stood up to grab two bowls from the cabinet before returning to your seat. Shawn split his meal in half and handed the boys their new dishes. You both watched in surprise as they happily ate their food as if they hadn’t been completely refusing to eat at least 5 minutes earlier.

Shawn wrapped his arm around you and pulled you so close to his side that you were sat on his chair instead of yours. “Do you want me to order a pizza?” You nodded without hesitation into his shoulder – the idea of junk food sounding very appealing. But he didn’t move to grab his phone and try to find the local pizza delivery menu that was somewhere in the large stack of clutter that was in the drawer, instead he only held you closer. “What type of pasta were you trying to feed them?” He murmured into your ear, his hand brushing up and down your arm.

“Tomato” You mumbled into his shirt, your voice was barely audible but you could tell he heard by the snicker that left his lips.

“You thought my boys would eat tomato pasta?” He tutted. You lifted your head off your shoulder to send him a scolding look.

“I think our boys would love tomato pasta if their dad didn’t say how much he hated tomatoes at every,” You poked his side, making him squirm. “Single,” Another poke. “Opportunity.” He had grabbed your writs to restrict you from prodding him anymore. He shrugged, brushing off the blame,

“They’ve just got particular tastes.” You eyed him in an attempt to fathom whether or not he had intentionally quoted his own song. The mischievous glint in his eyes and the way the wrinkles appeared at the corners confirmed your suspicions. You shook your head with mock disappointment which evoked a hearty chuckle from him.

“What a loser.” You teased

“At least I’m not the one who married a loser.” He quipped. The smug look on his face was all you needed to know that he thought he had delivered the comeback equivalent of checkmate. But you spotted the loophole and ran with it. After all, his ego was getting to big.

“Aww baby!” You cooed in a high pitch voice. Shawn’s eyebrows furrowed – it definitely wasn’t his desired reaction. You pressed a kiss to his nose and plastered a sickly sweet smile onto your face which only deepened the crease along his brow. You leant in closer to him. “You just insulted yourself and complimented me, good one honey.” You patted his shoulder and untangled yourself from his arms to start the search for the pizza delivery leaflet.

“What I meant was- ”

“Nah-uh Shawnie, you said what you said. No backsies dude.” Your smug grin only widened when you heard his loud huff from his chair, but he quickly occupied himself with checking on the boys so you continued to rifle through the chaos that was your kitchen drawer. That was until the Canadian voice broke through the peace once again,

“Hey! Did you seriously ‘dude’ me?”

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes fluff #dad!shawn #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes oneshot #shawn x you #shawn x reader #shawn mendes one shot #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes x you #shawn peter raul mendes

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lonestorm · 5 years ago

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The Inugami - Chapter 15

Summary: When Kagome Higurashi moved to the bad side of Chicago to help with her grandfather’s restaurant, she expected chaos. Being thrown into a fake gang, caught in the middle of a drug war and grudge that stretches centuries back in time, befriending a grumpy half demon along with a ragtag bunch of three other misfits… wasn’t exactly what she had in mind. High school AU. Inukag.

Rating: T (some language)

Pairings: Inukag, Mirsan

Chapters: Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 | Ch. 14 | Ch. 15

**Also on ff.net here and ao3 here.

The Final Chapter! Thank you to my faithful beta, @akela-nakamura!

Kagome’s boots barely echoed softly through the kitchen of the empty restaurant. It had been kept sparkly clean, smelling strongly of bleach, each surface shining and lonely at the same time without food on the countertops. She knew that hours had been reduced until the Higurashis were to return.

She lowered her hood, brushing snow from her arms. She was moving mechanically, as if displaying overly human actions would verify her racing heart and anticipation. For the first time in six months, Kagome was about to see the friends that had brightened her world, and the man she was impossibly in love with.

After countless late nights spent speaking quietly over the phone to him, just about how their days had gone, something funny they’d seen, anything that anyone could talk about, she was finally going to see Inuyasha again, face to face.

He didn’t know that, though. Of all Shippo’s schemes, this surprise was her favorite. Apparently, she was to be Inuyasha’s Christmas present, a role she was all too happy to fill.

The Higurashis had finished moving back to Chicago just yesterday, into a nicer house this time. The rent was surprisingly cheap for such a decent neighborhood (compared to the last, at least.), and Kagome didn’t bother voicing that she was sure the landlord name “Nonemu” was code for “Sesshomaru trying to not look nice.”

She startled at the sound of the bell jingling from the front, her frenzied heartbeat coming to an abrupt halt. And then she heard it in person, his gruff and so, so loveable voice only meters away.

“This had better be good,” grumbled Inuyasha’s voice. Her breath caught. The sound of clomping snowy shoes on the welcome mat. “Comin’ in on one of my only days off…”

“I promise, your Christmas present will be worth it,” Shippo said firmly.

“Why aren’t Sango and Miroku here? Didn’t you get something for them?”

“Of course I did! But this is just for you. They’ll come a bit later, give you some time alone with your present.”

“What? Why would I need- Ugh, Shippo, did you dump five gallons of bleach in the place? I can’t smell a thing!”

Kagome smirked; Shippo had really thought this out.

“Stop whining! You’re about to get the best Christmas present ever.”

“Sounds cocky. I once got a whole sock from my brother.”

“I’ll just assume that’s a ‘Wow, that sounds so thoughtful, Shippo! I don’t even need a present because your friendship is enough of a gift.’ I’ll be back in about twenty minutes.”

“Wh-wha-you’re just leaving me here? You’re just planning on locking me in here, aren’t you?”

“For fuck’s sake. Just… stay here. As one Inugami to another, just trust me.”

“...fine.”

A second jangling of the bell--Shippo had left. Kagome breathed in slowly, steeling herself, shaking out her hands as trying to rid them of water. She paced to the door that led to the dining area. Each step seemed to take too long and not long enough.

Finally, Kagome pushed the door and immediately saw him, standing with lowered ears, hands in his pockets, characteristically annoyed. Affection swelled in her chest, seeing Inuyasha in that red jacket, beat up boots tapping on the cracked tile. It was as if she’d been blocking out how much she cared for him, and the waves how much she’d missed him crashed over her in an instant. But she was frozen, hardly able to breathe until he finally caught sight of her.

His jaw dropped, and a startled sound seemed to stick in his throat. But he wasn’t still like her--he immediately came forward and leapt over the counter. In an instant, he was embracing her, and she had forgotten how warm, safe, smelling like leather and wind and-

“Home,” she murmured into his chest. “I’m home.”

“I love you,” was all he said back. “I love you.”

SIX YEARS LATER

There was a jangle from the front door, and Kagome looked over to see one of their regulars, Joseph, walk in, smiling and pulling a brown-haired boy behind him. The second boy looked skeptical and closed off, scrutinizing every wall and inch of the ceiling. Kagome watched her husband turn and regard the boys, resting his arms on the bokken that laid across his shoulders.

“Oh, a newb!” Shippo whispered to her in excitement. “Oh boy, Inuyasha is gonna do the thing! I love this part.”

Kagome allowed herself a small smile of agreement. She’d seen such a scene many a time before, but it was always inspiring to witness it again. This was the purpose of the Inugami now, after all.

“Hey, Joe,” Inuyasha greeted, giving a nod. “Who’s the kid?”

With mildly hidden enthusiasm, Joseph tugged his friend up behind him. “This is my buddy, Derek. He’s the one I talked to you about last week. I talked about Inugami a bit with him and he was thinkin’ about joining. Ain’t that right, Derek?”

Derek huffed, “Tch,” as he was pushed forward to stand about four feet away from Inuyasha. The boy shoved his hands in his jean pockets, clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes up at the older man.

Inuyasha, in turn, stared down at Derek, golden eyes sharpening and chin raising. Finally, Inuyasha growled, “Don’t gimme that entitled teenage bad boy shit face, kid. If you wanna be Inugami, we’ve got a code to follow. So are you gonna listen up or get out like a loser?”

A pause. The boy seemed startled by Inuyasha’s attitude, but soon realized that Inuyasha was truly waiting for an answer. “Uh… Okay, I’ll… listen,” Derek mumbled back.

“What was that?”

“I’m listening.”

“You’re listening…?” Inuyasha drawled, gaze biting.

“S-sir. I’m listening, sir.”

“Alright.” Inuyasha took the bokken off his shoulders, slamming it to the ground at his side. Derek startled backwards into Joseph, who hid a snicker. “The Inugami have self control. The Inugami do not involve themselves with gangs or gang activity. The Inugami don’t smoke or do that drug shit or even vape. I hate the damn smell and they make you weak. The Inugami don’t drink underage and if they are of age, they don’t drink irresponsibly like a deadbeat. The Inugami go to school and do their damn best in it. The Inugami do not fight unless in defense of self, defense of another, or a controlled spar supervised by an Inugami leader. The Inugami do not steal. The Inugami do not threaten, intimidate, or hurt others. The Inugami respect all humans, demons, and otherwise equally. The Inugami do all they can to help their neighbor. The Inugami keep a cool head and don’t respond to fucking morons that are trying to provoke them-”

Beside her, Shippo coughed in a way that sounded a lot like the name, “Koga?”

“-Inugami don’t whine about shit or think they’re entitled to shit. The Inugami work hard, challenge themselves, and don’t blame other people for their problems. The Inugami accept their cross to bear, their responsibilities, what can and cannot be changed, and their duty to become the best they can be.”

Inuyasha walked up close to the boy, staring down at him with an intense light in his eyes that Kagome had fallen in love with. Derek backed up even further, stumbling, but Joe steadied him. Inuyasha’s bokken was back in its sheath, and his powerful arms were crossed as he went on, “Now, if you think you’re incapable of those simple, moral and reasonable rules, if you just wanna be born as a street rat and die a thug that didn’t leave the world any better than it was when he was popped out of his poor mother’s womb, then you can turn your ass around and get straight back out that door. I ain’t here to give you free shit or coddle you or let you do whatever the fuck you want, whatever feels good.”

Tilting his head, Inuyasha said more quietly, “But if you stay… The Inugami is here to support you in doing shit that does good. The Inugami will have your back, teach you defense, give you a place to go, and make you something to be proud of.”

Inuyasha pulled the bandana off of the handle of his bokken; Kagome knew it was situations like these for which he always kept an extra red bandana around. The red cloth was held out to Derek, who was eyeing it wide-eyed and white-faced.

“So?” Inuyasha said, hand open. “You gonna stay or go?”

Kagome clenched her fists, an excited smile bursting on her face.

Derek stared down at the bandana, back to his friend, and then up to Inuyasha. “I… I’m gonna stay.”

Finally, Inuyasha gave the kid a quick, rare grin. “Good choice. Here.” Derek took the red bandana, gripping it tightly. His friend gave a whoop and clapped him on the shoulder while Inuyasha dug around in his bag for the registration.

“Just a little stupid paperwork, brat,” Inuyasha explained, holding the paper and a pen out to Derek. “Liability shit, and we wanna be able to contact you if you need help. I’ll give you my number, and the other four Inugami heads will probably give you theirs eventually. What are you doin, signin’ that already?! Always read a contract before you sign it, idiot. There ya go…”

By the time Derek was finished registering, the other Inugami had begun to file in, ready in their training clothes and chatting with one another comfortably, about twenty-five of them today. Kagome couldn’t help but smile at all of them, greet a few; these teenagers, all coming in here trying to make their inner-city life better, to improve themselves. These kids were the dreams of all the original Inugami, and it’s why she came every day without regret.

Inuyasha was talking to some of the kids. When he looked over at her, beginning to start her stretches on the bench next to Shippo, his entire body seemed to relax, and he returned a smile. But when he started to make his way over…

“Whoa,” she heard Derek say quietly, not too far away, to Joseph. He was pointing at her. “Who’s the chick? I’d tap that so hard.”

Joe looked panicked and was about to answer, but that’s when Inuyasha hit Derek in the back of the head, causing a resounding SMACK followed by a high, “Ow!”

“She,” Inuyasha snarled, “would me my wife.”

“Shit,” muttered Derek.

“I guess since you haven’t seemed to catch on to the specifics of ‘respect all humans, demons, and otherwise’ and you have a problem with thinking with your dick, I’ll have to add that the Inugami men are not fucking perverts or fuckboys. The Inugami other than me do not even think about daring to touch her in a way any more than a consented hug. Do I make myself clear?”

“Y-yes, sir! Sorry, sir!”

“Don’t apologize to me, boy; apologize to her!”

“R-right.” The boy turned quickly and practically bowed to her. “I-I’m sorry, um…?”

Kagome smiled in amusement. “Mrs. Tashio will do.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Tashio.”

“I forgive you, Derek. Welcome to the Inugami!” She stood and held out her hand, which he shook tentatively. “I’m so happy you’ve joined us. Oh that’s right, I made cookies today! Do you like chocolate chip? You can have some-”

“Kagome,” Inuyasha sighed, looking only minisculely more grumpy than usual. “It’s like you’re rewarding him!”

“I am!” she said with a huff, putting her hands on her hips. “He joined us! He apologized for what he said, so I think he should get a cookie. Besides, I tried this new recipe and I want the kids to say if they like it…”

“You made it. Of course they’ll like it.”

Her heart swelled. “Oh Inuyasha, really? You think so?”

His cheeks were turning about the color of his bandana that was tied around his head. “Keh, you know I think so.”

Kagome gave him a long kiss for that, and then went back to find the cookies in her bag. As soon as she found them, she began passing them around (with intermittent munching on her own part).

She pretended not to hear Derek whisper to Joseph, aghast, “How did such a cranky, terrifying dude end up with an angel?”

“No one knows exactly how it happened, but Papayasha and Magome are super into each other,” Joseph answered with a shrug. “Also, don’t count on the angel thing. I chose to challenge her to a fight one day and it was the worst decision I ever made.”

“...what did she do to you?”

“I don’t remember much, but I remember that I sure as fuck didn’t like it and felt it for the next week.”

“Inugami!” Inuyasha boomed. “Assume the position!”

The students scampered into a circle around Inuyasha, Shippo trailing behind, who began to explain what techniques they would be learning that day. As this process commenced, the charming tone over the door chimed, indicating the entrance of Miroku, Sango, and the twins. Both were dressed in gym clothes and each carried an eager toddler, looking windswept and tired, but both smiled at the sight of Kagome waving to them.

Sango hadn’t changed much in six years; despite having two children already, she kept up with her training well, especially now that they had two extra giggling girls that liked to ride on their parents’ backs during push ups. Miroku had cut his hair to keep the babies from tugging on it incessantly (he’d insisted for months that he’d felt some spiritual energy leave him as it was cut and therefore he was the reincarnation of Samson), so that he looked far more mature than he actually was.

Kagome greeted them both with a hug and lifted the most wiggly kid from Sango. “Hi guys! So glad you could make it on such short notice!”

“Ah, we wrapped up the latest case this morning anyway,” said Miroku, setting down his daughter so that she could join in on tackling Shippo. “First case in nearly a year where Sesshomaru hasn’t poked his nose into our P.I. business--not our fault people around here don’t trust the cops and we make major bank.” Miroku rolled his shoulders, stretching out the gun holsters that decorated his sides on straps. He shot a winning smile. “Just surprised we have a short notice call that wasn’t: Help, Inuyasha got poisoned, or help, Kagome was kidnapped, or help, Inuyasha got tackled by a furry convention and is now setting them on fire-”

Sango jumped in before Kagome could stop them, “Help, Kagome put a force field around the pie until I apologize, or help, Inuyasha is out of the dorm room because we were canoodling too long in the library make out corner, or help, Kagome heard me sleep arguing with the drapes and now thinks I have a secret Japanese lover-”

“Yes, okay, noted that we need to call you guys under better circumstances,” Kagome covered hastily. “But this is a great circumstance, I promise!” She stuffed another cookie in her mouth, eyes gleaming. “Cookieh?”

They took a cookie.

Another chime of the door, and Emma came skipping in, her stoic father gliding behind her. Sesshomaru looked emotionless and statuesque as ever in his full Commander’s uniform, an image of intimidation marred only by the flower crown perched atop his silvery hair. Judging from Emma’s matching set, it was of her creation and insistence. All the teenagers glanced at him or even flinched as he came in, indicating that the cuteness did not, in fact, ruin his effect. Kagome was impressed.

Sesshomaru beelined for Kagome as soon as his icy gaze found her, and he stopped abruptly several feet away. “What is the urgent matter of which I must attend? Emma and I were on our way to the park. I would prefer if this afternoon activity were not interrupted by my brother’s next grievance.”

Kagome laughed him off. “Oh no, no grievance. Just something we wanted you to be here for and then you can be on your way!”

A half millimeter quirk of the eyebrow. “Why.”

With a nervous laugh, Kagome scurried closer to the circle of students and waved a hand over their heads for Inuyasha’s attention. Best not to trust dog demons to be patient, she’d found.

His white ears perked up, and he stopped in the middle of demonstrating a new headlock on Derek. “Everyone here?”

“Yep!”

He released the teenager to his half laughing, half pitying peers, and pushed through to her. “Before I get on with the lesson, Kagome and I have an announcement that we wanted you all to be here for.” He put an arm around her, “It regards why she won��t be helping with any sparring from now on.”

The collective “aww” that arose from the kids actually touched Kagome, though she ignored Joseph’s not-so-subtle, “Thank God.”

Inuyasha looked to her with those shining, golden eyes, prompting her to say, “‘Papayasha’ is gonna be an actual Papa.”

The gasps and happy shrieks almost covered Inuaysha’s groan of, “Why are you encouraging them to call me-?”

Sango grabbed her shoulders. “You’re pregnant?!”

“Yup.” Kagome patted her tummy. “Can’t fight any of you--Magome’s got one in the ol’ incubator.”

Sesshomaru was grimacing. “I feared this day. The day in which an army of small Inuyashas are born. I surrender. You can keep the sword. I recognize when I am outnumbered.”

Shippo was in full on tears, clutching his face. “Tiny Inubabies with puppy ears and without Inuyasha’s horrible personality… adorable!”

Miroku only shrugged. “I’m honestly just surprised it took this long. You guys are like Catholic rabbits.”

Sango smacked him, but Kagome was too busy laughing. Surrounded by love and her growing family, she felt so far from that scared, weak girl she had been all those years ago, who felt so far from home. Home was something she created, right here, with her Inuyasha, and with the Inugami.

#yaaaaaay i finished!#waaaaaay late #here's for your quarantine yall #my writing #the inugami #inuyasha #inuyasha fanfiction #kagome #inukag #inukag fanfiction #miroku #sango #mirsan #mirsan fanfiction #shippo #sesshomaru

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talesfromthesnogbox · 5 years ago

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Richie Tozier and the Birth of His Child

Summary: Richie and his fiance Eddie rush to get to the hospital because their very good friend, and surrogate mother, Beverly, is in labour, and Oh my god it's happening quickly!

Rating: T (for language and mentions of medical procedures)

Word Count: 4235

Notes: Is this a repost of my own work? Yes. Do I care? No :)

Alright guys, so this is totally self-indulgent, and it basically goes like "Crying Richie and Eddie doing skin to skin with their newborn baby." So here it is. Please note, I know barely anything about pregnancy or birth or surrogacy so I guessed a lot and nothing is accurate, but does anyone really care?

aO3

***

Richie Tozier and the Birth of His Child

Eddie was a light sleeper. He had no problem waking up when Richie got home from late night gigs, and he was always up within the first chime of his alarm in the morning. But recently, Eddie had taken to sleeping like a baby.

A sharp ring pulled him out of his gentle slumber. He’d been having a pleasant dream, one he was annoyed to be woken up from by what was probably a wrong number. Eddie grumbled looking at his phone, startled by how bright it was momentarily, but soon his annoyance turned to panic.

10 Missed Calls from Ben Hanscom

“Shit…” Eddie mumbled, quickly calling him back. “Dude—”

“Eddie I’ e been calling you for an hour, what the fuck man?”

“Sorry, I’m sorry, I just… I fell asleep.”

“Richie isn’t picking up either, is he with you?”

Eddie sat up in bed, Richie’s side still empty. “No man, he’s doing some radio show thing tonight, he probably doesn’t have his phone on him. Is everything okay?”

“No… not really. I mean yes, everything’s fine technically, but… but Bev…”

“Shit, what happened, is she okay? How’s her vitals?”

“No, no, nothing bad, it’s just… Eddie, it’s go time.”

“Alright listeners, it’s almost time for Richie Trashmouth Tozier to sign off for the night. We’ve got time for one last call.”

Richie drummed his fingers on the table, adjusting his headphones.

“And it sounds like we’ve got Eddie calling in from Newport Beach.” Rocky, the host shot Richie a look, eyebrows raised. “Eddie, what’s your question for Trashmouth?”

“Hey Rich—”

“Is that Eddie Spaghetti I hear? Hey man, what’s up?” A smile overtook Richie’s face quickly at the sound of his fiancé. He was out publicly now, but he hadn’t quite introduced Eddie to the world. They’d talked about it, but Richie was hesitant to drag Eddie out and open into his world.

“Ben’s been trying to get a hold of yo—a hold of us.”

“Ben? What’s handsome Hanscom want with us?” Richie’s heart was racing.

“It’s Bev… babe, it’s go time.”

“Go time? It’s… oh my god it’s time? I didn’t think that was supposed to happen for another few weeks?”

“Her water just broke, they got to the hospital half an hour ago.” The room was silent for a moment. “Rich, this is happening now!”

Richie’s heart still pounded, but his nerves were hidden behind the giant giddy smile he sported.

“Oh my god Eds, it’s happening. I—I’ve just gotta sign off, but I’ll meet you at the hospital in 20?”

“Yeah. I’ve got the bags, I’ll meet you there.”

“I love you, drive safe.” Richie slipped out, missing the obvious shock on Rocky’s face.

“I love you too babe, I’ll see you soon.”

Richie’s expression was half nervous, half ecstatic.

“Well, well, well, Richie, I think before you actually sign off, you have some explaining to do.” Rocky smiled and looked towards Richie knowingly.

He chuckled nervously, a blush rising in his cheeks. “Umm, yeah. Th-that was Eddie. He’s a friend from back home that moved out here because we’re… well, he’s my um… he’s my fiancé.”

“Trashmouth Tozier is gonna be tying the knot? Good for you man, that’s incredible!” Rocky clapped Richie on the back.

“Thanks Rocky, means a lot. But um, I really do have to sign off. Our good friend Bev is in labour, and um… well… we’re gonna be dads!”

“Woah! Dude, what are you still doing here? Go get your man! But you should come back and tell us all about Eddie and all about fatherhood when you’ve settled in a bit. We’d all love to hear how it’s going.”

“Yeah, for sure! Well, thanks for having me on the show Rocky, I’m gonna go have a baby now.”

Rocky chuckled. “You heard it here first folks, Richie Tozier is ditching the Trashmouth to be a daddy.”

Richie ran into the hospital waiting room and immediately stormed the nurses’ station. “Hi, I’m Ri—”

“Richie!” Eddie ran in moments after him, arms full with an overnight bag, nursing pillow, diaper bag and a bouquet for Bev.

“Hey babe, let me grab that.” He took the pillow and diaper bag from his fiancé’s hands and kissed him lightly.

“You both must be here for Beverly. She’s down the hall in 407.”

“Thank you!” Richie called after the nurse as Eddie pulled him towards the room.

They quickly find room 407, and enter to find Bev moaning, gripping Ben tightly as he stroked her hair back and whispered sweet words in her ear. The two stopped dead in the doorway, watching as their friend rode out the contraction.

“Finally, you guys made it.” Ben said as the pained look on Bev’s face melted into a smile with the end of her contraction.

“Fuck both of you, I hope you’re happy with one kid, cause I’m done after this.” Bev hugged both Eddie and Richie, careful that he IV drip didn’t tangle.

“When do they give you the juice?”

“Yeah, you’ve got to be far enough along for the epidural by now.” Eddie walked around to check Bev’s charts, having no clue what any of it actually meant.

“That’s the problem, she’s too far along for a full epidural. They gave her a little something for the pain, but they think it’ll be over before the full thing even takes.”

“Shit, how far along are you?” Richie took Bev’s hand and sat on the edge of her bed.

“Seven and a half centimeters. It all moved way faster than I thought it would.” Beverly rubbed her belly lovingly.

Richie smiled and pressed a kiss to her head. “I’m gonna go grab a coffee, could be a long night.”

His mind wandered as he looked for the cafeteria, back to that first conversation all those years ago.

July 1993

“I always wondered what it would be like to be pregnant.” Bev pulled her shirt up a little and rubbed her flat tummy. “Bill wants kids… but I don’t think I want them.” She said taking the joint from Richie. The two of them had gotten rather close since she’d started really dating Bill, close in a way that neither of them had ever been with anyone else.

“I think I want kids. My mom is always going on about how good I am with my baby cousin, and the neighbor’s kids love me.”

Beverly giggled. “Well I’m sure you’ll find a nice girl to settle down and procreate with.” Richie’s smile faltered. “What?”

“N-nothing.” He took the joint back and took a long drag from it. “I-it’s just…” He felt Bev’s hand lovingly stroking his back, calming his shuddering breath. “I know I’m a math nerd not a science nerd, but I’m pretty sure you can’t get a dude pregnant.” His cheeks went red as the silence between them increased. “Bev, I’m gay.”

Richie closed his eyes as he felt Bev’s arms wrap around him. “Rich, you can still have kids if you’re gay.”

He looked to his friend, tears shining in his eyes. “You think?”

“Of course.” She bumped him with her shoulder. “I just said I wanted to be pregnant but not a mother. You can turkey baste me if you want, I’ll have your kids.”

Richie smiled and kissed her cheek. “I love you Bev.”

“Love you too, Trashmouth.” She rested her head on his shoulder. “So… would I be wrong to say you have a crush on Eddie then?”

His cheeks heat up. “Don’t wanna talk about it Ringwald.”

When Richie arrived back at the room, Eddie was waiting outside. “The OB/GYN is in with Bev now, wanted to give them some privacy.”

Richie nodded, pulling Eddie into his side. “You ready for this, spaghetti?”

“Y-yeah.”

Richie’s head spun quickly to stare at his husband to be skeptically. Eddie’s eyes were trained on the ground. “You didn’t even fight me on the name. What’s wrong Eds? Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet.”

“No! No, I’m excited, but… what if I’m not a good dad? What if I can’t give her what she needs? What if I turn out to be just like my mother?”

“Eddie, that’s not gonna happen.”

“But what if it does?”

“It won’t, trust me. You’ll always have your feisty little teenage self, fighting for her on the inside. While your mom was a great lover, she was a real asshole, and I know you remember how shitty that was.”

“Fuck you, the wedding’s off.” Eddie flipped him off, but with a smile.

Richie kissed his cheek tenderly. “I love you too.”

November 2002

“I can’t go home. I don’t think I can face her.”

“Eds, chill out. So what, your mom knows you and Myra broke up, not a big deal.” Richie and Eddie had started renting a spacious 2 bedroom apartment in Brooklyn just a few months earlier.

“But what if she told my mom the reason why we broke up?”

“Long distance? Eds, a lot of people break up because they can’t handle distance. You got a job in New York, she didn’t want to move down here. That’s not something you’ll get criticized for at Thanksgiving dinner.”

“We didn’t break up because of distance you fuckwit, we broke up because I’m gay.”

Richie’s words died on his tongue. “Wait… what?” Eddie slumped onto the couch with his head in his hands. “Eddie, are you serious?”

Eddie nodded. He just wanted to curl in a ball and die, not have this conversation.

“Hey man, it’s okay, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Easy for you to say, your parents threw a fucking party for you when you came out. My mother’s going to disown me.”

“Would that really be such a bad thing?” Eddie looked up and shot Richie a look of fury. “Okay, okay, sorry, that was in bad taste. Look Eds, your mom is an asshole, you don’t need her.”

“But she’s the only family I’ve got.”

“Eddie, you know that’s not true. You’ve got the Losers, and you know Maggie and Went love you. And… and you’ve got me.”

“Thanks Rich.”

“I’m serious Eds, I’ll always be here. You don’t need her if she won’t accept who you are.”

“I love you Richie.”

Richie smiled and pulled Eddie in close. “I love you too Eds.”

“No, Richie…” He pulled away so he could look at him properly. “I love you.”

Bev’s contractions slowed to a halt, and Richie was grateful for his coffee break as he looked over Ben and Eddie’s sleeping forms.

“Can you believe this is happening?” Bev asked Richie, lacing her fingers with his.

“It’s kinda surreal to tell you the truth. I was thinking about when I came out to you all those years ago, and if you would have told me then what we’re living through right now, I would have laughed in your face.”

She smiled. “I was so head over heels for Bill, I can’t believe I never even looked at Ben.”

“Dude you hit the jackpot. Who knew Ben would be the hot one, I always thought it would be me.” Beverly giggled as she chewed on her bits of ice. “I… Bev, you know I love Ben and all, but is he… god, is he okay with all this?”

1 Year Earlier

Richie’s jaw dropped. “Bev… you don’t…”

Tears sprung to her eyes. “Sweetie, I know I don’t have to, but you want a baby, and I want to help you two.”

Richie and Eddie had just announced their engagement a few months prior, and had dropped on their friends that they’d started looking into adoption. Beverly couldn’t help but think back to the conversation they’d had all those years earlier.

“But… but what about you two. I-I can’t help but feel like we’re taking something away from you.”

“We’ve spent a lot of time talking about this. We decided years ago that we don’t want a family, and we’re very much at peace with that.” Ben put his arm around Bev and continued. “Richie, I know how close you and Beverly are, and when she brought up that she wanted to do this, I knew that this was the right thing to do.”

“Only if you want to. Think it over; I’d be honored to carry your child, but only if you’re both comfortable with it.”

“He’s more than okay with it Richie. Trust me, he’s really excited for you. I’m really excited for you.” He knew she was telling him the truth. Bev and Ben went crazy helping Richie and Eddie set up a nursery, baby-proofing their house, buying toys and outfits for their new arrival.

“You’re just excited you won’t have to change diapers.”

She giggled. “Shut up.” Her heart monitor sped up as she felt another contraction come on. “Oh fuck, fuck here it is again.”

Richie clammed up, but took her hand like he saw Ben do before, rubbing her shoulder lightly with his free hand. “You got this girl. You’re doing great Ringwald, I love you.”

Beverly giggled, coming away from her contraction, letting her grip on Richie’s hand loosen.

“Ahh, I see daddy finally made it.” Dr. Burke, Bev’s OB/GYN came in with a myriad of supplies.

“Yeah, both of them are here this time! The other one’s passed out unfortunately.” Richie gestured towards Eddie.

“That’s okay. Figured we’d need some of this stuff in another little bit.” The chipper woman smoothed her lab coat after placing some blankets in a hospital-grade bassinette. “Just came to take a little looksee at how mom’s doing.”

Richie sat up beside Bev again, anxiously awaiting Dr. Burke’s verdict.

“Well, all is looking pretty good. You’re just at 10 centimeters; you’ll probably feel ready to push any minute now.”

A shiver ran through Richie. They were so close to holding their baby in their arms. Eddie stirred from where he was asleep in his chair. “Eds, I’m gonna go call my parents real quick, I’ll be right back.”

He nodded, and Richie ducked out of the room.

It only took two rings for Richie’s mom to pick up. “Hey sweetie, is everything okay? It must be what, five in the morning down where you are?”

“Yeah, I know it’s early. I just—Bev’s in labour.”

Maggie gasped, and Richie could hear a muffled “what?” in the background from his father.

“Oh my goodness! How far along is she? Never mind, we’ve got everything packed, we’ll be on the next flight out to California.”

“Rich!” He turned around to see Eddie’s panicked face peering through the doorway. “They’re gonna have her start pushing soon, Bev wants you with her.”

Maggie gasped through the phone again. “Is that Eds? Give him my love, tell him I’ll see him this afternoon. Richie, I’d better let you go, if she’s pushing soon, then it won’t be long now. I’ll call you when we land. We’ll come straight to the hospital.”

Richie chuckled. “Okay, love you mom. Got any last minute tips?”

“No matter how many times the doctor says it, don’t look between her legs. You’ll never look at a vagina the same again.” Richie’s dad pipes up.

“Well it’s a good think I don’t make a habit of looking at vaginas anyways dad, but thanks, I’ll refrain from staring at my best friend pushing my child out of her bits. Love you guys, I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Richie rushed back into the delivery room and took his place beside Bev again.

“How’s grandma and grandpa Tozier?”

“Oh you know, giving me advice that I really didn’t need.” He laughed and patted her hand.

“Went warned you not to look down there, didn’t he.”

“Yup, that’s exactly what he did.”

Bev giggled and laced her fingers with Ben’s.

“Jesus Marsh, never thought I’d see a woman in labour so happy.”

Eddie chimed in, joining Richie at her side. “Drugs finally kicked in, I think she’s a little loopy.”

“Hey, I’m about to push a watermelon out of my body, I think I’m allowed to be a bit loopy.” She huffed out with some difficulty, adjusting her position. “Shit, it’s definitely time.”

Suddenly, it was like the room sprung to action. Dr. Burke’s playful demeanor became slightly more serious as she and the nurses helped prop Bev up into a more comfortable position. Richie was handed a foot, Ben was handed the other, and Eddie took his spot near her head, a damp cloth in hand.

It was all a blur if Richie was being honest. A lot of yelling: words of encouragement from Dr. Burke, sweet nothings from Ben, shouts of effort and pain from Bev. And then suddenly, “Alright, here comes the head!”

Richie’s own curiosity got the better of him, and against his dad’s advice, he looked.

And promptly fainted.

“Richie!” Both Eddie and Bev screamed as they watched him go down. A nurse joined Eddie on the floor, cold towel in hand, helping him up as he was revived.

“Dude, what the fuck!” Eddie felt Richie’s neck, looking for a pulse as he blinked against the bright lights. His face was filled with worry and annoyance, but his tone had no bite to it.

“Why am I on the floor?”

“You’re okay, we see a lot of fathers fainting in the delivery room, nothing we haven’t already dealt with.” The nurse chuckled as she helped Richie up and into a chair, handing him a juice box.

He quickly chugged the juice and motioned to stand back up, but the nurse pushed him down. “It’s probably best you stay seated, just for a few more minutes.”

“B-but, the baby, Bev…”

“Don’t worry, you won’t miss much. The last baby I delivered, mom pushed for a full hour.”

“Jesus.” Richie sat back and swiped a hand over his face, tearing up. “Bev you’re a fucking superstar.”

“Love you too Rich, but I’ll love you more when I get this kid out of me.”

He chuckled, lacing his shaking fingers with Eddie’s.

“Babe, you okay? You went down pretty hard.” Eddie carded his fingers through Richie’s hair with his free hand.

“Don’t I always go down pretty hard?”

“I fucking hate you.” Eddie kissed the crown of his head. “I’m serious, how are you feeling? Do you feel light headed? Do you need something to eat? Does your head hurt?”

“I’m okay. I just saw something that no human being should ever have to see. I think I became more of a feminist today, fuck.” Eddie chuckled. “Dr. Burke, top marks to you and your iron stomach.”

She giggled and gave him a thumbs up.

Eddie took Richie’s spot, taking Bev’s foot in hand, while Richie scooted forward in his chair to take her hand.

It seemed to go on forever, each minute stretched out longer than they’d ever experienced, but before long, a gentle cry was heard from the end of the table.

Bev’s face melted, a cry of relief left her lips as she slumped back against the bed. Richie wanted to support his friend, but couldn’t help but look towards the small screaming human in Dr. Burke’s arms. Once he laid eyes on her, he couldn’t tear them away.

His eyes misted over, and he couldn’t even bother to move his glasses away from his face to wipe them.

“She’s beautiful.” He heard Eddie sigh beside him, his voice sounding watery.

“Would you like to cut the cord?” A nurse pointed a pair of scissors towards the two of them, and Eddie nodded, taking them in hand. Richie’s hands shook as one of his covered both of Eddie’s, and the cord was cut.

Eddie pulled Richie into a tight hug as their daughter was brought away to get cleaned up. “I can’t believe she’s here.”

The nurse hesitated between the two couples before heading over to Eddie and Richie. Richie stepped aside so Eddie could take their daughter first, his hands still shaking ever so slightly.

“Richie, why don’t you pop your shirt off?” Dr. Burke approached him.

“Why doc, you trying to get a piece of this?” The joke was weak, but she laughed anyways.

“Skin to skin contact Richie, so you can properly bond with her.”

“Right, we talked about this at one of Bev’s appointments.” He nodded, pulling his t-shirt over his head. “The tossing a baseball around and letting her eat ice cream for dinner when Papa’s not around doesn’t come till later. See, I remember shit.”

She and Eddie giggled as Eddie passed their baby over to Richie. She was warm in his arms, her small breaths hitting his chest, rustling the tufts of hair there, and she was so, so tiny. For the millionth time that day, Richie was crying.

“Hi there, I’m your daddy. Holy shit you’re so tiny!” His hand covered most of her little back, it was nothing for him to rub the soft, pink skin, worried his rough fingers would hurt her.

Bev was giggling through her tears, and ben snapped photos of the tender moment. “Do you guys have a name for her?”

Eddie nodded. “We talked about it a lot, shockingly the one thing we actually easily agreed on.” Ben thought back to their fight about the nursery colour and chuckled. “We decided on Margaret Hannah Tozier. Maggie for short, after Richie’s mom, and Hannah because it kind of sounded like Hanscom… we wanted as much Marsh and Hanscom in her name as we could.” His voice cracked, seeing Ben tear up. “Ben, I know she’s not yours, but—”

Ben rushed forwards to hug him, cutting Eddie’s speech off. “Thanks man, that means a lot.”

“It’s beautiful.” Bev said as the nurses attended to her.

“We—we were actually hoping you guys would be her godparents.” Eddie asked them meekly.

“Of course, we’d be honored.”

Eventually, the nurses had to take Maggie away from Richie to take her measurements, but he’d made them promise to bring her right back. They all watched as Bev nursed her, whispering sweetly and pushing her beautiful dark hair back.

“Shit, can you believe this?” Eddie sat down beside his fiancé and took his hand. “Who would have thought out of everyone in the Losers club, us and Stan would have babies first?”

“I mean, Stan will always be the most responsible Loser. Even as teenagers I could have told you he’d be the first one to knock someone up on purpose.”

“What do you mean knock someone up on purpose, like plan for a child?” All four of them turned around to see Stan standing in the doorway, gift bag and flowers in hand. “Hey guys!”

“Hey, it’s Stan the Man!” Richie stood up and hugged his first friend, getting choked up at the sight of the little pink bag.

“This is for you guys, well more for the little lady, but she’s stuck relying on you two assholes until she can fend for herself.”

Eddie chuckled, carefully taking the tissue paper out of the bag and showing Richie the adorable little onesie in there.

“Patty knit her some stuff in there too. She’s been knitting sweaters for Sam like crazy, he’s growing like a weed, but I guess that’s what happens when you’re a year and a half old.”

“Aww, thanks dude, this is great.” Eddie clapped him on the back. “You’re officially our first visitor.”

“I knew I would be.”

The group laughed, unfortunately waking Maggie from where she’d fallen asleep against Bev.

“Hold on, I’ve got this great little trick, watch.” Richie stood and whipped off his t-shirt, careening towards the bed.

“Dude, I don’t know what your trick is, but I’m not so sure I want to see it.” Stan said, a smile overtaking his face.

Richie took Maggie in his arms, opening her tight swaddle and put her up to his chest. The feeling of his skin on hers immediately calmed her down.

“Shit, not even Sam was that responsive to skin to skin.”

“Yeah, it’s shocking, but he’s got a gift.” Eddie came up beside Richie and adjusted Maggie’s little hat. “She’s really taken with her daddy.” He stroked her little cheek with his finger, watching her fall asleep against Richie’s chest. Eddie’s eyes were drawn upwards at the sound of a loud sniff from his fiancé. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Richie shook his head, letting his tears fall.

Ben chuckled. “As you can see, Richie just has a lot of feelings.”

“Hey man, it’s been a long day. Trust me, I’ve been there.” Stan smiled, taking a seat beside Bev. “Good to see Richie’s still the emotional one.”

“Dude, let me take her, go blow your nose. You’re gonna get snot all over her.”

“Aaaand Eddie’s still neurotic.” Stan chuckled, shaking his head.

“Fuck man, you’re such a good dad.” Richie handed Maggie over to Eddie and ran to grab a tissue. “I love you so much, I can’t wait to marry you.”

“Can’t wait either dipshit.” Eddie turned to his friends as Richie left for the bathroom. “Oh my god, he’s gonna cry at her kindergarten graduation, isn’t he?”

Stan clapped him on the back. “Couple more months and he’s yours forever.”

“Fuck me.” He replied, sending his friends into a fit of laughter. Truth be told, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

***

Cool, well thanks for sticking around for this complete and utter disaster. Drop a comment or a message or whatever if you liked it, I’d love to hear your thoughts!

Just to clear a few things up, in my head, Richie was the "donor" because Eddie didn't want to pass on any potential illnesses.

I was also gonna add a line about Ben setting up Maggie and Sam in the future, but it didn't really fit anywhere, BUT it's a cute thought and also Stan and Richie being reluctant fathers of the groom/bride because that would mean they were actual family would kind of be hilarious? Anyways I'm kind of into that idea so stay tuned for a sequel? Drop a comment maybe and tell me if you'd want that?

#reddie #reddie fic #richie x eddie #it fix it fic #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrack #beverly marsh #ben hanscom #my writing

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serenlyss · 6 years ago

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Mob Psycho Fic Recs

I've been keeping track of some of my favorite finished and in-progress mp100 fics as I find them and figured I'd show them some love by linking them here! They come in no particular order or genre, just whichever I bookmarked last haha. If you"re looking for good mp100 fics be sure to check these out!

To Strike A Chord Author: Hino Rating: Teen Archive Warnings: None Completion Status: Complete Tags: platonic ritshou, mutual trauma, post world domination arc Summary: Ritsu visits Shou, feeling uneasy about his past. But he's not the only one. My Notes: Short and sweet, it touches on Shou and Ritsu’s mutual trauma from the World Domination arc and gives insight in the Suzuki family relationship before Touichirou decided to take over the world. Also Shou plays the guitar.

Of Cold Hands Reaching Author: UncannyCookie Rating: G Archive Warnings: None Completion Status: Complete Tags: terumob (can be read as platonic), angst, ptsd, trauma recovery, hurt/comfort, dissociation, miscommunication, post-mogami arc, slow burn Summary: After six months in Mogami's mind world that weren't even real anyway, Mob returns to his old life. Everything is fine. My Notes: A really interesting take on what Mob’s mind looks like after spending six months in Mogami’s fake world. It gets pretty real when discussing Mob’s dissociation and apathy about the whole thing but gets sweet at the end and has a happy ending. It’s introspective, which I really like, but has enough lighter moments in between that it doesn’t feel heavy constantly.

Delirium Author: Janekfan Rating: G Archive Warnings: None Completion Status: Complete Tags: serirei, pneumonia, hospitalization, guilt, smoking, depression, sel-harm, panic attacks, fever, sickfic, love, kissing, caretaking, misunderstandings, mental instability, flashbacks, unconsciousness Summary: Reigen questions himself. My Notes: Reigen decides to pick up smoking again as a coping mechanism and hides it from Serizawa. It goes into Reigen’s feelings of self-loathing and depressive tendencies that the manga only really touches on. It’s dreary pretty much throughout but does have a happy ending to end on a high note!

April Fools Author: SparkyFrootloops Rating: G Archive Warnings: None Completion Status: Complete Tags: dad reigen, good parent reigen, teru is reigen’s son, hijinks & shenanigans, pranks Summary: Teruki gets to celebrate April Fools Day at his new home with Reigen. My Notes: This fic is short but so so funny and full of heart. Teru trying to prank Reigen, who he lives with in the context of the story, is hilarious and all the dialogue is just gold. I also really love Mob’s cameo in the second half. Just a solid found family comedy one-shot to lighten your mood and make you smile.

Broken, Repaired, New Author: GalacticConfectionist Rating: T Archive Warnings: None Completion Status: In Progress Tags: serirei, abuse, child abuse, domestic violence (all abuse is only implied/referenced, never shown), light angst, hurt/comfort, pining, good parent reigen, good brother reigen, original character but she’s really good Summary: “You’re a good kid” He said, ruffling his student’s hair. There’s a moment of quiet and Reigen sighs, “Mob, remember this. Guys who hit women are the biggest losers in the world.” Reigen’s sister comes to visit, shenanigans ensue. My Notes: I don’t usually go for fics with ocs in them since I don’t typically end up connecting with them but this is one of the rare exceptions! Reigen’s sister escapes her abusive husband with her daughter and goes to Reigen for help. She ends up staying with Serizawa and trying to set him up with her brother. Despite the references to abuse it’s actually a very lighthearted fic about wanting to make your friends happy and taking care of those you consider to be family. Misaki and Reigen’s sibling relationship is well-written and she has enough personality and motivation to make me invested in her situation. Just an all-around good read if you want to smile and feel happy.

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! lol Author: marnies Rating: Not Rated Archive Warnings: None Completion Status: In Progress Tags: serirei, good parent reigen, good parent serizawa, sickfic, fluff, epic family moments Summary: reigen and serizawa adopt teru and shou and move in together asmr My Notes: This fic is just a good time. It’s not too far in but still has enough content to be worth a read. It doesn’t take itself too seriously, but that’s the charm of it, and it comes across as humorous and lighthearted with its found family dynamics. Reigen and Serizawa are both clueless parents of their adopted sick kids and are just trying to help each other out.

The Space Between Author: sofia-estrella Rating: M (nsfw content in later chapters) Archive Warnings: None Completion Status: In Progress Tags: serirei, reigen pov, slow burn, coworkers to friends to lovers Summary: Reigen never expected Serizawa to stay. My Notes: A really nice fic about how Reigen and Serizawa’s relationship grows and evolves slowly as they spend more than a year together over the course of the narrative. Both Reigen and Serizawa are very in character and their relationship is approached with care and concern from both sides, which I think is very fitting for them! It does a good job of balancing soft character interaction with personal squabbles and drama, which makes for an interesting and entertaining read.

The Joy of Cooking (for a Family You Didn’t Know You Had) Author: pepperfield Rating: G Archive Warnings: None Completion Status: In Progress Tags: good parent reigen, background serirei, found family, unintentional parenthood, cooking, meddling kids, family fluff, food as a metaphor for love, getting together, light pining, 5+1 Summary: At first, it's easy. Mob likes takoyaki. This, Reigen can remember. When Teru moves in, things get a little more complex, but it's fine. He only has to feed one kid on a regular basis; he can handle this. But before he knows it, he's memorized all of Tome's favorite restaurants and he's keeping a stash of snacks in the office just in case Shou visits. This whole "family" business has gotten out of hand. My Notes: Good old dad Reigen taking care of his five unruly children. In this fic Teru lives with Reigen and everyone else is just along for the collective ride. It’s a 5+1 fic about Reigen cooking/buying food for the kids as a way to show he cares about them. It’s really cute and shows how much Reigen cares about the esper boys and Tome after all is said and done in the manga.

On Revelations and Renovations Author: mustdang100 Rating: G Archive Warnings: None Completion Status: In Progress Tags: good parent reigen, reigen adopts teru, background serirei, hurt/comfort, adoption, fluff and humor, 5+1 Summary: “I’m really sorry to bother you, but, ah, I don’t suppose that offer to stay at your place for the night was still an option?” Five times Reigen got called a 'dad,' and one time he called himself one - a vignette-style fic on how Teruki grows up and Reigen acquires a family in the days, months, and years following the World Domination arc. My Notes: Teru decides to stay with Reigen after all following the world domination arc, and then never leaves. It’s a super cute and fun fic about found family dynamics between all the main cast, but specifically Reigen and Teru. Teru and Reigen’s banter is well-written and funny, and the whole concept and execution is really charming and fun to ready.

A Real (Psychic) Conman Author: Trinz Rating: T Archive Warnings: None Completion Status: In Progress Tags: esper!reigen, empath!reigen, swearing, reigen centric Summary: An AU where Reigen actually is the 21st century's greatest psychic- or at least the second, or third, or maybe fourth- the point is that he’s an esper and his "I'm so powerful I can hide my aura" thing is... actually true. My Notes: This is one of my current favorite fics. I read it all over the course of like two days up to its current chapter and I’m in love with the author’s psychic Reigen concept. It follows the canon storyline with some divergence to account for Reigen actually having powers, and really paints him in a different light. It also has an air of mystery with its over-arching plot that, seventeen chapters in, still has only been hinted at, but the real star of the fic is the way a psychically powered Reigen interacts with Mob, Ritsu, and Dimple and the creative ways the author incorporates his powers of telepathy and empathy. Really creative and a super fun long read if you want a longer story!

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hanscom · 5 years ago

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meet me at the moon [rated: T]

Summary: The Losers get married, to the best of their ability.

Written for the @poly-losers-club Fic Exchange, but mostly for @poetromantics.

Beverly was admitted to the hospital on a Monday.

It was nothing serious. No, really. Three stitches, max. But Eddie got freaked out by all the blood gushing from the gash on her forehead and insisted on driving her to the ER, full-speed. The others followed at a more reasonable pace, but eventually the calm afternoon waiting room was full of life: six grown men hovering around her, visibly stressed in a variety of ways, from Eddie pacing the room in fast, flurried strides to Richie sprawling across a whole row of seats and complaining loudly about whoever it was that banned smoking indoors. It was enough to give Beverly a headache. But that also might have been the head wound.

It took half an hour for her to be called back. The bleeding had stopped by then, but it had crusted around her shirt collar and itched like crazy. She just wanted to go home and change, but Stan was already guiding her out of her seat and towards the waiting nurse. The nurse didn’t comment on Stan’s presence — probably because Stan just looked so no-nonsense, all intense eyes and heavy frown — but she paused when the others rushed to join them.

“I’m sorry,” she said, sounding uncertain. “Only family is allowed in the room.”

“I’m her brother,” Richie announced instantly.

“Yeah,” Bill chimed in without hesitation. “Me, too.”

“So am I,” Eddie said, but he didn’t sound too sure about it. He’d never been a great liar.

Mike elbowed him and said, “I am, too.”

“He’s adopted,” Richie was quick to add.

“We all are,” Bill agreed.

“Except Ben,” said Mike.

Ben looked startled by the sound of his own name, but he recovered fast. He’d gotten good at playing along with Richie’s schemes over the years. “I’m her husband,” he said. As if to prove it, he moved to Beverly’s free side and looped an arm around her. The way she leaned into him was not entirely for show.

“We’re family,” Stan told the nurse. His strong voice left no room for argument.

The nurse wavered.

Richie pulled himself up to his full height and looked down at her. He didn’t look nearly as intimidating as he probably thought he did. “Listen, lady. You can either let me into that room, or you can leave me here to make a scene. Your call.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide. He put a hand on Richie’s arm as if to settle him. “Please don’t get him started,” he whispered urgently to the nurse.

The nurse looked across the room and made eye contact with the receptionist, who had been watching the entire scene with interest. She shrugged and popped her gum. The nurse seemed to take this as permission. She sighed, straighten her clipboard, and led their entourage through the heavy doors and down a blindingly white hallway. She settled Beverly into a hospital bed, took her vitals, and assured them the doctor would see them soon. She didn’t seem happy about it, exactly, but she did smile when Ben thanked her, so Beverly didn’t work up the energy to feel bad.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Riche threw himself onto the doctor’s stool with a groan. “I hate hospitals,” he announced.

“You didn’t have to come,” Bev pointed out. “I’m fine.”

Richie glared at her. “You have a gaping head wound,” he said. “I can practically see your brain matter.” Eddie gagged, then punched Richie’s arm in retaliation. Richie, unrepentant, went on. “Besides, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I stayed home watching Netflix while you withered away in a hospital bed?”

Stan shushed him sharply and looked around, as if they might have missed some stranger cramming into the room with them. “Don’t say boyfriend right now,” he admonished. “We’re her brothers, remember?”

Richie made a face. “It was the best I could do on the spot. Figured it was easier than trying to explain the concept of polyamory to some poor ER nurse.”

“It was a good call,” Bill assured him.

“Bill, please stop encouraging Richie’s stupid ideas,” Stan sighed, his voice taking on the cadence of someone reciting a line they’ve rehearsed a thousand times. Bill’s endless support of Richie’s constant chaos was a well-worn argument in the Loser household.

“Yes, dear,” Bill said dutifully, but when Stan turned away to fuss with Bev’s bedsheets, he winked in Richie’s direction. Richie blew him a kiss in return.

Mike shook his head. “Can’t you guys act like normal people for twenty minutes?” he asked, but he was grinning about it.

“Normal?” Richie repeated, incredulous. “You expect me to act normally while our poor, sweet girlfriend is confined to a sick bed?”

“Poor, sweet sister,” Stan corrected him, as if he didn’t know it was a lost cause.

Richie threw his hands up. “This is stupid,” he said. “No one’s listening. And besides, it’s not my fault Ben always gets to play husband.”

“You’re the one who said you were her brother first,” Eddie pointed out.

“Yeah, but only because Ben would have blown our cover immediately,” Richie retorted. “He can’t keep his hands to himself for more than twenty seconds.”

Richie, admittedly, had a point. Ben was tactile. He liked to hug, to hold hands, to feel the heat of another person’s skin against his own. Even then, he was standing at Bev’s side, their fingers loosely laced. He smiled self-consciously, but didn’t pull away. “Sorry.”

Bev squeezed his hand. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” she said firmly. It wasn’t that Bev preferred his presence. She would have been just as content with Mike at her side, or Stan, or one of the others. But Ben took comfort from standing so close to her, and she would never deny him that.

If it were anyone else, Richie would push the issue. Would dig into the soft spot, would wheedle and whine until he got his way. But it was Ben. They were all a little bit soft for Ben. So Richie just smiled and said, “It’s cool, man. You make a good husband.”

“I’d marry you,” Eddie agreed. The only thing he and Richie never fought about was their mutual affection for Ben Hanscom.

“Me, too,” Mike chimed in. Stan and Bill nodded along.

Bev squeezed his hand again. “I would marry the hell out of you,” she told him softly.

And maybe it was the head injury, but it actually didn’t sound like such a bad idea. They could do it in the backyard. She could make her own dress. They wouldn’t even have to invite anyone. It could be just the seven of them, the way it had always been.

“We should do it,” she said.

Ben looked down at her. He was leaning over the bed, his broad body blocking most of the blaring overhead light. He looked like something straight out of a fantasy. She could so easily picture him at the end of an aisle, dressed to the nines in a fitted suit, eyes brimming with happy tears.

“We should get married,” she said, more sure this time.

There was a pause. Slowly, Richie uncurled from his sprawl and sat up straight. His eyes were suddenly very big behind his glasses. “Someone get the doctor,” he gasped. “I think she might have brain damage.”

“Don’t joke about that,” Eddie chastised, but he glanced uncertainly at Bev like he wasn’t entirely convinced it was a joke at all.

“Are you sure you’re alright, Bev?” Bill asked. He raised his hand and made a peace sign. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

Beverly rolled her eyes and started to tell them all that she was just fine, thanks very much, but she was interrupted by a quick knock on the door. It opened, and a middle-aged man in a white coat swept in. If he was surprised to find seven people crammed into one examination room, he didn’t show it. He smiled and introduced himself as Dr. Williams, and then he set to work poking and prodding Beverly’s forehead. The gash there wasn’t very long, but it was deep enough to warrant a few stitches. Beverly had expected that, so she allowed him to clean the wound, numb it, and sew it back together. The entire process took less than ten minutes — just long enough that, by the time the nurse returned to handle her discharge paperwork, the marriage conversation seemed to have been forgotten. Eddie was much calmer now that the wound was bandaged, and Richie had slipped out of the room with Bill to share a cigarette. Stan and Mike were both listening patiently to the nurse’s explanation of how to clean around the stitches without damaging them. Ben was still holding her hand. She wanted to get his attention, to insist that she really had meant it, but it didn’t feel like the right time anymore.

—

Time went on. The stitches dissolved. There was barely even a scar left. Her forehead was still a little tender if she put pressure on it, but otherwise, it was like it never happened.

Beverly still thought about it sometimes, though: the whole marriage thing.

Did she want to be married? She’d never considered it before. It had never felt like a possibility. She’d never really been the kind of kid who dreamed about a big, white wedding. The closest she had ever come was the time they’d put on a pretend ceremony in the underground safety of the clubhouse. She’d been ‘marrying’ Bill back then, which had been nice. She’d worn a crown of flowers that Eddie had picked for her. Stan officiated because he was the only one of them who knew anything about religious ceremonies. Richie walked her down the aisle. Ben cried. Mike snapped a few pictures. They had all pooled their money to get the film developed. One of the better shots was still floating around in a photo album somewhere.

They had probably been too old to play pretend, but maybe that was the thing. Maybe they had all known, deep down, that it hadn’t really been pretend at all.

—

Beverly forgot, on occasion, that her boys knew her as well as she knew them. Even better, sometimes.

She had fully decided to forget about the whole thing. It was a ridiculous idea. She couldn’t marry all of them, after all, not officially. And maybe it made her selfish, but she refused to choose. She wanted them all, equally, forever. A wedding probably wouldn’t change things, but she wasn’t willing to risk it.

And then Ben proposed.

Looking back, she really should have expected it. He had been antsy for days, more so than usual. She had walked into a room more than once to find him huddled up with Stan or Mike or Bill, talking in quiet tones that fell silent the second they noticed her. It was suspicious, sure, but her birthday was coming up. All of the guys got a little weird around her birthday — except Richie, who was always weird and couldn’t keep a secret to save his life.

Except this one, apparently. Richie woke her up one morning by crash-landing in her bed, covering her face with wet, sloppy kisses. Bill stood off to the side, laughing at her misery. She accepted the attack by going completely limp. Richie was as eager and excitable as a puppy, and sometimes the only defense against him was to ignore him until he got bored and moved on.

But he was particularly persistent that morning. And then, eventually, Bill joined them in the bed, tugging her free from the covers and coaxing her into consciousness with promises of breakfast. “Mike’s cooking,” he said. “He made your favorite.”

It was sort of weird, because her favorite was usually reserved for post-fight apologies. She tried to remember if she’d argued with any of them recently, but she couldn’t remember. Richie was still kissing her face in quick bursts, and it was hard to think when she felt surrounded by both of them, warm and comfortable and sleep-slow.

They eventually maneuvered her out of the bed and into the bathroom. There was a pile of clothes waiting for her. Stan must have picked them out, because everything coordinated perfectly, down to the socks. That was another weird thing. Stan didn’t take over her wardrobe unless she seemed particularly tired or stressed, which she didn’t think she had. But it was still a nice gesture, so she got dressed, brushed her teeth and her hair, and then wandered down the hall and into the kitchen.

The whole house smelled like bacon and vanilla, but the scent was so strong there that her mouth started to water reflexively. Mike was standing at the stove, an apron draped from his neck. He was shirtless underneath it. She crossed the room and stood behind him, arms around his waist, cheek against his back. She could hear his strong heartbeat and the steady rhythm of his breathing. When he said, “Good morning, beautiful,” she felt the deep rumble of his voice.

“Morning.” She kissed his bare back, between his shoulder blades, and then released him. Eddie was sitting on the counter, his feet dangling. She patted his knee and they shared a smile. And then Stan was guiding her to the table, where a fresh cup of coffee was waiting for her. It was already doctored to perfection, perfectly sweet. She took a long, grateful sip. Richie and Bill and Ben were gathered around the table in their usual places, watching her. She wasn’t used to so much attention. Sharing a life with six other people meant there were at least six other topics of conversation at any given time. Now, though, they were all looking at her like she was the only person in the room. She slowly lowered her coffee mug. “Guys,” she said warily. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Bill said, too quickly.

Richie feigned hurt, but he wasn’t very convincing about it. “Can’t we do something nice for you without having an ulterior motive?”

Bev considered the question. It was technically possible, but they were all staring at her as if waiting for something, and there was absolutely something ulterior about that. “You guys are being weird,” she accused.

“Richie’s always weird,” Eddie offered.

“It’s not just Richie,” she countered, casting an accusatory glance around the kitchen. None of them met her gaze for more than a few seconds except for Stan, who was cool as a cucumber, like always.

“We do have something to discuss,” he said, as if that wasn’t perfectly clear, but he raised his hand to cut her off when she opened her mouth to ask what the hell he was talking about. “Breakfast first, okay? Then we’ll tell you everything. I promise.”

Beverly hated being left out of the loop, but at the very least none of them seemed angry or upset. Anxious, maybe, but mostly they all looked excited. Richie was practically vibrating in his seat. Bill’s grin was huge. She caught Eddie and Mike sharing a glance, both of them seeming pleased as punch. Ben hadn’t said a word all morning, but when they made eye contact, he winked at her. The kitchen felt warm and welcome. Stan was waiting patiently for an answer, but there was a smile playing around the corner of his mouth, like even he couldn’t fight off his good mood. She sighed, but offered a nod. She could be patient. Probably.

Breakfast dragged on. The boys were usually useless at hiding things from her, but that morning they were all equally tight-lipped, refusing to steer the conversation away from mindless morning chatter. Beverly tried to listen, but she found herself zoning out more than once. Maybe it made her a bad partner, but she didn’t care about the weather or Bruce Willis’ new action movie. She would never say that out loud, of course, but they probably knew anyway. She wasn’t participating much in the banter. She was mostly staring at her plate full of french toast, wondering what the hell might be coming.

Nothing could have prepared her for the ring.

It was like a magic trick. One minute, the boys were all gathered around the table, chattering amongst themselves. And then she blinked, and there was Ben, kneeling beside her chair. No one was speaking. She couldn’t even hear their breathing over the blood rushing suddenly through her ears. Ben was saying something, but she couldn’t hear that, either. All she could do was look back and forth between his moving mouth and his outstretched hand, where the delicate silver band was pinched between his thumb and forefinger. It was inset with a single large diamond, and surrounded on either side by three smaller gems, all different colors. There were seven stones total. Her heart was pounding.

Ben’s lips stopped moving. He was staring at her, looking more and more uncertain by the second. Had he already asked? God, she’d totally missed it.

“Say it again,” she croaked. She needed to hear it.

Ben smiled, somewhere between self-conscious and unbearably fond. “Beverly Marsh,” he said, his sweet voice trembling. “Will you marry us?”

Beverly launched herself at him. He was already unbalanced on one knee, and the force of the impact brought him to the ground. He shouted, and there was a flurry of amused noise from the others, but Beverly held firm and pressed her mouth to every bare inch of his face she could reach. “Yes,” she gasped. She didn’t have to think about it. She’d done nothing but think about it. For months. “Yes, yes, oh my God, yes.”

Richie’s face appear in the periphery. He had knelt down beside them. “I think that’s a yes, bro,” he said, his big mouth beaming. Bev released Ben only to turn onto him, grabbing him by the shoulders and yanking him in for another fast series of kisses. Bill was next, and then Mike. Stan helped her to her feet and then drew her into his arms, slowing her frenzied attack into something softer. By the time she was passed on to Eddie, she had settled. They didn’t kiss but she held him for a long time, cheek to cheek. It felt wet. She realized they were both crying.

And then there was Ben again, back on his feet. He looped his arms around her and drew her against his broad body. “You mean it?” he asked softly.

“Of course I do.” Beverly didn’t think she had ever meant anything more. “I love you.” Except maybe that.

Ben picked up her hand and slid the ring onto her finger. It was a perfect fit. The gems glittered and gleamed under the light. She turned her hand this way and that, throwing the light, unable to tear her eyes away.

She was getting married. Holy shit, she was getting married.

—

As it turned out, planning a wedding was fun when seven people and no paperwork were involved. Everyone had a job. Mike would take the pictures. Stan was going to officiate. Bill and Ben spent long hours in the backyard, draping fairy lights around trees and along the gutters. Eddie made a thousand trips across the city, taking on every last errand in earnest. Richie mostly just stayed out of the way. It worked.

Bev set immediately to work designing her own wedding dress, but she drew the line at making six suits. Most of the boys already had something to wear, but Eddie’s suit jacket was too small and Richie had never worn formalwear in his life, so a month before the big day, Bev kicked them out of the house and refused to let them return in anything less than a tuxedo. They were gone for a couple hours, and then Richie had swanned through the house in an admittedly well-tailored suit, looking proud and pleased. He claimed the whole experience hadn’t even been that bad, especially when he had convinced Eddie to join him in the fitting room — said, of course, with an emphatic wriggle of his eyebrows. Eddie squawked a few token protests, insisting that was not what happened, but the blush that flared across his face really said it all.

The days ticked down. Some felt like a dream, and some felt like stark, terrifying reality. Beverly asked herself every day if she was ready. Every day, she knew she was.

And then, suddenly, inexplicably, it was time.

Beverly woke up alone in her own bedroom. She dressed herself, dotted on some makeup, and pinned up her hair. Somewhere in the rest of the house, the boys were dragging on their suits. She wished she could be with them, could fix their lapels and straighten their ties, but Stan was a stickler for tradition. Apparently it was bad luck to see the bride before the wedding, even if it was a fake wedding. Beverly personally thought a wedding with six grooms could stand to break a few traditions, but Stan insisted.

There was no music to guide her down the aisle. Richie had busted the speakers out of his boombox, and the dog that lived next door barked relentlessly when there was too much noise. So, instead, when Beverly finally opened the back door that morning, she descended the stairs into the yard in silence. Her bare feet made quiet shifting noises against the carpet of grass. Her dress dragged the ground with a soft whisper. The boys were standing in a line, wearing black suits and ties of varying color. It reminded her of her ring, of all the different gems there. She stared at the six of them, all so different from one another. They were beautiful on their own, but all of them together was enough to stop her heart.

Richie started crying almost immediately. That set off Mike, who clung to Bill as if he couldn’t bear to hold himself up under the weight of all the emotion. Bill’s eyes were shiny when he looked at her. Eddie wasn’t looking at her at all, his head ducked down, his shoulders trembling. Even Stan made a noise suspiciously like a sniffle. The only one of them who kept it together was Ben, and that was only because he was staring at her, wide-eyed, as if everything was finally starting to sink in.

“Getting cold feet?” she asked softly, approaching him.

He reached out with surprising speed, gathering her into his arms. “Never,” he said, and then kissed her with so much passion she sagged against him, knees weak.

Beside them, Stan cleared his throat.

“Ah, leave ‘em alone, Staniel,” Richie goaded. “We’re newlyweds.”

“Not yet, we’re not,” Stan said primly. He gently pried Beverly away from Ben and gave them each a stern look that quickly melted into fondness. “Dearly beloved,” he began when he was satisfied they would keep their hands off one another. “We are gathered here today—”

Beverly couldn’t help her giggle. There was something funny about Stan giving the whole speech in front of their empty backyard. He paused to peer at her, fighting a smile. “Something to add, Miss Marsh?”

“Are we all supposed to say vows?” Bill interrupted. He actually looked nervous.

“What’s the matter, Bill?” Richie slung an arm around Bill’s shoulders, leering down at him. “Don’t tell me you have writer’s block.”

“I’ll show you writer’s block,” Bill muttered, shoving his elbow into Richie’s ribs. Richie yowled, jolting away from him. He accidentally treaded on Eddie’s foot, who shouted and swore a blue streak, which set off the neighbor’s dog. Stan tried to get things back on track to continue his speech, but the dog was howling too long and loud for him to be heard.

There was nothing else to do but for the seven of them to spill back into the house, laughing and jostling against one another, drawn together as if magnetized. Beverly couldn’t keep her hands to herself. She had to touch Stan’s perfect hair, Mike’s brilliant smile. She ran her fingers along Ben’s jaw, and across Bill’s chest. She sat in Richie’s lap on their oversized couch and let Eddie pull her feet across his legs. He didn’t even complain that she was getting dirt all over his new pants.

Silence fell after awhile. Even the dog outside calmed. They could have gone back out, tried again, but none of them made a move. All of a sudden, despite the weeks of effort, it didn’t feel important. That was the thing, wasn’t it? A wedding was nice, but it would never feel as good as quiet moments like those, all of them draped together in small ways, a closed circuit of endless affection. What did it matter if they were married? The ring was nice, but it didn’t change the sweet curve of Bill’s smile, the beautiful drag of Stan’s fingers through her hair, the gentle rhythm of Richie’s breathing, the sharp familiarity of Mike’s cologne, the easy weight of Eddie’s hand on her ankle, the gorgeous taste of Ben’s mouth.

Beverly had been theirs in every possible way since she was a kid. She didn’t know how to belong anywhere else. She didn’t want to figure it out.

And the best part was that she didn’t have to. They had offered her forever, after all.

She fully intended to take them up on it.

#ot7 #sometimes i write things #plc fic exchange

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derryhawkins · 5 years ago

Text

Life is a Highway [CH 1/49]

summary: The seven of them made a plan in middle school: use the months between high school and college, and take a road trip through all of the states. Their twelve year old minds didn’t think it would actually happen, but six years later with enough saved up money, they’re going on an extremely long trip together in a large van. pairings: reddie; benverly; stanbranlon word count: 7.49k

AO3 Link

chapter one: maine

Derry, Maine is a small town with barely anything to do. Sure, there's the theater, but it's run down and the only time the group of seven want to go there is if there's a movie premiering that looks extremely interesting; then there's the drive-in theater they go most of the time, but unfortunately it's closing because the owner sold the property to some land-hungry dick. (In about five months time, they won't be able to there anymore - or, rather, a few hours time, considering what they are about to do.) There's not even a mall in Derry; only a lame and tiny grocery store on a corner every once in a while, a few clothes stores, and that one tiny thrift store at the edge of town they all love. There aren't any big chain restaurants, either, other than McDonald's which hardly counts considering how shitty it is, and if you want to go to a big shot supermarket like Walmart or something, you'll have to drive a town or so over.

So, to put it simply, Derry sucks. It's a bum-fuck of a town that the group hates with varying degrees, and that's the exact reason they're all high tailing it out of there the day they graduate before heading off for college, because they don't want to stay in this town any longer.

The Losers Club - a name they gave themselves in middle school - are going on a road trip through every state, excluding Hawaii and Alaska for obvious reasons. It's something that they never thought they would be able to do, but something they dreamed of since they were just shy of thirteen during the summer they all first met one another. The seven of them made a plan in middle school: use the months between high school and college, and take a road trip across the states. Their twelve year old minds didn’t think it would actually happen, but six years later with enough saved up money, they’re going on an extremely long trip together in a large van.

No one can exactly remember how the plan came to be - it could have been when Bill was talking about taking an adventure, or when Eddie exclaimed he wanted to leave the town, or when Mike stated that he wants to visit the national parks at some point - but either way, that fateful day in the barrens ended up with them having a just out of reach plan to go on a road trip together. At first, they all forgot, but not even two weeks later Richie brings it up again and that's when they started saving money the best they could, slowly starting to ease their families into the plan as well.

Now here they are after graduation in their separate homes, getting ready to leave later that night. Each of them have a good bit of money saved both in their wallets and in their savings and checkings accounts, and they're all more than ready to leave Derry behind and not come back for another two to three months, only to leave again for college right after.

The road trip either going to end terribly or amazingly, though; they've been stuck together for seven years now. At any chance they got, the group of the would hang out. Sometimes it would be all seven of them, other times it wouldn't be, but that didn't matter at the time and it still doesn't because they're stuck like glue. From the moment they became friends in '89, it's always been like that. But they've never been stuck in one place all together at a time for more than three days thanks do various weekend sleepovers. For the next two to three months, they're going to be basically living in a van, staying in cheap motels, and being surrounded by one another nearly 24/7.

Bill Denbrough just hopes it doesn't break their close friendship.

A smaller body ramming into him brings Bill out of his thoughts before he has the chance to dwell more about the road trip. He stumbles a bit at the impact and quickly looks down to see his twelve year old brother, Georgie, and lets go of the handle of his suit case, giving a small laugh. The laughs dies out quick though at realizing that his little brother is holding a bit too tight, and the front of his shirt is slowly becoming wet. Bill sighs and hugs Georgie back. "I'll b-be back in no time, Georgie," Bill assures the kid. "S-S-Summer's gonna f-fly by!" He inwardly winces at his stutter. It's been getting better, but every once in a while he still can't go more than a few words without stuttering.

"But then you're leaving for college," Georgie cries, spitting out the word as if it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Bill frowns and moves his hands to Georgie's shoulders. He slowly pushes them apart from one another to where he can comfortable squat down and look at his little brother in the eye. "I promise to be back in t-time so we can have a w-w-week together before I go, alright?" He wipes away the tears on the kid's cheeks, and he suddenly feels thirteen again, smearing away tears off of seven year old Georgie's face after a bad nightmare. But this isn't a nightmare. It's Bill leaving. And he hates it, really. Sure, he's excited to be with his friends, but he hates having to leave behind his brother even if it is for a couple or so months. At the thought, he can feel his own tears start to form but he blinks them away and smiles. "We can p-p-play that vuh-video game you like as much as you want. Hell, you might not want to hang with me b-buh-b-by the time I get back. You might have your own friend group."

Georgie sniffles, wiping under his nose with the back of his hand.

As he witnesses that, Bill can hear Eddie clear as day in his mind complaining about germs and what-not, followed by Stan's offer of some tissues paired something inappropriate from Richie.

"What if I don't?" Georgie asks. "Have my own friends, I mean."

"You will, trust me. So long as you go outside."

He rolls his eyes but Bill does and says nothing about it, because at least Georgie isn't crying anymore.

"Help me bring my stuff to Dad's car?" Bill asks. He stands straight and reaches for his suitcase again, vaguely gesturing to the pillow, blanket, and backpack on the couch. Georgie hurriedly nods and grabs the pillow and blanket while Bill reaches for the backpack full of books, papers, pens, a few games, his polaroid camera and film for it, and snacks that will probably last him one day. Together, the brothers leave the living room and walk outside, putting all of Bill's stuff in the trunk for the time being. He then looks at the watch on his wrist - a graduation present from his parents - and smiles when he realizes he still has a few hours to kill before he needs to rush to Richie's house. "Hey, wanna play a video game before I g-?"

Bill doesn't get to finish the question, because Georgie is gasping, interrupting his big brother, and quickly saying yes before latching a hand onto Bill's wrist and dragging back inside.

+++

Mike Hanlon, as much as he is excited, is equally nervous. He’s never been outside of Derry, Maine before other than the occasional trip out of town to the next one over for a giant shopping spree with a few of the other Losers. But other than that? He’s been stuck in the same, boring town. Now, in a few hours time, he’s going to be hightailing out of here with six best friends to 48 different states. He can believe it, honestly. This road trip had been but a simple dream and out of reach want for a lame group of kids six years ago. Fast forward, and now it’s really happening. He’s packing for two and a half months. He has a debit card with hopefully enough money and cash in his wallet that he promises his parents that he won’t waste on unnecessary things. He’s got snacks in his backpack, along with some deck of cards and things to keep him entertained when he’s not the one driving. He double checks everything to make sure he isn’t missing anything before dragging his things to his parents’ car.

The nerves won’t go away but the excitement over powers them. Mike shuts the trunk once putting everything in, and goes back inside and ventured to the kitchen to find his mom with two Tupperware boxes of chocolate chip cookies and two more of brownies. Mike can only stare for a second. They just had a family dinner. Cookies and brownies had been no where in sight then, yet suddenly here they are.

“Uh. Mom?” He questions, gesturing to the four boxes. “Where did this come from?”

The woman looks up with a bright grin. “Oh! I made these yesterday but hid ‘em so they wouldn’t get eaten too soon. They’re for your trip – a gift for your friends graduatin' and somethin' to snack on.”

Mike can just smile. His mother’s cookies and brownies are the best, and the Losers think the exact same thing. “Thanks, Mom. They’re gonna love them,” he tells her.

“Who doesn’t love your mother’s cooking?” Mike’s father questions as he walked into the kitchen. His eyes quickly land on his son. “Ready for your trip?”

He sucks in a breath and nods. “Most definitely. I am nervous a bit, though.”

The man rolls his eyes. “Don’t be. Only the parents are allowed to be nervous here, got it? Have fun and don’t do anything stupid.”

“I won’t," Mike promises.

His dad continues on, “And if anyone gives you shit, threaten them with a gun under their chin. Works like a charm.”

“Will,” Jessica Hanlon speaks in a warning tone to her husband.

“What? Want me to tell him to not stand up for himself and his friends?” Will asks.

Mike smiles as his eyes flit between his parents. “If it comes to that, I’ll try things nicely at first, promise.”

Jessica Hanlon looks pleased with that. “Good. Now, let’s get these in the car and get you to Richard’s, okay?”

“We’ve still got-.”

“If you wanna leave on time, you gotta get there early to pack everything in that van.”

She’s right. Of course she is, she’s Jessica Hanlon, a mom; and somehow mothers always know best – good mothers, that is. Not someone like Sonia Kaspbrak. Mike, after nodding in response to his mom, makes a face at the thought of his best friend’s mom as he helps carry the brownies and cookies to the car. Mrs. Kaspbrak is an overly protective and anxious parental figure with a giant irrational fear of her son being sick. She had made her child believe that he had tens of different sicknesses, making him take placebo pills, and inhaler for his very not real asthma that he now uses for panic attacks.

Mike carefully hands his mom the thing of cookies after she sets the brownies carefully in the backseat. She takes them with a smile and a thank you.

Thankfully though, Mike doesn’t need to worry much about whether or not Eddie’s mom is going to go crazy and lock him up in his room and keep him from going on the field trip, because the anxiety ridden teen made afternoon plans with Beverly Marsh. So, he stops worrying about Eddie, keeps himself from worrying about any of the others, and makes sure that he hasn’t forgotten anything before saying bye to his grandparents. He’s then climbing into the car beside the sweets, his parents up front, pure excitement coursing through him now.

+++

Beverly Marsh’s giggles mix with Eddie Kaspbrak’s loud laugh as they lean on one another for support. The radio is on, some pop song neither of them care much for playing softly in the background in the girl’s room; their suitcases and belongings that they’re taking on the road trip are in a neat pile in the living room, excluding the nail polish kit that’s currently sat on the messy bed with the two high school graduates. Neither of them know what they're laughing at anymore, having gotten into this fit of laughter and giggles minutes before hand, unable to stop once they started. Bev and Eddie sit across from each other, but as the laughs continued, Bev found herself leaning forward to where her forehead is resting on Eddie's shoulder, and as he leans back to catch his breath, it causes her head to drop down nearly face first into his crotch, eliciting more laughter after a beat of surprised silence.

Bev shrieks with laughter as she falls backwards with her knees in the air and arms around herself. "I almost face-planted your dick," she gets out through the laughter, wheezing.

Eddie wipes under his eyes, careful not to mess up the royal blue nail polish that's still drying, and he tries to calm himself down but giggles are bubbling up once again. "Oh, my God, that's the closest any girl will ever get to it." And the words just add to the fuel. Because, fuck, if that isn't the truest thing in the entire fucking world. Eddie is very much gay and Bev knows it, along with Stan and Richie, so the chance of a girl ever getting close to his private parts are in the negatives.

"Shit," Bev breathes out, a few more chuckles leaving her lips. "Fuck, Ed. My sides hurt." It comes out a vague whining tone but a smile is on her lips, so Eddie doesn't jump to serious conclusions about his best friend's health. His sides are hurting too, so he knows it's just from their laughing fit.

"That's the most I've laughed in days," Eddie admits, and Bev can only nod because she hasn't either. Between the stress of finals and getting ready for graduation, none of them have been stress-free enough to laugh that much. Hell, the seven of them haven't even spent much time together in the past couple of weeks because of school. Now, though, that's about to change. They are stress free, too, meaning laughter is coming easy. Maybe too easy for Eddie and Bev.

"Okay. Alright, we need to calm down," Bev says. She sits up, eyes glassy from tears of laughter, a dopey look on her face. But then her brows are lowering and she's become serious all of a sudden, nearly taking Eddie by surprise. "You didn't mess up my artwork did you?"

"Uh..." Eddie lifts his hands to look at the dark blue nails and then shows them to Bev. It certainly isn't the first time she's painted them; but back then it was either a thumb, or a piny, or one of his middle fingers just for shits and giggles. Never a full hand or both. That isn't the case this time around. Eddie won't need to worry about his mother seeing the color on his nails that'll then cause her to worry about her suspicion of her precious, delicate, baby breathing in toxic fumes of nail polish. He just has to worry about possibly messing the nails up while they dry, and he hopes that he hasn't done that.

Bev smiles, satisfied, serious expression gone. She takes her nail painting seriously. "Good. I actually think they're dry, honestly. Wanna do mine?"

Eddie's wide-eyed at the question. "Dude, what?"

"Dude, yeah," She mocked him, deepening her voice but not much. "It's not hard, Eddie, and it doesn't matter if it's messy."

He eyes the colors skeptically. "I dunno, Bev," he says slowly. "I don't wanna be the reason you have shitty nails."

The scoff that escapes her is paired with an eye roll. "I literally don't give a shit, man. Paint my nails fuckin'...shit brown, for all I care. This is about having fun and nail polish remover is a thing, need I remind you?"

"Fuck off," he mumbles and reaches for a dark green nail polish. He holds the bottle up, asking a silent question of if that color is okay. She nods enthusiastically with a bright smile, and soon enough Eddie is twisting the cap of the bottle off after shaking it and carefully starts to paint Bev's nails the best of his ability. They talk while he does so, avoiding anything that might cause them to break into a ten minute fit of laughter again, soaking in one another's company. Eddie sits cross-cross apple sauce, his knees touching Bev's since she is sitting the same way. He concentrates hard on making sure he doesn't mess up. Their conversations dwindle down to Bev simply telling him stories of funny situations he hadn't been around for at school.

It's when he's on her right ring finger when she asks, "Have you told Rich yet?"

Eddie freezes, the brush of the polish halting halfway across the nail. He blinks and shifts. The question is nowhere close to the same topic of Betty Ripsom downing milk mixed with hot sauce. Or, maybe it is, because it wouldn't surprise Eddie if Richie has done that before. A sigh escapes him and he goes back to painting his friend's nails, frowning. "No," he says quietly.

"Why not?"

"Because he doesn't like me like that."

Bev lets out a one syllable laugh.

Eddie glances up at her from his slouched position. "I'm serious, Bev," he says.

"So am I," she tells him. "He likes you back, Eddie, believe me."

"Okay. If that's the case, so does Ben."

It's her turn to frown. "You heard what he said at the New Years party," she speaks quietly. "He used to like me. In middle school."

"Well, I don't believe that," Eddie tells her. She gives him a look, the exact same one he gives her when she insists that Richie likes him back. "I might even say he loves you."

"Oh, shut up," she exclaims. "He doesn't- the hell, Eddie?!"

He shrugs innocently, and finishes her right hand. "Well, he does. As friends, for sure. We all love each other. But I also mean he's, like, in love with you."

"If he did, he would've done something by now."

"He wrote you that poem," he points out. Eddie then brings her left hand closer, starting at her thumb. His dark eyes glance to her other hand; its messy as all hell but, like she said earlier, she obviously doesn't mind it. He blows a strand of hair from his forehead. Or, well, he tries to; it just ends up tickling him, making his nose scrunch up. In the end, Bev picks the strand carefully and easily moves it without messing up Eddie's work.

"We don't even know if that was actually him. I never figured it out," she says after a beat of silence.

The corners of his lips tug down. "Oh..."

She sighs. "Yeah." Then, "At least you have hope."

He rolls his eyes. "I do not-."

His protests got cut short by Beverly's aunt. "Bev! Eddie! Ben is here, so we gotta leave!"

Eddie raises a brow. "Speak of the devil."

Red dusts Bev's cheeks instantly and she moves to get off of the bed. She hisses a shut up at him. Then, "We're coming, Aunt Freya!"

"I haven't finished your nails!" Eddie complains as he closes the green polish, putting it with the others in a rush as Bev carefully opens the bedroom door to leave. He grabs the nail polish kit once its all together and hurries after Bev, nearly running into her.

When they enter the living room, he spots Ben talking to Freya, the eighteen year old towering over the woman with ease. It hit Eddie then how much Ben has truly changed over the years; he isn't that chubby kid anymore thanks to working out, joining Derry High's track team, and eating healthier, and it shows. He's more muscle now than anything. A sharp jaw. Long legs. Broad shoulders, too. But he's still Ben, with a kind smile and sweet blue eyes and straight dirty blond hair.

He leans close to Bev at realizing she is standing in place, too. "Ben looks extra hot today," he whispers just loud enough for only Bev to hear.

The look he gets in return is one of pure agreement.

+++

Richie is quite literally vibrating from excitement.

For the life of him, he can’t keep still. All throughout dinner, he had been jittery and talked faster than ever before about one thing or another, rambling nonstop. He only stopped as he went to his room when dinner was over. Still, an hour has passed by since then, and Richie’s motormouth is still going as he packs last minute things into a backpack, two suitcases on top of his bed.

Stan Uris leans against the door frame with crossed arms and a stoic expression as he listens to his best friend ramble on and on about how excited he is for the road trip. The Jewish boy has been there for approximately five minutes and he’s already heard more from Richie than the past week. Not that Stan can complain though – okay, he actually could, but won’t for now – because he’s excited too. His stoic expression doesn’t last long at all and soon enough he’s butting in with his own excitement filled words, leaving the door frame to the chair at Richie’s desk, occasionally mentioning things that the dark haired teen might want or, more importantly, need on the trip.

It goes like that for the next hour until Wentworth Tozier is shouting for the boys to bring down Richie’s belongings so they can start filling the twelve passenger van’s trunk up with suitcases. Stan’s is already there since his things had been neatly left in the living room, so all they have to currently do is put Richie’s in there. They toss their backpacks and pillows and blankets in their claimed seats – Richie gets the passenger’s seat, and Stan is sitting directly behind him. Either Bill or Mike are driving first; that situation has yet been affirmed. Went then puts in three of those red gallon things for gas in the very last row of seats where none of the Losers will be sitting.

They finish packing up the car with their things – including a cooler of drinks, tons of mixtapes Richie had made that he puts messily in the glove compartment, and the handy-dandy map Stan brought - and while Maggie and Went head back inside, Stan and Richie stay outside, climbing to the top of the van. They just sit there, legs dangling off of the edge as they converse with one another, watching for their friends.

"I can't believe this is happening," Richie says for probably the millionth time that day, and he continues as Stan nods. "I mean, dude, we were twelve and bored and so tired of the town already. Not to mention we probably each had, like...two cents to our names. How the fuck did we save up enough money? This is a fucking dream!" He throws his arms up in the air and nearly smacks Stan in the face, the light curly haired boy blinking wildly as he leans back, a bit stunned.

Stan grabs Richie's wrist and moves it up and away from his space somewhat harshly. "I’m more surprised our parents agreed,” he admits. “We aren’t exactly the best behaved group around.”

“I mean, we’re eighteen; all of us. What can they do now? We’re legal adults, Stanny!”

“Well, we do still technically live in their homes, meaning we should live by their rules-.”

Richie groans and flops down onto the roof of the van, arms spread out. “Rules smules, Stanny. They agreed, man, just be happy.” He then puts his sunglasses over his eyes despite darkness having settled over them a bit ago.

The only thing lighting up the driveway is the lamppost not too far away and the moon and stars above them. Richie pushes the sunglasses to his forehead to get a proper look at the stars, thinking of the stick-on and glow in the dark ones on his ceiling in his bedroom. Eddie helped him put the stars up their a few years ago; both boys were bored and Richie wanted something added to his chaotic mess of a room. Hence the glow in the dark stars. It became a mess, to put it simply. Eddie had attempted to copy real constellations; some were put too close together causing random clusters and others seem to be too far apart. Eventually the boys gave up on making it seem like an actual sky and just plasters the stars randomly. Later they made up their own constellations. And looking at the sky with actual stars with real constellations makes him want to head up to his bedroom, lay on his bed, and look at the made up ones.

“—ike’s here.”

Richie blinks and turns to look at Stan, brows knitting together as he watched his best friend climb off of the van carefully. It takes him a moment to realize that someone is driving up to is house and that Stan already knows who it is. Richie sits up and smiles wide at seeing the familiar car that belongs to the Hanlons, and he catches Stan’s eye as they pull in beside the van, winking. Stan’s cheeks turn pink for the slightest second as he subtly flips off Richie.

“Mikey!” Richie shouts as their friend exits his parents’ car. The lanky eighteen year old is now standing on top of the van with arms spread out and a wide smile adorning his features.

Stan rolls his eyes at Richie but smiles at Mike. “Hey, Mikey.”

“Hi, Stan,” Mike says, pulling him into a tight hug. It takes Stan by surprise, eyes widening for a split second before he’s hugging back. All the while, he’s trying to not freak out, and hopes that Mike can’t feel his quickened heartbeat.

“Oh, alright. Ignore me for Stan the Man – I’m just chopped liver, aren’t I? Well, fu- uh. Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Hanlon, how are you on this fine night?” Richie chuckles nervously and stuffs his hands into his shorts’ pockets. He moves back and forth on his feet as he looks down at Mike’s parents, acting as if wasn’t about to cuss out his friends.

Will Hanlon politely smiles at the teen. “We’re doing good, Richie. How are you?”

“I’m great. On top of the world, one could say!”

“You be careful up there now, understand?” Jessica Hanlon says after greeting Stan with a hug and a kiss on the cheek; Stan just waves at Mike’s dad, who smiles and waves back.

Richie nods. “Yes, ma’am, I will.“

“I’ll be sure to push him off the edge,” Stan jokes.

Mike laughs. “Hey, we don’t need Richie being injured just yet.”

“Yet?” Richie echoes, offended. “The hell’s that supposed to mean?!”

Neither boy gets to answer, because Jessica is speaking again. “Are Maggie and Went inside, Richie?”

“Yes, ma’am, they are. Probably canoodling, or something, or crying about their favorite child leaving.”

“You’re full of it today, Rich,” Stan says.

“Mike, don’t forget the brownies and cookies,” Will reminds his son as he and his wife walk to the front door, his words keeping Richie from blurting out anything remotely sexual back at his best friend.

“The infamous Mrs. Hanlon’s sweets!” Richie shouts. He rubs his hands together and Mike is half reminded of a fly. “Give me one, please, Mikey?”

Mike shakes his head as he grabs two tupperware boxes. He gives them to Stan, who lifts them up to try and look at the contents through the somewhat see-through plastic. “Not until we get on the road. Sorry, man,” Mike says, looking genuinely guilty. He’s then getting the other two boxes and shits the car door with his foot.

“Buzz kill.”

“Lay off him, Rich.”

“Two buzz kills!”

“Eddie’s here.”

“Where?” Richie spins around to look down the street both ways. He nearly trips over his own two feet but steadies himself, not noticing how both Stan and Mike hurry forward in case he doesn’t. A soft breeze passes by them; it ruffles up Stan’s and Richie’s curls, and makes Richie’s ugly bright green Hawaiian shirt sway. There’s no car, though. No sign of their hypochondriac or fiery redhead or their favorite clubhouse builder. He visibly pouts and looks down at Stan through his glasses. “Fucking rude, dude.”

“Whoops. Sorry.” But he’s not – at least Stan sounds and looks; a flat voice and amusement in his eyes.

Mike softly chuckles. “Everyone will get here soon, man, don’t sweat it.”

Richie moves to sit back down on the top of the van as the other two situate the sweets, and then together the maneuver Mike’s luggage in the trunk, leaving his backpack and all out until they decide who’s driving. After that, Mike and Stan climb to the top of the van and sit on either side of Richie as they wait for the remaining four. The conversation between them flows easily, sharing what they’re excited about and making plans to have a prank war at some point.

+++

“This stupid potholes.”

Ben turns around from the passenger’s seat and looks at Beverly and Eddie, the two facing each other in the back of Freya’s car as the boy attempts to finish the girl’s nails on the car ride to Richie’s. Ben shifts around to look easier and peers at Bev’s nails on her left hand.

“Doesn’t look bad, Ed,” Ben tells his friend. “Considering how many potholes we’ve gone over in the past two minutes.”

“I’m trying to avoid them, I swear,” Freya speaks from her spot in the driver’s seat, sounding just as annoyed as Eddie. “Stupid Derry won’t repave any of the roads!”

Eddie sighs in frustration as they hit another pothole. Both him and Bev attempt to stay as still as possible to avoid getting green nail polish all over her fingers. “They look like crap,” he mumbles.

“They look good!” Bev assures. “Better than what I could’ve done in this situation, honestly.”

Eddie gives her a look of disbelief but doesn’t say anything.

“Certainly better than me, that’s for sure,” Ben tells him.

“You’ve painted her nails before,” Eddie states.

“Not in a moving car on a pothole filled road.”

The short teen rolls his eyes. Ben notices that he tried to hide a smile, but he still sees it anyway. Ben looks over to Bev, and blinks as she quickly turns away from having been caught looking at him. Ben bites back his own smile as some pink fists across her cheeks, red curls touching her chin and hiding part of her face. All he really wants to do is push the strands out of the way to get a better look at her.

He doesn’t. Instead, he focused back on Eddie concentrating hard. Just as he finally finishes, Bev’s aunt is stopping the car. Ben turns around properly to see that they are stopped on the side of the road just before the Tozier mailbox. It doesn’t take long at all for him, Eddie and Bev to scurry out of the car and up to where the van is parked.

“Told you they’d be here soon,” Ben hears Mike say to Richie, who flicks Mike in the forehead. That earns Richie a slap in the back of the head from Stan. Ben smiles fondly at them as he stops at the side of the van.

“Why are you on top of the van?” Ben asks.

“Why aren’t you?” Stan retaliates.

Ben nods, his smile growing. “Good point,” he laughs.

“My Eds!” Richie suddenly shouts and stands, arms thrown out.

Ben spins around to see the end of Eddie flinching at the sudden shout from Richie.

Eddie turns around from pulling out his things from Freya’s car and flares at Richie. “I’m not your anything, and that isn’t my name! And what the hell are you doing standing on top of the van?! You could break something if you fall, dipshit!”

Ben walks back to the car, passing Freya on the way as the woman goes inside, and gets his stuff out, tubing out Richie’s and Eddie’s loud bickering as he does so. He freeze though, glancing beside him at Bev leaning against the car with a vague pout.

“You okay, Bev?”

She lifts her head and looks at him. “Hm? Oh, yeah! Just... Can’t get my things because of my nails.” As if to prove it, she lifts up both hands, wiggling her fingers.

Ben gets his pillow last and carefully sets it on top of his suitcase. “I’ll get yours, don’t worry about it.”

“What? No, I- my stuff is heavy, Ben, and if I’m careful I can lift it on my own.”

He shakes his head and starts getting Bev’s things. “It’s really no problem. I did help you put them in the car, by the way. Plus, you don’t want to mess up Eddie’s hard work, do you?”

“Damn right she doesn’t,” Eddie butts in to grab his own pillow. “I’ll have your head if you do, Marsh. Oh my God, Richie stop acting like you’re gonna jump off of the van or I’ll push you myself! Stan, don’t you dare actually push him!”

Ben and Bev glance at each other as Eddie rushes over to the van. They share a silent look – idiots, that’s what Richie and Eddie are – and let out small laughs.

“Thanks, Ben,” Bev says a few minutes later when her, Eddie’s and Ben’s luggage are placed in the trunk, backpacks and pillows in their claimed seats inside the van.

He shrugs. “No problem, Bev.”

“I’d totally give you a hug but...” She lifts her hands again.

“You can just give me one later,” he finds himself saying. It surprises him, and he quickly tries to backtrack. “Not- not that you have to! Just, uh, y’know, I- it’s just a hug, I mean, and obviously you don’t have to if you don’t want to. I don’t- don’t really need one, either, but- fuck, I’m not saying I don’t want a hug, because hugs are nice! They’re really nice! Um. I-.”

“Ben.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s okay,” Bev tells him with a small smile.

“Oh, alright. Good.” He relaxed then, and nods, and smiles back.

Then she’s turning around and is demanding help from Richie and Mike to get on the roof of the van - Eddie's already up there - and Ben stays by the closed trunk in attempt to stop his fast beating heart. A few months ago, he genuinely believed that he was over the crush on Bev. At the time, he thought it was true. It hit him rather quickly that it wasn’t. That it isn’t. And now, with Bev under the moonlit and starlit sky and a single street lamp casting an orange glow that causes her red hair to stick out beautifully and sits on her skin wonderfully, he can’t help but think that he might even be falling in love.

He shakes his head at the thought. He can’t be in love with Bev; can’t date her, either. She’s Bill’s ex. Sure, they’re friends – best friends, all of them – but a part of him still feels bad for even bringing up a possibility of dating her.

Then, he’s pushing those thoughts away and gets on top of the van, too, staying clear of the middle where Richie stands, holding Eddie hostage in his arms as a form of a hug.

“Bill’s officially late,” Mike announces as he catches a glimpse of the time on Stan’s watch. “It’s two minutes passed nine.”

“Just say nine-oh-two, Mikey, it’s simpler,” Richie says, still holding onto Eddie, albeit not as tightly and neither are standing anymore. He’s sitting down with Eddie between his legs, back to chest, Richie’s long arms around the smaller teen. And Eddie doesn’t look annoyed; rather comfortable and content, and Ben is reminded of the hundreds of times they shared the hammock in the underground clubhouse. His eyes move between the two and then finds himself looking back to Bev, who’s sitting near the back. They both look back at Richie and Eddie before meeting eyes again, sharing another look.

Mike flips Richie off, turning his head to smile sickeningly sweet. “No.”

Richie returns the gesture. "Fuck a cactus," he says, sounding equally sickeningly sweet.

"Ladies first, Tozier."

Stan rolls his eyes and reaches behind him to slap Richie's foot, and then gently backhands Mike's shoulder. No one gets a chance to say anything else, because right then the familiar Denbrough car is coming down the road and parking behind Bev's aunt's car. A small figure jumps out first, which causes Richie to rip himself away from Eddie and get down from the top of the van.

"Georgie!" Richie exclaims as he runs over, passing Bill completely to get to the youngest Denbrough brother.

"Richie!" Georgie shouts back equally excited.

Even from the top of the van, Ben can see Bill's offended look; and by the laughs of the others, they can see it too. Everyone gets off of the van then to greet Bill, and help pack the things into the trunk. Mike gets to Bill first, pulling their friend into a hug and pressing a friendly kiss to the top of his head before pulling away. Then Stan and Eddie trap Bill into a hug sandwich as Mike explains how Bill is late - "By three fucking m-minutes, dude!" - before they step away and let Bev greet him. Ben looks else where in that moment, and finds himself watching Richie as the lanky guy runs around the yard with Georgie on his back.

"P-Pretty sure he loves Georgie more than me," Bill jokes as he walks up to Ben, a soft smile on his face as he looks at the two as well.

Ben looks at him. "Honestly, that's possible," he teases.

Bill scoffs and rolls his eyes, and pulls the taller eighteen year old into a hug. "Shut the fuck up," he says fondly.

+++

Stan watches through the windshield at the parents saying goodbye to their children. (It’s nearing nine-thirty, meaning they've got to leave soon if they want to get to their destined motel before two in the morning). They situated all the seating arrangements for the time being once the Losers all had their fair share of Georgie Denbrough hugs and loving; Stan and Richie ended up switching spots for the only reason that whoever is driving needs someone to check the map - something of which Stan has and isn't letting any of the others keep - so, really, they had to switch.

After making sure that no one is forgetting anything, the goodbyes to the families have started, and Stan is honestly glad that neither of his parents are there. They already had their tearful goodbyes and hugs; he actually urged them to head back home after they dropped him off at Richie's. He watches as the Toziers try not to cry in front of one another, and Freya hugging Bev; both are wiping tears from under their eyes as they pull away. Then there are the Denbroughs; Zach and Sharon are rattling off important things that Bill needs to remember, the teen comforting Georgie the best he could. Then there are the Hanlons - dry eyes but bittersweet smiles and words of good luck. The only others who aren't saying goodbye to a familiar member is Eddie, who's in the middle of the row of seats right behind the driver's and passenger's, and Ben, who went inside earlier to use the bathroom.

"I wish my dad were here," Eddie suddenly blurts out, yanking Stan away from people watching.

Stan turns his head to Eddie with a frown. The boy doesn't talk much about his dad at all, meaning none of the Losers have really heard much about Frank Kaspbrak. All they know is that the guy really liked cars, and because of that Eddie got into liking cars, too. "What makes you say that?" Stan asks. And, well, the answer is kind of obvious but it's better than saying I'm sorry or nothing at all.

Eddie shrugs and leans back against the seat, brown eyes moving over their friends still outside of the van. "I don't know," he whispers. "Just...wish I had a cool dad, I guess."

"All dads are lame," Stan says. "Horrible humor, sometimes emotionless, terrible fashion taste. But, hey, you can borrow my dad sometime. He'll force you to listen to jazz, though, just a warning."

At the small smile that comes from his friend, Stan lets himself smile too. "I don't think borrowing dads is a thing."

"Should be," Stan says. "Imagine borrowing Went for a day."

Eddie's smile grows. "A dentist? No thanks, the guy'll force me to floss after every meal! Imagine borrowing Mr. Hanlon?"

"He'd just put us to work. Endless dad jokes, too." He pauses. "Mr. Denbrough?"

"I love him, but he's boring. Bill says he just watches sports."

"Okay, so maybe borrowing dads shouldn't be a thing."

As they both laugh, the back doors are sliding open and Ben is going to the row of seats behind Eddie. "You guys excited?" He asks, leaning on one of the head rests in front of him.

Eddie nods quickly. "Definitely. I can't wait until we pass that 'Leaving Derry' sign."

"You can say that again," Bev's voice meets their ears as she climbs in to sit beside Eddie, smiling kindly at Ben. She sits criss cross apple sauce in the seat and holds her pillow to her chest. "Why are we leaving at night again?"

"Because we wanted to leave as soon as possible but also didn't want to cut time with family too short," Stan answers.

She just nods, and then soon enough everyone else is getting into the van. Bill gets into the driver's seat; he refuses to let anyone else drive on the first night, and Mike gets into the back with Ben while Richie sits on the other side of Eddie. After making sure that everyone is situated with their seatbelts buckled, they leave the drive way, hands sticking out of the windows to wave by their parents, and Bill drives them out of the neighborhood at a safe pace, only to speed up the moment he's out of it and Richie unbuckles his seat belt and leans up front, eliciting shouts from almost everyone.

"What the fuck, Richie?!" Eddie yells.

Richie doesn't say anything back, and instead points to the glove compartment while looking at Stan. "We need music, buddy," he says to him.

Stan gives him a look. "Will you put your seatbelt back on if I help you?"

"Maybe."

He smiles - a small one but a smile nonetheless - and opens the glove compartment, eyebrows raising at how many homemade cassette tapes and protected CDs. "Uh... Which one?"

Richie leans forward more and points to one of the cassette tapes. "The mixtape that says, 'Finally leaving Derry'."

Stan nods and swats Richie away like a fly. He grabs the desired mixtape and holds it up until Richie's sitting back properly with the seatbelt on, and Stan chuckles when Eddie whacks him upside the head for unbuckling it in the first place. He finally puts it in. Bill then turns up the music as the familiar guitar riffs of 'Should I Stay or Should I Go' by The Clash fills the van, foot pushing harder on the pedal as they get closer to leaving Derry.

Finally, they pass the Leaving Derry, Come Back Soon! sign, and the graduates all share matching grins of excitement.

They all seem to simultaneously breathe out a breath of air, relieved to finally be leaving their hometown. Richie soon starts to dance in his seat as he belts out the lyrics to the song with Mike and Bev, and Ben gets out Bill's camera after asking for permission and takes a photo that's destined to be blurry as shit once it develops properly. Eddie's vaguely annoyed at first but soon joins in, and Stan just bobs his head along to the music as Bill does his best to not wreck the van within the first ten minutes of getting on the road; but he's still smiling and laughing at his friends. He can already tell that the trip is going to be filled with fun times. And, well, he hopes that's all there is.

taglist: @snapmyneckandcallmeloki @eddiekazier

#reddie #benverly #it fic #it 2017 #road trip au #my writing #the losers club #richie tozier #bill denbrough #eddie kaspbrak #stan uris #stanley uris #mike hanlon #ben hanscom #beverly marsh #life is a highway #*

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the--blackdahlia · 5 years ago

Text

Too Young to Fall in Love Chapter 51 (Dirt!Nikki x Reader)

Title: Too Young to Fall in Love 51

Summary: Nikki Sixx was a hard partying musician on the strip. He never expected to fall in love with anyone, until a girl knocked on his dressing room door looking for a ride home and took his breath away. Just like everything else Nikki did; the drugs, the money, the music; Nikki went hard with love. (Y/n) Bass never expected the bassist of Motley Crue to be the one to shake her calm and calculated life up. She had a plan. Graduate school, become an epic producer, and watch from behind the scenes as her brother’s band rose to fame. Nikki and (Y/n) were perfect for each other, too bad her brother, Tommy, didn’t think so.

Series warnings: Smut (18+ Please), drug use, language, referenced miscarriage, drug overdose, mentioned attempted suicide, out of character moments for everyone in the band, the timeline might be a little screwy but it’s fanfiction! I know nothing of music production and my medical knowledge is really screwy, so it won’t be accurate.

A few months later

“Babe! I’m home!” Nikki called out as he came through the door. “Stopped at the bakery and got the cake! And those cupcakes you like!” It was quiet downstairs. “Babe?” He sat the baked goods on the island and headed into the house. He made his way to the nursery, where he could hear music playing. (Y/n) was decorating, wanting everything to look perfect.

“(Y/n).” Nikki said softly. She jumped and turned to look at him.

“You scared me!” She laughed. “So, what do you think?” They had went with softer, neutral tones, and the paint had just finished drying, so (Y/n) was putting up all the decorations. Cute little animals playing instruments.

“It’s perfect.” Nikki smiled and wrapped his arms around her, his hands resting on her bump. “Everything is amazing.” He kissed on her neck, holding her close. She moaned softly, then glanced at the time on the watch Nikki was wearing.

“Shit!” She called out. “Everyone’s going to be here in like an hour or two!” She pulled away from Nikki. “I need to get a shower and...and…”

“Babe, relax.” Nikki smiled. “I got the cake. Pizza is scheduled. You just go get a shower and calm down, okay.” He kissed her gently.

“What would I do without you?” (Y/n) asked, kissing him again.

“Be a lonely, but still a really hot, producer in New York.” He smiled at her. “Or be married to Bret Michaels.”

“Oh, don’t remind me of that.” (Y/n) shook her head. “Okay, I’m getting in the shower. Be out in a bit.” She headed towards the bathroom while Nikki went downstairs to get ready for their guests; Vince and Vanessa with Dean and Samantha, Tommy and his new girlfriend (Pamela had the boys this week), Athena and her new husband, and Mick going solo, as well as (Y/n)’s parents. Tonight was the gender reveal. Nikki and (Y/n) didn’t even know what they were having yet. The doctor had wrote it on a slip of paper and put it into an envelope, which (Y/n) took to the bakery to have a cake made. It was chocolate icing, but inside would either be pink or blue.

About an hour and a half later, the pizza arrived, along with Mick and (Y/n)’s parents. Mick helped Nikki get it all set up while (Y/n) finished getting ready. Vince, Vanessa, and the twins were next, followed by Athena and her husband James, and then there was Tommy, being fashionably late, but no girlfriend in sight.

“She, uh, didn’t want to come.” Tommy shrugged. He leaned over to Nikki. “I haven’t been dating. Don’t tell (Y/n). She worries about me after prison.”

“Well, I wonder why.” Nikki laughed. “It’s cool man. Your secret is safe with me.”

“So, when do we find out what this little sucker is.” Vince asked (Y/n) as she walked past him.

“Once we cut the cake but this pizza smells really good.” She grabbed a few pieces and smiled down at the twins. “You both are just so cute!”

“Well, Dean keeps stealing Sammy’s bow all the time, and Sammy likes to bite.” Vanessa laughed. “Those two are going to be a handful. You think your brother and your husband are the terror twins? I think my little pumpkins here are.”

Conversation flowed throughout the evening, Tommy giving vague answers when asked about his girlfriend and Mick saying he was just fine being single. Vanessa and Vince alternated between feeding the twins and feeding themselves. (Y/n) smiled. This was her family. She never thought in a million years that the most notorious band in metal would be sitting together in her living room, waiting for a gender reveal while making small talk like they hadn’t just been doing coke off of naked strippers about ten years ago.

“Okay guys, are we ready?” (Y/n) asked, standing up. Nikki and (Y/n) made their way to the kitchen, everyone else in tow. The cake sat there, ready to be cut. Nikki handed (Y/n) the utensils.

“Be my guest.” Nikki told her, kissing her cheek. (Y/n) cook a deep breath and cut a piece, laying it out on a plate.

A pink cake.

“We��re having a girl!” (Y/n) gasped, hugging Nikki. “Oh my god!”

“We’re having a girl!” Nikki echoed, holding his wife close to him. He had never dreamed that he would be a dad to a little girl. She was going to be so loved and protected, because she had not only her three uncles in the room who wouldn’t hesitate to hurt anyone who hurt her, but a long list of musicians that Nikki and (Y/n) had befriended over the years.

Nikki and (Y/n) Sixx were having a girl.

****

“I don’t know anything about shopping for girls.” Tommy said. “At least, not baby girls. Big girls though, I can buy for.” Tommy said as they passed by Victoria Secret.

“Vanessa was in charge of getting everything for Sammy, so I’m at a loss.” Vince shrugged.

“I haven’t bought baby clothes since the 1970’s. And I’m pretty sure I was drunk then.” Mick added. Nikki sighed. He should’ve just invited Slash or something to join him on this mall trip. He wanted to start buying clothes for the yet unnamed baby. He might have been going overboard with buying baby stuff here recently. Most people assumed that the mother would be the one going crazy. But not in (Y/n) and Nikki’s case. Nikki wanted everything to be absolutely perfect.

“So, any names yet?” Tommy asked as he looked at a display in the window at a music store. A small poster was hanging in the window, with a picture of him at his kit that said “Tommy Lee Uses Vater”. “Dudes, check me out!”

“Good thing we’re not visiting a music store in the 1980’s. Sober Tommy pointing out every picture of himself would get real old, real fast.” Mick grumbled.

“I should’ve just left you losers at home.” Nikki sighed. They headed into the baby store, looking extremely out of place. Vince had recently died his hair a deep red, Tommy looked like he had been pulled from the hip-hop block on VH1, Mick looked like an old man shopping for his grandchild, and Nikki was in all black with tattoos.

“Can...can I help you?” A young girl greeted them.

“My wife and I are having our first child, a baby girl, and I might be going a tiny bit overboard.”

“Oh, congratulations, well we have a great selection of girl clothes over here,” she gushed and showed him all the latest clothes for baby girls.

Nikki and the guys all looked at all the ruffles and pink around them. “Do you think she’s be mad if I dyed some of this black?”

“I think there’s a store on the strip that has baby clothes,” Tommy told them.

“I guess we can try,” Nikki shook his head, “I’ll buy some of this just in case though. I don’t want her getting mad at me.”

“Man, she is so laid back about this. Compared to Nessa pregnant, she’s pretty chill.” Vince told him.

“And her favorite color is black.” Mick shrugged.

“True,” Nikki nodded. “Then let’s go Crue!”

****

“Look at this onesie!” Tommy called out. “It’s so cute!”

“Yeah, but her dad isn’t the drummer dumbass.” Vince said, smacking the back of his head. Everything in the store was rock based, and Nikki had already found a couple

“Can I get it custom?” He asked. “My uncle is the best drummer in the world type of thing?” Vince found matching t-shirts for the twins. He wasn’t sure if Vanessa would actually put them on the kids, but they were cute.

“Hey, aren’t you those guys from Motley Crue?” A guy asked.

“Uh, yeah.” Nikki said, looking over at him.

“Dude! You guys were so awesome! I got laid for the first time when Home Sweet Home was playing.” He high fived Tommy then headed about his shopping. The guys looked at each other with smiles on their faces.

“Oh man this looks good,” Nikki said as he grabbed a onesie. It was a Motley Crue onesie, black with pink trim and the band's name in pink.

“Get it. I dare you.” Tommy laughed.

“You don’t have to dare me,” he laughed, “I’m getting it”

“Baby Aphrodite is going to be the best dressed baby in all of LA.” Tommy laughed.

“Not naming my daughter after a Greek goddess. Especially not Aphrodite.” Nikki shook his head. “(Y/n) have a few ideas for names. But we’re not certain on anything until we meet her.”

“What? Are you thinking of something like Olive or something?” Vince asked with a laugh. Nikki stayed quiet. “Wait, really?”

“I said that we’ll know for sure when we see her.” Nikki told him again, grabbing another onesie. “But yes, Olive is on the list.”

“Olive Sixx.” Mick said as they bought the stuff and headed out.

“I didn’t say we had a great list. Just that we had a list.” Nikki pointed out. “It’s a work in progress but we still have some time.”

“Ok, dudes I’m starving let’s go eat.” Tommy smiled and clapped his hands together.

“When are you not starving?” Mick asked. Nikki pulled out the little onesie and smiled, running his fingers on the fabric. He was going to be a dad, and he knew he was going to be a better parent than his ever were.

****

“I feel so fat.” (Y/n) groaned as she sat on the couch with Vanessa, watching the twins on the floor. “My feet are swollen, my ankles are the size of an elephant, I’m either sad, horny, or hungry. There’s no in between.”

“Welcome to pregnancy,” Vanessa smiled. “But you look gorgeous. And I bet Nikki can’t get his hands off you.”

“He said that he’s already looking forward to more kids.” (Y/n) told her. “But I look awful. I don’t get where ya’ll are getting this gorgeous look from or whatever.”

Vanessa hugged her, “because you are drop dead gorgeous (Y/n) Sixx!” Vanessa looked to the twins and sighed as they crawled around the small space they made in the living room for them. “Nikki not able to get his hands off you should be proof of that.”

“How are you and Vince doing?” (Y/n) asked. “Last I heard, you were convincing him to get snipped.”

“Well, I’m good with just two. Plus he has his two other kids so four kids for him should be good enough,” Vanessa sighed. “I just don’t want to risk anything bad happening.”

“Nothing bads gonna happen.” (Y/n) rubbed her arms. “And, if you decide you want another set of twins later on, it can be reversed.” She teased Vanessa. She watched as Dean reached out and stole Sammy’s bow, making her cry and try to bite her brother. “Wow, you were right about that.”

“Terror twins! I told you.” Vanessa took the bow from Dean and fixed Sammy’s hair.

“The boys are going to drop a new album soon. I just hope the tour is after the baby comes.” (Y/n) sighed. “Could you imagine me being in labor and Nikki in Europe?”

“That would drive him crazy,” Vanessa laughed. “But aren’t you in charge of scheduling it? Since it’s the label you guys created?”

“He’s not letting me do anything.” (Y/n) sighed. “I think the miscarriage from the 80’s still haunts him. He wants me to take it easy. I’m going stir crazy.”

“Talk to him hun,” Vanessa smiled. “I mean I can understand where he’s coming from but you guys are past the miscarriage point.”

“I know we are, he knows we are, but he’s still scared.” (Y/n) told her. “He’ll still wake up in the middle of the night, pull me to him, and tell me he’s sorry. It’s been years Nessa.”

Before Vanessa could reply the guys came back with bags on their arms. Nikki walked up to (Y/n) and kissed her on her head.

“How are you feeling?” he put the bags down.

“I’m okay.” (Y/n) smiled. “Think I can do some work for the label soon?”

“As long as you don’t get stressed I think we’re ok?” he held on closely to her.

“Nessa! I got some shirts for the twins.” Vince said excitedly. One was blue, one was pink. Both said “I’m cute, mom’s hot, dad’s lucky”. “What do you think?”

Vanessa smiled at him, “I love them and you’re still getting snipped,” she gave him a pat on his cheek before handing Dean to him. “Your son loves to make his sister cry, and your daughter loves to bite.”

“Well, as long as it keeps the boys away, right my little man?” Vince asked, smiling at Dean. Dean gave Vince the biggest smile. Nikki pulled out the small camera (Y/n) had bought him when she found out she was pregnant and snapped a picture of him and Vince. The small camera came in handy when he was on the go.

“Someday we’ll have camera phones. That’s what the guy on TV said the other day. That soon, we’ll have really good cameras and computers in our pockets.” Tommy told them.

“Yeah, but nothing will beat the real thing.” Nikki laughed.

“So, when is the pregnancy photoshoot?” Vanessa asked. (Y/n) looked at Nikki. They hadn’t really thought of it, but (Y/n)’s mom had been bugging her about it so she could send pictures back to Greece. Nikki smiled at (Y/n) and rubbed her back.

“Well, maybe we could plan something out in the backyard with Jett and Ziggy.” He shrugged. “I know they’re just going to love their little sister.”

“But I look like a house.” (Y/n) groaned. “I don’t want anyone to see me like this. It’s bad enough you guys see me like this.”

“At least she’s not throwing stuff at him.” Vince mumbled under his breath.

Vanessa smacked him lightly, “honey, you look lovely! I can help you with hair and makeup.”

“But…” (Y/n) sighed.

“No. It’s going to be great!” Tommy told her. “As long as there are clothes on in the photoshoot, I’ll be happy.”

“Yeah, I was going to do a naked photoshoot to send to your aunts in Greece.” Nikki sighed. “Seriously, where did all the brains go?”

“My little sister stole them.” Tommy said, not sure if he was insulting himself or complimenting her.

“You could always save the naked ones for your private collection,” Vanessa smiled.

“Oh, I already have plenty of those.” Nikki teased.

“Gross!” Tommy called out. “I don’t need to think about that.”

****

(Y/n) sat on a bench, her hands resting on her belly while Nikki snapped the pictures. Ziggy and Jett had posed in a few, but a squirrel ran by and Nikki hadn’t been able to reel them back in. So (Y/n) was going solo for the rest of them.

“Are you sure you don’t want to be in them dad?” (Y/n) called out to Nikki. “I mean, it’s not just me that was involved in this!”

“I could set the timer,” Nikki said as he grabbed his tripod and began to line the shot. “Ok, so everything is set.” (Y/n) stood up so Nikki could run over and wrap his arms around her and place his hands on her belly. Once he got the time set, he did just that. (Y/n) leaned back against him as the camera went off.

“I bet you look very handsome in it.” (Y/n) said with a smile.

“You look better,” he muttered as he kissed her as the camera went off again. They took a handful more pictures before Nikki went to develop them. (Y/n) lounged outside.

“Your daddy and I love you very much sweetheart.” (Y/n) whispered to her belly. “We can’t wait to meet you.” She rubbed small circles and smiled. She had never thought she would be this happy. She looked at the house with loving eyes. Soon, they would have a family there.

****

“Vanessa, my belly feels tight.” (Y/n) told her a few months later. They were out and about for the day while the boys did interviews and made their rounds. “And little miss thing is all over the place. It’s like she’s breakdancing or something.”

“She might be getting ready to come out,” Vanessa gave her a smile.

“You think?” (Y/n) asked. “Nikki will be in a panic if I’m not with him when I go into labor. You know it as well as I do.” She laughed a little.

“Well she sin;t going to come out today, I hope,” Vanessa chuckled. “But it sounds like she’s getting herself in the position to come out.”

“Dramatic, just like your daddy,” (Y/n) sighed. “Gotta make sure you make a big entrance and put on a show, right?” She rubbed at her belly. She looked at he stroller the twins were in. “Nessa, you’ve got to see this. Get the camera from my purse.” She told her. The twins were fast asleep holding hands.

Vanessa grabbed the camera and smiled as she took the picture, "I need to get a copy of this."

"Of course." (Y/n) smiled but then groaned.

“(Y/n)? Are you ok?” Vanessa rushed to her. “Maybe I should call Nikki.”

"She’s mad about something." She rubbed her stomach. "I...maybe we should call. But he's on TV with the boys."

Vanessa pulled out her phone and called Nikki, “Damn it.” she cursed, “It’s going to voicemail.”

"Leave a message and I'll just go on." (Y/n) gasped. "Little lady your daddy will be upset if you come before he gets here."

Vanessa left Nikki a message as she led (Y/n) back to the car, “I’m taking you to the hospital.” she said. “I think they should check you out in case you are in labor.”

"Okay, not gonna argue." They got the twins in the car and headed towards the hospital.

****

"I heard a cell phone while we were on stage." Tommy checked his. "Wasn’t mine."

“It was mine,” Nikki sighed. “This is Vanessa’s number,” he put the phone to his ear. “She thinks (Y/n) is going into labor. I got to go.” NIkki rushed out of the studio before the guys could say a word.

“Didn’t we come with him?” Vince looked at the guys.

"Nikki wait!" Mick called out. "Your our ride!"

The guys all rushed after him and piled into the car. Nikki drove like a bat out of hell to get to the hospital. He tripped over himself as he ran to the nurses station gasping for air.

“Wife… in… labor…. Friend… brought… where?” he gasped.

"Nikki!" Vanessa called out. "She’s in being seen." Just then (y/n) came out.

"Guys?" (Y/n) asked.

Nikki rushed to her voice and went in side, “(Y/n) I’m here. Are you ok?” Nikki rushed to hold her hand. “Is little lady coming out?”

"No not yet. she just is being a dramatic little girl." (Y/n) smiled. "Are you ok?"

"I… you…baby…" he tried to catch his breath. "I got scared I was going to miss it."

"Guess she's running drills." (Y/n) laughed.

“Once I get you home I’m going to have to come up with something so I don’t miss the real thing,” he smiled.

"What if you're on stage or at another interview? It could be on the national news." (Y/n) laughed.

"Then everyone is going to know that little lady is here to rule the world," he caressed her cheek and kissed her.

“So you’re okay?” Tommy asked, sounding a little worried. (Y/n) smiled.

“Yes Tommy. Honestly, just tired right now.” (Y/n) told her brother.

“Little lady wanted to keep us on our toes,” Nikki chuckled a bit. “She’s good, and I about had a panic attack.”

“I’m sorry honey.” (Y/n) told him. “I’m ready to go take a nap. Do you have to go back anywhere?”

“Nope I think that was our last interview,” Nikki looked at the guys who gave him a thumbs up.

“Good. Now which cute guy wants to take me home.” (Y/n) laughed, giving Nikki a smirk.

“Hey,” Nikki pinched her nose playfully. “Only cute guy taking you home is this guy!”

“I said cute. Not extremely handsome.” She smiled and kissed him.

“Hey now. No kissing. Kissing leads to more babies once that one comes out.” Tommy laughed. “Go rest. Who knows when my niece is going to make her world debut.”

“Come on sweet girl,” Nikki smiled. “Let’s get you home.” He led her out to the car. Vanessa kissed Vince.

“How much did he freak out?” She asked, looking at him and the other guys.

“He almost left us at the TV station after the interview,” Vince shrugged and smiled. “How did the kids do with you guys?”

“(Y/n) has a picture she’s going to have Nikki print off for us. But the babies were asleep in their stroller holding hands.” Vanessa to him with a big smile.

“I don’t know why, but I have a feeling that little lady is going to make her appearance at the most inconvenient time.” Mick told them with a shrug.

“Now that's what I want to see,” Tommy said as they all watched Nikki help (Y/n) into the car. “I kind of want to see him freak out when it actually happens… remind me to get the camcorder ready though.”

“Oh, we won’t let him live that down.” Vince laughed.

“Wait, Nikki’s taking (Y/n) home. He was our ride.” Mick told Tommy. Mick and Tommy turned to look at Vince and Vanessa, giving them little pouts and puppy eyes.

“Come on you clowns,” Vanessa sighed. “But that means you’re on baby duty!”

“Hehe, she said duty.” Tommy laughed. Vince handed him Dean. “What’s that smell?”

“That’d be the duty.” Vince laughed.

“WHAT?” Tommy smelled Dean and put him at arm's length. “Dude that is not funny! He smells like one of Nikki’s old pairs of underwear from the Theater of Pain tour!”

“I don’t want to know how you know what the smells like.” Vanessa shook her head. “Give me my son, I’ll change him and you can walk home.” Tommy sighed and looked at Vince. He hadn’t really changed too many diapers, since Pamela did most of that.

“Come on drummer, I’ll show you how it’s done.” Mick grumbled, taking the diaper bag from Vanessa and leading him to the bathroom to help him change the baby.

Forever Tags: @anathewierdo @dekahg @marvel-af-imagines @feelmyroarrrr @nanie5 @imboredsueme @gemini0410 @aiaranradnay @babypink224221 @mogarukes @xxwarhawk @sandlee44 @shatteredabby @caswinchester2000 @supernaturalwincestsblog @lauravic @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @teller258316 @horrorpxnk @tommyleeownsme @marvelismylifffe

Motley Crue Tags: @primal-screamer @waywardprincess666 @twistnet @saint-of-los-angeles @vader-kai @motleyfuckingcruee @sharon6713 @kawennote09 @2dead2function @nikkisixxwiththebass @iamtiber-andtiberismusic @jayprettymuchomw @charlyallise @you-know-im-a-dreamer @sweet-dreams-on-butterfly-wings @estxxmotley @arianareirg @the-normal-potato @nikki-sixxtynine @jjjjjjjoshdun @just-a-normal-fangirl18 @stella20131991 @tarahell @wowilovenikkisixx @i-want-to-shoot-myself @motleycrueee @sams-serialkiller-fetish @getbackhonkycatt @are-you-reddie54321 @flamencodiva @scarecrowmax @major-tom-is-a-junky @anyasthoughts @bandaids-not-groupies @ilovetomkeiferslips @kaitieskidmore1

Nikki Sixx Tags: @daisystuffsstuff @unknownoblivion @deakysblueoutfit @fandomshit6000 @sixx-mckagan

Too Young to Fall in Love Tags: @kingbouji3 @leximus98 @thekidbakerinthetardis @crystalbaby12 @shawnsstxtches @knockemdeadgirl @deansgirl1993 @haileynicoleseavey17

#too young to fall in love #Motley Crue #nikki sixx #nikki sixx x reader #nikki x reader #the dirt #dirt!nikki sixx #dirt!nikki sixx x reader #dirt!nikki x reader #dirt!nikki #fanfiction

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