#stenbrough Sighs

[fawnedloser]

bill being a pet name connoisseur with a new nickname for stan everyday and Stan always rolls his eyes and calls him cheesy but he secretly loves it . aaaand send tweet

[evilbookworm]

23 & stenbrough for the writing promts thing?

Oooh I got you! Sorry this took so long! Wanted it to be perfect <3

23. Love is Stupid.

“Love is Stupid,” is the first thing Bill Denbrough says when his best friend opens the door. Stan raises an eyebrow, amused. “What now?” he asks, curious. “Luh-Love is s-stupid,” Bill repeats, stuttering this time. “Care to explain?” Stan questions, allowing him inside. The house is neat, orderly, clean. Just like Stan. But it’s silent too. Stan’s father was probably at the synagogue, and his mother was mostly likely upstairs, uncaring of anything that went on below her. Stan walks towards the kitchen, Bill trailing behind. The curly haired boy takes out two mugs and starts making tea, not even asking Bill if he wanted any. Bill didn’t mind. Stanley liked routine, and who was Bill to take that away from him? Stan put the tea kettle on the stove and let it heat up. Then, he turned back to Bill, giving him an expectant look. “Muh-me and Audra b-broke up,” Bill says. A look of surprise flickers across Stan’s face, but he quickly recovers. “And why did Audra break up with you?” Stan asks. Bill frowns. “And w-why did yuh-you assume she b-broke up with me?” Stan tilts his head. “Did she not, then?” Bill sighs. “Ok, s-she did! B-but that doesn’t muh-mean you shouldn’t have muh-more faith in m-me S-Stan!” he exclaims, waving his hands dramatically. Stan chuckles, warm and soft. Bill is soothed by it. He’s nervous, suddenly, because he hadn’t quite thought this through. Yes, Audra had broken up with him, but it’d been partially his fault as well. Audra had claimed that he “clearly wasn’t interested” and “wouldn’t even have sex with her”. Which was a little unfair, in his opinion. They’d only been dating a few months, did they really have to have sex already? But what had really hit him had been what she’d said after calling it off. “For fuck’s sake Bill! You’re clearly in love with that bird boy anyhow!” Then she’d stormed off. Bill had been stunned into silence. Him? In love with Stanley Uris? No. He wasn’t…like that. He was straight. But the more Bill thought about it, the more sense it made. The constant need to see Stan, the sense of achievement he felt when Stan cracked a smile, the butterflies. He was in love with Stanley Uris. “Bill? Hello?” A voice breaks Bill out of his thoughts. Stan is in front of him, waving a hand in front of his face. He looks annoyed. “Huh? W-what was that S-Stan?” Stan sighs. “I said, why did she break up with you? You can’t just come over and no spill the tea.” Bill panics for a second, because what is he supposed to say? Maybe he should say it was because of the sex. Or maybe they just didn’t match. Unfortunately, Bill’s mouth ran faster than his brain. “I’m in love with you.” No stutter. No half choked words. Fuck. Stan is looking at him in shock, eyes almost comically wide. If Bill hadn’t just outed himself, he maybe would’ve laughed. “Is this some sort of sick joke?” Stan asks, expression angry yet panicky all at once. “Did Richie put you up to this? I swear that bastard-“ Bill is taken aback. “Wuh-what? No! Stan I would n-never do that to yuh-you,” Bill says, gripping Stan’s hands. “Then why are you saying this.” Stan says, voice taut and head down. Bill thinks for a second. He had two choices. He could say it was all just a big misunderstanding and leave it at that. Or, he could confess his unreciprocated feelings and maybe move on. Bill felt resolve form in his stomach, and he steeled himself. “Because I do love you. I’ve loved you since you made that oath the day we defeated IT. Or maybe I always have, I don’t know. But I love all of you. I love your curly blond hair that looks so, so, soft to the touch. I love your polo shirts and khaki shorts that you iron every day. I love your dry wit and dark humor. Your bird ramblings. I love all of it. And I know you probably don’t love me back, and that’s okay, and i just hope I can still be your best friend—“ Bill is broken off in the best way possible. With a pair of lips pressed against his. Their soft. Delicate. So Stan in every way possible. Bill is so entranced that he almost forgets to kiss back.

But he does. Stan pulls away first, a small smile forming at the corners of his mouth. “You didn’t stutter once,” he says. “Buh-because i meant it,” Bill replies. Stan smiles and kisses him again. Maybe love isn’t so stupid.

[ifyoucouldholdme]

I've finally updated my Stenbrough fic! It's only been 2 years O.o

You Still Have People Who Love You

ifyoucouldholdme

Chapter 2: A Meeting of Friends

Summary:

Another new voice drew his attention as Eddie and a soft spoken young man entered the room. “Mike, don’t run off our new friends before they’ve even sat down, please,” the unfamiliar boy chuckled. He smiled brightly at Bill, an amused glimmer in his eye. Bill noticed something else as well that he recognized behind the warmth in those eyes. A subtle melancholy? Anticipation twinged with pity? Whatever it was struck a familiar chord somewhere in his chest that Bill defensively denied. So this is who’s supposed to fix me? Setting down a bowl of pretzels on the rustic block of a coffee table, the boy hesitantly offered his hand to Bill in a friendly greeting as well. “Hey, I’m Will.” -------------------------------------- Bill prepares himself for a night of socializing.

Chapter Text

“God, Staniel, I though birds had that internal compass thing or whatever.” Stan lightly slapped his phone against his forehead in frustration.

“I’m not actually a bird, Trashmouth. It’s not our fault you’re shit with giving directions. I think we’re close, but it’s literally just trees on this road.”

Although he was also a little frustrated that they had gotten lost on this dark forest road, Bill couldn’t help but chuckle from behind the wheel of his rustic pickup. He always enjoyed the mostly benevolent back and forth Stan shared with Richie. They might as well have been brothers. It reminded Bill of himself and Georgie to a slightly more abrasive degree. Two boys with, let’s face it, distant at best parents, and Richie definitely behaved like a thirteen year old.

Bill took a chance to look away from the darkened path beyond the windshield to gauge Stan’s current level of aggravation. He had to bite back a snort at the sight. Stan’s head rested in defeat against the glove compartment. Richie’s incoherent rambling bubbled out of the tinny speaker phone, followed by the sounds of a scuffle.

“Will you just give me the phone, already?” There’s Eddie, right on cue to save the day and what remained of Stan’s spirit.

“Oh, thank God,” Stan sighed in relief. “Eddie, we don’t know where the hell we are.”

“Did you guys pass by an old church? Big stained glass window, steeple, little cemetery off to the side?”

Stan perked up. “Yes! We saw that a few minutes ago.” He had that sparkle in his eye when he made mental connections in his head that Bill always found adorable.

Although Bill was a little irritated at being lost himself, listening to the chaos of Stan and Richie had distracted him from the growing anxious knot in his gut. Tonight they were meeting Eddie’s friends. He trusted Stan with his life, but he would be lying if he said that he wasn’t a little on edge. The two fought for a couple of days after Stan had first suggested meeting this friend to talk about his familial issues. Admitting his struggles with his parents and his own same sex attractions was a mountain to climb enough when he was trying to open up to Stan or Eddie. How was he supposed to discuss any of that with this new person he’s never even texted? Eddie called him Will, didn’t he? Bill smirked. Two Williams, sitting in a room, both traumatized, both...

Even now he couldn’t bring himself to use THAT word.

A silhouette appeared in the faint haze of a floodlight down the road. Road may be an overstatement. The gravel trail led to a small cabin partially masked by the arms of the sleeping forest around them. “I’m outside, so maybe you can spot it─oh, wait, are you already here?” Eddie’s static laced voice called out from the phone’s speaker as the figure started a hesitant trot towards them.

“I guess we are,” Stan smiled out the window, eyes locked on the figure. Beside him, Bill clenched his jaw and inhaled a steadying breath. You can do this. For Stan.

Stepping inside the weathered cabin, Bill and Stan weren’t sure what to expect. The outside of the structure looked pretty aged, maybe so far as to be called ‘worn down’ if Stan’s more judgmental side had any free reign to speak. However, once through the screen door on the porch, they were greeted with a visual feast of color and memorabilia on display. Stan let himself be led away by a chittering Eddie, dressed in his typical house party sweater vest, but Bill found his curiosity instantly drawn to the eclectic assortment of bookshelves lining the walls of the modest living area. Each shelf appeared to have a loose theme of its own, but nothing quite cohesive enough for him to identify. One appeared to host the owner’s novels. Bill scanned through the spines on that case first. He saw mostly fantasy titles. Lovecraft, Richard Matheson, and Clive Barker sat together opposite the more traditional high fantasies of Tolkien and Sapkowski. If nothing else, Bill was comforted to know he could at least talk about books if conversation grew difficult.

The other displays were adorned with various trinkets and pieces of art. A smattering of miniatures poised for battle spread over the shelves backed by a variety of portraits depicting elves and knights and wizards in oils and watercolors. Bill vaguely recognized the menagerie as Dungeons and Dragons creatures, although he’d never played the game himself. The aspect of crafting a story with other players intrigued him, but it would take a fairly tempting bribe to convince him to commit to joining a campaign.

He eventually came to a curated setting that seemed a bit odd compared to the rest. On top of a narrow side table sat a small framed scrap of paper, crumpled and faded, which sported a crude drawing of what appeared to be a rocket or spaceship, like one out of a child’s storybook. A stream of pastel streaks, or maybe they were cheap crayons, flowed out of the ship’s exhausts in a rainbow bridge of colors fading into a starry night sky. The picture was flanked by two more fantasy figurines in a place of reverence here in this isolated shrine. To the right of the picture sat a wizard made of purple plastic, lost in study over some ancient tome. On the left, a little red knight stood watch over his companion and the ship behind them. He sword remained sheathed, but his hand rested on the hilt, ready for any sudden attack.

“I keep wanting to paint those, but Will says he likes the simplicity of their colors.” The unexpected voice startled Bill forward, his knee ramming into the lip of the little table. It thankfully stayed upright, but the figurines tumbled off its surface and across the wooden floor. Bill immediately dropped to his knees to retrieve them alongside a familiar mop of shaggy curls.

“J-J-Jesus, R-Richie,” he sputtered. “How can s-somebody s-so loud not make any n-n-noise when he w-walks?”

“That’s not me, Billy-cakes.” Bill whipped around to see Richie poised against the kitchen archway, his mouth full of cheese puff crumbles.

Bill blinked. “What...” He looked again to the figure kneeling beside him. An almost perfect duplicate of Richie’s face sheepishly grinned back at him. Although this face lacked Richie’s iconic coke bottle glasses, it was an astounding replica. “Sorry,” the look-alike offered in a softer, restrained tone. “I thought you saw me walk up next to you.” He put out one hand, the other tenderly holding the tiny wizard.

Bill accepted the boy’s outstretched hand helping him to his feet. “T-t-thanks.” Standing at full height under the warm halogen light, this double─well, this Mike─did actually have some differences among the similarities to his childhood friend. Bill noticed that while the mop of darkened locks was the same shade, Mike’s hair fell in more relaxed waves and naturally framed his face. The angles of his jaw cut a sharper profile, but whether this was due to genetics or to Richie’s diet of constant junk food, Bill couldn’t tell.

Another new voice drew his attention as Eddie and a soft spoken young man entered the room. “Mike, don’t run off our new friends before they’ve even sat down, please,” the unfamiliar boy chuckled. He smiled brightly at Bill, an amused glimmer in his eye. Bill noticed something else as well that he recognized behind the warmth in those eyes. A subtle melancholy? Anticipation twinged with pity? Whatever it was struck a familiar chord somewhere in his chest that Bill defensively denied. So this is who’s supposed to fix me?

Setting down a bowl of pretzels on the rustic block of a coffee table, the boy hesitantly offered his hand to Bill in a friendly greeting as well. “Hey, I’m Will,” he said warmly, “I see you’ve already met Mike.” Richie’s double─Mike─set the figurines back in their place and timidly grinned. Bill was too busy staring down Will and his outstretched hand to notice the other man. His thoughts halted like a spooked rabbit, locked in anticipation. That fear of being seen, of being known, rose in his throat. That drop over the curve of a coaster he endured the few times his parents dragged him to the doctor. Someone knows that I’m broken. Someone wants me fixed.

“Bill...” Stan’s voice broke through Bill’s paralyzed front. He shot Bill a concerned glare from behind Will’s shoulder. Will himself smiled patiently, but Bill spotted a familiar anxiety touching the corner of his eyes.

“S-s-sorry,” he muttered, grabbing the boy’s hand, “I’m B-Bill. N-n-nice to m-meet you.” Great first impression there, Billy boy.

“It’s ok,” Will said. The edge of his mouth twitched upwards playfully as he glanced toward the gangly doubles. “Eddie and I also short circuited when we finally got those two in the same room together.” His eyes returned their focus back to Bill’s own, which couldn’t quite read the intent behind his gaze.

“You just can’t handle this much palpable sexual chutzpah at once, Slick Willie!” Richie crooned while tossing an arm around a blushing Mike. His cheeky grin grew even more mischievous upon hearing Eddie’s pained groan.

“I swear to God, Trashmouth. Will was at least smart enough to pick the one doppelganger that knows how to chew with his fucking mouth closed.” The bickering continued to escalate, trapping poor Mike between them. Bill chuckled and turned to Stan, but instead caught sight of Stan and this ‘fixer’, Will, slipping away from the chaos. Just before he disappeared into the next room, his Stan (wait, HIS Stan?) peered back and beckoned Bill to follow with a sideways nod of his head. Bill faltered momentarily from the bounce of Stan’s curls and the sudden possession over the other boy. He stared at the empty archway, now lost in a newfound swirl of questions all blooming from one simple possessive pronoun. There’s no time for that right now. He buried the feeling beneath a shallow haze of denial, at least until he was back in the quiet darkness of his dorm room again later. For now he had to aim his focus to surviving this night that Stan and Eddie had planned.

Bill swallowed a steadying breath and followed Stan and Will through the archway.

[charlesxavirs]

Ohohohoh! Please, if you want to I won't make you I'm sorry- Stenbrough? That's my actual shit and I love it but if you for any reason I will be okay I'm so sorry I'm a literal mess.

okay so i’ve had this written for ages and i’ve tried to expand on it and write more but it’s just never really happened so i might as well just post it. hope you enjoy! read on ao3 )

Stanley Uris considered himself a man of many talents. He could recite well detailed spiel about any bird at the drop of a hat, he had got washing his clothes down to a precise science so none of the colours would even dare to run, and he had to admit that he was quite flexible, although he wouldn’t ever admit that on a first date. Yet, despite his vehement efforts, despite his dedication and despite his might, he cannot get fucking glitter out of his hair. He’s tried washing it, brushing it, even vacuuming it once with Eddie’s careful guidance. He dreads the days when it is inexplicably part of his routine, and he prays and prays and prays that he’ll be able to get it out of his curly locks come bedtime.

He never fucking does, though.

And so, Stan was in a foul mood as he pulled up in the parking lot this morning at precisely five minutes to seven. As usual, he was the second car in the lot and he took the time to count the binders on his passenger seat again before he gathered them in his arms, to make sure he had replied to any emails he had to and ran over his lesson plans in his head before stepping out of the car and making his way towards the staff entrance of the small elementary school.

Just as he had expected, Ben was sat behind his desk at the main office, looking bleary eyed as he sipped at his coffee and flipped through papers that Stan would ask about if it wasn’t so early in the morning and if Ben didn’t look so tired. Stan threw him a smile and waved at him the best he could with his arms full, a wave of fondness washing over him as Ben offered him a bright smile in spite of his fatigue, and he started his trek along the red bricked corridor to his classroom.

Stan had started teaching just four years ago, starting off with Kindergarten kids at Derry Elementary before moving to the fifth grade the year after, and he’s stayed there ever since. His psychology degree was supposed to lead Stan into the world of therapy, yet instead, he got pulled into early years development, which ultimately led to him training to be a teacher. His father was more than displeased at sudden change in career choice, hoping his son would be a hotshot shrink in no time, but Donald Uris had to admit that it was nice to have Stan close to home. He also had to admit that Stan was good at his job.

The kids loved him. They giggled at his sarcastic remarks, groaned at him whenever he set homework and were unafraid to come to him with their 10-year-old problems, seeking his fair judgement and level headed advice. Yes, Stan Uris loved his kids dearly, he even admitted to shedding a tear here and there when his classes finally left for middle school, and he’d be damned if they weren’t going to grow up in a safe and loving place. The thought of packing it in and walking the career path his parents had hoped he would pave after college was a tempting one when he came home with stack after stack of homework sheets and essays and school books, but the way the kids eyes would light up when they saw his neatly written praise on their last homework assignment was more than enough to quash the idea. In short, Stan loved his class, and his class loved him.

Stan pushed open his classroom door with his shoulder and blindly searched the cold wall with nimble fingers until they settle on the light switch, and he flooded the room with the white, artificial glare of the ceiling lights. He walked the well known path to his desk at the front of the room, reaching down to pick up a stray pencil by his chair after he set his folders down on the clutter free table. He took pride in his classroom, keeping it clean and tidy at all times. An untidy working space means an untidy mind, his mother had always told him, and he very much believed it to be true.

Over the summer, he had spent a full day painting new displays on the walls, changing the colour scheme of the room from light yellow to sky blue, penning sparrows onto the walls with help from Richie. All of his pencils had been sharpened, papers organised, glue sticks neatly stacked and reading books tidily arranged on shelves.

“You’re like Mary Poppins when she does all that clicky shit.” Richie had astutely commented, trying to snap his fingers for added effect, but he somehow ended up punching himself in the face.

Stan wished Richie took the same pride in his own classroom instead of giving Stan shit for doing so himself. Richie was content to replace the framed picture of Bill Nye above his desk with an updated snap and buy a new board pen every year. He loved his friend dearly, but he often wonders how he even became qualified to teach, considering he was a health hazard on legs, always tripping over chair legs or barely skimming the children’s faces when he got too animated with his hand movements. Stan had been teaching for a year longer than Richie had but he had known Richie all of his life. In fact, Stan likes to credit himself as the guiding force for getting him off his ass and into the workforce.

It had been a Sunday, when they were both Juniors at UCLA, and Stan was putting the finishing touches to his project for his Primary Education class. He was sat cross legged on the floor of his cramped apartment, blasting Abba, the ground in front of him covered in newspaper as he dabbed his project delicately with his one dollar paintbrush and paint. Everything was peaceful in the world of Stan, that was, until Richie bounded through the door in a whirlwind of neon colours and unruly hair, already speaking at one hundred miles per hour.

“Stanley the Manley, you’ll never believe what the fuck just happened. So i’m sat there, enjoying my weekly Dorito date with that weird guy down the street and- what the flippity fuck is that?”

Stan looked up at him, carefully setting his brush down on the newspaper and moving curls out of his eyes, following Richie’s gaze down to his project, standing sturdily in front of Stan.

“It’s homework.” Stan said, stretching his stiff arms above his head. “It’s a fish.”

Before he knew it, Richie was kneeling on the floor next to Stan, eye to eye with his papier-mache creation, staring it out with trepidation in his gaze.

“So I’ve gotta do a shit ton of consumer research just to have the chance to grace the airwaves, but all you’ve gotta do is make a fish?” Richie whined, sitting back on his heels and pouting at Stan. He reached out his hand to touch, but Stan quickly swatted it away before leaning back down to apply another coat of purple paint to his aquatic masterpiece.

“If you’re that bothered, why don’t you train to become a teacher, Trashmouth.” Stan chastised, ignoring the ‘humph’ that escaped Richie’s as he watched him paint. Stan never actually expected him to do it. He had turned up at Stan’s door almost a year to the day later, holding a handmade dog, wearing a bowtie and donning a kippah on over its curly ears. Stan had answered the door with a hand on his hip, eyebrow raised. Richie had only grinned, his cheeks turning red with the force of him holding back a laugh at his own joke.

“It’s a Cocker Staniel.”

Stan slammed the door in his face.

And now here they were, almost five years later, Richie running late as usual and Stan dreading the looming presence of glitter on his Thursday morning.

Parent-Teacher conferences were the bane of Stan’s existence. He held two every year, one in October while the kids were relatively new in the class and one later on in the year, normally before they left. Usually, the parents didn’t care at all or seemingly cared too much, berating Stan for things as trivial as how he worded homework sheets to the way he dressed. The sheer stress of such things meant that Stan spent the short hour between school ended and his first appointment with Eddie, the school nurse, drinking juice boxes with an ice pack held securely to his head while they chatted aimlessly and watched reruns of Judge Judy on the room’s shitty TV set. This year, though, was going to be the first time he’d handle the parents smoothly and professionally, and he certainly wasn’t going to have a breakdown in his store cupboard afterwards. No way.

He heaved in a sigh, revelling in the slight burn of his lungs as he drank in the air. It was getting closer to half past now, and Stan finally started to get into gear, setting up for the day, refusing to look at the offending vials of metallic crap until he had to. It was 8:55 when Richie finally pulled up outside, fifteen minutes later than he usually was, and he didn’t even afford himself the luxury of mithering Stan as he sprinted down the corridor, hands full of boxes and slammed his classroom door behind him. Richard Tozier was well suited to be a second grade teacher, Stan thought, considering he was a second grader himself.

He opened his door at 8:59, only just making it back to his desk before the whiny ring of the school bell flooded his ears and children started to walk through the door, unbuttoning their coats as they bid him good morning, groaning as they saw what Stan had written on the whiteboard, and Stan couldn’t help but smirk. If they were going to destroy his classroom and his life with pipe cleaners and glitter glue, he was going to make their brains explode with maths.

--

Stan was sticky by the time 4:30 rolled by. In an effort to make his class a bit more cheerful, he had allowed them to make name tags for their books and work so their parents could easily identify them that evening. He hadn’t, however, thought it was such a good idea when Timothy Jones had walked into him with a full pot of PVA glue, subsequently spilling it down his neatly pressed chinos, covering them in a shiny, brown stain that was going to be a bitch to get out. He couldn’t possibly greet parents looking like there had been an oil spill on his trousers, so in a last resort to gain some semblance of put togetherness, he went knocking on Richie’s door.

“Woah there Stanley,” he grinned as he cut what looked like a melted dinosaur out of a piece of blue card, adding it to a pile of similarly drawn jurassic creatures. “Looks like someone didn’t make it to the can in time. Say, I didn’t know you were into watersports.”

Stan didn’t dignify him with a response, instead sighing and muttering a halfhearted ‘Beep Beep’. “I don’t suppose you’ve got any pants, have you?”

Stan should have known to fear the worse as Richie’s face lighted up with mirth and he spoke to Stan with his Southern Belle drawl.

“Well, Sir, I surely surely do.”

And that’s how Stan ended up sat behind his desk, listening to parents talk about their kids as if they were the only ones on the planet, wearing a pair of hot pink yoga pants that barely fitted him, never mind Richie.

(“Where the fuck did you get these?” “They’re Eddie Spaghetti’s. I-” “Never mind, I’d rather not know.”)

He nodded empathetically as they talked about their children, resisted the urge to roll his eyes as they told him how to do his job, but under no circumstances did he stand up from the table. Propriety be damned, he didn’t want to be fired for public indecency.  He was almost done at five minutes to six, his schedule closely adhered to, and if all went well, he’d be in bed by seven. He only had one appointment left, and he let himself relax in his chair, straightening his papers and ticking off names as he waited.

Five minutes passed. And then ten. And then fifteen. It was quarter past six, and he was still waiting for his last appointment to turn up. A pang of annoyance gnawed at Stan. He had been preparing for this for over a month and the parents didn’t even have the decency to listen to him talk about their own kids, for God’s sake. Huffing, he started to pack away, stuffing sheets back into their binders when a ball of emerald and auburn and brown came charging through the door with a small boy in tow.

“I’m so s-sorry, I thought Noah’s mother was coming instead.” the man groaned, panting as he ran a hand through his son’s hair.

He quickly caught his breath and made his way in front of Stan, offering him his hand to shake. If Stan wasn’t so annoyed, he would have noticed the way his blue eyes sparkled or the warmth of his touch or the way his mouth quirked as he spoke. But Stan was irritated, so instead he shook the man’s hand and refused to look at him as he pulled his sheets back out. Stan quickly realised, though, that Noah was stood next to his father, grinning up at Stan.

He quickly softened, smiling back at the boy. Noah was a boisterous member of his class, yes, but he was polite and was quiet when Stan needed him to be and often had an amusing anecdote about his Aunt Bev and Uncle Georgie. Noah Phillips-Denbrough was a good kid, and Stan liked him very much.

“Hey buddy.” he greeted as Noah waved back, his grin widening as he shot back an exuberant ‘hi!’, almost shaking as he gripped to his father’s arm.

Looking at the pair now, Stan could obviously see the family ties. He had had a few dealings with Audra Phillips, and from what Stan could gather, she was a reserved woman who only seemed to speak when she was spoken to, quite unlike her son, who was rowdy to say the least. While Noah had inherited his mother’s swarthy skin and tightly coiled locks, it was easy to see his father in him. Their eyes both lit up in the same carefree way when Stan looked at them and the smile on their faces seemed to be permanent. That, and the blue hue of their eyes were almost identical. While Stan knew divorce often made kids shrink into themselves, Noah had done anything but, and he thinks Mr. Denbrough had been part of the reason why.

“Sorry we’re so late, Mr Uris.” Noah beamed, no evidence of regret traceable on his face, and Stan’s grin involuntarily widened.

“Don’t worry about it Noah.” he said, throwing him a wink that made the young boy dissolve into giggles. “Hey, why don’t you go and finish your drawing from today while I chat to your dad?” he suggested, and Noah didn’t have to be asked twice before he was sitting at one of the rickety desks and scribbling away.

Stan turned his attention back to the man in front of him, cutting him off with a wave of his hand as he tried to speak again, probably to apologise again. “Why don’t we get started, Mr Denbrough.”

“Bill, please.” he insisted, and the smile on his face had Stan repressing a blush.

“Okay then, Bill,” Stan didn’t miss the man’s chuckle, “Let’s talk about Noah’s progress so far.”

In all fairness to Stan, he was completely professional from there on in, only making eye contact when appropriate, never letting himself stray from the topic of Bill’s son, and he certainly didn’t let himself get excited when Bill pushed the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his elbows. Stanley Uris was a paragon of a teacher, answering questions thoughtfully and easily. So what if Bill’s appointment lasted twenty minutes longer than it should have, it’s not like Stan was counting.

It went so well, however, that Stan had ignored one huge, almighty, dirty big fat flaw. He had completely forgotten that nothing good ever happens to him, and sooner or later, it was all going to go tits up. Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait long for it to happen.

“Thanks a lot for seeing us, Mr Uris.” Bill had a smile on his face and his voice was dripping with an appreciation that had Stan blushing.

Stan waved his hand in front of him, turning to smile at Noah, who was once again glued to Bill’s side. “Thank you guys for coming.” He shot him a small wink, making the boy beam up at him.

When he turned back to Bill, there was a look clouding his piercing eyes that Stan couldn’t quite decipher, yet it made the warmth on his cheeks deepen further, and before he knew it, Bill was standing out of his chair, arm out in front of him to shake, and Stan was following suit.

He only realised what a huge fuck up it was when Noah burst into fits of giggles.

“Mr. Uris why are your pants pink?” he squeaked out in between laughs, clutching onto Bill’s arm to hold himself up.

Stan’s cheeks burned now, and he was pretty sure you could see him in the dark with the intensity of his blush. He glanced at Bill out of the corner of his eye, surprised to find that his cheeks were the colour of his pants, and he didn’t miss the way his eyes ran over Stan’s somewhat scantily clad legs.

He cleared his throat, the deep bass of his chuckle reverberating in Stan’s chest as he pushed a stray strand of auburn hair from his eyes. “The pink suits you.”

All Stan could do was limply shake the man’s hand, squeak out a pathetic goodbye and usher the pair hastily from the room.

He let his head fall with a thunk against the pink painted door as he shut it closed behind them. Stan had prided himself on keeping himself composed for the past five years, no matter how hard it was. He had people complain about him when his shirt sleeves were too short or when the amount of time designated to reading was deemed ‘questionable’. The way Stan was feeling now had to stop. Yes, he’d had crushes before, but never on a parent. It was hard enough for him being gay in Derry, it was even harder to try to be so and teach at the same time. The last thing he needed was a silly schoolboy crush to come along and wreck the order he’d created.

So, Stan did what he usually did when he’s had, what he’d consider, a stressful day: go home, eat a shit ton of ice cream and watch Say Yes To The Dress until his eyes melt.

Thank God it’s Friday.

[ur-not-reddie]

sahlo folina

a/n: ahhhh!! it’s finally here!! the reddie fic i’ve been talking about for weeks! i want to give a huge H U G E thank you to sunny, @sunshinereddie , for heping me out with this process! he helped so much with my motivation and confidence <333

pairing: reddie and background stenbrough 

*modern day au, summer of their sophomore year in college* 

*smut and heartbreak warning*

-

“Fuck,” Eddie moans, throwing his head back, nails digging into Richie’s chest as Richie grips Eddie’s hips bruising tight. Richie slams Eddie down on his cock, finding the smooth rhythm between his thrusts up and Eddie’s downs. 

“Cum!” Richie demands with a growl, grabbing Eddie’s throat and pulling him down so their faces are only millimeters apart. 

“A-again?” Eddie asks brokenly between his loud mewls. 

“I think I made myself pretty clear, didn’t I?” Richie’s eyes flood completely black, growing hungrily with pure lust and desire. 

“Yes, sir, you d-did.” Eddie’s cheeks tint cotton candy pink, his legs start to quiver as he cums. Pleasurable tears gliding down his face. Richie rolls Eddie’s hips forward, letting out a broken moan as he cums inside of him - something he’s always loved. He loves the possessiveness it brings. 

“Good boy,” Richie praises as he frees Eddie’s throat. “You’re such a good boy for me, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir.” Eddie nods confidently, wiping some drool off of his chin. 

Richie smiles lazily, kissing Eddie’s lips as he pulls out slowly, Eddie whimpering softly in disapproval. Richie hushes him, walking to the bathroom as he wets a warm cloth and walks back to the room. 

“You’re so pretty,” Richie murmurs as he gently cleans up his lover, then himself.

“Nooo,” Eddie says in a sing-song type tone, forcing his smile back by pouting. 

“Oh, don’t give me that,” Richie chuckles lightly. “You know you are.” he raises his brows, getting halfway dressed and lays back down next to Eddie. Eddie sits up, eyes scanning his room when he spots Richie’s sweatshirt and throws it on. 

“I love you, you know that?” Richie whispers. 

“I love you too,” Eddie grins, laying back down. 

Richie rests his head on Eddie’s stomach, Eddie’s fingers combing through Richie’s hair as they’re about to drift off to sleep. They’re both nearly there, then are startled awake by the slam of a car door. 

“Shit,” Eddie shoots up, his anxiety already flooding his veins. “You have to go!” Eddie starts to push Richie out of bed, grabbing the rest of his clothes and shoving them into Richie’s arms. 

“Eds, it’s f-”

“Go!” Eddie shouts softly as he hears the lock on the door turn. 

Eddie opens his window quickly and helps Richie out as fast as he can then shuts it. He climbs back into bed, facing the wall to help the illusion of him sleeping, which Sonia does fall for. Eddie sighs deeply the moment he knows his mother is gone. This time it’s not euphoric tears filling his eyes, it’s terrified ones. 

Eddie’s not sure how long he’s sat and stared at the wall. Hours? Probably. His body feels numb, but all of his thoughts hurt. This is the ninth time that they’ve nearly been caught by his mother and he just can’t do this anymore. Why can’t his mother be like Richie’s? She doesn't care! She adores it! 

He loves Richie, a lot, his mind can’t fathom it. But his love for Richie isn’t enough to stop the fear of them being caught. Eddie puts on regular clothes and slips on his nearest pair of shoes. He makes up an excuse, saying he’s going to Bill’s house - which isn’t entirely a lie. 

Eddie trudges his feet against the cement, dragging his numbed-out body to Richie’s front porch. His fear is so strong, he can’t handle another situation where they’re almost caught. And that’s when Eddie makes the biggest mistake of his life. 

Richie opens the door, a smile on his face which quickly fades as Eddie breaks up with him. 

“Why?” Richie’s voice shakes.

“I’m just… I’m sorry.” 

“Please don’t do this,” Richie begs, voice cracking more as tears are stinging his eyes. His knuckles turning white from gripping the doorknob tightly.

“I’m really sorry, Richie.” Eddie sobs, head hung low, body jerking with each cry. 

“Eds?” Richie tries hopefully, forcing a weak smile to front, only for Eddie to stand there silently with bloodshot eyes. 

“I need to go,” Eddie half-whispers, taking a step back. 

“No!” Richie’s surprised by his own yell. “You can’t go, y-you just can’t.” Richie lets his tears flow, unable to hold it back. “I can’t do this on my own. Eddie, please.” 

“Richie?” 

Eddie can hear Maggie’s faint voice in the background, her silhouette coming closer and Eddie takes off down the street. Richie starts to run after him, but quickly halts himself, tears clouding his vision of Eddie running away. 

“Please…” Richie drops to his knees, the asphalt definitely leaving burning bruises, but it’s not enough to mask the pain in his chest. 

Richie stays there for a few minutes, sobbing, hoping Eddie will turn back around and tell him it’s all a sick joke, a prank - something! He eventually makes it to his feet, bolting inside and throwing himself into his mother’s arms, sobbing harder. 

“Richie?” Maggie asks again, her tone tender as she hugs her son back just as tightly. 

“Eddie broke up with me,” Richie’s words are muffled due to his face buried in his mother’s shoulder. 

“What? Why?” Maggie pulls away from the hug, just slightly, so she can see Richie’s face and hear him clearer. 

“I don’t know,” Richie takes off his glasses so he’s able to wipe his tears. “H-he didn’t say why,” Richie breathes shaky breaths. “He just called it off, apologized and ran away with no explanation.” he throws himself back into his mother’s embrace. 

“Oh, Richie…” Maggie sighs, her heart aching for her son. “Come on, let’s get you inside.” she leads her son from the front door to the couch, wrapping a blanket around his slender frame.

“Do you think he still loves me…?” Richie’s voice breaks as more tears come. 

“Definitely. I know he loves you. I can see it .” Maggie grabs Richie’s hand comfortingly. “He looks at you like you put all the stars in the sky, hand painted the phases of the moon.” Richie can’t help but crack a slight smile, only for it to quickly fade as fast as it came. 

“But.. if he loves me, why did he do this?” Richie bursts into tears once more. “I don’t get it, I don’t understand why…” Richie snatches a pillow that’s sitting next to him, screaming into it. 

Maggie scoots closer to her son, adjusting the blanket better as she rubs his back. She’s never seen Richie so heartbroken and gloomy. She’s had her fair share of failed relationships, but nothing like this, and she’s unsure of what to do which makes her insides flame with… shame? No, that can’t be it - but something like that. Right?

“I… I think I need to be alone.” Richie stands to his feet, lazily walking his way up the stairs and to his room. He grabs his phone, no notifications from Eddie. Usually by this time they’d be streaming Netflix together - watching a shitty, cheesy movie and making fun of it. Richie tosses his phone across the room, screaming more into his pillow until he eventually falls asleep. 

-

Eddie’s vision is completely blurred as he makes his way to Bill’s house. Luckily for Eddie, his feet know the path so well that he doesn’t even need to see. He stomps up the driveway, nearly tripping as he knocks on the door wildly until it opens. 

“Eddie?” 

“Georgie?” Eddie asks with a sniff. “Where’s Bill?” 

“He’s out with Stan. Are you okay?” Georgie asks with much concern, noticing Eddie’s hysteria. “Do you want to come in?” Eddie nods, more tears coming. “What happened?” 

“I think I just made the biggest mistake of my life,” Eddie plops down on the couch, covering his face with his hands. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Georgie offers sweetly as he sits down next to Eddie. Eddie sits there in silence for a few minutes, trying to control his tears but failing. 

“I…” Eddie finally says. “I broke up with Richie.” his hands covering his mouth now as a whimper escapes. 

“What? Why?” Georgie asks with much surprise, sitting upright. 

“I just,” Eddie sighs, trying to find the right words. “I don’t know.” is all he can manage to say. 

“But you were so happy with him,” Georgie states. 

“I know, I know!” Eddie breaks all over again. “I don’t know why I did it. It was so fucking stupid of me!” 

Georgie pulls Eddie into a hug. Granted, Georgie is quite a bit smaller, but he still engulfs the other. Eddie’s not sure how long he’s embracing Georgie, but he doesn’t really care either. Georgie doesn’t let go until Bill walks through the front door. 

“What’s going on?” Bill asks in a drawn out, puzzled tone, dropping his things. 

“You need to talk to him,” Georgie gives pleading eyes. 

Bill motions for Eddie to walk to his room and he does so. Eddie is trying to think of what to say, trying to jumble up any type of words to try and describe how he feels. As Eddie walks in, he runs straight towards the giant teddy bear that’s sitting in the corner of Bill’s room. Stan got it for Bill during their first Valentine’s Day together, but it makes for a great snuggle buddy. 

“Eddie, what’s going on?” 

“I’m stupid is what’s going on,” Eddie mumbles into the soft, fuzzy stuffie but Bill’s still able to understand. 

“You are not,” Bill reassures lovingly. 

“You’ve known me basically my whole life! You know it!” Eddie groans into the teddy bear. 

“How about I make us some hot chocolate, you change into some of my spare pj’s and we’ll talk, hmm?” Bill suggests as he helps Eddie up and off the floor. 

“O-okay,” Eddie wipes his eyes as he lets out a tiny yawn - so much emotion for his little self. 

Bill makes the drinks like promised while Eddie changes into Bill’s spare clothes. He’s so thankful for a best friend like Bill, he’s always been there for him, no matter what. When Bill returns, he hands the warm mug to Eddie with a broken grin. Eddie grabs it, his eyes saying ‘thank-you’, as he blows on the hot liquid. He stays quiet for quite a while, his drink half gone when he decides to speak again. 

“I think I’m just scared,” Eddie admits. 

“Scared of what?” Bill asks, tilting his head to the side, like a puppy who hears a squeaky toy. 

“I’m not really sure,” Eddie furrows his brows as he takes another drink, the hot cocoa at the perfect temperature now. “I think my mom… myself?” Bill waits for Eddie to elaborate. “My mom has almost caught us multiple times and that just scares me so much.” an anxious sip now. “I know my mom would fucking kill me. Or kill Richie first and then me.” Eddie’s lips crack a quick smile. “And I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, never felt this was about any girls. It makes it feel like something’s wrong with me.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Bill moves closer to Eddie. 

“But there is! I’m not normal!” Eddie groans as he plops on his back. 

“And what’s normal, exactly?” Bill lays next to him, turning his head to the side to look at the other. 

“I-” Eddie cuts himself off, deep in ponderation. “Not me,” 

“That’s your mother talking,” Bill wipes away Eddie’s tears before they can fall. 

“I, I’m just not sure if the fear I’m feeling is a close relative to truth, or just simply a rival.” Eddie sighs, meeting eyes with Bill. 

“It’s a rival,” Bill confirms gently. Eddie sighs deeply, not really believing it. 

“I’m just.. - a complete idiot!” the wave of tears wash over Eddie’s face all over again. 

“Trust me, I felt the same thing for a very long time”. Bill grabs Eddie’s hand comfortingly. “For as long as I can remember, I have always liked girls. Though, that part of me is still true, I always had the question in the back of my mind if I like boys or not.” Bill explains, swiping hair out of Eddie’s unfocused vision. 

“How did you figure it out?” Eddie asks with a small hiccup. 

“I just simply let myself feel it,” Eddie raises a curious eyebrow at Bill’s words. “It’s a part of myself I can’t change, so, I felt it and that’s what helped me figure it out.” Eddie hums, staring off into the distance as his mind starts to process. “There’s absolutely no harm in loving someone,” Bill squeezes the other’s hand gently.

Eddie sighs softly, Bill’s words giving him a hopeful undertone. It’s quiet, but Eddie’s thoughts are so loud he swears Bill can hear them too. 

“It’s just so scary…” that seems to be the only thing Eddie can think clearly about. 

“Eddie,” Bill closes his eyes tightly, trying to break through to him. “Don’t stop yourself from being happy. I know your mother treats you otherwise, but she’s wrong, not you. You deserve to be happy and love who you love without the weight of her.” 

Eddie lets Bill’s words sink in more as sleep takes over him. 

*

The next four weeks drag on. Four weeks that Eddie could easily mistake for years. He’s spent most of his time at Bill’s house. If he isn’t crying, then he’s sleeping. All the mix of intense emotions at once is too much, too much that all he wants to do is sleep it away. He’s never felt something so deeply before. When he’s awake, and thinking, it feels like he can’t breathe. It feels like there’s this heavy weight on his heart that’s affecting the rest of him. He’s fatigued, exhausted, numb. He feels lost. He’s never gone this long without talking to Richie. He’s definitely made a big mistake, but he’s too scared to fix it. 

Richie, on the other hand, is dealing with it somewhat similarly. He’s hurt, upset, confused, but mostly angry. He loves Eddie more than he’s ever loved anything, and he’s so perplexed as to why he’s gone. Just left with hardly any reason - and that’s what makes this more difficult. He’s spent a lot of his time talking with Maggie, who’s giving him the best advice she can. She doesn’t know what it’s like to have a same sex relationship, but she does know how it feels to have her heart broken by a boy. He’s also spent a lot of time with Went as well. And just like Eddie, Richie’s tears flow just as often. 

*

“Do you think he still loves me?” Richie sniffs, playing with the loose string that’s falling off of his sweatshirt sleeve. This is a question Richie asks nearly everyday. 

“I do,” Maggie says confidently as she scoots a bowl of soup across the table to her son. 

“But, if he loves me, then why did he do what he did?” Richie just doesn’t understand such thing. 

“I don’t know,” his mother sighs. “I wish I had an answer for you. I really do.” 

“He hasn’t talked to me in weeks…” Richie blows on his spoon that’s full of soup. 

“Have you tried reaching out?” Maggie asks as she makes herself some tea. Richie shrugs at her question. 

“I don’t know what I’d even say. Plus, I don’t want to make the situation even worse.” 

Maggie sits back down, conversing with Richie about other things to distract his mind until both Richie’s bowl and Maggie’s mug are empty. Richie decides to join his father in the living room, watching one of his favorite comedic movies. 

-

Some time later, Richie meets up with Beverly to have their weekly smoke session. 

“I just really don’t know what to do,” Richie blows out smoke. “Can I even do anything at all?” flicking his cigarette, taking another drag. “I mean, did I do something wrong and not realize it?” 

“I don’t think you did anything wrong,” Beverly shakes her head, voice comforting. 

“I just don’t fucking understand any of this,” Richie slides down to the ground, crossing his legs as he sits and puts out his cigarette. 

“I don’t either, but I have a good feeling it’s not over.” Beverly smiles as Richie chuckles in disbelief. “I’m serious!” Richie punches her arm lightly in response, laughing more. “You’re gonna be back together, I know it. Again, trust me, I’m psychic.” she winks at Richie, joining him on the ground. 

“Yeah, okay, whatever.” Richie rolls his eyes playfully. 

“You’re meant to be together, everyone can see that.” she shoves Richie back lightly in revenge. 

“But, we only have one month of summer left before we all go back to college. What if he doesn’t talk to me for the rest of the summer?” Richie hangs his head low, feeling defeated. 

“But you don’t know that, summer isn’t over yet.” she points out as she rests her head on Richie’s shoulder, enjoying the sounds of nature. 

-

“What?!” Eddie raises his voice. “Georgie! How could you?! I was going to win and you knocked me back to the fucking start?!” 

“Sorry,” Georgie giggles, completely embodying the game name. Eddie grumbles as Bill is sat on the couch laughing his ass off. 

After Georgie wins, they decide to end after seven rounds. They order Japanese food and gather into the living room and begin to rewatch the Harry Potter series. When the first movie ends, Bill decides to ‘invite’ Stan over, so Eddie bolts straight to the bathroom to shower first. 

He does so quickly so he can save the warm water for the other’s as well. So thoughtful. As he dresses and towel dries his hair, he hears Bill’s door open, turning around to see not Stan. Eddie’s eyes go wide, speechless. 

“Oh,” Richie says, also stunned. “H-hi, Eddie.” 

“Hey, Richie.” Eddie says softly. 

“You two are going to stay in here until you figure things out,” Bill catches both of their attention and shuts the door. 

The two stay silent for a good amount of time, neither knowing what to say. They can’t even look at each other. Richie almost feels like a stranger and that’s the strangest thing ever. He hates this. He hates what he’s done. 

“I want to say I’m sorry, but I feel like that’s not enough.” Eddie finally crumbles the silence. 

“Did I do something wrong?” Richie’s voice quivers.

“No!” Eddie shouts a little too loudly, startling the both of them. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “It’s me, not you. I promise none of this is because of you.” Eddie finally meets eyes with Richie. 

“Well, can you tell me what’s going on then?” Richie asks as gently as he can. 

“Promise you won’t be mad?” Eddie gives pleading eyes. 

“I promise,” Richie scoots close enough to Eddie to cup his face. 

“I’m just scared. I got so scared of my mom almost catching us multiple times. I’m a bit scared of myself because I feel wrong. I feel like I should like girls as everyone else does, but I don’t. It’s just boys, only boys and-” Eddie buries his face in his hands as he breaks down. 

Richie immediately pulls Eddie into his arms in a tight embrace, resting his cheek on top of Eddie’s head. He lets Eddie cry it out, he knows Eddie needs a good cry sometimes before he’s able to speak and think rationally. It feels so good to have Eddie in his arms again, they felt more than empty without Eddie in them most of the time. Richie even lets a tear slip out of his own eye. 

“I feel bad, I hate what I did and I regret it. I hate that I let my fear get in the way of what we had. I hate that I got in the way of my own happiness…” Eddie speaks into Richie’s chest. “I’m so sorry,” 

“Oh, Eds,” Richie hugs him tighter. “It’s okay. I understand, I really do.” he never wants to let go of Eddie. “I just wish you talked to me about it instead of running away.”

“I know,” Eddie cries a bit more. “I wish I did too.” Richie tilts Eddie’s chin up so he can dry Eddie’s tears. 

“Will you talk to me next time?” Richie gives a soft smile as Eddie nods his head. 

Richie leans down and plants a soft kiss on Eddie’s lips. God, he’s missed his lips so much. He’s missed Eddie so much. A big part of him felt like it was missing when Eddie suddenly left. And now, it’s all so perfect again. The kiss lingers on for many moments until the two need air. 

“Can we go?” Eddie asks with a shy smile. 

“Already, huh?” Richie smirks, raising an eyebrow. 

“Oh, shut up!” Eddie giggles. “I know you’re dying as much as I am.” 

“I am,” Richie’s smile grows as he grabs Eddie’s hand and leave Bill’s house - Bill knowing it wasn’t going to be too long after he locked them both in the room. 

The drive back to Richie’s was nearly unbearable. The two can’t even keep their hands off of each other. Eddie is so tempted to give Richie head who’s in the driver's seat. He knows he shouldn’t, so he decides to fight the urge, it’ll make it even more rewarding when they get back anyway. 

Went is overjoyed when he sees Richie and Eddie walk hand in hand through the front door. He calls Maggie down immediately to see the wonderful news that’s laid before their eyes, her exhaling in relief. 

“Eddie,” she smiles as she pulls Eddie into a hug; a hug that he’s been longing for if he’s honest. “I’ve missed you!” she squeezes him tighter. 

“I missed you too,” Eddie half-whispers, closing his eyes, resting his forehead against her shoulder. 

“It’s good to see your face around here again,” Went smiles, chuckling as Eddie also hugs him, Richie sitting back with adoring eyes. 

“Okay, okay!” Richie giggles as he grabs Eddie’s arm and gently tugs him to his side. “It’s my turn now.” and leads him upstairs, Maggie and Went knowing exactly what Richie means by that. 

“They’re wild,” Maggie rolls her eyes playfully. 

“Rowdy,” Went adds as they head back off to the living room as Richie and Eddie steam their way upstairs, a mess of giggles. 

Richie enters his room, closing the door and slamming Eddie’s back against it, a loud gasp escaping Eddie’s mouth. Richie wastes no time and crashes his lips against Eddie’s. A moan escapes from Eddie, buzzing against Richie’s lips. Richie presses his body against the other’s smaller frame. He pulls back for a split second, a quick breath then becoming one again. 

“Richie,” Eddie moans louder as Richie attacks his neck in deep purple bites and bruises. 

“You’re never leaving me again. Do you understand me?” Richie growls, gripping at Eddie’s throat somewhat roughly. 

“Y-yes, sir.” Eddie tries his best to keep his voice steady, legs wobbly and weak. 

“You’re stuck with me,” Eddie nods at Richie’s words, biting his lip. “Knees. Now.” 

Eddie drops immediately, opening his mouth out of pure instinct, looking up at Richie through his lashes. He watches as Richie slowly strips himself from his jeans and boxers. Eddie reaching up a hand and wraps it around Richie’s cock, pumping him in a medium-like pace. Richie hums softly, tangling his fingers in Eddie’s hair. He shoves Eddie’s mouth all the way down on his cock, Eddie gagging only out of mere surprise. Another smirk on Richie’s face as he keeps repeating the actions of rough and slow paces. 

“Even after all this time, you’re still so good, hmm?” Richie starts thrusting as well, drool dripping from Eddie’s bottom lip to the floor. “Look up at me,” Eddie locks his teary eyes with Richie’s black and lustful ones. 

Few minutes later, Richie cums in Eddie’s mouth, Eddie swallowing all of it, of course. Richie takes off the rest of his clothes then removes Eddie’s, laying his back on the bed. He climbs on, hovering over Eddie, making his cheeks burn red. 

“I think I should have my fun with you, shouldn’t I?” 

“Mmhm,” Eddie nods again. 

“Words!” Richie’s demanding voice booms. 

“Yes,” Richie raises an eyebrow at that, waiting for Eddie to continue. “Sir…”

“Good,” Richie smiles in satisfaction. 

Richie opens Eddie’s bedside drawer, pulling out all of the toys he wants to use on him. Eddie watches, eyeing every single toy Richie’s taken out - his mind melting as it goes wild. 

“I want to make you helpless,” Richie states as he cuffs Eddie’s wrists to the bed, blind fold following after. 

Eddie’s heart starts to pound rapidly in his chest, it’s been so long since him and Richie fucked, let alone something extremely kinky. But, Eddie isn’t complaining at all, not even a little bit. 

Richie starts off by peppering soft kisses to his jaw, neck, chest and stomach. Every kiss, every breath is more intense, electricity shooting through his body as he can’t see. Richie ghosts his finger down Eddie’s hard length causing Eddie to shudder as he spreads his legs further. 

“So desperate, aren’t you?” a taunting tone. 

“V-very,” Eddie stutters, turning his head in different directions, trying to pinpoint where Richie is, trying to use his voice as direction. 

Richie falls silent, his actions too. He grabs the lube, slicking up his fingers and sneaking one inside of Eddie. Eddie gasps, bucking his hips as he tugs on the restraints. Richie pumps and pumps, adding a couple more fingers. Moans so loud everyone else can definitely hear. 

“Such a slutty, slutty little kitten.” Richie pulls his fingers out. 

“Only for you,” Eddie whines at the emptiness. 

“That’s what I like to hear,” Richie hums as he slips a vibrator inside of Eddie, turning it on the medium setting. Eddie screeches, wanting to pull on the bed sheets, but he can’t. “It’s so good to hear your beautiful sounds again,” 

“More! More!” Richie turns the setting up all the way at Eddie’s demand, which he’d usually be punished for. Eddie is full on screaming this time, Richie keeping his hips pinned to the bed. “P-please! Please, sir!” Richie knows what he’s begging for. He gets him close, a split second to cumming, then leaves Eddie empty again. “Fuck!” Eddie throws his head back in frustration. 

After a few more merciless rounds, Richie decides to stop as he’s starting to get desperate himself. He gives Eddie back all of his senses, smiling at the pleasurable tears in Eddie’s eyes. Perfect. He presses soft kisses on Eddie’s cheeks before turning him around face down, ass up. He wastes no time, grabbing Eddie’s hips and sinking his cock all the way in him. 

“Fuck,” Richie breathes heavily. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” Eddie moans in response, this time they’re muffled by the covers. Richie makes sure to pound into Eddie’s sweet spot with every move of his, making Eddie cum over and over and over again. 

Richie lays himself back, pulling Eddie back into his arms. Eddie closes his eyes, wrapping his arms tightly around Richie. Richie speaks to Eddie softly, telling him how much he loves him, how life is better with him; more colorful. His world. Eddie speaks back, eyes still closed, falling asleep mid-sentence.

[ddproductionsw77]

Sorry

Fandom: IT (2017)

Pairing(s): Stenbrough 

Characters: Stan Uris and Bill Denbrough

Rating: T

Description: “Sorry.” Sorry I’m not brave. Sorry my nervous tick is tidying things. Sorry you have to deal with this. “Don’t be.”

Author’s Note: This is the REVISED version of Sorry!

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“If we get caught I’m blaming you.”

“W-we’re not going to get c-caught,” Bill sighed contently and shifted closer to his boyfriend, eyes closed. 

Stan watched him, taking in every inch of the other boy’s easy smile and relaxed posture. The sun streamed in from Bill’s bedroom window, sprawling across the wood floor and up onto the very bed they laid in, face-to-face. 

Eyes trailing down, the corners of Stan’s mouth twitched as Bill played with his fingers, lacing them with his own and tracing patterns over his palm. Bill had the hands of a writer, of an artist. Spindly, long fingers with ink staining the skin randomly, calluses in places were pens and pencils had been held for hours. The familiar fit of them helped to relax Stan.

He sighed, sounding more resigned than anything, “Both our parents are right downstairs.”

The Uris’ had been invited over for dinner because Bill’s mother, Sharon, had been feeling particularly friendly lately. Andra, Stan's mother, and she had been friends as far back as college and had an on-and-off friendship throughout their sons' lives. 

Sharon went through times like this, where she’d become the ideal, nurturing mother for about a week or two before falling back into a slump of disinterest that would last for months. Bill’s father, Zach, just went with it, as did Bill.

“So?”

“So,” Stan rolled his eyes, nudging Bill’s shoulder, “They could come looking for us any second and if they do, they’ll find us—“

Bill’s eyelids slipped open, the electric blue of his irises derailing Stan’s train of thought. Part of him hated how easily Bill could disarm him… most of him loved it. Quirking an eyebrow, the other boy finished, “C-cuddling?”

“Exactly,” Stanley mumbled, hating himself for popping the little bubble they’d been occupying for the last half hour. 

Bill’s hand slipped down Stan’s arm, running over the other boy’s side and around his back, tracing his spine as he tugged him closer. Their breaths mingled. Stan felt his heart pounding in his chest and reached out to rest his palm over Bill’s to feel it flutter in sync. 

“Who cares?” Bill muttered, purposely tilting his head so that his nose brushed against Stan’s. A stray curl from the boy’s head tickled his forehead and he smiled wider, “C-cuddling is what boyfriends do.”

Stan sighed, using his hand on Bill’s chest to push himself up into a sitting position, “And that’s my point, Bill. As far as my parents are concerned, we’re not boyfriends. We’re—“

“F-f-friends,” Bill scoffed, sitting up as well, “I re-remember.”

Casing his gaze down, Stan’s gut twisted and he grimaced. He began carefully straightening the rumpled sheets on Bill’s bed, trying to distract himself from the guilt welling up within. 

He knew that Bill didn’t like keeping their relationship a secret. He knew that Bill only went along with things being that way because it was how he wanted things. He knew it wasn’t fair. He wished he could be as brave as his boyfriend, willing to share his feelings with the world. He hated that he wasn’t.

A hand came up to rest over his, gently stopping him from continuing his nervous tick. Stan followed the limb back up to Bill’s patient expression and understanding eyes. Cheeks flushing, his own eyes darted away, “Sorry.”

He didn’t know what for really…

Sorry I’m not brave.

Sorry my nervous tick is tidying things.

Sorry you have to deal with this.

Bill shook his head, a corner of his lips curling into an endearing half-smile, “D-don’t be.”

He leaned forward and Stan allowed the tension in his body to deflate as Bill’s lips met his and his eyes fluttered closed. His mind — his rushing, screaming, whirling mind — grew quiet for one sweet, blessed moment as he kissed Bill back. 

His hands came up, weaving into the feather soft locks on his boyfriend’s head and he hummed in contentment. Right before Bill pulled away, Stan felt him smile once again against his lips. Bill always seemed to be smiling; Stanley loved and envied it.

“We can do suh-something less boyfriend-y?” Bill proposed, raising his eyebrows as he stood up and moved to the large box television his mother and father had practically tossed at him for his birthday a year ago. They’d forgotten it until the day before… the TV was their apology. “I can k-kick your cute ass in Super M-Mario if you w-want?”

“Shut up,” Stan rolled his eyes, snatching the second controller from Bill’s hand. “You don’t stand a fucking chance, Billy.”

“G-game on, Stanny,” Bill laughed, setting the game up.

They began to play, becoming more and more competitive with each level. It was a little ridiculous in the broad spectrum, considering they were technically on the same team, but that did not stop them from battling over power-ups and who got to deliver the killing blow to Bowser.

“And Princess Peach is mine!” Stan cried triumphantly. He laughed, giddily, “You know, I actually like her tiara.” He spun around to grin smugly at Bill. 

The other boy stared at him with a blank expression for a moment before huffing, “I’m br-breaking up with you.”

Stan watched as Bill stood up, dropping his controller back to the bed, “I won’t share the tiara if you break up with me.”

“Keep your f-fucking tiara,” Bill rolled his eyes but Stan could hear the light tone in his voice and see him fighting back a smile. 

“Well,” He shrugged, “I mean if you don’t want to share…”

He was silenced by Bill coming to stand in front of him, grasping his face and kissing him. They fell back onto the bed together, limbs and bodies tangling together with the sound of their laughter. 

Stan’s brain slowed once again to a peaceful pace as Bill’s lips trailed down his jawline to his ear, his boyfriend’s breathy chuckles and his own heartbeat the only sounds that existed in the world at that moment. He ran a hand over Bill’s arm, taking in that feeling of pure electric charge that came with being in contact with the boy he loved. 

Bill was the light of Stan’s life. He was Stan’s favorite thing. He made the world a better place. He made life worth living even on the days when Stan didn’t want to get out of bed. He was the motivation to keep moving, to keep trying to do good. 

And Stanley loved him so much for it.

The young writer pressed one last kiss to Stan’s collarbone, moving to hover above the other boy with a teasing smile. His eyebrows drew together when he noticed Stan’s wide eyes, “What?”

Blinking to clear his spellbound brain, Stan shook his head slowly, “I just— I really love you, Billy. I know I make things hard for you sometimes but I really do — love you, I mean. Thank you for, you know, putting up with me.”

“Y-you don’t make things hard for me,” Bill rolled his eyes before carefully sweeping down to quickly kiss Stanley once again. Returning to his previous position, he bit his lip, “And I don’t put up with you, Stanny.”

Stan felt himself blush furiously, looking away with a half-hearted shrug, “Still, thank you. I mean it. I can’t tell you how much you mean to…” He trailed off, suddenly embarrassed by his own confession. God, he must sound so pathetic and needy. 

Cool lips pressed against his hot cheek while a thumb ghosted over the other. Bill’s scent of paper and ink filled Stan’s head as eyelashes tickled his skin. When the other boy spoke, he spoke slowly, carefully pronouncing each syllable so as to not stutter over the words, “Shh, I know. I love you, too.” 

Stan’s eyes slipped closed as he reveled in that beautiful declaration and in the dizzying feeling of being in love and being happy and relaxed for once in his life—

“Bill! Stanley! What are you two up to?! Dinners ready!” Sharon Denbrough’s voice came up the stairs, jolting both boys back to reality. 

Bill stood up quickly, helping Stan up. The boy immediately began righting his wrinkled clothes as Bill ruffled his head to get it back to its natural look and not the rumpled mess Stan had made it.

He cleared his throat, glancing apologetically at Stan before calling back, “C-coming, Mom!” Reaching out, he fixed Stanley’s collar that had popped up, “To b-be continued?”

Stan rolled his eyes, cursing the blush that graced his features, and nodded, “To be continued.”

[antisociallilbrat]

Kaspbrough & 11 and/or Stenbrough & 17/19 ilyyyyyy

Read on Ao3

Pj I see all those other prompt requests and I will use them, eventually.

Also this #11 "You can't save me" for Kaspbrough

Rating: G

The story of Bill and Eddie was simple. They have been in love with each other since they were old enough to understand the concept of it, Bill got drunk one night in college and confessed his feelings, and they dated, happily, for the next seven years.

After everything they’ve been through, the sewers,  IT,  of course, they fell in love. Eddie still had nightmares, but Bill didn’t know that. Eddie never screamed during them, instead just laid there, frozen with fear, convinced he could still smell IT’s rancid breath breathing down his neck. He’s had nightmares for years, they never stopped for him, but he’s  managing.

Bill thrashes in his sleep when his mind is racing with a new nightmare. Just like he is tonight. He’s cold is the reason he wakes up, the blanket is off of him. When he looks over at Bill, he realizes Bill must have kicked their blanket.

Sweat has broken out across Bill’s skin, his nightshirt is damp and stuck to him under his armpits and at his neckline. His hair is plastered to his forehead and he looks like he’s in pain as his head twists and turns against his pillow. Bill’s hands are clenched in fists at his sides, twisting back and forth near his waist as if he was ready to lash out and punch something.

Gently Eddie shakes Bill awake, ready to jump back if Bill jolts out of the bed, as he’s done before. “Billy you gotta wake up.”

Bill doesn’t budge so Eddie shakes him a little harder, finally causing Bill’s eyes to shoot open. He sits up and bewilderedly scans the room, looking for the clown. His shoulders and back are tense, but they always are. Bill is always prepared for an attack.

Eddie has asked Bill repeatedly to talk about his nightmares over the years, to no avail. Bill feels the need to protect Eddie, even from his own mind. Much to Eddie’s annoyance.

After realizing that no leaper is lurking in the shadows, Bill relaxes just a little. Eddie sighs and gets off the bed, padding into the kitchen to get Bill a glass of water. He accepts the glass with a small ‘thanks’ and takes measured sips of it, trying to get his heart rate back to normal. Eddie sits back on their bed and waits until he’s done.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks him.

“No.”

Yeah, he could have guessed that answer. It’s hard to not get annoyed at this point. Bill is twenty-seven years old and after seven years together, he still won’t talk to him! Eddie rolls his eyes and pulls the blanket back on him, rolling over so his back is facing Bill.

Bill doesn’t say anything when he curls up behind Eddie, spooning him. He’s oblivious to Eddie’s annoyance, as always. Eddie lets Bill pull him so his back is flush against Bill’s chest. Usually, this would easily lure Eddie back to sleep but tonight he’s just glaring at an offending lamp across the room.

Wiggling out of Bill’s arms he sits back up, looking down at a confused Bill. “Why can’t you talk about it?”

Bill sighs and places a hand on his arm, “Puh-please Eddie,” he pleads, “I duh-don’t want to tuh-talk about it.”

That gets Eddie out of the bed. He doesn’t know why he’s so angry but he  is.  “But I do. You never talk to me! Not really, not about anything serious!” he grasps the sides of his head, “It’s like you treat me with little kid gloves, Bill!”

He regrets saying that the moment it’s out.

Bill looks even guiltier than he usually does and Eddie feels like there's a hole in his stomach. He tries to speak, opening his mouth but then shutting it a few times, his stutter starting to get the best of him. He takes a deep breath and tries again, “I duh-duh-don’t mean to, I’m suh-suh-s-sorry.”

Eddie deflates, “No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn’t mean that. It’s just that sometimes, sometimes it feels like that. Especially when you won’t tell me what’s going on in your head, what you’re remembering,” tears start welling up in his eyes, “I just want to help you.”

After what they went through, what that fucking clown put them through, there’s no way to really help one another but they still  try.  All the losers try to be there for one another, but Bill isn’t even letting him do that.

He sits up and brushes a stray tear off Eddie’s cheek, kissing him softly on the forehead. When he pulls back he looks into his eyes, and those baby blues remind Eddie of all the days he’s spent getting lost in them. “Eddie, I need you to luh-listen to m-me,” he says so steadily,  “You can’t save me.”

His immediate reaction to shove against Bill, “Bullshit!” he protests, “How dare you tell me that! After all the time I’ve watched you help the other losers, help me, trying to save us from ourselves! Don't you  dare  tell me I can’t try to do the same for you!”

“Eddie please,” he pleads.

“No Bill! Will you just please talk to me!”

Bill doesn’t say anything for the longest time, his face sad and tired. The bags under his eyes have only gotten worse. He expects Bill to say something, but all he does is lays back down, on his side of the bed, and tries to go back to sleep.

Eddie stares in disbelief for a moment, but when Bill doesn’t move, he leaves their bedroom. The couch is uncomfortable and bad for his back, so the next night he makes sure Bill sleeps on it.

A/N: I needed a break from writing other things. Here you go Pj, I'll let you decide if Bill and Eddie are fine after this.

[musical-broken-heart]

Mental Breakdowns and Hair Cuts

Ships: Henry/Patrick side Reddie and Stenbrough

Age: Bowers=16 Losers=13

TW: Slurs, Panic Attacks, Self Harm, Mental Breakdowns, Abuse

Clenching his fists he fell to the floor sobbing. Holding himself he curled up next to the bathtub slowly his hands found his hair and he tried pulling it out of his scalp. 

He needed to die! All he did was hurt people but he couldn't help himself. He needed to get his anger out and he didn't want to talk about it nor did he want to hurt his friends the only people who cared about him. 

The past few weeks he had the same nightmare of Patrick going into the sewer and being eaten alive by a monster made of fear itself. That same monster possessed him in his dreams and made him kill Oscar and his friends. He hated his father but he would never think of killing him. He may have been abusive but he was all Henry had after his mother just left. He normally woke up screaming drenched in sweat the vivid image of his friends in the car their necks slit their blood on his hands and Patrick decaying next to him still haunting him. 

He was weak. He was a faggot. He needed to die! Death scared him. Thats why he never cut deep. Thats why he mended his own wounds before he could bleed out. Standing up he looked in the mirror seeing his bloodshot eyes and tear-stained face. Grabbing the scissors he started cutting off his mullet. Once he cleaned his new hair cut to look like a professional had done it he looked in the mirror again hoping to see someone new only finding a broken boy staring back at him. 

"Henry get up! Get your ass to school!" Oscar yelled. Henry didn't think twice before putting the sweater on and throwing the hood over his head. Running out of the house he walked to Vic's house as normal both waiting for Belch to come to get them. 

"I remember watching you cut the hoods off all your sweaters," Victor said not moving his eyes from Henry and the black sweater. "That sweater looks a few sizes too big for you are you sure it's yours?" he asked his blond hair falling over his eye. "Why do you care? I found it in my roo- house!" Henry growled. Victor was a smart kid who could figure anything out if given enough time. 

"It's Patricks isn't it?" he asked causing Henry to go red. "Yea he left it at my house I was cold and all my sweaters are cut up so I just borrowed his jacket! Shut up!" Victor smiled and hummed nodding his head. "He may be a sociopath but once he realizes that's his jacket he's gonna get a boner." Vic laughed as Henry started coughing. "Why the fuck would you say that?!" Henry asked leaning over trying to get a breath. 

"Get in assholes!" Patrick yelled as Belch drove up. "Where'd you get the jacket?" Belch asked getting the middle finger from Henry. Victor giggled and leaned over whispering like a little girl at a sleepover. Belch smiled and smirked at Henry who blushed harder. Thankfully Patrick ignored the situation. But Belch had to say something. "Hey, Pat what happened to your jacket?" Henry glared at him. "I think I left it at Henry's," Patrick said not bothering to look at his friend. Henry sighed and slouched down in relief. 

Patrick looked over realizing Henry was wearing the jacket. It was too big for him causing him to look like a child. Patrick blushed and started to laugh so Victor wouldn't notice. "You look like a drug dealer in my jacket Puppy!" Henry rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Whatever Hockstetter!" 

Pulling into school the four walked only for Henry to get pulled aside by a teacher. "No hoods in school Henry!" 

Groaning Henry took the hood down but refused to meet anyone eyes. "Whoa, your old man finally get sick of the mullet?" Victor joked pulling his friend close patting his back. "Shut up!" Henry growled pushing his friend away. "Hey, Bowers finally cut that fucking mullet? About time!" Richie shouted getting Eddie to shush him. "Shut up faggot! You should really listen to your faggot friends and keep that stupid mouth shut!" Henry yelled. Stan stepped forward and pulled his friend back. "What's your problem asshole?!" Henry chuckled and grabbed Bill. "Your faggot boyfriend and his stupid stutter is my problem! Along with all your faces!" he said pushing Bill ontop of Stan. 

Belch and Vic chuckled ready to grab one of the Losers but Henry stopped them going to their lockers. "Where'd Patrick go?'' he asked leaning against his locker. "Don't know he rushed off when you took the hood off. Said he had some school work." Belch said getting Henry and Vic to look at him. "What? OH!" he said realizing what he said. "I'm gonna go look for him," Henry mumbled starting to walk away. 

Looking around the hallway someone covered his mouth and pulled him into the bathroom. "Why did you do it? Do you like to torture me Puppy?" Henry sighed and shook the boy off him. "I don't know what you're talking about!" he hissed. Patrick grabbed Henry's wrist and pulled him close curling his fingers under the smaller boys chin lifting his face up. With his other arm, he wrapped it securely around Henry's waist keeping him close. "Don't you seeHoney? I love you!" he whispered bringing their lips together. Henry's eyes widened and tried to pull away but only ended up being pushed against the wall with no hope of escape. 

Patrick slowly pulled away and arm still wrapped around Henry to other on the wall next to Henry's head. "Patrick get off of me." Henry tried to yell but ended up sounding defeated. Patrick smiled and started attacking the boy's neck causing him to moan. "You look so hot with short hair," Patrick said starting to run his hand under the sweater causing the leader to squirm and whimper. "Patrick! Stop! You-you, don't know what love is! You're fucking psychotic!" Henry growled once again trying to push his friend off him. 

Patrick pulled away looking hurt grabbing Henry's wrists and pinning them above his head. "I'm not a psychopath! I'm a high functioning sociopath. Honey, you should know this." Henry shivered and tried to move his legs but Patrick caught on and pressed his knees against the boy's legs. "I know enough about love to know that the first time I saw you standing with Victor under that pine tree and my heart tried to leave my chest I would die for you. Kill for you!" Patrick whispered in Henry's ear. 

Henry bit his lip and looked at the floor. "Pat. You might know what love is but I don't." Patrick sighed and brought his lips to Henry's again this time he stopped. "I don't want to rush you Puppy," he said softly. Henry smiled and connected their lips this time the kiss was sweet and soft. "Should I grow out a mullet?" Henry asked. "Don't! You look like a sweetheart with short hair. You also look really hot in my sweater!" Patrick said getting a chuckle from Henry. "Thanks for forgetting it, Pine Tree. My dad would have killed me. Probably wouldn't compare to last night." Henry said going for another kiss but Patrick pulled away. 

"What do you mean compare to last night?" Henry realized his mistake and laughed. "D-did I say that? I meant um. Compare to the abuse some kids get definitely not me?" Henry said quickly. Patrick growled and pulled away from Henry who pulled him back kissing him. "Honey I have to go kill your father. I can't have someone hurting you." Patrick said between kisses. Henry moaned into the kiss his arms around Patrick's neck. "Pat! I can't have him die!" Henry said as Patrick slowly grabbed his legs lifting him up. "Why not Honey? He's hurting you." Patrick said. 

"I've had dreams," Henry whispered as Patrick moved to his neck again leaving marks. "Tell me about them," Patrick said. Henry moaned in delight his head falling back. "You die. By a creature made out of fear. It possesses me a-and I kill Vic and Belch and my old man." Henry said. Patrick stopped kissing the boy and held him closely. "Puppy look at me. It's okay. I'm not dead I'm right here." Patrick said holding Henry closely as the leader shook. "You alright honey?" he asked lifting the boys head. 

"Pat. What are we?" Henry asked looking to the side. "If you want we could be boyfriends?" Patrick said getting a small nod from Henry. "God I love you!" Patrick said starting to kiss the boy again. Running his hands on his waist he slowly moved down to his thighs getting a small yelp from Henry. "You started cutting again," Patrick said. "I-I never stopped. It helps me get passed, my dads beatings." Henry whimpered. "Puppy promise me you'll stop." 

Henry nodded and kissed Patrick again. "Pine Tree I have to get to class!" Henry said pulling away. Patrick grabbed him and wrapped his arms around the boy. "I have to go, darling!" Henry whined kissing him. "Miss one day of classes for me!" Patrick said getting a sigh from the boy. "I can get Belch's keys to the car." Henry groaned. 

Patricks POV

A few weeks ago I left my sweater at Henry's. I knew it was in his living room so I went over while his father was out to find the house empty. Walking into Henry's room I found him sleeping and not wanting him to wake up finding me staring at him I looked in his closet quickly. Sighing I turned back to the bed finding his arms wrapped around a blanket. Chuckling I went to leave before looking back seeing it was my jacket I forgot. Blushing I turned around and quickly left. 

Getting outside I stood on the porch and ran my hands through my hair. Goddamnit, he was hot! I went home but I couldn't get him out of my mind. Groaning I fell onto my bed burying my face in my pillow. Maybe if I try hard enough I can convince my parents to move. 

The next few weeks went by and Henry wore my sweater. It was too big for him causing him to look like a drug dealer. "Whatever Hockstetter!" he growled his face red. Turning my focus back to the window I smiled. 

A teacher told him to take off the hood and I didn't think twice about it. Glancing at him I quickly looked at him again. He no longer had a mullet and damnit he was hot! "Uh I-I think I have s-some school work to um to work on." I stammered out to Belch only getting a nod from him as Henry started yelling at Richie and the other Losers. 

Quickly walking to the bathroom and leaned against the sink looking in the mirror. My face was a bright shade of red and my eyes dilated. Groaning shook my head trying to get Herny off my mind. He hates fags and finding out his friend was gay for him! 

I walked out and saw him looking for me. Grabbing him I pulled him into the bathroom. I don't know what came over me but I confessed. I kissed him! He didn't get mad. "Patrick stop! You-You, don't know what love is! Your fucking psychotic!" he said. I stopped and looked at him. It hurt hearing him say that. Shaking my head he was wrong! I might have been crazy but I still knew that I loved him. I saw tears in his eyes but I couldn't tell if he was sad angry or happy. "You might know what love is. But I don't," he said softly looking to the side. 

I don't want to rush him. He's gone through a lot. He smiled softly and kissed me. Starting to make out he chuckled thanking me for leaving the jacket. I knew about his father being cruel but I thought he had stopped the abuse. "I'm going to kill him!" I growled out loud. Henry's eyes widened and he shook his head. "N-no! I need him! You can't kill him!" he said quickly surprising me. I nodded and held him close. "Please Pat!" he said tears starting to roll down his face. 

Dreams. He explained how he had nightmares about me dying. A monster eating me in the seers then making him a puppet killing the others. Kissing him I went to lift his legs and he let out a painful groan. "Puppy you started cutting again?" he shook his head. "I-I never stopped," he said looking ashamed. Trying to get to class I stopped him. "Skip one day. For me?" I said kissing his neck. "I can try and get the car keys from Belch." 

In the car, he sat on top of me kissing my bare chest while I kept my arms tightly wrapped around his naked torso running my fingers through his now short hair. "You like to bite don't you puppy?" he rolled his eyes and started for my neck leaving more marks. "Mmm stop moving so much!" he mumbled starting to kiss my lips. 

Getting a tighter grip on him I like his lips asking for him to open which he did instantly letting me have dominance. "Something wrong Puppy?" I asked. "Just tired," he replied kissing me again. I hummed in response exploring his mouth again with my tongue. Moaning into the kiss I sat up causing him to almost fall off the seat. 

"You two better not have had sex in my car!" we heard someone say. Breaking from the kiss Henry whined in protest and glared at Belch who just laughed. "Does this mean I get to sit in front?!" Victor asked joy in his voice. Henry let go of me and grabbed the sweater putting it on and jumped in front. "Keep dreaming Vic!" he said only getting an annoyed groan from the boy. 

"You misses the entire day of school and you're saying you didn't have sex?!" Belch asked getting a nod from Henry. Driving to his house he got out and started walking to his door. "Wait! Don't leave just yet." I said watching Henry walk in and close the door. "Pat I'm sure your new boyfriend is fine." Belch said glaring at me. "I'm gonna go get my sweater back anyway," I said getting out of the car walking to the house. 

Henry stood still in the entrance of the house shaking visibly. Oscar was walking around shaking his head breathing heavily. "Hey, Pat the door locked?!" Victor yelled I only shook my head getting him and Belch to run over. 

"Why the fuck are you like this?! You are a damn mistake and I think it's about time I got rid of you!" Butch yelled slapping his son across the face. "You gotta lot of nerve coming home wearing a faggots sweater! Coming home your hair like that! You are a failer!" he yelled again. 

Victor had covered his mouth his eyes wide and Belch looked ready to kill the man. "I thought Henry said the beating stopped?!" Victor whispered. "He lied. He told me they just weren't as bad." I replied trying to figure out how to get in without him getting hurt more by my presents. "Clearly they aren't as good! They seem to be worse! What are you doing just standing out here?! You are his boyfriend!" Belch said also in a quiet tone knowing the gravity of the situation. Opening my mouth I stopped hearing Butch speak again. 

"I never should have stopped you from killing yourself!" he growled causing me to snap. I opened the door and ran to Henry grabbing him and pushing him over to Victor who held him. He looked between all of us confused but didn't fight back. "Oh so now the faggot needs some protection, does he?! I'll shoot him right here and not give a shit what happens!" he yelled pulling out a gun pointing it at Henry. 

"Butch your drunk!" Belch yelled trying not to start a fight. Glaring he pulled the trigger and Henry let out a scream of pain falling to the floor holding his side which was now bleeding. "You asshole! You shot your own son!" I yelled swinging at him. Stumbling back he held his face and pointed the gun at me and Belch but Victor grabbed it from him pointing it at him. Vic's hands were shaking but he tried to steady them. Butch growled and lifted his hands ready to hit one of us but he didn't. 

Henry had his arms wrapped around his father as if trying to stop him, tears rolling down his face. "Please." he sobbed quietly as his father looked at him stunned. "Please no more pain! Just one day without any violence. Please father. I don't want this life anymore so please stop!" he begged his voice only full of sincerity. Butch sighed and turned around to fully face his son who was still bleeding out. "Sometimes. You can be so much like your mother. Which is why I stopped you from killing yourself. You don't have the heart of a killer. Victor!" He said getting the boy to jump. 

"Give me my gun! Get the first aid kit in the kitchen. Huggins, Hockstetter! Start getting Henry's things. First thing tomorrow you're moving out." Henry's eyes widened and he smiled hugging his father who stepped back and hesitantly hugged back. "I might as well be a good father once in my life!" he mumbled pulling away and leaving. Victor grabbed henry and pulled off the sweater and shirt and started mending at the gunshot. 

"I think I might need to see a doctor," he mumbled glaring at his side. I walked over to him and sighed in relief seeing him smile a little. "Your sweater kinda got a little bloody. Sorry." he laughed. I shrugged and hugged him. "HEY! Stop moving! Patrick! I'm trying to mend his wound and you aren't gonna become a Disney princess and sing away the blood!" Vic hissed getting me to hold my hands up in surrender. 

"Henry! What do you want me to pack?!" Belch yelled form the boy's room. Henry looked over his shoulder and slapped Victor away getting a glare from him. "I'm not done patching you up!" he growled getting a shrug from Henry. "NO! I'm going to mean you up then you can walk around then you can sit in a hospital bed!" Victor said grabbing the leader. "Okay mom!" he said rolling his eyes. 

"Okay there!" Victor said after a few minutes. Henry shot up and ran to his room. "I NEVER SAID YOU COULD FUCKING RUN AROUND!" Victor yelled after him knowing his friend would ignore him. "You better listen to Victor before he hurts you more," I said holding Henry close to me. "Pine Tree can I stay with you?" he asked kissing my neck. "Yea I suppose you could spend a few nights over at my house." I joked getting him to chuckle a little. 

"Thanks, Pine Tree." he smiled. I rolled my eyes and kissed his forehead. "Whatever Puppy."

[lolokidss]

Stenbrough #25

Stan: alright sweetheart, what do we say when someone disagree with our opinion?

Bill: homophobic

Stan: *sighs*

Stan: for the fifth time, Bill, no-

[trashmouthkid]

you writing something w stenbrough would literally create world peace

Anon I was so flattered I gave stenbrough a shot just for you <3

Bill’s new creative writing course in the romance genre was kicking his ass. He didn't think a 2000 level course in his junior year of college could kick his ass, but it was.

It was the “romance” part that he so got hung up on—these just weren’t the love stories he knew. Not the love stories that seized his heart at three in the morning and made him want to tell. If someone were to have asked him if he'd ever been in love, he might have said yes. Once. So long ago I can't recall a face or a name.

But nobody asked him if he'd ever been in love. Instead, they asked him when the last time he got laid was. You don't need great love, a girl had told him on their way out of class, hands outstretched in a sort of frenzied manner, you just need great sex. 

And the answer to that was: before he started rooming with Stanley Uris.

He’d known Stanley for the better half of fifteen years, since they were kids, and had seen him at his best—breezing through the lows of high school—and had seen him at his worst—tripping out of his window and getting caught sneaking out after curfew.

Rooming with Stan was the first time, however, that Bill was seeing him at his most naked—in his underwear doing crosswords in the morning, or wrapped in a small towel fresh out of the shower in the afternoons between classes. Bill had been so startled by the prospect that he'd have to salvage some shred of consideration for an old friendship, he'd completely missed the part where Stan wasn't a woman.

But if he made Bill feel like he could write sonnets (and he did), what did that matter?

There really was no right way to broach that subject—not that Bill had the patience to give it more than five minutes of thought—and so on a particularly sunny Tuesday afternoon, as Stan was getting dressed for his evening classes, he turned around in his desk chair and said: "Soooo, heyyyy. Have you ever b-b-been with men before?"

Stan, who'd grown used to college-era Bill's odd company and conversation starters, could only manage to smile with intrigue as he reached the top button of his shirt. "What's this about?"

Bill shrugged. "I mean, it's college," he said. "Isn't n-n-now the time to like, experiment?"

"You are such an English major," Stan said with a sigh. "Aren’t you like, supposed to get drunk at a party, recite some poetry, and then go make out with a stranger? Instead of hitting on your roommate."

"That's presumptuous." Bill smiled, wrapping a hand around the back of his chair and resting his chin on top of his knuckles. "Wh-wh-who said I was hitting on y-you?"

Stan raised an eyebrow. "Bill, I know you," was all he said as he reached for his jacket. He slipped it on and then paused before fixing Bill with a curious look. "Is there something else?"

In the disconcerting silence that followed, Bill mulled over the truth of it—which was not as simple as he wished it was. Amidst being the pinnacle of Bill’s curious hormones and wandering eyes, Stan was also the remnant of a lost love story. The only one Bill ever knew or cared to tell. And, well.

"I forget about you sometimes," he said.

Stan's hands paused around the collar of his shirt. "What?"

"O-only for a minute," Bill stammered. "Sometimes when I'm heading to class. I tr-try to say your nah-name in my head and I-I-I...can't."

He wished he could understand the exact kind of fear that washed over Stan's face, or the way that it was familiar to him. He couldn't place it. "Do you ever—"

"If I kiss you," Stan interrupted, clearing his throat. "Will you stop talking?"

And just as quickly as it came, the moment was gone again. Fear slipped back into the breast pockets of their hearts, their truth a half-thing. Bill's love story there, but not there. Bill craned his neck up to face Stan completely and gave him a small, but firm nod.

Stan put a hand over Bill's on his chair, leaned down, and kissed him. It was brief and sweet, the first time. Stan pulled away a little, but Bill tangled his fingers through his curls and dragged him back. Stan obliged, kissing him harder—kissing him breathless. When they finally broke apart and Stan stood to his full height, reaching out for his bag hanging by Bill's desk without letting go of his hand, his cheeks were pink but his face was calm.

"You gonna forget me now, Denbrough?" he asked in that shaky-cool nature he'd perfected in late high school.

"C-can't see how I could," Bill managed, smiling.

Stan left the room with nothing more than a soft squeeze to Bill's hand, and Bill turned back to his desk to write. He wrote to remember, and maybe that—in the end—was what allowed him to forget.

[do-do-dodo-do-dodo-dodo]

Bill/Stenbrough HC #1

(With a hint of Bichie)

So, I started rambling in the tags about this, but I have a hc that Bill Denbrough is bad at math. Idk why, but I do.

But like, Stan and Richie have to help him with homework and stuff.

And Stan gets so fuckin stressed. Like he basically cheers when Bill actually understands a question.

Or, he understands it at first when the teacher is explaining.

But the more they develop different versions of a type of question, Bill just gets lost.

Bill isn't stupid, I think he'd generally be good at school.

But nearly everyone at least has that one class, where they want to slam their head into the desk. And for Bill, that's math.

Also, since technically you need maths for physics, he's struggle with that as well. Like, he'd manage with some aspects when it comes to things about the eyes and reflections or just anything like that. (I didn't do physics except for when it was mandatory that one year).

But you put numbers infront of him, he'll turn to Stan, because Stan would definitely take fuckin physics.

And Stan would fucking sigh. He'd need a short moment to internally swear at Bill. Then he'd roll his eyes and ask Bill what part he's stuck on.

But yeah, Bill can't do Maths and Stan definitely gets left with helping him.

Because Bill knows how smart he is, I mean Stan becomes an accountant or something along the lines of that.

Also, Richie, even though he loves Bill, can't pay attention when he's helping him. Which then distracts Bill and they end up rambling about comics for two hours.

So, Bill's no longer allowed to ask Richie for help unless Stan's busy. Stan made that rule.

[eds-trashmouth]

For the writing thing, how about some Stenbrough in a college setting? I'm not all that great at prompts, but maybe you could have them meet for the first time in one of their classes, or even have them be roommates ^^ Up to you!

“Stan the man! What’s happening?” The loud voice in his ear of his best friend/roommate, Richie, jerked Stan out of his daydream. With a groan Stan glanced in the trashmouth’s direction, not even hiding the roll of his eyes.

“Next time you decide to sneak up on me...don’t.” Stan turned his attention back to the subject of his daydream as Richie took his seat with a laugh. Three rows in front of them sat Bill Denbrough with his back to them. He’d switched to their creative writing class about a week ago, and Stan was absolutely smitten. Well, as smitten as you could be for a boy you’ve never talked to before. But that didn’t stopped Richie from picking on him constantly for it.

“Just go talk to him Staniel. How bad could it be? The front of him looks way better than the back. Trust me.” Richie smirked at his friend and gave him a little wink.

“Talk about him again and I’ll cut your dick off. But you’re right. It definitely looks better.” Stan sighed, lying his chin on his hand while staring down to the other lad. He currently had his head down, scrawling something into his notebook. He does that a lot, Stanley’s noticed, but he rarely talks. Let alone looks up in his direction. As Stan stared, a wadded up paper ball went flying in the others direction. As it struck the back of Bill, Stan whipped his head in Richie’s direction with a glare. Richie was turned toward the door, slightly whistling. Out of the corner of Stan’s eye he saw Bill heading their way with the paper in his hand. Stan couldn’t help his blush as Bill got to their seats and placed the paper on the desk. Stan’s blush deepened as he realized what Richie had written. There, in Richie’s signature scrawl, was “roses are red, violets are blue, you’re so cute, let’s date” signed in big letters STAN.

“Uh, hi. Is this y-y-yours?” As Bill spoke Stan couldn’t meet his eyes. He just stared in horror at the paper in front of him. After a few moments, Richie elbowed him. Causing Stan to lift his head. There standing in front of him was his dream, and he was mortified. Maybe it was the flare in the other boys cheeks or the stare from his best friend, but he shook his head yes.

“G-good,” Bill smiles ear to ear, “how’s Saturday at f-f-five?”

Send me a ship + prompt and I’ll write a paragraph for ya!

[care-bear13]

smut prompts: 2 or 53 (or both) with stenbrough if you please?? AND GOODNIGHT

“We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.” and “I’ve never wanted anyone to fuck me so badly.” with stenbrough. Enjoy :) 

NSFW under the cut!

Stan watches Bill chew on his pencil, watches his teeth come down again on the already bitten wood. He’s been chewing it the entire time Stan has been at Bill’s house, in Bill’s room, on Bill’s bed. It’s gross, Stan first thinks because Bill uses that pencil with his hand and then puts it in his mouth and then uses it again. But, he then starts to focus on Bill’s mouth instead of the pencil itself, and that leads down a distracting path. Which is unfortunate, considering he’s supposed to be helping Bill with his math homework. He barely registers the question when Bill asks, “D-did I do this right?”. He points to a problem on the page, and Stan pulls himself out of his thoughts to scan his work. “Yeah, that’s correct. You’re learning.” Stan smiles lightly, and turns to see Bill looking intently at his lips, like he can’t turn away. And Stan can’t help it. He lets them part slightly, and waits for Bill to kiss him, to do anything. But, like he always does, he, in fact, doesn’t. Bill turns back to his notebook, his face visibly redder than before. Stan bites the inside of his cheek, eyes still on the side of Bill’s face, hoping he’ll turn back. They’ve been dancing around this for awhile, the catching one staring at the other, the lingering glances, how Bill asks him to study when they all know that Richie is a real math wizard, how Stan will sit a little closer than necessary during these study sessions, all that shit. Stan doesn’t understand why Bill hasn’t just taken the hint yet, and honestly, he’s fucking tired of it. He releases the inside of his cheek, more than determined. “Bill.” Bill hums in response, tapping his pencil on his notebook, instead of chewing on it. “Bill.” Bill finally turns to him, his brow furrowed. Here goes nothing. “Why do you keep doing this?” Bill shakes his head, confused. “I th-thought you s-said this was r-right...” He points to a problem on the page, obviously still not getting the hint. Stan slams his hand down on the page, covering the pencil marks. “Not the math, Bill. I mean, why won’t you just kiss me?” Bill sputters, and Stan rolls his eyes. “We’ve been dancing around this for months. Why haven’t you done anything?” “B-because... b-because w-we’re f-friends!” “We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.” Bill looks down at his hands, now folded in his lap. “I thought... I th-thought it was j-just me, and I d-didn’t want to m-make you uncomfortable-“ Stan can’t take it anymore. He surges forward, grabbing Bill’s face in his hands, and kisses him with everything he has. Bill seems frozen for a second, like he can comprehend what the fuck is happening. But then, Stan feels his lips responding. With fervor. Yes, they’re soft, just like Stan always thought they’d be, but they move firmly against his own, and Stan just melts. He feels Bill’s hands grip his waist, and he climbs into Bill’s lap, wanting to be closer. Bill slides his hands up and down his sides, tracing each rib with his thumb, and Stan shivers against him. Bill pulls back, licking his lips. “S-so, you like m-me too?” “No, we’re just friends.” Stan deadpans. Bill doesn’t seem to register the sarcasm at first, and his eyes go wide. “Yes, I like you. Why do you think I stared at you all the time?” “I d-didn’t-“ “You saw me. There’s no way you didn’t see me.” Bill just stares at him. Stan sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It doesn’t matter now. Just-“ But this time, Bill kisses him. And it’s so much better. The way that Bill leads Stan’s lips with his own, the way Bill leans into Stan while pulling him closer by the hips. And then Bill uses his tongue and Stan is gone, he's done for. He moves his hands around Bill’s jaw, into his hair. He scratches at the little ones on the nape of Bill’s neck, and Bill groans softly. Stan smiles into the kiss. “You like that?” Bill grips at Stan harder, grinding their hips together, and Stan lets out a soft moan. “Yes.” Stan shivers again at the look in Bill’s eyes, the way that they’re so intensely dilated that he can’t see any blue color at all. He suppresses a whine in the back of his throat. Bill keeps kissing him. Keeps kissing his lips, and then moves to his neck, unbuttoning the buttons in his collared shirt so he can reach Stan’s shoulders and collar bone, too. And, Jesus, after months of waiting and build up, Stan is sick of wasting any more time. So he pushes Bill onto his back. Bill looks up at him, and Stan can tell he’s just as turned on as he is, so he pulls at the hem of his shirt and throws it over his head. He leans down, letting his hands trace Bill’s chest. “I’ve never wanted anyone to fuck me this badly, Bill.” Stan grinds his hips, biting his lip, and Bill’s hands pull him harder against him, like he can’t help himself. It feels good. “Shit.” Bill sits up and they remove the rest of their clothes, throwing them on the floor to join the math textbook and Bill’s notebook. Once they’re naked, Stan settles back in Bill’s lap. Bill mouths at his collar bone, moving down to caress his nipple with his tongue. Stan grips his hair again, letting out another moan. “You’re so g-gorgeous.” Bill’s hands travel lightly down his sides, and Stan swallows thickly. “I w-wanna fuck you so b-bad.” Stan can’t conceal his whimper. “Please.” And does he ever. Prepping doesn’t take long, Stan does it to himself a lot, while he may or may not think about Bill. It doesn’t matter, though. What does matter is Stan is laying in his back and Bill is situated on top of him, one hand near Stan’s head, holding himself up, and the other holding Stan’s hip as Bill drives his cock into him. Bill’s hips moved slow at first, not wanting to cause Stan any pain. But Stan just told him to go faster, to fuck him, and Bill couldn’t argue with that. They’ve been at it for so long that sweat is making the sheets stick to Stan’s back, but he doesn’t even care about the sweat. He just wants Bill to fuck him even harder and faster. At a particularly hard thrust, Stan lets his head fall back, moaning lowly, and Bill responds by keeping his thrusts like that. “Bill.” Bill’s eyes screw shut, like if he looks at Stan, he’ll come right then and there. Stan grips his shoulders, then his neck and face. And then Bill does open his eyes. It’s almost too much. “Bill, ple-“ Stan cuts himself off with high moan from Bill hitting that spot inside him. He feels Bill’s lips on his neck. “F-fuck.” Bill groans lowly against his throat. It makes Stan shiver. “Make me come, Bill.” Stan pants into his ear. “Touch me, make me come. Please.” Bill’s lips detach from Stan’s neck, with a parting bite. “I’m g-gonna make you come.” Stan whines as Bill’s hand finally closes around his cock, stroking as fast as his thrusts. “I’ll make you come.” Stan wants to respond with anything other than ‘uh, uh, uh’ but he can’t. He can’t form any words in his brain right now because he feels his orgasm approaching extremely fast and hot inside him. And when it does arrive, a long, low sound leaves Stan’s throat, one he had no chance of stopping. His nails dig into Bill’s shoulders and his hips stutter because Bill doesn’t slow down and it feels good. Until, Bill’s hips do suddenly stop, and grind into him hard as Bill comes, too. Stan keeps his arms around Bill’s neck, brushing his fingers on Bill’s warm skin. He thinks he could even fall asleep, before Bill speaks. “I r-really thought it w-was just me.” God, Stan thinks, why did Bill have to be so dumb sometimes. But he smiles to himself, placing a kiss on Bill’s ear. “It definitely wasn’t.”

[madiwritesthings]

Daughter of Anarchy. Chapter 1. Part 5.

3rd person’s POV.

Elizabeth and Jax pulled up at the clubhouse, Lizzie got off of her dad’s bike the second it was parked, the air around her dad right now was so tense and all she could think about was how she wanted to get away from it. In hindsight, Lizzie should have tried to talk to him, considering how lost she was feeling. Her mother in the hospital and her little brother on the verge of dying. It was a lot to take in for a 13 year old kid but her dad had enough issues and he didn’t to be dealing with hers. Lizzie threw a half smile to her dad before walking towards and into the clubhouse. She didn’t really think anyone would be awake or at least out in the clubhouse, she assumed they would shacking up with some croweater but she didn’t like thinking about that because it’s gross, so she was surprised to see Chibs sitting at the bar with Half-Sack. Both their heads snapped up at her, she really didn’t want to hear their sympathies about her mom because at this point, with Wendy, it’s nothing new.

“Hi Darlin.” Chibs said to her with a sympathetic look in his eye and on his face which Lizzie hated, she didn’t like sympathy, and to be honest it should be directed more at her dad than her, it was his son who was going to die.

“Hey Uncle Chibs.” She said, and nodding to Half-Sack as some sort of greeting, and made her way to her dad’s dorm room, when she opened the door she was hit smell of man, she couldn’t find any other way to describe it but that. It was also a mess but for tonight she could deal with it, she made a mental note to talk to her grandmother about staying with her instead of here, and thinking about it, she didn’t know why she just didn’t go with her gram in the first place. Taking a look at her dad’s dorm room made her regret that decision big time. Lizzie set down her bag and sat on her dad’s bed, she leaned her head back and just sighed. She really wasn’t in the mood to sleep and after everything that happened today she wasn’t sure she could if she wanted too. After about 5 minutes of peace, which was the only 5 minutes of peace she had gotten all day was interrupted by a knock on the door. 

“Come in” Lizzie sighed out, mentally preparing herself for a conversation with whoever was behind the door, the door opened and Chibs walked in.

“What?” Lizzie asked Chibs as he came in and sat next to her. 

“Just checkin’ on you Lass” Chibs said putting his hands up in mock way of defense. “Chill, I’m not gonna bite your head off” Lizzie said rolling her eyes “but anyway thanks for your concern, but I’m fine and dandy” Lizzie answers, Chibs looked at her, and gave her look that pretty much said“You’re lying, and I know you are, so start talking”, Lizzie didn’t like that look but she knew that there wasn’t anyway she was about to get out of this conversation. “My dad has just been you know distant, not really in the mood to talk, which I get and I don’t judge him for, he’s going though a lot too, but..” Lizzie stopped and let out a sigh. “But?” Chibs asked, egging her on to continue.

“It’s hard to explain, it just feels like he’s pulling away when I really need him most or we need each other most.” Lizzie said, she had no idea where that came from, Chibs just has a way of getting people to spill their hearts out to him, it was weird. Chibs was silent for a second and Lizzie thought for once in her life, she had finally been able to silence him, but her thoughts were interrupted when he started talking.

“Your dad loves you Darlin”, more than anything in this world, don’t ever doubt that” He said sternly. Lizzie gave him a sad smile but didn’t say anything, she really just wanted this conversation to be over, she guessed Chibs got the memo from her silence.

“Get some sleep sweetheart, we’ll talk more in the morning.” He said, leaned down and kissed her forehead and left the room, Lizzie decided to take his advice and try to sleep. She turned off the light and laid down, soon enough she was out like a light.

————————————————————————————————————————————————

“Hey, Kid.” was the first thing Lizzie heard when she woke up, and she realized she was also being shaken pretty hard.

“Yo, what the fuck?” Lizzie said as she opened her eyes and saw it was Tig.

“Ah look, sleeping beauty is awake, get up, Gemma is leavin for the hospital soon.” Tig said, Lizzie sat up and looked at Tig. “My dad here?” She asked, but she felt like she already knew the answer. 

“Nah, he left a little bit ago, but Gemma is leaving soon.” He said and left the room. Lizzie ran a hand through her hair, today was the day of Abel’s stomach surgery and she was more than nervous, she loved that kid so much already and she honestly believed she wouldn’t be able to handle if anything happened to him. After she was done getting ready she walked out of the dorm to see Sack, Chibs, Tig and Piney. 

“Mornin Darlin’” Piney greets her, Lizzie gives him a smile and nod, Tig walked over and handed her a cup of coffee that she knew for a fact he didn’t make because Tig can’t do shit on his own and made a mental note to thank Half-Sack later.

“Here, hopefully this will help with your bitchy attitude.” Tig said.

“And they say chivarly is dead.” Lizzie deadpans back, Tig just laughs and walks away to go do whatever the fuck Tig does. Lizzie walked away in search of her grandmother because she was the reason she was so rudely awoken. Lizzie made her way to the office, which was where Gemma mostly likely was, because she did spend most of her there, and surprise that’s exactly where she was.

“Hey Babe, you ready?” Gemma said as Lizzie entered her office, Lizzie nodded her head and set down her empty cup on Gemma’s desk. 

“Go wait in the car, I’ll be right there” she said, Lizzie sat her grandmother’s small car that always made her feel trapped. About 5 minutes later Gemma came out. 

“Luann is meeting us at the hospital.” Gemma said as she sat down in the car. 

“Okay.” Lizzie said, most of the car ride was silent, Gemma said a few things here and there but didn’t really try to start up a conversation. When they both arrive at the hospital, they go into the waiting area, they see Luann is already waiting for them. When she spots them, she rushes over and gives Lizzie a hug. 

“Hi Lizzie, how are you?” Luann says as she pulls away, leaving her hands on Lizzie’s shoulders.

“To be honest, I’ve been better.” Lizzie says, a little shocked. 

“I can only imagine.” Luann says and removes her hands from her shoulders. Lizzie, Gemma and Luann all sit and wait for the doctors to come out and update them on Abel.

——————————————————————————————————————

About an hour later, Dr. Knowles came out, they all stood up and walked over to her. 

“Abel’s stomach surgery went well, but it’s putting a strain on his system. Dr Namid doesn’t want to wait, thinks we should do the heart surgery now.” She said.

“Okay so what happens—“ Gemma starts but Tara interrupts her.

“A specialist is on his way from San Francisco, one of the best pediatric cardiovascular surgeons in the country. Soon as he gets here, we’ll begin the procedure on Abel’s heart.” Tara said.

“That’s good right?, that they aren’t waiting?” Lizzie asks, Tara looks at her and her eyes go soft from the previous “doctor eyes” as Lizzie calls them. 

“It’s the best choice, yes” Tara answers and gives Lizzie a smile. “Okay, Thank you.” Gemma says. After a beat of silence Tara turns to Gemma.

“Can we talk?” Tara asks. Gemma looks at Luann and Lizzie.

“We’ll be right here baby.” Luann says and leads Lizzie away, even though she didn’t really want to go, Lizzie shots Gemma a look that reminds Tara so much of Jax that she has to look away, when she looks back she notices Lizzie is now looking at her, and gives her a smile and walks away with Gemma. 

“What is it?” Gemma asks.

“Wendy’s in really bad shape, Can’t stop crying.” Tara says, Gemma rolls her eyes.

“And?” She asks.

“I was hoping you could talk to her, or at least let her see her daughter. Just let her know she’s not all alone.” Tara says, automatically assuming Gemma is the reason that Lizzie won’t see Wendy.

“Trust me, nothing I’m gonna say to that crank whore is gonna make her feel loved.” Gemma says.

“Forgot just how forthright you could be.” Tara says back sarcastically. 

“You forgot a lot of things, sweetheart.” Gemma says, she wasn’t going to stand there and let the doctor who left her son talk to her like that. 

“If you have a problem with assisting on Abel’s case, just say so.” Tara says completely done with Gemma. 

“You a good doctor?” Gemma asks.

“Yes” Tara answers quickly. 

“Then I don’t have a problem” Gemma says. 

“Okay.” Tara says and starts to walk away when Gemma pulls up her shirt, this draws Lizzie’s attention and she sees the crow on Tara’s back, she assumed she got that for her dad, because all old lady’s do. 

“Guess there are something you can’t change” Gemma says.

“I leave it there as reminder that all the shit is behind is me” Tara says.

“I forgot just how clever you can be” Gemma says.

“If you change your mind, Wendy’s in there” Tara walks away and goes down the hallway and Gemma comes back to Luann and Lizzie. 

“What was all that about?” Lizzie asks Gemma.

“Nothing baby, don’t worry about it” she answers. As she, Gemma and Luann walk away, she makes it one of her top priorities to have a private conversation with Dr. Knowles. 

———————————

Tag List: @oh-no-stenbrough

Authors Note: So I’m backkkk, I tried a new style of writing for the story hoping it works better because I really wanted to be able to give more detail and I also tried to expand the relationship between Lizzie and the guys, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I might be able to post another one today but I’m not sure, I love you all and thank you for the support. 

[almondmilkygay]

Stenbrough; Soulmate.

Soulmates. What a strange concept. The idea that there is someone out there for everyone - some perfect, perplexing person, made especially for you. They could be right in front of you, or on the other side of the world. In Derry, there was an easier way to figure out who your soulmate was - you just had to pay attention. Words would be scratched into your wrist, by an unknown force. All of which, are what your soulmate last said. A simple concept, I know. Less simple, if you have a stutter. This - was Stuttering Bill Denbrough's problem at hand.

"E-Eddie, I'm s-sick of having to w-wait," He was complaining to his best friend, Eddie Kaspbrak. Eddie let out an exasperated sigh.

"I know, Billy. But it's out of your control, and please don't stutter my name," Eddie said back slowly. He had always been skeptical about the idea of Soulmatism - until words appeared on his wrist one day. He hadn't spoken a word about them, and chose to ignore them as they continued appearing. Stupid slurs and dumb words - stuff his mother would never allow him to utter.

"S-Sorry," Bill apologised. He buried his head back into a Biology textbook, his mind still racing. Who could be his Soulmate? And what if he never met them? Bill had dappled with the idea of his sexuality for many years, but he'd never gone into depth. What if his Soulmate wasn't a girl?

The next day, Bill and Eddie got ready for school like usual. Eddie stuffed his fanny pack to the point of overflow and Bill perked up his collar. The two headed into the building, both bracing themselves for another day of torture from infamous school bully, Henry Bowers.

They dodged the Bowers' gang, and headed straight to Biology.

A lanky, curly haired boy sat in front of Bill's seat. He had never met him before.

Must be new, Bill thought to himself, taking a seat. The teacher began doing the role.

"Richard Tozier?"

"Here!" Those words were scrawled across Eddie's wrist, and his eyes widened as he realised.

"Bill Denbrough?"

"P-Present," Bill managed to spit out, feeling his cheeks warm as the boy in front of him turned around in his chair.

"Stanley Uris?"

"Yep," The curly haired boy, Stanley - replied calmly. Suddenly, Bill felt a burning upon the inside of his left wrist. He winced slightly, and turned his arm to see what had appeared. Yep was written neatly across it. Bill felt his cheeks warm even more before flipping his arms over and crossing them in a polite manor. As soon as the role was finished, everyone got to work - but Bill was especially distracted. He tapped his foot against the leg of the desk repetitively as he urged his mind to do its work.

"Hey," A voice said, snapping him out of his mantra, "Can you not?"

Stan had turned around in his chair and was now staring at Bill - his cheeks a rosy red and his curly locks falling over his eyes.

"S-S-Sorry," Bill replied as his head lowered, embarrassed. Stan placed his hand on Bill's, and luckily didn't see the wrist.

"Hey, it's okay. Do you not understand?" He asked warmly, reassuringly. Bill shook his head, raising it a bit.

"I can help you if you want..?" Stan offered gently - to which Bill nodded, "Library at four?"

Bill nodded again, and so did Stan - before turning back to his own work. Unknown to Bill, Sorry was scrawled on Stan's wrist. Stan (like Eddie) had always been skeptical about the concept of a Soulmate - but this was living, breathing proof - literally. The day went by in a flash, and before Bill knew it - he was hurrying over to a table in the middle of the library, with Stan sitting at it.

"Hello," Stan said calmly, gesturing at a chair beside him. Bill ignored the scratching on his wrist.

"H-Hi," Bill spat, as Stan ignored his scratching.

"Can I ask you something?"

"S-S-Shoot," Bill said - his stutter steadily getting worse as his soulmate leaned closer to him.

"Were you uh- born with a stutter, or uh- something else?" Stan asked gently. Bill looked the boy up and down, and felt his cheeks warm. As he opened his mouth, he heard a loud heard a loud voice from the other side of the library. The other new student Richard was talking to.. Eddie?

Bill felt a grin form on his face as he saw Richard's arm around his petite best friend. He quickly caught Eddie's eye - to which Eddie held up his wrist awkwardly, before shoving it back into his pocket and raising his eyebrows at Stan, who was still sitting across from Bill.

"O-Oh. B-B-Born with it," Bill finally answered, tearing his eyes away from Eddie and Richard.

"Cool," Stan said simply, "What did Eddie just do with his wrist?"

"Oh, y-you know," Bill said, mistakingly holding up his own inked wrist to Stan - the words What did Eddie just do with his wrist written across it, "S-Soulmate sh-shit,"

Stan laughed, and felt his own cheeks warm as he read the writing on Bill's wrist.

"I don't believe that stuff," He said, rubbing his own wrist awkwardly - now a light shade of pink, "But now, I don't know..?"

"Wh-What changed?" Bill asked, gently taking Stan's hand in his and turning over the wrist to read his own words from it, "O-Oh,"

"Yeah," Stan blushed awkwardly.

"W-Well, the w-world d-d-doesn't lie," Bill shrugged.

"Do you want to give it a try?" Stan asked, a little taken aback. Bill nodded, his face turning red. Stan raised his eyebrows, before nodding too.

"Okay," Stan said simply, sitting closer to Bill.

"Billy!" A small voice interrupted Bill and Stan's moment. The small voice of Eddie's, "Who is this?"

"T-This is S-S-"

"Stan," Stanley replies gently, taking Bill's hand in his. Behind Eddie, stood Richard, "And you are?"

"I'm Eddie, this is Richie,"

"Ahh, you're the other new kid. Welcome, Mr Urine,"

"Mh, it's Uris - dickhead," Stan chuckled, squeezing Bill's hand gently.

"Mh, I don't care," Richie said snidely in reply, wrapping his arms around Eddie's neck, "What 'dya say we leave these two nerds, babe?"

Both Stan and Bill watched as Eddie turned a bright shade of red.

"Whatever, you nerd," Eddie replied, before practically dragging Richie away by his large hand.

"That was a bit-"

"C-Crazy," Bill finished for him, looking down at his own wrist as Stan did too. Perhaps, Bill thought, He'd give Soulmates a chance after all.

[ddproductionsw77]

Watching You Watch Her

Fandom: IT (Muschietti Films)

Pairing(s): Pining but not established Reddie (Richie Tozier x Eddie Kaspbrak), Richie Tozier x Sandy Montgomery (OC), Stenbrough (Stanley Uris x Bill Denbrough) and Benverly (Ben Hanscom x Beverly Marsh), Mike Hanlon x Mila Roberts (OC)

Characters: Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier, Mike Hanlon, Stanley Uris, Bill Denbrough, Ben Hanscom, Beverly Marsh, Sandy Montgomery (OC), Mila Roberts (OC)

Rating: T

Description: Eddie struggles with the fact that Richie has a girlfriend, one that is actually pretty much perfect.

Author’s Note: This is the REVISED version of Watching You Watch Her. If you see any typos, let me know!

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Why did she have to be so fucking great?

Eddie contemplated this question as he watched Sandy Montgomery from across the room, cuddled up against the side of his best friend. Richie’s arm was slung over her shoulders and with her free hand, she had reached up to intertwine her fingers with his. He was absentmindedly tracing from her knuckles to the blood red fingernails that matched her shade of lipstick and the ribbon in her hair oh-so-fucking perfectly while he talked enthusiastically with Mike beside him.

Mike was a traitor, Eddie thought as he narrowed his eyes on them and took a sip from his red solo cup, grimacing slightly at the concoction Beverly had made him. Mike had promised him that if he came to the stupid fucking party with the rest of them that he and his current girlfriend, Mila, would stay by his side. Mike was across the room and Mila was doing shots with Beverly in the kitchen. And Eddie was standing against the wall all alone, per usual.

They were probably talking about their fucking stupid band. Richie played guitar decently and Mike could drum. They’d just started playing together at the start of the school year a couple months back and now it was all they fucking discussed. 

Sighing, Eddie rolled his eyes and felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned his head to find Stanley sliding into place beside him. He quirked an eyebrow and had to practically yell to the other to be heard over the music, “I thought you weren’t coming?”

“It’s Jack Colins’ party. I’m not leaving Bill alone with all these drunk baseball players.” Stan sighed, looking out at the room. 

Eddie shrugged. Jack Colins was the captain of Derry High’s baseball team, which Bill had played main pitcher for since Sophomore year. He, Mike, Ben and Bev were the only reason the Losers had even been invited parties of this kind, as the athletes of the group. Mike was the varsity star quarterback and Ben and Bev both ran track and field. 

His eye line fell back upon Richie and Sandy and he felt annoyance flare to life in his chest. Before he could stop himself, he said, “Sandy wasn’t even invited.”

Stanley eyed him from the corner of his eye before sighing, “She’s Richie’s girlfriend. Loser by association, right? Those are the rules so she gets the same invites the rest of us do. Mila, too.”

Eddie set his jaw before taking another long gulp from his drink, “I know that. But we came up with those rules in middle school, when we were desperate for friends. It’s different now.”

“Different because?” Stanley asked, turning to give Eddie a hard look.

Eddie glanced away and shrugged, taking another drink, “Just because, okay? You’re dating another Loser, it’s not like it affects you anyway.”

“Are you jealous?” Stanley asked, bluntly.

Eddie nearly choked on his drink, sputtering and stammering, “What?! Why—Why would I be— I’m not jealous!”

Stan shrugged, looking between his friend and the other Losers across the room, “It would make sense, Eddie.” 

Would it? Eddie thought, following Stan’s gaze to Richie, who was still wrapped around beautiful, funny, perfect Sandy. Would it make sense?

“You’re the only Loser who isn’t dating right now.” Stan continued, having not noticed the way that Eddie had tensed up.

Eddie felt himself deflate slightly and slipped his eyes closed, leaning back against the wall and nodding slowly. Clearing his throat, he glanced at Stan before nodding and looking at his feet, “Right… yeah, because I’m not dating anyone…”

“Speak of the devils,” Stan muttered and Eddie looked up to see Mike, Richie and Sandy heading toward them. He bit back a groan and kept his expression neutral as they approached.

“Hey, Stan The Man, came to keep an eye on your boy toy?” Richie asked with that twinkle in his eye he always got when mildly intoxicated. Eddie wondered if Sandy noticed it too before shaking the runaway thought from his mind. He couldn’t think like that, it was wrong and, more importantly, it was pointless.

Stanley said nothing, just gave Richie a look before pushing off the wall and muttering, “I’m going to go find Bill.”

Mike slipped into the spot Stan had been in and nudged Eddie, “Where’s Mila? I thought she was going to hang with you?”

“She went with Bev to do some shots in the kitchen,” Eddie shrugged, looking down into his cup.

“Damn! That sounds fun!” Sandy’s melodic voice exclaimed, drawing Eddie’s attention back up without his consent. He watched as she looked up at Richie and gently tapped his cheek, “You’re lucky I like you and am willing to stay sober enough to drive your drunk ass home.”

“I know and I cherish you, San,” Richie muttered, burying his face in the thick, curly hair a top her head. 

Eddie glanced away and met Mike’s eyes, “I can take you to find Mila.”

“Nah,” Richie cut in, looking over at them with his chin resting on Sandy’s hair, “I got it. I need a refill anyway. Eds? Need anything to drink?”

Mike moved to stand with Richie, who was finally detaching himself from his girlfriend, as Eddie shrugged and shook his head, instinctually snapping, “Don’t call me Eds. And no, I’m fine.”

“Cool,” Richie nodded and quickly leaned down to kiss Sandy, “Play nice, I’ll be back.”

“Later, Loser,” Sandy laughed, shoving him away. He laughed, shortly squeezing her hand before letting her go and following after Mike.

Why did they have to be so good together?

Eddie sighed, inspecting his cup closely to avoid looking at Sandy and thus being pulled into a conversation with her. She wasn’t bad to talk to or anything… she was actually really nice and funny, which just made it all the more fucking worse. 

He shouldn’t feel this way… he had no reason on Earth to feel this way…

His luck ran out within a minute as Sandy looked around the room, her eyes falling on him as her redrum lips curled into a smile, “Eddie? Can I ask you something?”

No, he wanted to say. Fuck off, he wanted to add. But he didn’t.

Instead, he just shrugged and muttered too quiet for her to hear over the music, “Free fucking country.”

Sandy ran her gaze over his face before crossing her arms over her chest and saying loudly, “So, you really don’t like me, huh?”

His stomach dropped and he stood there for a long moment, opening and closing him mouth as he stared at her like a fucking deer in headlights.

He… he should say she was wrong, right? Wasn’t that what a good friend would do? What a best friend should do? Because he was still Richie’s best friend, right? Besides, he really had no rhyme or reason for not liking her. At least not one that made sense and didn’t make him out to be a total dick.

Finally, he managed to shake his head, “No! I— I don’t not like you, Sandy. I— I don’t even really know you.”

“And you don’t really try to,” She cocked her head to the side, “Actually, most of the time it feels like you’re avoiding me, trying to duck out of talking to me and I just wanted to know, you know, why?”

“Why?” Eddie echoed, still floored. Sandy was watching him with observant but unbothered eyes. If she really felt like he didn’t like her, it was clear that she didn’t care all that much about his opinion. He blinked and looked away before glancing back at her, “I don’t—“

“Is it because you don’t think I’m right for Richie?” She asked, tucking some of her flowing hair behind her ear, which was pierced in three places. Jesus, if he brought home a girl like her to his mother… It could possibly be worse than the way he was sure she’d react to finding out he was gay.

“No!” Eddie shook his head instantly, “That’s not it!”

“So you admit it, then? You admit you don’t like me?” Sandy quipped, a flash of something like triumph in her lush green eyes, those lips forming a confident smirk.

Eddie’s mouth slammed shut again and he shuffled uncomfortably, shaking his head and looking anywhere but at her. It felt like she was picking him apart, taking his walls away brick by brick and worming her way behind his exterior to the things he didn’t want anyone, especially her, to see. Again, he didn’t know what to say and he figured anything he managed to come up with, Sandy wouldn’t listen to anyway. 

She’d already made up her mind that she knew everything. That she was totally right…

She was right, though, wasn’t she?

“Come on, that’s gotta be it, Eds. You think I’m wrong for Rich—“

“Do not fucking call me that,” Anger flared, hot and fierce in his chest, roaring up his throat and burning it. He spun his head back to look at her, glaring and continuing on hotly, “That’s not fucking it, Sandy, okay? You’re fucking perfect for Richie, you’re goddamn everything he’s ever wanted! It’s great, really, is it! I just don’t like you because I don’t fucking like you, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Sandy watched him as he practically yelled at her before falling silent. She sighed, shrugging, “I mean, I don’t think that’s something anyone wants to hear but okay. There’s hundreds of personalities out there, some are bound to clash.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Eddie rolled his eyes, spotting Richie head back their way with Mike and Mila trailing behind him, “I’m leaving now, Sandy.”

He ended up having to walk home, as Mike had been his ride.

________________________________________________

Two weeks after the party, Eddie had finally started to wind down from the whole thing. He’d spent almost all his time since waiting for Richie to confront him about being a dick to his girlfriend but he never did. Sandy must have not told him… shocking, really, with how wrapped around each other those two were. 

Maybe it should have endeared him somewhat to her, having some secret that she’d kept, but it didn’t. He still felt like screaming every time she sat with them at lunch, on Richie’s other side, and wanted to throw up when he caught sight of his best friend leaning over to whisper some sweet nothing into her ear. It was getting to the point where he was avoiding ever hanging out with the Losers anymore because she was just always fucking there. There on Bill’s couch, snuggled into Richie’s side while they watched movies, there in the library, passing notes to Beverly about Bev’s clothing sketches, there all the time. 

He couldn’t get away from Sandy and Richie and their nauseating obsession with each other.

However, he had agreed to pattering along with Mike to a rehearsal for his and Richie’s band in their bassist’s, Danny’s, garage. 

Danny was fine… maybe even cute when Eddie gave him a little more attention but he wasn’t all that interesting or entertaining. Good enough at bass, though, Eddie guessed as he sat on the couch in the corner of the garage, reading his assigned book while the guys practiced. 

“We could try You Shook Me All Night Long?” Danny suggested, playing with some cords on his bass nonsensically.

Richie shot him a look, “Can you fucking sing Brian Johnson, Danny? Cuz, I sure as hell can’t. I can barely manage some of Jagger’s range so no, we’re not going to try You Shook Me All Night Long. Ideas, Micycle?”

“I don’t care, Rich,” Mike sighed, glancing over at Eddie, who was still hunched over his book, “Something from Queen? We’re decent with Under Pressure or Another Bites The Dust.”

“See, Danny?” Richie snarked, pointing to Mike, “That’s what a good idea sounds like, you should try it on for size sometime.”

Mike laughed as Danny flipped Rich the bird before starting the iconic bass line for Under Pressure. Hearing this, Eddie glanced up, his eyes immediately finding Richie. He watched as the spastic asshole looked back at Mike, nodding in unison before they both joined Danny and started singing at the same time. 

Eddie loved Queen… And he loved watching Richie play. Watching Mike and Richie play, that is. 

Eyes trailing to follow Richie’s spidery digits as they found the cords on muscle memory alone, he suddenly felt like all the air had gone from his lungs, like Henry Bowers had just clocked him cold in the gut. Biting his lip, he forced his head back down and stared at the words on the page before him but not reading a single word.

All he could think about was that look of earnest concentration on Richie’s face that he only got when he was still getting comfortable playing a song… 

He let out a breath of air and felt his face burn. Fucking humiliating.

Humiliating and pointless.

They played through the song and followed it by striking up the rhythm of Everybody Wants To Rule The World and then playing into Bastards of Young. After that song, Richie called for a break, eyeing the clock. He sighed, “Alright, San just got off work so she’ll be here in a bit, that cool, Danny?”

Danny shrugged, “I don’t care. Just don’t, like, fuck in my house.”

Eddie squeezed his eyes shut and forced the image of Sandy and Richie intimately wrapped up together from his mind as he heard Richie chuckle, “I swear to save all the fucking for her place later, Danny Fanny.”

Jumping up from his seat on the couch so that his book went tumbling to the floor, Eddie hastily snatched it up and ran a hand down his face, “I—Uh—I just remembered I gotta go so I’m just going to—“

“Seriously?” Richie asked, eyebrows drawing together. “You have to leave?”

“I— Yeah, my mom’s got, like, a thing so I’ll just walk back home before she freaks the fuck out,” Eddie shrugged, being uncharacteristically rough as he shoved his book into his backpack and kept his eyes on the ground.

Richie sighed, watching him, “Why are you so fucking busy all the time, now? You skip movie nights, you flake out of study sessions at Bev’s and Bill’s… It sucks, we barely hang out anymore, Eds.”

Eddie let out a humorless laugh and shot Richie a look, “Yeah, because that’s my fault.”

“Guys…” Mike broke in, raising his eyebrows.

At the same time, Richie rubbed the back of his neck and shot back, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Eddie huffed, turning back to face Richie fully, “You’re the one who’s been too busy shoving your tongue down some random girl’s throat to make plans, not me.”

“Some random girl?” Richie snapped, sounding genuinely angry for the first time in the conversation, “Sandy’s not some random girl. She’s my girlfriend.”

“Yeah, I know,” Eddie shook his head, “So, I’ll just wait the month or however long this one’s gonna last and then just hang out with you after.”

“Eddie!” Mike scolded, shaking his head. 

Danny was watching the two like they were a tennis match.

Richie turned his head away, laughing to himself in a humorless fashion before nodding and looking back at Eddie, “You know what? Fuck you, Eds. At least I’ve been in more relationships than just one four-day long fling from a year ago. What are you, twelve?”

Eddie glared, jaw set as he slung his bag over his shoulders, “Fuck you, too, asshole. As if there’s even anyone in Derry worth wasting my time on.”

With that, he shoved his way out of the garage and out of the house, heart still hammering in his chest and his blood boiling. Why was everyone always so fucking obsessed with how many people you’d dated anyways? And it wasn’t like he had a ton of options, being gay in Derry, anyway and Richie fucking knew that! 

Crossing his arms over his chest, he made it to the end of the driveway before Mike caught him.

“Eddie!” He heard his friend calling to him, “Eddie, come on, wait!”

Throwing his head back dramatically, he spun on his heel to face him, “What do you want, Mike?”

Mike stopped before him, opening and closing his mouth and glancing away before sighing and rubbing his hands together, “You… you can’t really be mad.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?! He said—“

Mike cut him off before his voice could rise up too high, “He said what he did because you started it! And you… really don’t have a right to start stuff about him and Sandy.”

“A right?” Eddie demanded, “What does that even—“

“You could have done something about it, Eddie,” Mike broke in again forcefully before sighing again and continuing softer and more somber, “You— you had every chance to make a move and you didn’t.”

Eddie stood there in Danny Costello’s driveway and felt like sinking right through the crust of the Earth so that he could burn up in the fucking core. That would be better than this, then having this conversation, because this couldn’t be happening. No one— No one could know that he— 

He swallowed and stared at Mike, barely whispering, “I— I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Mike let out a long breath and nodded, keeping Eddie’s gaze, “Well, I think you do… And you can’t be mad at him for not waiting around for you to do something about it.”

“I’m not mad,” Eddie answered without thinking, “And I’m not— I didn’t expect— I don’t— Mike, I — I gotta go. My mom— I gotta go.”

He nearly tripped over himself in his haste to get away. 

__________________________________

It was movie night again and Eddie had forced himself to go.

He was being ridiculous, he had realized that on his walk home from the band rehearsal two days before. He was the one with the problem. He was being unreasonable, he was being crazy. And in the long run, it wouldn’t matter one way or another what Sandy thought of him but it would matter if Richie was mad.

His own idiocy wasn’t worth fighting, really fighting, with Richie. They didn’t fight, well, at least not the kind of fighting where they ended up honestly mad at each other. They snapped, they bickered, they argued but they didn’t ever mean any of it. It was just the way they were and Eddie wasn’t willing to risk that just because he was being a fucking psycho. 

He’d gone to Richie’s locker first thing the next day and apologized. He even taken it a step further, promising he would make time to get to movie night that week… Which was how he’d wound up in his current situation.

It wasn’t actually bad yet, he thought, laughing as he watched Beverly, Mike, and Bill playing  flip cup, without alcohol as Bill’s mother was upstairs, around the coffee table before him. 

Richie, and by extension Sandy, hadn’t gotten there yet, his eyes unwittingly flickering to the other end of the couch, where the two usually snuggled. His chest constricted and he almost reached for the inhaler he didn’t carry anymore before grasping the pillow he had been hugging tighter.

Stupid.

“D—Dammit, Bev, how are you suh—so good?” Bill asked, leaning back on his hands as Beverly won yet another round against him and Mike.

The red head winked at him, adding, “I’m even better at beer pong.”

“We know,” Mike rolled his eyes, reaching up to flick one of the empty solo cups at her. Beverly easily caught it in air and set it on the edge of the table, flipping it in one try before giving Mike a cocky smile.

“Where’s Mila?” She asked as she gathered up the other cups and handed them up to Ben, who took them out to the kitchen for her. 

Mike rolled his eyes, “She had to work and she refused to switch shifts with her friend because I guess she’s mad at me for something, I don’t know. She said she wants a night where she doesn’t have to see my face.”

Beverly laughed, leaning into Ben’s side as he took his spot beside her once again. From the chair over to the side, Stanley glanced over at them from his homework, “Well, you must have done something. Mila is the first sane girl you’ve dated.”

“I think she’s bugged that I cancelled plans to meet her parents this weekend,” Mike shrugged, “I didn’t want to but my grandpa said he needs me all weekend to help with this seasons harvest.”

“Still,” Bill said, shaking his head, “C—Can’t cancel on the girlfriend’s p—parents, Mike.”

Mike was about to respond when the front door flew open, causing half of them to jump. Eddie, so thoroughly desensitized to Richie’s dramatic entrances, merely glanced over his shoulder and felt his heart jump into his throat. Richie was grinning, actually grinning, not the smirk-smile thing he did most of the time, and he was alone. 

He felt his palms grow sweaty as he turned around fully to greet the trashmouth, “You’re late, asshole.”

Richie raised his eyebrows at him, still smiling wide and real, “Am I? Whoops.”

Behind Eddie, on the floor Beverly shot him a playful glare, “Yeah, Trashmouth, and it’s your turn to pick the movie, too, so we couldn’t even start anything without you.”

“Right,” Richie laughed a little and shook his head to himself. 

Eddie’s eyebrows drew together and he glanced over his shoulder at Stanley, who also looked perplexed. Something was off. Usually about now, Richie would make some joke about how his pick for the week was some porn knock-off of a famous movie or something like that. He’d have already climbed over the back of the couch and pinched Eddie’s cheeks, saying hi and commenting about how cute he looked. 

Instead, he was still just standing there, smiling to the point Eddie was starting to wonder if he was high on something.

Stanley spoke before he could, asking, “What are you giggling about, Trashmouth?”

Richie reached up, rubbing the back of his neck, and laughed again before declaring dramatically, “My dearest friends, I have come to the conclusion that I am completely obsessed, utterly in love, totally devoted!”

Before he could stop it, Eddie felt his expression go slack, his lips parting slightly as his breath caught in his throat. 

Richie didn’t seem to noticed that or anything else, throwing his arms skyward as he rambled on, “I am in love with Sandra Penelope Montgomery and I must declare my love to the Heavens!”

“Please,” Eddie heard Beverly’s voice from somewhere distant, even though he was sure she was within reaching distance behind him, “Don’t do that, Tozier. But congratulations, I like Sandy. She’s good for you.”

“Yeah, that’s awesome, Rich,” Ben, again sounding miles away, added.

Eddie blinked, feeling the air in his throat and lungs like a fire that was licking him up from within. He couldn’t look at Richie, at his big, wide smile anymore, his eyes darting to his hands instead as he heard all the others cracking jokes or talking about how fucking great Sandy was and how happy they were for Richie. He wanted to join them, wanted to be happy for Richie too, but instead all he felt was that burning and a sense that he was on the verge of an asthma attack. 

Breaking into a coughing fit, grasping his throat, he muttered something about needing water and bolted for the kitchen. He barely stumbled through the door but managed, going to the sink and turning the cold water on to full blast. 

Each breath of air felt like pins and needles in his lungs and he felt his eyes prickle with tears as he reached out to grasp the counter so hard his knuckles turned white. His vision was becoming tunneled and it hit him a like a Mac truck that he was having a panic attack. A full blown, real deal panic attack.

He was having a panic attack and he wasn’t sure wether he was going to pass out, vomit down his front or just fall over dead right there. All he was sure of was that something awful was happening, something so awful he couldn’t even think it without wanting to cry.

Leaning down, he forced his eyes closed, taking in one breath at a time. He started off shaky and lightheaded but slowly, slowly managed to achieve some semblance of steady oxygen flow before he felt a hand fall onto his back. He jumped, standing up straight and whirling around to find Mike leaning against the counter beside him.

Eddie met the other boy’s eyes and quickly darted his gaze away, shame and embarrassment welling in him. He looked up at the ceiling, letting out a long, shaken breath before barely whispering, for only Mike to hear, “He’s in love with her.”

“I know...” Mike mumbled, shifting beside his friend, unsure of how exactly to help. He settled on reaching out to rub Eddie shoulder, “I’m— Eddie, I really am sorry.”

Eddie shook his head, bringing his hands up to run them down his face, wiping away any tears that had slipped through his defenses, “It doesn’t matter.” 

He wasn’t completely sure who he was trying to convince, himself or Mike. Either way it was true. It didn’t matter, how he felt about Richie, how Richie felt about Sandy, none of it. It never had. Because so what if Mike had been right? So what if he did have feelings for Richie? Not a single part of it changed what was happening now. Richie was in love with Sandy and Eddie...

He squeezed his eyes closed and shook his head at himself before turning his head to Mike, “I’m fine Mike, I just need some water. You’re going to miss the start of the movie. Just, go.”

Mike watched him carefully for another minute before nodding slowly and slipping out of the kitchen. Eddie stood there alone for another minute, feeling that overwhelming sense of dread wash over him again but this time keeping himself together despite it. He bit his lip hard and bounced on the spot, taking more deep breathes before turning around and getting himself a glass of water.

He wasn’t dead, he reminded himself.

He could live with Richie being in love with Sandy. He could move past that, right? Surely. 

Eddie’s brain flickered back to that sight of Richie, smiling bigger than he thought he’d ever seen, coming into the house just moments ago. Richie, looking happier than Eddie could remember him being in a long time. That couldn’t be a bad thing, could it?

Richie being happy?

He could survive this, live with the burning in his chest. As long as Richie was happy, he could do that easily.

Gulping his water, Eddie schooled his expression into a casual smile and went back to the living room to watch whatever dumb ass movie Richie had picked with his friends.

As long as Richie was happy, Eddie would find a way to be fine with it.