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londone-fog · 5 years ago

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This Was A Home Once

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“This is fine,” he whispered to himself once he was safely in the driver’s seat of his car. “It’s fine that Eddie probably hates me. It’s fine.”

It was not fine.

(In which Richie comes back to Derry for the first time in four years, and Eddie doesn't know how to leave.)

Chapter 1

Richie graduated from UCLA on a sunny day in May. He smiled, shook hands, and gripped the fancy slip of paper that said he was qualified to do things related to communications and broadcast as though it would run away from him if he loosened his grip. Peers clapped his shoulders, and his mother was a teary eyed mess while asking for pictures of him and his father together. The whole thing was rather bittersweet in his opinion.

Later that night, after Richie’s parents had gotten back on their plane to Maine, Richie was going to go back to his tiny, over-priced apartment, and put everything he hadn’t already put in a storage unit into his car.

Richie’s job at his college’s radio station had been over the second he walked across that stage, and his lease would be up a week after that. The way the end of his last semester had gone, he hadn’t been able to get a job lined up in time for him to find a new place. So, when his mother had called a few weeks before graduation offering to let Richie come back to Derry to stay with them until he heard back from any jobs, he’d had no choice but to say yes. He packed up all his things and drove across the country to a tiny, middle of nowhere town that he hadn’t been back to in nearly four years.

It had been four long, strange years since he’d been back to Derry, Maine. Back to the place where he used to ride his bike everywhere, where he would splash around in the quarry, where he’d met his oldest friends. It was also the place where he first learned what it was like to get the shit beaten out of him for just being who he was.

No, Richie had not been back to Derry in a very long time, and that was by design. He’d worked very hard to make sure that he stayed as far away from that town as he possibly could, and now here he was, returning back to her gaping, suffocating maw. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d spoken to any of his old friends. He was sure they were off doing important, successful things with their lives, far away from Derry. Far away from him. He couldn’t blame them. The Richie of now was very different from the Richie who ran away from Derry, and that Richie was very different from the Richie who they had befriended so long ago.

And yet, while Richie might have changed drastically over the years, Derry had not. It was almost as if the entire town was encased in a bubble, where nothing new came in, and nothing old ever left. When Richie finally drove past the “Welcome To Derry” sign, it was just as faded and peeling as he remembered. The streets still had the same uneven asphalt that threatened to shake apart entire cars. He recalled old, dusty memories he hadn’t thought about in years driving down the streets. There was the alley where they'd patched up Ben after finding him bleeding after a run in with Bowers. There was the pharmacy, and the movie theatre, and the Paul Bunyan statue that used to scare the shit out of Richie when he was younger for reasons he no longer remembered.

When he pulled up to his childhood home, he was almost taken aback by how little it had changed there as well. He hugged his mother when she ran out to greet him, and allowed his father to clap him on the shoulder. Together they moved his last couple of boxes into his childhood bedroom.

This was really the only thing in the house that was significantly different. He’d either packed or gotten rid of most of his belongings when he went to college, so the walls and shelves were mostly bare. The bed had fresh, plain sheets and coverings. The room itself felt stale and unused.

“We figured it was a good idea to make this a guest room of sorts after you left,” his mother explained. “All of your things are in the closet though, in case you wanted to sort through them.”

“Thanks, Mom,” he replied, gently.

She gave him an understanding sort of smile and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll leave you to it. Let me know if you need anything.”

With that, Richie was left alone.

He opened the closet door. Sure enough, most of his old comics and action figures were on the top shelf, a few old random shirts hanging from the rod. Something caught his eye, however; an old shoebox pushed into the top corner of the shelf, almost completely hidden by shadow. He reached up and pulled it down, blowing dust off the top. When he pulled off the lid, he couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips. Inside were a random assortment of cassette tapes, thrown haphazardly into the box by a much younger Richie. He pulled out the top most one, instantly recognizing the handwriting on it as Beverly Marsh’s. Bev had loved to make tapes in high school for him to play in his shitty car while they drove around town. He rubbed a thumb over the neat, loopy letters. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d spoken to Bev. He suddenly missed her like a lung.

Richie shook his head, and put the tape back in the box, placing the whole thing on the bed. He looked around at all the boxes around his room.

He spun around until he found where he’d set his backpack down, digging in one of the side pockets until he found his rarely used Swiss Army knife. He figured he might as well start unpacking. He searched the stack of boxes to find the one labeled “clothes.”

He found it sitting at the bottom of the pile. Of course.

He set the pocket knife down on the window sill, but something made him do a double take. On the edge, barely noticeable in the shadow, was a place on the edge of the window where the white paint had been rubbed clean off, revealing the wood underneath.

Richie recognized this as damage from him climbing out of his window almost every night when he was younger. Climbing out his window and getting on his bike to climb into Eddie’s room without his mom noticing, to be more specific.

He may have fallen out of touch with his childhood friends over the years, but he pointedly hadn’t spoken to Eddie since the night he left for college. He gently touched the exposed wood, remembering how his heart had been full of a peculiar, sinking feeling as he’d climbed out of this window for the last time, knowing that he was going to tell his best friend goodbye forever because he was never coming back to Derry if he could help it. Yeah, and look how long that fucking lasted, he thought, bitterly. He turned around and set to pulling his box of clothes free, but his thoughts still swirled dangerously around his head.

What was Eddie even up to these days?

He grabbed the pocket knife and kneeled down, pulling a blade out and digging it into the tape holding the box shut.

Was Eddie still upset at Richie? Did he even still think of him at all?

The knife caught on a snag in the tape. Richie tugged hard.

Does Eddie know that Richie lo-

The knife suddenly pulls free, gliding through the tape and sliding painfully across the tops of his fingers. Richie jumps back with a hiss, dropping the knife as blood immediately springs forth from the wound, a few drops of red dripping onto the carpet. He looked around the room, and seeing no immediate solutions, jammed his injured fingers into his mouth and rushed down the stairs to find his mother.

“Richie, please get your hand out of your mouth,” she said as he entered the room. He pulled his fingers out with a pop.

“Do we have any band aids?” he asks, brandishing his wound. His mother looked at his hand, shook her head, and handed him a tissue from the table next to the couch.

“We need to go get more. What did you do?”

Richie awkwardly scratches the hair at the base of his neck.

“I got distracted cutting open boxes.”

His mother sighed in a tired sort of way.

“I won’t even ask. You’ll have to go to the pharmacy or something. Do you remember the way?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll be right back,” he said, wrapping the tissue around his fingers and grabbing his keys from the hook by the door.

The drive to the pharmacy was a short one.

The bell above the door chimed the same tone that it always had. Richie made a beeline for the aisle with the sign ‘bandages’ advertised above it, and quickly scanned the shelves for the bandaids. He found them and turned, speed walking to the checkout counter. He set the box down with a little too much force, which startled the clerk behind the counter.

“Find everything okay?” the clerk asked, his voice slightly shaky and… familiar?

Richie looked up. He made eye contact with a pair of warm brown eyes surrounded by dark circles and the remnants of what might have once been freckles long ago. Eyes that he recognized as belonging to-

“Eddie?”

Eddie looked taken aback, like he’d seen a ghost.

“Richie? What the hell are you doing here?”

The situation immediately felt strange to Richie. What the hell was Eddie doing in Derry?

“Uh, buying bandaids? I cut my hand, I guess.” He held up his injured hand to punctuate his point. Eddie’s eyes drifted to the bloody tissue, then snapped back to Richie with a look of confusion. He slowly reached over to scan the bandaids, gaze never leaving Richie’s face. He looked like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“I mean, what the fuck are you doing here? In Derry?” The last word came out as a sort of half hiss, half whisper.

“I could ask you the same question.”

Eddie blinked, like he didn’t hear him. Richie sighed.

“I’m in town until I hear back from a job in Cali,” he reluctantly answered. He wrestled a few loose bills out of his back pocket and slid them over in a wad. Eddie took them numbly and looked down to count them. Richie took the time to really examine this older Eddie.

First of all, he looked so tired. The circles under his eyes were a dark, bruise like purple. His shoulders were slumped forward, like he was struggling to hold himself up. His skin was paler than Richie remembered, like Eddie spent all of his time inside, away from any kind of sunlight. He looked like a deflated version of the loud, neurotic boy that Richie used to know.

But, despite his pallad exterior, Richie saw the sharp glint in his eye that he’d recognize anywhere. The glint that showed how quick witted he was, how he was always thinking. His mouth quirked in the way that showed he was uncomfortable.

Was Richie making him uncomfortable?

“So, uh, how’s Ms. K? I’m sure she’ll be glad to know that I’m back in town.”

Eddie’s face turned a peculiar shade of red.

“She died about a month ago, actually, but thank you for asking.” His tone was calm and even, but Richie could tell he was pissed.

Way to go Trashmouth, he thought. You’ve barely been talking and you’ve already ruined everything.

“Oh… I had no idea.”

“Yeah, how would you?” Eddie’s tone was very flat.

Richie’s mouth felt suddenly dry. His bandaids were thrust back across the counter. He grabbed them, almost having completely forgotten about why he’d come in in the first place. He turned to leave, but thought better of it.

“I’m sorry for your loss. It’s good to see you, Eddie.”

Eddie looked up.

“Yeah. I’ll see you around Richie.”

He did not sound like he had any intention of seeing Richie around. Richie just nodded and walked out the door and back to his car.

“This is fine,” he whispered to himself once he was safely in the driver’s seat of his car. “It’s fine that Eddie probably hates me. It’s fine.”

It was not fine.

#reddie #it 2017 #it 2019 #it stephen king #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #au #my writing

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affectionatehannibal · 5 years ago

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Bill Denbrough is a story-teller.

Need somebody to tell you what happened on last night’s showing of Saturday Night Live? Richie Tozier’ll do the job just fine, sure, but if you find him chances are good you’ll find Denbrough too, and he’ll make you feel as though you’re in the audience, staring right at the actors and actresses themselves. Didn’t feel like reading a book, but have to turn in an essay about it in an hour? Bill won’t write the essay for you, but he’ll tell the story as though he lived it himself and make it come alive clearer than any movie or SparkNotes article ever could. Words are both his home and weapon of choice- they are where he goes to rest and what he uses to look the world squarely in the eye, accept it for the shit-show it is, and continue on. It is because of all this, and because of their love and reverence for him, that Richie and Stan so easily believe his story about Georgie’s reappearance. And it is because of this that Bill manages to convince both of them to spend their Saturday locked inside the Derry City Library, scouring book after book for an explanation to their situation.

The table they’ve occupied for the better part of two hours now is completely filled with books. There are some on psychology and mental health, others on poltergeists and demons, ESP and clairvoyance, ley-lines, mediums, spirits, psychics, religions of all kinds, and all other things paranormal or strange. Every now and then, Stan looks up from his notes and glares at the mess before him, as though willing it to disappear. His side of the table is neatly arranged, with a hefty stack of books on his left and pages of notes on his right. Periodically, Richie stands up quietly and takes a stroll through the shelves, shaking excess energy out through his hands and making idle chatter with disgruntled library-goers who would much rather be left alone. His side of the table is busy but not particularly messy, with a few books open at once and a page filled with messy handwriting and scribbled doodles sitting off to the side. Every few minutes, Bill glances to his right to see how Georgie is fairing in their new surroundings and his stomach drops, like he’s seeing his dead brother’s figure for the first time. His side of the table is empty save for one book, opened to one of the earlier pages, his chair angled as far to the left as possible.

All three (living) boys jump as a large pile of books are dropped on the table. Mr. Cunningham, Derry’s only librarian, dusts his hands off and sighs. He stares daggers at the dozens of books already scattered across the table, imagining all the shelving he’ll be doing once the boys leave. Stan coughs to grab his attention and offers a slow, easy smile. “Thanks a lot, Mr. Cunningham. We really appreciate your help.”

Mr. Cunningham smiles back, previous displeasure forgotten. Bill and Richie share a glance, and Bill doesn’t try to hide his grin when Richie sticks a finger down his throat. If Bill’s talent is storying telling, Stan’s is kiss-assery. “My pleasure, Mr. Uris. Let me know if you need anything else,” he turns to Bill and Richie. Richie opens his mouth to say something, but Bill gives his foot a good warning kick before anything can come out. “You boys make sure to clean up after yourselves.”

Richie, lounging in the chair on Bill’s other side, pretends to shoot the librarian with double finger guns as he walks away. “God,” he groans. “Why do adults always look at you like they want you to suck their dicks?”

Stan smirks as he sorts through the new books, distributing an even amount to each of them. “Someone should warn them they’ll have to get in line.”

“Wowza wowza,” Richie grins. “Who gets to go first, me or Billy boy here?”

Stan absentmindedly flips through the pages of a book. “Who said you would be taking turns?”

Richie considers that for a moment. He leans forward in his seat, his eyes following Stan’s long, graceful fingers as they turn page after page. His face turns a splotchy, excited red, like he wishes Stan’s fingers were busy doing something else. He coughs. “Is it weird to get a hard-on in a library?”

Stanley doesn’t look up as he neatly writes something onto a sheet of paper. “No. I’m sure Mr. Cunningham will be very flattered to know you think so much of him.”

Bill clears his throat.

“Sorry,” Stan offers Bill a small, guilty smile. He shoots a glare in Richie’s direction. “Let’s get back to work.”

“Wuh-wuh-well,” Bill starts, looking down at the single book in front of him. He’d picked it from the pile on a whim, its plain, weathered cover certainly not making it the most interesting book of the bunch. Nonetheless, the first page had caught his attention and managed to hold it for a good two hours. He places it in the middle of the table, and Richie and Stan lean forward to get a better look at it. “I duh-duh-duh-oh-oh-n’t think w-w-we n-need to luh-luh-ook a-anymore.”

Stan raises an eyebrow. “This is a book about ghosts, Bill.”

“Har de har har,” Richie mimes a laugh, but his face is pale. “That’s real funny, Denbrough. You know, I’m pretty sure I saw the ghost of Stan’s virginity in the back of my mom’s Honda Accord. Should we be worrying about that, too, ‘cause I think the warranty is about to-”

“Wuh-wuh-why,” Bill interrupts.“d-did we even geh-geh-get b-books about th-th-this sah-sah-stuff if you guh-guys th-think it’s suh-suh-something eh-eh-else?”

Stan looks at Bill, eyes full of pity and exhaustion. “Come on. You can’t really think George-, a ghost is following you around.”

“Wuh-wuh-ood y-you rather him b-be here b-b-because of Pah-Pah-Pah-Pah-”

“Uh,” now it’s Richie’s turn to interrupt. “I’d like to take a minute to remind the audience that we killed that son of a bitch, like, a long time ago.

Stan slowly sits back in his seat, staring off into the distance, past Richie’s head. He shudders, like he sees something there that has no resemblance to the quiet rows of books that surround them. “We don’t know for sure he’s dead.”

Richie lets out a strangled laugh. His face is a sickly white, like he’s going to need to know the quickest way to the bathroom in a minute or two. “Do you remember what he looked like before he fell down that stinkin’ hole in the earth? If that motherfucker’s alive, I’m-”

“S-s-so you th-think it’s a guh-guh-ghost, t-too?”

Richie frowns. “Now, listen, I never said that.”

“Th-th-then wuh-wuh- what ?”

“I mean,” Richie shifts anxiously in his seat. He places two of his books in the middle of the table, on top of Bill’s and flips through them for a moment, looking for specific pages. “take a look at this. It could be somethin’ like high levels of mold in your house or, hell, I don’t know, stress-induced hallucinations or some shit. But it’s not ghosts and it’s not the fucking clown.”

“I’m nuh-nuh-nuh-not kuh-kuh-razy.”

“That’s not what he’s saying, Bill.” Stan takes one of Richie’s books, eyes scanning it hopefully.

“Of course not,” Richie worriedly runs a hand through his hair. It falls over his eyes and, for a moment, he looks just like he did five years ago. Scared and small and not at all ready to face the ugly truth that lives under Derry. He takes a deep, steadying breath, and the resemblance is gone.“I just- if it is a ghost, and I’m not saying I think it is, what next? We get a cool van and a talking dog, buy Bev a purple dress and call ourselves the Mystery Gang?”

Bill sits up straight in his chair and puts on the face he used to get them all to follow him into Neibolt all those years ago. “Wuh-wuh-we’re nah-nah-not t-telling th-the uh-uh-others about Juh-Juh-Georgie.”

Stan and Richie stare at Bill for a moment, eyes wide with shock (in Richie’s case) and frustration (in Stan’s). Stan closes his eyes and rubs his temples.

Richie’s shock quickly simmers into hurt and quiet indignation. Bill might be the leader of this operation, but they were a team of seven members, no matter what. “Now, wait just a minute-”

A small, quiet cough from the end of the table reminds the three of them that they are not alone. They aren’t in the clubhouse or the Barrens, or even crammed together, knees overlapping, on Bill’s bed. They’re just three boys with voices that are filled with too much fear and unspoken anger for a library, speaking too loudly about things better discussed in private.

They looked up to see a girl, about their age, glancing uncomfortably at each of their faces. For a moment, Bill thinks she stares right past him, right at Georgie, but then her eyes reach Stan’s and her face visibly brightens, like she’s found a lifeboat amongst a storm of angsty teenagers and sad, invisible, dead boys. “Stan! Sorry. For interrupting, I mean. I just, uh. Do you guys have,” she holds out a tiny slip of paper to Stan. “that?”

Stan takes a deep breath, pushing down the stress and worry their conversation had created enough to force his mouth into a tight smile. “I don’t think so,” he stands, eager to leave. “I can help you look for it though, if you want.”

Relief floods her face. “Would you really?”

“Of course,” Stan turns to face Richie and Bill. He opens his mouth as if to say something, then closes it again. He shoots them both a frustrated glare. “I’ll be back.”

Richie slumps in his chair and watches Stan and the girl walk away. He can tell by the tightness in Stan’s shoulders that he hasn’t forgotten what they’ve been talking about, but his face is light and he says something that makes the girl laugh. A few steps later they’re out of sight and Richie slumps even further down into his chair, so that Bill can only see the top of his head. “Who was that?”

Bill crosses his arms on the table and puts his head down on top of them. Georgie watches him do so. “S-s-some new guh-guh-irl in one of S-s-stan’s c-c-classes. Puh-puh-atty, I th-think.”

Richie glares moodily at his corner of the table. Fucking ghosts, messing everything up. Fucking clowns. Fucking Derry. He waits for his stomach to calm down before speaking again. “This fucking sucks, man.”

Bill glances at Georgie and fights the urge to cry. “T-t-tell muh-muh-me a-about it.”

#u know what to do :')#stozier #bichie #stenbrough #stenbrozier #stanpat #richie tozier #bill denbrough #stan uris #patricia blum #georgie denbrough #it #poly losers #mine

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eddieeatsass · 6 years ago

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Hanbrough - Mike stumbles upon one of Bill's sketchbooks (maybe he left it over after a sleepover) and *a gust of wind blows it open or hey Mike Hanlon is allowed to be flawed and curious* he notices that he is unusually prominent in Bill's drawings... ♥ ilysmbtweeee!

“See you at school tomorrow! Bye guys!” Mike shouted out thedoor, waving cheerfully at the receding car pulling out of his driveway.

Bill and Stan had just left after spending the night on theHanlon’s farm, which had become somewhat of a ritual over the past few months. EverySaturday the three would gather at Mike’s house in the afternoon and make theirway out to the barn in the evening. They’d set up sleeping bags in the hay loftand spend the night whispering to each other between bouts of disrupted sleep. Sometimesthe other losers would join, they were always invited to, but usually it wasjust the three of them. Bev was a girl and wasn’t allowed to sleepover with theboys, the Hanlon’s farm was too far for Eddie to sneak out to, Richie usuallyopted to sneak into Eddie’s room and keep him company anyway, and Ben babysathis cousins on the weekends.

Mike stretched his arms up above him, yawning as he peeredout the window, looking to the barn they’d occupied last night. He decided now wasas good a time as any to clean up their mess. He opened his front door, lettinghis dog, Mr. Chips, run out in front of him into the sun-kissed grass of theearly afternoon. Mike followed Mr. Chips around for a while, watching as hestopped to smell certain spots, tail wagging when he’d find a particularly goodspot of dirt to dig in. Eventually they arrived at the entrance to the barn andparted ways, Mr. Chips running off into the field as Mike made his way into theold building.

Thankfully, they hadn’t made too much of a mess the nightbefore. Their sleeping bags and pillows were still in their spots with somegarbage strewn about from when they’d eaten their weight in junk food, but allin all it wouldn’t take long to get it all together.

Mike began rolling one of the sleeping bags up when he feltsomething hard tucked into the Nylon. He pulled out a hardcover spiral boundsketch book, already open to a specific page.

On the paper, in light graphite scribbles, were threesketches of Mike’s sleeping form. He smiled to himself as he observed the caretaken to get all his features right. He wondered how long these must have takenBill to draw. He’d known he was talented, but not this talented.

He began turning the pages mindlessly, looking over the variousdrawings Bill had done over the past few months. Some were abstract, somereplicas of scenery around Derry, but most of them were of their group. Eddiemid laugh as Richie posed like a walrus with chopsticks in his mouth, Ben andBeverly tucked into each other on the couch, Stan lighting the menorah during Hanukkah.The intimacy of the pictures blew him away.

As he continued to observe the sketches, he started tonotice how often he was featured. Most of the singular pictures were of him,and even in the group pictures, the focus always seemed to be on his form. Hisfeatures would be fleshed out in detail as the rest of the Loser faded into thebackground.

Mike’s heart did a little somersault at the thought of Billpaying special attention to him. With an auditory gulp and shaky fingers, heflipped all the way to the end of the sketch book, stopping at the last pagewhen something caught his eye.

The page was erupting in color, unlike the rest of thegreyscale portraits that had littered the book up until then. Reds, pinks,whites, and deep purples complimented the black shapes, surrounding theportrait in hearts and question marks. It had a cartoon vibe, stylistic in itschoice, but what really made his breath catch was the realization that theportrait in the middle was a picture of him and Bill. It was a recreation of aphoto he recalls seeing in Bill’s bedroom, a snapshot of the two of them fromwhen they were just 13. Below it were words that made Mike freeze.

“Will you be my Valentine?”

It was so stupidly cute Mike almost forgot to breathe. He snappedthe book closed as if Bill could suddenly see through it, as if closing itmeant he had time to think before he reacted.

A nudge on his leg caused Mike to jump, falling backwardsonto one of the sleeping bags. He searched for the culprit and came face toface with a slobbery kiss, Mr. Chips had returned from his adventure.

Mike started laughing at himself, his laughter elevating whenhe thought to the absurdity of the situation. Bill wanted Mike to be his Valentine.More than that, he’d been planning on asking him with a fucking handmadeValentine. Stupidly cute.

Mike sighed as he stood back up, patting the back of his pantsto wipe off the dirt he’d collected from falling. He continued gathering up thethings from the barn, wobbling back to his house as he tried to balanced threesleeping bags, a bag of garbage, and the most important thing he’d ever held inhis hands.

Bill slugged towards his locker, letting himself be bumpedaround by the bustling teens around him. Today was Valentine’s Day. Today, he’dplanned on finally confessing his feelings for his best friend. But today, hisplan had been ruined when he couldn’t find his sketch book anywhere in hishouse. He’d finally admitted defeat when Stan had honked the horn from where hewaited outside to pick Bill up for school.

When he got to his locker he slowly put in his combo, drawingout his actions as if that would make the day go by with less emotionalturmoil. He opened the door, expecting to find the History text book he needed,but instead his eyes landed on a different book. A familiar book. His sketchbook!

Immediately dropping his backpack to the ground, his handsshot into the locker to check if what he was seeing was real. He was sure he’dbrought his sketch book home with him this weekend. He’d been using it at Mike’s,hadn’t he?

He flipped through the pages as if to prove to himself thatit was really there, sighing in relief when everything seemed to be in place,everything except… the last picture. The edges of the page were torn wheresomeone had ripped the paper out. Bill’s heart leaped into his throat at the implication.

Someone knew Bill had a crush on Mike. Someone was going touse this to blackmail him. Someone was going to-

The sound of a throat clearing interrupted his spiraling. Helooked up to see Mike, leaning against the row of lockers, genuine smile andkindness in his eyes.

“You left that at my place on Saturday. I hope it’s okay, Iput it back in your locker this morning.” Mike supplied.

Bill nodded slowly, his eyes unblinking and throat dry.

“Cool. Hey, do you want to hang out later? We could go getmilkshakes at Ronnie’s Diner after school?” Mike asked.

“Uh, s-sure.” Bill stuttered out, his head still reeling.

“Awesome, I’ll meet you back here after school.” Mike turnedto walk away, stopping after a few feet and spinning back around.

“Oh! Also, here.” Mike pulled something out of his pocket,handing it to Bill before finally disappearing down the hallway.

Bill watched as he walked away, only reverting his eyes backdown to the paper in his hands when he couldn’t avoid it any longer. It wasfolded up, hiding the contents within, but Bill knew what it was.

Mike had found his sketch book. Mike had seen the picture,gotten weirded out, and tried to find a gentle way to let Bill down.

With a shaky breath, Bill stilled himself for the worst. Heslowly peeled the folds apart, heart hammering in his chest as more and more ofhis drawing became visible.

Sure enough, there it was. His Valentine, with a smilingBill and Mike staring back at him. Only there was something different about thepicture, an addition that Bill hadn’t added.

Floating above Mike’s head was a little speech bubble,holding a single word.

Yes.

#hanbrough #hanbrough prompt #hanbrough drabble #bill denbrough #mike hanlon #my writing #I LOVE YOU BABY THANK YOU FOR ALWAYS HAVING THE BEST PROMPTS #jacksbrak #ask

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andaleduardo · 6 years ago

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59 for the prompt thing!!

59. “I could punch you right now.”

Thank you so much for send this in, I’ve had such a fun time writing it! And I’m sorry it’s coming so late, I hope it was worth the wait :) I know nothing about sports btw so I blame google for incorrect information

Summary: Eddie and Richie have a combat sports’ class together.

Important: Despite the events in this that may give off vibes of Eddie being abusive or having really agressive episodes, I promise my intentions weren’t those, he doesn’t really want to hurt anyone. He’s that feisty firecracker that gets angry easily and wants to punch things, not people! He does punch Richie, yes, but I think under these circumstances, anyone would have done the same if they has just met the person. It just happens that they’re into each other here.

Throw me a punch, I’ll fallfor you (AO3)

“Alright, everyone!” The instructor,Mike, has a sturdy voice to go along with his impressive strong body.

Eddie used to feel intimated (if notflustered) at the sight of his trainer back at the beginning of his classeswith the guy. Now, he knows it’s more of a façade, a slightly less usual sideof Mike to impose respect upon his students.

Eddie got into combat sports as away of learning how to defend himself. He could have chosen to takeself-defence classes only, sure, but he is also very much into sports. In thisspecific class, he is taught a variety of fighting techniques from many sports,like boxing, wrestling or martial arts. This way he can take out his daily rageand inner unhealthy anger while learning useful moves to take over any guytaller than him. Which is pretty much all of them.

He also has some anger issues, asper say. It got to the point where Eddie couldn’t take the subway anymore toget to work because he’d have to physically restrain himself from punchingevery jerk who kept pushing him aggressively. The height doesn’t’ help, alwaysa factor that screams ‘I can’t fight you back so you can disrespect me!’.

Well, Eddie had enough of that. Nowit’s been over a year since he signed himself up for fighting classes, and hislooks have changed, enough that no one really wants to mess up with him when he’swearing more revealing clothing. The kick boxing lessons, mostly, shaped himwell, along with all the other physical activity he indulges in, like running.His legs, arms and shoulders definitely show off his abilities and serve has awarning.

Too bad he chose to wear a bigsweater and sweatpants today.

“So, today’s class will be a littledifferent.” Mike keeps projecting his voice around the big gym room. His back isfacing the mirrored wall and, once again, Eddie can’t help but ogle up his darkskin reflecting the white lights in that perfect, distracting manner. He canfeel his face a little hot, despite having yet to start sweating.

“You might be wondering who theother half of today’s class is.”

With that statement, Eddie’sattention finally falls on the other side of the room. He stares at the other eightpeople that fill up the gym besides his own classmates. By his side, he hearsBeverly whispering.

“I’ve never seen them around here.”

Ben quietly adds “Me neither.”

Eddie thinks about saying somethingback, but his tongue gets tied at the last second when his eyes fall on a newsubject of observation.

There’s a guy that looks like aleaf, way easy to knock down if someone blows air his way.His pale skin contrasts harshly with the darkness of his hair. He’s staring intentlyat the floor, clearly not listening to a thing Mike is saying, and he lookskind of dumb standing there in his dark purple hoodie and dark grey shortspaired up with checkerboard socks.

Eddie’s first coherent thought is thathe looks like an idiot. The second one is ‘Theprofile view certainly makes up for that…’ as he shamelessly checks him outsilently, eyes trailing over the slight arch of the man’s nose.

Completely distracted, Eddie doesn’tpay attention to Mike’s voice.

“To my right side,” The trainergestures a hand to Eddie’s side of the room, where he stands along with his twofriends and the few other familiar faces he sees on a weekly basis. “I have oneof my advanced classes.”

Never tearing his deadpan stare awayfrom the stranger on the other side of the room, Eddie watches as the lankyman’s eyes carelessly lift from the floor and travel the unknown faces of Eddie’sgroup.

‘Fuck,he’s even more attractive from the front.’ It’sa dumb thought, Eddie has a lot of those.

He fails to react quickly enough andhis breath hitches when their eyes meet. But god forbid if Eddie so much asflinched. With his cold, neutral eyes, Eddie glares right back and waits forthe other guy to look away. But that doesn’t happen. The man’s uninterestedposture changes, his back straightens, and his lips lift up in a teasing smirk.

‘Whothe fuck is this guy?’

Eddie feels himself get defensive (andred) alarmingly fast. Is he being mocked?

“To my left, I introduce you ournewest students. We’ve had a handful of classes so far, which, I’m sad toinform, makes you beginners.”

A few chuckles emerge from bothgroups, but for Eddie and the stranger, a staring contest seems more importantat the moment.

Eddie squares up a little, unsuccessfullytries to make himself look taller (it’s a big issue for him, okay?) and liftsup one eyebrow while stuffing both hands on the front pocket of his sweater.

If the way he’s being stared at isn’tenough to keep him on the edge and annoyed, the fucker on the other side of theroom decides to drag his eyes up and down Eddie’s body and lick his lips,somehow keeping the smirk plastered on his face, which only makes him lookextremely stupid and desperate. But holy shit, if that doesn’t heat up Eddie’sinsides and almost makes him lose his unbothered disguise.

So, definitely not being mocked.

He hears Bev’s quiet giggles by hisside but doesn’t give them a second thought.

Mike claps his hands to gather upeveryone’s attention. The sound makes Eddie jolt up, surprised, and uncertainlyturn to face his instructor with an inevitable frown. He’s probably blushing,too, but it’s not like he can help it. His jaw twitches with frustration as hetries to focus.

“Now, as you can see, I’ve gatheredyou all here, beginners and advanced.” Mike continues his explanations whilewalking mindlessly from side to side with both hands behind his back. “I’vedecided to pair you up for learning purposes. I’m sure my advanced studentswill be able to teach you something today.” He speaks directly to the beginnersbefore turning to face Eddie’s side. “And I’m sure you guys will be able torecognise your own past mistakes on our newbies.”

Eddie nods in response, trying hard toignore the holes forming on the side of his face from the jerk’s consistentstaring from the other side of the room.

“We’ll be working in pairs, I’llgive you more directions as we go but the goal today is for you to learn fromeach other. You can start by warming up. And make a few introductions whileyou’re at it. Get to know your enemy a little better.”

Great, socializing is just whatEddie signed up for with this gym membership.

As usual, he follows Beverly and Bento their left corner near the mirrors to do casual muscle warm ups. He forceshimself to keep his back to the rest of the class, or he knows he’ll be lookingplaces he shouldn’t. But turns out his friends, or so he thought they were, arein a mood to tease him. After a few minutes of torso, shoulder and armrotations and stretches, Beverly elbows his side, knocking the air out ofEddie’s chest.

“What was that for?” He hisses ather. Beverly simply nods her head past Eddie’s back, and he can almost guesswhat she’s going to say.

“Looks like you’ve got yourself anadmirer.”

Eddie fights against the urge to takea look. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t, cowboy. He hasn’tstopped staring at your ass since you turned around.” She rolls her eyes at himbefore resuming her exercises. Eddie flips her the bird discreetly and triesnot to feel too invaded now that he knows he’s being checked out.

Ben also steals a glance behindEddie’s back, and by this point Eddie’s more than ready to snap at both of themto quit being so obvious. Instead, he shuts the urge down and starts with hiswrist stretches.

“I feel kind of bad for him,though.” Ben speaks with a sided soft smile. Eddie drops both arms and sighs,throwing his head back.

“Yeah.” Bev agrees. “He looks like he’dpay you to crush his head with your thighs anytime.”

“Bev!”Eddie screeches, feeling the blood pump up to his ears. “You can’t just saystuff like that when we’re in public!” He keeps his angry ranting at her, sheonly laughs back. Eddie notices Ben’s face pale up at something behind his back,and he stops talking abruptly, assuming that the stranger was coming up theirway. Eddie stifles up a groan, but once he hears Mike’s, now softer, voiceapproaching them, he feels his shoulders relax.

“Hi, Mike!” Bev greets himcheerfully.

“Hey guys, how are you doing?”

Truth is, Mike is more than theirtrainer. They’ve all become close friends during the past year of weeklymeetings. That doesn’t mean Eddie can’t think Mike’s hot, because he is, and heknows that his friends think the same. Mike knows it, too, and they all have agood laugh out of it. It’s just how they work.

“Eddie has a crush.”

Ben, for fuck’s sake, Ben says it and throws an arm aroundEddie’s shoulders. He feels betrayed.

“No,I fucking do not. Don’t listen to them, Mike.” He pushes Ben’s arm away, stillvery much making sure not to turn around and have any possible eye contact withthe subject of their conversation.

With a warm laugh, Mike crosses hisarms. “And who, may I ask, is this not-a-crush?”

Eddie mumbles and curses under hisbreath while pinching the bridge of his nose. He waits for either of his‘awful’ friends to answer for him, but everyone just stares at him expectantly.So, Eddie sighs in defeat.

“See the stick-figure guy with thepurple sweater?” He whispers through his frown. Mike pretends to look at all ofhis students for a while, then nods. Eddie continues. “He was just staring, okay? With a creepy smirk thattotally never in a million years wouldwork on me.” He rushes through the end while bending down to grab his knee up,keeping a perfect balance and feeling the pull on his thigh.

“Are you sure?” Mike asks with fakewondering. “He sort of fits your type.”

“That’s it, I’m quitting. You guysare the worst friends.”

Mike laughs and winks at him. “It’sa shame I’m the best teacher, though.” And starts walking away.

Oh no.

“Don’t you dare do anything. Mike!” Eddiewhispers sharply and stares at Mike’s back as he walks away. He feels Bev’sweight on his shoulder.

“Sounds like today’s class will beinteresting for you. Have fun.” And off she goes, skipping in her steps tointroduce herself to one of the new students.

After the individual warm ups areover with, Mike starts by ordering everyone to form pairs. Ben gives Eddie asmall pat on the back before making his way to a neat looking guy who seems tohave been dragged here against his own will. Eddie stays behind, feelingchildish for not being able to act like a normal adult and go up to anyone. It’slike he’s gone back in time too many years, to the days when he’d be left forlast on gym class. He decides to stride over to the wire-wheeled cart thatstores the softest, smallest, beginner’s appropriate gloves and pads.

From the corner of his eye, he apprehensivelywatches Mike approach the weird/hot/idiot stranger. They chat for a total of 4seconds, before pale guy is looking around and, once more, locking eyes withEddie. Eddie tries, to no avail, to pretend like he wasn’t caught staring bysnapping his head back to the cart and retrieving the cleanest looking pair ofgloves and pads.

He also pretends not to see the manapproaching, faking surprise when the stranger invades his personal space.

“Hey, darlin. Looks like we’repartners.” He says smoothly.

Eddie struggles with the grip on theboxing gear, close to letting it fall, and reluctantly turns his neck to starein disbelief at the man.

Okay, he’s taller than expected.

“I think I need to agree tothat first. And ‘darling’ is not a great way to convince me.” Eddieemphasizes the nickname.

“What’d you rather have me callyou?” The guy leans his weight on the cart. With his free hand, Eddie rushesto hold the cart in place before it starts to slowly roll away. “Sporty?Cutie? I could go with Master, Sir, Boss. You’re in charge of me, today.” Hewinks, then, and Eddie lets go of the cart, letting it stride away under theman’s weight. He tries not to look too entertained when the guy gets startledby the movement and struggles to keep himself upright without falling.

“How about Eddie? It’s myname.” Eddie starts walking away, already knowing he’ll be followed, so hekeeps talking. “And I’m not the boss of you, let’s try and keep thisprofessional and act like the adults we are, shall we?” What a moral,Eddie.

“You sure sound a little bossy,Eds.” The nameless man smirks. “Whatever you say, though. I’mRichie.” Richie, apparently, holds out his hand for Eddie to shake.Instead, all Eddie does is to toss the gloves on Richie’s outstretched handmore forcefully than needed.

“It’s Eddie.” He says before slidinghis own hands on the pads’ holders. “So, I assume you’ve already done thesekind of pair exercises?” He asks once Richie’s got the gloves on properly.

“Guess you could say I’m an expert.”Richie replies and flexes one arm over his shoulder, even though it’scompletely submerged by the baggy sweater.

Eddie lifts up one eyebrow.

“Impressive. Why don’t you proveit?” He immediately squares up and holds both pads firmly between their bodies.Richie seems slightly surprised by the suggestive tone and upfront posture, buthe quickly recovers and gets into position.

If he’s going to be a tease, Eddiecan be one back.

They’re at this for a while, butEddie isn’t being the nicest. Richie is doing exactly what he’s supposed to,punching the pads. He’s got a good technique, not that Eddie would ever tellhim that, so he tries to push limits by screaming at him between hits. Thingslike:

“Is that all you got?”

“C’mon, that’s a joke.”

“Harder! You’re not even trying!”

And when 10 minutes pass by, Richieis sweating, frustrated and a little huffy. His good natured smirks are gone.In the beginning, he tried to be a good sport, started by throwing off hiscrude jokes and stupid comments, but he gave that up once he got riled up byEddie’s demands.

Of course, Eddie is beaming.

“You’re not the worst, but clearlystill an amateur.” Eddie says while untying the pads of his hands. Hisbreathing is jagged, but Richie’s way worse. “Here, let me show you.” He holdshis hand out, and so, Richie tosses him the gloves, clearly annoyed with havinghis butt kicked only by words.

Once they’ve both traded positions,Eddie wastes no time in throwing a heavy fist right into Richie’s unpreparedgrip. He stumbles backwards on his feet when his arm is pushed back against hisown mid-section, taking the air out of his chest with a little ‘oof’.

Eddie can see the exact momentRichie starts to get really bothered.His nostrils flare, shoulders square back, and his jaw tenses up. If he could,Eddie would smile victoriously.

With a fake neutral expression thatbegs to be cracked into laughs, Eddie asks him. “Are you sure you can take it?You seem like you’re struggling.”

Richie scoffsand gets in position. “Yeah, right. Just get on with it.”

‘Show-off.’ Richiethinks.

Eddie keepsthrowing punch after punch with extra unneeded strength, Richie keepsstruggling to keep himself upright but never once backs down. By the end of theirnext 10 minute round, Richie’s neck veins are prominent with the need ofproving his worth, and droplets of sweat are dotting his face. Eddie isn’t farbehind.

Not too longafter this, Mike lets everyone have a break and leads the class into anothergym room with padded, softer floor. Eddie is familiar with it.

They’re doingfree combat. In other words, submission grappling moves. It makes him a littlenervous.

Eddie turns toRichie to ask him if he has ever even done something like this, but he findsthat Richie is no longer by his side. Eddie looks around in confusion beforefinding him ahead, chatting with the clean boy he saw early. The expression inRichie’s face is one between a frown and a smirk, as if he is conflicted withwhatever they were talking, while he slides his hands through the new pair ofgloves needed for their next practice.

Eddie has afeeling that Richie can be talking about him, and not in a good way. It’s justthe type of person Eddie is, anxiety catches him in social environments.

‘Chill out, he barely knows you.’

Eddieapproaches him slowly, not wanting to invade anyone’s conversation but ratherjust wanting to go get his own pair of gloves, stored in another cart nearRichie and the other boy. Before he can get close enough, Richie and his friendsplit up and he retrieves a second pair of gloves from the cart, striding isway to Eddie. He passes him the equipment without a word.

Eddie puts themon and murmurs a ‘thanks’ under his breath.

“Have youhad any class here, yet?” Eddie asks, genuinely wondering.

“We had acouple by now. Why?”

“Nothing.Just wasn’t sure how much of a beginner Mike meant.”

Both of them maketheir way to a free spot.

“Mike? Ourtrainer?” Richie asks, a smile finally making a reappearance. Eddie nods.“Didn’t know you were on the first name basis with the guy.”

Eddie stares athim for a moment, Richie is fixing up the felt straps around his wrists and hissmile seems a little different. Their tired breaths fill in the seconds ofsilence.

“Yeah,we’re pretty close friends.”

Richiechuckles. “Oh, guess it makes sense, now.”

Eddie looks athim quizzically. “What do you mean?”

Richie looks upfrom his hands and shrugs. “He told me you wanted to be paired up with metoday.”

“He what, now?” There’s a short circuit inEddie’s brain. It must be a pretty scary sight because Richie’s chuckles diedown and his smile falls.

“Hey now,no need to get mad, Eds. T'was just a joke, right? And it’s not that bad towork with me, admit it.” He asks, there’s a tint of something seriousbehind his playful tone.

Eddie scoffsbut contains his frustration. “I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at him. Hecould have simply pair us up, for fuck’s sake.”

“So, you’renot against it?”

Eddie eyes himsideways. “I never said that.” Richie clicks his tongue in responseand Eddie decides it’s best to change topics. “Ready to get your asskicked?”

“You know,that’s fine material for a sex joke but I’m passing it up ‘cause my ego’s waytoo hurt.”

“Ah, Isee. Finally admitting I’m better?”

“You know,Eds.” Richie ignores when Eddie corrects the nickname. “You really shouldn’tthink so high of yourself. But in the meantime, teach me some moves, will ya?”

The tensionbetween them seems to slip way after that, both of them falling into a fit ofgiggles before resuming their posture to be productive.

Eddie spendsthe next 20 minutes recreating the techniques he’s learnt that Richie hasn’t.They move systematically according to Eddie’s voice, and both of them areequally struggling with the amount of touch there’s involved. Eddie pushes itout of his mind, since he needs to set a plan for each grappling position andmanually move Richie’s limbs and body in the right places. Richie, however, isat his mercy. Never knowing where’s he’s going to be touched next, a millionspots catching fire from Eddie’s hands.

Each techniquestarts the same. Eddie will be the one in the advantaged side and manoeuvreRichie’s body until he’s got him into the submissive stance. Whether that’swith his arms pinned in unnatural angles, legs kicked out from under his body,or laying on the floor in various uncomfortable manners.

Eddie isn’tacting like a show-off, this time. He’s genuinely trying to be a good exampleand teacher so that Richie can gather up as much information as possible.

“Fuck.” Richiegroans after being thrown on the floor, yet another time. Eddie steps out fromabove him, leaving Richie laying there with his nose planted on the cushionedfloor and both arms falling heavily to his sides. “You keep kicking my buttover and over and I can’t even complain cause it’s hot.”

Eddie kicks hisside then, not too strongly. “Stop putting innuendos on everything.”

Richie turnshis head, so his cheek is planted on the floor instead, and he looks up atEddie. “But think about it! I could flirt my attacker into submission.”

Already fearingwhat’s about to come, Eddie runs a gloved hand under his nose. “I don’t thinkthat’s a thing.”

“That’sactually really clever, what the fuck.” Richie jumps on his feet and getscloser. Eddie gives a couple steps back. “Don’t run away from me.” He makesgrabby hands. “C’mon, attack me.” He talks happily.

Eddie lifts upone eyebrow, but he’s weak. He gets behind Richie and throws an arm over histhroat. Richie’s hands come up to grab at his forearm and he starts to do whatEddie showed him before, which was to bend down and try to swing Eddie’s bodyover his own, or at least twist his arm. But Eddie chickens out of it andcowardly kicks Richie’s legs from behind when he starts crouching, causingRichie to fall forward on his face and bring Eddie along with him. He ends upsliding over Richie’s back, slamming his own face onto the ground a secondlater.

Under him,Richie groans in pain and Eddie stumbles to crawl away from him. He gets to hisknees in front of Richie and watches him rubbing at his nose. “Why didn’t youlet go of my arm, you idiot?” Eddie snapped.

“Cause that’snot what you’re supposed to do when you’re being fucking attacked!” His voiceis nasally. “You didn’t mention the kick in the legs when you taught me,before.”

“Must have missedthat part.” He says nonchalantly. A pained grin appears on Richie’s face, Eddiefeels alarmed. “What?”

“Nothing.” Richieshrugs and gets up, holding a hand out for Eddie. Slightly suspicious, Eddie holdson to Richie’s wrist to get up as well, but Richie tugs him up to his feet and pullsuntil their chests are touching. He leans closer to Eddie’s ear.

“’Fraid you can’tbeat me if I start talking?” Eddie doesn’t try to move away, he’s in shock,pointedly ignoring meeting Richie’s eyes. Instead, he stares down at hisjawline. “I can think of a couple ways you can shut me up.”

Eddie thinksabout asking if any of those ways involves a good kick to the head, instead,his mouth hangs open like a fish and he can only feel grateful that Richie can’ttake a good look at his face in this position. Of course, Richie ruins thoseplans when he pulls back a little, just enough so that they can look at eachother. He is still grabbing Eddie’s wrist strongly, and there’s an unreadable expressionon his face.

“You’resupposed to attack me, remember?” He says under his breath. Neither of them seemsto care where they are.

With an embarrassedsnarl, Eddie snaps out of it. He throws the technique out of the way anddecides to kneel Richie in the balls. But Richie moves just as quickly as Eddie’sknee lifts up, his free hand coming between their bodies to grab under Eddie’s thighand snapping it over to the side, leaving Eddie with only one feet on the floor,and, sadly true, his legs forced open.

Eddie is fumingwith embarrassment, he sees red everywhere and if he doesn’t hit something inthe next seconds, he’s going to throw Richie out of the window instead. And totop it all, Richie starts cracking up right there, in front of him. Tiny,mocking chuckles unsuccessfully covered by his lips squeezed shut.

Eddie doesn’tthink, just lifts up his free arm and aims for Richie’s stupid mouth, but oncemore and to his great displeasure, Richie’s eyes grow big and he lets go of Eddie’sleg, hand coming up quickly and gripping Eddie’s other wrist back.

Finally withboth feet on the ground, Eddie steps back and fights against Richie’s hard gripon his wrists.

“Holy shit.”Richie says, slightly excited eyes looking into Eddie’s red, red face. “You’reso bothered by my touch, baby.” Richie doesn’t seem to know when to stop. Bythis point, Eddie is mumbling hateful insults under his breath, along with somepreoccupying threats aimed at Richie’s crotch’s well-being. “Or was it my words,sweetheart?” Richie grins, using all his strength to lead Eddie’s arms behindthe his back.

For a moment,Eddie tries to calm himself and stops squirming against Richie’s hold, lets himpull his arms behind his back until Richie is holding both his wrists with onlyone hand. The other hand comes up, traces a mismatched pattern over Eddie’scovered arm. They space between their bodies is closed again.

Taking a bigbreath and letting Richie believe he’s got him cornered, Eddie watches his dumb,victorious smile.

Don’t do it, Eddie. Be professional. He’s just a jerk,it’s not worth it.

He doesn’t evenknow what he’s restraining himself from doing. Either throwing Richie’s body onto the floor or kissing him. He decides which is it pretty quickly.

Richie’s handsare bigger, that’s why he wraps one around both of Eddie’s wrists so easily,although he’s not doing the best job at using strength. The other finishes itstrail and stops at the back of Eddies neck, just resting there.

Then, Richieopens his imbecile mouth. “I could punch you right now, you know, baby?”

If time was slower,Eddie would have taken a second to roll his eyes and tell him. Great, you’ve ruined it. Instead, all hedoes is to, quite strongly, tear his right wrist out of Richie’s hold andfinally doing what he was prevented from before. His fist collides with Richie’scheek.

Richie’s handscome up to his cheek immediately as he stumbles back a few steps. Eddie staresat him, hand throbbing slightly and feeling guilty almost instantly. The shockon Richie’s face is quite funny, but not at the moment.

“You punchedme.” Richie mumbles while is hands cover his red cheek.

Fuck.

Through quavering,quick breaths, Eddie says. “You were embarrassing me in front of everyone.”Richie just keeps gaping at him in shock. His gloved hands fall at his sides.Eddie flinches at the sight of his flush red skin. That’s going to bruisebadly. “Shit, I’m sorry. Are you okay?” He steps closer to Richie, but feels loston what to do, so he just stands there with the worry dripping from his voice.

“Holy shit.” Richie’s eyes him dreamily.Eddie’s face contorts into confusion. “You punched me…”

“Okay… did- didI damage your brain, somehow?”

“I don’t thinkI’ve ever felt this attracted to anyone before…” Richie smiles cheekily atEddie but hisses instantly when he feels it pulling on his bruising cheekbone. “Fuck,you didn’t spare me at all.” He passes his trembling gloved fingers over hisface.

Eddie gives alook around the rest of the class, no one is paying them much attention, noteven Mike. He turns back to Richie, not thinking too much before speaking. “If youpromise to cut it out with the crude flirting, I’ll go with you to grab someice on the infirmary section.”

Richie perks upat that. “Will you kiss it better?” Eddie groans and turns to walk away. “Okay,okay, I’m sorry.” He stumbles to keep up with Eddie.

“Wait for me inthe locker room.”

Richie eyes himsuspiciously. “You can’t make it easy for me to hit on you, Eds.”

Eddie stops walkingand looks embarrassed at him. “I’m just… going to give Mike an excuse… I’ll meetyou in a second, okay?”

Richie smilesagain despite the stinging in his cheek. He smiles a lot in general.

Eddie watcheshim striding towards the cart to put his gloves away, and then quickly leavingthe room.

When Eddie approachesMike he puts on a fake annoyed frown at the sight of his friend and trainersmirking at him knowingly.

“No, no problemat all. Off you go, Eddie.” He crosses his arms and laughs when Eddie flips himoff discreetly. He watches Eddie’s back as he stomps away. “I’ll make sure to mixbeginners and advanced more times!”

Eddie gives himthe bird over his head this time and heads off to the locker room, not giving adamn if he’s taking the gloves with him. Some things matter more, like an attractiveidiot in pain to which he has special treatment to give.

Perma tag list: @constantreaderfool @mrs-vh

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grownups-are-the-real-monsters · 6 years ago

Text

Heartache Tonight - The Kids Are Alright

Summary: “Somebody's gonna hurt someone before the night is through...”

Another one shot in the ‘Kids Are Alright’ Series

Words: 2,144

{Derry, Maine. June 28th, 1976. 12:47 P.M. Beverly’s room}

“Just squint your eyes and focus between your fingers…”

Beverly did as she was instructed, she focused on the white wall of space between her fingers on her outstretched hand. The world became fuzzy and blurred but outlining her hand was a thin line of color. She blinked, eyes back to normal as she hunched her shoulders to laugh. Her red ponytail falling loosely onto her shoulder. “Purple. My aura is purple.” She grinned.

Stan grinned at her from his seat on her bean bag chair. Richie held out his own hand and shrugged. “Mine’s still red.” He frowned with a look of suspicion. However Beverly grinned, reaching out to shake his thigh.

“What does purple mean?” She asked, eager to hear the answer. Richie shrugged, pushing up his glasses.

“Dunno.” He smiled and Beverly scoffed.

“You mean to tell me that I did that for nothing?” She rolled her eyes and Stan crossed his legs to bring them up on the bean bag chair. The blob of green melded to his body shape and allowed perfect comfort. He wiggled a little in the new spot and tilted his head.

There was an unspoken sort of tension in the room they were all separately aware of. Beverly frowned deeply and played with a loose thread on her jeans. “You wanna know about the date I had the other day, huh?” her voice, accusatory, carried loudly throughout the room. “I assume Richie blabbed to you, Stan?”

The man in question shrunk back and picked at the rubber of his shoes. “Oh I dunno. I knew something was up without him having to tell me, I’m intuitive like that, y’know? I like to think I’m psychic too-”

“Shut-up, Stanley.” Beverly laughed lightly to let him know not to take offense. But she had to stop his rambling before it went on forever like they all knew it would. “I wanna let you know right off the bat that it sucked. I sucked. And I would not like to discuss it further, ok? I’m gonna go make some popcorn and we’re gonna move on from there.”

Beverly, uncharacteristically, shut them down completely and rushed out of her own room. When the door lightly tapped the doorway behind her, Richie and Stan shared the same guilty look. They let themselves sit in silence until they could her the girl moving around downstairs. Instead of breaking it with words, Richie came over and sat near Stan’s feet and tapped lightly on his leg like a child.

“Hmm?” Stan raised his brow though he knew this little routine. He gave the guy a kind smile and shrugged. “I’m sure she isn’t all that mad about you telling me, Rich. Don’t let that bother you.”

He advised his friend knowing full well Richie could not handle his friends being mad at him very well. Terribly, actually. He sure did hope this wouldn’t be one of the worst. He scooted off the bean bag and sat in front of his best friend with a smile. “Want me to read your palm?”

“Yes please!” Richie happily held out his hand with a giddy look on his face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Is everyone having s-s-sex but me?” Bill asked abruptly, cutting the silence that had been going on for the past twenty minutes. He laid in the back of the Vista Cruiser that was parked in front of his house while Eddie shuffled through the radio for a good station.

The question sent Eddie into fits of laughter for what seemed like five whole minutes. Bill rolled his eyes and sat up to face the back of his head. “Why are you laughing?”

Eddie wiped at his eyes and turned back to face him, elbow resting on the next seat. “Partly because of how dumb that question is and partly because it’s funnier when you stutter it.”

Bill lightly chuckled and punched the kid in the arm, who recoiled and rubbed the hurt area. “I’m serious, Eddie.”

The other boy sighed and decided to take his best friend seriously. “First of all, really think about that question, huh?”

Bill looked at him blankly in thought before shrugging, deciding it to be a valid question for some reason.

“Sure, Stan’s got a girlfriend but there’s no way that’s happened for them yet.” Eddie began his long answer that he hadn’t been prepared to have to explain. “Mike and Beverly barely talk to anyone besides us and last I checked neither of them have had sex with any of us.” He paused at his own little joke and chuckled. Bill did not seem even lightly amused with that comment.

"And do you remember who Ben and I are? We haven’t gotten anywhere with anyone which sucks but we’re pretty awkward Bill.” He laughed.

“What about Richie?” Bill asked. Eddie frowned.

“What about him?” He sneered and Bill put a pin in that to make sure to bring it up the attitude he’d answered with again. “He’s not had sex yet or he’d be bragging up and down the street. Don’t you know him?”

Bill realized how silly he’d been to ask but he was still annoyed.

“S’not that big of a deal anyway.” Eddie spoke as he turned back and pulled his aspirator from the glove-box for safe keeping. “Sex is just sex. It’ll happen when it happens.” He put the car in drive and moved to pull out of the driveway.

“Spoken like a true v-v-virgin, Eddie.” Bill joked and Eddie even had to laugh at that. Truthfully, none of them cared all that much about ‘doing it’ except maybe Richie. But even that was just some jokes here and there. But insecurity had risen in Bill ever since Disco night when Beverly rejected him. He had briefly wondered if he’d ruined their friendship. He’d also wondered if he just...’didn’t have any game’ in him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{Mike, Bill, Stan, Eddie & Richie sat in Stan’s basement. The room is lacking smoke.}

“I hate to be a party pooper, though it is what I’m best at, but the smoke really is bad for my asthma.” Eddie paced behind the couch in Stan’s basement with a slight grin on his face.

“Hey, I could fight you on that, I think I’m a champion at that too.” Stan cocked his head, resting it on the back of his couch as Eddie stood above him. He wagged his finger like a much older gentleman and Eddie giggled.

“I’d be careful if I were you. Eddie’s real scrappy. Once, we were play f-f-f-fighting over the remote and he nearly kicked me in the eye.” Bill laughed and Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Please. Don’t exaggerate.”

Richie perked up and smirked. “Eddie, one time you punched me so hard I fell on the floor and had a bruise for like....ever.” Richie did not look too mad about it. He actually found it rather funny and possibly adorable.

“It’s not like it came from nowhere. You were sitting on me.”

Richie blushed slightly at the memory. Boy, had he regretted that move many times when they play-fought. But he always went for it without even thinking about it. He was actually glad Eddie had knocked him off that day.

Mike hummed and looked through Stan’s record collection for some background tunes. “Violence does seem to be the way with you guys.” He pretended to scold them, although he truly didn’t quite enjoy violence himself.

Stan allowed Eddie to playfully flick at his forehead and grinned. They were all silent for a few minutes before Mike finally decided on a record. More specifically, ‘Led Zeppelin IV’.

Everyone rolled their shoulders back with the same pleasure as the first song kicked in. A natural reaction, of course.

They were quiet again, absorbing that special sound.

“You know what would make this better?” Richie asked.

“Hmmm?” Mike replied.

“Weed.”

Mike slapped his shoulder while Eddie playfully gave him the finger. Richie smirked at him. Things had been awkward for them ever since Disco night. Neither of them willing to bring up what happened ever since. Suddenly Richie found himself wishing Ben were there because at least he’d understand his sudden mood drop.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{Derry, Maine. 4:50 P.M.}

Beverly sat on the curb in front of the local pharmacy, smoking a cigarette and hoping her dull headache would not get any worse. The day was dragging on and she felt a little guilty for blowing Stan and Richie off earlier but she also wished she’d done it sooner.

“Loitering is a crime, young lady.” A distant voice made her jump but as she turned her head, it was just Ben putting on her on as he nervously approached.

“Sorry I thought that’d be funny but ummm- I don’t know why I did that, sorry.” Ben tried to mumble through an apology and she had to reluctantly smile at that.

“It was funny, Ben.” She rolled her lips together and gestured for him to sit next to her. “Listen, I’m glad you’re here actually.”

The comment itself made Ben want to smile but her tone and expression made him want to crumble right there in front of the store. She bent one of her knees and sat in a way to face him entirely. The golden sun dusted upon her freckled shoulders and warmed her hair. He could tell she was about to speak but he beat her to it.

“You know about my feelings, huh?” He guessed because he was just too curious and worried to wait. The girl blinked, lashes kissing her face, and licked her lips in thought.

“I know.” She nodded and Ben felt like he could throw-up in the sewer grate just to their side. They looked at each other for a few painful seconds.

“So if I was to ask you-...” Ben couldn’t even finish. I’d be pitiful if he even tried so he let it hang in the air. By the way Beverly put her hand to her lips and turned to look away, he knew it was bad. “Yeah...that’s-that’s fine.” Ben scratched the back of his head and tried to shrug it off.

“Look Ben, I’m not saying no forever.” She turned back with renewed energy that he wondered how she’d managed to pull. “But for now...”

“It’d be a no?” Ben asked. She nodded and he found himself wondering if it had anything to do with Bill. He would have asked but he was not that insensitive. It wasn’t any of his business.

“Please... don’t hate me.” Beverly reached out to pat his knee with genuine fear before pulling away like she was burned.

“Hate you?” Ben found the room to laugh. Beverly raised a frightened brow. “Never, Bev. Never in my life could I hate you. You’re one of my best friends.” He nodded and she felt fine again. Happy, even.

They surrendered the conversation and picked up a new one. Though, both felt a little restrained. How long would that last...?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{Stan’s Basement. 5:00 P.M.}

Mike, Bill, Richie, Eddie and Stan had gotten side-tracked by a Gilligan’s Island marathon on TV like almost every-time they hung out. As another plan to get off the island failed, Richie took a small chance and put his arm around Eddie but rested it on the back of the couch casually.

Mike and Bill didn’t notice but Stan put all his attention on the two of them as if they were just as entertaining. He could tell Eddie had obviously noticed by the way he blinked and swallowed. He seemed to allow it before abruptly announcing he wanted a pop and stood to leave.

Poor Richie looked as if he was punched in the gut as he lowered his hand back into his lap. Stan bit into his cheek and made to follow his short friend.

He met him at the shockingly white fridge with a look of sympathy. He leaned his chin on the open fridge door and sighed. “Judging by the way you sprang out of there, you two haven’t talked about anything, huh?”

Eddie jumped. Stan always loved his habit of entering a room mysteriously. It was truly a gift....a really fun gift too. Eddie slammed the fridge and shrugged.

“We have not said a word about anything.” He paused and leaned back on the kitchen counter. “I just...I don’t want things to be weird.”

Stan thought about the way Richie had looked like a kicked puppy earlier and shuddered. “I don’t know if you can avoid that, Eddie.”

“I can try.” Eddie gave him a sarcastic and upset grin before completely brushing him off to head back for the basement.

Stan shook his head. Life was going to get real complicated real fast.

#the kids are alright #the losers club #it's been a hot minute #stephen king #Stephen kings IT #IT by stephen king #reddie #benverly #source: that 70s show #that 70s show #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #stan uris #ben hanscom #beverly marsh #mike hanlon #bill denbrough #my fanfiction

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skeletonscribbles · 7 years ago

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what did it cost?

this took...longer than expected, but finally! she produces some content!

this is partially self-indulgent and partially for the @fyeahreddie “heat” prompt. I took some artistic liberties and used “heat” as “heat of the moment”. if you’re feeling like that phrase pops up Too Much in this, that’s why.

anyways. here you go, Marvel friends. enjoy my non-crossover crossover :) (and if you want it on Ao3, it’s here.)

title: what did it cost? rating: G af word count: 2500 warnings: MAJOR Avengers: Infinity War spoilers summary: “You would punch Thanos for me?” “I would,” Richie confirmed, finally looking up. His eyes were a little watery, which made Eddie smile. “At the expense of the universe, I would punch Thanos every time. For you.”

“I still don’t fucking understand this game.”

Bill sat back in his chair in a huff, crossing his arms and looking thoroughly sour. They were three hours into a knockoff game of Dungeons and Dragons that they were using as a joke predictor for Avengers: Infinity War , and Bill’s characters were dropping like flies.

“You’re just mad because you lost Loki in the first five minutes,” Ben pointed out, nudging Bill’s knee under the table fondly. “We all told you that trying to covertly stab Thanos was stupid.”

“He was the only character I actually wanted to play,” Bill grumbled, “and like half of my other ones are immediate toast. There’s really only like a 20% chance when push comes to shove that I actually get to keep Vision.”

“I get it, bud. I’m still kinda mad we sent Valkyrie and Korg off early, too.” Bev patted Bill’s shoulder sympathetically. “I really wanted to play her.”

“I really wanted to play Korg,” Richie cut in, eyeing Bill narrowly, “but SOMEone--”

“Enough.” Mike, their long-suffering DM, was somehow still patient even through the chaos and absurdity of the last few hours. “It is how it is. It’s not like this is the way things are actually going to go down in the movie.”

“I fucking hope not,” Bill said, eyes flashing dangerously. “This is a shitshow.”

“Thanos still has two stones to get,” Mike reminded them, “so things could turn around if you keep him away from them.”

Richie stared blankly back at him. “Isn’t the Time Stone at Thanos’ base right now? With Thanos? Things are looking bleak, my guy.”

“The stone is still in my posession.” Ben was looking thoughtful. “Mike, can I roll for clairvoyance, but instead of having a sensor, can I like...see the future? You know, because I have the Time Stone?”

Mike grinned excitedly. “I kinda hoped you would ask. Yeah, sure, Benny boy, rev it up.”

Ben carefully picked up a die, rolled it, and then let it come down on the table. It was a nat-16, and Mike peered thoughtfully down at it.

“Okay, not perfect, but...you can look at my whole manual except the last five pages, and you can’t tell anyone else what any of it says. Cool?”

“I’ll take it,” Ben said, making grabby hands for Mike’s painstakingly put together campaign notes. Beside him, Bill rolled his eyes.

“Can we speed this up so we can get back to the Earth plotline? I’ve got a Cap I’ve barely gotten to use yet.”

“You can hang out with me for a while if you want,” Stan called from the other group. Despite having a healthy interest in both Dungeons and Dragons and Marvel, once they’d started divvying up the characters and Richie had grabbed Starlord, he’d opted out, claiming he was “too old for this”.

“No, I wanna see if they screw this up,” Bill decided, leaning his elbows on the table.

“Same,” echoed Bev. “Who’s there again? It’s you, Ben as Doctor Strange, Rich as Starlord, Drax, and Tony, and Eddie as Spidey, Mantis, and Nebula, yeah?”

“Yes,” Mike confirmed, “so, basically, Richie and Eddie versus Thanos, with a guest appearance by Ben. Ben, how’s that reading coming?”

“Getting there,” Ben replied distractedly, flipping back and forth between two pages with a slight frown.

“Okay. Richie, Eddie, you ready to move forward? Got a plan?”

“Ready,” Eddie said firmly, looking over at Richie with a shy smile. Eddie had been relatively quiet all day, partially because he hadn’t gotten to play Richie’s love interest because Bev had snatched up Gamora almost immediately (and then Bev had fallen into a Thanos trap and gotten her killed, which he was pretty salty about) and partially because he loved to listen to Richie through games like these. He was such a natural storyteller. They were all dying for him to actually run a campaign instead of just dicking around with characters, but he claimed that he was too lazy to put in the work of putting one together. Only Eddie and Stan knew better; knew that he was too afraid of disappointing them to be able to write anything at all, knew that it was often a chore for Richie to get out of bed, much less write a whole campaign.

Someday, maybe.

“Yeah, Spaghetti Man, we got this. Let’s kick this purple asshole in the nuts.” Richie leaned back in his chair, an easy smile on his face. “Tony Stark surprise attacks from above.”

“Roll for stealth. How much damage you can do will depend on how this roll turns out.” Mike moved towards Ben so they could share his notes while Ben finished reading, and the fight proceeded. Richie and Eddie had put together a really impressive plan, which culminated in Eddie’s Mantis putting Thanos to sleep so that the rest of them could pull the Infinity Gauntlet off of Thanos’ arm. It should have worked easily and seamlessly, but then Eddie’s mouth got ahead of his mind in his excitement.

“Mike. New thing. Nebula taunts Thanos about Gamora.”

Mike tutted, shaking his head. “Nebula hasn’t been told any details about what’s happened to Gamora.”

“Nebula can infer,” Eddie insisted. “And she does, to make Thanos suffer more.”

“Roll,” Mike said, gesturing broadly with his hand. Eddie quickly grabbed the dice and rolled a nat-10. “Okay, so it’s not a taunt, per-se, but Nebula says out loud that Thanos has killed Gamora. Reminder that this is the first time any of the rest of the Guardians have heard about this. Mantis, Drax, Starlord, do you do anything?”

“Mantis does not,” Eddie said confidently. “She’s a little busy.”

Richie didn’t answer right away. He was staring at Eddie with an expression that was bordering on anguish.

“Drax? Starlord? Anything in the heat of the moment?” Mike waved his arms in front of Richie’s face. “Earth to Rich?”

“Heat of the moment…” Richie muttered, eyes never leaving Eddie’s face. “Yes. Starlord punches Thanos in the face.”

The entire group sat still for a moment, too stunned to move, and then erupted into chaos.

“He does WHAT now?!?”

“Oh, I’m so glad I’m not a part of this particular plotline, they’re fuckin’ done now…”

“Richie, no!” Eddie’s eyes were frantic. “You can’t! You’ll undo everything!”

Ben stood up and looked around, and the rest of the table fell silent, waiting for him to dispense his newly-acquired wisdom. They were not expecting anything like the words that came out of his mouth.

“Let him do it.”

“We’ll die!” Eddie protested loudly. “Richie--”

“Let him,” Ben insisted, meeting Eddie’s gaze with a solid, zen look of his own, and Eddie knew he was defeated.

“Will you roll, Richie?” Mike asked gently, trying to get Richie’s attention. Richie was STILL staring at Eddie. It was unclear whether or not he’d been cognizant of any of the commotion that had ensued around his decision. “You gonna go through with this heat of the moment kamikaze?”

Slowly and deliberately, Richie nodded. “I’ll roll for damage.”

Mike passed him the die, and he blew on it quickly for luck, shook it once, and then let go.

The roll was a five. Eddie dug his fingers into his thighs to keep himself from trying to flip the table.

“My shit decision’s starting to look pretty good right now,” Bill murmured as Mike sighed and took his notes back from Ben.

“You land the punch, but it doesn’t do anything but snap him out of Mantis’ sleep. He gets the gauntlet back and easily begins to defeat your team. He goes after Tony Stark specifically because he sees him as the biggest threat.” Mike pulled his chair back a little bit and took a deep breath. “Things aren’t looking good, and I think we should break there. Take ten minutes.”

“Cool,” agreed Bill and Bev in unison. Bev stood and began walking towards the back door, presumably to go out and smoke, and Bill headed for the study, where Stan was waiting to hear about what had just happened. Mike collected his notes and walked towards the front door, maybe to review, maybe to get some fresh are, or maybe just to scream out into the street in frustration about how ridiculous his friends were. None of them knew for sure.

“We can still win, right Ben?” Eddie was still too jarred by Richie’s rash decision to feel like he was able to speak to him, so he turned desperately to Ben. “You saw outcomes where we could all live, right?”

“I dunno about all ,” Ben answered carefully, backing towards the back door, “but there’s hope.”

“Ben--” Eddie tried again, but Ben had sped up his retreat.

“There’s hope!” he called again, and then Eddie heard the back door slam.

Slowly, he turned back towards Richie, who was studying his hands with an uncharacteristic amount of focus.

“Care to explain?” Eddie asked quietly, drawing out each syllable in an attempt to convey his dissatisfaction.

Richie didn’t meet his eyes. “No.”

“No?” Eddie nudged his leg to try and get him to look up. “Just an impulse decision, then? I mean, dude, it was just Gamora--”

“I was thinking about you,” Richie muttered, nudging Eddie’s leg back but still not making eye contact. “The whole thing just...made me think about you.”

Eddie had no idea what to make of that.

“I don’t get the connection,” he finally said, tired of trying to puzzle things out by himself.

“Because you’re like, my Gamora,” Richie continued reluctantly, pulling at the beginnings of a tear in the left knee of his jeans. “Not like. Green. But. You’re both strong, bad at dancing, and laugh at my jokes even when it pains you to.”

“Gamora laughs at your jokes?” Eddie asked teasingly, trying to ignore the fact that his insides were blooming in a way that made him feel like a flower moving towards sunlight.

“Starlord’s jokes. You know.” Richie stomped lightly on Eddie’s foot in mock-exasperation. “Anyway, I was thinking about what I’d do in the heat of the moment if I found out you were dead. You know, a little light thinking.”

Eddie gave up on stopping the blooming feeling. He was a whole-ass flower, and Richie was the sun. “You would punch Thanos for me?”

“I would,” Richie confirmed, finally looking up. His eyes were a little watery, which made Eddie smile. “At the expense of the universe, I would punch Thanos every time. For you.”

“You can’t go around making stupid decisions for me,” Eddie chided, but it was obvious he didn’t mean it; his hands and body were moving forward almost robotically to wind around Richie. “Especially with the universe at stake.”

Richie watched Eddie curiously, hands moving reflexively down to grab him for support when he climbed on to Richie’s lap. “You really don’t know me at all, huh?”

“I know you,” Eddie insisted, looking down at Richie’s slight frown and mirroring it.

“I’m always gonna be the ‘punch Thanos’ guy, Eddie,” Richie said simply. “Stupid decisions in the heat of the moment are my thing, especially when there’s feelings involved.”

“Feelings?” Eddie asked, not sure whether or not he was teasing. It came out a little strangled due to his indecision, and he pulled back a little bit, embarrassed.

Richie took a moment, composed himself, and then looked back up, sliding his hand along Eddie’s jaw and gently moving his face so that they were making eye contact.

“I love you,” Richie said, so quietly Eddie wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it at first. “Of course I would punch Thanos for you. I love you.”

Eddie was no longer a flower; he was a cherry tree in bloom, and flowers were opening up through his face, his chest, his arms.

I love you.

“Was this...is this...a stupid decision in the heat of the moment kind of thing?” Eddie asked after a few silent, explosive seconds.

“I dunno if this qualifies as heat of the moment,” Richie replied carefully, “and it really wasn’t intended to be stupid. That doesn’t mean that it’s not, but.”

“It’s not,” Eddie confirmed, leaning down and brushing his lips against Richie’s. “It’s not.”

Richie reflexively kissed back, closing his eyes and sinking back in his chair. Both of them knew that there was an implicit promise in Eddie’s actions. It would take him a while to respond the way he wanted to - years of self-hatred and his mother’s conditioning meant that he was still in the beginning stages of learning not to bite back soft, affectionate words - but in not running away, in staying and holding on to Richie the way that he was, there was an understanding.

“Seems to me you shouldn’t be rewarding the man who killed the universe.” They broke apart upon hearing Bill’s voice, and turned to see him watching them from the kitchen with a strange, contorted look on his face. Beside him, Stan was picking at a fingernail, obviously uncomfortable.

“Just making the most of the time we have left,” Eddie responded neatly, sliding off of Richie’s lap and back into his own seat. “Are we ready to start again?”

“We’re picking up in Wakanda.” Mike had reentered quietly enough that none of them had noticed he’d come back, and his emergence sent a ripple of surprise through the room. “We need a break from space. Bill, are you ready?”

“To fucking die?” Bill grinned. “Sure, why not. Let’s go out with some style, though, yeah? Bev, you ready to have Shuuri yank this Infinity Stone out of Vision’s head?”

“One minute!” Bev called from the back porch.

“See?” Richie said, gesturing broadly, “there’s still stuff to be done. Game’s not over. Not a decision with terrible repercussions at the end of the day.”

“No, it was,” Bill disagreed, moving back to his seat, “no matter what you’re trying to tell yourself.”

Eddie slid his hand into Richie’s under the table, and held his gaze as Bev and Ben finally reappeared, looking suspiciously windblown.

“It wasn’t,” Eddie whispered to him. “It wasn’t.”

“I know,” Richie whispered back. “Bill doesn’t fucking understand this game.”

“Or Dungeons and Dragons, for that matter,” Eddie said, grinning, and they both fell into peals of laughter, much to the confusion of the rest of the table.

If Eddie had to give up the universe for that specific heat of the moment decision again, he knew in that instant that he would do it - as many times as he had to, or maybe even as many times as he could.

A single I love you from Richie Tozier was maybe, probably, definitely more powerful than any Infinity Stone.

#reddie #reddie fanfic #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #the others are there too but i'm too lazy to tag #avengers: infinity war #crossover #ish #richie's an impulsive idiot and so is peter quill it's canon #iw spoilers #loser's club #stephen king's it

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get-fcking-reddie · 7 years ago

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Hey i love love LOVE ur writing style and i found this cool soulmate au that i wanna see for reddie ? basically the first part of u that ur soulmate touches is completely black until they touch you and then it gets like, colorful like a bruise i guess? idk the prompt wasn’t super clear abt that, and since richie and eddie are like ,, hanging off of each other all the time i can totally seeing them having these huge inkstain lookin’ marks .

I struggled with this so much! I changed the premise a little bit, but I hope you still like it. So, the first time your soulmate touches you it leaves a soulmark. This soulmark is usually black unless your soulmate touches you. Then it lights up in a specific colour and pattern. (I’ve decided that touching through clothing counts, so don’t sue me)

Ben was the first one of Eddie’s friends to get a soulmark. It happened when he passed a note to Beverly Marsh in their English Lit class. Their fingertips touched and turned a warm auburn colour marbled with gold.

Eddie always asked them two make their soulmarks glow whenever he saw Beverly and Ben together. He could watch the dark marks shift to that warm red colour forever and he would never get bored of it.

Mike was the second one to get a soulmark. A boy named Stanley Uris crashed into Mike after Henry Bowers tripped him. Now Mike had two hand prints on his upper arms and a spot on his forhead where Stan knocked into him. The soulmarks turned light blue with silver speckles whenever they touched.

Stan let his hair grow out a little to hide the spot on his forehead, but neither he nor Mike seemed to care too much. They were too happy to have found each other.

Eddie, however, was terrified. The incident made him realize how easy it was to get stuck with a bad soulmark forever. What if he was knocked into his soulmate as well and ended up with a soulmark that covered him from head to toe?

From that moment on, Eddie avoided strangers like the plague. He made sure that no one ever touched him if he hadn’t met them before. He had ended up late for class several times, because he refused to cross the crowded hallway.

So, when Mike proposed that their group (Bill, Ben, Eddie and Mike) should hang out with Stan’s group (Stan, Bev and Richie), Eddie was like nope, nope, nope! He had seen Richie with his friends and he knew he was super touchy. But, Mike convinced him to come anyway, because what were the odds that Richie was Eddie’s soulmate anyway?

They all went to see a horror movie together at the Aladdin, and of course Eddie is stuck sitting next to Richie. Stanlon argues that they need to sit together, because they both talk through movies and now they can only bother each other.

Eddie is offended, because he does not talk through movies! But, yes he does. Eddie is basically that mom that keeps asking: “who is this? where did that guy come from? what’s going on?”

So, Eddie is sulking next to Richie and Richie thinks wow, this guy really hates me. I need to make him laugh so he’ll like me!

Richie starts poking fun at the horror movie;s clichéd characters:

“Don’t worry, girl, you’re the virgin. You’re going to make it well into the last act.”

“She’s taking her top off in a horror movie? Well, I hope she likes the taste of knife.”

“You can tell that swimsuit model is supposed to be a nerd, because they put glasses on her.”

Eddie reaches over to steal some popcorn from Richie before saying

“I don’t know, I think glasses are pretty handsome.”

He doesn’t really know why he said that, but Richie is grinning and it’s making his stomach flutter.

They continue to bash the movie as it goes along, earning some dirty looks from Stan in particular.

Eddie feels that fluttering in his stomach whenever he manages to come up with a good joke and hears Richie’s laugh. He almost wishes the movie was longer even though it was terrible.

After the movie, they all spent some time in front of the Aladdin discussing the plot and the terrible acting.

Richie puts his arm around Eddie’s shoulder and Eddie just leans into him without thinking about it.

“Eh-eddie your arm!”

Eddie looks at the place on his arm where Richie is resting his hand and he notices a faint glow. He pushes Richie off him and immediately the spot turns black. Eddie follows the trace of the soulmark and his stomach drops.

Eddie’s soulmark starts on his right hand and goes all the way up to his shoulder. Then it continues from one shoulder to the next, marking the back of his neck, and ends in Richie’s hand print on his left upper arm.

“You!” Eddie just screams and he starts pushing Richie. “Now. I’m. Stuck, With. This. Big. Fucking. Soulmark.”

Richie tries to take hold of Eddie’s wrists so he stops pushing him. Eddie is about to get even angrier when Richie stops him, but then he notices the way their soulmark glows for the first time. It starts out as a pink glitter and ends in blue, but along the way it is all shades of purple. It’s actually really beautiful.

“I’m sorry I gave you such a big mark.”

“I’m sorry I pushed you…. and yelled.”

The other losers realize Eddie is no longer planning on killing Richie, and they probably need some time alone to figure out the whole soulmate thing.

Richie and Eddie end up going to a late night showing of another movie. They end up bashing the film again and making jokes, but at some point Richie holds Eddie’s hand. Eddie is just as mesmerized by how well his hand fits into Richie’s as he is by the way their soulmark glows.

They go on many more dates to the Aladdin, and they always sit in the back so people aren’t bothered by how bright their soulmark is.

Eddie couldn’t have wished for a better soulmark or a better soulmate

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #it #itmovie #it2017 #soulmates #mine

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thecreativeangel · 7 years ago

Text

The Town of Forgetting: I

Slow Burn!Richie Tozier x Fem!Reader

*Please don’t plagiarize my work, thank you :3*

Summary: Derry was supposed to be an escape from your mother’s bad decisions and her hatred towards you for being ‘special’. But upon your arrival there you discover the eerily quiet town has a sinister reputation and a history that repeats itself.

Warnings: Cursing, description of illness.

Words: 1,527

Next Chapter

“Are you sure they’ll like me?” You ask Beverly, pressing the phone closer to your ear. An old, fading, torn at the edges polaroid picture was held in your hand, the photo she had given you as a final present before you left Portland for good. Fuck your mom and her “unstable” lifestyle. She probably didn’t want you to see the tequila hidden under the bed.

“They will, I promise.” Her distorted voice comes through the ancient home phone, crackling with electricity.

“But you said-”

“They won’t know your last name,” Beverly assures. “And if they find out, they probably forgot anyway.”

You chewed on your lip, looking at the photo held between your thumb and index finger. “Bev, I specifically remember you saying that Henry punched every one of them, at least once. That’s insane.”

You could almost feel Beverly shrug through the phone. “It’s fine. They’re awesome. Sort of complete losers, but awesome.”

You still weren’t convinced. For a good reason, one might say. “I don’t know Bev…”

“Jesus (Name), stop being such a wimp.”

“Damn, Bev,” You say sarcastically, rolling your eyes as far as they could go. “Thanks for the support. I. Feel. So. Loved.”

“Yeah, yeah… Now get in the car, I can literally hear your mom yelling at you from school.”

Was it your imagination, or did you just hear her sniffle? Your own eyes are glazed over, your bottom lip trembling, slurring your speech.

“I’m fucking sorry I couldn’t see you off.” Beverly says after clearing her throat. “My dearest Auntie couldn’t let her own niece say bye to her friend-your Aunt Lia is so much cooler. Nevermind that, how’s your head? No weird visions or predictions of a zombie apocalypse?”

“Don’t apologize,” You say in a fakely stern manner. “You’ve already said sorry at least twenty times. Shut the hell up much? Anyway, my head’s fine. Mom’s aura is happier today, all yellow and stuff. I’m guessing it’s ‘cuz I’m leaving. The feeling’s mutual.”

“I bet you’re happy to see one person in particular.” Beverly teased. “A certain loudmouth with glasses? I swear, I showed you the picture for one second and you’re already making heart eyes at him.”

“Shut up!” You say. “I wasn’t- that’s ridiculous!”

“Really, because I heard he’s very tall now. You could climb him like a-”

“Christ, Beverly!” You exclaim. “You can’t say that! I implied it once. Once! Get off my back!”

Beverly laughed heartily on the other side of the line. “Bye loser.”

“Bye Bevy.”

You pulled the phone away from your ear and ended the call, the empty feeling from before settling in the pit of your stomach like a shard of ice.

Beverly told you to be proud and confident. She said Derry was a weird place, that it sucked the happiness out of you like a black hole. She said it was like a literal black hole on earth, actually; brutal, and dark and unforgiving. You laughed it off, but there was a seriousness behind her joking expression that chilled you to the bone. Upon arrival at Derry via bus, the shard of ice in your stomach grew to the size of a golfball, or so it felt.

The town sign was falling apart. The town itself was almost empty compared to Portland, except for a few older women sitting on a park bench and some high schoolers drinking from a suspicious brown bag near the arcade, skipping class. The sun beat down on the buildings, giving them the same grainy texture of the polaroid photo Beverly gave you. Things seemed okay, until the schoolbell rang.

The bus you rode on just happened to drive by as the local high school let off and you pressed your face against the dirty glass window, fogging it up. Behind the misty glass, you saw the blurry outlines of their auras, the colors becoming one big blob behind the fogged up glass.

Frustrated, you rubbed your sleeve on the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of your new classmates, hoping to see if their auras were friendly or not. But when the condensation rubbed off, your breath caught in your throat. Among the stream of kids flowing from the main doors, there were only a few who were surrounded by the canary yellow of happiness, and the few who were wore a washed out yellow instead. There were sudden, angry flares of red around some, and not even a second later the crowd parted to allow two boys to start their fistfight. The purple mist of loathing was also prominent, swirling over their heads. Pale, barf colored green mixed with red rage.

Hints of midnight blue grief and sky blue sadness were visible if you squinted, but even that wasn’t what made your heart stop. All the auras were faded, ugly, discolored blobs of nothingness. The bus screeched to a halt at your aunt’s house and the driver practically glared you off. You shouldered your stuffed backpack and hopped down the bus stairs, dropping them next to the only lamp post on the street. The doorbell of your Aunt Lia’s house was loud and she answered almost immediately with a hug and squealing.

You glanced briefly behind your shoulder at the high school down the street, kids clumping together in groups. There was a thunder gray cloud hanging over the head of nearly each person.

“Are you alright hon?” Aunt Lia asks. Her beautifully young face bore a smile but her soft brown eyes showed worry.

Your nodded soundlessly, but your mind worked a thousand times faster now. You’d seen blues, greens, reds, purples and hell, even gold for achievement and black for death, but this was different. Never, not once in your life, had you seen an aura that was grey.

The bell was about to ring, you knew it. Your first day at a new school and you’d be late. Absolutely wonderful. You reached behind you to zip your backpack up, all while running at full speed to the school. Not even a thirty seconds later, the loud bell echoed across the school grounds. That’s it. I’m dead. You burst through the front doors and into the empty main hallway, checking the class schedule in your hand. Room 208, Room 210… You counted off in your head, the numbers blurring as you sped by. Aha! Room 212! And before you could think to slow down, you practically sprinted into the classroom, skidding to a halt after sliding through half the room. Everyone looked up. Every. Single. Person. The teacher stopped his introduction, eyeing you up and down with extreme irritation, bordering on rage.

“I, uh-I’m n-new.” You stutter, realizing how greatly you just humiliated yourself. A group of girls near the front snicker. “New s-student.”

“Usually I don’t let anyone in the classroom after the bell,” The says, staring at you from over the rims of his horned glasses. “But since it’s the first day…”

He strides over to his desk and checks a paper. “You’re (Name)?”

“Yup. That’s-that’s me.” You answer awkwardly, trying to ignore the new round of giggles that broke out among the students.

“Your brother was my student, correct?”

For a moment, your brain melts, then goes into overdrive. Of course he’d mention that. In front of the entire class, too. Beverly said they wouldn’t find out! Beverly promised they-

“Y-yes sir.”

The teacher nods curtly and wrinkles his nose in disdain before addressing his students, who still wore smug smirks. “Everyone give a warm welcome,” He says, putting sarcastic emphasis on ‘warm welcome’. “To Miss (Name) Bowers.”

The room froze. Smiles melted off people’s faces, laughter came to an abrupt halt and time flowed like molasses. You took tentative steps to the back of the classroom, passing a sea of shell shocked faces. You passed the group of girls at the front, barely managed to walk by the burly boys in the middle, but near the back…

A couple boys looked at you with utter loathing. For a moment, you thought it was a trick of the mind. Why would they be scared of you? That’s ridiculous! But you glanced down at Beverly’s photo, clipped to your class schedule, and it explained everything. The extremely tall, deathly thin boy to the right looked like a skeletal version of Bill from the photo, his cheekbones sticking out like sharped knives. The boy a row ahead of him looked like Mike but his pupils were pinpoints, watching you like a hawks eyes, his hands clawing at the desk as if eager to grab your neck. You veered away on instinct.

On your left sat one boy with a dark mop of curly hair, slumped in his chair, observing you through half lidded eyes, a lit cigarette in the hand he hid under his desk. He was impossibly pale, the only true color to his face were dark bags under his eyes that looked more like bruises than anything. You were shaken out of your daze when you nearly tripped over the chair’s leg at your desk in the very back row. His stare followed you, so seemingly calm, but there was a burning, quiet rage behind them. Richie Tozier.

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batwake · 7 years ago

Text

Living Room Song - chapter 2/12

No one new ever moves to Derry, Maine.

The worst day of Eddie Kaspbrak’s life is the day that someone does.

read it on ao3

chapter 1

chapter 2: september - timeless

The first day of school comes and goes, and as does the week and the week after. The elusive Richard ‘my friends call me Richie, Mrs. Wakeman’ Tozier has not spoken a single word to Eddie, even though they’re both in Wakeman’s sixth hour psychology, but Eddie quickly decides that Stan was right about the guy being annoying, as he talks to anyone who bothers to look at him. People learned not to spare him the time after the first few days, and though Eddie is one of them, he can’t help but wish that the other boy would seek him out. They sit on opposite sides of the classroom, and Richie is always quick to bolt out the door, so Eddie never gets the chance to talk to him, even if he could work up the courage. His siblings are nice, though, and Eddie talks to them regularly. Neither of them ever bring up each other or their third sibling, so Eddie never asks. The only time he ever sees them together are at lunch, when they sit together in the back corner of the lunchroom.

On September 2nd, two weeks after school started, Sonia sends Eddie in to town to run errands. Since Eddie has gotten older she has become more lenient about her son going to town by himself, although she is wary and double checks that he knows their home phone number and can call if he needs her to come get him.

Eddie can understand the paranoia. It doesn’t bother him anymore.

So he goes into town. Picks up his and his mothers’ prescriptions from the drug store, and ventures into the grocery store. It’s quiet on this Monday afternoon, most people having already finished their shopping for the week. The only people working are the old woman that Eddie sees waiting at the bus stop every Tuesday and Thursday evening and an acne ridden teenager that Eddie vaguely recognizes as the kid from his freshman year world history class.

He beelines for the fruits and vegetables after grabbing a cart, picking four of every produce on the list his mother gave him, each one in their own separate bags. Sonia was always very specific about her grocery shopping, that was something that had not changed over the summer.

The speakers are playing some new radio hit that Eddie has heard a hundred times already, but he still finds himself humming along. He gets so wrapped up in listening to the song he doesn’t even see the cart appear in front of him before he is hitting it.

“Shit-“ Eddie starts, then covers his mouth. “I mean. Sorry.”

Richie Tozier, the man of Eddie’s nightmares, is laughing. His sister is glaring at him.

“Richard can you please pay attention to where you’re pushing this thing?” Eddie’s eyes flick from Richie to Margo. He has never really seen them interact before.

It feels a little like he’s watching two animals at the zoo.

“Margaret can you please explain to this fine gentleman what ‘look before crossing both ways’ means?” Richie shoots back. Margo turns to look at Eddie for the first time, and her face lights up.

“Hey, stranger!” Margo is wearing the same thing she wore to school, a dark blue sweater over high waisted white jeans. Her hair is pulled back in a low ponytail that Eddie thinks makes her look more like her brothers. Her green eyes stare all the way down into Eddie’s soul.

It’s a little unnerving, but Richie’s gaze saves him, because he speaks up next. “Edward, right? From psych?”

Eddie blinks, looking over to the tallest of the three of him. Richie is almost a full foot taller than Eddie, and Margo is even shorter. Still, Eddie feels smaller under Margo’s strong green eyes than he does with Richie’s warm brown ones. “Eddie,” he corrects, “but yes. I sit on the other side of the classroom.”

“Eddie. Eddie-Spaghetti.” Richie nods like he is making a mental note of it and leans his arms on the cart, bending so he is more at his companion’s height. “Are you that guy who was laughing in the lunchroom the first day of school?”

“Richie!” Margo snaps, elbowing her brother. Richie looks at her and mouths what?

“It’s okay. Yeah, that was me.” Eddie shifts uncomfortably on his feet. “That was the mental breakdown everyone was waiting to see.” Eddie assumes that they must’ve heard the whole story from someone else at school, otherwise Margo wouldn’t be so wary of the subject. He likes that Richie doesn’t seem to care about it so much.

Eddie takes the brief moment of awkward silence to study Richie’s attire. He clearly has a weird sense of fashion, or perhaps a lack thereof. Today Richie Tozier wears black jeans that have random patches of fabric sewn into them, bursts of color like yellow with purple spots on his thigh or rainbow stripes on his calf. His t-shirt says Freese’s in cursive text, and shows off his long arms, the wrists covered in bracelets. A few of his long fingers have rings on them, but Eddie has a hard time focusing on them. His broken-to-hell glasses top off the entire look.

Richie notices him staring and shoots Eddie his lopsided smile.

Warmth spreads to Eddie’s cheeks. “So, where’s Mike?” He says, desperate to change the subject from his mental breakdown and get Richie’s eyes anywhere other than Eddie’s hands, which twitch and fidget with the grocery list in his hands.

He earns two very different reactions from the pair in front of him. Margo rolls her eyes and focuses them on somewhere above and to the left of Eddie. Richie snickers and straightens up.

“Our dad has some conference a few towns over and took Mikey with him,” Richie says, his voice heavy with something that Eddie can’t quite place. “Margo is mega jealous.”

“I’m not jealous-“

“-she’s totally jealous-“

“-I’m just a little annoyed that he picked just him to go, that’s all! I mean there’s three of us. You can’t pick just one.”

Richie’s stance changes and Eddie wonders if Margo notices. He stands a little straighter, crosses his arms. The smile on his face looks tight and fake. “We know all about that-“

“Beep beep,” Margo snaps, holding up a hand. “We don’t need to subject Eddie to our family problems.”

Eddie’s a little lost. He doesn’t say that, though, just awkwardly laughs. “Beep beep?”

“People say that to get me to, quote en quote, shut the fuck up.” Richie throws a hand over his heart and leans over Margo, using his height advantage. “It really hurts mah feelins, Eddie-Spaghetti’,” he says in the worst southern accent that Eddie has ever heard. He laughs, and it is not to break the silence, nowhere near awkward.

“That was awful. And don’t call me that.”

Margo shoots Eddie a look, ducking away from Richie and causing him to stumble. “Try living with it.”

Eddie is smiling, and laughing, with people he doesn’t even know. He hasn’t done much of that in a long time. “Yeah, I hear he never shuts up.”

“Your mom wasn’t complaining in bed last ni-“

“Beep beep,” Eddie and Margo say together, and burst into giggles once more.

The three of them chat for a little while longer before Eddie says that his mother will be worried about him, and quickly departs, his cheeks red and sore from smiling. He does not dislike Richie so much, finds him fascinating. He is still a bit of a mystery, as are the other two triplets. The way Richie got cold when Margo mentioned separating the three of them, and Margo’s apparent jealousy of Mike being with their father. Eddie thinks of the Tozier’s, as he walks home, of Richie. Of his curly hair and stupid glasses and lopsided smile.

Eddie almost drops the bags when his heart speeds up at the thought of the other boy.

He has never walked home so quickly.

Eddie likes to think he is a good son. He doesn’t stay up late or sneak out, his friends are, for the most part, well-liked by his mother, and he has never done any drugs.

(He tried one of Bev’s cigarettes, once, but coughed the second he inhaled, and hasn’t touched one since)

Helping Sonia unpack groceries is just one of Eddie’s many good qualities. There aren’t many, with just two of them, but he worries about his mother spending too much time by herself. He thinks that she worries about him, too.

“I ran into some kids from school,” Eddie comments as he passes her a carton of eggs. “They’re new.”

Sonia hums and straightens, putting the eggs on the shelf in the door. “Derry doesn’t get new people very often.”

“Yeah, I think they’ve probably heard enough of that. They’re triplets.” Eddie pulls out the Froot-Loops and puts them in a cabinet.

Eddie feels his mother's presence next to him, like a hawk. “Bad luck come in threes, Eddie-Bear.”

It just got very, very cold in the room. “I know, Ma.” And he does- Eddie knows this too well. His mother’s little superstitions have always gotten the better of her. No shoes past the entryway, never open an umbrella inside, knock on wood, etcetera. Eddie just entertains her, at this point, afraid of upsetting her more than he already has.

Sonia pats the side of Eddie’s face while he stares straight ahead at the ugly wallpaper. “Don’t talk to them, Eddie, sweetheart. Only bad things can come from it.”

Nodding and swallowing, Eddie looks down at his hands that are holding onto a bag of potatoes. Sonia’s band moves from his cheek down to his arm, hovering over the bare skin. Eddie holds his breath, waiting for her to ask what she always asks when things get too quiet between them-

“How are you feeling, Eddie-Bear? Are you taking your meds? You can always talk to me-“

“I’m fine, Ma!” Eddie puts the potatoes in the cabinet next to the spices. “Really.”

Her eyes start to water, and Eddie immediately feels bad. They’re both still recovering from the summer. “I’m sorry, Ma. I had a long day. I think I’m going to go to bed. Love you.”

Sonia says something, but Eddie is already walking out of the kitchen and up the stairs to his bedroom.

The library after school is always quiet. Eddie likes going there to do homework instead of going straight home. It’s quiet, and there is no Sonia Kaspbrak hovering over his shoulder. Usually Stan or Ben are usually with him, but Stan had plans with Bill, and Ben was joining the cross country team this year. Eddie is by himself in the library for the first time of the new school year.

Calculus is hard, especially with the most boring teacher that Eddie has ever had. One thing equals another thing but only sometimes- it’s starting to get jumbled in his head.

Eddie checks his answer for the fifth time, and it’s still wrong. Groaning, he crumples up the piece of notebook paper and tosses it somewhere behind him.

“Hey, that’s littering, Spaghetti-Man.” Richie is suddenly sliding into the spot across from Eddie, holding the crumpled up piece of paper in his hands, reading the failed problem. “You’re using sine. You should be using cosine.”

Blinking, Eddie snatches the paper back, scanning the paper for his error. “Shit, you’re right.” He grabs his notebook and starts rewriting the problem, trying to ignore Richie’s presence. “I’m awful at calculus.”

“Clearly.”

Eddie glances up at Richie’s response. Richie is resting his cheek on his fist, pushing up his glasses just the slightest bit, revealing more freckles splattered across his face. They stand out more on Richie’s pale skin than they do on Margo’s, who is tanner than her brother by a longshot.

If they were not in a public place, Eddie thinks that he may have jumped across the table and began to count each one.

“What are you doing here?” asks Eddie, fighting the urge to say something stupid.

“Mike has AV Club and Margo likes going on runs around the school while we wait.”

There is a beat of silence while Eddie waits for Richie to keep going. He doesn’t.

“I didn’t know we had an AV Club.”

Richie shifts, his arm hitting the table once it gets bored with supporting his head. “It’s kind of Mike’s whole thing. Walkie-talkies and radios and the like. What about you, Eddie-Spaghetti?”

Eddie wrinkles his nose. “What about me? And don’t call me that.”

His lips spread in the crooked way they usually do, giving Richie an almost evil look. “Okay, Eds. Why’re you here after school?”

Rolling his eyes and not bothering to correct him, Eddie shuts his notebook, deciding that he isn’t going to get anymore work done with Richie here. “It’s easier to get work done here than at home.”

Richie looks like he understands. “That makes sense. Are you doing anything after this?”

The question is so abrupt and unexpected that Eddie takes a few seconds to answer. His plans were just going home and hoping his mother won’t baby him, as well as waiting by the phone ready for Bill’s call that probably won’t come anyway. “No,” Eddie decides, figuring spending his birthday with a stranger is better than with his mother anyway.

“You are now!” Richie says, all too loudly for a library, standing up and grabbing Eddie’s calculus stuff and his backpack. “You’re going to show me all of the coolest spots around Derry. We have to take Mike and Margo home, first.”Margo and Mike home though. They like you, so they’ll let you sit in the front seat.”

Eddie’s eyebrows raise suspiciously. “You drive?”

The brown eyes behind Richie’s glasses glitter excitedly. “Sure do! Surprisingly I am the best driver in mí familia. They call me baby driver!”

Eddie’s face must read confusion, because Richie deflates. “Simon and Garfunkel? Bridge Over Troubled Water?” Eddie stares at him blankly. “Wowza Eds, uncultured much?”

Scoffing, Eddie stands up and holds his arm out in an attempt to get his stuff back. “Not all of us are music aficionados-“

Richie moves around him like a dancer, twirling and throwing and arm over Eddie’s shoulder. “They call me baby driver, and once upon a pair of wheels, I hit the road and I'm gone-“ he sings, his mouth close to Eddie’s ear. It sends a shiver down his spine.

“Okay, okay. I get the point.” Eddie ducks away from Richie, aiming another grab for his stuff. Richie is too tall and too fast, slipping away and towards the glass doors that lead into the hallway. “You sound like a dying goose.”

That’s not true, Eddie thinks. Richie’s voice sounds like the kind of thing you’d hear on the radio nowadays, on the rock stations his dad used to listen to-

“Spaghetti, you flatter me. Now. We’ll go stop by the AV room where Mike is then meet Margo somewhere outside.” Richie is out the doors within seconds.

Eddie’s head is still reeling from before, but he manages to follow, pushing his way out of the doors and jogging to catch up with Richie.

————————

They don’t quite make twin beds like they used to, Richie decides. When they were kids, the three of them could always squeeze into Mike’s without a problem, on the nights where their parents would fight well into the night and their mother would slam the front door as she headed out to the bar. But now that they’ve gotten older, Richie and Mike taller and lean with Margo curvy and filled out, it’s hard to find the right ways to lay so they can still be close.

The one benefit that they can all agree on is that at least, in the new apartment, they don’t have to sneak into Mike’s room. Margo just slips under the covers next to him. Richie doesn’t even have to touch the floor to squish in next to them.

Still, they all manage to fit somehow. Margo lays between her brothers, on top of them more than anything, her hair in a bun on top of her head so it does not get into anyone’s mouth. Richie’s chin is hooked over her shoulder, and Mike is on his side looking at them, up against the wall.

Richie pulls the blanket up over their heads, blocking out the sounds of the street below their window. All of their bedding are just sheets that they found at some hand-me-down store and quilts made by their grandmother, and no matter how long it has been since she died, Richie still thinks it smells like her.

“It’s weird being under here and not hearing mom and dad fighting,” whispers Margo. Richie has to agree- they haven’t done this since they moved. Since before the divorce, since the court ordeal.

“Dad’s probably glad to finally be getting some sleep,” Mike says into her cheek. “He never got that when he was with mom.”

Richie can feel the small laughs that Mike and Margo give. His blood boils, his skin crawls, the hair on the back of his neck stands up. He doesn’t say anything, for once in his life.

Wentworth Tozier always liked Margo and Mike better, for whatever reason. Maggie liked Richie. She listened to him when he cried and never ever blamed him when he would get sent home early from school because he got in a fight, or cursed out a teacher. Margo never connect with her namesake like a normal daughter did, and Mike thinks that their mother was trashy.

Richie saw her for everything she was, because she was the only one who did the same for him.

The last time the three of them had gathered under Mike’s covers, Richie had told them that he wanted to live with Maggie. Margo had pushed him out of the bed and Mike had started yelling, something that Mike didn’t usually do. Went had to come break them up at three am, and all three of them got grounded.

The judge didn’t allow siblings to be separated, much less triplets, unless it was special circumstances. The Tozier’s divorce was anything but. Maggie had gotten pregnant before she and Wentworth were even married, so they wed a month later and found out they were triplets two after that.

Went and Maggie were never meant to last. That much is true. It’s surprising that they made it sixteen years.

“They were in love, once.” Margo’s hand slips into Richie’s, which was resting against her stomach. It’s as if she can read his mind. Which, Richie reminds himself, she probably can. “At least, I like to think so.”

“Leave it to Margo to be the romantic,” Richie says, his voice soft and earnest. His heart hurts, although his words betray him.

Mike’s fingers find their way to Margo and Richie’s clasped ones, covering them with his own. It is comforting, despite everything.

If he cannot have his mother, Richie thinks that having his siblings isn’t so bad either.

Wentworth greets his kids when they come home from school with a simple hand raise from his paperwork, which is spread on their dining table. Margo greets their father with a kiss on the cheek and a barrage of questions about the work he’s doing. Richie isn’t interested, and plans on leaving the room and heading to their bedroom as quickly as he possibly can, but their conversation catches his ears while he is digging through the empty fridge.

“-nd Richie will have to go grocery shopping while Mike and I are out of town.”

Just catching the end of the conversation, Richie can already tell that Margo is livid. “That’s not fair! Why does Mike get to go?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mike retorts.

“Settle down, Margaret-”

“That’s not my name-”

“-Michael is coming and that’s final.”

Margo growls something incomprehensible and storms out of the room, and down the hallway a few seconds later, slams their bedroom door shut. Mike’s chair screeches against the floor as he stands and leaves, following Margo out of the room. Richie never understood why those two got along better than they did with Richie, except for when it came to their dad. They were always vying to be the favorite, leaving Richie behind in the dust.

Standing alone with his father, Richie looks awkwardly over at him. Went looks exasperated, taking off his glasses and rubbing at his forehead. A million things cross Richie’s mind to ask, but he settles on, “You got a grocery list?”

Wentworth digs through the stacks of paper for a few seconds, looking for a spare piece to scribble down everything they need. He finds it and does so, passing it to Richie, along with a twenty dollar bill. “That should be enough.”

Taking it, Richie nods. “Thanks.” He spares one last look over his shoulder at his father, who has returned to his work, then leaves the kitchen. “Good talk.”

Richie finds Mike standing in the hallway outside of their bedroom, hitting his fist against the door and twisting the knob every few knocks. “Margo you’re being completely unreasonable-”

“Just leave her alone, Mikey, clearly she’s upset that she’s not the favorite today.”

Mike shoots Richie a devilish glare, shaking the knob as he does so. “Just because you and dad don’t get along doesn’t mean he plays favorites.”

“Sophie’s Choice, that’s all I’m saying.” Richie gets close to his brother, talking his own turn at hitting the door. “Are you coming with me to the store or not?”

Neither boy expects it to swing open, but it does, revealing their sister. Margo wipes at her face, shoving past the two of them and out of the apartment, presumably to Richie’s car. The brothers sigh at the same time, then share a look.

“See you, Rich.”

“Bye Mike.” Richie follows his sister out of the apartment, ignoring whatever Mike says after him.

Eddie is visibly uncomfortable in the passenger seat of Richie’s car, having offered the spot several times to Mike and Margo, who sit in the back and chat idly with him. He fidgets with his seatbelt and stares nervously out the window as Richie pulls out of the school parking lot, as if waiting for something terrible to happen.

“I told you I’m a good driver, Eds.”

Margo and Mike both laugh as Eddie whips around to look at Richie, his eyebrows raised and his eyes wide. “Don’t call me that.”

Richie pays extra attention to his driving for once, stopping for longer than necessary at stop signs, staying below the speed limit, and keeping his eyes on the road instead of looking at Eddie, like how he wants. Out of the corner of his eye, Richie can see Eddie’s grip on the door loosen with every passing second.

When they finally pull into their apartment parking lot, Eddie looks up at the building. “My friend Beverly lives here.”

Richie parks and grins wildly. He and Beverly have PE together, and smoke outside during lunch together. “Miss Marsh! I love that girl.”

Margo pats Eddie’s shoulder, signaling that he needs to get out so that her and Mike can get out of the car. Eddie does so, opening the door and stepping onto the sidewalk next to the car.

“Bye, Eddie!” Margo says cheerily after she and Mike have both gotten out.

“Have fun on your date.” Mike winks at Eddie, then heads inside with Margo. Richie can feel his cheeks turn pink, and worries briefly that Eddie is offended.

He doesn’t appear to be as he slips back inside. Richie reaches towards the seats in the back for his cassettes, hiding his pink face for a few moments, looking for one in particular.

“Aha!” He cheers, emerging and holding up his most prized tape.

Eddie takes a second to read it, then smiles. “Bridge over troubled water.”

Richie shifts in his seat and puts it into the player, backing out of the spot as the car processes the tape. “I love this album,” he says, not mentioning that is was a gift from his mother, the day that they moved. “I could listen to it forever.”

Art Garfunkel starts singing the opening verse and Richie hums along, stopping at the turn out of the lot and awaiting Eddie’s directions.

He takes a few seconds to think, then says, “turn left and head down Mile Hill. We can go to the quarry.”

“Sounds exciting,” mutters Richie to himself, doing as he is told. He continues humming, and feels Eddie’s eyes on him.

They pass by all of the stores and enter a more residential area that Richie hasn’t been down before.

“Down that street is 29 Neibolt. It’s totally haunted.” Richie can hear the shakiness in Eddie’s voice.

“Why do people say it's haunted?” Richie glances over at the passenger seat and hopes that Eddie doesn’t chew him out for it. But Eddie isn’t even looking over at him, just out the window.

“When we were like, thirteen, a bunch of us went in there.”

“No shit!”

“Yes shit,” Eddie grimaces, but there is almost a laugh in his voice. They are well past Neibolt street, yet he still seems shaken. “We got seperated and I fell through the floor and broke my arm.”

In an attempt to cheer him up, Richie jokes, “what, did a ghost push ya?”

Eddie just huffs. “No, dumbass.” Finally, he looks back over at Richie. Averting his gaze back to the road, Richie tries to keep his eyes on the road. “It just seems like… the house was purposefully separating us, you know?”

He doesn’t.

“There’s this old science facility in my hometown that everyone says is haunted. Says some crazy experiments on kids and shit went down in there.” Richie glances once more over at Eddie, who is still looking at him. “I was never brave enough to go in. I’ve heard stories from people who did, though.”

Eddie raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Really.”

“Mhm. Mike and his friends went in one time. Found a bunch of old records of these freaky kids-“

“This is so fake.”

“It’s not!” Richie defends, laughing, but is sure that it is. He wouldn’t put it past Dustin or Lucas to pull that kind of shit and swear it's true until the day they die.

Quiet befalls them, after a few moments of laughter. “There’s a dirt road you turn onto, up here.”

The ride gets bumpy as Richie does so, then stops once Eddie tells him to. The duo get out of the car, and the sound of shutting the doors echoes through the trees that now surround them. Richie notices a cliffside, and heads over to it, raising his eyebrows. “You trying to kill me, Spaghetti?”

“If you keep calling me that, I will.” Eddie joins Richie at the edge. “The Losers always come here during the summer to jump off or play loogie. Usually I just go down to that rocky area down there and wait for the others-“

Richie holds his hand up. “Wait, why don’t you ever jump?”

Crossing his arms across his chest protectively, Eddie takes a few steps away from the cliffside. “Because I don’t have a death wish.”

“You’ve never jumped?”

Eddie shakes his head no.

Richie claps his hands together, making Eddie jump. “Well, today is your lucky day, Spaghetti. We are jumping off this cliff right now.”

A beat of silence. Then, “you’re fucking kidding me. I shouldn’t have brought you here.” Eddie turns and starts to walk back to Richie’s car, but stops when Richie reaches out and grabs his hand. Richie notices that it is shaking.

“Come on, Spaghetti-Man. It’ll be like a baptism. New school year, new us!” Richie lets go of Eddie’s hand, reluctantly, and shrugs off the jean jacket he was wearing and starts to kick off his shoes.

Eddie turns slowly, staring at Richie has he removes each layer of his clothing. After the shoes, Richie removes the belt from his acid wash jeans, then his yellow t-shirt. As his hands go to the hem of his jeans, Eddie speaks once more.

“If I jump will you stop calling me those shitty nicknames?” Richie notices that Eddie is looking anywhere other than him. “And don’t tell the others?”

“Sure,” Richie promises, almost letting Eds slip out of his mouth. He holds out a pinkie, keeping his other hand at his jeans.

Rolling his eyes, Eddie steps forward and slips his pinkie into Richie’s. “I hate you.”

Richie grins and pumps their hands up and down once, sealing the deal. “Nah that’s wha I’m talkin abaht!”

Eddie pulls his hand away, his shaking hands going to the sleeves of his t-shirt around his wrists. “That accent is awful.”

Sensing that Eddie is uncomfortable, Richie turns to face he edge and swiftly takes off his jeans, leaving him in just his plaid boxers. He places his hands on his hips and stares out at the glittering water fondly. It is a bright bluish-green underneath the sun, and perfectly flat, like glass.

Eddie materializes next to Richie after a minute, his chest and legs bare.

Richie scans Eddie’s small body. His skin is slightly tan, like he spent the last few weeks of summer outside, and his shoulders and arms covered in freckles that his face lack. His arms are crossed tightly to his chest, hiding the scars that Richie knows are there. They don’t cover the ones on the thighs, which are white against his sun-kissed skin.

“Staring is rude,” Eddie snaps, making Richie avert his eyes.

Richie leans over the side, his cheeks pink and mirroring Eddie’s. “Briefs; I approve.”

“I fucking hate you.” Eddie reidderates, stepping backwards and going towards his clothes.

“Nuh-uh! You promised.” Richie grabs Eddie’s wrist, making him wince, tugging him back to his side. “We can jump together.”

Their brown eyes connect, something passing between them. Eddie sighs, looking away. “Okay. Whatever.” Clasping their hands together tightly, Richie pulls them up to the edge, their toes hanging over. Eddie’s palms are shaky and sweating. “You aren’t going to take your glasses off?”

Richie shrugs, taking a deep breath. “You ready?”

“No,” Eddie says, his voice dripping honesty and fear. “You?”

The distant sound of a highway and birds chipping fills Richie’s ears, but Eddie’s voice comforts him. “No,” he admits. “This isn’t even the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

“I believe that.” Richie feels Eddie squeeze his hand. “I broke my fucking arm falling through the floor.”

A laugh bubbles in Richie’s chest. “On the count of three.”

Eddie nods. “One…”

“Two.”

There is a beat as Eddie hesitates on three. Then a yelp as Richie is tugging them both off the side. Richie doesn’t even get to think about how funny Eddie’s scream is before they’re both hitting the water, shattering the glass surface. It’s cold, Richie realizes first, then, Eddie’s hand is gone. Richie breaks the surface, pushing his hair away from his face and his glasses up onto the top of his head. Eddie is already up, gasping for breath. “You fucking suck, Tozier.”

“Your mom wasn’t complaining about it-”

Richie chokes and sputters on the water that Eddie splashes at him. “I can’t believe you made me do this, I could’ve died-”

“But we didn’t!” Richie says cheerily, staring at the blur that he knows is Eddie. “You jumped off a cliff with someone you’ve talked to a grand total of once before today!” Richie floats on his back, staring up at the shifting clouds.

Eddie’s hands push at Richie’s side, moving them towards the shore where The Losers usually hang out so that they can actually stand up. Richie lets him, closing his eyes and the corner of his mouth turning up. “Can’t keep your hands off of me, huh, Eds?”

“Didn’t you promise to stop calling me that?”

Richie moves to place his feet on the ground now that they can, keeping most of his torso under the water, just his head and shoulders above the surface. He stares up at Eddie, who is still a blur, but Richie thinks he might be almost smiling. “What would you rather I call you? Baby? Dear? Sweatpea, darling, loverboy-”

“Richie, can I tell you something?”

Richie stops his teasing, furrowing his brows. He nods his head aggressively so his glasses fall off his head and down onto the tip of his nose. Eddie pushes them up before Richie can even get to it, then drops his hands so that they rest on Richie’s warm shoulders. “Yeah, of course you can.”

Eddie crouches down so that he is at eye level and is also mostly underwater, keeping his hands on Richie’s shoulders. Richie expects some sort of confession, like about the scars on his arms and thighs or why everyone at school seems to treat Eddie like he’s a glass house just waiting for a rock to be thrown.

The breath that Eddie sucks in is shaky. “It’s my birthday.”

He has to laugh. Richie leans forward a little, not believing that Eddie made a big deal out of that. “Okay? Happy birthday?”

Eddie is moving away before Richie can truly appreciate how close they are. “I just... It feels like a big deal. For some reason.”

Richie can read between the lines, he isn’t stupid. Eddie is telling him, I didn’t expect to make it this far. Eddie is still under the water, but if Richie squints, he can see the lines that Eddie is trying hard to hide from him. Richie has heard some of the things people say about Eddie- but most of them contradict each other. He won’t pry, not yet. Today, he will just support his new friend and call him stupid nicknames.

“Every birthday is a big deal to Richie Tozier!” Richie exclaims, moving to toss an arm around Eddie’s shoulders, and begins to sing a terrible rendition of For He’s A Jolly Good Fellow, making Eddie laugh but not shove him away.

They go underneath the water once more, together, and this time, they do not separate.

#reddie #reddiefanfic #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #it 2017 #it (2017)#shut up mary

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satoruvt · 7 years ago

Text

repayment

im !! super excited for this !! i love bill a lot

pairing → bill denbrough x reader

summary → the losers club has a slumber party at bill’s house, and when you wake up in the night to get a drink, you spend some time with bill.

word count → 853

When Richie brought up the idea of a sleepover at Bill’s, no one really protested. The only reason he brought it up was because Bill had mentioned he got a trampoline, and Richie (and you, too) wanted to know what it’d be like to spend the night sleeping on it.

So within the next hour, all of you went to your houses and got sleeping bags, pillows, blankets, and snacks (“Don’t forget stuff for s’mores!” Bev had said) to spend the night. Bill welcomed you all in, leading the way to his backyard. Once outside, you noticed there was a twelve pack of some off-brand soda and a few water bottles.

The second Richie saw the trampoline, he dropped all of his shit and immediately ran to it. Eddie was yelling at him about the thousands of ways he could break a bone or die from a trampoline accident, but he didn’t seem to care, still jumping.

The sun was starting to set, now - the blue of the sky turning into a mix of orange and pink and purple. Bill’s father came out to start a small fire in the fire pit, then left with a tired smile. All of you huddled around the fire, putting marshmallows on sticks and holding them above the fire. Despite everything that had happened the last few weeks - figuring out what happened to the missing kids, trying to fight an evil clown - you were having the time of your life.

“Marshmallows are so weird,” Beverly said at one point. “Like, they’re these sugary, soft, squishy things. And you can never get tired of them.”

“Yeah, just like Eddie’s mom.”

As if on cue, everyone spoke “beep beep, Richie,” without hesitation. He only grinned.

Pretty soon, everyone was laying together on the trampoline. It was a warm night, so blankets weren’t really needed, but everyone was snuggled up in one anyway. The small giggles and whispers slowed not long after everyone had gotten on the trampoline. Still feeling awake, you decided to grab a drink.

You carefully walk around those laying down (in your peripheral vision you notice Eddie and Richie cuddled together, and you smile. You’ll have to remember to tease them about it tomorrow) and jump off the trampoline. You walk quietly to a table near the house, grabbing a soda can and opening it as quietly as you can.

It’s at this point that you decide to look up at the sky, and you smile to yourself once you do. The sky is littered with millions and billions of stars, mixed in with colors of blue and purple and a little bit of gold mixed in.

“Buh-buh-beautiful, huh?” A voice says softly, and you jump before turning around.

“Jesus Christ, Bill,” you say, putting a hand over your heart. It’s racing. “You scared me.”

Bill smiles sheepishly. “S-Sorry.”

A moment of silence passes before you speak, smiling back at him. “You’re right, though. It is beautiful.”

The two of you talk - softly, so as not to wake anyone - and you notice things. You notice the way the conversation flows easily between you two, and never slows. You notice Bill’s eyes, how they shine with passion and determination.

You notice his lips.

That’s when you pull yourself out of your noticing, because you’ve never thought of Bill in that way before. Your mind’s reeling at a mile a minute until Bill speaks after a small pause.

“I-I’m sorry w-w-we got you into this mess, with... I-It. With all the sh-shit that’s been going on, i-it’s just…” he pauses, sighing. “I-I don’t know. The whole thing’s t-t-terrifying, and y-you don’t have a-any reason to help us out, really-”

“I care about you guys,” you cut him off, voice quieter than before. “You mean everything to me, all of you - I’m going to be there every step of the way until this… this thing is gone. Even if It’s not coming for me specifically, I sure as hell won’t let It get any of you.” You finish, looking at Bill.

You’re noticing again. You notice how close the two of you have gotten. You notice Bill’s eyes, how clear they are, how they’re shining.

You notice his lips.

“I-I just wish there was someway I c-could repay you,” Bill says, almost whispers, and you see that his eyes flicker to your lips for half a second. He leans closer, just a bit.

You swallow, and you feel your face heat up. “I can think of a few things,” you whisper, and you’re gone.

Noticing seems to be a common theme tonight, because you’re doing it again. You notice how warm Bill is. You notice his arms around your waist, and how they feel right there. You notice, once you pull away, that his lips taste a bit like chocolate and marshmallows. S’mores, you remember, smiling inwardly.

Bill separates himself from you, not by much, barely an inch. You realize you’re both blushing as red as roses and that realization alone makes you feel hotter.

Through your dreamy haze, you say with a smile, “That’s one way to repay me.”

BONUS!

“Also, I noticed Richie and Eddie cuddling. Do you have a polaroid?” You ask Bill with a mischievous smile, and he grins.

“S-Sure do. This’ll be h-h-hell for them in the morning.”

#it #it 2017 #Stephen King's IT #bill denbrough #beverly marsh #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #ben hanscom #mike hanlon #stanley uris #bill denbrough x reader #x reader #reader insert #imagine #reddie

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d0gdaze · 7 years ago

Text

Also on AO3

Chapters: 1 . 2 . 3 . 4 . 5 . 6 . 7 . 8 . 9 . (ongoing)

Reddie / Stenbrough

Word Count: 3289

Summary: Eddie Kaspbrak is set up on a date with a friend of a friend, and this Tozier guy is a hot mess. || Stan has feelings. Bill is confused. Long and angsty and may or may not contain a roadtrip. AU - no IT. Characters are 17/18. Set in early nineties. More film based but contains elements from the miniseries and the book.

-Chapter 6-

The next day, everyone awoke in their own beds (or in Richie's case, the back seat of his truck), all hungover in one way or another, either from alcohol or emotion, or both. Ben was decidedly worse off than the rest of them, having had to rush to the bathroom at three in the morning to puke.

Bill had never felt worse. Knowing that he had probably just ended his friendship with Stan, someone he had known and loved and trusted, and who had trusted him, since they were kids. Knowing that they would have to talk, and it would be so hard and he would be stuttering so bad, and he would probably cry. And if Stan cried, fuck, he wouldn't be able to handle that. So he had lied there all night, counting the seconds, hoping that hey, maybe the sun would explode, or maybe he would succumb to some illness he didn't know he had, or maybe the floor beneath him would open up and swallow him whole, all of these things sounding so much better than talking to his best friend the next day.

Straight boys don't make out with other boys.

He couldn't get that particular thought out of his head. It felt so constricting, so uncomfortable. He had no idea what to do about it.

Straight boys don't make out with other boys.

But he was straight. He was sure of it. It had been one of the only constants in his life, up until the night before.

But straight boys don't make out with other boys.

The sun came up all too fast. Soon he could hear his family downstairs, Georgie switching on the television to watch morning cartoons, his mother idly humming as she cooked, the smell of bacon and eggs slowly sifting up to his room. Stan would undoubtedly be knocking on his front door within the hour.

Stan had gotten up before sunrise to go for a walk, deciding that he needed the fresh air after a very restless night. He had grabbed his birdwatching handbook and binoculars before he left the house. Birdwatching was something he used to do a lot when he was younger, whenever he wasn't with his friends or filling his religious obligations you could usually find him sat on a park bench, binoculars fixed on a birdbath or a specific tree. He had had a lot less time for it lately, but he still indulged himself when the rare opportunity occurred. When he was younger he could have named every bird as soon as he saw it and spell it correctly back to front, but that information had since been replaced with more important things, and he was much slower to recognise anything. It didn't bother him too much, really. He still enjoyed himself very much.

But he wasn't thinking much about birds as he walked down the street.

He was thinking about Bill.

His feelings were so muddled about the night before. He couldn't really remember any specific details, and what he did recall were broken up in fragments that didn't make sense when he put them together. The feeling of Bill's arms around his shoulders in the living room. Of Bill's breath, hot on his skin. Bill moaning softly as Stan dug his fingers into his waist. Bill's tongue in his mouth. He felt his face heating up.

It was everything he wanted, right? Yes, he liked Bill, he wanted to be with Bill, and that's what he got. He should be happy, right?

But it feels so wrong.

He had wanted to be with Bill, eventually, but not like that. Not so drunk they couldn't see straight. Not locked in someone else's bathroom covered in each other's drool, barely remembering any of it the next day.

He figured he should go talk to Bill about it, but what would he even say?

'Hey babe, had a super fun time eating your face last night but I think it was a mistake and I wish it never happened!'

He shook his head. It'll be fine! It was Bill, for god sakes, they trusted each other enough to talk about this.

Everything will be fine.

Bill dragged himself out of bed at 7.38am, figuring he would have to get up sooner or later, and he didn't really want his parents coming into his room to wake him.

He stumbled his way to the bathroom, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

He nearly screamed when he saw his reflection.

The left side of his neck was littered with hickeys. Big, blueish-purple marks all the way from his collarbone to his jawline.

“Oh fuck,” he said, leaning in closer to the mirror to get a better look, “motherf-fucker.”

There was a knock at the door, and he jumped.

“You okay in there Billy? Heard you swearing.”

Georgie.

“Y-yeah, George, I'm fine,” he called out, “just d-dropped something.”

“Mkay!”

Bill went back to inspecting the lovebites Stan had gifted him.

Fuck.

He knew that if his parents saw they would not be happy. And he knew that if any of his friends saw, they wouldn't let him live it down.

FUCK.

He searched his brain for a resolution, something, anything.

It was far too hot out to hide it up with a scarf, so that was out.

Maybe he could cover it with something?

He opened the mirror cabinet, knowing his mother kept some of her makeup in here somewhere. He rummaged around the shelves until he found a small tube labelled 'foundation'.

Here goes nothing.

He squeezed a far too generous amount into his palm and awkwardly rubbed it onto the side of his neck, and after he worked at it for a minute he decided that it was good enough, nowhere near perfect (it was too dark for his skin tone and you could still see the bruises coming through if you looked close enough), but enough to get away with it as long as he didn't draw attention.

He replaced the tube back in the cabinet, and cleaned up what had dripped onto the sink.

Stan had cut his birdwatching endeavour short, only staying in the park for half an hour or so before the lack of actual birds started to frustrate him and he left. He decided to take the long way around to Bill's, figuring that it was a nice enough morning, and the extra time he would have to think couldn't do much harm.

He could hear birds chirping in the trees around him as he walked, which irritated him slightly because where were the little bastards when he was looking for them earlier, huh? But it was still a sound he found soothing, and it helped calm his nerves, if only a little.

Somehow the walk that should have taken twenty minutes seemed to only take three, and before he knew it he was standing on Bill's front porch.

He straightened himself up and knocked on the door. He heard excited footsteps approaching him and soon enough Georgie was standing in front of him, flashing a toothy grin.

“Hey Georgie, is Bill here?”

“He's upstairs, I'll take you to him!”

Before Stan could refuse, Georgie had taken him by the hand and was leading him up the stairs, bounding up them two steps at a time. Stan just followed and laughed.

They stopped in front of Bill's room, and Stan braced himself before opening the door.

A few minutes later they were sitting under the tree in Bill's backyard, they didn't stay in his room as they didn't want to risk his parents overhearing anything or walking in while they talked.

“L-l-look, S-stan, I th-th-th- ab-b-b-bout l-l-” Bill was getting frustrated, it showed on his face, and he dig his fingernails into his palms. Stan just listened patiently, nodding gently, letting him know to continue.

“L-l-last n-nuh-night, it wh-was,” he could feel tears forming behind his eyes, a dry lump in the back of his throat.

Just talk, talk like a normal person for once, fucking hell.

“It w-w-was, was a m-m-m-muh, fuck,” his tongue just refused to do what he wanted, he could feel his hands trembling, his eyes blinking rapidly to stop himself from crying.

“It was a mistake,” Stan finished his sentence for him, “yeah, I know.”

Bill stared at him, feeling confused and angry and relieved all at once. He broke down, collapsing into Stan's chest, and just sobbed until the tight pain in his chest disappeared. Stan held him the whole time, not saying anything, not crying, not being able to pinpoint any particular emotion. He felt blank. There was no other way to describe it. He felt as if all of his feelings, good or bad, had just left his body, leaving an empty shell. Maybe they would return, maybe they wouldn't. He didn't know. Maybe they had left him and fallen into Bill somehow.

So he held his friend on his lap, unable to cry, or speak, or feel anything.

Eventually Bill stopped crying, stood himself up, gave Stan a weak smile, and headed inside, making sure he avoided his parents and brother as he went to his room.

Neither one had said what they really wanted to say. In a weird way, they were both glad they didn't. As it was, they could just spend a few days apart, and then they would be able to continue as if nothing happened. Their friends wouldn't ever need to find out. They wouldn't fight. They could just shake it off and pretend it didn't mean anything.

They didn't need to make it worse by talking about it.

That afternoon, Richie had met up with Beverly in town, and they had sat on the curb outside of the ice-creamery (Bev got vanilla and Richie got strawberry), talking about everything and nothing at all. Eddie, Mike, and Ben were all invited but turned the offer down, Mike and Ben had gone to the library together and Eddie was staying home to help Mrs. Kaspbrak clean up the house a little. So they were alone, and they both rather appreciated that fact.

“You and Eddie seem to be going pretty well,” Bev said, ever so casually, after finishing off the last bite of her cone.

“Yeah, well, I dunno about that.”

“Really? You looked pretty comfortable with each other a few nights ago.”

“That was before I told him I was leaving.”

Bev's smile faded from her face.

“Leaving?”

“Bev, you know I can't stay here. I love you guys but-” She was glaring at him now.

“But what, Richie?”

He shook his head. “I just... it's like I've spent my entire life in this cage, just wishing to be able to get up and go, and live the way I want to, and now I can, Bev. And I did, I left home in the middle of the night and just drove, and it's the best feeling in the world. And I need my life to be like that, Bev. Derry's just another cage. And maybe it's much better than my old one, the bars are wider apart and I've got other's to share it with. But it's still a cage.”

Beverly had to stop herself from slapping him in the face.

“This isn't fucking Dead Poet's Society, Richie! You can't just scream 'cease the day' and go live out of your fucking car!” The outburst was making a few people on the street turn their heads. Richie was in a mild state of shock. “I actually can't believe you right now, Tozier.”

“Bev-”

“What do you think is even out there for you, dude? It's like, we're all here, and we care about you, and we will help you, but you still don't think that's good enough?”

“Bev, please-”

“You don't think I'm good enough? Or Bill? Or Eddie, for god's sake?”

“Beverly.”

“Because I have known that kid for years and he has never, ever, opened himself up to someone the way he has with you. He was looking at you last night like you were the whole goddamn world. And if you fuck that up, I swear I'll-”

“BEV.”

“WHAT?”

Beverly fell silent, breathing heavily, eyes still angrily and somewhat desperately fixated on Richie.

Richie had plenty of things he wanted to say right then.

If I don't leave now, I'll never be happy.

If I don't leave now, you're all going to get sick of me.

If I don't leave now, I'll never want to go.

If I don't leave now, Eddie will realise how fucking messed up I am.

He said nothing.

“You know what, Richie? Fine. Go. If you don't want to stay then don't.”

She stood up and looked down at him, scowling.

“But don't call in seven years and ask to come back.”

And with that she stormed off, leaving Richie feeling wounded on the side of the road.

“What the f-fuck do you mean you're l-leaving?”

The seven of them were standing in Bill's front yard, all looking with differing expressions towards Richie, who was nonchalantly leaning against his truck, cigarette hanging out of his mouth, appearing much more relaxed than he actually was.

“I mean I'm leaving. Hitting the road. Saying sayonara. Adios. So long, fair well, auf Wiedersehen good night. Thanks for the accommodation Big Bill, hopefully I'll see you round the way sometime.”

Eddie couldn't understand what he was hearing. He felt helpless, unable to do anything. It was a bad dream, surely. Surely he wasn't really going, that it was all a joke. He would get in his truck and wave goodbye only to drive around the block and reappear yelling 'SIKE!' or something stupid, and they would roll their eyes and he would laugh and he would stay.

They still needed time.

They still needed to work things out.

He knew he didn't love Richie yet, but if he left he would never get to find out if he would.

Eddie felt panic set in, his breathing becoming shallower, his body completely frozen. He couldn't move. He couldn't speak. All he could do was watch as Richie started to walk towards Bill, saying what might be his last goodbye.

Richie walked around to each of them individually, exchanging parting words and hugs.

“Bill, say goodbye to ol' Georgie for me. I wish I coulda seen him again.” “Stan the man! You bloomin' legend! Stay gorgeous, babe.”

“T'was a pleasure Hanscom, just wish it hadn't been so short-lived.”

“Mikey, my boy, keep keeping 'em in line, champ.”

Beverly had been avoiding eye contact with him through the whole affair.

“Miss Marsh,” he said, sounding as genuine as he could, keeping his voice low so the others wouldn't overhear, “I would say sorry, but I know it wouldn't be enough.” Bev finally met his eye, and he could see the utter distraught in her face before she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“If you ever find that you've forgiven me, I pray you'll call.”

Beverly kissed him on the cheek before letting him go.

And then Richie turned to Eddie, who had watched him the whole time, trying not to blink, trying not to hyperventilate.

Richie stood close enough that he was all Eddie could see.

“Don't leave now. You said two weeks.” Eddie whimpered.

Richie pulled him into a tight hug, resting his chin on the top of his head.

“Perhaps in another lifetime, love.”

“Please stay.”

Richie pulled away, only slightly, and tilted Eddie's chin up with one finger.

Then, Richie whispered something into his ear. To everyone else, due to the angle, it looked like a kiss.

And with that, Richie Tozier got into the driver's seat of his dirty, maroon, pick-up truck, waved at them one last time, and drove away. The next ten seconds were the longest ten seconds Eddie had ever experienced. As the rest of them watched the truck's taillights get further and further away, he stared at the ground. Suddenly he saw his whole future split in two. One half where Richie drove away into the night, never to be seen again. He would go back to his house, his mother would scold him for being out at night without a jacket. He would go to sleep and wake up and Richie would be in some other town. And Eddie would see his friends every day until eventually they moved or drifted apart as friends often did. He would leave his mother's house in a few years and have a place of his own, and he may even fall in love with someone else, get married, live a good, content, happy little life. And there would be days when he thought about Richie and there would be days when he didn't. And there would be days when Richie was just a foggy memory, possibly a dream, a good dream, but with out any reason to believe it was real. And Richie would do much the same or maybe he would just drive until it killed him.

And then the was the other half.

The half that scared him nearly to death.

Every single atom in his body was telling him to stay where he was. Just stand there, just watch him drive away. Don't do anything stupid. Dear god, don't do anything stupid. He's gone. He's gone and you can't change that. Don't do anything stupid. What would your mother do? What would your friends do? What would you do? DON'T DO ANYTHING STUPID.

“The offer still stands, you know.”

Eddie's feet hit the pavement before he even knew what he was doing. He sprinted as fast as he could possibly go, chasing after the truck, chasing after Richie. He could hear his friend's calling out his name, telling him to stop, what the hell are you doing?

He just ran faster, faster than he had ever run before, smiling and laughing the whole time, so weightless and euphoric that he felt he might start flying.

Richie had turned the radio all the way up, trying to drown out his thoughts. He had used all of his strength trying not to cry in front of the others, so as soon as he was out of their line of sight he just bawled, ugly, fat tears pouring down his cheeks, his glasses fogging up so much that he had to pull over.

He didn't notice Eddie sprinting to his car. In fact he didn't notice Eddie until he had already climbed into the passenger side seat, red-faced and drenched in sweat, panting and wheezing, looking like he had just finished a marathon.

“Ed, what are you-” he didn't have time to finish sniffling his way through his sentence before Eddie kissed him, probably the grossest kiss ever between all the snot and sweat and the fact that Eddie could barely breath and Richie was still uncontrollably sobbing, but in the moment they swore it was the best kiss that either of them had ever had.

Eddie had to use his inhaler a few times after they pulled apart, and Richie went to work drying his own face with the sleeves of his jacket.

Soon they could see Beverly, Bill, Stan, Mike, and Ben approaching quickly through the rearview mirror.

“Drive,” Eddie said, turning to Richie with wide eyes and a slightly crazed look on his face. “Ed-” “God damn it just drive!”

Richie quickly started the car and speeded away, until they couldn't see them anymore.

“Where are we going, love?” he asked, glancing over at Eddie who was smiling wider than ever, looking insane but still so fucking beautiful.

“Wherever the road takes us.”

#writing #reddie #stenbrough #reddie fanfic #stenbrough fanfic

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solarpunksoftie · 8 years ago

Text

additional fun facts about the Gene Pool

because i cant be stopped and oh hello new obsession

my sides

A - Adrienne E - Ethan L - Laura P - Pandora D - Daryl

Favourite Colour

A - Green

E - Red

L - Blue

P - Yellow

D - Purple

Favourite Music

A - The Struts, Major Lazer, Ariana Grande

E - Rise Against, Green Day, Paramore

L - Lindsey Stirling, Sleeping At Last, Ratatat

P - KONGOS, Arctic Monkeys, Bastille

D - Twenty One Pilots, The Neighborhood, The Front Bottoms

Favourite Foods/Bev

A - Popsicles, Bananas, Mussels / Dr. Pepper

E - Yogurt+Granola, Lamb, Bacon / Juice

L - Steak, Mushrooms, Ramen(its convenient!) / Tea

P - Berries, Spaghetti, Clif Bars (chocolatey ones) / Coffee

D - BBQ Chips, Goldfish, Cheesecake / Hot Cocoa

Favourite Movie

A - Avengers

E - The Sting

L - Cosmos: War of the Planets (they fuckin lov terrible movies)

P - Indiana Jones and the Lost Arc

D - Heathers

Favourite T.V. Show

A - Rick and Morty

E - Brooklyn Nine-Nine

L - Star Trek (tos)

P - The Walking Dead

D - Cutthroat Kitchen

Favourite Fiction Genre / AO3 Tag

A - Action / Smut

E - Drama / Hurt Comfort

L - Sci-fi / College AU

P - Fantasy / Graphic Depictions of Violence

D - Slice of Life / Whump

Favourite Musical / Song from it

A - Catch Me If You Can / Live in Living Color

E - Les Miserables / Do You Hear The People Sing

L - Hamilton / Non-Stop

P - Into The Woods / I Know Things Now

D - Heathers / Lifeboat

Favourite Activity

A - sex, dancing, late night shenanigans with friends

E - attending protests, witchcraft, hiking

L - painting, research, watching movies

P - cooking, playing horror games, playing with animals

D - sleeping, listening to music, cuddling (but they’ll never admit it)

Favourite Affection

A - kisses. not necessarily romantic, forehead, cheek, hand, etc are all awesome

E - massages, especially shoulders

L - hair play

P - hand holding and casual touches

D - hugs, but so touch starved he’ll take anything

Favourite exercise

A - Dance!

E - Swimming

L - Climbing

P - Bicycle

D - pass…

If They Had A Super Power…

A - Flight

E - Pyrokinesis/Pyrogenesis

L - Time Stop

P - Invincibility

D - Invisibility

Weapon Of Choice

A - Falchion… specifically this one

E - spiked bat

L - Pistol

P - Bowie Knife

D - Switchblade

Travel Destination

A - Amsterdam OR Cross Country Road Trip

E - International Relief Aid (they have no concept of relaxation)

L - Ireland

P - Hawaii

D - no thanks..

Element

A - Air

E - Fire

L - Earth

P - Water

D - Smoke

Theme Songs

A - Raise Your Glass, P!nk - Don’t Threaten Me With A Good Time, P!atD

E - Architects, Rise Against - Uprising, Muse - Feeling Sorry, Paramore

L - Conquest of Spaces, Woodkid

P - Laugh Till I Cry, The Front Bottoms - Stressed Out, Twenty One Pilots

D - Trapdoor, Twenty One Pilots - Be Nice To Me, The Front Bottoms - The Draw, Bastille

Little Quirks

A - Happy Dances, Winks, Hair Fluffs

E - Impatient finger tapping, “Cool Kid” posing, Blowing hair out of face

L - clasped hands, Adjusting glasses, straitening tie

P - deforest kelley bounce, hands nervously in pockets, always ready to rabbit

D - Tired face rub, eye roll, lip biting

Zodiac Sign/Planet (all from my full chart)

A - Aries Moon

E - Scorpio Mars

L - Libra Mercury

P - Sagittarius Jupiter

D - Pisces Saturn

Shadow Emotion

A - Loneliness

E - Sadness

L - Confusion

P - Fear

D - Anger

Alignment

A - Chaotic Neutral - fuck it this looks fun

E - Chaotic Good - I will burn this city to the ground to save a child

L - Lawful Good - do the right thing the Right way and you get the best results

P - Lawful Neutral - follow the rules and you won’t get hurt

D - Neutral Evil - I’m tired just kill yourself

Hogwarts House

A - Gryffindor

E - Slytherin / Gryffindor

L - Ravenclaw / Slytherin

P - Gryffindor

D - Hufflepuff

D&D Class

A - Sorcerer

E - Druid

L - Wizard

P - Ranger

D - Rogue

MBTI / my function stack

A - ESFP / Se

E - ENFP / Fi

L - ENTJ / Te

P - ISTP / inferior Ni

D - INFP - none, hes a disorder

God Tier

A - Maid of Breath

E - Knight of Space

L - Sylph of Mind

P - Mage of Rage

D - Page of Doom

High School Superlatives

A - Best Person to Travel With

E - Most Likely to Help Hide a Body

L - Most Likely to Succeed

P - Best Person to Get Stranded With

D - Worst Case of Senioritis

Vices/Virtues

A - Sex/Kindness

E - Rage/Courage

L - Overwork/Diligence

P - Alcohol/Vigilance

D - Drugs/Humility

When Stressed

A - loses all sense of direction and will jump onto the first suggestion someone makes to relieve the stress. Gets paranoid about appearance. Easily becomes overwhelmed/sensory overloaded and needs soft things, stim things, and fidgit toys to keep from becoming entirely incoherent.

E - Gets really impatient and short with people. If the stress escalates they will angry cry from frustration. Slams doors, yells unnecessarily.

L - Comes to a complete stop. They can’t complete a thought coherently and are easily confused. Prone to quitting from distress, coming to the conclusion that the most logical thing is to remove ones self from the stress while also stuck on the fact that it’s stressful because it’s too important to ignore. They basically experience blue screen of death by becoming a feedback loop of “oh no”.

P - The paranoia is in full bloom. they can get delusional and jumpy. Fears intensify. Outwardly, the only sign that somethings wrong is the occasional thousand yard stare or, contrastly, they get hyper vigilant. They’re just always ready.

D - Nap Time. If naps are not acquired they become crazy aggressive and verbally abusive. Every problem is a personal attack and it must be Gene’s fault. Craves death but will settle for a razor.

When They Like Someone

A - a smooth motherfucker. loves the seduction game. will wear lingerie under her clothes in case the opportunity arises to take it off ;)

E - Skittish. romance is the one emotional department they always fumble with. will compliment a lot and try to win them over, but takes a long time to act on anything for fear of misreading the other person’s intentions and making them uncomfortable.

L - Direct. knows the importance of presentation and is a good manipulator, so may implement their skills unintentionally. Really they just want the other person on the same page as them.

P - Suspicion. they normally aren’t attracted to someone unless the other person flirts first, and they are distrustful of others’ intentions. only once they feel safe with their crush will they act more directly and can actually be very charming.

D - Obsession and Despair. This person becomes their everything, which terrifies them, so they try and pull away to avoid getting hurt, and then get upset that the person isnt paying enough attention to them, and then the “im unlovable” spiral begins.

When Injured (with irl experiences oops)

A - powers through with force of will. will convince herself that its not a big deal. would probably try to finish a marathon with a broken leg. not stubborn if told to seek help, however, theyre just really bad at judging the severity/urgency of an injury. (went through their day without a care in the world after a head injury, legit didn’t think it was a big deal. the bump just looked nasty)

E - stubborn as a mule to keep up their badass image. will brush off most things even if they know its bad news. the only time the facade drops is when theyre alone, and then theyre a mess. (helped someone move despite the fact that they were seriously ill. hid it the whole time. collapsed when they got home)

L - reacts appropriately to the situation. has an objective enough knowledge of medicine and anatomy to assess the severity and urgency of an injury and will seek help if needed.

P - Panic. has a slight inclination to hypochondria that only comes out when something is wrong. stubbed tow? its broken. stomach ache? it could be cancer or their appendix is gonna burst. weird symptoms they dont recognize? absolutely positive theyre gonna die. if they cant see whats wrong the panic is worse. is actually not bad dealing with flesh wounds, but still wont hesitate in seeking care. (full blown panic attack when a uti started exhibiting unfamiliar symptoms and couldn’t receive immediate care)

D - secrecy. wont tell anyone. 10/10 most likely to silently stitch up a wound themselves and no one would be the wiser. (suffering silently through a migraine without medication, cleaning up self harm cuts)

Negative Influences

A - Reckless behavior, abandoning obligations in favour of a fun activity, drug use

E - Being argumentative, “anyone who doesnt agree with me is the enemy” knee jerk reaction, grudges

L - Obsessive behavior, hyper focus, over rationalizing feelings away

P - Irrational fears, distrust of others, exhausting hyper vigilance

D - Depression my dudes, self worth issues, self harm in all forms

Positive Influences

A - Trying new things, Courage, enjoying the simple pleasures

E - Passion, Moral compass, Determination

L - keeping my life structured, love of learning, the designer

P - self preservation, observing others’ personal boundaries, being prepared

D - ?????, keeps me from becoming too powerful,, ???????

When To Worry About Them

A - would rather stay home than go out, reclusive behavior

E - either theyre constantly fuming or they become painfully apathetic

L - none of their ideas make sense, language issues

P - always v stressed

D - smiley mask, overly compliant, overly positive

How They Chill

A - Nature Walks

E - Low Key hangouts with friends

L - Coloring books

P - Music - will often chill and listen to music with Daryl

D - Sleep - falls asleep while listening to music with Pandora

ill probly add onto this when i think of more stuff, but here for now

Self Care

A - Dressing up, cuz looking good for your own sake does wonders for emotional wellbeing

E - Talking to people, it’s not fair to you or your friends to shut them out, and the attention makes Adrienne happy

L - Hot Shower. As well as being good hygiene, hot showers improve circulation and relax muscles and the mind

P - cooking a whole meal for yourself, because you have a penchant for denying yourself food, and its a creative, mentally stimulating activity that gets you moving and is satisfying

D - He’d say sleep, but he always wants to sleep so its mostly detrimental. So he’s with Laura on hot showers, but like, in the dark. They’re good for if you’re upset, or nauseous, or tired, or have a migraine, or need a cry. Don’t gotta put much thought into it, if somethings wrong it can probably be fixed with a shower. Also the warmth is super nice, and a locked dark bathroom is basically the most secure place you have access to. AND you can use nice smelling soaps and stuff, so Addy is happy too. Showers are just default best.

Which Sanders Sides theyre most like

A - Patton

E - Roman

L - Logan

P - Anxiety

D - get fucked

As My Friends…

A - Kevin - big puppy dog, adventure/food/trouble friend

E - John - loud and proud and also my libra buddy

L - Owen - too smart jesus christ

P - Bri - anxiety ridden and prepared for everything

D - Jake - seriously hes the embodiment of depression anyway its horrifying

Physical Details

A - always wearing body glitter. nothing too Extra but just enough for a slight shimmer

E - has all the tattoos ive ever fantasized about. when i think up a new one it gets added to the collection. the buffest looking; when they work out they go for tone cuz they love the look

L - the only one who wears glasses. also wears a binder cuz theyre most comfortable flat-chested

P - carries any injuries i have at the time, including random bruises or cuts. actually the strongest even though they dont look it

D - has cuts all up their arms. they’re normally wrapped in bandages or hidden under hoodies. Deep under eye bags and the thinnest by far cuz they never heckin eat

Group Opinion

A - despite being the oldest everyone sees her as the little sister they need to protect. they love when shes happy and they all put in efforts to keep her out of too much trouble for the most part

E - they see them as a bit of an egomaniac, which isnt too far off. they are the judicial voice of the group, keeping everyone in line. those who deviate too far face their wrath.

L - the nerd. the others actually try to dismiss them a lot, since a lot of times they end up holding the group back. wildly unappreciated even though theyre normally right and helpful

P - doesn’t normally pop into group discussions, and is more of a casual observer, only participating when necessary. the others appreciate this about them, because for real if they contributed all the time id be a lot more stressed out

D - the villain. everyone always attacks everything they say (with good reason). despite this they still somehow end up winning a pretty good amount of decisions, cuz they are disgustingly good at twisting words and appealing to what at least one of the others wants. no one trusts them

#the gene pool #my sides #not ss tag #i dunno #more details

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