#this series is rewriting my brain and i'm letting it! SICK!

[generalflopsy]

what do you MEAN she just remembered her dead lesbian situationship - who she literally got a lobotomy to forget - through a coffee shop au?! what do you MEAN

[bloodwrittenletters]

YOU'LL BE THE LOVE OF MY LIFE

pairing . . . percy jackson x mortal!fem!reader

the cassette playing . . . birds of a feather! billie eilish

the letter reads . . . roman or greek, mortal or demigod, you and percy jackson were supposed to meet in every lifetime.

warnings . . . angst ( like a lot of it ), slight nsfw ( making out ), survivor's guilt, mentions of ptsd ( post-traumatic stress disorder), cursing, comedic relief.

a/n . . . can you tell I sobbed my way through this? can you also tell how much I love romance? can you also tell how much i love percy jackson and i took the opportunity of showing it? UGH. anyways!! :pp I hope you all like this and let me know if I should do another part of falling into tartarus ( or if I should make this a little series ), or if I should just leave it at a happy ending ^.^ AND I'M SOOOOORRRY THIS WAS DELAYED, SOME THINGS GOT DELETED AND HAD TO REWRITE A LITTLE 😭😭😭 alsooo this isn't very accurate because i haven't read the hoo recently, so apologies and fyi!!! love you all and i hope you enjoy

( thank you to all who waited, and also very much to these people!!! @itzmeme @aliteralhooman @bes2005 @miffysoo @littlecarrot06 )

a continuation of this and second part of this . . .

the truth was that you wanted to cry. but percy needed you, he had called you, he had told you not to cry, and that he loved you. how could you ever break down when your missing boyfriend needed you?

you called annabeth, you told her, you broke down demanding answers to questions your braind suddenly decided to flip on after bating your pretty little eyes away from the insecurity the possibility of percy lying to you; because he always was. percy jackson had too many secrets, so deep in his sould it's like he grew up in a field of thorned roses, and after months of stress and fear you took some scissors and dove head first into the mess that the fucking gods ( yes, there are gods in this plot twist ) had thrown your lovely boyfriend to.

it came down to you, it all made sense. annabeth tried to talk you through it, explain everything and anything that might seem important from her view for you to know, but your brain was too far gone.

percy was borned doomed.

oh, and he was half god, too.

in your brain, every stutter, every night of him waking up in a cold sweat, every dodge of questioning his camp, everything made sense. the scars, the fear in his eyes you used to find before he dissapeared. or even the way you could feel him shake when you kissed him.

your precious boyfriend lived in a world of fantasies you used to read about, he was a demigod! annabeth was a demigod! grover was a satyr!

everything made sense and none at all in the same moment. in a snap of a second you were studying the messy family tree percy had on his dad's side. all meanwhile annabeth worked herself off along with other fellow demigods to craft a warship to travel to fucking california because sadly you couldn't book a flight and go get percy. you had to do it the divine way, you had to sit and watch sally jackson be worried sick, you had to sit and wait as annabeth masterminded her plain, and while all that sitting, you studied!

here's a run of fun facts:

percy's uncle, zeus, left the mother of his namesake, danae, pregnant through a golden rain. percy's cousin and annabeth's mother, athena, made way for herself to be born through zeus skull, after the king of the gods swallowed her mother. kronos swallowed his—

you got the point.

you read every single book about greek and roman mythology you could get your hans on, you memorized names and places and stories and retellings and every single thing that could be helpful. you didn't have the talents to build a war ship...

or much of anything in comparison to all the half-bloods, but you could memorize all and every bit of the gods if it meant you would help percy.

he was your best friend, the one who during the school year would ask his mom for chocolates in case you had cramps during your period, the one who would get in detention constantly to defend you, the one who would sneak out of class to walk you to the next one.

even if he was away, percy always was the safest place you could run to.

and when he turned to your boyfriend, it was like everything was right. kissing him was right, his hand soothing your back when a sad movie hit home was right, percy's face smeared with lipstick was right.

so, when it was his voice calling your name for help, how could you ever not answer?

you and annabeth fought every step of the way. in other circumstances, you knew in your heart she could be your dearest friend, but right now it was playing it nice with her or getting to percy sooner.

and percy won. every single time. there was no other option, it was just percy.

'you can't come with us.' 'i'm going.' 'i said no.' 'i don't care.' 'we have no space for you.' 'i'll sleep on the damn floor if i have to, i'm getting on that ship.' 'you're a mortal.' 'i'll take a knife.' 'that's not enough to keep your safe, this is crazy, you have-' 'i'm going.' 'percy is gonna kill me.'

every day, the two of you found something new to argue over. but, in the end, she took you under her wing and let you come.

something that you couldn't stop thanking her for, whole heartdely, you believed she would throw you over board.

of course, this wasn't for free. you had to learn how to use every weapon on that ship, and have a basic understandament of self defense... and a fire extintor on you in case leo ( another half-blood, one you had learned to befriend ) burst into flames and couldn't turn off.

yeah, you would never be bored with them.

every single moment that you had spent away from him came down on you like an avalanche when you arrived to new rome. there was too much going on, a) the argo ii wasn't allowed on sacred grounds, b) no mortals allowed. and it wasn't like you could change your past and make one of your parents hook up with some god so you were allowed into the grounds of new jupiter.

"terminus," you hissed, feeling panic crawl out of your gut and settle in your throat. "i understand your rules, i understand you're not supposed to let me in your stupid—"

"sacred!" jason butted in, nodding along, trying to calm the waters.

"grounds," you continued like there was no interrumption. because this felt stupid, a boy who belonged in the comfortness of your heart was in there, it was stupid you weren't allowed to go back to him. "someone in there called me, alright? i need to see him."

"no," the god shaked his head, and you almost lanched yourself at him to hurt him in any way you could. jason stopped you. and very deep within you, you knew it was the best desicion.

you turned to annabeth, letting jason and piper try to find some allowance for you. tears pooled in your eyes and annabeth gave you the most broken glance, before focusing on finding you a solution.

the daughter of athena knew well just how head over heels percy was. she wasn't there to witness the whole thing, but she remembered long conversations between herself and her best friend where he couldn't shut up about how pretty your eyes were, or how sometimes two strands of your hair would curl into a heart.

annabeth knew you were important, and she also knew that percy needed to see you as soon as possible before the world met the wrath of a loving boyfriend without his sweet angel near him.

grover probably was going insane with rage and longing back at camp half-blood.

"there must be a way."

"there isn't."

piper sighed, glancing back at you and then focusing on her task. charm speak wasn't working on this guy, maybe a breath taking love story would.

"listen, that girl there in the brink of a break down? her boyfriend has been missing for months, he just dissapeared, and she called her to come get him. his name is percy jackson, and we just need you to let them meet again," piper sighed. she had to twist this more. more drama, more love, more tears. she had to sell this cinema worthy love story to terminus.

"have you ever been in love?"

"pipes—"

"oh, no, right, yeah. so," she hurried to explain, befor terminus took that as an offense and kicked them out completly. "what i mean is that, they're in love! a love so deep that even after months of silence, the called her, knowing that she was the one person he could trust to find him— even after he knew she would find out he lied! she didn't care, she's here, just trying to get through you, she won't do any harm, she just wants to see her boyfriend again."

"it's not going to work on me, daugther of venus."

piper threw her arms into the air, huffing in frustration and taking a step back, murmuring to leo: "do you think we can sneak her in?"

leo frowned, looked back at annabeth and you, seeing you hysterical, rambling about old myths and how unfair this was, and then looked back at piper.

"i don't think we have that choice."

as jason tried his best to find a deal with terminus, percy was deep into camp's grounds, looking away to the war ship at the borders of camp jupiter.

she's here, he thought. she's here, she found her way here, but why is she not coming down here?

by the tick of the second, percy grew more and more impatient. his skin started to act agaisnt himself, an unbereable itch starting in the nape of his neck and coming down his spine. the air started to feel thicker around him, groaning and huffing to himself, ignoring completly the looks hazel, frank and reyna were giving him.

"sit down, percy," reyna suggested.

percy stopped, looked at her, and kept pancing around. it's not that he didn't want to listen to her, more like there was something on his brain that didn't allow him to stop. there was nothing he could to stop himself. he gripped his forearm, nails biting into the tattoo he now had, trying to scratch it off as if that would make you appear in front of his eyes.

he tried. once, twice. hazel scolded at him and he stopped trying, it wasn't working.

"reyna," percy said, and when the ocean green met the dark onyx there was no denying that the desperation would push percy into a very, very bad spot. "they won't let her come down here, will they? she's a mortal so she can't—"

"no, percy, i'm sorry."

percy looked at the sky, and there were string of curses in greek coming from his lips.

"there has to be some way, please, reyna. i can't stand it."

frank looked at reyna like he wanted to help percy plead his case.

hazel pointed at something, and in a moment, percy was nowhere in sight in any of the three.

you sneaked in, somehow, some way. maybe aphrodite ( or venus, at this point ) had taken mercy upon you. she had looked at the situation and just pull the right strings to get you running right into percy's arms.

where the greek crew of argo ii still tried to come up with some solution, you were running with all your force towards the love of your life. your boy. your love.

it didn't matter on what life time, or how, when, why. you and percy met, every single one of them where your sould would meet his and tangle in a way that no matter what twist and ties were cut, nothing could do the two of you apart. hera tried, and she did really hard, but little did you know that percy never forgot you.

in his mind there was no memory of who he was, what his name was. nothing, absolutely blank, there was nothing in there but your name, the pink of your lips, the way your hands felt around his. all of those memories of you balmed up with the lipstick stains he knew you would leave all around his skin.

and he knew that he didn't mind it, he loved it. he would get them tattoed on his skin if they weren't already so in his heart.

your arm stretched out, and your boyfriend grabbed your hand. there were shouting behind you, and when gasps filled the background, percy and you were kissing.

it was slow, there were tears, his hands trailed up and trailed down, his forehead resting agaisnt yours as his hands gently mapped your skin, memorizing it again, looking if there were changes, hoping that it was warm under his finger tips as it always was.

you felt even better than his memories.

"h-hi, angel," he sobbed, attempting to kiss your tears away, but there was too many, maybe because some of his mixed with yours, melting together in the same kissing scene as the two of you were doing right now.

percy had grown taller, your tippy toes weren't enough to meet his lips. his hair was longer and some strands looked like gold under the sunlught, he smeled like the ocean--- and when you breathed agaisnt his lips and felt the relaxing, familiar scent you sobbed all over again., his lips were softer ( maybe for being untouched for so long ), and his eyes were the same. the same ones you so much loved, just more wet now.

you sniffled, and cupped his cheeks before kissing him again. this was more impatient, there were more sighs and huffs from the both of you, and percy sneaked one of his arms around your waist and set his hand politely on your hip, before slowly taking up the weight.

you were basacally flying, and all in his arms. you let out a happy sob.

"hi, baby."

you rested your forehead agaisnt his, noses pressed softly agaisnt each other's. every breath you let out, he took in, his lungs tainting of glitter and butterflies. every breath percy let out, you took in, and your smile widened when your lungs filled with relaxation and love.

"i love you," percy promised. "every piece of me— loves you."

"i love you, too," you kissed the corner of his mouth gently, before returning to your original spot. "i don't think my heart is inside my chest anymore."

percy frowned. "you're going to be sweet, aren't you?"

a smirk crept into your lips, once that you had seen percy wear before, right when he said something snarky and stole a little peck from you.

"i think my heart is in here," you tapped your fingers over his chest, beneath the obvious banging of percy's heart. "hugging yours, kissing yours."

percy kissed you before you got the chance to steal his lips away.

"love you," you both whispered into the other's mouth, before percy slowly eased you back to your feet, but never backing away more than a couple inches, his eyes clear on yours, full of love, and a smile that created three dimples. two on his right cheek, and a tiny one in his chin.

"angel?"

"hmm?"

"i think we just made out in front of a lot soldiers."

"... and i think i sneaked in."

percy laughed, ignoring the glances. he felt them now, but he was too busy to care. "you think?"

"i'm innocent, your honour, i just wanted my boyfriend."

percy pressed three quick kisses to your lips. before a yell of his name threw him off of cloud nine. annabeth chase... she was gonna kill him.

"that can't be good."

you kissed all around his face, not minding one bit what was happening around you. it was your right to do this, if anyone had an issue with you kissing percy, they could go fuck themselves.

"i love you, my lovely boy."

[featguler]

PROLOGUE : I WON'T BE ALONE ( FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE )

jude and a couple of his academy mates decide to try the korean chicken place down his dorm's block, famous for its cheese tteokbokki and infamous for its grumpy chef. he meets a girl and shoots the first shot he does not miss that day.

prologue of ' call my bluff '

⌗ pairing : jude bellingham x female original character ⌗ wordcount : 5,743 ⌗ notes : the prologue of this brand new series!! i am so excited. also i said this in the masterlist of this series, but please don't take anything said in this fic is facts... i don't know if jude ever lived in a dorm, and i don't care enough to find out. i've also never been to birmi so... ignore all geographical matters pls. no one in this chapter is real except for jude if you would like to be added to the taglist, please do let me know! surprise surprise, this chapter was actually proofread by my friends, shin (@ludiceousml) and arya (@amigara-vault). love u guys ♡ masterlist.

mini playlist ! 𐙚 forever noah kahan : i'm glad i get forever to see where you end 𐙚 speak too soon wild rivers : i saw you when my sight was sore 𐙚 buzz niki : phone toss when it's risky and you hit send 𐙚 first day of my life bright eyes : i think i was blind before i met you 𐙚 decimal novo amor : i could be alright if you could rewrite my life

The second month of life at Birmingham City is strange. Strange, as in, it feels like floating in space. Strange, as in, it feels like something in between, like limbo. Strange, as in, Jude has not felt yet like he is where he belongs. Strange, as in, he misses Jobe the way he misses his parents the way he misses that old stain on his family sofa from when Jobe spilled boiled corn after tripping on his untied laces.

The academy is an academy, and he’ll be damned if he had not expected the dorm to be just like a dorm. But he thinks that he has widely miscalculated how concerned the people are over football here. Jude did not start out with a burning passion for football fresh out of the womb, after all, he always preferred picking flowers to bundle for his mother.

“I think I’m homesick,” he told Denise just earlier that week in a quiet call on the dorm’s emergency fire exit. “I miss Jobe so much.”

Who's to say that best friends cannot wrestle until the other bumps their leg hard enough on the edge of a coffee table to bruise? While Jude would occasionally have Jobe’s foot on his face to distract him from scoring the penalty in FIFA, they are definitely best friends. And he missed his best friend.

Denise only laughed when she heard the confession, and he felt the ghost of her fingers rubbing the back of his neck. “Homesick, or Jobesick?”

And that made Jude laugh too, because he never really considered homesick as a word containing two separate words. Never home, never sick. Just homesick. So when his mother replaced the vocal point of longing with the name of his brother, he almost faltered. A sentiment so widespread was suddenly customised to fit him.

“Yeah. Guess I’m Jobesick.”

Zakariya was sprawled across the floor of his dorm room when he suddenly began moaning about how sick he was of protein shakes and eggs for breakfast, craving the cheesebokki from that restaurant down the street. Jude wasn’t aware that he had the brain capacity to talk about anything other than Ronaldinho or his hot, older girlfriend, but there he was, practically drooling like a dog at the thought of a Korean cheat meal amongst the vegetables that they shove down your throat in the academy.

Jude’s encyclopaedia of Korean food ends with hot chicken wings, so he propped his head over a pillow, shifting to the edge of his bed to catch Zakariya’s attention.

“Cheesebokki?” He repeated, the word tasted foreign in his mouth. “Sounds good,” it didn’t sound like anything, “let’s go this sunday. After the practice match.”

“It’s spicy,” Zakariya warned, and Jude shrugged. He can handle spicy. Not any less than Zakariya, that is for sure. “Sure, man. If you think you can handle it. I’ll ask Ethan and Teddy if they wanna come along. Jamal, you should come too.”

Jude considered immediately backing off when he heard the names Zakariya brought up. He likes Zakariya. But he can’t say the same about Ethan, and Teddy, he is amicable with. Jamal, the only one he could already call a friend, couldn’t go. After matches, Sundays are reserved for church and his mother; they are about the same thing to Jamal anyway.

Jude called his mum to ask for her opinion—he’s similar to Jamal in this way—and she encouraged him to go.

“Maybe you’ll find that you and Ethan have much more in common than you initially thought.”

He doubted it. Denise was only saying that because she likes Alicia Ewart, Ethan’s mother. Ethan thinks he is too good for the academy, and Jude thinks he’s full of shit.

But he ended up going. He knows that a mother’s blessing eases the path. His mother’s especially.

No one in this world calls Olivia by her Korean name.

Haewon, to her, is simply not an interesting enough word.

She is not saying that she is anything more than ordinary, or even just an inch off of being riveting, but there are two people in just her family with her exact name: her great-aunt and a distant cousin. And despite most of Birmingham not having a clue on who those other Haewon’s are, they are, no less, two extra Haewon’s in her life.

And as a matter of fact, she was named after her great-aunt deliberately, like she is not allowed her own identity. To add icing on the cake, her Haewon translates roughly to sailor or seaman, or something like that; a name that grants nothing but strenuous expectations for her. Her great-aunt’s Haewon, however, translates to beautiful ocean.

Beautiful-Ocean-Haewon was Olivia’s grandmother’s younger sister.

Her grandmother died three months before her father turned four years old, and her grandfather before her father was even born. Yujae Jang was taken in by his aunt effective immediately. He thinks that she was so great (Olivia wouldn’t have a way of knowing as she died before she was even born). He thinks that she was what a mother is supposed to epitomise: unconditional love in a condition where condition is consequential.

But for someone who looks up to mother figures so much, Yujae sure finds it difficult to spare his own wife, the mother of his children, a cordial glance. And a man who does not respect his wife naturally despises his daughter.

He doesn’t have to say it. Olivia knows. It’s her chief theory in navigating her path; the lighthouse guiding her worn down seaboat. From the moment he named her sailor, she knew.

And she doesn’t like to admit it, but though her fragility stands on its toes, balancing on a tipping vase, what she feels, what she thinks, do not matter as much as she would like to believe. Being delicate is something she has long outgrown. It does not interest her anymore. Being frail brings nothing but heartache, and while her heart is not desensitised to stabwounds, she relishes in the fact that a straight face will save herself some embarrassment.

So, she embraces the ocean and sets sail as a seaman.

Names are meant to be prayers after all; some kind of prophecies that name-holders are cursed to fulfil. Her theory states that her father’s disappointment peaked the day she was born, and the little optimism he had gifted him a son three years later.

And this is a lot of thinking for a secondary school student, sure, but thinking crooked is something that Olivia does most days her father decides to scream at her for something trivial. She has gone from wishing him harm in her mind to taking part in the devout practice of self-pity. No one is going to calm her cries and rub her back. Not her mother, not her brother, and definitely not her father. She has got to do it herself.

Now, Philip, twelve years old, is wiping tabletops. And Olivia, fifteen years old, is trembling as she scribbles on some scratch papers, finishing her mathematics homework so that she can spend the rest of the night sobbing against her pillow.

“Welcome to Jang’s Chicken, how are you lot?”

The little bell above the heavy mahogany door  just a few feet away from the cashier counter jingles; her nose is still tainted red and her cheeks are still surrendering to the tears streaming from her eyes.

The restaurant had been so quiet just a few moments ago, and the only sound you could hear was the choir of angry utensils cling-clang-ing against one another as Yujae washes the plate. Her mother is coating raw chicken with egg yolk and flour on one corner table, quiet as she has always been. Philip is cleaning the tables, then spraying some cleaning chemical only to wipe the same spot over and over. A piece of thread could cut through the silence.

But instead of a thread, it is broken by a horde of rowdy boys. Their windbreaker is familiar: a football academy from a couple of blocks away from the restaurant. They are bustling and filled with haste, looking at everything but her, scrutinising the humble decoration of Korean calligraphy all over the creaking walls of the family restaurant.

Olivia can see the spot where her shoes were laid just as she got home from tutoring that day, where she took them off in a hurry to rush to the loo, only for her father to yell at her when she forgot to place them in the cabinet next to the entrance. Then here comes these boys—customers—with their stupid cleats still attached to each of their feet, dirtying up the freshly swept floor, not having a clue what monstrosity their action would lead to if they were Olivia.

She huffs, wiping a dripping snot with the base of her palm.

Fathers can be so evil, she thinks, but her father especially.

The Birmingham F.C. Academy students have been regulars in Jang’s Chicken since as long as Olivia could remember. A group of students from a different year, just a few days ago, had visited the restaurant. Since she started working as a cashier three years ago, they have been coming in. Since before she was even born, they have been coming in. Olivia is not fazed with football; she is not fazed with boys who play football.

She gathers her hair, tying them in a low ponytail before pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

“We’re good, how are you?”

The one that looks oldest—or tallest, at least—greets before stepping forward. He grabs one of the oily, limp laminated menus from the tabletop, holding them in a way that is visible to the rest of the crowd. Olivia smiles weakly and decides to not answer the small talk.

“We should get the party box.”

Olivia rubs her nose as she hides a sniffle. “That's 16 pieces of chicken,” she uses her finger to point at a menu on the table. “You can choose up to three flavours for the party box.”

She doesn’t know if she’s gotten good at hiding the nasal in her voice, or if they were nice enough to not point out how red her eyes are. By the way the leader of the bunch glances down at her as quick as he looks away, she guesses that it’s the latter.

From the corner of her eyes, she sees Lip taking a seat next to their mother. She shoots him a look and he sends her a shrug in return.

A boy peeks over the first boy’s shoulder. “What's soju?”

“That's booze,” another one slaps the back of his head lightly as Olivia focuses her attention back to them.

“We don't sell alcohol to underage customers,” she hurries in as well, and the boys nod.

“Obviously.” Murmurs of agreement rustles.

”I want the cheesebokki” — a cute way their restaurant had shortened ‘cheese tteokbokki’ — “and a can o’ Coke.”

A scoff escapes their leader. “Last time you got that, you shitted yourself for a week, didntcha, mate?”

Collective groans emit from the group and Olivia scrunches her nose.

”Not in front of the lady, E,” the cheesebokki enjoyer turns red. “Besides! It’s good,” his hand smacks the chest of a boy closest to him, “and Judey here says he’ll share with me.”

Olivia only smiles, just to be polite, and to hold back a sigh.

Jude has been watching the cashier girl from the back of the group.

The whole walk to Jang’s Chicken, he has been out of it. Nobody has mentioned it, so he thinks that maybe nobody noticed the way he shuffles quietly behind the other three, hands nuzzled deep in his outer. He pretends his huffs were for the cold and kicks invisible rocks to distract his own mind.

He made four chances at scoring just earlier, but none of them made it past the goalpost. And Jude is young enough to want to blame it on anyone else but him, but he is also mature enough to understand that it was nobody else’s fault but his own. The goalkeeper was always distracted, and there were no defenders trying to tackle the ball out of his feet. It was his muddled mind, he thinks, that the ball kept flying over the post.

He has been out of it, and the one to pull him out of being out of it is that cashier girl.

Nasally voice, weakly greeting them. It's her glasses that he notices first. They are big—definitely too big for her tiny face—with red frames taped up in the middle and on the sides. His eyes then travel to the bridge of her nose, and wouldn't you know it, the tip of her nose is tainted the same shade of scarlet.

He wonders why he finds it endearing: the way she holds back sniffles, the way she points out to the menu in exhalation. The more he examines her face, the more he sees her damp cheeks, her lips parting to make way for her breath, and the more is he drawn in. Strands of her hair keep falling even after she tugs them behind her ears, monotonically responding to his friend’s inquiries.

The back of Zakariya’s hand meets Jude chest, and he is taken out of his reverie, humming in agreement at whatever he had said.

“Guess we’ll do the party box, then?”

“Sure,” Jude’s murmurs blend in with the rest. He’s got no energy to go against Ethan. He’s there for the cheesebokki, anyway, and a chance of creating bountiful friendship with boys who are neither Jobe nor Jamal. Not chicken wings.

“‘lright then, the party box, one cheesebokki, and four can ‘o coke.”

She nods and pushes some buttons on the cashier, a loud and ancient machine that looks like someone’s prized possession that they would proudly reveal is older than him. For a moment, his gaze wanders to the fading football stickers—Ronaldo, Spurs, Real Madrid, Benzema, Marcelo—placed arbitrarily all over its body before going back to her.

“Which sauces would you like to go with?”

Honey mustard dip, sweet and sour sauce, and fire buffalo sauce.

Olivia cannot think of a combination more basic.

Teddy whips out his mother’s credit card in an instance, briefly telling the group to ping him their share of the money, and Zakariya complains about how he only has cash. Jude barely registers their banter.

They sit just far enough away from the lady and the boy dipping raw chicken to flour so that they wouldn’t hear their conversations, but close enough for the aroma of freshly fried chicken to wander out of the kitchen window and spike up his nose. He slides a chair out, a barrel of some sort with a wooden back nailed on to it.

Teddy takes the seat beside him. “You’ve been distracted, Judey.”

“I have,” as he sits, Jude looks back at the cashier. The girl is now at the counter, furiously holding back her bangs as she grips her pencil harder. “Think I should ask for her number?”

Teddy shrugs after a small laugh. Jude turns to him with an eyebrow raised. “Well, do whatever you want, but her dad’s a bit…”

“Evil,” Ethan interjects.

Zakariya scoffs. “‘Evil’s a bit of a big word ain’t it, E?”

Ethan grabs a pair of chopsticks Jude knows damn well he is not going to use, and fiddles with it, contending it against each other. “Well, he’s grumpy, that’s for sure.”

“My dad can be grumpy,” Jude insists, like he needs any of their permission. “Reckon her dad won't mind a nice young man like me asking for ‘er number.”

“Nice young man,” Ethan repeats, a little too mockingly to Jude’s liking. 

“Well, I am a nice young man.”

“You’re a young man, that’s what you are,” Zakariya laughs, piling on Ethan’s mockery and they bump shoulders in mischief cackles. Jude shoots them a glare.

“You know what? I say do it,” Teddy grazes his knee against Jude’s. Jude looks at him funny. “Just do it, bruv, take the shot. Ethan’s just bitter ‘cuz he tried talking to her too.”

“Yeah?” At the short smirk on Teddy’s lips, curiosity creeps up Jude’s nerves, eyeing Ethan across from him. Teddy had just officially graduated from being on his amicable list to his like list. “So you got her number?”

“Ha,” a cynical snicker leaves Ethan’s lips. “Obviously not. Her dad got between us.”

“Evil,” Jude repeats, and the rest of the boys nod.

“Evil.”

Mr. Paisley, Olivia’s homeroom, insists that there is no absolute truth in the world except the truths that are backed with numbers. He’s a mathematics teacher, so it makes sense. And to Olivia, one plus one is, definitely, equal to two. But the absolute truth does not interest her, now, does it? Truths, not-truths. None of these really matters in the long run. What matters is how she is going to mend relationships she would not want to mend; whether she will grow up to be more her mother or more her father.

The scrap papers she is scribbling maths equations on was picked up from the large trash bin behind the church her parents go to. She doesn’t go, she is not interested, but her mother would occasionally come home to gift her and Philip excess church brochures that they can use to count, or write, on.

It’s the little ways that they save money. The anxiety that comes with having none was brought down to the children, even when they were born after the years where money had been a problem. That’s just how her family is: rigid, stiff, stationary. It’s the same way she is gripping on her pencil, with the tip of her fingers beginning to hurt, her nail beds turning red against her skin, pale for not having eaten anything aside from three slices of canned peach since breakfast.

“Hey.”

But just like that, her endless stream of self-loathing, maths-loathing, church-brochures-loathing, and Mr. Paisley-loathing thoughts are over.

Olivia slants her eyes as she tries to gain a better look at the boy calling out to her behind her foggy glasses. He is a part of the academy group—the logo, she knows, and that there are no other customers in the restaurant aside from them.

“I’ll have another side,” he offers her a short grin, taking one hand from the pocket of his windbreaker to pick up the menu, “the nuggets.”

She clears her throat against her fist, nodding her head as she stands. “A moment please,” Olivia steps sideways to the cashier, already forgetting what he looks like. She pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose again. “Nuggets, you can get the sweet and sour sauce with it, or the barbeque for an extra Pound and a half.”

“A pound and a half?”

“Yeah.”

He lets out a chuckle. “I’ll just do the sweet and sour sauce. It’s better anyway, yeah?”

“I like it better,” Olivia entertains the banter with a light laugh, rubbing the tip of her nose. There is a deep silence between them just for a second. “That’ll be seven and a half, please.”

“You’re crying.”

Olivia’s head snaps up.

She sees him in great clarity this time. He didn’t speak much if at all when his crowd were ordering, and she had not cared enough to examine the boy who had paid for their food, moreover some shorter lad on the back of the group. But there he stands before her, voice light yet thick—though no thicker than her brother’s brummie as she notes.

“Pardon me?”

The situation is so jarring that Olivia cannot help but be offended, even when she knows that she has been crying—is crying, even. She sniffles and feels another tear roll down her cheek.

“Nevermind,” he shakes his head. She watches the way his nose scrunches when he notices the offence in her tone, and he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a phone with a battered case. “Can I have your number?”

“What?”

The busy-bee movements from the rest of the restaurant halt. From the corner of her room, she can see the group of boys holding their breaths, her brother doing the same thing too, and her mother staring daggers at her.

“Your phone number.”

“Like,” —

She hesitates, this time fully glancing to the kitchen window only to see her dad slanting his eyes, shooting glares at either her or at the Birmingham Academy boy, she cannot tell.

— “to order food from us?”

He shakes his head. “Like, to text you. If you wanna.”

“But… do you still want the nuggets?”

He laughs and places his phone on the counter, fishing for a wallet from a patch in his windbreaker. He places ten quid next to his phone. “Sure. Let’s get that number sorted out first, though.”

She grabs his phone, and a victorious smile appears on Jude’s face. His stupid plan—”plan”, loosely translating to: just going for the shot—works, and now he has a pretty girl typing her number into his phone.

His eyes dart to the multiple worksheets and eraser dust scattered next to the rugged down cashier, trying to ignore the growing commotion from the lads. “What are you working on?”

The girl huffs a bitter chuckle, her swollen eyes glancing up at him under her bangs for a moment. “Mathematics. Are you any good at it?”

He shakes his head. “The only thing I’m good at is football, Miss.”

She raises an eyebrow, a curious zest sparkling her eyes. “You're a football player?”

“Not yet, not officially,” Jude shrugs. He points to his academy logo on the chest of his windbreaker. “Birmingham F.C.”

“Birmingham academy?”

“Yup,” he nods. “One and only.”

She chuckles again, though he recognizes the lack of bitterness this time. “Y’must be pretty good then, huh?”

“I try my best.”

The muscles in her cheeks are begging for her to smile, but she knows that her father is watching, and she cannot show humiliating emotions before him, not after a bad fight. The tears were bad enough already. She is not going to let the giddy feeling when a boy flirts with her show on her face.

Bitterness bites even harder when she feels, hears, and notices Yujae shuffling closer to her. Olivia hopes she didn’t mess up her number, and returns the phone to the counter without even filling in her name, afraid that her father would grab it and toss it across the room. Or something dramatic like that.

“Haewon.”

She sighs. No one on this Earth calls Olivia by her Korean name. No one but her father. What is it with him and ruining every single thing she has going on in her life?

“Don’t chat with the customers?” He says—in Korean, Olivia guesses to intimidate the boy—though the tone of his voice makes it seem like he is more confused than anything else, and she wants to laugh; she can’t help but share the confusion. It really is not like her to talk to a boy, it’s not like her to talk to a boy who is a stranger, and it definitely is not like her to give out her number to a boy who is a stranger.

“I wasn’t chatting,” she knows that trying to defend herself will not result in the most ideal outcome in the taut stalemate, but the pettiness that runs in Yujae’s blood also lives in hers, so she does it anyway. “He was ordering some side dishes.”

“Is that it?”

She tries not paying attention to the boy as much this time, and punches the button on the cashiering system. She takes the tenner from the counter and places it in the cash drawer.

“What?” Her father hovers next to her when she doesn’t answer. “He asked for your number, didn’t he?”

“He did,” Olivia says, keeping her tone flat.

“And you gave it to him?”

“I did,” she frowns this time, glancing up at her father. “Why?”

“Why did you give him your number?”

“Why not?”

Yujae peers deep into her, like trying to gauge her weak spot, anything that would offer him some kind of reclamation over the disrespect she sends his way. He ends the eye contact with a scoff.

“You won’t get far in life with that mouth and that attitude.”

Olivia rolls her eyes and focuses back on the cashier, letting it print out the receipts after slamming close the cash drawer.

“I’m not trying to get anywhere far in life,” she mumbles, just as he walks away. Finally, she looks back at the boy, going back to English. “Here’s your change and receipt. Thanks.”

“Thanks,” Jude grabs his change and looks at the direction of the grumpy chef—Ethan is right. He does seem evil. He looks back at the girl, “I’ll text you tonight.”

She scoffs, and it looks like she is going to cry more now, but is trying hard to act nonchalant. “I’ll talk to you, then.”

He smiles, and is somewhat not bothered that she doesn’t return it. “I’ll talk to you later.”

Unknown Number: Hello?

Olivia’s face scrunches as she lay on her bed, before breaking into a smile.

The thinning mattress under her sinks in the middle. It had always been that way, and it’s generally more comfortable for her to lay on the edge of the bed. It’s closer to where her phone charger is too. And yet, though she can name a hundred reasons why the rundown house her family and her previously lived in was better than living on top of the restaurant, this—having her own, albeit very small, bedroom and not having to share with Philip—is definitely one of the good things about moving.

Me: hello?

Olivia used to take the top bunk while Philip, sleep tosser, brought earthquakes to her vocabulary.

Unknown Number: I’m the one who asked for your number earlier on today Unknown Number: Remember me?

She giggles to the back of her hand. Now, she doesn’t have to worry about suppressing laughter. There is no brother under her to judge her.

Me: yeah Me: birmingham academy? Unknown Number: That’s right Unknown Number: My name’s Jude by the way Unknown Number: Sorry for not introducing myself earlier Me: it’s calm Me: my name’s olivia Me: it’s nice to meet you, jude!! Unknown Number: It’s nice to meet you too! Unknown Number: Olivia is a pretty name

Rolling her eyes, she huffs through her smile, turning so that she is laying on her stomach, her chin propped on a pillow.

Me: i’ve been told Me: olivia jang Me: like the restaurant Unknown Number: So your father is Mister Jang? Me: more or less Me: he’s a bit scary Me: sorry for earlier Unknown Number: I’m Jude Bellingham Unknown Number: It’s fine Unknown Number: My dad’s a sergeant so I get it Unknown Number: I didn’t land you in trouble though did I? Me: ohh sergeant Me: your dad’s Sergeant Bellingham then Me: no it’s fine Jude Bellingham: More or less Jude Bellingham: Alright, good then

She breathes, going to type a random, stupid question to keep the small talk up but stops when she notices that he is typing. Only for him to stop as well. Bleh.

Me: sorry what were you typing? Me: i stopped typing cuz i saw you were typing Me: sorry Jude Bellingham: Wait yeah I did the same Jude Bellingham: Just wanted to ask which school you go to Jude Bellingham: Small talk, yknow?

She chuckles.

Me: i go to colebourne Me: stechford Jude Bellingham: Stechford is a bit of a walk from King’s Norton isn’t it? Me: well it isn’t like i walk 10 miles a day Jude Bellingham: Still, no? Me: used to live there, but my mum and dad decided to move to be nearer to the restaurant Me: now we live ON the restaurant Me: hahaha

She wonders if she talks too much.

She doesn’t usually speak to boys this way, no—so fluently, so unabashed. While she is open to befriending anyone and everyone, she just can’t find it within herself to open up to the opposite gender. Even with girls, she feels like she wouldn’t tell the history of her residency to someone she just met.

Jude, though, feels different.

It’s how they met, there is no doubt. Just a few hours ago she was made aware of his existence, and whether she wanted to or not, she was sobbing before him, all sniffly with her runny nose. And on top of that, her father had come to scold her. Jude had seen her struggle with school work, seen her cry, and seen her speak in a language she could not call mother tongue. All on the same day. All in the same five minutes.

Even to her girl friends, she had never conveyed such vulnerability. The peeling of her emotions are reserved for her father’s disowning gaze, her mother and brother’s ignorance, and the heedless minds of the restaurant’s patrons. Jude just became the first one to take a shot at cracking her open.

Jude Bellingham: Oh wow Jude Bellingham: Doesn’t it get tiring? Jude Bellingham: The commuting

She smiles, seeing the text, tossing from one side of her bed to the other.

Me: a bit but Me: just a few years left then i’ll be off to uni Me: then i’ll be commuting to uni instead haha

Jesus. That’s like—what?—the fourth time she’s sent three text bubbles in a row. She bites her lips and tries to justify her own excitement: well, it isn’t like he is economical with his replies either, though his syntax hints at being a bit rigid, he sends her the same amount of bubbles.

Olivia tosses again, to the other side of her body.

Jude Bellingham: Yeah? Jude Bellingham: How old are you? Me: i’m 15!! Me: n you?? Jude Bellingham: 14

A burst of light giggles escaping her lips.

Me: woooooow you’re like a little kid Jude Bellingham: Hahaha shut up

She bites her lips.

Me: btw Me: you got an insta jude? Jude Bellingham: I do!!

Olivia’s body awakens, shifting all its weight to her knees before flopping into a curl in the middle of her bed. Her fingers hover above her keyboards. Shit. she initiated, so she must be the one that asks first.

Me: wanna follow each other?

Groaning, she shuts her phone and flicks it two feet away from her, dramatically slapping both her palms—damp due to anxiety—against her face. Her phone dings as soon as it lands on the thinning bedcover.

Jude Bellingham: Sure!!!

Olivia plants her face into her pillow, lets out a muffled kind-of-bellow, before telling herself to get her act together.

Me: what's yours? Jude Bellingham: I’ve got a private one Jude Bellingham: It's jujudedebell

“jujudedebell,” she murmurs to herself, biting the inside of her cheeks.

Me: jujudedebell Me: 😂😂😂 Me: that's such a cute username Jude Bellingham: Hahaha Jude Bellingham: I gotta keep it lowkey, you know?

Olivia rolls her eyes and switches over to the Instagram app, typing the username into the search bar and requesting to follow the first account she sees.

Me: i requested to follow you!! Jude Bellingham: Alright!! Jude Bellingham: You're… viajangoli? 😂

Jude Bellingham: That's worse than mine Me: shut up!! Me: you should help me think of a better handle Jude Bellingham: I’ll let you know when something crosses my mind Jude Bellingham: Oh, miss Jang Jude Bellingham: You're popular huh?? Me: nooooo Me: i just meet a lot of people through internships and volunteering Me: i bet you'll be real popular soon too jude

Isn’t that how football careers usually go?

She bet he’s real popular even right now—proper, actual popular. He said that he’s got a private Instagram; she’s not even going to look up his public one.

Jude Bellingham: Yeah? Jude Bellingham: Also Jude Bellingham: Your most recent post Jude Bellingham: That’s in London ain’t it? Me: yes yes yes!! Me: went there last month for a school trip Me: best day of my life Me: been there? Jude Bellingham: Yeah with my family Jude Bellingham: Best day huh? Me: yeah Me: i wanna work there Jude Bellingham: Ohh Jude Bellingham: Going to London for school too? Me: my dad wont let me leave birmi for uni Me: but i want to work there Me: wbu Me: u got any dream job? Jude Bellingham: Well I’m a fan of this one football player Jude Bellingham: Zinedine Zidane Jude Bellingham: He’s my role model Jude Bellingham: He’s working for Real Madrid now Jude Bellingham: So maybe Real Madrid Jude Bellingham: Hahahaha

She raises an eyebrow at the football club.

Me: what’s so funny? Jude Bellingham: I don’t know Jude Bellingham: Real Madrid just seems so big Me: right now Me: we don’t know jude bellingham 10 years from now yeah? Jude Bellingham: You think it’s gonna take me 10 years to get into Real Madrid? Me: well if you believe in yourself Me: maybe five Me: or even three Me: or tomorrow Jude Bellingham: Tomorrow? 😂 Jude Bellingham: Lmao Me: idk Me: i don’t much about football but real madrid’s my brother favourite team Jude Bellingham: They are? Me: he’s crazy about marcelo or i don’t know Me: sorry lol Jude Bellingham: You’re good Jude Bellingham: How old is your brother? Me: he was born in 2005 Me: so like 12 Jude Bellingham: Oh, my brother’s the same age Me: oh you got a brother too? Jude Bellingham: Yeah, his name’s Jobe! Me: oh cute Me: jude and jobe Me: mine’s olivia and lip Me: from philip Jude Bellingham: Liv and Lip? Me: nobody really calls me liv Jude Bellingham: Well Jude Bellingham: I can be the first

Olivia shuts her phone. She spreads her arms wide on the bed, now laying in the middle, her back aching slightly as she stares up at the ceiling. Her mouth parts, letting the air circulate freely in and out her throat. After a while of trying to digest the odd feeling in her chest, letting it run down to her stomach where it hatches into butterflies, she raises her shaky hands to hold her phone over her face.

Me: mhmm Me: yeah sure you can

[xthelastknownsurvivorx]

2023 Writing Roundup

Thanks @inexplicablymine for the tag! This was a lot of fun to do

January

Satisfied (Never Have Been, Never Will Be) — RWRB, T, 833

Or, a rewrite of the lyrics of "Satisfied" from Hamilton set at the beginning of Philip and Martha's wedding, except Alex is a little flirtier and a little less repressed, told from Henry's pov.

February

Some Element of Mystery — RWRB, M, 4k

Or, five times that Alex thought Henry was a stripper, plus one time Henry corrected him. Written for the informal stripper!Henry fest.

March

Was working on finishing my master's thesis instead of fic for the most part, though I did write a few drabbles and make progress on my reincarnation au (see November)

April

Burn (They're Watching Us/I Hope That They) — RWRB, T, 295

Or, a rewrite of the lyrics of "Burn" from Hamilton, set immediately after the email leak, told from Alex's pov.

May

Graduated/finished my master's 🎉🎉 while also writing more of my reincarnation au (see November), including some major revisions

June

Got sick for part of the month, then spent the rest of it furiously working on my brownstone anniversary exchange fic (see July) doing tons of (probably unnecessary) research about Saturday Night Live and royal weddings.

July

SNL | Season 45 Episode 2 | HRH Prince Henry & FSOTUS Alex Claremont-Diaz — RWRB, M, 9k

Or, the fic in which I said bet and sent firstprince onto Saturday Night Live instead of having Alex go to London for a weekend. Written for the Brownstone Anniversary Fic Exchange.

August

Spent the month trying to make a lot of progress on reincarnation au (see November) and finally got some betas

September

Had a bad case of writer's block for most of the month, then went insane and wrote something for firstprince week (see October) despite promising myself I wasn't going to participate

October

Not a Day I Don't Miss (Those Rude Interruptions) — RWRB, T, 2k

Or, a Henry character study set during the week following Henry running from the lake house, loosely inspired by Taylor Swift's "Last Kiss". Written for firstprince week.

November

Red, White, and Royal Switcheroo — RWRB, T, 6k

Or, a body swap au set during Alex's "make nice" trip to England in which Alex and Henry have to play at being each other, and Alex discovers Henry's role is, in fact, very much not much easier to play. Written for Halloween, Huh?

Every Time My Heart Swings Back to You — RWRB, M, ~90k (ongoing)

Or, a reincarnation au set mostly in the modern era with college students Alex and Henry trying to piece together the story of their past lives as a knight and a prince through a series of non-linear flashbacks.

December

Trying my best to finish reincarnation au while also plotting out a very ambitious fic for a new fandom (mysterious lotus casebook) that I'll be trying to tackle in 2024. Also the month I got super into cdramas/c-ent.

--

Wow, compiling all this made me realize I wrote a whole lot more than I thought: posting 9 stories and writing around 50k new words! I also participated in a lot more fan events than ever before and finally begin sharing the story that's been living in my brain and docs only for almost three years. All in all, a very satisfying year for me while also looking forward to new projects in 2024~

I'm probably one of the last wants to get to this but tagging a few others who I don't think have done this (let me know though if you have) @14carrotghoul @formorewishes @affectionatelyrs @anincompletelist @celaestis1 @celeritas2997 @cricketnationrise, plus open tag because I'd love to see anyone else's writing year in review~

[memberment]

The End Is Near Updates??? (Let's fucking go, I guess???)

ALRIGHT WELL

All of my plans to get shit done before school starts continue to swirl the drain as I am full immersed in this rewrite.

I have decided to use headers and make this a single work because honestly I did not want to keep it a series so I figured it out

Also I'm at the end of book one. And SOBBING. I forgot Clyde and Kenny get married in the first round. This was literally the first fic I ever wrote them in like I'm screaming. This fic was my rare pair origin story lowk LMFAOOO like between them and butters/bebe like ugh.

My first book one was like just under 18k and I am currently slowly omw to 22k, like I am right there.

So it's looking like I'm just gonna be belting out monster-illiad length fics for a while with fun little sprinkles of 30/40ks

someone call god, tell him I need intense emotional support because the urge to post another chapter is already creeping up on me and it's been less than 24 hours. I CANNOT FALL INTO THIS SAME FUCKING TRAP AGAIN. Like I just assumed if I reworked an old fic I would throw it on post schedule and contain the same amount of self restraint that I do with my other fics but the literal worms in my brain are like *dont be shy post like 17 chapters in two hours* LIKE WHAT.

Excuse me, I'm busy being insane bc I have literally been up since three (it could have been 1:30, but I honestly can't recall) this morning LMFAO.

9:07 pm update: I took a nap to try and reduce the pure insanity I was dealing with it and I just opened my google doc and realized I'm about to start book 2. GUYS. Book two was by far my absolute fucking favorite. Like, I loved book 2. Frankly, want to make everything else feel more like book 2 bc AHHHHH IT WAS MY FAVORITEEEEE IDC WHAT ANYONE SAYS LMFAO

10:07: I just want you guys to know I reread Craig's chapter, yes his chapter, bc he now longer gets a little separated paragraph, but a chapter, and Heart to Heart came on and I started crying. And then proceeded to reread Tweek's end chapter and We'll Meet Again came on and I'm actually ready to throw up LMFAOOOOOO

(I wrote them before I went to sleep and I had to make sure they read well and blah blah whatever and now I'm just SAD. But also, what the fuck did I expect? This is what happens when you write a sad story with happy little stickers on it and a main character who despite everything wants nothing more than to be optimistic.)

9:18pm hi guys I am on my way home and yall are gonna HEAR IT IN MY END NOTES TONIGHT HOLY SHIT I GAVE TO PROOFREAD DANDELION I AM REALIZING THIS AS I TYPE IM GONNA BE SICK

anyways

I am here to rant bc I was just talking about it DOES ANYONE ELSE dislike when Bebe is portrayed as like an angel or like the opposite end of the spectrum and like straight up mean

LIKE I JUST WANNA SEE HER GIRLBOSS AND PEOPLE DO NOT WRITE HER LIKE THAT ANYMORE CAN I PLS GET SOME SUPER DYNAMIC GIRLBOSS BEBE RECS LMFAOOOOO

[trickster-shi]

WIP Updates

Been a while since I did one of these, and I should honestly be trying to sleep so this damn sore throat/respiratory crap goes away, but I just can't breathe when I lay down >_< however, I'm feeling a bit better than a couple days ago so I'll do this update and see if I can concentrate long enough to get some words in on at least one of these projects.

Project Zander:

I finished chapter five last night and sent it off to the beta readers. That one took a while to really come together to my satisfaction, especially the past scene. I had over 10k words on this chapter at one point before figuring out what it needed and cutting it down to 6500.

I am now working on outlining the next five chapters before I dive into chapter six.

Untitled Original Project:

I decided to scavenge some parts from Teenage Vigilante Witch and build an original story out of it. So far I like what I've got, which is about 4k words and needs a lot of outlining. Still keeping the found family aspect, but I'm doing a lot of world building and outlining to ensure it's a very different story from Teenage Viginate Witch. Looking back on it now, there was a lot of stuff I wish I'd explored in that first story, but it was written very fast and thrown up on archive to prove to myself that I could still write. I never intend to go back and edit or rewrite any of it, so I'm going to take the potential it had and put it into another story and take it a couple jogs to the left. Mostly, I'm going to be exploring that guilty/vigilante mindset with a spell amnesia twist that slowly pulls back to reveal a truth better left forgotten with a different take on found family. Still working out a lot of the details but I'm excited for it.

Home Across the Universe #10:

It's a little over 3k at the moment but I have notes and scenes in my email that I need to get and stitch together in the draft, so it's likely closer to 5k. Also, I already have the ending outlined and I'm excited to get to that since it's a cliffhanger I'm gonna get yelled at over. Looking forward to that. I may poke at this one today and see if I can get some more written on it.

Rabbit Come Home part 4:

Also a little over 3k written, I'm still outlining the scenes to make sure I include everything I need to so it's a satisfying ending. I'm shooting for this to be the end of the series and there are a lot of threads to tie off.

Into the Black, Episode 3:

Also sitting at 3k, this has a couple of chunk sitting in my email I need to stitch in as well. I haven't worked on it in a couple weeks and need to sit down and outline my scenes to figure out where it needs to go. I have a vague idea but not enough to work on, especially today with my mind being fried from sickness.

Untitled Sequel to the supposed Jurassic World/Teen Wolf Oneshot:

I told myself it was a one shot and I believed it for a while, but a plot bunny bit me after a recent rewatch of Fallen Kingdom and I now have...5,515 words of a sequel. It goes a bit AU from Fallen Kingdom because I had high hopes for the promises that movie set up for Dominion that Dominion just did not deliver for me. I'm still let down about that, apparently. I'm aiming to keep the story small in scale, but it was fun pitting Stiles against dinosaurs the first time and this sequel has him showcasing some more of his smarts while injured and a little delirious from pain meds, so it should be entertaining.

Aaand, that's all I've been working on lately. Hoping to get the next Home Across the Universe oneshot finished and posted first, though I'm not making any promises or predictions on when that will be. Hopefully I can scrape together enough brain cells to work on it today and get it closer to the end scene.

[vespertin-y]

sowwy i'm late but questions 1 and 29 for danganronpa asks? :3

1. What was your first exposure to Danganronpa?

I was incredibly sick and devouring a ton of youtube videos while barely understanding them; I stumbled across a let’s play of THH and marathoned the whole thing before moving on to the second, at which point the appearance of twogami confused and frightened my fever-addled brain so much that I slammed my laptop shut and proceeded to have several nightmares. I then almost completely forgot about the series until the pandemic 😭

29. Talent swap time! Which two characters do you think would benefit best from a talent swap?

Hmm…I think if they were gonna treat maki’s assassin talent the way they did they might as well have just made her a really traumatized babysitter, yknow? (Or a bounty hunter like in my rewrite teehee). Other than that, I can’t really think of anyone I’d want to change aside from some nitpicky phrasing differences…

[cocastyle]

Change - Ch. 2 | O N E

Pairing - Bill Denbrough x reader

Word Count - 13,258

A/N - super long beginning chapter for this half of the series but one hundred percent necessary! I didn’t want to split up the part where each person gets their phone calls, so I decided to make it one long chapter to kick the second movie rewrite off. I am beyond excited for what’s to come and I really hope you all enjoy this rewrite!

if you would like to be added to the tag list for this series let me know!

C H A N G E

Change Series Masterlist

* - * - * - * - * - * - * - * - * - * - *

O N E - Beginning of the End

* - * - * - * - * - * - * - * - * - * - *

Memory. It's a funny thing.

People want to believe they are what they choose to remember—the good stuff, the moments, the places, the people we all hold onto. But sometimes. . .sometimes we are what we wish we could forget.

The thing is sometimes what we wish was forgotten, what we tried to leave in the past, won't stay there. Sometimes it comes back for you.

- - -

Bill Denbrough stared blankly at his computer screen, watching as the cursor blinked repeatedly as he had yet to type a word other than the setting which was 'attic' on the paper. A copy of his latest book titled The Attic Room sat beside his computer, little slips of paper sticking out from different pages he had marked down and made notes on.

A knock on his trailer door was what finally snapped the man out of his thoughts, lifting his head in the direction of the door in a tired manner as if he wasn't quite sure if the knock was real or not. When the door suddenly opened up, Bill was quick to sit up and nod his head forward, the action causing his glasses to fall from his forehead and back onto his nose as he pretended to be typing away. "Mr. Denbrough," a soft voice said and Bill glanced over to see a woman a little younger than him with short blonde hair and a headset, "they need you on set."

It took all of Bill's willpower not to look at all surprised when he was practically screaming inside of his head. Already? Hadn't he only just sat down to write? How long had he been sitting there? Glancing at his watch, Bill swallowed thickly once he realized he had been sitting there for hours now, the day already almost over by now.

Bill could feel the woman's eyes still on him and he was quick to plaster a fake smile on his face as he looked to her and gave her a short nod. That seemed to be enough of an answer for her and she disappeared outside leaving Bill to collect his things as he tiredly took his glasses off his face.

His eyes instantly flickered to his computer and he put both hands on his face before dragging them down with a small sigh. Bill reached out and shut the computer without another thought about it and grabbed the computer and copy of his book before hurrying out of his trailer where the woman was waiting for him.

"We're just going to go this way," the woman said as she began to walk Bill towards one of the many buildings on the Warner Bros property.

Bill was trying his best not to seem as nervous as he was, gripping onto his book and computer tight enough with one hand that his other could relax peacefully by his side. He felt queasy and for a moment he wondered if he was going to be sick. He hadn't felt this nervous in a long time and Bill thought to himself about the last time he had been this nervous if not more.

For just a second it was like a image of startling e/c eyes flashed through his head, but it had vanished before he could grasp it. The image was gone as quick as it had came and Bill had no clue what he had even been thinking about in the first place.

A small frown began to make its way onto Bill's face, but it was quickly replaced by a panicked look once he saw the garage door to the set beginning to fall closed. His eyes widened and he jogged past the woman who shouted after him, but he ignored her and was quick to slide under the door just as it was closing.

"Hey, use the door!" a man exclaimed as he pointed towards the regular door that Bill could've easily walked through. "Come on! You never seen Indiana Jones?" Bill questioned, his eyebrows furrowing at the man. It had only been a joke, something to get his heart bumping in an excited and adventurous way instead of the nervous beating his heart had encountered moments before.

"Watch it!" another voice exclaimed and Bill was quick to stop in his tracks as a man walked past him with a container of props rolling across the floor. Bill shook his head slightly, already overwhelmed, and began to make his way across the room and over to where he assumed the director would be.

"Hey, hey, you a member?" a man asked, but Bill was barely able to register what he said as he walked past him. "Hmm? I'm. . .the writer," Bill finally managed to get out before he walked onto set.

Instead of finding the director, Bill was met with another sight that made him even more uncomfortable then he already was. "Bill," Audra Phillips, the leading lady of the movie who also happened to be his ex-wife, greeted him. "Hey."

He had been married to Audra for eight years before the two had ended things a year back. In all honesty, Bill wasn't quite sure why he had married the woman in the first place. He had thought he loved her, but the moment she had asked for a divorce he could only describe having felt one emotion—relief. Their marriage hadn't ended badly and there had been no problems. It was just two people simply falling out of love with each other. Audra had even started to date a co-star she had met a few months back and Bill was happy for her. After all, he had come to the realization that Audra wasn't the girl for him. He had a feeling like there was someone out there for him and the crazy thing was that he felt like he had already met her, but that she was lost. Weird, right?

Bill and Audra weren't exactly friends per say and only saw each other as business partners, knowing that neither one would be able to survive in their business without a mutual agreement between the two. However, Bill still couldn't help but think about how much he hated having to work the same movie with her.

"Do you have the pages?" Audra questioned, snapping Bill out of his thoughts as she took a step closer to him, her eyes staring intently at him in both a questioning and alarmed manner. Bill hesitated and it was then that Audra's eyes widened. However, neither got a chance to say anything before the director was suddenly lowering his seat down in between the two, his gaze on Bill.

"My friend," the director Peter began, looking to Bill in exasperation, "a film needs an ending. You do know that right?" "Oh, yeah," Bill replied, looking to Peter in slight disbelief. However, he couldn't blame him for asking. Bill had a tendency to procrastinate when it came to writing especially when it was something like this where they wanted him to change the ending of his book.

"You said that you needed another day to finish the pages and we're shooting this thing. It's tonight," Audra told him, her eyes still on Bill as she spoke in an accusing tone. "It's been seventeen hours," Bill muttered, but no one seemed to be listening to him.

"Everybody calm down, okay?" Peter said, his eyes flickering between the two as if he were afraid they would begin to fight. Despite their business agreement, Audra and Bill had been known to argue on more than one occasion and it was obvious Peter did not want to see another one of those. "I'm calm," Bill told him, unsure as to where Peter could see any hostility in what he was saying.

"I want you to be happy with the movie, you understand? I'm on your side," Peter insisted. "That's. . .that's great. Cause in my book the ending-" Bill began. "Is terrible," Peter finished with no regret or hesitation. Bill blinked in surprise and looked to the director with furrowed eyebrows. "With all due respect, people love your book. Love! But they hated the ending."

"You said you liked the ending," Bill said, looking a little defeated as he studied the man in front of him. Did people really hate his endings? "That was a lie," Peter told him bluntly while Audra glanced to Bill in a way that seemed to hold just a tad bit of sympathy. "We got to do better, okay?" Bill was hesitant before looking down at the ground and nodding his head. "Yeah," he breathed out, although he wasn't sure what to think.

"Audra, you have my notes. Could you-?" Peter questioned as he gestured towards Bill causing the man to look up and over at Audra in surprise while she nodded in response. "Thank you very much. Could you take me back to-"

Before Bill could even hear the rest of his sentence, Peter was gone and back into the film leaving Bill and Audra standing there. "You have his notes?" Bill finally questioned, turning to look at his ex wife in disbelief. “He's not wrong," Audra sighed. "You hate my endings too?" Bill asked surprised, having never heard in their eight years of marriage that she hated his endings. In fact, she had praised him on multiple occasions. Had a year of them not being married changed her perspective that much?

"Not all your endings. This just-" Audra admitted while Bill's eyes widened and he turned to walk away. Audra was quick to follow after him, knowing that he had to get the pages done in order for this movie to be finished. "What? Do you want me to keep lying to you just because we used to-" "Be married?" Bill questioned as he looked back at the women. "No, no. You just. . .you been blowing smoke up my ass for eight years? I guess I thought you were someone else."

"I have not been blowing smoke up your ass," Audra said, a look of anger crossing her face as she stopped beside Bill who was at the catering table.

"Everybody wants a happy ending. Everybody wants closure, but it's not the way life works out," Bill insisted, hesitating slightly as he felt his heart ache. For a moment he thought he felt something poking his brain, a memory begging to be let out. But it was gone just as fast as the image from earlier and he was already forgetting about it.

"I think what Peter wants and what the studio wants-" Audra began only for Bill to snap his head in her direction. "The studio?" he questioned, even more surprised than before now that he knew that everyone seemed to be talking about his book and how much the ending sucked. "When did you become the company? You're an artist. Come on. What's wrong with doing it the way it's written? The way I want it? What's wrong with being the woman I want you to be?"

Audra's eyes widened a little in anger and she gritted her teeth before saying, "Fuck you, Bill!"

"On the page," Bill sighed, not having meant it the way Audra was taking it, but it seemed the woman didn't care. "The part I mean. Not you. I don't even care about you in that way." Audra's eyes widened even more in anger and Bill swore she was about to slap him. "Shit, that came out wrong."

Bill's cell ringing was what finally saved him from himself and he went to fish his phone out of his pocket while Audra sent a glare at him before walking away. He didn't even bother yelling after her for he knew there was no point. She wouldn't want to listen and they would just end up arguing more than they just had.

Turning back to the food table so that Bill wouldn't have to acknowledge the eyes that were staring at him from all around the movie set, the man glanced at his phone to see that it was a call coming from Derry, Maine. Bill got that same feeling once again, like there was something he was missing, but he pushed it aside and instead exited out of one of the back doors so that he woundn't disrupt filming.

"Hello?" Bill questioned as he put the phone to his ear, confused as to who could be calling him that lived in Derry, Maine. "Bill Denbrough?" a deep voice said, a voice that Bill did not recognize at all. "It's Mike." Bill furrowed his eyebrows, still not knowing who this person was. "Mike who?" Bill asked.

"Mike Hanlon."

It took Bill a moment to even register what the man had said and it was in that moment that he stopped in his tracks. The nervousness he had felt earlier about talking to Peter and Audra was nothing compared to the feeling he was suddenly getting.

It was like his whole body had gone cold, so cold in fact that he was numb to all other sensations. All he could hear was a ringing in his ears before it was quickly overpowered by his heartbeat that had begun to race so fast despite Bill not knowing why. His breathing picked up its pace ever so slightly and Bill didn't even register his hand which had started to shake as it held onto his phone.

Fear, that was what he felt. But for what? He was unsure.

"From Derry."

And it was then that Bill was brought back to reality, wincing slightly as he suddenly got a flashback of a young dark skinned boy smiling at him. He had to have been thirteen years old and the image of the boy plus the name Mike Hanlon and the connection of Derry were enough for Bill to remember who it was he was talking to.

How had he been able to forget about Mike? They had been best friends up until the day Bill had moved away and for a moment Bill remembered having promised to keep in touch with Mike only to realize he never had. Now why was that?

A few more memories flashed through Bill's head and it felt as if he couldn't breath as he remembered his thirteen year old self sitting in a circle with the people who had all been his best friends—Stanley Uris, Mike Hanlon, Ben Hanscom, Beverly Marsh, Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak, and Y/N Uris.

Bill felt like he had just gotten a punch to the gut at that last name, his eyes widening as he suddenly saw an image of Y/N Uris standing before him in a field. Her h/c hair blowing gently in the wind, her e/c eyes glistening under the rays of the sun while she sent him one of those effortless smiles of hers that used to make him feel as if he were going to have a heart attack.

You make me happy, Bill Denbrough.

Y/N Uris.

Now how the hell could he forget about her?

Before Bill could think of her much longer, his hand suddenly began to flare up in pain. The man winced and was quick to look down at his hand and at a scar that ran along his palm, a scar that he didn't remember having until that very moment. And all he could do was stare at the scar while Mike's voice rang in his ear.

"You need to come home."

- - -

"Eddie, I keep telling you not to scare me like this and you never listen to me," Myra Kaspbrak complained over the speaker of the car while a shaky hand reached for the glove compartment to pull out a container of pills.

"Alright, Myra!" Eddie Kaspbrak exclaimed, knowing that there was no other way to gain the attention of his wife unless his voice was louder than hers. He held the bottle of pills up to his lips and was quick to dump his doctor prescribed amount into his mouth. "Please not now."

"You shouldn't be out there," Myra insisted while Eddie huffed in annoyance low enough that she couldn't hear. "Eddie, it's not safe to drive when the roads are slick like this."

"Sweetheart, it stopped raining like three hours ago, alright? Everything's going to be fine," Eddie assured her before the honking of a cab gained his attention. The man was quick to look out the window and yell, "Hey, dickhead! Slow traffic mean anything to you?"

"What if you hydroplane?" Myra continued, ignoring Eddie's yells. "I'm not going to hydroplane," Eddie insisted, already feeling himself becoming more and more tense behind the wheel. He was trying to keep himself calm, but that was hard. How had he ever been able to calm his younger self down when there are people like Myra always yelling at him?

Taking in a deep breath, Eddie managed to keep his voice steady long enough to reply, "It is my job to assess risks so please trust me when I tell you that statistically speaking I am much more likely to get into an accident because I am talking to you on the phone! Alright? I have to go. I will talk to you soon. Goodbye."

Eddie didn't even give Myra time to respond before he was ending the call and he let out a small sigh of relief once it was over. However, he had barely even gotten the sigh out before his phone was ringing again.

Eddie was quick to press the answer button and, thinking it was a client, he said, "Edward Kaspbrak speaking." "You didn't say 'okay, bye, I love you' like you usually do," Myra's voice came through the speaker once again.

Eddie had to resist the urge to scream as he said, "Listen to me! I can't! I'm going to be late to this-" His phone began to ring again and he glanced down at the screen before falling quiet, his eyes locking onto the caller ID which read Derry, Maine. "-meeting."

Eddie felt as if someone had dunked a bucket of ice cold water on him, the cold seeping all the way down to his bones and making his whole body ache. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end and for the first time in a while he had the sudden urge to use his inhaler.

He was afraid, but what of?

But then he saw a flash of an image, a boy with thick rimmed glasses grinning at him as he nudged his side with his elbow. And then he was hearing a voice that didn't belong to the boy with glasses whisper into his ear, soft and so familiar despite the fact that he couldn't pinpoint why he remembered it.

Eds.

He had never been called Eds before to his knowledge, having always hated it since he was a child. So why did he suddenly hear a young girl's voice whispering it into his ear? And why was that enough to calm him down and make his fear disappear?

"Say 'I love you,' Eddie," Myra insisted, but Eddie was barely listening to her, his gaze still focused on the caller ID. "Okay. I love you, Mommy," Eddie muttered as if in a trance. "What?" Myra's voice said and that was enough to have Eddie snap out of it.

"Myra," he corrected before going to end the call. "Bye." Eddie didn't even hesitate to answer the call from Derry, but when it got to speaking, he found himself hesitating longer than he should've for an unknown reason.

"Hello?" Eddie finally said, his eyes staring warily at the screen as if that would answer all of his unknown questions. "Who is this?"

"It's me. Mike," a voice replied and Eddie gulped, his eyes still on the screen. "Mike who?" Eddie questioned nervously. He was too focused on the screen to notice that he ran a red light until honking was heard and a yellow cab hit the car from the side. Eddie's car came to a screeching stop as all air bags went off.

"Eddie, you okay?" Mike asked in a panic after hearing the crash from the other side of the line.

From under the air bag, Eddie's voice croaked out. "Yeah, I'm pretty good," Eddie replied although he had a feeling he was going to be anything but okay after this phone call.

- - -

Richie Tozier gripped onto the metal stair railing the best that he could as he puked over the side and onto the ground below. His whole body was shaking as he stood there feeling colder than he had ever felt before yet sweating to the point where his glasses began to slide down his nose.

He was sick once more over the side of the railing before he managed to glance at his phone which he had been on only moments before to answer a call from Derry, Maine. He hadn't known what to expect when answering it and had honestly thought either a fan had found his number or someone was calling to try and book him.

However nothing could prepare him for Mike Hanlon to be on the other end, a name he hadn't heard of in years and a boy he hadn't heard from in just as long. He hadn't even remembered the boy until Mike had said his full name, the name jogging something in Richie's mind as he remembered the homeschooler he used to be friends with.

It was then that Richie remembered the rest of his best friends who had all dawned the group name of the Losers Club and Richie realized he hadn't thought of them in what seemed like forever. In fact, he couldn't even remember half of the things they did together, but as the minutes ticked by he slowly began to remember his best friends who he had joked and messed around with until he was pretty sure the memories had gotten too much for him that he had been sick.

It had to be the memories, right? What else could it be?

"What the fuck?" a voice exclaimed behind him causing the man to stand up and look to see his manager standing at the door that led back into the club. "You were fine like five seconds ago. Who was it? Who called?"

Richie couldn't bring himself to say anything, his whole body still shaking violently as he gripped onto the metal railing. Why did he suddenly have a feeling like something was wrong? Was it because Mike told him he needed to come home? Was it because he felt guilty for having forgotten about the very friends he used to swear he would never forget about?

"Rich?" his manager said and for a moment Richie swore he heard the nickname said in what he distantly remembered as Eddie Kaspbrak's voice. "Rich?" there it was again, but this time it sounded like a girl. It took merely a second for Richie to identify it as Y/N Uris and he swore he grew paler, but why?

"Talk to me," his manager said and it was then that Richie began to snap out of it and stood up taller as he knew that neither Eddie or Y/N were here or even still thirteen years old. "You're on in two minutes," his manger announced as he handed Richie a rag which he quickly used to wipe his mouth. "You good? Cause you look not good."

In all honesty, Richie wasn't sure if he was good or not. He had forgotten about his best friends. Mike Hanlon had called telling him he needed to come home without any explanation why. His hand hurt like a bitch because of some scar he didn't remember having. And he had a sickening feeling in his gut which he could only describe as fear. But fear of what exactly?

"I'm fine," Richie insisted, quickly leaving the alleyway and walking back into the club. He couldn't think about Derry or the Losers any more especially not when he was supposed to be doing a show. Mike would just have to wait.

"You're fine? Good. Okay. And we're walking and we're walking," his manager muttered as he quickly stepped into line by Richie's side. "Sixty seconds," a stage manager announced to the pair. "Even faster," his manager said as he ushered Richie to pick up his pace, but Richie was struggling to even stand up right at this point. "Could you get him a bottle of water maybe?"

"Bourbon," Richie corrected, knowing he would need something a lot stronger to get through the show. "Bourbon?" his manager questioned before realizing Richie was serious and nodding to the stage manager to go. "Sure. Sure." "And a mint," Richie muttered as he grimaced at the taste in his mouth.

"Showtime," his manager said as they got closer to the stage, but Richie shook his head in distress. "I don't think I can do this," Richie admitted, feeling sicker by the second. His manager began to grumble behind him, but Richie was barely paying attention as someone was suddenly handing him a glass of bourbon and a container of mints. "That was fast."

Richie downed the drink almost instantly before popping multiple mints in his mouth. Knowing he had a crowd waiting for him, Richie took in a deep breath before walking over to the door that lead to the stage but that actually happened to be the emergency exit.

"This way," his manager corrected him, directing the man down a different hallway and through a different door. "Attaboy. Okay." "Alright, how do I look?" Richie questioned, his hands violently shaking the glass and a container of mints in his hands while he forced a smile onto his face.

His manager grimaced slightly and stared at Richie for a moment before sighing, "Yeah, your hands are shaking, Rich." Richie blinked in surprise before looking down at his hands to find that they were in fact shaking. "Shit," he muttered before quickly shoving the two items into his manager's hands. It was too late to do anything else, so the man began to walk towards the stage, slowly breathing in and out to try and calm his nerves.

"Ladies and gentlemen. Please welcome Richie Tozier!"

Richie was quick to put on a fake smile and raise his hand as he walked out on stage. The crowd began to clap and cheer, a sound that usually made Richie feel at home but tonight made him feel more alone and uncomfortable than ever.

Cursing himself slightly, Richie walked over to the microphone in the middle of the stage and took in a deep breath before smiling at the audience and beginning his routine, ignoring the slight shake of his hands that he was desperately trying to control.

"Alright, how we doin' today?" Richie questioned earning a roar of cheering from the audience. It was obvious that they couldn't tell he was nervous and that put Richie a little bit at ease.

"So my girlfriend caught me uh masterbating to her friend's Facebook page and uh. . .so now I'm in masterbaters anonymous," Richie said, reciting the lines he had read off of a script for the first time the night before. The crowd seemed to like it and laughed and that laughter only made Richie feel more at ease.

"And I stand up at the first meeting and I say 'my name is Richie Trashmouth-'" Richie stopped abruptly, his whole demeanor changing as he accidentally said the nickname that he been bestowed upon him when he was younger. He hadn't even remembered the nickname up until it slipped from his mouth. Where had that come from?

Oh okay, trash the trash-mouth, I get it, he distantly heard his thirteen year old voice say in his head although he couldn't remember why he was saying that or to whom.

In a blink of an eye the memory was gone and Richie could do nothing but stand there on stage with a blank expression, the joke completely gone from his head. In fact, he couldn't even seem to remember the rest of the script he had spent hours practicing.

"Trashmouth uh. . .I forgot the joke," Richie admitted while a whistle was heard from the crowd. Before long people had started to whisper, some even booed before a woman yelled out, "You suck!" Richie faked a smile at that before looking down at his feet. He was suddenly overcome with another wave of nausea and Richie couldn't help but think back to the phone call with Mike.

What the fuck had that phone call done to him?

- - -

"Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for letting us present to you today," an employee of Hanscom & Associates said, his eyes flickering over the table before him before he gestured towards the building model on the table in front of them. "Now this will include over a million square feet of commercial and residential space-"

"What I'm really looking for is to understand how we create even more retail opportunities," another man at the table explained, his gaze steady and calculating. "If we put in walls here and all along here-“

"Lose them," a new voice said causing everyone in the room to look to the television screen which held a video conference call with the owner of the company himself. "With all due respect, Mr. Hanscom," the original man began, but Ben Hanscom was quick to correct him.

"Ben," he insisted as he leaned back a little in the office chair he had at home. "And with all due respect, I'm getting claustrophobic just looking at this model, aren't you? Look throw up more walls, it's gonna feel like a prison. You know what people want to do in prison? Get out, right? This should be a place that brings people together. A meeting ground."

Ben's eyes flickered down to his wallet and he gently reached for it before opening it up, his fingers brushing against an old folded piece of paper that was slightly sticking out with cursive handwriting just beginning to peak out behind the leather.

Ben rested his fingers against the paper and looked up thoughtfully as an image of a wooden room filled his thoughts, laughter of children echoing in his head as he distantly remembered a group of kids that had changed his life forever.

"Clubhouse," he whispered, his eyes glazing over as he got lost in thought. "And if, while people are there then-"

A small buzz pulled the man out of his thoughts and he trailed off as he looked to his right and at his phone sitting beside him. He froze at the sight of a number calling from Maine.

It was like time stood still and he was sure his face paled. For some reason he felt a sense of dread wash over him, like something was nagging at the back of his head telling him to either ignore the call completely and never think of it again or drop everything just to answer it.

He didn't know why, but it felt like his throat was beginning to close up, his heart thumping a little faster while a prickling feeling started from his toes before moving up the rest of his body. For the first time in Ben didn't know how long, he felt scared. But why? It was only a phone call? What was there to fear?

"Excuse me for one second," Ben said as he looked back at his computer before quickly pausing the video conference. "Hello?" Ben said as he stood up, his voice shaky although he wasn't sure why.

"Ben? It's Mike Hanlon from Derry."

- - -

Beverly Marsh awoke with a jolt, the feeling of something wet against her cheek being enough to wake her almost instantly. However, when she went to rub her cheek, there was nothing there. Frowning, Beverly stared up at the ceiling with a blank expression on her face but was quickly startled once again when her phone began to buzz beside her.

The red head snapped her head in the phone's direction, her eyebrows furrowing at the sight of someone from Maine calling her, and was quick to pick up her phone and rush to the kitchen as to not wake up her husband.

It wasn't long before she was sitting at her kitchen table, the voice of one of her childhood best friends Mike Hanlon ringing in her ears. "You made a promise, Beverly," Mike said almost sadly, but Beverly could barely register it. She was still getting an overwhelming amount of sudden memories flashing through her head, memories she had thought she had forgotten.

She tried to grasp onto the memories, but each time she did they would disappear back to the depths of her mind just out of reach. It was like she was remembering, but not at the same time. She felt as if there were things she was forgetting, fragments of her past missing from her mind. Although she barely remembered anything from her past up until Mike had called, so why was she worried about it?

"I-I'm so sorry, Mike," Beverly sighed, shaking slightly as she hugged her body with her free arm. She wasn't sure why she was so cold all of a sudden or why she felt like her heart was in her throat. Why was she so afraid? She was only talking to Mike. "I don't even really remember."

"Haven't you ever wondered why you can't seem to remember the things most people should? About where they're from? About who you are?" Mike questioned and Beverly swallowed thickly for she knew exactly what Mike was talking about. People had asked her before about her past, but she had never been able to answer them. It was like part of her life was missing from her mind and she had no idea why.

"Why you have that scar on your hand?" Mike questioned once Beverly didn't respond and that was enough to have the red head freeze. She shakily held her hand out, her eyes locking on the scar that ran across the palm of her hand. She had barely even stared at it for a second before she suddenly felt a searing pain grow where the scar was.

"No one else remembered either. Eddie, Bill, Richie, Ben," Mike listed off all while Beverly stared at her hand. But at the mention of the last name, she couldn't help but freeze.

"Ben," she whispered almost in a daze for she hadn't heard that name in a long time. At least not when referring to the boy she used to be best friends with. For a moment she remembered a field and walking along a small path with Ben by her side, the shy boy hesitantly brushing his fingers against her own before Beverly had smiled and taken his hand in hers.

"You have to come back," Mike said, his words finally snapping out of her thoughts long enough for her to look away from her scarred hand and outside at the pouring rain. "You all do."

Beverly got that sinking feeling in her stomach once again, her whole body chilled down to the bone. "When?" she breathed out, her voice barely above a whisper.

It wasn't long before Beverly was off the phone and packing her bags. Her nerves were haywire causing her to frantically rush around while her thoughts jumbled around in her brain. She couldn't even think straight, so it didn't even register to her just how loud she was being until she had grabbed her packed bag and was going to leave her closet only to find her husband standing there.

Beverly jumped back out of pure fright, her eyes wide before she registered that it was her husband standing before her and not—

The red head's thoughts stopped instantly in their tracks. Whatever she had thought was waiting for her was gone and for a moment she wondered what she had been expecting and why she couldn't remember.

"Woah, you okay?" her husband questioned causing the red head to snap back to reality as she looked to him. "What's going on? It's uh. . .the middle of the night and you're packing?"

Beverly was quick to lean up and peck her husband's lips once as she began to walk past him. "I didn't want to wake you," Beverly admitted. "Honey, I know this week's been really exhausting. I just got a phone call from an old friend from Derry. I have to go back there. It's really hard to explain why."

"It's okay," he assured her as he walked over to where she was currently sitting on their bed tying her shoes. He sat down next to her, his face completely blank of emotion, but his voice soft. "You don't have to explain yourself to me. Relax." He reached out and gently took Beverly's hand in his own. "I trust you."

"Thank you," Beverly sighed as she leaned forward and kissed the man once more. She went to get up and grab her bag, but she barely got a step away before her husband was gripping onto her wrist tightly, his fingers digging into her arm hard enough to make the woman wince.

Beverly froze, a sickening feeling growing in her stomach once again but this time the fear was directed at her husband. She slowly turned to look at the man who was staring at the ground shaking his head.

"I just don't understand why you'd lie to me," he said before he looked up at Beverly with an accusing glare. Beverly began to shake her head, but the man ignored it and stood up, pulling her dangerously closer to him. "I heard you. You said the name Mike."

"Yes, my friend," Beverly insisted. "There was a group of us back then and-and we all made a promise to each other when we were kids-"

"You know trust is everything in a relationship," her husband persisted, his grip tightening before he released her in order to reach out and brush his hand against her cheek. Beverly couldn't help but move away ever so slightly from his touch. "You know it means everything to me, right?"

"I know," Beverly told him. "But this isn't-" "What?" her husband asked, letting his hand drop to his side as his gaze grew colder by the second. "Like the last time?" "I never cheated on you," Beverly tried to say as she leaned forward to comfort the man, but he was quick to grab her hair from behind, pulling her back and making Beverly gasp in pain.

"You're a bad fucking liar, Bev," he said behind gritted teeth, tightening his grip on her hair and pulling her down even more that she was bent at an odd angle. "You're not going anywhere, okay? I want you to stay right here and you're going to show me what it is you're going to do with Mike, okay?" He slammed the red head against the wall and Beverly bit her lip to hold back a scream of pain that was begging to escape.

"You're. . .you're hurting me, honey," Beverly muttered but he didn't seem to care. "No one else is going to love you like me, you know that right?" he asked aggressively, not noticing that Beverly had shakily brought her hand up to his cheek until she scratched him across the face. His hold on her instantly dropped and he yelled out in pain while Beverly stood up. Her eyes widened and she was quick to go up behind him, whimpering slightly as she whispered, "I'm. . .I'm sorry."

She didn't even have time to think before her husband was suddenly turning on her and hitting her with his belt as hard as he could. Beverly grabbed onto his arm and he gave her a deathly glare. "Don't make this fucking harder!" he growled and Beverly had to take in a shaky breath to try and calm her nerves. "Don't," she whispered, but it was too late. Her husband threw a punch that knocked her back so hard she fell onto the bed. When she turned around, he had begun to take his shirt off and Beverly felt as if she were going to be sick. Just when he was pulling the shirt over his head, Beverly thrust both of her legs out so that she kicked him back.

He stumbled back with a groan and Beverly tumbled off the side of the bed as she desperately tried to grab something. She could hear him running at her, so the red head grabbed onto a picture frame and threw it at her husband only for him to knock it aside like it were nothing. Just when he was about to grab her, Beverly got onto her feet with a glass vase in hand and smashed it against his head.

Her husband fell to the ground almost instantly and Beverly was quick to grab her things and rush out of the room. "You're nothing without me! You know that, right?" her husband yelled after her as Beverly ran down the rest of the stairs and out the door. She didn't even flinch under the touch of the rain and continued her way down the steps, placing her wedding band on top of the stair railing before walking away as fast as she could.

Beverly didn't know where she was going, the shock of what had just happened carrying her down the middle of the street. She couldn't even process the honking of the cars as she walked, her only thoughts on how she needed to get to Derry.

As she walked down the street, the rushing of water was enough to make her snap out of her senses. Beverly glanced to the side, her eyes instantly locking on the sewer drain beside her. For but a moment, Beverly felt as if there was something trying to break through the back of her memories, a voice screaming at the top of their lungs. She had never felt so uneasy than she did in that moment and Beverly was quick to walk away as fast as she could. She had to get to Derry was what she reminded herself.

Yet she couldn't help but look back at the sewer once more wondering why she felt more afraid of a sewer than she was of her now ex husband.

- - -

Birds and a weird fascination for the animals had always been a part of Stanley Uris' life for as long as he could remember. Something about them just intrigued the man and even to this day he would spend his mornings bird watching in his backyard, his cousin by his side more often than not.

Birds had become a constant theme in his life and the puzzle on the table in front of him was no exception. He stared blankly at an empty place before letting his eyes roam over the small pile of pieces he still had left. His gaze was calculating as he tried to solve the puzzle in his head, but it quickly disappeared as he looked up at the sixteen year old sitting by his side.

Greyson Uris had his gaze locked on his mother who sat beside Stan's wide Patty, the two women whispering between each other as they pointed at something on a computer screen. Stan watched Greyson for a moment, letting his eyes flicker over the messy mop of brown hair he had and the features of his face that looked so much like his cousin. He was without a doubt his cousin's son especially when it came down to his huge heart.

It was obvious by the way Greyson was watching his mother that he was worried and Stan gently nudged the young boy so that he turned to look at him. Stan gave him a soft smile before whispering, "Penny for your thoughts?"

That was enough to crack a small smile on the teen's face, but it flickered as he glanced back at his mother. "I just worry about her is all. She's been working extra shifts at the office the last couple of weeks and I know it's because she's trying to hide the fact she's a little tight on money right now. She keeps trying to act like everything's fine just for my sake, but I can tell she's tired," Greyson admitted, shifting his gaze back to Stan. "I know it's hard being a single mother, but she doesn't have to hide it from me. I just want to help."

Stan stared at the boy for a moment, a small sympathetic smile on his face as a flicker of sadness flashed through his eyes. He knew what Greyson was talking about. His cousin had been struggling to raise enough money to both keep the two up on their feet while also still giving Greyson the childhood she thought he deserved. She was tired and life was becoming heavier on her shoulders every day.

Stan blamed Greyson's father, the man having walked out on his best friend the moment he heard she was pregnant. He left her without a moment of hesitation and didn't bother helping pay child support or make an effort to be a part of Greyson's life.

He had tried once a couple of years back, but the bond between mother and son was unlike any other and Greyson who had been fourteen at the time hadn't hesitated to show the man to the door and tell him never to come back. His cousin had come to Stan crying that night over how sweet her little boy was and how much she loved him and Stan had only grown more respect for the boy ever since.

Greyson's father hadn't been in the picture since and Greyson didn't seem all too upset about it. For as long as he had his mother, he was okay. That's why he was always so worried about her because she was not only his mother but his best friend and had raised him on her own with a little help here and there from Stan and Patty. It had always just been Greyson and and his mother, so it was no surprise for Stan to hear about the boy's concerns.

"Well," Stan began once he noticed Greyson's gaze was back on his mother, "I think your mother just doesn't want to worry you is all. All she wants is for you to have a worry free childhood especially after what happened with her own parents. She doesn't want you to have to go through any of that pain like she did."

Greyson was silent for a moment before he looked to Stan almost hesitantly. "It doesn't mean she can't ask for help," he spoke softly. "All of this is just stressing her out and I don't even remember the last time I saw her genuinely happy."

Stan went silent at that and thought back to the girl he remembered growing up with compared to the woman he knew now. There was definitely a difference in her happiness, but when it came to Greyson she had never loved or cared for someone more. Greyson was what kept her from falling apart and the boy didn't seem to realize how much just being himself helped his mother through the hard times.

"I know it's hard, kid," Stan sighed as he put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "But the best you can do right now is stick by her side and hopefully she will come around. She needs you just as much as you need her." Greyson was quiet for a moment before numbly nodding his head and looking back to the puzzle. Stan took that as an end to the conversation and turned his attention back to the puzzle as well, a comfortable silence falling among the two.

It was minutes later before Greyson spoke up again, his happy demeanor back once again and the conversation from before way behind them. "Here it is," Greyson exclaimed triumphantly as he handed a puzzle piece to Stan who had been staring at a missing piece on the board in concentration.

Stan glanced at the boy before gently taking the puzzle piece and placing it in the spot. It fit perfectly and Stan looked back to Greyson before giving him a small smile, the action making Greyson smile wide in response. “This is why I keep you around," Stan joked as he reached out to ruffle the sixteen year old's hair. Greyson let out a small chuckle and smiled at the man before him, not noticing his mother's gaze from behind.

"Greyson," Y/N Uris softly called out from where she sat beside Stan's wife Patty who was currently scrolling through plane tickets on her computer. The sound of his mother's voice was enough to have Greyson turning to look at the woman and she smiled softly before saying, "Time to go, kid." Greyson instantly frowned. "Come on, Mom. Uncle Stan and I are almost done with the puzzle!" Greyson complained while Stan threw a small smirk in his cousin's direction.

Stan wasn't technically Greyson's uncle, but since Stan was pretty much like a brother to Y/N, Greyson had been calling him his uncle since he could talk. Every time he referred to Stan as Uncle Stan, the Uris cousins couldn't help but smile, and this was found true yet again as the corners of their mouths perked up slightly at Greyson's words.

"I know, Grey, and I'm sorry. However, it's already almost midnight and we've already been here an hour later than we should've," Y/N said, watching as Greyson winced slightly before giving her a shy grin. "I was hoping you wouldn't notice," Greyson admitted making Y/N chuckle as she looked at her son in adoration. The teen was quick to turn around to face his mother completely, a pleading look on his face as he looked at her. "Please, Mom. Just until we finish the puzzle? Come on."

Stan glanced at his nephew before turning around as well and giving his cousin the same pleading face her son was. The two boys then leaned in together and looked over at Y/N who narrowed her eyes at the two.

"You know I hate when you two do that," Y/N muttered as she fought back the urge to yawn. “That's why they do it," Patty chuckled while Y/N let out a small sigh. "Fine," Y/N gave in causing the two boys to smile and high five each other. "But let's pack the car up first. Then you can come back in here and finish the puzzle before we leave."

"Deal," Greyson agreed before he shot up off of the couch to go grab his things. "Don't finish it without me, Uncle Stan!" "Wouldn't dream of it, kid!" Stan called after him while Y/N watched her son race into the front hall to grab his things. Stan glanced over at his cousin and smiled as she walked over to him. "Some kid you got there, Y/N."

"I got lucky, didn't I?" Y/N whispered with a small yet proud smile on her face that Stan couldn't help but return. "We all did," Stan agreed causing Y/N to look at him. The two cousins smiled at each other and Y/N reached out to ruffle her cousin's hair. Stan was tried to lean away with a playful glare on his face and Y/N merely smiled before heading towards the front door.

"We'll be right back. Try not to miss us too much," Y/N joked as she winked back at Stan. The curly haired boy let out a soft chuckle and put a hand to his chest dramatically. "I shall try my hardest," he joked back and the two cousins chuckled before Y/N disappeared out the front door with Greyson at her side.

Stan shook his head at his cousin's antics before noticing his wife staring at him with a small smile on her face. "What?" Stan questioned, quirking an eyebrow at her amusingly. "Nothing. I just wish I had a bond like you and Y/N had is all. You two aren't even siblings and are closer than I was with any of my brothers," Patty spoke up.

"I've been lucky," Stan sighed. "Y/N may not be my actually sister, but she might as well be. After all, it's always been the two of us. For as long as I can remember, I've always had her." A distant look appeared in Stan's eyes before he smiled and shrugged his shoulders. "I guess we're so close because of how much time we've spent together and what we've been through especially with that son of a bitch she used to call her husband," Stan muttered. He was quick to shake the thought of him off and thought back to Y/N.

For a moment he thought he remembered a glimpse of them riding through town on his bike, her arms up in the air as she laughed and yelled for him to pedal faster all while Stan laughed and tried to pedal as fast as he could. However, the memory was quickly gone and for a moment he felt his hand hurt, but he ignored it. “She's my best friend," he admitted before looking over at Patty who was holding a hand against her chest as if her heart were about to burst from how adorable they were. Stan rolled his eyes playfully at his wife before looking back to his puzzle.

Knowing that was the end of the conversation for now, Patty went back to looking at her computer screen while Stan tried to mentally put the pieces where he thought they should go so that he could help Greyson once he returned.

"Should I just book it?" Patty finally asked, referring to the vacation the couple was wanting to go on. "You sure you can get away from work?" "It's summer. Why not?" Stan asked. "I'm sure Y/N wouldn't mind watering the plants and getting the mail for us. We could even have Greyson do it and maybe even pay him. He's been saving up for that new computer for his writing pieces you know." "Okay. We are Buenos Aires bound," Patty announced excitedly while Stan finally noticed that one of the puzzle pieces was missing. He was quick to look under the table and he sighed at the sight of the piece right underneath.

Stan was quick to get down on the floor to grab it and just when he had latched onto the puzzle piece, his phone began to ring. Stan stayed on the floor and glanced up at his phone through the glass table to see who was calling. However, as soon as his eyes latched onto the caller ID he couldn't help but furrow his eyebrows in confusion.

Maine? Now who could possibly be calling from Maine?

Stan sat up and set the puzzle piece down before picking up his phone and placing it to his ear. "Stanley Uris speaking?" he said. "It's Mike," the person on the other line replied almost instantly and Stan furrowed his eyebrows even more. Mike? "I'm sorry?" Stan said, hoping the man would elaborate more. "Mike Hanlon," the voice said and Stan swore his heart stopped beating completely. "From Derry."

It took but a second for Stan to make the connection of the caller to the Mike Hanlon he had used to be best friend with when he was younger. He had been a homeschooler and Stan suddenly got a flashback of an intense rock war with Henry Bowers and his gang as him, Y/N, and his other friends had saved Mike from the bullying he was receiving.

However, that one memory seemed to open up the gateway for all of his memories, everything snapping back into place in his mind like a puzzle that hadn't been completed in years. Stan could remember everything down to his life when he had lived in Derry, the summers Y/N would spend down there with him, the laughs he had with Bill and Richie and Eddie, the summer Y/N's parents had got a divorce and sent her to stay with him—Stan froze at that.

The summer of 1989. Now that was a memory he wish he still couldn't remember. Although not all of it he wanted to forget. After all, that was the summer he met Mike Hanlon, Beverly Marsh, and Ben Hanscom. That was the summer he and Y/N created a bond that made their friendship as strong as it was today. The bad memories was what he wanted to forget—the Neibolt House, the lady from the painting, It.

"Mike. God, sorry. Yes. Hi. I don't know why I. . .I didn't um. . ." Stan trailed off and it was then that he remembered something that he really wished he hadn't.

The promise.

Stan's blood ran cold at that memory, his whole body so numb that it was like he wasn't there in the moment even though he knew he was. He breathing was shaky and he felt the sudden urge to throw up. All he could feel was fear and he knew exactly why that was. But this couldn't be real. It hadn't been that long had it? There was no way.

"How long has it been?" Stan finally found himself asking, his hand gripping onto his phone tightly as his voice shook. "A long time," Mike admitted and the fact that he didn't tell Stan an exact number was enough to make Stan's stomach drop. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end and Stan gulped as he pulled himself up onto his feet. He wasn't the same thirteen year old from that summer, but for some reason he felt like the Stanley Uris who had been too afraid to walk into the Neibolt without his cousin holding onto his hand.

Maybe if Y/N had been by his side right then instead of out by her car, Stan would've felt better, but for some reason he felt as if he couldn't tell her. They had never spoken about what happened that summer and if Stan hadn't been able to remember until Mike called them Y/N sure as hell didn't remember. He did not need her worrying about that right now, not when she had a kid to worry about.

"Twenty seven years," Mike finally said after a long silence, confirming Stan's suspicions and causing the boy to stumble slightly as he tried to stand back up. Thankfully Patty was too focused on the Buenos Aires trip she was finalizing to notice Stan and for a split second he wanted to tell her to not bother for he had a feeling they would never get to go on that trip together.

"It's come back, hasn't it?" Stan whispered, his voice shakier now so that he knew Mike had to have heard. "That's why you're calling." "It's starting again, Stan. Bad things are happening," Mike admitted while Stan squeezed his eyes shut in disbelief. It was like with each second that passed, he was becoming more and more consumed by his fear. This couldn't be happening. There was no way.

"Did. . .did you call the others? I mean what if. . .what if they don't come back?" Stan questioned, hoping that Mike would say someone wasn't coming and that he could stay home and forget this whole thing ever happened. All he wanted to do was take Patty, Y/N, and Greyson and keep them away from this whole thing. He wanted to keep them in this house, lock all the doors, and refuse to come out. All he needed was to have those three by his side and he would be okay.

"Everyone except for Y/N. But we made a promise, remember?" Mike reminded him, his words causing Stan to feel even more sick than before once he realized there was no getting out of this. He wouldn't be able to just ignore this and his thoughts flickered over to Greyson and Y/N, how Y/N would no doubt go back to make sure everyone was safe and how devastated Greyson would be if anything were to happen to her. Stan knew if anything were to happen to Y/N it would be because of his own cowardice and that was enough to make Stan feel even worse.

"How soon can you get here?" Mike asked. "Well. . .uh. . .I uh. . .I would need to do a few things. I would-" Stan muttered, his eyes closing once again as sheer panic and fear coursed through his veins. "Tomorrow," Mike decided for him and it took all of Stan not to throw up right there. "We don't have much time. I'll text you everything you need. I'll see you soon, Stan the Man."

Stan didn't even have time to respond before Mike had hung up, but the man didn't move and merely kept the phone up limply in the air with his eyes closed, his face pale as he stared blankly at the wall. He didn't even notice when Y/N and Greyson had returned, the teen hurrying over to the puzzle almost instantly while Y/N look to her cousin with a smile.

However, it disappeared at the sight of him and she was quick to go to his side and place a hand on his arm. "Stanley?" Y/N whispered, her soft voice making the man's eyes snap open almost instantly. "Are you okay?" Stan looked to her at that and Y/N blinked in surprise at the look that dawned her cousin's face. She had never seen him this way, never seen him look so afraid. What kind of phone call could make him that scared? "I'm fine," Stan assured her although his shaky voice was enough to make her narrow her eyes slightly at him as she tried to read him.

Stan just gave the girl a small smile which she knew was forced and gently took her hand off of his arm before holding onto it the same way they would hold hands when they were kids. He gave it the smallest squeeze and for a moment Y/N felt as if she were back in Stan's backyard when they were younger. watching birds fly by in the early morning. "Seriously," he whispered and Y/N gave him a look that said she didn't believe him but that she would drop it for now. Stan knew they would have to talk about it eventually if Y/N had any say in it, but little did she knew that they never would.

"Uncle Stan, care to do the honors?" Greyson asked as he looked up to his uncle with a small smile, holding the last puzzle piece up in the air. Any other night Stan would've told Greyson to be the one to finish the puzzle, but he was eager to take the distraction and get away from his cousin's calculating look. He went and sat beside Greyson and Y/N watched as Stan hesitated as he stared at her son, his eyes flickering over Greyson as if he were never going to see him again and was trying to memorize this moment right here. But before Y/N could send him a questioning look, Stan had snapped out of it and was putting the puzzle piece in its place, bringing the puzzle to an end.

It wasn't long after that that the two families found themselves out on the front porch saying goodbye. They were lucky enough to only live a few neighborhoods down, but for some reason Stan acted as if they wouldn't see each other for a long time and that was enough to give Y/N an unsettling feeling that she quickly pushed aside.

"Uncle Stan," Greyson said as he pulled away from Patty's hug to look to his uncle. "I was thinking maybe we could go to the bookstore later this week. You know how my favorite author is that Bill Denbrough guy, right? He's coming out with a movie soon and released a special edition copy of his book The Attic Room that I was wanting to pick up." Stan blinked in surprise, finally putting together why Greyson's favorite author had a name that had sounded so familiar. How had he not realized it before?

Stan suddenly got a memory of looking out the window to see Y/N and Bill walk up to his house hand in hand on the day they had made the promise, the two exchanging a small kiss that left them both with goofy smiles on their faces before Stan had teased his cousin endlessly about them. His eyes instantly flickered over to Y/N, trying to see if any sort of recognition flickered across her face at the mention of her first love, but there was none. She was too busy discussing some last minute things with Patty and hugging his wife to really pay attention and Stan couldn't help but wonder how Y/N would react upon seeing Bill again.

He found himself hoping that Bill wasn't married. After all, Y/N deserved to live a happy life and the Bill he remembered would have done anything to give it to her. If Bill was still the same Bill he remembered, then he would not only be a perfect match for Y/N, but a perfect father figure to Greyson. The thought was enough to put the smallest of smiles on Stan's face despite everything going on and the thought of Y/N, Bill, and Greyson finally getting to live a happy life after It was defeated was the only reassuring thing for Stan at the moment, the only thing keeping him calm.

Stan turned his eyes back to his nephew and smiled as he pulled the boy in for a hug. "Sounds like a plan, kid," Stan told him, knowing that he had to act as if everything were okay. Greyson was quick to hug his uncle back before pulling away, allowing his uncle to ruffle his hair once before he let his mother go to Stan.

Y/N stopped in front of her cousin, her eyes hesitantly flickering over his face as if she were trying to determine if Stan was actually okay or not. Stan could do nothing more than look at the girl, swallowing thickly as he knew she was going to be in for a world of pain and that he wouldn't be able to help her. He wanted to say he was sorry for being so selfish and to explain himself right then and there, but he knew he couldn't. Y/N would try to stop him and then his reckless actions against It would get her killed. So Stan just let himself take in the girl that stood before him as he struggled to hold back the tears that he knew were begging to break free.

Before Y/N could notice that, Stan was pulling her in for a hug, the action making Y/N chuckle and hug him back instantly. There was so much Stan wanted to say, so much he wanted to tell her, but he knew he couldn't. At least not right now.

"I love you," Stan finally decided on saying, the words being a normal between the two but something that held more meaning in that moment than Y/N would ever know. Y/N hugged her cousin harder at that before pulling away to look at the face of her best friend. "I love you too, Stanley," she whispered. "I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?" She tilted her head her so slightly and gave him a grin that made his heart ache.

"Yeah," he told her, nodding despite the heavy feeling in his heart. Y/N smiled softly at that and reached up to ruffle his hair, not knowing it would be her last time. Stan didn't even try and pull away like usual and just enjoyed his cousin's touch before sending her a small smile which she easily returned.

Y/N then pulled away and began to walk down the stairs. All Stan wanted to do was pull her back and hug her again, but he knew it would only make her more suspicious than she already was. So when she turned back to wave at him and Patty one last time, Stan put on a fake smile and waved to her just like he did every other time she left. He would give her no indication that this would be the last time, no reason to hold her back from going to meet with the Losers. Y/N turned and whispered something to Greyson who smiled before wrapping an arm around his mother as they walked to the car. Stan couldn't help but smile at the sight, knowing that the two would be okay as long as they had each other.

And with that, Stanley Uris watched as his cousin got into her car and drove off, knowing that everything he was about to do was only so her and Greyson would be safe in the end.

- - -

"Bill Denbrough," Y/N muttered, confusion evident in her voice as she stared at the book Greyson was currently reading. Greyson's honey brown eyes instantly flickered to her, a small smile on his face as he brushed his brown hair away from his eyes. "Still the best author of all time," Greyson said as he sat down on his bed beside his mother. "His endings aren't the best, but they aren't bad either. I was hoping we could try and go see his new movie when it comes out?"

"Of course we can, kiddo," Y/N assured the boy as she got up and set the book down on his nightstand next to the printed copies of Greyson's work which were really just alternate endings to this Bill Denbrough guy's books, pushing aside her thoughts of how the name sounded so familiar.

That was the moment her phone decided to ring and Y/N sighed before taking her phone out of her pocket. Her eyebrows furrowed slightly at the sight of a number from Maine calling her and she glanced at her son who had already picked the book back up to read.

"I'm gonna take this. I'll come check on you in a little bit, okay?" Y/N said, knowing her son wouldn't be going to bed anytime soon since they had only just gotten back from Stan's. Greyson hummed in response and Y/N was quick to walk out of his room before pressing the accept button and putting the phone to her ear.

"Hello?" she questioned. "Is this Y/N Uris?" a voice asked and Y/N frowned ever so slightly as she walked down the stairs and towards the kitchen to grab something to drink. "This is she. May I ask who is calling?" Y/N asked. "This is Mike," the man explained and just when Y/N was about to question him further, he went on as if he had said it multiple times before. "Mike Hanlon from Derry."

Y/N stopped in her tracks at that and for a brief moment it was like she was standing in the middle of a blizzard, her whole body so cold that she could barely think straight. Her hands began to shake and she could hear her heart beating in her chest. Yet she had no idea why she was so scared all of a sudden. Why was she filled with so much fear? However, the fear began to dim ever so slightly as a sharp pain went through her head, images flashing by as she heard the distant sound of children laughing, remembering the feeling of splashing into water before playing chicken fight with the people she used to call her best friends.

She remembered them all only momentarily starting with the boy she was talking to right now, Mike Hanlon, the boy who had been homeschooled all of his life and who she had saved from Henry Bowers when she threw a rock at his head. She remembered Ben Hanscom, the boy who loved New Kids on the Block and would spend countless hours in the library researching Derry. She remembered Beverly Marsh, the fiery red head who was also the first girl best friend that she had ever had. Then there was Richie Tozier, the boy who liked to flirt way too much and say more crude jokes then one could count but who had a big heart when it counted most. There was Eddie Kaspbrak, the boy who had been like her brother and who she used to calm down during some of his little episodes. Of course there was her cousin Stanley, but she already remembered him.

And then there was Bill Denbrough. No wonder the name had sounded so familiar. She had known him. He had been her best friend and the boy she had crushed on for forever. Her shaky hands went up to her lips and for a split second she remembered a warm September afternoon and the feeling of a soft pair of lips against her own. However it disappeared just a quick, almost as if it were nothing but a dream.

How could she have forgotten about him? How could she have forgotten about any of them? How could she have forgotten about the Losers?

"Mike," Y/N breathed out in disbelief, a smile dawning her face as her fear was pushed to a back burner. "It's been so long. How are you?" "You need to come home," Mike said and Y/N furrowed her eyebrows but kept her smile on her face. "I'm sorry. What?" she questioned. “You need to come home, Y/N," Mike repeated and Y/N's smile fell from her face as the fear suddenly cane back although she didn't know why.

The girl winced as a sudden pain shot through her hand. Y/N quickly glanced down at her hand and didn't understand why she felt so sick at the sight of the scar that ran across her palm. However, she had a sneaking suspicion it was because she hadn't even known she had a scar on her palm up until that moment. "When?" she found herself asking, but she didn't ask the question that she was dying to know the answer to, afraid of what the answer might be despite not knowing it herself. "Tomorrow," Mike replied and there was a long moment of silence as Y/N tried to process everything. She honestly had no clue what was going on, but she knew she had to get to Derry. She wasn't sure why, but she just had a feeling and she knew her fear and queasy stomach would not relent until she was back in Derry.

"I'll be there," Y/N whispered, her voice shaky as she squeezed her throbbing hand shut. "Great. I'll see you there, Y/N," Mike's voice whispered in her ear and Y/N knew she should've been excited to see her friend after so long, but all she felt was another wave of nausea. She didn't even wait for Mike to hang up and did it herself before staring blankly at her phone.

“Fuck.”

- - -

"I don't understand. One of your childhood friends calls you in the middle of the night saying that you have to get to Derry which is in Maine by the way and you're just packing everything up and going?" Greyson questioned in disbelief, his eyes following his mother around the room as she frantically threw stuff into a suitcase. Y/N paused for a just a moment and gave her son a nervous look. "Yes?" she said in a questioning voice before going back to packing. She didn't know how to explain it to her son, how to tell him that she had made a promise that she didn't necessarily remember and that she had to get back. Hell, she didn't even know how to explain to him that one of her childhood friends happened to be the author Greyson admired so much.

"Mom," Greyson said and that was enough to have the woman looking over at him. The sixteen year old was leaning against the doorframe of her bedroom, his brown eyes staring at her in concern as he tried to read her, as he tried to understand despite just how tired he was. Y/N sighed and walked over to the boy who stood up a bit straighter. She gently took his hands in her own and stared at her son before saying, "Greyson, honey, I need you to try and work with me here. I honestly don't know why I'm going, but I have to, okay? It's a gut feeling. You just. . .you got to trust me on this." Greyson was silent for a moment as he stared at her and Y/N could practically see the gears moving in his head before he finally let up and gave her a tiny nod. "I trust you," he assured her and Y/N smiled before leaning forward to press a small kiss to her son's forehead. "Thank you," she whispered. "Now go finish packing your things. You can sleep in the car. It's a long way to Maine from here, kid."

Greyson nodded and was quick to do as his mother said, disappearing up the stairs to finish packing while Y/N rushed back to her own things. It wasn't long before they were loading their things into the car and Y/N had returned to her frantic state once again, completely forgetting about her cousin who had to have been going through the same thing as her at that very moment.

They were on the road less than thirty minutes after the call, but it wouldn't be until they were two hours into the drive that Y/N would realize she left her phone sitting on top of her bed at the house. It was that same phone that now had three missed calls from Patty Uris.

If Y/N had known what was going to happen once she got to Derry, she would've turned around right then. But she didn't, so Y/N just drove down the road, her nerves being enough to keep her awake while Greyson slept soundlessly in the passenger seat beside her.

Neither Uris knew what would be in store for them when they reached Derry and the horrors Y/N had witness twenty seven years earlier? They were nothing compared to what was ahead.

- - -

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