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underratedmurder · 2 years ago

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Richie Jerimovich/Reader "I Would Like a Blanket Please" (Part 1/2)

Reader works at The Beef and is having some housing/financial troubles, Richie offers his apartment as a place to stay! <3

Stuff in this: Soft Richie, Reader is kind of awkward, Soooo many hands on shoulders, They are so sweet and tender with each other, They both know how much the other one is hurting, They are each others comfort person!!! They have some sexual tension, Carmy is totally onto them

Stuff that will be in part two (if you don't want spoilers then just skip past this): Chicken nuggets (hell yeah), Richie when he was in college <3, Reader sleeps on his sofa which is much nicer than his twin bed?, Sharing blankets, Intense cuddling, The softest kisses

I know its been more than a week since my last update I am sorry dear friends, but trust I will deliver !!! Second part should be up tomorrow night or Monday.

Please enjoy, and leave a comment or like if you want to see more/have any requests !

____________

You were sitting on the ground of the walk-in, fingers getting colder, digging into the sleeves of your thick knit sweater. The one Richie called you crazy for wearing in the kitchen, but also one of the last pieces of physical comfort you had left.

Life was… rough, and you were currently struggling to find housing. You just spent your last bit of money on last night's stay in a motel room downtown. You were hoping you could pull through and figure something out by the end of the day… but that time was now, and you had nothing.

You tried to collect your thoughts, breathing hard and freaking out a little bit. Your nerves were getting the better of you, and you had been nothing but filled with tension the whole day.

You breathed in and out, slowly letting your body relax, and your fingers loosen their grip. You looked at the ground intensely, almost studying it, to remind yourself where you were. And to remember that the world wasn’t actually ending, it was just your life! Just yours!

Don’t worry! At least the restaurant is okay!

Even that was an overstatement.

You felt yourself finally come back to the moment.

“Alright well just don’t put it on the stove again Fak! It’s not fuckin rocket science- Oh,” Richie's voice was booming even before he opened the door.

He had snapped you out of your tranquil state immediately, and you could already feel yourself tensing up again. Being around people and trying to act like everything was normal and okay all day was very hard. Especially around Rich. The guy you almost desperately wished to be close to.

The fear was pungent though, you didn’t want to be a burden on anyone, especially on him. You feared getting tangled up with him in any way would only make life more painfully complicated.

These thoughts and feelings did not cross your mind though when you were actually around him in the kitchen, and you got to talk to him and watch him ‘work’, as you fought back the carnal urge to violently makeout with him.

It was far too easy to be comfortable around him, it was only after your shift everyday that you reminded yourself you were not in the position for a relationship.

If he even liked you-

“Hey, uh, what are ya doin' on the floor?” you were back to reality again, and Richie was looking down at you, one arm on the door and the other at his side.

You looked up at him with the most honest and unintended look of pure dread on your face, eyes sad and fearful. His own expression dropped.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?” he lowered his voice and knelt down to look you in the eyes, face to face.

You furrowed your brows and smiled in adoration. His words were somehow instantly comforting.

You shook your head, “It’s nothing. I’m just tired,”

He didn’t look convinced, instead he went to place a hand on your shoulder, his palm was warm in the chill.

“You sure you're ‘aright? You can tell me, ya know? Promise I won’t tell Mr. Crazy Chef,” he joked, referring to Carmy, and you let out a huff.

“Did you spill a giant jar of pickles or somethin?”

“Ha ha,” you said sarcastically, a half smile escaping your somber expression. Though, it didn’t last long.

Richie dropped to your level on the floor, sitting next to you.

You shook your head again, looking down.

“Its just been a long day,” you hesitated, but Richie just waited.

“Things have been… hard,” you let your words out with an exhale, your arms and legs becoming a bit less stiff.

“Home troubles?”

“Yeah,” you half whispered, fiddling with your fingers as that last bit of tension escaped you.

“Yeah… I get it,” he said with a sigh, and he let his head lean on the wall.

You sat there in silence for a second, the humming of the freezer accompanying your barely audible breaths.

“I take it you don’t wanna go back huh?” he asked you, turning his head to look at you.

You furrowed your brows and looked at him puzzled.

“Back home, I mean,” he clarified.

You put it together he assumed your home life wasn’t very good. Which technically it wasn’t, just not in the way he expected.

Obviously, you hadn’t alluded to anything else.

You nodded, barely mumbling another yeah, as to not embarrass yourself, though you could feel yourself getting there.

You leaned back against the metal shelf, tilting your head back and running your fingers by your scalp.

You half smiled at him, afraid to look into his eyes for too long or you might get lost in them.

“You know you can stay with me if you want?”

“What?” you blurted.

“If yur really not feelin like… goin back tonight, you can crash at mine. I got plenty o’ room,”

“Are you serious?”

“Course I am, I’m not an asshole,”

“Well…” you grinned and looked at him cheekily.

“Shush, I aint no fuckin asshole aright? I can be nice,” he expressed with his hands, signature of a pointed Richie opinion.

“Yeah like now?” you joked, your arms hooked around your knees as you leaned forward again.

“You don’t have to come over if you don't wanna-”

“I do,”

Richie stopped and looked at you, surprised and… relieved by your answer?

“I do, want to,”

He opened his mouth to say something, but the longer he looked at you it seemed he couldn’t come up with anything. He smiled a little bit instead, a pleasant sight. His cheeks just a bit pink.

“Well, then we better get goin’, it’s ‘bouta be closing and I don’t recommend staying overtime,”

He popped up from the floor, lending his hand for you to grab and propel you up.

“I already work overtime, Richie,” you reminded him as he brought you to your feet.

“Right uh, I really should get Carm to pay you more for that,”

“You should,” you said, nodding a bit and just barely smiling, it seemed to be something neither of you could stop doing.

“Consider it out of my paycheck. A little catch up in your check for this week. I’ll get Carm to fix it tomorrow, promise,”

You nodded, then looked down, grateful but also a bit guilty. Anything out of Richie's pocket could basically be considered right out of the restaurant. Richie seemed to catch your worried look.

“You ‘aright?” he let a hand rest on your shoulder, leaning over to get a look at you.

You nodded, sheepishly, but Richie just held onto your other shoulder.

“You sure?” you made eye contact, and willed yourself to reassure him.

“Yeah,” you nodded, and he let go.

“Kay, let’s get outta here,” he sighed, opening the door to the giant fridge.

“I promise you won’t regret this. I've got a nice 50 inch flatscreen, the most shining bathroom you’ve ever seen, and a pretty damn good bed,” He said, his eyes bright still but his face smug, until he caught your expression and dropped his own.

“That’s not what I uh…,”

“What’s goin on here cuz?” Carmy rounded the corner,

“Nothin, we’re just headin out,”

“We?” He looked at Richie, incredulous.

“Y/n was uh-”

“I’m staying at Richie's tonight. Just a temporary thing, my parents are having some friends and relatives over right now and I’m not really into opening the can o’ worms that is my life and career at the family function,” you chuckled nervously. You thought of the lie quicker than you were proud of, but knew it might resonate with Carm.

“Yeah no, that's… fine. Yeah, I uh, I understand,” he paused, ”I get it,”

He looked you both up and down, and it was only then that you noticed you were standing so close together your arms were touching. In the time the conversation started, neither of you made an effort to move away from the other.

His brows raised, “Have fun you two,” he smirked and turned to leave.

“Very funny, Carm. Fuck you too!” Richie called after him,

“Hope your playdate goes well!” he called back, just barely audible.

“What a dick,” Richie mumbled.

Remove the word ‘play’ from that sentence and the prospect of your staying over completely changed. Though you wondered, if the word 'play' really insinuated anything else, if not… other activities that could happen at a potential hangout. Was the word ‘play’ in ‘playdate’ in the context of two adults being around one another really any more appropriate than just simply saying date?

“Don’t listen to him,” Richie assured you, blue eyes wide and totally in your face.

You snapped out of zoning out, eyes flitting from the spot on Richie's neck where they rested.

“Sure,” you said half mindlessly, nodding your head and scrunching your nose.

“We are just two coworkers, who are going to one person's apartment, where we will do regular coworker things,” Richie stressed, as you two made your way to the back door, expressing it all with his hands and arms.

“Mhm mhm,” you nodded your head again, walking quickly, but not forgetting to swipe your bag of stuff from off the floor by the lockers.

“Like… sleeping,” he exclaimed a little too loudly, and you both paused in the doorway as soon as he said it.

“That keeps coming out wrong, doesn’t it?” he looked down, and then up at you, smiling a little bit.

He needed to stop doing that, it was starting to become addicting to watch.

“Yeah, it does,” you said with a sympathetic look of worry and also amusement.

“Yeah,” he flattened his mouth, his hands landing on his hips.

“I think maybe you should just stop talking about it for a bit,” you suggested.

“Yeah you're right, you're right. It’s a little weird huh?” he looked side to side, then down at the ground again, scratching his neck.

“I mean, not weird. Just a little, odd,”

“Just a little?” he looked up, smile growing on his face and cheeks still very pink.

“Just a little!” you chimed, and it looked like his eyes were smiling before his lips could.

“Yeah… good on ya babe. I should keep my mouth shut more often”

“Maybe not, completely shut?”

“Ah,”

“But just… mostly, shut,” you let your mouth curl into a smile.

“Right. Like a ventriloquist,” he offered, smiling back, a bit bashful.

“Yes, like a ventriloquist. Exactly,” you grinned and rubbed the space between your brows, he laughed a little.

You laughed as well, just barely, air escaping your nose and mouth. You exhaled, and let your smile fade with his. You both paused, eyes meeting in the comforting silence. Richie's mouth parted, before he clicked his tongue.

“My uh, my car is just at the end of the lot,” he grinned,

“Right yes, lets go to that,”

“As you wish,” he swayed his hand out in front of him.

You simply smiled, and walked past him down the step to outside. He stopped before he could even walk forward.

“Wait, hold up. I gotta get my jacket… I’ll be right back,”

“Yeah, sure,”

He turned towards the lockers but promptly turned right back around.

“Do you need anything? You got all your stuff?”

“Yep! It’s just my bag,”

“Okay, alright, cool,”

He disappeared down the hall, and you turned to face the cold, all too familiar with the chill on your skin. You watched your breath in the air, as you exhaled, trying to slow the rising tempo of your heart. You hoped Richie's place was warm. You hoped he was warm.

“Alright!” you jumped a bit, but met him with kind eyes.

“Let's get this show on the road,”

#richie jerimovich #the bear #ebon moss bachrach #richie jerimovich x reader #the bear fanfiction #The Bear fandom please accept me

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carmenized-onions · 1 year ago

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Yap sheet live and in color pt 2!! Um ily this is so fun im actually having such a good week and the fact that U updated also just makes it even better 🫶🫶🫶 also i think to maybe see if it doesn't make the ask so super long on like feeds imma try this with no spaces between maybe idk

1.) This is literally from the tags i haven't even started reading, but hurt,,, some comfort??? UGH okay off i go

2.) WAIT THE OTHER SHOE THING IS SO FUCKING BRILLIANT ONION WTF

3.) Lowk forgot i was doing this for a sec bc im waiting for water to boil cause im making dinner rn BUT OH BOY DID THIS BRING IT BACK FOR ME

CARMY CALLING RICHIE A DEAD BEAT MAN ILL BEAT UP THAT LITTLE RAT BOY i love him so much it hurts but ill kick his ass fr like just bc ur hurting doesnt mean u make everyone else hurt (even tho thats how he was raised :< anyways thats 1 L for carm major L

4.) YEAHH RICH FUCKING SPEAK ON IT SPEAK ON ITTTT oh uh oh not tony catching strays rip us. Double uh oh coming from carmy. Also carmy thats another L don't do richie like that :<

5.) I fucking love you :< AND THEN FOR HIM TO SAY RICHIE IS NOTHING LIKE FUCK RIGHT AWF L MAJOR L

6.) Yk what this chapter is going to be endless Ls for carm i can already tell but :< the whole oh are you gonna fix him too?? Like I can just feel and see like the hurt radiating off of him thru the screen like he's clearly so affected by all the stuff he saw but :< thats still not an excuse CARMEN

7.)The fact that Tony feels like she needs to prove herself, that she can take it, makes me very :<

8.) Also like I'm intrigued bc it almost feels like more than Tony just not charging them for the services out of like the goodness of her own heart or guilt over not being there for mikey like i originally thought like theres something else going on there i am ✨️confused✨️

9.) Noooo not Tony thinking she did something wrong :<<<

10.) i fear im going to jump off a bridge at this rate bc WAAAAAAA carmy is obviously so upset and he CLEARLY doesnt know how to handle that he IS SO ME

11.) MAJOR L MAJOR L

carmy im coming for you count your days that was so uncalled for Carmen what the FUCK onion im coming for u bc I just know I would be sobbing on the floor if carmen said that to me like especially bc Tony very obviously blames herself already :<

12.) Okay my noodles are done so BUT im mildly confused is all this carmy pov happening right after he yelled actually i just glanced back and yes it is and i will say i am glad carmy is at least A LITTLE self aware and that he's completely off the rails anyway

13.) :< i want my comfort neow right neow onion this is making me so sad (im on like point 7) also verbal confirmation that tony is crying like this isnt even a carmy specific L this is just an L

14.) Carmy just major self loathing makes me sad like yes he did this to himself but also like this is just the only way hes ever been shown how to express himself and ugh this better end with him going to therapy (i know it wont)

15.) Um so i read all of tonys thing just now i think uh anyway im gonna kms now tony thinks he hates her :< i really want my comfort now

16.) I know carmy doesnt deserve comfort but also i think he does a little is that too much to ask for

17.) Also the whole heart to heart with Richie makes me so :< i dont have a lot of coherent notes to write except for :< like im very :< right now

18.) Also i LOVE that tony is going to go to the fucking eras tour with richie and eva i LOVE that anyway um ACK ACK ACK

19.) ALSO ALSO ALSO like UGHHHH richie telling tony its not her fault mikey died and them commiserating is so fucking AGH

20.) STOP THE BANTER wait pause

21.) firstly um tony STILL looking out for carmy warms my heart thats fucking cold bc u KILLED ME anyway

22.) Right. UGHHHHH the banter has me just a touch :> bc like syd and tony dogging on richie is so :>. But overall im still :<.

23.) Stop not mikey thinking that tony and carmy would be a good match :< also like i feel like that *kinda* confirms that tony and mikey didnt have a thing bc why tf would he say that if they ever did but anyway

ONION TONY AND CARMY BETTER FUCKING TALK IN THE NEXT ONE IM SO FUCKING SERIOUS

As always i adore you and your writing even if i almost sobbed reading this one there were actual tears in my eyes and i never ever ever cry reading stuff or consuming media so fuck you so hard for that one

🫶🫶🫶 till next time pookie

LETS. GET. INTO ITTT.. Yap Sheet from Just Dropped, I'm excited to hear your thoughts on Something to Do!! Unless you already did-- And I'm just real fuckin slow to churn through my inbox.

THE NO SPACES SEEMED TO HAVE WORKED??? I hope that was easy for you, on your end-- If it's not, simply destroy people's pages it's fine we ball.

I did the.... some comfort because I was like... It does definitely hurt-- Comfort wise, it's definitely there, but you just don't really get it from the person you want it from, yknow?

AND THANK YOU-- I was very happy, when I realized the silly other shoe bit I could do. fun hat trick on my part.

DEAD BEAT BROOOO-- I can't remember if I added that or if it was in the original dialogue. I think I added it? I remember needing a transition line, to get into it-- It was like the Carmen equivalent of Richie's okay donna-- WOOF

I'll just do one point, for the Richie side of the fight, as I the writer don't have much to say about it but yeah it was-- Shit was brutal. It was very interesting to look at the freezer fight again with the perspective of Tony in mind and going,,,, huh,,,, they could both be talking to her, in this. The You're Nothing really also-- I wonder if Carmen will ever actually say that to someone, in canon. I don't think he could. But also they might just be saving it for the biggest explosion.

Writing Carmen's dialogue for this was very tough and interesting, for me-- Because like-- With the information he had, I kinda got it. Like yes 100% self-destructive tendencies but also I think I could sympathize with like, essentially him thinking he was basically some sort of manic pixie to be fixed by Tony. He was wrong, but like-- I get the concern. He shoulda voiced it better but I get him.

YEAAHHHH, YEAAHHHH Tony before this chapter for the most part I think only displayed the good/quirky parts about being the anxious helpful hero type, and this chapter and onward I think really got into the genuinely self-destructive behaviours of her thinking she needs to be able to take shit.

There was in fact, something going on there. With the invoice. LMAO. Tony's nice but she understands the power of a dollar

The repeated 'did i do something wrong' across multiple chapters-- Fuckin, in anything 'did i do something wrong' will always fucking get my ass. Like it's just so. It's. I'm, I'm fuckin sweatin just thinking about it. It always hurts.

CARMEN MAJOR L MOMENT ABSOLUTE L.

It's funny that while writing that line, I had always planned for that line to be like, the spinebreaker but I was worried, when I had actually put it to paper, that readers were somehow not gonna think it was that bad. I'm glad everyone thought it was horrifically bad. He fucked up there.

I won't comment much on Carmen's POV because there's some surprises I have in stock, for you, with that-- But I do agree. I think Carmen is typically slow to realize he fucked it-- But when it's something like that and everyone has a volatile reaction-- He's gonna know immediately that it's over.

Here's the thing, I can't show you any lines from the next chapter, because literally every single line is a spoiler for what the chapter is. but I've realized actually I can show you an old draft-- This was from the original list of the seven things.

I took this out, inevitably, but I did really like the idea of like... Realizing that this moment isn't just a now fuck up, it's a forever fuck up.

14. both of those fuckers went right on the self-loathing train. What could we expect from them? Choo choo, mf.

16. I hate to tell you this. He's gonna have a terrible time. I'm not letting that motherfucker catch a break. You'll see what I mean, in time.

17. WHY'S THE HEART TO HEART MAKE YOU FROWN--- I mean I get it but like BITTERSWEET RIGHT? RIGHT? ANYONE?? IS THIS THING ON?? Do you think the writers knew when they wrote season 2 and Richie getting Swift tickets they knew those things were gonna be like 3000 dollars a pop. I feel like they didn't. I like to go back and read this bit, from time to time. I just really like Richie and Chip. Am I a Rich/Chip believer? Honestly. A little bit I think. I have a wandering eye. I think.

21. Tony will always look out for Carm. It's so lame. get UP girl be PETTY-- HAUNT HIS ASS!!! DO A HAUNT!!!!

23. I love that you say kinda. I love that know one trusts me with a slight confirmation. I have poisoned the water mistrust and I love that.

I'M HONOURED TO GET YA MISTY-- MEANS A LOT, I hope you enjoy/enjoyed the next one. Love you fuck you sorry not sorry at all my bad your fault hugs and kisses THANK YOU BYYYYEE

#yapping #extensive yapping #ask #catsrdabestsocks101

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freedelusionshere · 4 months ago

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In her retelling of her experience with Sheridan Road to Carmy, she talks about not being able to say “no” to the mean pasta lady, too, right? This woman who insisted on catered pre-cooked pasta being delivered.

I can’t imagine her starting her own business and not having a plan. Because Syd loves to plan and think ahead and be prepared. Maybe she was trying to do all the cook herself and manage everything else on top of that?

Or maybe the Syd we meet is someone who learned her lesson and wants to “fix” The Beef just as much as Carmy, as a way to have a do over of Sheridan the right way? As a way to regain her voice again.

Carmy takes over how they cook and also tries to figure out how the hell Mikey was running everything and stubbornly tries to fix all of it, immediately turning away Cicero’s offer to buy him and Nat out (which Nat is pissed about, among other things).

Carmy only tried to hire someone to stage at The Beef and gets Syd who, like Carmy, has this same level of drive and experience in fine dining. Syd left other fine dining places because she didn’t feel seen and heard. That’s probably why she started Sheridan Road, to have her own POV expressed. She talks almost dreamily about that ragu (my headcanon is it’s her mom’s recipe).

There could still be some stuff there we don’t know yet. Because the show makes a point to say Syd does have family who will offer her a job, but doing something she doesn’t want to do (kinda mirrors Cicero giving Richie a job in Fishes). There’s maybe a whiff of disapproval about being a chef there?

Did Syd try to do it all on her own? I don’t think that’s possible, and when she builds the outdoor kitchen at The Beef, she directs people easily about how to build it with her. We also know she worked with very thin margins, because mean pasta lady was enough to send her business under.

Carmy has zero experience with thin margins until he comes back to The Beef. He was shut out of The Beef and went on immediately to work in fine dining because of his family connections. Where almost all the chefs had Michelin stars. He gets an award at a young age, but the show doesn’t tie it to a dish. But the show makes sure we know before he got to Empire he dreamed a lot and was inspired.

I believe the only thing that we’ve seen Carmy make that was of his own invention was the blood orange hamachi dish Syd ate. And even then, we see him being taught the techniques that go into it from other chefs. Syd, similarly, makes the cola ribs and risotto dish (after dreaming about it) that Carmy dismissed. All her other dishes aren’t complete (the pasta with the verde sauce, whatever she was making with Tina which I believe Carmy was trying to “fix” in S3 but couldn’t crack it, either).

They both only start being inspired again creatively when they meet each other. Syd desperately wants to collaborate and Carmy is afraid to. That’s how you know Carmy has finally opened up, just like Syd puts up walls emotionally which I believe is the reason Carmy started going out with Claire, he felt like he misread Syd’s interest, or after their flirting her “You’re sending me home?” made him realize “oops, you’re her boss”.

In S3, Syd is saying she’s his accomplice but it’s doing the same shit she agreed to in S1 because she didn’t tell him “no” about the Brigade. And then she left and came back and then sprung on him she wanted the star in S2. They don’t really know how to do this differently and they both fell back into the trap of recreating their own experiences at other fine dining places which is what stifled all of their creativity in the first place.

Being artistic and trying to get paid sucks, btw, it takes a lot of thought and energy to be creative. It takes tons of labor and time. Something we see that they really don’t have a lot of because they’re always struggling to make money.

They were the most creative together before the restaurant had reopened and then Carmy sabotaged it. But he starts drawing again and does it for Syd. Unfortunately Syd is hella frustrated with him at this point and is just going through the motions to get the star and thinking of leaving again, but I don’t think she will or if she does it won’t be for long.

She will be able to tell Shapiro “no”. I don’t think Syd is afraid to tell Carmy “no” - she called him a POS to his face. She’s afraid to say “yes” all the way. He is afraid of losing her more than the restaurant failing, I think.

They are both trapped in prisons of their own design but they haven’t fully shown us Syd’s perspective and confirmed what is keeping her there.

SYDNEY AND THE BEAR: ANOTHER SINKING SHIP

I do not think the show intends to tell us that Sydney's character development is to learn to "not give up when things get hard." I recently watched a TikTok of this woman talking about Sydney accepting responsibility for the Bear going the way it has, and how she taking the Shapiro offer would be like running away from her problems.

Now, interestingly, the only extended portion of her past that we know about is another business failing. But I wouldn't say she gave up on that when things got hard. I actually interpreted it like she didn't know when to stop holding on to a sinking ship.

Her credit got ruined, and she lost her apartment. If she had been realistic about what she could achieve on her own, she would have taken it slowly and maybe paused when she was more stable financially, but she didn't because she was too eager (I think) to prove herself that she wasn't a failure.

Truthfully, Sydney doesn't have more responsibility in The Bear sinking than anybody else in that restaurant. Carmen's journey is becoming a parallel to Michael's. The whole S3 was about the staff, especially Carmen's family, enabling him or making things worse.

Sydney accepted that she had failed to stand up to Carmen; she said, "I am an accomplice," because, yes, she is, and so is everybody else. She hasn't signed the partnership agreement because she doesn't want to be in an enterprise like that; she knows that signing now is saying that she is alright with all that. She wants to make a difference. But at some point, staying beside somebody is not a guarantee of them ever growing,

So, no, Sydney's arc is not about "enduring the bad stuff" but learning to stand up for herself and what she wants. It is about growing up and realizing that only she can make her dreams a reality. Is about confronting the ugly and the painful and bringing it all front.

She will reject Shapiro's offer because, at the end of S3, she realizes she cares a lot about these people. They are her family, and she will be a good captain and stand with her crew while the ship is sinking. Because that's what she wanted, she was a lonely kid who wanted a place to belong. As she told Luca, after enduring that bad stuff, you can have proof that it was worthy, that it was good. That's beautiful, she found her people.

She will ensure everyone is squared up, and eventually, she will confront Carmen, too. Personally, her capacity to stand up to him is essential for me to be okay with them being together.

But she hasn't failed because she doesn't have the eggs to get through the bad stuff.

Little sideline: I keep getting mad at people giving her shit for quitting at the end of 1x08; Carmy was also at fault for that fuck up, she told him to wait to go live, and he was too worked up in the review that he ignored her. If they had the chance to check before like she wanted, that error would have been caught. I worked in restaurants, I get it, but sometimes walking out is the only power you have left to bad managers or policies. In a show about the cost of enduring and justifying toxicity, Sydney walking out is entirely on theme.

Her patience with the staff in s3 has been an indication of her determination to not to let this ship sink. She has told Carmy to calm the fuck down. She is the anchor of all these people. (sorry, a lot of ship metaphors).

Her creative block is also a metaphor for this. She has the brains and determination to become a star. She just hasn't heard her voice yet (therefore, she cannot create original concepts for menus without using Carmy as a reference, and Carmy cannot be anybody's point of reference right now).

I suspect she hasn't found her artistic voice because she is actually afraid of finding it (because of trauma or just the way society feeds young women who want to go into the arts).

#sydcarmy #the bear meta #they are so similar

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imagineandimagine · 2 years ago

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Burning chapter 2

Pairing: Carmy x reader

Warning: Some slightly sexy stuff

Chapter 2: Bare Bear

“Not another word” you said looking at Richie who was smiling like an idiot during your journey home.

Richie was unfazed “So… what happened?”

“Nothing happened. We just talked.”

“Right… “ he looked at you skeptically with his eyebrow raised, “ If he keeps walking around shirtless you might accidently castrate him,” he laughed loudly.

You could feel your cheeks burning from shame.

He punched your arm, “Hey! Cheer up! He’d have to have his danglies out for that…”

That was the last straw, “Shut up! Shut up! SHUT UP!”

The entire subway car was looking at you after that outburst.

You covered your face with your hand.

Richie got the reaction he wanted, “Don’t worry ladies and gentlemen! She’s in heat!” he announced to the entire car.

You punched him in the arm.

“Ow! Calm down, it’s not my fault my cousin makes you horny.”

“Shut up you idiot! I’m getting off on the next stop!”

“Oh, come on! I’m only teasing.”

You turned your back to him putting on your headphones.

Richie huffed pretending to be annoyed “So you can tease my cousin by walking around braless but I’m not even allowed to talk about it?”

You shot out of the car the moment the doors opened.

You were paranoid every time you saw Richie talking to Carmy. That pervert better not be talking about me to Carmy. You thought to yourself.

You were brought back to reality when Sydney tapped your arm. “Hey, y/n. You’ve been acting really weird lately. Is everything okay?”

You glanced in her direction but you did not know how to answer that.

Sydney looked at you intently, “Is it Carmy?”

You froze, “What?”

“Has he been a jerk to you?” Sydney asked.

“No! Not at all! Quite the opposite!”

Sydney frowned, “The opposite? What do you mean?”

“I…” yet again you did not know what to say but the way Sydney’s expression changed after your last sentence she probably had her own theories about what that meant.

“Oh. Oh! Ick! So that’s why you’re constantly staying behind to ‘help him clean’ “

“No! It’s nothing like that!” you softened your voice to a whisper “He doesn’t even know I like him.”

Sydney wrinkled her nose, “So… you do like him?”

You groaned, “I’m such a dumbass. “

“Having a crush on your boss? Yeah, you’re definitely a dumbass. But don’t worry, I won’t tell him.”

“Thanks…” you mumbled.

After your talk with Sydney and your daily banter with Richie, you kind of felt like you were under a microscope whenever you interacted with Carmy. Which resulted in you doing your best to avoid him unless it was completely necessary.

“Can I talk to you?” Carmy asked, signaling for you to follow him.

Welp, there goes that plan. You nodded and you followed him to the alleyway in the back of the restaurant.

Carmy leaned against the wall, fidgeting with his unlit cigarette, “Have I done something to upset you? It kind of seems like you’ve been avoiding me lately.”

You were taken aback by his question, “No! I mean…yes…I mean… no! Not exactly.”

Carmy watched you struggle with a quizzical look, hoping you’d say something more.

“I…don’t know…” What did he want you to say? ‘I am distracted whenever I see you half naked but also don’t stop taking your shirt off because I think you’re so hot and I just want to lick ice cream off your chest?’

The long silence was making Carmy uneasy, so he stepped closer to you, now standing right in front of you, “Is there anything I can do to make you feel more comfortable?” he looked deeply into your eyes as he said it.

It took all you willpower not to crumble under the weight of his mercilessly blue eyes. “I just want ...”

Suddenly the door swung open and Richie popped up, “Cousin! If you’re done flirting there is a customer that wants to talk to you.”

Carmy sighed with annoyance, “Can it wait?”

Richie was about to say something but a full plate of food came flying past his ear and crashed against the wall, splashing both you and Carmy with tomato sauce.

“For the love of… “ Carmy gave you an apologetic look before he ran inside.

You sighed a sigh of both relief and disappointment, while shaking some of the sauce off your sleeve.

“Is there anything I can do to make you feel more comfortable?” Richie mocked.

You shot Richie an angry look, “You were eavesdropping!?”

“Hey! Hey! It’s my business to know where the head chef is. I need to know if the two are buuuusy.” Richie started to touch his body suggestively as he made kissy noises.

“ I hate you so much!” you said shoving him to the side as you entered.

You didn’t feel like riding the subway with Richie that day so you volunteered to stay behind and help Carmy clean.

“Have fun you two!” Richie winked at the both of you.

You couldn’t really read Sydney’s expression but it kind of looked like she was suspicions of the reason why you wanted to stay.

Once everyone left you set to work.

An hour later you heard Carmy mumbling something under his breath. “Shit! Shit Shit! I forgot to ask Richie if I could… damn it!”

You stopped what you were doing, “What is it?”

“I forgot that they were going to turn the water off in my building today because of some renovations and there are literally pieces of meatball in my hair.” He said taking something red out of his hair and tossing it in the trash “I was going to ask Richie if I could come over and shower…”

“You can come over to mine, it’s no trouble. You can shower and just stay over since it’s already really late.” you couldn’t believe that you managed to say all of that so casually.

“Really? If it’s no trouble… It’s okay if you say ‘no’. I don’t have to stay over, I can just shower and…”

You shook your head reassuringly “Carmy! Carmy! It’s fine. Sure you can come over.”

“Thank you.” He said somehow looking more nervous than relieved.

You couldn’t believe what was happening. Was Carmy really coming over to your house? Despite all your fantasies about what you were going to do with Carmy in the evening, you were just too exhausted to do anything after the service. You made sandwiches that you gobbled up, you had a quick shower and the moment your head hit the pillow you were asleep. Carmy respectfully stayed out of your way making himself scarce even though that definitely wasn’t want you wanted, but you were way too tired to think of a way to lure him into your bedroom. You didn’t even know if you had the courage to do any “luring”. But the next morning was a completely different story…

You woke up to the sound of running water. Your first thought was Intruder! but then you remembered that you had a guest. You tiptoed next to the guestroom and you peaked inside. To your shock and utter delight you got a glimpse of Carmy’s bare ass. You quickly turned away knowing that you shouldn’t have done that, but…it was a complete accident, you convinced yourself. Wait… maybe he wanted you to see…Whether he wanted you to see or not, you decided to give him his privacy so you went back to your room feeling horny as ever. You had a quick shower (in the bathroom that was connected to your bedroom) and when you heard Carmy walking around your apartment you had a wicked plan.

You ran to your lingerie drawer only wearing a towel, My skimpiest lace lingerie it is…you said to yourself.

You opened your door just enough so that Carmy could get a peek into your room and it opened with a loud creeeeek! as if the door was announcing “Step right up folks and look in here!”. You decided to give Carmy a little show, whether he wanted to look or not was up to him. You felt like it was only fair that if he was walking around shirtless, you had the right to do some teasing of your own. With your back turned to the door, you could see what was happening behind you in a small mirror you had on your dresser. The moment you saw some movement in the mirror, you let the towel drop to the floor. You heard a muffled gasp behind you. You couldn’t resist smiling as you slowly started pulling up your panties, swaying your hips as you adjusted the waistband. Playing with the lace on your bra after you put it on, never giving him a good look of all your goods in the front, he would have to earn that, for now he would have to be satisfied with his imagination. Then you started putting on your black stockings tentatively slow. You could have sworn that you heard a hushed “Fuck”. When you were fully dressed, the moment you stepped out of your room you heard the door to the guest bathroom shut. A few minutes passed before Carmy came out of that bathroom and somehow he seemed kind of sweaty.

You made the both of you breakfast, Carmy started apologizing profusely about his long shower, saying that the least he could have done was make you breakfast. “Thank you so much. This looks amazing! I’ll make you something next time.”

“Next time?” you asked with a grin.

Carmy made a I fucked up face,“I don’t mean…! If there is a next time. I mean, if they cut off my water again...”

There he was, backtracking again after he said something you actually wanted to hear. Uuuugh.. just take me on this table right now!

“What time is it?” Carmy asked with his mouth full of scrambled eggs.

You lazily looked at your phone and then your eyes grew wide, “Shit!”

“Shit!?” Carmy repeated in alarm.

We have to go! You said grabbing your sandwich and stuffing it in your mouth.

You could NOT be late! You were never late! And neither was Carmy! How would it look if the only time you turned up late, you turned up late TOGETHER.

#the bear #carmy berzatto #carmy

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vvanini · 4 years ago

Photo

They were supposed to be cloud gazing but Richie is too busy melting in Bill’s arms

#oh god he is so in love look at his face #if this guy tells you to follow him into the sewers you follow him into the sewers #bill denbrough #richie tozier #bichie #it fanart #my art #richie wants his love #and his revenge #and he doesnt wanna be friends #im kidding bye #this is what i fucking meant in that previous post #FFFFFFFFFF #this is so sick #i know this is my own stuff but richies expression makes me feel #jus #just #ahhhh man #like

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fandomtransmandom · 3 years ago

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TW/CW: Trauma, Mental Illness, Mental Health, Self-Criticism, Schizoaffective Disorder, Mania, Bullet mention, Food. (In video: Alcohol mention, Food mention, Diet discussion. Mortality/Death references.)

I broke two million words on AO3!

So it’s time for another rambling personal post. Since I began sharing my work in July of 2020, I’ve learned a lot:

-What it’s like to live in near constant fear of criticism about the (296 and counting…) stories I hold dear, and still leave them up for anyone to read and comment on. Please, please be kind!

-The value of friendship. Everyday I am mystified as to how I have multiple friends. Which probably sounds pathetic, but to me it’s joyous. I’ve also learned the importance of cutting people out of my life for the sake of my own boundaries.

-How to process my trauma through narrative and the immense feeling of purpose I experience when someone trusts me to weave their history and hurts into a request.

-The importance of routine for my mental health. Doing the math, I wrote an average of 2,293 words a day. Now that’s a far cry from the 7,000+ I cranked out during the first six months, (thanks ✨mania✨) But still, I stuck with it. I don’t work because I have schizoaffective disorder and my symptoms make things like going out and interacting with others difficult, but I try to treat writing like a job to establish structure in my life.

-To challenge negative thinking. Especially when it comes to comparing myself with others and setting unrealistic standards. I know I’ll never be the best writer. I may have a shot at most prolific in the fandom, ha, but art is subjective. I almost always use OCs and write from third person POV, which many people dislike. But I am learning to be okay with that. Because ultimately, I love, love, LOVE writing. I love Bill and Conan. I love whiling away hours in daydreams until pieces of plot slide into place. Sitting behind the keyboard, completely unaware I’m typing and losing myself in Barry’s bullet-ridden angst, or silly and saucy Richie smut. So even if no one reads my fics, I will continue to write. Because in the words of my beloved Conan:

“The goal for me has always been–when I feel down, or I’m losing my way, or ‘what’s the point?’–is I want to make stuff I’m proud of. I want to make as much of it as I can while I’m alive.”

To celebrate, I bought a little five inch ice cream cake and coincidentally I got this Milo Dean-inspired tattoo a few days ago. Behind my ear because, as Bill said, “The voice in your head is wrong,” and I need that reminder.

In addition to the friendships and lessons, writing also brought me a wonderful partner. And for the holidays/our two year anniversary, she got me a Cameo from Jordan Schlansky! See below. What a hilarious and amazing gift! Guess @martymcdie88mph’s various tasks include being the raddest girlfriend ever.

I think that’s all for now. Before I start another steamy Conan one-shot, I want to thank everyone who’s read my stories, left kudos, commented, and made requests. I truly can’t express how indebted I am to you all for your kindness and support. Your praise keeps me going and helps me counter the cruel thoughts bogging me down. I especially want to thank the handful of friends who read consistently and fuel me with compliments. Not sure if any of you would want to be tagged in this post, so I’ll refrain. But you know who you are and I love you.

And though I pray Bill and Conan are never exposed to the horrorshow of my AO3 account or my existence in general, I hope they’re aware of the happiness their brilliance, humor, and beauty provide. The love. Because without these tall, blue-eyed, assless comedy men, I wouldn’t be here. Neither would these two million words.

So thank you, fellas. I owe you everything. Until the next million rolls around...🧡

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intoduskoutofdawn · 4 years ago

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Jessy needs a favor (part 1)

Jessy, Phil x MC piece

| So this is(not the first I have written) but the first one, that was ready enough. ;) English is not my first language, so there might be mistakes. This could have one or two other parts, I am just not sure yet. Thank you Everbyte for the Inspiration!|

Warnings: swearing, smoking, a hardly tracable naughtiness (?)

________

„Arrgh!“ you growl angry at the mirror, as your hair just keeps refusing your will. You sigh and just stuff it into a bun. Doesn't matter now anyway since you are already late for your first course. You run into the kitchen to get your sweater and knock over your coffee cup as you reach over the table. Great job, MC! Cursing yourself, you hurry to wipe up the mess. As you put your sweater half way on your phone starts buzzing, you run to get the call as you see Jessys name on the display.

“Hey Jess...Ouch!”

“Good morning, MC. Hey, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just stumbled over my shoes. I'm having a hell of a morning here...So what's up?”

“Sorry to hear about your morning. Are you on your way out?”

“Yeah, college...” Jessy paused and you already suspect, that she needed to ask you a favor and you instantly have to smile as she starts -

“MC, I have to ask you something. I think I did something...stupid”

“What is it, Jess?”

“Well I promised my brother that I would help him at the bar tonight, since it's gonna be busy there. But now I realized, that we get a delivery at the garage early in the morning and I can't leave Richy hanging.” She paused again. Too bad, but you also know her well enough to know that there is more to that.

“As I told Phil that I couldn't help him out, I felt so bad and I kinda told him that I am gonna ask you to take the shift at the Aurora...” It takes you a moment to follow her but as soon as you understand you sigh...

“Oh Jessy, I don't know...”

“Please MC, you see I didn't want Phil to get upset with me again and when I told him, I would ask you, he was suddenly on board right away.” She kept talking fast, as she always did when she was trying to convince you. “And why not actually? Maybe a shift at the bar would be some welcome distraction for you? You are way too busy all the time, MC!... And you would really help me out here.” You take a deep, helpless breath of defeat. It's just not possible to say no to Jessy. “Alright, I will do it. Maybe you're right and it will be good for me.”

“Oh thank you, thank you, thank you! You are the best, MC”

“You know it!” You say ironically and say your goodbyes. Geez, now I'm really late. You just grab your things in a haste and rush out of the door.

A few hours later you walk down the road back from the college, you are making some notes on a paper you carry with you, not paying attention to your surroundings as a car slows down next to you. “Well well, if you speak of the devil...if that isn't our Miss MC.” Miss MC, there is only one person in Duskwood who calls you that. Phil looked smiling out of the car window, an unlit cigarette in his mouth looking at you over his sunglasses. Apparently he was talking on the phone. You stick your pen in your hair bun and walk over to the car, you can hear Phil saying into his phone: “Yeah, well she is here now... cya, Sis!” He looks at you with a wide smile. “So I hear you will work for me tonight?” You bend down a little to meet his eyes and say with a smirk “Well as I see it, I am saving your ass tonight, Hawkins” He laughs and shakes his head, with a gesture he offers you to get in the car, throwing his jacket on the back seat. “Wait a sec, I give you a ride home.”

For a brief moment you hesitate, as you look down on your sleeve where you had ink stains from the pen, you brush a loose strand of hair out of your face. I'm a real mess today! You frown a bit helpless as you walk around the car, stuff the paper in your bag and finally let yourself fall on the passenger seat. Phil gives you an enquiring look, his eyes rest on your face for a while.

“You look exhausted, MC. You sure you're up for work today?” he asks with honest concern. You shrug and look out of the side window. “Just a weird day, but I guess it can only get better...And I couldn't say no to your sister anyway. She has her ways, you know.” Phil lights his cigarette and drives off. “Well obviously we don't have that in common, since you said no to me several times already. “ He smiles and winks at you. With a grin you realize that he actually does have the same smile as Jessy with that charming little dimple in the right corner of the mouth. You always found Phil attractive...somehow, you just never put a lot of thought to it. His movements and his posture always had elegance and a calm confidence - which was in this moment infuriating for you, since it made you feel so insecure about yourself. Usually you are not like that at all but the man next to you, looking so effortlessly good, makes you think about your messy hair and you hide your ink stained sleeve in your lab. You let your gaze wander over to his hand on the wheel holding the cigarette - he had beautiful hands with those long slender fingers, to be touched by those hands must be really... “What are you thinking over there?” his question tears you violently out of your thoughts and you feel yourself blushing, quickly turning your face away. “Um...I...was looking at the cigarette, I just quit smoking, you know.” Saved it!

“Sorry, I didn't mean to tempt you, Miss MC.” he says, putting out the cigarette in the ashtray. The irony of that sentence makes you blush even more, letting slip a giggle about your silly self. You just shake your head as he gives you a questioning look. “So Phil..." You start a conversation to stop your thoughts from wandering in that direction again. "...you never told me how it is to own a bar.” He gives you a quick look just to assure himself that you are asking seriously. “Well, it sure is a lot of work but it feels really good to have your own business, standing on your own feet.” He pauses and seems to be thinking further about it. “You know, I had a crappy relationship with my stepfather, he always tried to control me, holding me back or even down somehow and after my mother just dumped us all here in Duskwood, I had to deal with a lot of anger inside of me. I couldn't wait to finally make my own decisions and start something all by and for myself. Insofar the Aurora meant new found freedom for me.” You nod slowly - understanding and impressed by the serious honesty of his answer. You can't even remember having a conversation like that with Phil ever before. Usually he was just flirting with you or making small talk and because of his reputation with women you took it as casual without any deeper meaning, always assuming that is all there is to know about Phil Hawkins. Well, I was wrong about that. It felt like you got to know him a lot better during the last minutes. You tell him a bit about your family and though your experiences were different from his, you feel like you understand each other when it comes to family affairs and how they affect your own life.

Phil pulls over in front of your house and you rummage around in your bag for your keys. “Thank you for the ride, Phil. It was nice talking to you.” You add that with an open and honest smile. Phil lets his eyes rest on your face again with an expression on his own face that you couldn't quite figure out. “It really was...” he answers with a trace of surprise in his voice before his usual charming smile returned and his eyes shot you a cheeky look as he reaches over and pulls the pen out of your hair. “Okay, Miss MC, I see you behind the counter later and don't be late – your boss is waiting for you and he can't handle rejection very well.” You grab the pen out of his hand and push the door open laughing. After you got out of the car you turn around and look at him through the window. “Don't you forget, Hawkins, I'm just saving your ass as a favor.” He winks and counters: ”Well, I'm sure you looked at my ass often enough to know that it's worth being saved.” As the car drives off you stand there watching it moving away for a while - deep in thoughts. Finally you pull yourself around and walk up to the door. You have to get all the ink stains off before your bar shift.

#duskwood #duskwood everbyte #duskwood phil #iamjake #everbyte duskwood #phil hawkins #fanfic #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood mc #everbyte studios #duskwood jessy #phil x mc

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hail-dondus · 6 years ago

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Social Media AU - Richie Tozier comes out during a show

I decided that this AU works better with a written headcanon to go with it, and so I’ve included it underneath the cut. It’s a little rough because it’s been a LONG time since I sat down and properly wrote something, but I tried!

Enjoy!

Holy shit.

He couldn’t believe he’d done that.

Jesus fucking Christ.

His manager was talking shit in his ear, prowling after him like fuck knows what, talking about “there’ll be backlash for this” and “not part of the plan”, and even “you’ve ruined your whole fucking career”. The usual stuff, really. Richie couldn’t bring himself to give a shit though, not right now. His heart was pounding ridiculously loud in his chest, blood rushing through him and making him feel dizzy – adrenaline mostly, but also some anxiety too.

Somehow he found himself in his backstage dressing room, manager still nagging him and furiously demanding answers. Pull it together, Tozier, pull it together.

“What in God’s name were you thinking?!” Brad hissed, slamming his hand down on the dressing table; the bottle of water next to the mirror topped slightly from the force of it. “This is a PR nightmare!”

“I don’t give a shit,” Richie said simply, giving a shrug. “What can I say, man? Gotta be true to myself.”

A vein seemed to throb in his manager’s forehead. “You just announced that you’re gay in front of hundreds of people, Richie, most of whom are within the demographic that are the least accepting of homosexuality! You think you’re the first gay person to be in this position? Because you’re fucking not, okay, there’s a reason PR is a thing! Your image is going to be ruined within just a few short hours of all of this!”

“So you want me to lie about it?” Richie snapped. “I’m done lying, okay? I’m done with the dumb girlfriend jokes, I’m done with the misogynistic shit that I’m having to recite, I’m fucking done! I shouldn’t be ashamed about this, it’s 2017 for fuck sake!”

“Alright, sure, it’s a more accepting time, but your fan base...in case it escaped your notice, you have a certain demographic, and it’s not ‘woke’ gay people. The people who came to your show tonight wanted to see the Richie Tozier they know and love, they wanted those jokes and that humor - not your life story and an impromptu coming out!”

“Well, tough shit to them - like I said, if I’m doing these shows, I’ll do it with my own jokes, not hiding who I am anymore.”

“Richie, it’s not that simple-”

There was a knock on the still-open door; a stagehand gawked at them, a little nervously, before clearing her throat. “Um… I’m sorry to interrupt, I… Well… These guests have VIP passes, and they wanted to see Rich- I mean, Mr Tozier right away.”

Behind her, Richie could see the rest of the Losers Club waiting awkwardly, clearly trying not to look at him or his manager. He cleared his throat and gave what he hoped was an at least somewhat polite nod. “Yeah, they’re friends of mine. Thank you. Brad,” He turned to his manager and gave him a meaningful look. “Some privacy please?”

Brad straightened his blazer but nodded too. “Of course. I have...things to try and fix. We’ll discuss this later, Richie.”

He waited until both the stagehand and his manager were out of earshot before gesturing for his friends to come into the dressing room; all of them looked nervous, clearly trying to pretend that they hadn’t overheard the argument, but he couldn’t bring himself to mind - he was just so glad to see them all right now.

“So…” He said, closing the door behind them and trying to look like he was holding it together. “What- What did you think?”

“You were great, Richie,” Bill said sincerely - and that seemed to make the others more comfortable too, judging by how they all started to smile and rush to embrace him.

“You did a wonderful job, Richie,” Beverly told him, giving him a squeeze and beaming at him. “You had us all laughing the entire show.”

Ben was grinning widely. “Far funnier than any of your old material, that’s for sure.”

“You were actually funny,” Stan said, though he was smiling fondly. “Never thought I’d say that, Trashmouth, but it’s true - if only you were that funny when we were kids.”

“Ha, fuck you too, Stan Urine,” Richie joked, but he was unable to stop himself from exhaling in relief. “I’m glad you all enjoyed the show - was kinda worried it wouldn’t get the same laughs as my old stuff.”

“Your old stuff was fake,” Mike brushed off, giving him a kind smile. “We could see it was really you up there, being yourself.”

Richie felt a little dazed by all the attention; he was briefly aware of Bill and Mike both patting him on the back, of Stan and Patty sharing a small laugh as they recounted something he’d said during the show, Audra congratulating him and saying how happy she was to finally meet all of her husband’s friends, Ben grinning widely, Beverly holding his arm and stating that she was so proud-

Eddie.

Fuck.

“Has anyone seen Eddie?” He blurted out, unable to stop himself. Everyone else fell into silence. “Oh shit. Fucking shit-”

“He just went out for some air,” Beverly said quickly, though she looked uncertain. “I think it’s just...a lot for him.”

“I gotta go find him,” Richie muttered, immediately heading for the door. “Fucking fuck...”

Ben’s arm stopped him before he could touch the handle. “Rich, I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”

“No, I need to apologize to him, I need to explain-”

“Richie,” Bill said quietly. “You just said you’ve been in love with him since we were kids, in front of hundreds of people. Everyone will know by tomorrow, even if they weren’t at tonight’s show. It’s a lot for him to take in.”

Something anxious and vile reared up in Richie’s chest, making him feel like it was difficult to breathe. “I’ve fucked up. I’ve fucked this up, oh fuck...I’m a fucking idiot.”

“Richie-”

“It’s okay, Richie, don’t panic-”

“Shit, what’s he gonna think?! Fuck, I’ve ruined our whole friendship, what the fuck is wrong with me?!”

“You haven’t fucked anything up, Richie.”

“Rich, please just breathe, okay?”

He was only somewhat aware of Beverly’s hand in his arm, gently pulling him over to the nearby chair and sitting him down. “Richie, honey, have some water and just focus on breathing, okay?”

Knowing he had no choice in the matter, he took a gulp from the water bottle she passed him, focusing on her voice and doing his best to push his fears away. Tonight was supposed to have been the opposite of this - he was supposed to be brave, to stand tall, to not be ashamed of who he was. Instead he was terrified, filled with regret and uncertainty.

A part of him was briefly aware of someone (Bill, he figured) saying they were going to find Eddie before stepping out of the room. A minute or so later, he noticed the others starting to filter out of his dressing room, muttering that they were going to give him some space to breathe and not overcrowd him - they’d wait for him outside. He could only hope that security had managed to get any fans waiting out back to go away - normally he didn’t mind signing autographs or saying hello to people, but after tonight’s show...no. He couldn’t.

You’ve really fucked this up, Tozier.

---

Beverly walked with him as they left, her presence welcome and calming; she didn’t speak, and he was grateful for that - he just knew that she understood, that she was on his side no matter what was to come. Then again, he was sure all the Losers would be there for him no matter what - they were like a family, he sometimes thought, a family of misfits and nobodies that found each other, found a group where they could be themselves.

Fuck, he loved his friends so much.

“You want me to drive?” Beverly asked finally when they reached the car park, looking around; the others were nearby, crowded together and talking amongst themselves. “Or do you have a limo these days, Mr Comedian?”

“Hilarious,” He said dryly. “No, but I have a driver sometimes. I can call him and tell him to head home for the night though.”

They had nearly reached the others before Richie realized that all of his friends were there.

Eddie was there.

His throat closed up. No, no, he couldn’t do this, he couldn’t-

“Eds,” Beverly said softly, giving him a kind smile.

Eddie gave a small nod, hands in his pockets and suddenly looking awkward. “Yeah… Erm… Hi, Richie.”

Everyone was silent. The tension was thick enough to be cut with a knife as they all debated what to do, none of them clearly sure of what to say in this situation. Richie tried to meet Eddie’s eye, only to find the other man staring at the floor resolutely; anxiety and worry gnawed at Richie’s insides at the sight.

Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime of awkwardness, Mike cleared his throat and looked around at everyone. “How about we go grab a drink?” He prompted. “You know, to celebrate.”

“Sounds like a good idea, Mikey,” Bill sighed with relief, quickly glancing at Richie and Eddie.

“We’re all booked in the same hotel, right?” Beverly decided quickly, not waiting for an answer before continuing. “How about we go for a drink at the bar? That way none of us need to worry about driving or trying to find our way home.”

The others murmured in agreement, though it was clear that things were still awkward. As they started to make their way out of the car park, Stan and Bill navigating and leading the way, Richie noticed Beverly’s hand leave his arm; before he could question her, however, he found himself face-to-face with Eddie - immediately his throat felt dry, voice mysteriously gone for once in his life.

“Richie.” Eddie’s expression was hard to read; he didn’t seem angry but he didn’t seem happy or pleased either, just...carefully neutral. “Look, we need to… We need to talk.”

“Yeah,” Richie managed. “I guess so.”

Eddie hesitated for a second or two before turning to call to the others over his shoulder. “We’ll meet you guys there.”

None of the other Losers commented on this; instead, Bill merely nodded and gestured in the direction that they were heading. “Sure. Take your time.”

As soon as their friends were far away enough not to overhear, Eddie looked at Richie pointedly. “Is there somewhere private we can go or…?”

“Err… Dressing rooms might still be open?”

“And we won’t be overheard?”

“No. I have a private dressing room, dude.”

Eddie rolled his eyes at this but gestured back towards the theatre. “Alright, fine. Lead the way, Trashmouth.”

Weirdly enough, the nickname made him feel more comfortable - it was almost like nothing had changed, like he didn’t just admit in front of hundreds of people that he was in love with this man, like he didn’t admit it in front of said man. For a moment, Richie allowed himself to think that everything would be fine; they’d talk it out, maybe be able to laugh it off, and it would be good. Not great, to be honest, but better than this hiding and lying.

---

Thankfully security had allowed him to go back to his dressing room, under the guise that he had “forgotten” something, and they didn’t ask about Eddie accompanying him - awkward questions would have made it much more humiliating for all parties involved, he thought. Richie wasted no time in opening the dressing room door to let Eddie in before closing and locking it for good measure, just to be sure that they wouldn’t be interrupted.

“Here, urgh… You take the chair, I can sit on the table,” He offered.

“Don’t worry about it,” Eddie brushed off, crossing his arms and suddenly avoiding his eye. “I’m kinda too nervous to sit.”

“Oh. Thank fuck, me too.”

He noticed Eddie’s lips quirk upwards, as if he was trying not to let himself smile - that was definitely a good sign. He waited for the other man to speak first, partly to be fair but also because, frankly, he had no idea what to say.

“So… Congrats on coming out?” Eddie finally offered - and then they both burst into laughter. “Fuck, that sounds so dumb.”

“Yeah, but it’s kinda cute,” Richie chuckled before he could stop himself - and then he froze up again. “I mean… I don’t mean…”

Eddie seemed to realize what he meant and his smile faded. “Right. That.”

“I’m so fucking sorry,” Richie said quickly. “I should have told you in private or something, not on a fucking stage in a stand-up routine. I mean, I was going to imply that I’m gay as fuck, that was planned, but I wasn’t going to just put it out there like that, it just happened. And shit, I wasn’t even intending on saying all that about you, but I saw you sitting in the front row and… Jesus, Eddie, I just saw you laughing and I-”

“Richie,” Eddie interrupted, and the other man fell silent. “Look, man, this is all… Okay. Alright.” He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath before speaking again. “What you said during the show about me…about how you feel...you meant it.”

Richie swallowed the lump in his throat. “Yeah, I meant it.”

“Since we were kids?” Eddie continued, waiting for the other man to nod. “Okay… Richie, I swear to God, if this is some practical fucking joke or whatever - something for you to get laughs or make fun of me or whatever dumb shit goes through your head - then I will punch you in the face right fucking now.”

“What? No, no this isn’t a fucking joke!” Richie retorted, almost offended by this accusation. “You think I would say all that shit on-stage in front of hundreds of fucking people just for a joke?! Fuck off.”

“Okay, okay, I know, I’m sorry, I just… It’s a lot to take in,” Eddie muttered. When his friend didn’t say anything, he cast a look at him, seeming to study his face, before sighing. “Rich, I’m not about to turn around and start screaming slurs at you just because you had a crush on me.”

“I didn’t-”

“I can see it on your face, dumbass. Richie,” He leaned over and put a hand on his shoulder. “You’re my friend - one of my best friends, actually. Nothing you say could make me hate you...well, not anymore than I do already.”

Richie gave a small, pained laugh, though the relief was evident on his face. “Right. Yeah. Thanks, Eds.”

For a long moment that seemed to stretch on for a lifetime, neither of them said anything else; Eddie’s hand remained on Richie’s shoulder, the taller man just looking at him gratefully. There was still a nagging feeling within him, something eating up at his insides and wondering if Eddie was just hiding any anger or disgust, maybe he just didn’t want to ruin a good night; they still hadn’t really addressed the whole “hey, I’m in love with my best friend Eddie” thing either, that could be awkward-

“Me too.”

Richie blinked. “What?”

Eddie’s hand fell away, and he merely just shrugged as he looked away from Richie. “Me too. I’m...I’m gay.”

“Oh. Oh. Eddie…”

“During the divorce proceedings with Myra, I...I started to think,” He continued, almost to himself. “Actually, it was before that, before I even left Derry. I would hate myself, you know, for every time I looked at a cute guy too long, every time I thought they were handsome in their best clothes or whatever. I’d push it away because I’d think it was not okay, that I was being disgusting or dirty or…”

Richie was stunned by this, suddenly at a loss for words. “Dirty? Come on, dude, you’re like the cleanest asshole I know - there’s not a microbe of dirt or whatever the fuck on you.”

“Hilarious. Really.” But Eddie wasn’t smiling. “Look, ever since the day we...we defeated IT, I’ve thought about it. I have. I thought about you helping me out before that fucking nightmare of a house collapsed, thought about you dragging my ass to hospital and demanding I get immediate attention, about how brave you were that day. After that I decided that I wanted to be brave too - you made me want to be brave and stand up for myself.” He paused. “That sounds cheesey as fuck, I know, but it’s true. And tonight, when you were telling your own jokes, stuff you’d written and worked hard on, I realized it again - that I want to be brave. I don’t want to be scared to admit it.”

“Really?”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah. But there’s something else, Rich...the only person I told before now is Bev, and that’s because she guessed, you know? She could tell, but I also knew she’d listen and not judge.” He took a deep breath. “When I was in the hospital, every time I woke up, you were there - you refused to leave me. The others would be there too, usually taking turns, but you didn’t do that - you were always there. And before that, when we were stuck in that fucking thing’s lair, I saw you…” His voice failed for a moment, and he hurriedly looked away. “Fuck, Richie, you were under the deadlights and I...I thought I was going to lose you. I couldn’t bear it, Rich - I just couldn’t. I had to do something, I had to save you even if it meant putting myself in danger.”

“Well…” Richie wasn’t sure what to say - this wasn’t how he imagined this conversation going at all. “It worked. I’m not dead.”

“No, I know. But do you get what I’m trying to say, Richie?” Eddie asked anxiously. “Why I’m telling you all this?”

“I dunno, man,” Richie said dazedly, trying not to get his hopes up - he couldn’t, he couldn’t let himself think one thing and be brought down when it was not true, not if he could help it. “This whole night has been a clusterfuck for me, and I’m not entirely convinced I’m not high and hallucinating right now.”

It wasn’t true - he hadn’t been high in nearly five years, and he’d given up excessive drinking after reuniting with the Losers. He knew Eddie knew that already, but it was the first excuse he found himself latching onto.

“Jesus Christ, Richie.” The smaller man rolled his eyes but remained otherwise serious. “I’m trying to say that I’ve...I’ve liked you since we were kids too. Loved you, actually. God knows why since you’re an idiot who annoys the shit out of me, but damn it, I love you, Richie Tozier.”

“…Fuck.”

“I was never going to tell you,” Eddie admitted, folding his arms and looking rather uncomfortable. “Even though I decided I was going to try to be brave, that I wasn’t going to keep up with a sham of a marriage, I thought that you weren’t…you know. And I thought that even if you were, then I’d be the last one you’d want to be with.” Strangely, he gave a smile. “Fucking dumb, right?”

Richie nodded. “Very fucking dumb. Jesus, Eddie, do you not see the way I’ve been looking at you? Fuck, there’s been days you’ve given me boners in public just because I was thinking about you.”

“Urgh, too much information, asshole,” Eddie huffed – but the affection behind it was obvious, his facial expression softening. “So…where does this leave us, Richie? What happens next?”

“Next?” Richie considered this. “Well, being honest, I’d love to take you out and do this shit properly, but…”

“But?”

He hesitated, giving the other man a surprisingly serious look. “But that’s your choice – if you wanna stay friends, I respect that.”

To his surprise, Eddie huffed before stepping forwards; before Richie could say anything else, he was being kissed firmly on the mouth, hands cupping his face and pulling him close. He wasted no time in closing his eyes and kissing him back, his heart soaring as his entire body came alive.

For the first time all night, the panic and anxiety that had set him on edge flowed away completely: all he felt was exhilaration and relief – and love, love for this man in his arms. Suddenly it didn’t matter about what anyone else thought – whether ‘fans’ would send him hate online, how this could impact his entire career, his manager hounding him with how much he’d regret this – because none of it was important, not as important as this, as finally being able to hold the person he loved, who he’d always loved, and being able to be open with himself as well as those closest to him.

Yeah, Richie thought to himself blissfully, he didn’t regret his decision in the slightest.

#the written part is so bad but lol whatevs i guess #reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #social media au #it #bill denbrough #mike hanlon #beverly marsh #stan uris #stanley uris #ben hanscom #my writing

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meruz · 4 years ago

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Aforementioned long ask post please excuse me while i try to figure out tumblr's new text editor. I’ll get into the art meme questions first and then the rest at the end.

Ok first of all thank you all for sending in questions! Giving me an excuse to talk hehe. I’ll address these in number order. Here’s a link to the ask meme for reference but also I’ll restate the question for ease of reading.

1. When did you get into art?

Super cliche answer but I don’t remember a time where I WASN’T the weird art kid! I started keeping a dedicated sketchbook when I was about 12? But here’s a page from my kindergarten journal about what I want to be when I grow up.

2. What art-related sites have you ever signed up for?

LOL this is a weird question. Not sure why so many people want to know. Anyways I definitely had a dA. more than one dA account. I used to browse oekakis when I was a kid but I think I was only signed up to some small ones that internet friends owned. What else...? Mangabullet,Tegakie, Paintberri, iscribble back when that was a thing, instagram if that COUNTs, I used to post art on livejournal and dreamwidth too. Patreon, I guess. Gumroad, inprnt, bigcartel, storenvy all for selling stuff.

In terms of resources.. I have a schoolism account that I’m sharing with friends. Used to take classes on coursera for free. I signed up to textures.com for work recently haha. I can’t remember if I ever had an account on posemaniacs. Did they have accounts...? I definitely used to visit all the time.

3. Show us your oldest piece of art you have on hand.

Alright here’s me actually logging into my old deviantart account. These are from September 2008 So I was 13 years old. I don’t have a deviantart account from before then because 13 was the required age for having an account and I didn’t want to lie about my age because I wanted people to be impressed by how young yet clearly incredible at art I was LOL.

4. What defines your artistic style?

You guys are probably more equipped to answer this than me but uh... I wanna say... Focus on colors. And... a slightly heavy hand? Like confident... not always well-considered mark making HAH...

Also I think I have a pretty healthy mix of american comics/manga influences. I feel like people who are into american comics always think my art is too manga and people who are into anime/manga always think my art is too american. And I’m taking that as a good sign.

5. Do you practice other styles/have you tried other styles in the past?

I like to think I switch it up a bunch! I mean, these are pretty different, right?

I think I’ve mentioned this before but one thing I really took away from art school is that, for an illustrator at least, art style shouldn’t be consistent. Your greatest weapon is changing the aspects of your style based on the task, the emotions and message you want to illustrate etc. So depending on the project I’m working on, the fandom I’m drawing for, whether I want something to be funny or serious or dramatic, I’ll change things about my style all the time.

One thing I don’t rly post on here is really tight polished work and that’s because I do that for my day job haha. If you’re not paying me... I’m probably not gonna color in the lines.

6. What levels of artistic education have you had?

I have a whole ass diploma LOL. Bachelor of Fine Arts in Illustration. from the Rhode Island School of Design. And I had a great college experience tbh. Besides the student loans. If any of you guys are thinking about art school feel free to e-mail or message me questions or concerns, I’ll be happy to help. Be as honest as I can be.

7. Show us at least one picture you drew or sketched recently that you did not put on a public site.

heres the wandavision kids. Uhh what else do I have...I feel like I’m rummaging for loose change here...

assorted valentines prep doodles

8. What is your favourite piece that you have done?

Well, obviously this is gonna change all the time and generally it’s gonna be my most recent piece LOL. So yeah, why the hell not. I’ll say it’s this one. I have a pretty short memory which I count as a blessing for an artist. I don’t dwell that long on older work and it keeps me moving forward.

10. What do you like most about your art?

I like that it’s something that only I would make! I had this thought fairly recently and I wrote it down in my sketchbook, it’s pretty cheesy and rambling but it felt revolutionary at the time:

So yeah. I like my art best when it’s the most me and for me. And I like it least when it feels like I’m just making something for social media or for other people’s expectations or whatever.

14. What do you like drawing the most?

Kids in baggy clothing are like my go-to LOL idk if that’s obvious. but also I like being challenged so lately I’ve really loved drawing multi-character compositions, environments, weird angles, etc.

oh i LOVE drawing the underside of shoes lol. And bandages. People that are kinda beat up.. I think it comes from getting a bunch of cuts all the time. I’m always patching myself up and I want to patch characters up too.

15. What do you like drawing the least?

mmm I try to find something to like in every drawing but lets see... I don’t like doing commissions of people’s dogs. Just because it’s normally like... a family friend and my mom volunteered me without my consent and I don’t even really know what they’re expecting me to draw and I don’t even get to meet the dog. Also I’m not that great at dog anatomy. Trying to learn though.

18. What is your purpose for drawing?

This could have a million answers! Uhhh to GIT GOOD??? But also to express myself... and also to make money... I mean it depends on what the drawing IS. I draw fanart mostly to connect to people in the fandom so if you ever see me drawing fanart please take it as like an open invitation to talk to me about the character haha.

20. How would you rank your art? (poor, mediocre, good, etc.)

Good!!! I have a lot of self-confidence primarily born out of ignorance and a short attention span. If I don’t think too hard about how many other artists are mindblowingly unfathombly good... its easy to think I’m good too! LOL

In all seriousness though, I think the opinion a person has of their art is like a crazy balancing act, right? Like you have to think you suck enough to want to get better but also you have to think you’re good enough to not want to give up. I think we’re all walking that line, I know I am! But also I’m a glass half-full type of person so. Most of the time I feel good about it.

22. List at least one of your “artspirations.”

This is a good question because I’ve been trying and failing to put together one of those “influence map” memes for like a full month now. What’s giving me a hard time is I feel like none of these are actually really obvious “““influences”““ in my art? Like it’s hard to see a lot of them in the work I make...? But idk maybe you guys’ll see what I can’t.

And these are just a couple! God there’s so many more. I could talk about other artists for ages, from all different genres of art. Daumier, Rockwell like every illustrator out there, Dana Gibson, Alex Toth, Hiroshi Yoshida, a lot of the Brandywine School. Lots of current working artists too, Karl Kerschl, frikkin Masashi Kishimoto lol, Jake Wyatt, Richie Pope, Edouard Caplain, Matt Cook, Sachin Teng, - lots of big internet artists, Sophie Li, Freddy Carrasco, Milliofish, Angela Sung... like all my friends from art school too. I could just keep going but I’ll stop for now lol.

24. Do you have a shameful art past? (recolour sprite comics, tracing art, etc.)

I mean if that’s how we’re defining shameful?? sure LOL. It’s not sprite comics but I used to do pokemon sprite recolors all the time. And I used to trace manga panels and color them... Granted this was all when I was like under 12 yrs old so it’s not even embarrassing. Can you really call it shameful when a 7 year old wets the bed or whatever? Not really. In fact some of these are cool as fuck. Look

25. Draw a picture!

Man I’m so tired now but here.

I used to get a lot of compliments for drawing people smiling lol but I don’t think I’ve drawn a lot of smiling lately.. here’s proof I’ve still got it.

OK MEME DONE. onto the rest.

I read this ask first thing when i opened my computer in the morning and it made me really emotional.. I’m so glad my sketches could help you!!

I think a lot of artists on social media talk about the struggle of making art but imo not enough people talk about the joy! Like I know it’s corny but. I really meant what I said at the beginning of that sketchbook about re-contextualizing art around process and progress > product and perfection. I think its super important..! The strength of messy, unfinished, and energetic art! For the feeling of it, for the love it!

That's crazy!!! I hope you like 'em. The whole line of x-books is really good rn imo.

Hi! I totally have the answer for digital stuff on my faq lol. But in terms of drawing on paper.. it varies! I tend to use sketchbooking and any on-paper doodling I do as a way to loosen up/warm-up or experiment. But right now my go-to aresenal is:

from top > bottom

- kuretake no.55 doublesided brush pen

- tombow fudenosuke

- muji 0.38 ballpoint

- medium size poscas

- grey tombow double brush pens

- good ol bic mechanical pencil

not EXACTly sure which inking you referring to from my sketchbook but if I had to take a guess it'd probably be the kuretake no55. That's been my main inker, lately. Great for sketching with the thin end too.

You can print out and eat my art if you like. Just please don't mass produce or re-sell. <3

Thanks! I've come to accept that my art is always gonna be sort of gestural and painty naturally. It's getting it to tighten up enough to be legible that's hard lol...

uh yeah lol I agree actually. I think yolei is great.

I assume these asks are related? LOL

1) Yeah totally true. I love David.

2) I don’t take requests, sorry! But if you want to commission me to draw Legion i would be MORE than happy to. Just e-mail me at [email protected].

<33333333333333333333333333

#ask #anonymous

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anthropwashere · 5 years ago

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deadfic: Bang Babies got nothin’ on the Ghost Kid

More deadfic for @goodintentionswipfest! There was a post circulating on here once upon a time riffing on how OP Danny is compared to regular superheroes, so here’s about 4k of a Static Shock/Danny Phantom crossover that didn’t end up going anywhere.

The first time they see him, he’s just a black and white streak that nearly knocks them both out of the sky.

“Who—what was that?” Static gapes once he’s regained his balance. Green data splashes across Gear’s visor, obscuring his own incredulous expression.

“No idea, but they just clocked 154 miles per hour.”

“Well the speed limit here is only 45. Wanna pull ‘em over?”

Gear snorts. “If we can catch ‘em, sure.”

But whoever or whatever it was is long gone. After a week with no other sightings of ‘Flash Noir’ as they call the stranger, they let it go. Whatever it is will turn up, or it won’t. So long as no one’s getting hurt by it, it’s not really their problem, right?

The second time they see him is a week after that, and he’s hovering over the school roof just… watching. Other people see him too, and they all point and stare at the figure all in stark black and white, a teenage boy from the waist up and a ribbon of black from the waist down.

Virgil and Richie share a mutual look of relief. They’d started to think they’d imagined him, never mind what Backpack had recorded. But when they look up at the roof again the kid is gone.

The third time they see him, he’s just a black speck barely glimpsed in the streaky post-rain evening sky. They only realize it’s him—and that he’s there at all—because Backpack catches him on the edge of its radar. He’s too high up, way too high up. The air’s just too thin for normal people—or normal bang babies, for what that’s worth. They try to get as close as they can anyway, but he blinks out of existence long before they can make out any details.

The fourth time they see him, he’s got a minivan and a corolla balanced in each hand like gravity’s got better things to do than pay him any mind. He’s holding them by the bumpers. Gear promptly loses his mind trying to figure out the physics behind such a feat, so it’s only Static that sees the guy toss a grin their way as he sets the two vehicles down on a stretch of road aways away from the car accident he’d apparently saved them from joining.

The strange kid waves at the families he’d saved, then takes off before Static and Gear can get near him. Backpack helpfully informs Gear that this mysterious guy encroaching on their hero turf clocked 60 miles in two seconds flat.

The fifth time they see him, he’s waiting for them in the junkyard looking infuriatingly smug. Static and Gear gape, then jump for him. It’s been starting to feel like chasing a mirage, but this time the guy stays put.

“Relax,” he tells them with a laugh and a lazy grin. “I’m not a bad guy.”

This close they can see he’s not any older than they are. He’d look like any normal kid, except for the glowing green eyes and shock of white hair fluttering in a breeze that isn’t there.

“Then why are you stalkin’ us?” Static challenges.

“I wouldn’t say ‘stalk,’” the guy replies, defensive. “I’ve just never seen any other superheroes before. I was curious, that’s all.”

“I guess you don’t watch the news much,” Gear says, unimpressed. “You can go a day without hearing about a super making headlines somewhere.”

The kid’s grin turns uneasy. “I’m, uh, not actually from around here. Superheroes are a bit thin on the ground, where I’m from.”

“And where’s that, the North Pole?” Static asks.

The kid rolls his eyes. “Through an interdimensional rift in space four blocks from here. Hang a right past the Lovecraft reference and straight on ‘til morning.”

Static and Gear share an exasperated look.

“Look, kid,” Gear begins heatedly, only to be cut off.

“Oh no, no fair. You guys look like you’re still in high school too, so cut it out with the ‘kid’ stuff. The name is Phantom.”

Gear huffs. “Fine, Phantom. Point is we appreciate the help. You’re doing good work. But the superhero thing’s dangerous. You can’t just, y’know, jump into it.”

As if the two of them hadn’t done just that. But, y’know. It felt right to warn the guy, at least.

“It’s not a matter of ‘if’ you’ll get hurt if you stick with it,” Static adds. “And, okay, you might be new in town, so maybe you don’t know, but the two of us have got Dakota covered just fine.”

Phantom rolls his eyes, bouncing into the air. Gravity really doesn’t pay him any mind at all. How does he fly? Telekinesis? He does it like he’s so used to it the switch from standing to hovering is as natural as breathing. “Trust me, this city’s a walk in the park compared to what I deal with. Forgive me for seeing a chance to lend a hand to a couple of kids who clearly needed the help.”

“Now wait a minute—”

He drifts higher. “Oh, and by the way, there’s a guy calling himself Hotstreak waiting for you on ice by the community center. You’re welcome.”

“Wait—!”

But he blinks out of sight just like his name would suggest he could. There’s a pause as they both stare stupidly at thin air, then Gear swears. “‘On ice?’ Don’t tell me he’s got ice powers too.”

Phantom does, in fact, have ice powers too. Talk about overkill.

The sixth time Phantom makes an appearance, Virgil Hawkins is eating dinner with his dad and sister. He happens to glance out the window only to see a pair of neon green eyes staring back at him. Virgil drops his glass, yelping when milk splashes his mostly empty plate and spills into his lap.

“What’s the matter with you?” His sister asks.

“Uh. I—nothing! Nothing at all! I just—remembered that I, uh. Book report! I left my book report at Richie’s and I need to go get it!”

“Can’t it wait until school tomorrow?” His dad asks.

“No—no, it can’t, because I, uh, I still need to type it up and—and it’s due first period!”

He runs out of the kitchen and out the front door before either of them can yell at him to clean up the mess he’d made. He stands on the stoop, panting and trying not to panic, and Phantom swoops into view upside down with that smug grin on his face again.

“Well hey there, sparky,” he says.

Virgil thinks he maybe has a heart attack, a little bit, before he finds the strength to speak. “You’ve gotta be kidding me!” He yells in a furious stage whisper, grabbing the kid out of the air to drag him closer. “The first rule of superheroes is minding the secret identity thing, especially around family, and you just blew that right out of the water!”

Virgil’s hand goes briefly numb and Phantom slips out of his grasp. “I wouldn’t say ‘just,’” he replies, looking guilty.

Virgil’s gonna strangle him, he really is. “How long have you known who I am?”

“Wwwwwell, a couple weeks back I saw local heroes Static and Gear walk into an abandoned gas station and two normal teenagers walk out. I don’t know your real names and I didn’t know you lived here, I swear. I was just flying by and recognized your hair out of the corner of my eye. I swear,” he repeats hastily at Virgil’s murderous expression.

Virgil counts to five, then back down again, and is still just as pissed. “Fine. Okay. C’mon.”

He starts walking towards Richie’s house, because no way is he doing this on his own. Behind him Phantom asks, “Uh, where are you going?”

“We are going to R—Gear’s place. The three of us are gonna sort this out, and don’t you even think of pulling another one of your disappearing acts to get out of it!”

Phantom scoffs. “Oh yeah, because I’m so inconspicuous otherwise. Here, hold still.” He grabs Virgil’s shoulder and a chill washes over him. He startles, trying to pull away, but Phantom may as well have steel rebar for bones. Virgil looks down and yelps even louder than when he’d spilled milk all over himself; the ground has fallen away without even a rusty, trusty trash can lid underfoot. And speaking of feet, where are his feet?

“Augh, what? Whoa, no, let me go!”

“Quit squirming.”

Oh, no. He’s not getting the evil grunt orders fifty feet in the air. He grabs the hand he can’t see and sends a warning bolt. Phantom grunts, twitching.

“Augh, easy sparky! Which way is Gear’s house?”

“How is this less inconspicuous you maniac? Put me down—and don’t drop me!”

“Oh, for—you’re invisible right now.” He looks up and there’s nobody above him, but he can hear Phantom all the same. “I pulled a disappearing act and brought you along. Seriously, man, I know I’ve been goofing off and setting you on edge, but I really didn’t mean to spy. You wanna talk to Gear about the blown cover thing—I really don’t know your names still, by the way—and I wanna come to an agreement.”

Virgil sighs. These bang babies all gotta stop being so crazy. But hey, at least this one doesn’t seem like he’s about to rob any banks. “Hang a right at this light.”

It is officially too weird to watch your own body reappear before your own eyes. Virgil shudders.

“First time with invisibility?” Phantom waggles his eyebrows. “How do you feel?”

“...Tingly. Warn me before you do that again, alright?”

“You just gave me blanket permission to do it again basically whenever, you realize that, right?”

“Wh—I did not!”

Phantom rolls his eyes and phases through the roof. Seriously, there’s got to be a limit to how many spooky ooky poltergeist powers a guy can have, right? A moment later Virgil hears Richie yowling, and Phantom reappears with Richie in tow. He sets Richie down, gentle as you please, then promptly explodes.

Virgil recoils, blinking white light out of his vision. When he can see clearly again, Phantom is gone and there’s a regular teenager standing in his place, black-haired and fresh out of glowing green eyes. One forearm is bandaged from wrist to elbow.

“Wh-what?” Richie asks for the both of them.

The kid smiles, waving his uninjured hand. “Danny Fenton. It’s nice to see you without the visor.”

Turns out, Danny wasn’t kidding about being from a different dimension. He shows them the door he pops in and out of and everything. It’s an emergency exit of an old theater downtown, perfectly normal to Virgil’s eyes. Richie opens it. Rusty hinges squeal and Virgil can glimpse the vague suggestion of chairs in the dark.

“It only works if you’re focusing on the Ghost Zone,” Danny says.

“The what now?”

Richie shakes his head. “Oh no, no way. Please don’t tell me I’m talking to a dead guy.”

Danny laughs. “Nah, I’m basically as normal as either of you when I’m like this.”

Considering Virgil can do exactly as much damage as he can wearing his superhero gear, that’s not exactly comforting.

Danny nudges Richie aside, shuts the door and opens it up again. Just like that the theater’s interior is gone. There’s a hole in the world instead, bleeding radioactive green into the alleyway. There are hundreds—no, thousands—of violet doors floating in a green void that twists in dizzying shapes before his eyes. There’s no ground, no sky, it goes on forever in all directions.

“That—” Richie swallows. “That’s where you’re from?”

Danny shuts the door. Virgil tries to ignore the relief that makes jelly out of his knees, but dang, that really needed a better warning. “No, of course not. I’m from Earth, same as you. Just a, well, a slightly different one, I guess. A parallel one. That place is where ghosts come from. I only ended up here by mistake.”

“Take a left at the Lovecraft reference?” Virgil asks, rubbing his eyes.

“Ha, pretty much. I was trying to escape the Lovecraft reference. That’s, uh, not what it’s name probably is? My friend Sam called it that and I can’t understand it, so, that’s kind of stuck. It’s got enough teeth to deserve being called ‘Lovecraft reference,’ anyway.”

“Sam?” Richie asks. “Is that someone else, uh, on your team?”

“It’s not really a team. She doesn’t have super powers or anything, if that’s what you mean.”

“That’s right, you said superheroes are thin on the ground where you’re from,” Virgil says. “So I guess it’s just you dealing with the big and toothy?”

“Basically, yeah. Not a lot of opportunity to do what I did to get my powers.”

“What’d you—”

Danny holds up both hands. “Nope, nuh-uh. You’ve got your secrets, I’ve got mine.”

The seventh time they see Phantom, they finally see him in proper action. Ebon’s gang has struck a bank—Virgil’s big mouth and bad luck strikes a home run, as usual—and by the time Static and Gear arrive on the scene they’ve stolen a truck and are two blocks from the bank. Talon is flying overhead, keeping an eye out for cops or goody-good superheroes, while the rest of the gang’s inside.

They don’t stop to see who’s hurt. They’d passed an ambulance on the way, and it’s not like either of them are good for more than getting the injured to emergency care. They take chase, and the armored truck doesn’t make it another block before Gear’s knocked Talon out of the sky and Static has netted the truck in a web of electricity. It’s heavy though, too heavy for him to do more than keep its tires squealing in place and hoping Gear can gimmick up something to slow it down a little more. Ebon’s smart though. He’s not gonna pick a fight here, and Static will burn himself out long before the tires do.

“Gear!” He yells desperately.

“Working on it!”

But it’s Phantom that swoops in from nowhere, soaring down in front of the truck. He, impossibly, lifts the wheels off the street one-handed. It’s enough help to let Static focus his attention on popping the wheels off before releasing his net. He sinks to his knees, disc wobbling dangerously beneath him, catching his breath.

“I—hate—armored trucks,” he wheezes.

“Static!” Phantom calls out, startled, which means breaktime is over. He stretches his hand out and ties Shiv up with a nearby stop sign before he gets to his feet again. Phantom’s rushed off to help Gear with Talon who’s back in the air, which just leaves Ebon to Static.

Ebon slides out of the truck, an inky, glowering smear. “Who’s the new guy?”

“Friend from out of town. Why, you feelin’ like we’re not bondin’ like we used to?”

Ebon doesn’t reply, just slaps Static away. The air gets knocked out of him and he lands in a sprawl halfway down the street. Before he can recover he hears Talon scream. He slams his hands to his ears reflexively, but luckily she wasn’t aiming at him. Not so luckily, Gear and Phantom hit asphalt a few yards away.

“You okay?” Static calls out.

“I hate when she does that,” Gear complains too loudly, shaking his head like a dog and looking nauseous. Yeah, Static hates it too. He’d take getting slapped around by Ebon over having his hearing scrambled any day.

Phantom springs up quicker than either of them, grinning madly. “She wants a screaming match, huh?”

Gear looks as aggrieved as Static feels. “Do not tell me you can do that too.”

Phantom’s grin widens, eyes blazing, as Talon rejoins Ebon and Shiv at the armored truck. Shiv must’ve cut himself free of the stop sign at some point. Static makes a mental note to use two stop signs next time. The three of them are hauling bags out of the back, clearly planning on Ebon’s easy getaway trick to get at least some of the cash they’d stolen.

Static gets to his feet, zapping his disc underfoot again as he considers a half dozen strategies to take them out and not liking any of them. Ebon’s always been too slippery; it’s likely he’ll get away no matter what—

A hand claps down on his shoulder.

“Stay behind me,” Phantom says.

“What are you—”

But there’s no time to finish asking what because Phantom takes a deep breath and wails. There’s waves of concentric neon green energy bursting from his mouth, radiating out and down to Ebon’s gang. The armored car, down two tires, goes shrieking and sparking down the street. Two parked cars follow after, their windows shattering, their frames buckling. Ebon, Talon, and Shiv don’t even have time to grab at their ears; they go down like bowling pins, and don’t get up again.

The click of Phantom’s teeth when he finally stops wailing seems awfully loud. Static feels like he just walked out of a concert he’d been too near the speakers at for; his ears are ringing, his hands and feet are tingling, and his chest hurts vaguely. He swallows, looks back at Gear who’s just shaking his head a little. He looks at Phantom; the kid’s got beads of green on his forehead and he’s breathing hard.

“Sorry,” his voice cracks a little, “That one’s kinda hard to put a lid on.”

After sorting out things with the police—which Phantom vanished for, literally—they invite him back to the gas station for what is, in essence, dinner and an interrogation. Richie declares he’s had enough surprises and Virgil agrees. So they stop to grab a couple of pizzas and manhandle Danny to the gas station. Danny lets himself be manhandled with no shortage of eye rolling.

“Sit,” Richie orders, shoving a paper plate laden with three slices of pepperoni into Danny’s hands. “Explain.”

Danny sits obediently, raising his eyebrows like he’s trying not to grin. “Uh, explain what?”

“You! Your ridiculous collection of powers, where you come from, why you’re not strutting around your weird parallel Earth or whatever as Grand High Emperor of—of everything!”

Danny can’t help the grin. Virgil’s hiding one behind a can of soda too though, so he can’t judge. “Grand High—what? Do you have one of those here?”

“Danny.”

“C’mon. We agreed on no details, didn’t we? This wouldn’t even be a conversation we’d have if you were the ones coming to my city.”

“We agreed to that when it seemed like you were just another souped up Bang Baby,” Virgil cuts in, “but this is getting ridiculous. I’m not sure I like the idea of Superman’s ghost charging through Dakota any time he feels like it, especially since supers tend to bring their problems along with ‘em.”

“If you want me gone, I’ll leave. I was just trying to give you guys a hand when things were slow in Am—my city.”

“We never asked your overpowered butt for help in the first place!” Richie snaps.

Danny opens his mouth to snap something back but his phone goes off instead. He glares at them both as he pulls it out of his jeans pocket, flipping it open. His eyes widen at whatever the text reads, he fires off a quick reply, then drops his uneaten pizza on the table. “Look, here I am, going. All right?”

“Trouble in paradise?” Virgil quips.

Danny ignores it, but stops halfway to the door to look back over his shoulder. His eyes are bright green, which Virgil’s learning means more trouble than it’s worth. “You know what? How about you come visit Amity Park with me?”

The Ghost Zone is just as dizzying as Static thought it would be, and in no time at all he’s hopelessly lost and he has a monster of a headache. It’s like he’d put his face right up against a neon sign no matter where he looks; just bright green smears and the odd clutter of purple doors. “Man, you sure you’re not lost?”

Phantom throws a grin over his shoulder. “Relax, I’ve done this plenty of times.”

“Is it even safe for, uh, regular people to be here?” Richie asks nervously. “I’m getting some bizarre readings here that Backpack can’t make heads or tails of. I feel like I should have nabbed a HAZMAT suit too.”

“My parents and friends have been in and out of the Ghost Zone dozens of times, and they’re totally fine.”

“Radiation poisoning can take decades to affect people,” Gear points out.

“Eh, so maybe they’ll glow in the dark or something twenty years from now. Ectology is kind of in its infancy. Anyway, we’re here.”

There’s a circular hole of swirling green, lighter than the fog around them and suspended in a solid looking riveted steel frame. Phantom holds up one hand to stop them, sticking his head through. “We’re good,” he says when he’s popped back out. “C’mon.”

Gear and Static share one last nervous look before following after.

They find themselves in some kind of high-tech basement done all out in sleek chrome, like a mad scientist’s lab out of a Saturday morning cartoon. There are beakers and flasks bubbling with syrupy neon green stuff, barrels with CAUTION stamped on the sides, and the kind of tables that wouldn’t look out of place in a flashy investigation show morgue. Static breaks out in goosebumps and can’t even pretend to play it off on it being a little chilly in here.

“My parents built the Ghost Portal,” Phantom says, pointing back at the circle of green light still swirling behind them. “But I’m the one who made it work.”

Seeing the Portal on this side makes Gear’s breath hitch, and Static breathes out a stunned, “Whoa.” It’s an octagon framed by fat black and yellow caution stripes, easily fifteen feet in diameter. The Portal itself is identical to how it appeared on the Ghost Zone’s side, a constant dizzying swirl of toxic greens staining the enormous lab like some kind of mutant aquarium.

“Is this thing open all the time?” Gear stutters. “How is your family not dead? Heck, the whole city? This thing’s pouring out energy on a—I need to invent a new scale to quantify these readings just so I can make sense of them!”

Phantom laughs, grabbing a chrome cylinder glittering with green designs. “Don’t worry about it, seriously. My mom would know if it was, like, properly dangerous. Now c’mon, I want you to meet a regular of mine.”

Two more teenagers are waiting for them outside an evacuated post office. The girl, white with a distinctly Goth taste in clothes, gives Phantom a look that plainly states she thinks he’s nuts. “You didn’t mention you’d be bringing them through,” she says flatly.

The guy, black with thick-rimmed glasses and dressed like he can’t decide if he’s going for ‘frequents Starbucks’ or ‘military surplus’, rolls his eyes and waves. “Hi, I’m Tucker. That’s Sam. Don’t mind her, she’s just pissed the Box Ghost got the jump on her.”

“The one time I leave the house without a Thermos,” she huffs, crossing her arms.

“Sorry about the wait.” Phantom says. “Guys, this is Static and Gear.”

“Charmed,” Static says automatically. Gear just grunts.

“Don’t need three guesses to guess who,” Tucker grins. “We can catch up later. You wanna do the honors, Danny?”

“Nah.” Phantom looks at Static and Gear, looking worryingly pleased. “I helped you out with the, what’s it, Ebon and Friends. Why don’t you take a crack at one of mine?”

#danny phantom #static shock #my writing #deadfic

163 notes · View notes

kafka-ish · 5 years ago

Text

stanley’s sister has got it going on | r.t.

richie’s got a crush and he’s got it bad. the only thing that’s keeping him from the girl he’s been chasing is his best friend—her brother.

word count: 4,665

warnings/included: nsfw (not explicit), fluff, swearing, fem!reader

a/n: as i was rereading this i realized that this is the dirtiest thing i’ve ever written??? (so far). in comparison to other works it’s probably vv vanilla so pls bear with me

In the defense of Richie Tozier, it wasn’t his fault he ended up catching feelings for Stanley Uris’s little sister. There were a lot of things he couldn’t control. Like when his mouth opened and out came a poorly done impression of his chemistry teacher. (Which just so happened to have been done as Mr. Ford was standing behind the boy).

Richie may as well just start a list of things he can’t help, marking y/n Uris down as number thirty-three.

“Hey, Richie!” Well, well, well, if it wasn’t the person Richie had been most desperately trying to avoid. “Are you going to Stan’s tonight?” y/n asked. She was standing outside of his car door while he was in the driver’s seat, flicking through the radio stations, trying to find a good song for the ride home.

Upon hearing the voice, Richie stopped fidgeting with the knob. It was honestly hopeless trying to find a good song at this point. None of the good stuff comes on until later. He turned his head to meet eyes with the accompanying voice from outside his car.

Bad idea.

Of course, y/n chose to wear a tank top and the shortest skirt possible that day. Hell, any day he’d find his thoughts lost in her. Whether she was wearing a bikini at the quarry or in an oversized t-shirt and checkered pajama pants.

“Earth to Richie?” y/n laughed. She waved her hand in front of his face, trying to capture his attention. Little did she know, that wasn’t necessary.

“Actually, I was thinking about being a no-show today. I’ve been neglecting my training.”

“Oh! You train? Which gym?” She was grinning wide and her gaze burned a hole through his heart.

“The arcade. I gotta keep my skills fresh if I ever wanna keep that high score.” y/n rolled her eyes, but his comment still made her laugh.

“Well, can you take me home? Once you drop me off I promise you can have all the time in the world to work on your skills.” Emphasis on ‘skills’.

“Promise, eh?” Richie repeated, giving the girl a hard time. “Did Stan forget how to drive?”

“No…” The ‘o’ part was drawn out. “He has his bird watching club today and I don’t feel like sitting in the sun for an hour while I wait for him.”

Richie smiled to himself, thinking for a moment. On one hand, he shouldn’t be alone with the sister of one of his best friends’, as he had different intentions. On the other hand, he couldn’t just leave his best friend’s sister hanging like that. In hindsight, he had come to the conclusion that there was a possibility of Stan getting mad at him either way.

Taking Stan’s sister home it was.

“What are you waiting for, y/n/n, get in.” Richie finally made his decision.

y/n cheered happily, thanking him, as she rounded his car and opened the door to the passenger’s seat.

“You have no idea how happy this makes me!” y/n smiled, her expression reaching ear to ear.

“Oh yeah. I bet you’re over the moon about getting a ride from your brother’s best friend in some beat up chevy.” Richie tried his best to distance himself. He really did. But he couldn’t help but notice y/n’s figure in the tight-fitting clothes, especially when she sat in such a close proximity to him.

“I don’t think you get it, Tozier.” y/n hummed as she started turning the knob on the dash, finally settling on some rock station. She lowered the volume so they could still talk without yelling over the atmosphere. “We never hang out.”

“We’re hangin’ out right now,” Richie argued, daring to look away from the road for one millisecond just so he could steal a glance at her.

“Yeah, but… You hang out with Bill, Eddie, and Stan, and stuff.” She sounded disappointed.

“I guess it’s different with them.” Richie shrugged. It was different with them. Bill, Eddie, Stan, Ben, and Beverly even, had their group together. They had the same classes together. They faced off a killer clown together.

“I get that you guys have your own friend group and stuff.” y/n said quickly, not wanting to sound lonely or weird from her previous statement. “But we’re friends. Aren’t we?” She said this with an unsureness in her voice that Richie didn’t know how to reply to.

I should’ve just left her at school. What’s so bad about waiting in the sun while Stan’s off watching some stupid birds? I guess it is kind of hot out. But a little heat won’t hurt anyone, right? Besides, she’s wearing a tank top.

Richie peered over at y/n who was looking out the window as her head leaned against it.

A white, lacy tank top that makes her skin look even more—

“Richie?” Concern washed over the girl’s eyes. Her attention turned to him instead of the scenery that passed by them.

Richie whipped his head away from her body and stared blankly at the road. It was almost as if he were a ghost. Except he actually had color in his face.

“What is it, y/n/n?” Richie’s eyes were still on the road.

“I asked if we were friends.” The girl giggled, not being able to take anything seriously for longer than five minutes. “But that’s a stupid question.” She looked down and began to pick at her nails.

“Of course we’re friends.” Richie insisted. The only problem is that I want more and your brother would kill me.

Something inside of y/n calmed at the affirmation. “So we should hang out.”

“Already told ya, y/n/n. I got a date with destiny today.”

“I don’t mind being the third wheel.”

To be frank, that was the last thing Richie needed. It was bad enough that middle schoolers would wait lined up behind him, watching as he lost at some silly arcade game that he still had a passion for. He didn’t need some hot girl hanging over his shoulder while he did so, too. But Richie’s mouth had betrayed his thoughts.

“Only if you want to, y/n/n.” He had avoided trying to call y/n anything other than her name or her nickname. He wouldn’t allow himself to call her any of the cutesy trademark pet names he’d call other girls that he would shamelessly flirt with for fun. He started implementing this tactic in sophomore year once he really started to notice her.

At first, it was the way she greeted him every time the losers met up at Stan’s house. Maybe he was crazy, but he swore she gave him special attention: always running up towards him when she saw him, her lingering by his side before Stan yelled at her, asking if she had anything better to do. Her smile was seemingly wider and her eyes brighter whenever she held conversations with him compared to the other losers—or maybe that was just Richie looking into things too much.

Due to drama and false rumors, y/n had started hanging out with the losers more this year. It was an attempt for her to take her mind off of the absence of friends on her part. None of the losers seemed to mind, even Stan. Thus, she became a regular when the group went on swimming trips to the quarry or slept over at each other’s houses. This didn’t really help Richie’s case. Now, he was basically forced to see her figure in a swimsuit and in every other setting imaginable. Not to mention, he couldn’t do anything about it either.

The two had finally arrived at the arcade. Richie had managed to snag the closest parking spot to the entryway and y/n relentlessly made fun of how he never parked straight until they got in the door.

“Okay, kid. Once you get your license, you can criticize my ‘bad’ parking. But for now, since you’re hitching rides for free, I say you better just keep quiet for now.”

“But you’re so over the lines! I can’t imagine your coloring if that’s how you park.”

“I’ll have you know, y/n, I don’t color. For one, that shit’s for babies. And I am way past that preschool shit. And second of all, coloring’s way lame.” Richie had made his way over to the Street Fighter machine and inserted a quarter in the slot.

y/n watched him thoughtfully for awhile as he fidgeted with the joystick and jammed the buttons.

“Do you want anything to drink?” she asked, growing bored of watching the same repetitive visuals from over his shoulder. But she didn’t think she could ever grow tired of watching him.

“Hold on.” His hand smashed against the buttons in rapid fire movements while he simultaneously maneuvered the joystick. A few seconds after, the game played a pitiful noise and the boy let out a groan. Richie had lost.

“That’s a weird way of saying coke.” y/n hummed before skipping off to the lounge area.

On her way back, she saw Richie’s face contort in frustration. Once again, he had lost to the game.

“Cheer up, buttercup!” y/n passed handed him the glass bottle and Richie had finally stepped away from the Street Fighter machine.

“Easy for you to say. You don’t got an inanimate object beating ya four to one.” Richie pretended to wipe the nonexistent sweat off his brow and looked down to y/n, offering her a smug look.

“Would a kiss make you feel better?” The girl leaned closer to him and got up on her tippy toes, preparing to peck him on his cheek.

This was the first of y/n showing any sign of real interest. And while Richie wanted to bask in the glory of his long time crush finally coming around, his thoughts also drew to Stan. What kind of friend would he be if he made a move on his friend’s little sister? Technically she’s the one making the moves-

Cut it out, Rich!

His internal monologue argued for a while before he realized y/n’s lips were attached to his face.

“W-what are you doing?” Richie belatedly snapped out of his thoughts and came to his senses.

y/n pulled away. Her arms crossed tightly around her chest and her posture was now slightly hunched over. Oh.

“I thought I could make you feel better.” She mumbled. When she eventually spoke, she let out a breath she wasn’t aware she was holding in. “Can you take me home?” She asked, though it was more of a statement than a question.

“Of course.” The two started heading for the door and Richie tried to slow his pace so that his long legs would be in sync with hers. “To be honest, y/n/n, I was kinda getting tired of this ol’ dump anyways.”

A small smile graced y/n’s lips as he talked. Even if she was still embarrassed from the previous events.

“You’re not gonna be a professional video game player?”

“Oh no. That dream’s been abandoned for a long time now.” Richie quipped back. He was turning the keys into the ignition and began to drive off.

The car ride to Stan’s place was silent. Either because of the turn that had taken place earlier at the arcade, or because Richie didn’t wanna open his big mouth and accidentally slip up; ruining his relationship with both Stan the Man and Stan the Man’s hot sister.

Richie’s old chevy slowly came to a stop at the front of Stan’s house. The sky was cloudless and an unnerving shade of blue today, highlighting how perfectly trim and green Uris’s lawn was.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” y/n finally spoke up. Her voice foreign to Richie’s ears after the fifteen minutes of dead air from the two of them. But it wasn’t that foreign. Her voice echoed through his brain practically everyday. Whenever classes got boring or nights seemed endless, Richie found himself either replaying past conversations between them. Or other scenarios… She was an unhealthy addiction he couldn’t quit. Like smoking, only hotter and way more deadly.

“What’s there to talk about?” Richie faced y/n, putting on his best ‘I’m-not-interested-in-you’ face, when he really felt quite the opposite.

“Richie, I feel like you don’t like me.” Her accusation was dead wrong, but there was hurt in her eyes. Somehow, Richie had managed to convince the girl of his dreams he hates her when that couldn’t be less true.

“I don’t.” He forced a chuckle to ease the tension but y/n wasn’t having it.

“Can I tell you something?” y/n asked. Richie nodded, a quizzical look on his face. Before continuing, y/n swallowed. She didn’t usually get nervous, but Richie was someone to get nervous over. “I like you.”

Her words felt like something out of a dream Richie once had before.

“What can I say, kid. It’s impossible not to.” Of course, y/n didn’t really like him. At least, not like that. She was probably just saying this for shits and giggles. Pulling his leg. A classic Richie stunt.

“I mean, I like you like how Ben likes Beverly.”

Richie’s eyes then widened at the declaration and his body stiffened.

“It’s okay if you don’t like me back,” she said with such ease that Richie admired. She shrugged and the thin strap of her tank top fell down her shoulder. Richie couldn’t help but notice, his eyes wandering where they shouldn’t.

“Listen—” He gulped. His eyes kept trailing down no matter how hard he tried not to. “Listen,” he repeated, now meeting her big eyes, “I don’t not like you, y/n/n. In fact the funny thing is… is—” his words got caught in his throat. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her. Not with Stan’s breathing always down his back (whether Stan was actually there or not).

“What’s so funny, Rich?” Her soft, sweet voice filled his ears once again. It was like a spell, because suddenly (and conveniently), the thought of Stan was no longer in the back of Richie’s mind.

“I like you too, kid.” His voice was low, but y/n still heard him.

“So what’s stopping this?” A sly smirk formed on y/n’s face. She climbed over the control panel and her already short skirt rode up to be even higher.

y/n sat herself on Richie’s lap. The boy had to keep from pinching himself. What was happening was straight out of a wet dream of his he’d probably had last night.

The girl on his lap was toying with a strand of his hair while looking into his eyes. Her shoulder was still bare from the strap that fell off it.

“I’m so glad you feel the same way.” Richie didn’t think he could help himself any longer with the sultry way she was speaking and the fact that she was on his lap. “Now I can do this.”

y/n placed a tender kiss to the awestruck boy’s lips. It was slow and steady. She didn’t want to mess things up since they had just admitted their feelings to one another.

But Richie was impatient.

As soon as she pulled away, he connected his lips to hers again. He was sloppy and fast paced with his movements, yet still full of passion.

y/n giggled into his mouth which caused Richie’s heart to skip a beat. She’d been waiting for this moment since she first laid eyes on him.

The first time Richie stepped foot into the Uris household, y/n had greeted him excitedly.

“y/n could you get that!” Stan shouted to her from their den. He was busy setting up board games, making sure every last piece was in its designated place.

“Why do I have to?” y/n grumbled, still walking out of her room so she could get to the door anyway. “You were closer.”

“I’m preparing for game night. This is the first time my friends are coming over and I want everything to be suitable.” Stan was polishing the game pieces now.

“I don’t think your friends will mind if one of your little thing-a-ma-bobs is out of place.” y/n jokingly tipped over one of the players to Stanley’s game that he had already put into place but she quickly put it back upon noticing the discontent that marked his face as she did so.

“I’ll mind.” Her brother replied calmly.

Another knock at the door.

“Can you please get that?”

y/n got up and walked over to the door. She was first met with a lanky boy whose legs were too long for his torso and eyes were too big for his face.

She didn’t expect Stan’s friends to be hot.

“Hi!” y/n exclaimed, hoping to give off a good impression on the group.

“I didn’t know Stan had an underaged maid. I guess the Uris’ will do anything for labor work.” No one laughed at Richies joke.

“That’s Stan’s sister, dipwad,” Eddie said, disgusted at his friend.

Richie made an ‘o’ shape with his mouth and the group shuffled in, meeting Stan in the den.

“Stan you never told me you had a hottie for a sister.” y/n could hear Richie’s voice from across the hall. Her intestines turned into butterflies and she could pass for a canary with how red her face had gotten.

But despite having the hugest crush on Richie, y/n never shared any classes with the boy. She was a year younger than Stan, but in the same grade as him because of the accelerated classes she took. So y/n had to admire from afar.

Well, not anymore.

Her lips were now attached to his neck, eliciting a moan from him. She smirked at that and started to roll her hips against his. Her name fell from his lips over and over and over again which evoked her to keep going.

“Richie!?” An angered voice called from the outside of his car.

It was the one and only. Stanley Uris.

It was too late to act fast. Richie pulled y/n off him and looked guiltily out the window to see the face that matched the voice.

But Richie already knew who it was.

“Who me? I dink you ghat de wrahng goey.” Richie did his best Irish man accent but it was no use.

“Okay, Richie, cut the crap.” Stan’s face was twisted up in an expression that almost scared Richie. His hands were folded against his chest and he was waiting for an answer.

Richie simply couldn’t bring himself to answer the boy. He sat in shame with y/n next to him staring at her brother. Richie may as well have had ‘I’M SORRY’ written on his forehead with the way he was gaping at Stan.

“y/n get out of the car.” Stan said, breaking eye contact with his friend.

The girl complied, whispering about how sorry she was to the boy who drove her home before getting out. After that, she didn’t dare glance back at him in his car and Richie didn’t have the energy to even look anywhere besides the steering wheel.

That was last week. Since then, Stan and Richie hadn’t said a word to each other. Richie hadn’t spoken to y/n since then either. The tension was too thick between Stan and Richie and Richie didn’t want to mess things up more than he already did.

“I c-cuh-can’t believe yo-you liked y/n.” Bill chuckled.

It was after school and the two were in the library. The details of what happened that day eventually got out. Both Stan and Richie had told their sides of the story and the losers were respectful enough to not take sides. They just hung out with Richie when Stan wasn’t around and hung out with Stan when Richie wasn’t there.

“What’s so bad about that?” Richie looked skeptically at his friend, trying his best to defend himself.

“I mean, yea-yeah sh-sh-she’s cute—”

“She’s beautiful.” Richie cut off but Bill rolled his eyes.

“What-h-ever. I-it’s just funny tha-hat you wuh-would go after her.”

“I already told you she kissed me first.” Richie proclaimed, a little too proudly.

“Sh-he’s Stan’s sister!” That was true.

“And a good kisser.” That was also true.

“Gross, Richie.” Bill returned to the book in front of him, but Richie kept egging on the conversation.

“I don’t see why someone has to be off limits just because they’re related to a friend.” His annoyed tone was evident and Bill gave him a sympathetic look.

“It-t’s b-ba-basically written in th-the br-r-ro code.” Bill paused for a moment and Richie didn’t know if it was because he was embarrassed of his stuttering or if he was gathering his thoughts. “But i-i-if you li-li-like her… wh-who am I to s-suh-say any-th-thing.”

If Bill was insinuating what Richie thought he was, then that made him cooler than he already was.

And that’s how Richie found himself in y/n’s room Friday night. The losers were meeting up at the Aladdin to see the new Jim Carrey movie and somehow Richie had been able to get himself out of it, claiming he was overdue on chores and couldn’t make it.

“Th-that’s t-too bad, R-Rich.” Bill said over the phone (but he knew better) while the other losers pressed their ear up against it, listening in. “The c-co-omedy should be ri-right up your alley.”

“Dumb and underdeveloped?” Eddie asked Bill. “I don’t wanna see a movie just to hate it,” he complained.

“Yowza, Eds. And I thought you appreciated my jokes.” Richie feigned hurt over the speaker. “Anywho, I gotta make like a tree and hang up. The ‘rents are asking for me.” They weren’t.

“O-okay. Maybe nuh-nuh-next wee—” Beep.

Richie had already hung up.

y/n grabbed his hand, which was clamped over her mouth and took it off. She was bursting to the seams with laughter.

“I can’t believe you’re a liar now,” she tsked, trying to fake an ‘I’m-not-mad-at-you-just-disappointed’ look that her English teacher had given her once.

“Only under these circumstances.” He was fast to attach his lips to hers. They didn’t have much time and he wanted to make the most of what they had now.

Richie was on top of her now, his lips still on hers. He kissed her everywhere from the crown of her head to the crook of her neck. If his kisses left a print, her skin would be buried under them.

“Rich…” She sighed contentedly, eyes fluttering from the pleasure he inflicted on her when he had found a sweet spot behind her ear. y/n kissed him back hard with force and a sort of dominance Richie didn’t know she had in her.

She flipped them, so that she was on top now. y/n took this liberty of having full control to take off her shirt and Richie’s as well.

Richie smirked and began to kiss lower. His pace was slower than he originally started. Painstakingly slow. y/n wined at how delicate his lips felt tracing her skin but she needed more.

“Touch me,” she urged. Richie obeyed, his hands were now on her chest, massaging and caressing her delicate skin.

There weren’t enough words to describe the thrill and satisfaction Richie gave her. y/n could relish in this boy’s embrace forever with how good he made her feel. She began grinding against his jeans, just like the day they were caught by Stanley, so she could ease the ache for him between his legs.

Richie chuckled, feeling her press against him. He knew precisely what she wanted but to give or not to give in was the question.

“y/n/n, we don’t have that long,” He warned.

“I don’t care.” She started peppering his face in kisses the same way he had done to her. At the same time, she began to unbutton his jeans. Who would Richie be to turn down sex anyway?

She was fast at getting him inside her. Definitely not inexperienced. But Richie didn’t want fast. Not with y/n, at least. He wanted their first together to be slow, sensual, special—

“You’re amazing,” he grunted and she blushed in response.

Her pace quickened at his praise. Their movements together felt electric and y/n herself was so hypnotic, Richie felt he could get lost in the thought—or the feeling —of her forever.

A feeling that was indescribable washed over Richie once the two of them were finished. He had stayed inside of her, and y/n was now laying on his chest, listening to his heartbeat and tracing circles on his skin with her thumb. Their chests rose and fell together at the same time, a small action that Richie melted at the sight of.

“For the record, I didn’t want it to happen like this,” Richie said. There was a sort of fear palpable in his tone.

“For the record, you kissed me first.” y/n eyed him suspiciously before giving him a peck on the cheek. “And what does that mean? Did you…” She shyly decided on her words for a moment. “Did you not want to..?”

“No, no, no, no.” Richie immediately counteracted the girl’s suggestion. “I so wanted to do this. I’ve dreamed about doing this—” Richie stopped himself before his talking could make things worse, but y/n found his rambling amusing.

“So, what did you mean?” y/n tried again. She reached out to hold his hand, intertwining her fingers with his.

“I mean.” He let out a sigh before continuing. “I wanted us to be, like, an official couple and shit before we do this shit.” He motioned between them and to where they were still joined.

y/n flushed at the sight and covered her face.

“Hey.” Richie was soft. Softer than y/n had ever seen him be. He took her wrists in his hands, uncovering her face so he could admire her.

She was stunning even after sex.

“I don’t want this to be a one time thing.” He was almost embarrassed to admit it, but with y/n he didn’t feel the need to be afraid. “I want us to go on dates and hold hands and tell each other about our day.” He was looking at the ceiling, daydreaming at the thought.

y/n’s eyes searched his face thoughtfully. “Of course, Rich. I want that, too!” She kissed his lips once more, elated at the boy in front of her. Her face fell shortly after she had a sudden understanding. “What’re you gonna do about Stan?”

“Who’s Stan?” But Richie’s fake grin wasn’t fooling anyone. “Uh, well, we could tell him…” But when Richie saw a certain uneasiness consume y/n’s face, he ruled that option out. “How do you feel about dating in secret?” He offered. The situation wasn’t ideal, but at the time it seemed to be the lesser of the two evils at hand.

“Okay,” y/n whispered. “So you should leave.”

“Woah, babe, I just got here.” Richie sat up, looking for his shirt.

“Yeah, but the movie should’ve ended by now.” y/n gestured towards the alarm clock on her nightstand causing Richie’s jaw to drop.

He was heading towards the window now, knowing he had enough time to get out, but he wanted to be careful.

“See you tomorrow then?” y/n giggled at how clingy he could be.

“I’ll call you.” And Richie just couldn’t get enough of the smile she was wearing.

“Sounds like a date!” He yelled from outside her house.

During the drive home, Richie’s thoughts became lost in y/n once again. This was just the beginning.

#it 2017 #it 2019 #it chapter 1 #it chapter 2 #it x reader #it imagine #it fanfic #it fic #richie tozier #it richie #richie tozier x reader #richie x reader #richie tozier imagine #richie tozier fanfiction #richie tozier fic #richie tozier scenario #richie tozier fluff #richie tozier smut #bruh can this be classified as smut idk

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good-doctor-imagine · 5 years ago

Text

Crush (Bill Denbrough)

Pairing: Bill Denbrough x Reader

Summary: Bill doubts that you like him because you’re flirty around everyone but Richie is determined to prove him differently.

Requested by anon: “hii! could you do a fic where bill has a huge crush on the reader and reader is very flirty w/ everyone and the losers are trying to get bill to ask y/n out? i was also thinking about using the prompts “Wow, a great idea, but I’d rather die.”, “OH you’re jealous!”, and “Are you flirting with me?” “You finally noticed?” ty”

Word Count: 3.4k

Warning(s): swearing, mention of parents arguing, the word daddy, not proofread

Bill could not be more obvious when it comes to his crush on you. Every time you talked to him, his face would light up like his tree on Christmas. His stutter would be significantly worse to the point where he has to take a breather. When you were ever in the vicinity, he would just stare at you longingly.

His crush on you might be a surprise to some. You weren’t necessarily a part of the losers club but you were nice enough to talk to them. Bill made it a point to apologize to you every time someone gave you trouble for hanging out around them, but you always brushed it off. You weren’t that worried about your image anyway, you just wanted to have fun with friends.

Any time you sat with the losers club at lunch it would always be hectic. You were known for being a bit flirty interacting with others. Instead of being reserved like a lot of people, you were pretty hands-on.

“Oh, Richie is this a new shirt?” Without thinking, your hand came up and grabbed the collar of Richie’s floral-patterned button-up, rubbing it between your fingers.

“Yeah, sweetheart. You like it?”

“It looks cute on you,” You smiled back, a giggle leaving your throat before you retracted your hand.

While you weren’t best friends with Richie, both of your personalities mixed well when you were with each other. You both would try to one-up each other somehow when it came to flirting but you would always change the subject if Richie started making crude jokes.

Along with your physical affection, a few months ago you decided to give all of the losers their own pet name. Eddie’s is cutie, Richie’s is handsome, Ben’s is angel, Stanley’s is prince, and Mike’s is hot stuff. When Beverly lived in Derry, you would always call her love.

To his dismay, Bill didn’t really get a pet name. You always used different ones: babe, sugar, pumpkin, precious, literally anything you came up with. Bill would be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a bit jealous when it came to the affection you showed the rest of the losers.

Bill wasn’t in the best of moods and the rest of the losers noticed. Stanley attempted to cheer him up a bit but he didn’t really know what was wrong with him. That was until you met them. They were in the losers clubhouse when you decided to climb in. They were a bit surprised because they only showed you the location once but you managed to memorize the way there. Plus, Richie secretly invited you to spend time with them that day.

“Hey sweet cheeks, glad you could make it,” Richie grinned, head peeking over his comic book.

You smiled back at him. “Thanks for inviting me, Handsome.”

Although he was happy (albeit a bit nervous) that you were there, Richie’s pet name made his eyes roll. His mood was dropping by the second. Richie made sure to keep his eye on Bill as you made your way towards him.

“What’cha doing?” You asked Bill, leaning over his shoulder to see what he was writing.

His face started to heat up as he angled his arm to cover some of the paper. Bill didn’t want you to read what he was writing, even if you liked it. There was always the possibility of you not enjoying it or lying that you did.

In the other corner of the room, Richie was smiling widely but hid his face behind the comic book he was pretending to read. Step one was complete.

“Hey, sweet cheeks, want to read with me?”

Just like that, Bill’s face was drained of color, all of the red beginning to form disappeared. Your head swiveled towards Richie, to see what he was talking about. You were almost hesitant with your actions, your hand lingering on the back of Bill’s chair as you left.

Richie didn’t even try to hide his grin when you sat next to him in the hammock, the small space making you sit practically on top of him. You sat with Richie for quite a while, not having to worry about being kicked off because Eddie wasn’t there. While you were genuinely reading the comic, Richie’s eyes were glued on Bill, soaking in any reaction he could get.

“Richie, are you still reading this page?”

Your voice shocked him out of his trance. “Sorry, baby, I’m a slow reader. When you’re done with a page, you can just tap me and I’ll turn it.” Richie made sure that whenever you tapped him from them on, he would turn the page as he said. When it came to his next move, Richie was thankful that Bill was facing them, a large frown present of his face.

Being the cheesy bastard he was, Richie stretched his arm out as he yawned and gently maneuvered his arm to rest behind your head. You looked up at Richie and rose an eyebrow at him in question. Usually, Richie would just flirt with his words but this time, he wanted to get a reaction.

And he was successful. Bill was very expressive when it came to his emotions, even if he didn’t want to be. As soon as Richie’s arm was over your shoulder, Bill’s jaw clenched and the pen in his hand was starting to bend from the amount of force he was exerting on it.

Luckily enough for him, you actually had to leave not long after the incident. You apologized to the group for not being able to stay long (which they didn’t mind anyway) before leaving the clubhouse with a proud trashmouth and an angry best friend.

When Richie figured you were far enough that you couldn’t hear them, he set his comic book down and peeked over at Bill who still looked as annoyed as before.

“What’s up Bill?” Richie teased, although he tried his best to come off as genuine, “You look like someone killed your cat.”

Bill’s face scrunched up as he faced his friend. Bill knew well why he looked upset but he wasn’t sure if he wanted the other losers to know. “It’s nothing. Just can’t think.”

The trashmouth rose his head as if to say he understood, making Bill turn his attention back to the paper in front of him. Richie didn’t want the situation to die from there, his main goal was to get a reaction from Bill and he wasn’t going to stop until Bill admitted that he had feelings for you.

“Wasn’t Y/n cute today?” Richie sighed, his body sinking into the hammock. He smiled as Bill’s head shot up at your name. Bingo.

“What do you mean?” Stanley questioned from the corner of the room, his eyes steady on Richie as if he was studying him.

“Ah, I don’t know,” Richie sighed again, “It’s just they looked really cute today, don’t you think, Bill?” Bill couldn’t help his breath from getting stuck in his throat as everyone’s eyes landed on him.

“I-I think Y-Y-Y/n looks c-cute e-e-every d-day.”

Shit! I wasn’t supposed to say that! I was supposed to say they looks the same as every other day, dumbass!

In an instant, Richie’s face lit up in amusement. This was going better than he planned. Sitting up so he could see Bill fully, he decided to continue egging on his best friend.

“Oh, really? Which outfit do you like the best? Personally, I think the outfit they wore to school yesterday was my favorite. Like everyone was staring at them—”

“Shut up, Richie,” Bill shot at him, his upper lip curling as he sneered at his friend. He wasn’t going to lie, you did look good yesterday and, yes, everyone was staring at you but that didn’t mean they should. Thinking about everyone looking at you makes Bill’s stomach turn, especially if it was Richie.

“OH you’re jealous?” Richie laughed, his eyes wide as he sent a crazed look to his blushing friend. The other losers were deathly quiet and they watched the scene unfold in front of them.

“What are you talking about?” Bill tried to act dumb, squinting his eyes at Richie’s antics.

Bending over in the hammock, Richie let out a heavy laugh. “Can you believe that, Stanley? Big Bill has a crush!”

Stanley bit his tongue as his eyes shot between his two friends. Whatever was happening, he did not want to be in the middle of it. Bill couldn’t even hide his embarrassment, his face was bright red and his mouth was open to speak but nothing was coming out.

“H-H-How,” Bill stumbled. There was no way he could lie to his friends, not all of them were idiots.

“It’s so obvious,” Richie pointed out after wiping the tears from his cheeks. “You’re head over heels for them. You’re practically drooling at every move they make.” Bill was speechless, shocked by the bluntness of his friend. “You should just ask them out already.”

Now that is what smacked Bill out of his shock. There was absolutely no way that he could do that. You didn’t even like him like that. “W-Wow, a g-g-great i-idea, but I’d r-rather d-die,” Bill scoffed, his eyes landing on the ground.

Richie tried not to deflate from his friend’s depressed attitude. “Why not?”

“I m-mean, th-th-they’re a-amazing but they don’t l-li-like me like th-that. I don’t th-think they e-even like m-me a-as much as y-y-you guys.”

“What makes you think that?” Stanley speaks up, raising his eyebrows at Bill as he thought about his relationship with you. It was like all of his insecurities were coming back to bite him in the butt.

“Well,” Bill mumbled, his voice becoming softer. He felt almost too embarrassed to admit it. “I-I don’t e-e-even have a-a ni-nickname.”

Richie’s retracted, putting a hand on his chest to be dramatic. Stanley was still calm, beckoning for Bill to explain.

“I-It’s hard to t-t-tell if th-they’re e-even into me b-b-because it’s like th-they’re into e-e-everyone. P-Plus, you a-all have n-n-nicknames. Richie, th-they call you H-Handsome, and St-Stanley, they call y-y-you Prince. W-What do they c-c-call me? B-Bill. I think it’s o-o-obvious e-enough.”

Richie couldn’t help but feel a bit disheartened by his statements but he knew what he was talking about. Bill was right to feel that way, you were a bit flirtatious by nature and you did have a nickname for everyone in the group but him.

However, Richie could see how much you cared for him. Even if you were talking to Richie, your focus would be on Bill. He saw the way you could always position yourself so you could see Bill and the way your eyes would be glued to Bill as Richie tried to talk to you. It may be hard for Bill to realize your feelings but it was always obvious to Richie.

Despite wanting to shoot Bill’s negative thoughts down, Richie held his tongue. If he said anything, he knew that Bill would deny him. You liked him; Bill needed to hear it for himself and Richie was determined to help his friend realize it.

The next day, Richie called you and asked if he could come over. Out of curiosity and confusion, you said yes. Richie and you might shoot jokes at each other every now and then but you two never really spoke out of the group. If he needed to talk to you privately, it must be something important.

When he finally arrives, you make sure he’s okay first by scanning over him. For all you know, he could have gotten into a fight and you were the only person he could call. You quickly realized that absolutely nothing was wrong with him when he shot you a grin.

“Wow, checking me out so early in the morning?”

“Shut up Richie,” You dismissed him but you couldn’t help but smile at his playfulness. That was part of the reason why you two got along so well. “Why are you here?”

Before he said anything, Richie looked around to make sure no one was around him, specifically any of the losers. “Can I come in?”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you opened the door slowly, suspicious of what he was going to talk about. The loud mouth not saying anything until he was inside where no one could hear him but you was a bit nervewracking. It took a little bit for Richie to get settled, choosing to sink into your couch the moment he stepped into the living room.

“Now can you tell me why you’re here?”

“Tell me, what do you like about Bill?” Richie asked, his tone light like he was a proper mother (part of him felt like he was).

It took more than you thought to keep yourself from shaking at his question. How in the world did he know? No, you didn’t try to hide it but you just assumed that everyone would be oblivious to your feelings because you acted close to everyone. Richie saw right through you.

“H-How did you–”

“You’re just like Bill, I swear,” Richie sighed, cutting you off. You were standing in front of him as still as ice. You were frozen and sweating by the sudden anxiousness that coursed through you. “It’s really pretty obvious as long as you pay attention. I’m not dumb, y’know?”

Part of you tried not to laugh at his last statement, your mind flashing back to the time in class when he questioned why letters were involved in math. When Richie cleared his throat, you realized your situation. You could fully admit that you like Bill and face the consequences and the teasing or you don’t admit that you like Bill, have to keep lying, and still face and consequences and the teasing.

“Fine, I like Bill,” You admitted, “But it’s not just because he’s really cute okay? He’s a genuinely nice person and he’s really funny. Actually, he’s the only person I feel like I can really laugh with. Not only that but he’s also a really talented wri–”

“Okay, okay!” Richie interrupted, waving his hands up, “I didn’t ask for a whole essay!”

You went quiet and hung your head, trying to hide your embarrassment. By no means did you want to rant about Bill to his best friend, especially Richie. There’s no way you’re not going to be teased now.

“Look, I know Bill likes you too–”

“Really?” Your head shot up, eyes lighting up in excitement. Was he serious? Bill really liked you back? This is like a dream come true.

“Oh my god,” Richie grumbled, smacking his forehead, “Are you blind? Anyway, that’s not why I’m here. Bill feels like you don’t like him because you don’t have a pet name for him.”

Your face scrunched up as you stared at Richie, shaking your head to him to explain.

“Everyone in the group has pet names, even Beverly and she’s not even here anymore. He just feels left out because of it. And he’s as stupid as you and can’t take a hint.”

You ignored the last part of his confession and thought to yourself. You give just about everyone a pet name, it is a way that you show your affection but it felt kind of weird to do that with Bill. Bill was someone you seriously cared about and you didn’t want to show him the same affection as everyone else. He was someone you liked differently.

However, you can see how that could look bad on your part. Not giving him a nickname like everyone else could make him feel different, and not the good kind of different. You tried out a few on him here or there but none of them felt right. He was special to you and you felt like the pet names you gave everyone didn’t fit him.

“You’re right, I am an idiot. I didn’t even realize…” You trailed off as you thought about how Bill has acted strangely the past few weeks. Every time you went to hang out with his group he was always paying attention to you, watching your every move. You’ve been using your nicknames for them a lot recently, especially since you’re finding yourself wanting to sit with them more, and every time you would say hi to Bill without a nickname of his own, his mood would sour.

As you sank to the ground in disappointment, Richie’s smile grew. Richie swore he was a mastermind as he would see all of the puzzle pieces falling into place. Maybe in the future, he should become a matchmaker– no. He can’t even handle his own problems, let alone ten more. Plus, he’s not that good with customer service.

“Don’t worry too hard.” Richie’s smile was as big as it could get as he watched you look up at him defeated. “I’ve got a plan.”

Monday was going terribly for Bill. The start of his day was like no other, brushing his teeth and getting dressed. When he went downstairs, though, his parents started to argue again. It had been a while since their last argument and he finally thought that they were over it now, but they seemed to go into the same routine.

He tried to leave as soon as he could but in that rush, he forgot to grab his rain jacket. Lucky for him, it started to rain on his way to school! By the time he arrived, Bill was thoroughly soaked and had to ask for another change of clothes.

When he got the clothes, however, he wished that he never asked for them. He was given an annoyingly bright yellow stained T-shirt and some ripped jeans muddled with dirt. Despite his protests, the office ladies were quick to convince him into changing.

He didn’t even look at you that morning, too embarrassed by how he looked to interact with you. You didn’t really care, Bill looked cute regardless of the stained clothes he was forced to wear.

Out of everything, Bill was not looking forward to lunch. Normally, he would be elated that you were going to spend time with the club but he felt something off. Even this morning, he could feel your eyes lingering on him. Maybe he was just overreacting, but Bill was starting to get anxious.

While he was staring off in space, you snuck up behind him, glancing at Richie as you leaned next to Bill’s ear.

“Hey, daddy.”

Almost instantaneously, the water in Bill’s mouth spewed across the table, causing for Richie to jump out of his seat. While Richie was holding up his hands in disgust, Bill was busy coughing from the water he accidentally inhaled. You were shocked at his reaction but you eventually started to laugh, amused by his reaction.

When he was done coughing, Bill sent Eddie and Richie an apologetic look.

“S-Sorry Bill,” You tried to settle down but giggles kept escaping your throat. “I didn’t expect you to react like that.”

Bill looked at you, his eyes wide. “W-Wha-Why?”

You looked over at Richie, making sure it was okay to tell Bill but he was too distracted trying to dry his clothes.

“I just thought you looked really cute,” You shrugged, hoping Bill would go along with it. You weren’t exactly lying, Bill did look really cute. Bill didn’t shrug it off this time, instead his eyes squinted at you as you continued to ramble. “See!” You pointed at Bill’s face as he pouted a bit, “You’re just so cute it’s hard to resist– I mean, you can’t really blame me, can you?”

“W-W-Wait,” Bill stopped you, blinking as he tried to process what you were saying. “A-Are you fl-flirting w-w-with m-me?”

“You finally noticed?” Richie shouted, throwing his arms up as he looked at Bill incredulously. He felt good that Bill was finally realizing your feelings, but he definitely did not expect being spit on as payment.

You smiled as BIll’s mouth hung open, his eyes not moving from yours. He was shocked, that was for sure.

“A-Are you serious?” Bill spoke up although his voice was quiet.

“Bill, I’ve liked you for a while.”

“B-But I th-thought y-y-you–”

“Richie told me that you didn’t feel like I liked you because I didn’t give you a nickname, so I gave you one!” As Bill stumbled over his words, you were grinning, amused by how he was frozen by such a simple action. “So, I’ll see you later for our date?” You asked, your eyebrow raising.

Bill didn’t think that his face could get any warmer but it did. He felt like dying, sweat starting to roll down the palms of his hands. “D-D-Date? L-Later?”

“Yeah,” You confirmed, nodding your head. Before you left, you patted his shoulder and sure to send him a wink. “See you after class.”

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askfandomprompts · 5 years ago

Note

could you write a reddie x daughter fic?

“Daddy!” The little girl’s foot stomped against the floor, her tiny fists pressed to her hips. Richie had to school his face to not give away how hilariously cute he found this whole situation. Eddie had already given him that look twice this week when he burst out laughing at their daughter’s tantrums.

Their daughter. Olivia. The Princess, their heart, all wrapped up in messy brown curls and Eddie’s eyes. Shit. Three years in and Richie still hadn’t figured out how to wrap his brain around that.

He crouched down in front of her, lips twitching as she gave him a glare, a perfect mirror image of Eddie’s. “How can I help you, princess?”

“Daddy, you’re suppos’t take me to papa now.” Her little face scrunched up as she tried to be stern. “For dinner.”

Richie’s eyes went to the clock over his desk. Shit. “You’re right, little one. I got busy with work and playing with you, didn’t I?”

She nodded, a grin bursting out across her face, sunshine and glory all at once. “Yeah! But we made castle.”

Enough imagination and joy and giggles made stacks of pillows into a fairy castle. Worked every time.

“Sure did.” Richie lifted Olivia up, spinning her around just to hear her laugh. That full-belly laugh that made Richie feel like he could fucking do anything. He spent his whole life trying to make people laugh, and now the only thing that mattered to him was this little girl’s smile. “You hungry?”

Olivia nodded, which made sense. He was already a half hour late for leaving, and Eddie was definitely going to kill him for that. “Well, let’s call papa and let him know we’re on our way.”

“I do it!” Olivia held out a chubby hand for Richie’s phone. She was probably more proficient on the damn thing than he was, but Richie held it back.

“How about I put him on speaker while we get your shoes on, huh?”

He set Olivia down, putting the phone next to them on the couch while he knelt to get on her sneakers. Eddie’s phone rang barely twice before his irritated voice came through the speaker. “You’re going to be late, aren’t you? Damn it, Richie, I--”

“You’re on speaker, babe,” Richie called out, again doing everything he could to hold back laughter. “Ollie here wanted to say hi.”

“Papa!” Olivia shrieked, grabbing the phone and kissing it. “Hi!”

“I’m putting her shoes on right now,” Richie assured his husband, fighting with the velcro. Stupid stuff stuck everywhere.

Eddie’s voice had changed immediately to that soft croon he got whenever he talked to their daughter. He was happily chatting with her about their day, about how daddy and her had played and now they were all going out to dinner. Richie shoved his feet into his boots and scooped up the kid, the diaper bag, and the phone before heading out the door.

“Babe, why don’t we just meet you at the restaurant?”

Eddie hesitated before sighing. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. Sorry, just--” He trailed off, but Richie knew what was going on.

“Look, you’re going to crush that presentation tomorrow. I promise. You’re ready, Eds.”

A pause and Richie knew exactly the face Eddie was making. The You don’t know what you’re talking about and you’re just saying nice things because you have to face. But he waited it out, until finally Eddie agreed, “You’re right, I can’t do any more prep now. It’s either going to go or not.”

“Meet us at the restaurant. Get us a table and order me a whisk--” Shit. Richie cleared his throat and shook his head. “A coke.”

“Okay, sweetheart. Love your face.”

“Love your face, too.”

Richie hung up so he could get Olivia strapped into her car seat. It wasn’t too far of a drive to get to their favorite restaurant. Not Chinese food had been their one requirement when looking for someplace they could go to regularly. Neither one of them ever wanted to go to a Chinese restaurant again, thanks. But this cute Italian place that did killer lasagna and great pizza was perfect. They’d celebrated their anniversary there, their anniversary of the first time they kissed, they’d had their first bathroom fuck there, celebrated the success of the insemination of their surrogate, Olivia’s birth, and spent numerous birthdays and bad days and makeup sex days there. It was theirs. A routine.

Something Richie never once thought he’d want.

Until Eddie. Until they’d gotten a second chance - well, technically they were on their third chance - and Richie had finally gotten the balls to actually express an emotion. Five years ago, hip deep in sewage and Evil Clown juice, Richie couldn’t have imagined he’d be in a family. A real, stable, every day family.

They got to the restaurant, Eddie waiting for them out front. “I thought you were going to get us a--” Richie almost got all of the words out before Eddie was kissing him. Grinning against Eddie’s lips, Richie wrapped his free arm around Eddie’s waist, pulling him in.

“I didn’t want to wait a second longer to say hi to my two best loves.”

Olivia giggled, diving from Richie’s hold to Eddie’s arms. Eddie and Olivia had their own little language, their own little world, and Richie loved that. Loved how much they loved each other.

His family. The two pieces of his heart that lived outside his body, that gave meaning to his every damn breath.

God. He’d kill a thousand more fucking clowns to have five minutes of this.

“Should we go in, sweetheart?” Eddie was looking up at Richie with those big, beautiful eyes. The ones he saw so clearly in Olivia’s.

Richie grinned, kissing Eddie again, then pressing his lips to Olivia’s forehead. “Yeah. Let’s go, babe.”

Goddamn. He could conquer the world. So long as he had this, Richie didn’t need anything else.

#fic #anon #ask #reddie #eddie kasprak #richie tozier #sorry it's been years since i wrote a fic #i have no idea what i'm doing #but here you go anon!

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cocastyle · 5 years ago

Text

Change - Ch. 2 | F I V E

Pairing - Bill Denbrough x reader

Word Count - 6,390

A/N - sorry for the wait but I’m going to be starting college soon so I’ve been busy with family, friends, and buying stuff for my dorm. I’m hoping to start writing updates again so here’s the first one many! let me know what you think especially with Greyson in the mix because I just love him so much! also, let me know if you like me including the flashbacks because I kind of loved it and was thinking about including more than what is just in the movie!

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

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F I V E - Remember

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

Y/N stared up at the Derry Townhouse in front of her, a sick feeling in her stomach as she realized that she had to go in there and convince her friends to stay. If there was any shot of them defeating It, it had to be with all of them there. That's how they defeated It last time and that was the only way they would be able to defeat It this time.

She knew her friends would think she was crazy. She was well aware of the fact. Y/N just wasn't sure what she was going to say or if she was even ready to face them after what they had all just found out. She wasn't ready for the looks of pity or the reminders of Stan especially since her heart was already so fragile that one more blow might actually kill her.

The woman found herself spiraling down a whirlpool of her own thoughts and she would've only gotten worse if it weren't for Greyson gently grabbing ahold of her hand and giving it a squeeze. Y/N glanced at the boy, his red eyes matching hers despite the small reassuring smile on his face.

Y/N really didn't deserve Greyson as a son. It was almost too good to be true.

"Together," Greyson whispered, reminding her once again that she wasn't alone no matter how much she felt like she was without Stan. Y/N gave a short nod and squeezed Greyson's hand once before the two began walking up the steps of the townhouse.

They were inside within seconds and were instantly met with Richie yelling at Ben and Beverly with his bag hanging from his shoulder, "Whatever you guys are talking about, let's make it happen fast, alright? We got to go." He turned towards the stairs and yelled up, "Edwardo, andele! Let's go!"

Richie then seemed to notice the presence of Y/N and Greyson and let out a small sigh of relief. "I don't know where the fuck you've been, but go grab your shit. We're getting out of here pronto," Richie announced as he walked over to behind the girl and began lightly shoving her towards the steps. "Come on, Uris. Move it."

"Rich, I can't," Y/N managed to say, her words causing the man to freeze before letting out a loud laugh.

"Real funny, Y/N. Now come on. I'm not leaving here until I know you're safe and on your way home," Richie insisted as he tried to move her again.

"Richie," Y/N sighed, but the man was barely listening to her as he caught wind of Beverly and Ben's conversation in which Y/N and Greyson couldn't help but listen to either.

"There's something you're not telling us. You knew how Stanley died. You knew," Ben said, his words making the three wide eyed while Beverly just remained silent.

"Wait, what?" Richie questioned as he let go of Y/N and walked into the small parlor the pair was in. Y/N quickly followed after, coming to a stop beside Richie while Greyson came up behind them.

"You. . .knew?" Y/N whispered, a flicker of hurt flashing through her eyes while Beverly lowered her gaze to the floor.

"I can't do this," Beverly muttered before brushing past the four and attempting to walk away into a different room.

"She knew how Stanley was going to die? Is that what she just said?" Richie asked, but Ben and Y/N were already following after the red head. Richie glanced to Greyson who merely shrugged. The man noticed his red eyes and sighed before placing a hand on the kid's shoulder in comfort as they walked after the three.

"You can't just walk away from this," Ben insisted while Beverly rapidly rang the bell at the front desk. "How did you know where he killed himself? Bev."

The red head ignored them and moved around the counter. "Talk to me. Just talk to me like we used to!" Ben exclaimed, but when his attempts still didn't work, Y/N stepped in and was quick to stand in front of the girl to stop her from moving.

Beverly was quiet as she stared at Y/N, the later staring at the red head in a mixture of pain and sadness as she reached out to grab onto Beverly's hand. "Bev, please," Y/N whispered, her eyes flickering over the girl's face as she desperately squeezed her hand.

If Beverly had known that Stan was going to die, Y/N needed to know how and why. It just didn't make sense. None of this did. And Y/N really just wanted the whole picture. She deserved that much.

Beverly let out a shaky breath, tears beginning to fill her eyes as she whispered, "Because I saw it. I've seen all of us die, even—" She trailed off as her eyes flickered over to Greyson. Y/N's breath caught in her throat and she glanced back at her son who stared back wide eyed while Richie tightened his grip on the boy's shoulder.

A heavy silence fell among the group as Beverly's words began to sink in. No one even bothered glancing at Eddie who was noisily making his way down the stairs with his two bags that kept banging against the wooden railing and wall.

"Okay. I just got to grab my toiletry bag and then we can go," Eddie announced as he reached the bottom of the stairs. He set his bags down and looked up at the group, pausing almost instantly at the looks on their faces while Y/N finally glanced over at him. The look she gave him made his blood run cold.

"What'd I miss?"

- - -

"Okay, so what do you mean that you've seen us all die?" Eddie questioned, not being able to fathom what Beverly meant. Y/N just put her head in her hands, the regret of deciding to stay coursing through her body while Greyson just sat silent by her side at the mini bar in the room they were in.

"Yeah, cause I got to be honest. That's a fucked up thing to just drop on somebody," Richie muttered.

"Every night since Derry I've been. . .having these nightmares," Beverly explained. "People in pain. People dying. People—" She fell short as a look of horror and pain flashed across her face.

"So you have nightmares?" Eddie questioned as he stopped next to Y/N's chair and leaned against the back. "I have nightmares. People, they have nightmares. But that doesn't mean that your visions are true."

He nudged Y/N and the woman glanced back at him to find Eddie giving her a look as if to ask her to back him up, but for once she couldn't. Y/N just looked away and Eddie swallowed thickly, dread washing over him as he looked to Beverly.

"I've watched every single one of us this week," Beverly whispered, her words making Y/N lean further into her hands as she shook her head.

"You've seen every single one of us what?" a new voice questioned. Y/N sat up almost instantly, her head turning around so quickly she could've gotten whiplash. Her eyes locked on Bill who was already staring back at her from where he stood beside Mike, a small look of surprise and relief on his face at seeing her sitting there.

Y/N didn't know why she had the sudden urge to cross the room and fall into the man's arms, but she did and somehow she was able to keep herself in her seat. Bill's eyes flashed with an unreadable expression as he stared at her, but then he seemed to remember what he had been saying and blinked before looking back down at Beverly.

"To the place where Stanley wound up. That's how we end," Beverly said, her eyes flickering over to Y/N who immediately avoided eye contact and stared down at her hands. A hand was placed on top of her own and Y/N glanced to her side where Greyson was giving her a soft reassuring smile as he squeezed her hand. Y/N squeezed his hand back, her heart warming at just how amazing her son was.

"Okay, how come the rest of us aren't seeing that shit? What—what makes her so different?" Richie asked.

"The dead lights," Y/N muttered, her whole body feeling as if it had suddenly been dunked under cold water. She distantly saw Beverly floating in the air, her eyes glazed over as she floated above them trapped in some sort of prison that Pennywise was able to conjure.

Everyone's eyes flickered over to her and Y/N sighed before taking her free hand and running it through her hair while the other one held on tightly to her son. "It's the only thing that makes sense. No one else's got trapped in the dead lights, only Bev," she explained.

"She was the only one of us that got caught in the dead lights that day," Bill muttered as the memory came back to him and the others.

The man shook his head and crossed the room to sit in the seat beside Y/N, plopping down in disbelief while Greyson watched his mother gently reach out and place a hand on Bill's shoulder. Bill's hand flew up instantly, settling on top of her own and holding onto it tightly before the two exchanged a small look.

"We were all touched by it. Changed. Deep down like an infection or a virus. A virus! You understand! Slowly—" Mike tried to say as he reached out for Eddie, but the man quickly slid past him and began pacing around the room. "That virus, it's been growing for twenty seven years. This whole time metastasizing. It just got to Stan first because—"

"He's the weakest," Richie said and before anyone could even blink, Y/N had slammed her hand on the counter in order to push her up off her seat. She was in front of Richie in a matter of seconds, her finger pointed at his chest while a look of pure fury dawned her face.

Tears pooled in her eyes as she darkly said, "Stanley was not weak. He. . .he was brave and kind and. . .and—" Y/N had to pause in order to stop the sob that had begun to cross her lips. "And a better man than you will ever be!"

Richie's face softened as he looked down at his friend and for a moment it was like he saw the same thirteen year old that had been his best friend all of those years ago, the same girl who rarely left her cousin's side and loved him with all of her heart. Fuck, he was an asshole, wasn't he?

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I didn't mean to hurt you," Richie whispered as he carefully reached out and wrapped his arms around the girl, pulling her closer to his body for a hug. She fell against him with no fighting, her body limp against his own while her hands balled into fists on his jacket.

A soft sob escaped her lips and she weakly shook the man as she said again, "Stanley's not weak. He's not. . .he's not weak."

Richie just held her tighter, his eyes flickering up to the others who were all glaring at him. He gave them all an apologetic smile and most of them shook their heads and looked away, but Bill and Greyson continued to glare at Richie from where they sat next to each other at the counter.

"What Beverly sees, it will come to pass," Mike said after a moment of silence where Y/N finally managed to calm herself down enough to look back at the others while Richie continued to hold her comfortingly which no one bothered pointing out. He had always had a soft spot for the girl since they were younger and now was no exception, especially considering the fact that he had been the one to make her upset. "It's what'll happen to all of us eventually unless we stop it."

"How the hell are we supposed to do that?" Eddie questioned, glancing over at Y/N to see if she was alright and smiling softly as he watched her pull away from Richie and return the soft smile that Richie was giving her as he brushed her hair out of her face and whispered another apology.

"The ritual of Chüd," Mike told them.

Y/N scrunched up her nose, wiping at her eyes to get rid of the last of her tears as she pushed her emotions aside and tried to be the brave girl she had been twenty seven years ago when she first fought the clown. "The ritual of what now?" she questioned, her and Richie sharing a look of disgust and confusion.

"Chüd," Mike said again. "The Shokapiwah, the first ones who fought it, they have a saying. All living things must abide by the laws of the shape they inhabit."

"Tribal ritual? Are you fucking kidding me, man?" Richie questioned while Y/N just shook her head and walked over to the line of alcohol bottles on the wall. She was quick to grab a bottle and pour herself a shot before downing it in a matter of seconds. She could feel eyes on her and glanced over at her son who had an eyebrow raised. Sighing, Y/N poured herself one last shot and set the bottle down before walking over to the counter and leaning opposite of Greyson.

"There's gotta be another way," Y/N insisted, downing her last shot and setting the glass down while Bill sneaked a worried look in her direction.

"Y/N's right. This thing comes back what? Every twenty seven years? Let's kick the can down the road and do it then," Richie suggested.

"We'll be seventy years old, asshole," Eddie pointed out.

Y/N winced. "Yeah, I'd like to think I'll be up and kicking at seventy, but I'll have one foot in the grave before I can even think about fighting some fucking clown at that age," she muttered.

"It doesn't work that way," Beverly assured her. "None of us make it another twenty years, not even Greyson, and the way it happens—"

Beverly trailed off again and Y/N glanced at Greyson before clenching her jaw. "You trailing off every time you're about to say something horrible does not make this any less terrifying," Y/N said, her eyes locking on Bill who had his concerned gaze on Greyson as if he couldn't imagine the kid dying a horrible death this early in his life because of Pennywise.

"So if we don't beat It this cycle then we die," Ben concluded.

"Horrible," Eddie added.

"Yeah, I don't need the horrible part," Richie assured the man.

"I didn't say it, she said it. Not me," Eddie muttered.

"Wow, such great options we have. Either give up and die, lose and die, or somehow pull a win out of asses and actually get to live the rest of our lives. I'm loving this whole reunion thing so far," Y/N grumbled, earning a small glare from Greyson as the boy silently told her to play nice.

"Alright guys, look," Bill said as he pushed himself up off his seat, patting Greyson's shoulder once before glancing around at his friends. "I've seen w-w-what he's talking about and it's. . .it's all true." Bill's eyes stopped on Y/N and she lightly shook her head at him, but he only gave her a small look as he whispered, "It's the only way."

Y/N bit her lip at that, staring silently at Bill as she tried to decide if she actually had to do this. But then she was reminded of Stanley and how she wanted to make him proud. She was reminded of Greyson who had a future she needed to protect. She was reminded of the Losers', her friends who she made a pact with long ago at the age of thirteen to return and defeat this clown once and for all.

And then there was Bill. Bill Denbrough, the boy who she hadn't remembered until Mike spoke to her over the phone but the boy who she knew had meant so much to her back in the day. This was the boy who had willingly offered to sacrifice himself to Pennywise in order for them to escape and the same boy who had comforted her after her parents' divorce.

There is no way I'm leaving you behind. And there is absolutely no fucking way I'm going to be able to live a happy life without you in it.

You make me happy, Bill Denbrough.

"Fuck," Y/N whispered as she ran a hand through her hair in frustration. She let out a sigh of exasperation and looked at Bill a moment longer, the man giving her a shy smile for he knew she was breaking. She was quick to look away and instead turned her attention to Mike. "If you want this ritual to work—" she trailed off, ignoring the small sighs coming from Eddie and Richie as they both hung their head because they knew if Y/N stayed that meant they would be staying as well.

"We have to remember," Mike told her, his words making the group hesitate while Greyson began to smile excitedly.

"Remember what?"

- - -

"No fucking way," Y/N breathed out as her eyes flickered around the scenery that surrounded her. "The Barrens." Subconsciously, Y/N glanced over to her side, a small smile on her face as she expected a certain curly haired boy to be standing with her.

She was met with nothing but empty space.

Her smile instantly vanished as she was once again reminded that her cousin was gone, but she didn't have long to think about it before a hand gently grabbed ahold of her shoulder and gave it a soft squeeze. Y/N turned, relaxing a bit at the sight of Bill standing there but also feeling her stomach erupt with butterflies almost instantly.

She momentarily saw Greyson glance back at her and Bill from where he stood beside Richie and Eddie who were also looking back. The three all gave her different looks, Greyson smiling with a thumbs up while Richie smirked and Eddie gave her a knowing look. Y/N quickly ignored them and instead looked back at Bill who was watching her expectantly.

Realizing she had missed his question, Bill chuckled before saying, "I asked how you are doing."

"Oh, uh. . .fine. Fine. Fine," she said, wincing slightly at her own words while Bill raised an eyebrow at her. Y/N let out a soft sigh, "We can talk about this later, okay? Right now is really not the time."

"Right, of course," Bill nodded, letting his hand fall back down to his side. "I just. . .I'm here, okay? You're not alone in this."

Y/N hesitated at that, her eyes flickering up to lock with Bill's before she smiled her first genuine smile since the news of Stan's death. Bill almost swooned at the sight and he swore his heart leapt out of his chest for a moment when Y/N brushed her hand against his before grabbing onto it and intertwining their fingers together.

"I know," she whispered, chuckling softly at the sight of Bill's red cheeks while he gripped onto her hand just as tight.

"This is where we came," Ben spoke up, his voice snapping the two out of their trance. They glanced over at Ben before looking around at the part of the forest they were in which looked really familiar. "After the rock fight."

"Ah, the rock fight," Y/N sighed. "Henry Bowers didn't know what hit him. You remember us telling him off, Rich?"

"How could I forget? That was the day I learned you had such a potty mouth, sweetheart," Richie teased, glancing back at the girl and tossing a wink in her direction.

"You're telling me Mom didn't come out of the womb telling everyone off?" Greyson asked, quickly holding his hands up in surrender when Y/N playfully glared in his direction.

Richie suddenly let out a small gasp, his eyes widening as he said, "The Clubhouse."

"Holy shit," Y/N laughed, squeezing Bill's hand as she glanced at the man. "We use to sneak out here all the time." Richie immediately wiggled his eyebrows at the two and Y/N frowned before letting go of Bill's hand in order to walk over to her friend and whack the back of his head. "Not in that way, dumbass. I started coming out here by myself when everything going on with my parents just became too much and Bill often joined me."

"Did you and Bill have a thing?" Greyson suddenly questioned, trying to hide his smug grin behind a curious expression that Y/N saw right through.

However, she wasn't able to handle the situation very well because the suddenness of the question made her face instantly turn bright red and Bill wasn't much better.

"Oh, they totally had the hots for each other," Richie assured the kid. "In fact, they even—"

"Okay! That's enough!" Y/N exclaimed. "We're getting off subject. We were talking about the Clubhouse, remember? Ben, you built that for us if I am remembering correctly, didn't you?"

"Yeah, the hatch has got to be around here someplace," Eddie agreed, sending a small look in Y/N's direction before grabbing ahold of Greyson's shoulder and beginning to push him forwards. "Come on, Grey. You're gonna want to see this."

The two walked off in search of the hatch along with the others leaving Bill and Y/N to awkwardly stand there before the woman abruptly turned around. "I'm sorry about Greyson. He doesn't exactly know when it's appropriate to ask personal questions like that," Y/N said.

Bill just smiled and stuffed his hands in his pockets before saying, "No, it's fine. He's a curious boy is all. Just like his mother."

"At least he's not walking into sewers looking for missing children," Y/N joked, her words making both of them halt. The woman blinked and furrowed her eyebrows. "I'm sorry. That kind of just slipped out. I. . .I don't even—"

"Remember that much?" Bill finished, an understanding look crossing his face. "Me too. Although, I do remember some things." His eyes flickered over her face for a moment as if he were trying to find some hidden answer. "What. . .what do you r-r-remember?"

"Just some of the basics like spending the summer with Stanley because of my parents. Meeting everyone and that fucking house It resides in. And I remember some of the fighting, but not that much other than that," Y/N explained.

"Any—anything else?" Bill asked, his eyes still scanning her face and making Y/N's cheeks heat up a bit.

Was there something she was forgetting? She only remembered what she had told Bill and then the fact that she had a huge crush on him back then and that it seemed like he had liked her too.

"No," Y/N hesitantly said, a sinking feeling growing in her stomach once she saw the smile wipe off Bill's face. "Is there something you remember that I don't?"

Bill lowered his gaze to the floor and quickly shook his head. "No, no. Nothing important anyways. Don't worry about it," he assured her, although the tone of his voice told Y/N a different story.

"Bill—" Y/N began, but she was cut off by Ben's voice suddenly calling out to them. Bill was quick to brush past her as he walked over to the others, an action that made Y/N frown and stare after him.

So she was definitely not remembering something, but what?

"You know, I actually think the door was more like around—" Ben started to say, but he fell short when the ground beneath him suddenly gave way and he fell tumbling into what was below.

Y/N's hand flew over her mouth in an attempt to stop her laughter and the others had to stifle their laughter as well while Greyson walked over to the edge of the hole and looked down with a cheeky grin. "You okay there, buddy?" Greyson asked, earning a small groan in response.

"Found it," Ben's muffled voice could be heard calling out. "I'm okay! Come down!"

Everyone hesitantly stared at the hole while Greyson glanced at his mother as if to ask her what their next move was. For a moment, Y/N was met with a memory that she hadn't thought of in quite some time. A small smile appeared on her face as she walked over to the hole, glancing back at the others and giving them a mock salute that made some of them blink in surprise at the familiarity of the scene. In fact, it was like they could see a thirteen year old version of Y/N doing the exact same thing.

Y/N stared down at the hole before letting out a shaky breath. "Welcome back to the Clubhouse, Y/N," she whispered. And with that, she began to make her descent back into the clubhouse of her past.

- - -

1989

"What do you think it is?" Y/N questioned as she rested her head against her hand and looked up at the sky. "A new jump off spot at the Quarry? Some secret passage that will take us to Narnia?"

"Y/N, I don't think it's any of those things," Stan chuckled, glancing over at his cousin as a wide smile appeared on his face.

"Why not? Ben said he had something to show us. It could literally be anything in the world!" Y/N exclaimed happily, throwing her hands up in the air for exaggeration and making Richie groan.

"I hope it's a back brace because I'm going to need it if you keep moving around like that," Richie grumbled below Y/N who he was currently carrying on his back through the woods.

"And whose fault is that?" Y/N inquired, a smirk on her face as she glanced down at the boy. Richie frowned and Y/N chuckled before reaching out and pushing his glasses back up his nose which in turn received a thankful glance from the boy.

"You were the one who bet Y/N couldn't do a round off back handspring followed by four flips in the air before hitting the water at the Quarry," Eddie pointed out, earning a small glare from Richie.

"How was I supposed to know she did gymnastics for seven fucking years? She didn't disclose that information to me. This isn't fair," Richie complained.

"Quit complaining, Rich," Mike laughed, pushing a tree branch out of the way in order for Richie to walk under it successfully without Y/N being hit. "It could be worse. She could've made you do literally anything else, but all she's doing is making you give her a piggyback ride."

"Yeah, through the fucking forest," Richie grumbled. "I really think you just love to torture me, sweetheart."

"It's my job," Y/N replied with a smug look on her face.

"I can't!" Richie exclaimed suddenly placing the girl on the ground and putting his arms up in the air in order to stretch. "I think my back is about to spaz out or something."

"Rich—" Y/N began, a bit of concern flashing through her eyes as she looked at the boy.

"It's fine, Richie. I'll carry her for you so that you don't have to worry about it anymore," Bill spoke up, his words making Y/N's eyes widen as she quickly spun around to look at the boy.

He stood there with his hands in his pocket, a shy grin on his face as he let his eyes flicker over to her. "As long as that is okay, of course," Bill whispered.

"Thank you!" Richie exclaimed before beginning to shove Y/N over to the boy. "I know I practically carry the whole group with my dazzling personality, but I didn't think I'd literally have to carry one of you. Please, just take her."

If Y/N had wanted to protest, she had no chance for Richie had shoved her forward one last time and she was suddenly face to face with Bill. Her mouth hung open a bit, her face beginning to heat up while her heart beat rapidly in her chest.

"You sure you're okay with this?" Y/N questioned, hesitantly watching Bill who just gave her a warm smile and nodded his head before turning around in order for her to climb onto his back.

Y/N let out a shaky breath and placed her hands on Bill's shoulders before jumping up, the boy catching her legs while she desperately wrapped her arms around his neck and dug her face into the crook of his neck in order not to fall off. Once she was sure she was okay, Y/N peeled her eyes open and let out a small sigh of relief as Bill began to walk once again, this time with her gently holding onto him for a piggyback ride.

Y/N glanced over in Richie's direction to check and see how he was doing before her eyes widened at the sight of him smirking at her. It didn't take much for her to realize Richie had planned this, had been hoping this is how it would play out. She sent a small glare in his direction and didn't even think twice in leaning her head against Bill's while the boy tried to hide his growing blush.

The group walked for a while longer, some of them mumbling their own conversations to one another while Bill and Y/N remained silent and enjoyed the small walk.

"Now that we finally managed to get Richie to stop complaining, I've got to say I'm just as curious as Y/N," Beverly spoke up, glancing between her friends before stopping on Ben. "What is it, Ben?"

"Sorry to disappoint, but it's nothing like what Y/N suggested. However, I think it might be a bit better," Ben said, a small smile growing on his face as he suddenly stopped in a small clearing in the center of the woods.

The group came to a stop and Y/N sat up a bit and leaned an arm against Bill's shoulder which she used to prop up her head. "What are we looking at here, Hanscom?" Y/N questioned.

"Oh, right," Ben said as he snapped out of his daze and hurried over to a small spot in the ground. Y/N couldn't quite understand what he was doing and Bill glanced back at her, the two both sharing a look before realizing how close their faces were and quickly looking away.

Before they knew what was happening, Ben had grabbed ahold of something and pulled it up to reveal some sort of hatch with a hole in the ground. Y/N furrowed her eyebrows in confusion as she watched Ben glance at them before he began to climb into the hole.

"Uhh, whatcha doin' there, Ben?" Stan questioned, walking over to Bill and Y/N in order to help the girl get down.

"Come down!" Ben called out. Everyone left above shared a look before hesitantly staring at the hole. Finally, Y/N let out a small laugh of excitement and broke everyone out of their trance as she skipped over to the hole. She gave them a mock salute before beginning to climb down, the others shaking their heads at her in amusement before following after.

Y/N made it only halfway down the ladder before she managed to piece together what she was walking into. A look of shock appeared on her face as her feet managed to touch the ground. She stepped away from the ladder allowing the others to get down as well while she tried to take in her surroundings which looked to be some sort of clubhouse under ground.

"What the dick is this?" Richie asked as he jumped off the last part of the ladder and onto his feet. He adjusted his glasses and began to walk around while Y/N shook her head at the boy. "How'd you build it?"

"When did you build it?" Bill questioned, scaring Y/N as she realized the boy was standing right beside her. She couldn't stop herself from jumping in surprise and Bill quickly looked at her, a startled and guilty look on his face while Y/N nervously laughed and looked away with red cheeks.

"Here and there, I guess," Ben said with a small shrug as if it were no big deal.

"Ben, this is so cool!" Y/N exclaimed as she hurried over to the boy and gave him a big hug. "It's like our own little Narnia."

"Minus the creepy witch trying to kill us and the talking animals and—" Richie began to list off, but one glare from Y/N had him putting his hands up in surrender.

"It was already dug out from something," Ben said while Y/N let him go. "So I just had to reinforce the walls and get some wood for the uhh. . .for the roof door and that's pretty much it. Pretty good for my first time, huh?" He leaned a hand against one of the wood beams and a piece of the ceiling suddenly broke off and fell to the ground.

Y/N had to jump out of the way and she stumbled into Stan who was quick to catch his cousin and help her stand up right. She sent him a grateful look and wiped the dust off of her shirt before linking her arm with Stan like always.

"Now that's a cool feature," Richie mused. "What happens when you put your hand on the other pillar, Professor?"

"Okay, you see, this is exactly why there are safety codes, why we have permits!" Eddie exclaimed, slapping his hand on top of the palm of his other one for emphasis. "This place is a death trap, you understand that?"

"Right. Well, it's a work in progress, okay, Eddie?" Ben said, his shoulders slumping a bit.

Y/N frowned and gave Stan's arm a small squeeze before moving over to Eddie. "Come on, Eds," she said as she gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "Calm down a bit, okay? We're fine. Ben was just trying to do something nice for us and he did all of this by himself. Be a kid for a minute and realize how fucking cool this is."

Eddie glanced at the girl and despite his frown, managed to relax a bit before giving her a small smile. Y/N grinned and wrapped an arm around Eddie's shoulders in order to give him a side hug while the boy weakly tried to push her away while hiding his smile.

"Just know if I get hurt, you are liable," Eddie said as he pointed at Ben. "Also, what is this?" He pulled away from Y/N in order to whack a small metal box. "The switch of the Iron Maiden?"

"That's. . .that's a flashlight," Ben replied.

"And what is that? A horse hitch?" Eddie questioned while Y/N put a hand to her forehead and lightly shook her head. She loved Eddie, but he could be a bit high strung at times. "When do you have horses down—oh, this is cool."

He got distracted from his ranting and picked up a paddle ball. "That was like three dollars so be careful with that please," Ben muttered.

"I have one of these," Eddie said before beginning to play with the object. He bounced the ball as far away as he could and looked to Stan with a smile. "Hey, Stan. You see this?"

"Yeah, okay. Can. . .maybe. . .you not?" Stan asked as he flinched back, the others all watching the two in slight amusement and annoyance.

"Maybe not what?" Eddie questioned as he bounced the ball faster. "Yeah, yeah. Hold on. Maybe I'll not what? Maybe I'll not what? Be awesome and have fun and celebrate the magic of the power of the paddle ball?"

Y/N raised her eyebrows in amusement and was just about to tell Eddie to cut it out when he dropped the paddle to the ground, the ball falling off of the string and rolling across the ground and between some wooden skates in the ground.

Everyone was silent before Y/N let out a loud laugh that had Eddie glaring at her while she stumbled over to them and leaned against Stan for support. "That was on you!" Y/N exclaimed while Eddie pouted.

"Uhh, no. It was Stanley. Good going, fucknut. You broke his thing," Eddie said causing Stan to blink his eyes in surprise band before looking at his friend.

"I broke it?" Stan questioned.

"Yeah, you broke it with your face. Y/N saw," Eddie said as he pointed at the girl who held up her hands in surrender.

"I saw nothing," Y/N insisted earning a smug look from Eddie and a look from Stan that practically screamed 'seriously?'

"I'm not putting my fucking hand down there," Eddie insisted before him and Stan began to argue.

Y/N watched the two in amusement before leaning her arm against Stan's shoulder and turning to look at the others. "Oh, this is going to be fun," she said, a grin appearing on her face while the others began to smile.

Her and the Losers would end up spending half of their summer in there and Y/N would be the one to give the place a name one evening when the group was all joking around and eating the candy Y/N had managed to sneak out of the house with Stan. And that very name would stick for years to come.

The Clubhouse.

* * *

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skinks · 5 years ago

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I had a REALLY intense beatles phase in my late teens and i had the hots for paul mccartney and one time i found this story where this woman said she met paul at a party in 65 and he took her home and they talked until the sun came up and then he got a call telling him to come to the studio and he started to say he had to leave and she was like "not before you fuck me" and he laughed and then he DID and he left her alone in his house after and she stole his underwear (1/2)

(which she kept for decades until her husband threw them into their muddy front yard one day in a fit of jealousy) and a teapot and it always made me absolutely FERAL with jealous horny rage and like?? just this incredulous feeling of How On Earth Did That Really Happen and anyway bill hader’s dumpster mattress one night stand story is my new version of that (2/2)

The fucking journey this just took me on, holy shit. Did she at least get to keep the teapot?

I love that you had an intense teenage horny phase for a Beatle, I had one for Bob Dylan and I remember watching one of his electric era tour documentaries and being HORRIBLY jealous of the 60s girls hanging around outside his hotel... anyway that’s besides the point

I UNDERSTAND!!!!! THE MATTRESS STORY HAUNTS ME.... Bhader knows what he’s doing, he can try to couch it in as much self-deprecating oh-I’m-just-an-awkward-nerd fronting as he likes but he KNOWS what he’s doing and that woman knew it too. You ever notice how it’s the most competent ones who don’t feel the need to loudly prove themselves by being anything other than humble?? What did he SAY in that club! “It was going well,” he says, what does that MEAN, BILL, what did he fuckjfdkjcnnfkcning do that convinced this woman to leave the club, go to her place, lift a bed onto a car, go to HIS place and move furniture when she was literally moving to a new city the next day all so sHE COULD FUCK HIMMMM HOW IS HIS GAME THAT GOOD I FEEL LIKE A CHARACTER IN AN EDGAR ALLEN POE STORY BEING SLOWLY DRIVEN MAD BY THIS UNANSWERED MYSTERY

Ok sorry, I’m back. This is making me want to read a fic where (before they get together) Eddie watches an old interview of Richie telling the mattress story and he’s a seething ball of jealousy too. Then Richie comes out, he and Eddie sort their shit and get together, and one day Eddie laughingly comments that he had no reason to be jealous after all since Richie was obviously making the story up.

Richie looks at him weirdly. “I didn’t make up—that story did actually happen, Eds, I only changed it so people thought I went home with a chick.”

They are lying in bed. Eddie’s eye starts twitching. “Pardon?”

“Yeah?” Richie stretches, draping his right arm over his own head to scratch his left ear. Eddie will not be distracted by his chest right now, what the fuck. Richie squints at the ceiling. “I think his name was... Marco, or something. At least, that’s the name he gave to quote unquote Chris.”

“Marco, okay. Huh.”

“I wanted to be Lance or something cool, but my friend said I inhabited Chris better, I dunno. I didn’t even tell him why I needed a fake name, he was just like, big into method.”

“Yeah, mhmm.” Eddie sits up, nodding. He can’t stop nodding. His head feels like a champagne cork fizzing at the top of his spine. “So you, you uh—you were such a fucking player in your plaid and your baggy jeans that, that, that were the only things you even owned back then, Rich—don’t try to deny, it I’ve seen the pictures—that you convinced some guy who was moving town the next fucking day—”

Richie’s eyebrows shoot upwards. It makes his eyes look rounder, more delighted. “Convinced? Eddie—”

Eddie can’t stop, twisting the sheets in his hands til his knuckles go white. “Yes, convinced, you convinced him to go pick up some dirty mattress right off the street with a complete stranger even though you always make such a big deal about how awkward and nervous and repressed you were, you still, you still—”

“I was probably on molly or something at the time, man.” Richie’s beaming up at him. He pokes Eddie in the arm. Eddie feels how tense the muscle is, and fights to relax. “I’m kidding, at worst it was just a little tipsy driving. A little Wacky Races. Just call me Dick Bastardly.” Richie grins at his own dumbass joke, poking Eddie some more. “And it wasn’t just the mattress by the way, it was the whole bed. That’s a key detail. Headboard and everything.”

“The headboard?!” Eddie tries not to yell, but it comes out louder than he means to anyway. More of a shriek, embarrassingly. He lurches around in place to glare at their own flat bar of wood behind them. He holds onto that thing! It supports him, even when Richie’s fucking him into the wall!

Betrayal is neverending today, apparently. Eddie turns his glare onto Richie, who is laughing. “Stop laughing!”

“Your face,” Richie gasps. He covers his own face, then changes tack and yanks Eddie down over him to cackle into his flaming-hot throat. “What’s the problem! You’re acting like this is the same fucking bed, oh my god, you think I haven’t at least changed my mattress since I lived like a—like a Beavis and Butthead parody in Westwood, fifteen years ago?”

Eddie squirms miserably. Not even Richie’s broad nakedness against his can salvage this, he’s well and truly destroyed their sweet afterglow with his stupid overreaction. Feels like being fifteen again, ruining clubhouse hangouts with his snappy sulking as soon as Richie mentioned some girl at school. “No! No, obviously fucking not, just. I dunno.”

He doesn’t really deserve the gentle tease in Richie’s voice. “What don’t you know?”

“I don’t know!”

And that’s the part he hates most.

“Okay, okay. I think I do. Jesus, you’re actually jealous,” Richie breathes. He bites his lip, the way he does when he’s so happy about something he’s making a real effort not to talk over it. He’s still a little sweaty and pink from their Friday night activities, bedraggled hair and no glasses. The expression always scrunches his left eye into a full squint, something Eddie finds so helplessly appealing he can’t imagine what it’s like to watch that interview and not feel jealous.

Eddie grunts, shrugs as best he can under Richie’s heavy hug. Fucking Marco.

Richie’s hand is firm on the back of his neck. There’s pressure from his thumb at one point of Eddie’s jaw, the soft part between ear and bone that has him gulping open for Richie’s low murmur, “Eddie baby, don’t be jealous.” Their mouths meet and Eddie sighs into the slick warmth of it, feeling grateful and abashed and idiotic all at once.

They separate with a little snick of spit. Richie lids his eyes open just a touch, looking drowsy with affection. Eddie lowers his forehead to Richie’s shoulder and speaks to his collarbone. “I just—I hate it when you act like people are just doing you a favor for, for liking your shit or fucking going home with you when clearly it was—you’re fucking hot, Rich, and, and sexy when you’re not trying to be, and you were hot back then too, but you still act like it was a miracle anyone wanted to even touch you when I—I always would’ve picked the stupid dirty bed up off the street too. For you. And I wouldn’t’ve moved town the day after. So.”

Richie doesn’t speak for a moment. There is a cloud above their shared, clean bed, implicit with shared memory of all the times they dirtied each other’s sheets with grass stains and grubby feet, chip crumbs and even tears, just once, just before Eddie really did move town and forgot all the things he cared about so much more than he ever cared about getting sick.

He would never leave again though, is his point. Richie always seems to know what he means before Eddie does. He tries to think it loud enough, brings his hand up blindly to Richie’s face and strokes back his hair, not because Richie is a mind reader, but because he knows what it means that Eddie has never wanted to touch someone else like this.

Eddie’s spine then, curving under Richie’s knuckles like brushing a shiver along a set of wind chimes. His hand lands on Eddie’s tailbone, an X marks the spot that still throbs with loosened heat and pleasure from his orgasm. Lying on your front is bad for your posture.

I’m not lying on my front, Eddie thinks, with a little of the vicious defiance he doles out to that cloying voice sometimes, the one that tries to ruin quiet moments with its fretting. I’m lying on Richie’s. He’s good for my posture. He’s gonna snap my spine back into place and this time I’ll let him touch me.

Richie presses their temples together, small-voiced. “I guess... I find most of the flattery shit hard to believe. I didn’t like myself or the stuff I was making, so I’d automatically assume they were lying, y’know? If I agree it implies I believe them, which makes me feel like some giant, arrogant dick—don’t say it.” He pats Eddie on the ass. “But, on the other hand, if I think I’m somehow important enough for people to lie to, that’s kind of an arrogant dick move too.”

Eddie pushes up to eyeball him. “Even with sex? That’s so fucking dumb.”

This second ass-pat is harder, more of a stinging smack. Richie’s guarded look coils into a grin again at Eddie’s bared-teeth hiss. “I never said it wasn’t.”

“Well, I mean, what do you think it meant that fucking Marco—” Richie snorts at the projectile venom burning acidic holes through Eddie’s voice, “—was clearly willing to catch fleas or goddamn tetanus just to fuck you? What about me? You think I’m pretending it’s good just to encourage your weird, unnecessary inferiority thing? ”

“No, you’re right,” Richie laughs. His snorts have bubbled into full-blown giggles now as he squints down at the mess between their stomachs. “That’s pretty hard evidence you’re providing there, Eds.”

Getting harder too, rubbed up against the soft crease of Richie’s hip. Eddie can feel the lingering red throb of heat on his ass, like closing his eyes and still catching the gold-coin flash of the sun branded on the inside of his eyelids. Richie digs his blunt nails into the stung tenderness of his skin and gently pulls Eddie’s asscheeks open. He feels Richie’s quickened breathing against his wet mouth, and wonders how to ask for another spank in a way that isn’t gonna make him want to enter witness protection afterwards.

“I can’t believe you were jealous, you’re the last guy in the world who needs to be jealous,” Richie moans. Eddie feels the vibration of it on his tongue, now sucking on the knot of Richie’s adam’s apple. “Wait, can you really get tetanus from abandoned street beds?”

“Ugh!” Eddie bites him there and pulls off slowly, sucking so the stubbled skin of Richie’s strong throat is released from his mouth’s suction with a wet pop. Richie’s hips flex against him. “I almost wish this was the same fucking bed just so I had something to throw out into the yard!”

“O-ooh, how telenovela of you, I like it.”

Oh Christ, Eddie has to put some kinda stop to this before Richie starts speaking Spanish. He needs to last. He needs to beat Marco. “I’ll throw you out with it,” he says, too breathy and honest for anywhere else but here. “Trashmouth. Sweetheart.”

Richie’s face is flushed, eyes dark and desperate. He grips at Eddie’s ribs so hard Eddie feels them bending. “Dumpster diver.”

Eddie rolls his hips down, plants his palms on either side of Richie, shoves them under the pillows. He braces his elbows hard into Richie’s shoulders and grinds their sweaty foreheads together, but whatever aggression there is within him is softened by his catapulting heartbeat, harmonising with his own laughter. With Richie’s, always.

“Nah, ‘fraid the only thing left to remember that half-night stand with Marco is, well.” Richie looks down between them again, eyes almost crossed. “It’s me. My dick, more specifically.”

Eddie can feel as much. Another wave of possessiveness froths through him, crackling in the pockets of his joints, feels like cartoon steam whistling out his ears. “It better not be half-standing because it remembers anything about fucking Marco,” he snarls.

Richie raises his hands in a down boy gesture. It shifts his arms and shoulders in the way that sometimes makes Eddie wish he were a door, just so Richie could ram him open, and so he pins Richie’s wrists to the bed instead.

“Please don’t throw my dick out into the yard, babe,” Richie says.

“Gonna give you something to remember this fucking bed by,” Eddie says, and slides down Richie’s body to do just that.

#ficlet #hhfhchfjjf SORRY #this is why it takes me so long to answer asks 😭#im like 🤔 i’d love to see a fic about x 🤔🤔🤔 and then there’s a harp timeskip sound effect and i wake up to stuff like this

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