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Come Join the Clown, Eds (Part 2) - Eddie Kaspbrak (IT 2017)

Prompts/Plot: 7 - “Oh, fuck. What’s that?” “It’s a shoe.” Anxious and equally neurotic Eddie Kaspbrak has a plan to ask Y/N on a date but a lost shoe, a colossal storm and a killer clown walk into a bar and cause nothing but trouble.

Warnings: Potential trigger - there’s a portion where Y/N is scared in a forest at night, please do not read if you do not feel comfortable doing so. Swearing (whoops?)

A/N: The flashback obsession isn’t ceasing any time soon so that time warp is acknowledged. Everything in italics is a thought. Kenduskeag is pronounced KEN-DUH-SKEEG

Words: 2452

Part 1: https://fans-of-fiction.tumblr.com/post/178381442365/come-join-the-clown-eds-part-1-eddie-kaspbrak

August 1989 - Y/N’s POV

You had been so focused on Eddie that the charcoal clouds hadn’t caught your attention. It wasn’t until he began doing his anxious, scanning-his-surroundings-for-danger-because-everything-is-lethal routine that you even thought to take in the world around you.

Eddie—despite the dirt and threat of tetanus—loved the Barrens much more than you did. The sense of freedom that washes over him in this brush-way is nearly tangible. It hadn’t always been that way, though. You could still remember a time where the Barrens felt like your second home; a place of comfort, of tranquility. The familiarity of the brush used to warm you from the inside out, but recently it had began to steal warmth, to remove light, to make you feel cold. So fucking cold. It had been months, but you still couldn’t shake the memories. You wouldn’t walk home with just one shoe, would you, Y/N?

You shook your head and looked up, hoping to find shelter in Eddie’s presence, but it had began to rain. As Eddie’s mother would say, ‘Rain gives you chills, chills lead to colds, colds to the flu and the flu to death. Do you want to die of the flu, Edward?’ You’ve always detested her obsessive thoughts and their effect on Eddie, who was scared. With no shelter in Eddie, you felt worried as well. The first drops of rain had already darkened the shoulders of his red shirt. You concluded quickly that it was time to leave.

“Eddie,” You began. “I think it’s-”

“Yeah,” He chuckled, though it was perfunctory. Half hearted. “We should probably go.”

You smiled, trying to assure him. You began to turn around, but there, over Eddie’s shoulder, floating in the Kenduskeag, was your shoe. You froze. Come on, Y/N. Take your shoe. Your mouth was dry as dust. Take it.

“Y/N?” Eddie’s voice was distant. “Y/N you look pale. Are you ok?” You wouldn’t walk home with just one shoe, would you, Y/N? “Are you ok, Y/N?”

For two months you had been suppressing the memories. For two months you had kept the floodgates closed as best you could. No more, screamed your sneaker. With a deafening roll of crumbling concrete, the floodgate cracked wide open and spewed blackness over your conscious. The memories came crashing down on you with a force so heavy—so deep—you found it impossible to breathe.

It’s the reason you and Eddie had met. It’s the reason you had been there to save him. It’s why you were there in the Barrens, caked in mud and coated in fear.

You had come back to look for your shoe. That very fucking shoe.

May 1989 - Y/N’s POV

You had been to the Barrens a dozen times before. Swinging your legs over the Kansas Street guardrail, pushing your way through the brush to the bank of the Kenduskeag, kicking off your white sneakers before slipping your feet into the river, it was familiar; almost routine.

The water was lukewarm. It ran over your toes, then ankles, then shins as you waded into the river. You stopped when it reached your knees. You liked coming to the Barrens for the typical reasons—the fresh air, the running water, the way the sun rays that cut through the canopy of elms danced in the water—but you also loved it for the sanctuary it provided. The barrens were a safe space. A place of comfort; of tranquility.

You breathed, closing your eyes. While wading in the water you often found yourself losing track of time, so you weren’t surprised to find the sun setting when your eyes fluttered open again. The cloudless blue of the sky had began to fade as the sun fell steadily towards the horizon, darkening the foliage and everything within. You heard your mother’s voice in your head, cautioning, the sun has set and you’re alone-

“Pick up your shoes and come back home.” You finished out loud, making your way back towards the bank. Scanning the shore for your shoes, you spotted one shoe and then stopped, unable to spot the other. You could only find one. You scanned and searched harder as your legs pushed through the water, but there was only one.

You felt a tightness in your chest. If it was the middle of the day and you had time to spare, you wouldn’t be worried about your missing shoe, but the sun had already retreated behind the trees.

You let out a deep, frustrated sigh and began to look around. You moved as quickly as possible, but after thirty two minutes you were forced to stop. The sun had set, and the moon provided little light. It was pitch black in the barrens. When the sun disappeared, so did your vision, along with any familiarity of your surroundings. The trees, the rocks, ferns in the brush; none of it provided any comfort because none of it felt familiar anymore.

Disappointed and anxious, you began to make your way to the hill, reluctantly accepting that you would have to walk the streets of Derry accompanied by only your left shoe. Without your right, you felt a cool breeze sweep over your foot, but you continued forward. Without warning, a twig snapped somewhere in the brush across the river. You turned around, worried. Your eyes began to adjust to the darkness. They swept behind you, over the bank beyond the river, and even into the sewer opening in its concrete stature, but there was nothing. You noted, however, how the sewer runoff pipe seemed to loom out at you. During the day it was merely concrete and moss, but now that the light had faded, it seemed to call to you, to draw you in.

“Y/N.”

You froze, staring at the pipe across the river. Your mouth was so dry it felt as if you had just eaten a bowl of saw dust. What are you doing? You criticized yourself silently. It’s just the wind Y/N just the-

“Y/N.”

You heard it again. Your heart rate spiked well into the triple digits. You felt your heart pound against your chest, rattling your ribcage. A cold sweat began to accumulate on your back. The wind, you repeated. Just the wind. Just the w-

“You wouldn’t walk home with just one shoe, would you, Y/N?”

You tried to scream but it hitched in your throat. Not the wind, you thought. Not your imagination. Somehow, the realization dawned on you, and it came with a weight you couldn’t handle. It felt as if you were breathing through syrup. You knew damn well that it wasn’t the wind and you didn’t have the energy, or the will, to fight the notion. This voice that seemed to float on the wind, out of the sewer and across the river, was real—droning, unrelenting, and real.

“It’s here.” It cooed coldly. A blackened pit opened in your gut, weighing you down. A tear fell from your eye. “Your shoe, Y/N. It’s here.” The voice continued. You stared into the pipe, eyes frozen in place, but found nothing. Your imagination tried to form a picture of whatever was beckoning to you from the darkness, though it never seemed to settle on anything. The voice kept changing. It wasn’t old or young, masculine or feminine, angry or melancholic. It was, however, painfully hoarse. It was as if whatever sat in that sewer—clutching your right shoe, no doubt—had been screaming for days on end.

“Come take it.” The shadows beckoned. “Come on Y/N, take your shoe.” The voice appeared to grow louder, only it wasn’t getting louder, it was changing, separating. It grew, spreading into a chorus of frantic, discordant voices, all fighting to lure you like a choir of greedy sirens.

All together they began to chant. “Take it. Take it.” Your heart crashed against your ribcage. You were scared to look down for fear that you would see it jabbing from your chest. Over the thumping that rang in your ears, you caught a sound, a set of sounds, coming from the darkness. Footsteps. Wet, sloppy footsteps. The smell of mildew and rotting flesh wafted out of the sewer like a cloud of rolling fog, choking you. You gagged, but sheer terror kept everything down. The sloshy footsteps grew louder, carrying whatever rot was hiding in that hole of concrete and runoff. “Take it.” Cooed one voice. “Your shoe, Y/N.” Beckoned another. “Take your sho-” “Take it, Y/N, take it.” “Take it!”

A car roared past up above, cutting off the voices and snapping you out of your daze. You made the mistake of looking up, of looking away from the concrete pipe. You turned back. The voices, the footsteps, the enticing chants; gone. In their place, floating on the Kenduskeag, was your shoe. It was white—too white—and the laces were done up in a neat, even bow. Every nerve in your body stood on end, but somewhere, deep in the back of your mind, you were tempted to reach out, to wade into the river and take your shoe.

That was before you looked up at the pipe, because in the darkness—its dirty, faded costume standing out like the moon behind a veil of clouds—was a clown. His eyes seemed to look through your flesh. He licked his lips as if he had smelled something savoury.

“Come on, Y/N.” He called. His voice resembled that of a stranger trying to lure a child away from their parent. “Take your shoe, Y/N.” He pulled the corners of his mouth upwards as if trying to smile. “Take it,” He cooed. “Take it, Y/N and you’ll float too.” You could taste vomit in the back of your throat. You took a step backwards. The clown frowned, disappointed. The taste of vomit grew stronger. You could no longer feel your heartbeat. “Don’t leave, Y/N.” It whined. “Not without your shoe! You wouldn’t walk home with just one shoe, would you, Y/N?” It cocked its head to the side and smiled again, much more naturally this time.

Peeking out at you from behind his red, drooly lips were rows and rows of sharp, hungry teeth.

Your last nerve snapped. You screamed, and without a second thought, turned and ran. Twigs and branches and bushes all tore at your arms, your face, and your clothes; dragging you back towards the river. Towards the clown. You screamed again with the little air you could muster and pushed harder, digging both your bare and your covered foot into the dirt. Tears were streaming down your face, clouding your vision and itching your cheeks. Your ears were ringing violently, but you made it to the guardrail.

With a final push you were up and over, sprawled on Kansas street. You were cut and bloody and bruised but you were out of the barrens, You forced your hands underneath you and kicked yourself up, and without looking back, you ran all the way home.

It took three weeks before you could walk past the barrens without shaking. Another week after that before you managed to go look for your shoe, finding only Bill and Eddie instead. Another month after that you were-

August 1989 - Y/N’s POV

Already knee deep in the Kenduskeag, unable to look away from the shoe. You wouldn’t be able to see the bottom of the river if you tried; only the reflection of the swirling, writhing storm above. You knew that Eddie was calling out to you—trying to beckon you back to the bank, but you couldn’t listen. Every last one of your instincts had been hijacked. Every last nerve in your body screamed, take your shoe. It lured you in like a moth to a flame.

Suddenly, you felt every hair on your arms stand up. The taste of copper rolled through your mouth, and before you could manage to do so much as blink, lightning struck an elm fifteen feet from the river. Your ears popped as every wet leaf in the barrens flashed like a swarm of bike reflectors.

As your eyes adjusted to the shadows under the storm clouds, your ears adjusted to silence. You could hear your heart pounding in your ears, but not much more. You looked around to find something, some sort of sound, to focus on. All semblance of wildlife from the barrens had vanished, the only sound you could tune into was the gentle trickle of the sewer runoff. That, and Edd-

You stopped yourself. A hole opened up in your chest, swallowing your lungs. You turned around once and found nothing. You turned around again, slower, scanning desperately. You realized that you were crying when you opened your mouth to scream and tasted tears. “Eddie?” You yelled. There was no response. “Eddie!” You tried to scream louder than before, but your voice broke, sending you into a fit of choked shouts, pleading Eddie to appear unharmed, but he remained hidden. Not hidden, Y/N, You wailed in your head. Gone.

Eddie was gone.

You kept blinking, desperately trying to force the tears out of your eyes so that you could see. Though you struggled, you continued to search. You threw yourself through the river, sweeping the banks with your feet—maybe Eddie was just swimming in the river. Maybe he couldn’t hear your frantic calls—but you couldn’t find anything. There was no sign of life. No sign of Eddie.

It felt like a lifetime before you stopped. The rain began to come down in violent sheets. The Kenduskeag had taken on too much water for you to continue. The current was already too strong and just kept picking up speed. You had to fight your way to the bank before it swept you away.

You stood in the mud, defeated. The wind ripped leaves off the brush and the raindrops stabbed at your face, but you didn’t stop looking for Eddie. The hair on your arms stood up again. Copper rolled through your mouth. A clap. A flash.

The bolt struck another tree down the river. You began to cry again. Harder this time. The feeling of defeat grew within you, spreading and eating and hijacking your reasoning. You felt defeated because you knew where you would find Eddie. You knew what you had to do.

Slowly, you raised your eyes to the sewer pipe.

You could hear the chorus chanting in your memories, luring you in. The voices had triumphed. You knew that you had to face it all; the sewer, the voices, the rot. Face it all, and face that fucking clown.

Part 3 Coming Soon !

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fans-of-fiction · 6 years

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Come Join the Clown, Eds (Part 1) - Eddie Kaspbrak (IT 2017)

Warnings: Swearing

A/N: The flashback obsession isn’t ceasing any time soon so that time warp is acknowledged. Mentions the fact that Mike has a Dad (really not sorry) cause I like to allude to the book where I can. Everything in italics is a thought. Kenduskeag is pronounced KEN-DUH-SKEEG

Words: 4326

August 1989 - Eddie’s POV

The American Elms of the Barrens were bending and swaying violently in the warm August wind.

“Come on, Eddie Spaghetti,” Richie mocked from his place on the bank of the Kenduskeag. “You’re just working yourself up.”

I scoffed at him, disappointed. “I’m not working anything up, Richie. I just-”

Beverly placed her arm around my shoulders, pulling me into her side. “You’re just nervous.” I looked up at her, defeated. She smiled back at me. “We’ve all felt like this, Eddie.” She assured. Like an idiot? I thought. “Richie’s right. You’re just working yourself up.”

I scoffed again, pulling away from Bev. “But I-”

Stanley stepped into the discussion, promptly cutting me off. “Look, Eddie.” He began. “We’ve been through every possible scenario. If you stutter, you know what to do. If she faints, you know what to do. If a bird shits on your shoulder and you puke on her, you know what to do.”

Richie doubled over and cackled hard. “That one’s my favourite!” He roared “Can we do that one again?”

“Buh-b-beep beep, R-Richie.” Bill defended. The trashmouth fixed his glasses and resorted to snickering through his teeth. I was still terrified, and the six of them could see it, especially Bill. “Stan’s r-right.” He continued. “Wuh-we’ve been through e-everything. N-nuh-nothing can go wrong.”

I shook my head. “Plenty of things can go wrong, Bill.” My heart felt like a roaring steam engine and the more I thought about Y/N the closer it came to crashing off the tracks. “Murphy’s Law, Bill. Something always goes sideways.” I looked down at my shoes. My mother’s voice droned on in my head. Be careful, Eddie. She cooed coldly. You know how much bacteria builds up in that water, Eddie. I took a subconscious step away from the river and looked up. “How do I even begin to ask her out?”

Stan let out a heavy sigh, Richie pretended to die of boredom, and the rest of the Losers shared wary looks before Ben spoke up. “How did you feel the first time you saw her?” Everyone turned to Haystack Hanscom, who was trying his best not to look at Beverly. The flurry of confused looks from the Losers cued him to explain. “When you talk to Y/N,” He spoke quickly, nervous that if Beverly looked at him for too long she would come to loathe his pudgy physique. “Just tell her how she made you feel the first time you saw her.”

Everyone agreed, nodding their heads and mumbling mmhmm. It was easy enough to remember that day. It was June. I was scared. She saved my life. It had always been that simple, but the more I thought about it the more the minute details came back. How the sun hit her jeans, how the wind caught her hair, how she made me question everything my mother had ever drilled into my head and how much I loved her for it.

June 1989 - Eddie’s POV

“Bill, you don’t want to go in there.” I grimaced. Bill, standing at the opening to one of the Derry Sewage runoff pipes, was more than happy to wander into the cesspool of bacteria. Bacteria leads to staph infections, Eddie, and what do infections lead to? “Death” I whispered out loud.

Bill cocked his head back towards me. “It’s just water, Eds. It can’t be that bad.”

I shook my head at him. “Grey water. Greywater.” He furrowed his eyebrows, confused. I scoffed. “All the piss of Derry has to collect somewhere right? Well, welcome to the circus, Bill.” I’m not sure what I was expecting from him. If I were standing in a river of bacteria I would scream, vomit and faint, probably simultaneously. Bill, however, was fearless. He simply scrunched his nose, hiked-up his jeans, and began to venture deeper, and he would have followed those shitty tunnels to China to find Georgie, if it weren’t for the roar from the Belch Huggins’ TransAm. Even from Kansas St—the dirt road that surfaced well above the Barrens—it was deafening, but it didn’t compare to the low, gut-wrenching growl of Henry’s voice.

Belch had stopped the car next to the guard rails, allowing Henry to lean out of the passenger window. “You’re lucky we don’t come down there and make you drink that piss water, fuckers!” He barked. Henry had managed to push himself so far out that I nearly laughed, picturing him falling out and eating shit as he tumbled down the steep hill. The only reason I didn’t have a chuckle was that Henry looked furious and—despite that being his default mood—if he chose to push himself out that grimy window, we really would be drinking piss water.

Bill quickly made his way out of the sewer, but tripped over a half-hidden root and tumbled into a puddle of thick mud, sending Henry and his gang into a howling fit of laughter. Victor flashed the bird and Henry pulled himself back in before Belch tore up dirt, flying down Kansas Street. Bill pushed himself up, letting out a sigh of disappointment as he surveyed his mud-caked outfit. I took a step towards him but a squeeze in my chest reminded me of my debilitating condition.

I know the signs. I’ve had so many attacks that they’ve become second nature, like an itch. Unlike when I was seven, I no longer have to react, I just scratch. I raised my aspirator up to my lips and pulled the trigger, awaiting the acidic pang and rush of fresh air, but there was nothing. I tried again, squeezing harder. Nothing.

Panic hit me like Belch’s TransAm. The itch was unscratchable. The empty aspirator rolled from my hand, making a small sploosh in the Kenduskeag before the current carried it away. My knees buckled as I doubled over, crashing to the mucky ground of the Barrens, choking. I tried to shift my weight and sit down, but at that point my limbs were nothing more than fleshy sandbags, weighing me down and wasting my fleeting breath. I felt Bill’s arm on my back, rubbing frantically as if he was trying to wash my asthma off. I’ve already tried that, Bill. I thought. It’s no use.

His voice sounded muffled and distant, way beyond the point of recognition, or more importantly, understanding. I forced my eyes open so that I could look around and make sure I wasn’t sitting at the bottom of the river, though my vision was so blurred with tears and my lungs were so desperate for oxygen that I don’t think it would make a difference if I was. Bill stepped in front of me and grabbed under my arms, softly yet urgently, helping me sit against a rock. I threw my head back, opening my airway as much as possible. Warm, June air rushed into my lungs, but my bronchi had closed to the size of pins so it wasn’t getting far. I squeezed my eyes together, forcing tears out. This must be how Richie feels, I thought. Poor kid needs fucking coke bottles to read his cereal boxes.

I looked up at Bill, who had knelt down so that his face was only a foot away from mine. He was trying to mouth something, but between the tears and his stutter I couldn’t figure out what he was saying, though I managed to make out the words “help” and “Keene’s”. Shit. I yelped in my head. Bill was going to Mr.Keene’s for another inhaler. Please, I begged silently. Fuck, Bill. Please don’t go. The thought of being alone in my state only made me hyper-aware of the growing pressure in my lungs. Please don’t leave me alone, Bill.

A twig snapped behind me and Bill’s head shot up. I looked over my shoulder, trying to ignore the thumps from my racing heart, and promised that if I saw Henry and his Gang standing behind me I’d drop dead without a second thought. Though it wasn’t Henry, or Belch, or Victor or Patrick. It was a girl, and she was beautiful. Her eyes kept darting in between Bill and I. Her eyebrows were furrowed in confusion.

“What’s up with him?” She asked. Her concerned expression didn’t match her nonchalant posture. Her hands were stuffed in the back pockets of her jeans, which were coated at the bottom in Barrens mud. I noticed how clear her voice sounded, compared to the bleak murmur of Bill’s.

“A-a-Asthma attack.” He managed. My ears, which had been useless a mere minute ago, finally seemed to hear, Thank God, and Bill sounded scared. “I have to get him another aspirator but I don’t want to leave him alone.”

There was a sudden gust of wind. It flowed through the girl’s hair, pushing it over her eyes. She raised her hands, dragging them through her hair and tying it all back in a sloppy bun, revealing her face. “I’ll stay with him.” Though I still struggled to breathe, the tears no longer clouded my vision. I stared at Bill, waiting for his reaction. He began to speak but she cut him off. “Don’t worry,” She assured, offering half a smile. “I’ll keep him company. You better go get that inhaler.”

Bill looked at me regretfully but forced a smile in an effort to convince me that everything was going to be ok. Noted and appreciated, I thought. “Hhhhhhh.” I wheezed. Now go get my fucking inhaler, please. “Ghhhhh Hhhhh” I wheezed again.

Bill smiled for real this time and pushed himself up, uselessly wiping his hands on his mud-caked jeans. He took several quick steps down the bank. “I’ll be b-buh-back.” He looked at the girl and nodded his head in thanks before taking off in a sprint down the bank. He turned sharply, cutting up the hill towards Kansas street where Silver was tied to the guardrail.

As his footsteps faded, the girl stepped around me and took a seat on a rock. “Can you tell me your name?” She asked. I wheezed, cursing whatever God fucked me over with this pretty girl by giving me the World’s Shittiest LungsTM. “Know sign language?” I shook my head, causing her to chuckle. “Yeah, me neither.” She began taking her shoes off, which were covered in a thick coat of dark brown, half-dried mud. Next came her socks, which were just as dirty. She shuffled closer to the river, slipping her feet in. The wind picked up again, rippling through her shirt and tugging at the loose hairs that weren’t collected in her bun.

She looked at me and smiled softly. “How are those lungs doing?” My mind shifted back to my breathing. There was less strain on my chest now. Less stabbing pressure when I inhaled. The shock was gone, instead giving way to curiosity—as well as appreciation—for this beautiful yet mysterious stranger. I managed to shrug my shoulders. “Good,” She chuckled. “Nearly dead is still better than dead.” Her motto took me aback to the point where I found I was looking at her in a whole different light. I began to notice the small, wild details that I had otherwise ignored. The wisps of hair she didn’t bother to tuck in her bun, her mismatched, muddy socks, her unpredictable mannerisms. This girl embodied a sense of freedom that—with my mother looming over my shoulder—I’ve never known.

She stood up, rolled her jeans halfway up her shins, and stepped into the river. “I really shouldn’t be taking my shoes off.” She remarked, and as if she could feel my confusion, she began to explain why. “The reason I’m here is that I lost a shoe.” Her voice took on a tone of fear that was not only sudden, but—given her other careless nature—completely out of place. I looked up at her with uncertainty. “It was about a month ago,” She continued. “I can’t even remember why I was here.” She trailed off, looking down at her feet. Bluish-greyish water from the Kenduskeag flowed past her calves, lapping at her skin. She looked back up at me, smiling now. “Guess it’s a good thing I came down today, huh?”

I could feel myself smiling for the first time in forever. I was so encapsulated in trying to figure her out that I had forgotten that I couldn’t breathe. She continued on, and suddenly I saw what she was doing. While scanning the riverbed, she had distracted me with her anecdote. Calming me down. Allowing me to breathe.

“Yeah,” She endured. “I don’t remember much from that day. But I remember being scared.” She turned to face me, slipping her hands back into her jean pockets. “You’re scared, aren’t you?” I closed my eyes in embarrassment, but there was something about this girl that I could trust, so I nodded my head. “Can’t blame you.” She encouraged sullenly, before switching her tone and chirping out, “I’m just glad I was here.”

I continued to watch her as she scanned the river bed. She swept her feet along the muddy bank in small arks as she told me stories. Sometimes she would thrust her hands in the water, though she only ever pulled up rocks and mud. Her final plunge, soaking her arms well past her elbows, brought up a dead fish. We both gagged. She tossed the fish back in the river, shook her wet arms, and wadded over to my side of the Kenduskeag.

She wiped her hands on her jeans and sat down beside me. “How’s the breathing?” She checked.

I smiled, easily. She took in my calm demeanor and smiled back at me. It was a proud smile. You should be proud, I thought. Before today, nothing but my aspirator could calm me. It was my only lifeline, until she came along.

I realized suddenly that something was missing. I glanced at her neck, hoping to find a necklace that would give me the answer, but there was nothing. I had to use my Shit LungsTM.

“What’s your name?”

Her eyes widened slightly, surprised to hear me talk, and then she chuckled. “Yeah, I guess we never exchanged names, did we?” I laughed with her and shook my head. “In my defense,” She continued. “You were dying.”

We laughed with each other, hard.

“It wasn’t that bad.” I managed in between cackles.

“‘Wasn’t that bad’ my ass!” She howled back. “I was scared for you!” Tears brimmed her eyes as she bent over and laughed, clutching her stomach.

Suddenly, Bill threw himself through the bushes fourteen feet down the river. He was trying to yell as he ran over, but between his stutter and the state of his lungs—which, ironically, seemed worse off than mine—we couldn’t understand a word.

He skidded to a halt beside the bank, his sneakers leaving trenches in the mud behind him. He bent over to breathe and with his hands on his knees, he raised his head to stare at me. The longer he looked, the more confused he got.

He drew in a long, painful breath and spoke in airy breaks. “I gu-“ Wheeze. “got your-“ Wheeze. “muh-“ Wheeze. “hedication.”

He pulled a full aspirator out of his back pocket and tossed it in my direction, though his aim was off by a foot or two. Instead, the girl caught it at waist level. She walked over, popped the cap off and handed it to me. “Here,” She smiled. “One for luck.”

I put the inhaler in my mouth, squeezed the trigger, and pulled a breath in. The metallic pang was comforting in its familiarity, though this time it seemed different. This time, the salbutamol sulfate didn’t provide the same sort of sanctuary—of comfort. The girl standing in front of me did that perfectly well enough. She was looking at her hands, inspecting her fingernails and the dirt that resided under them. I wondered what she was thinking. She looked up at me and smiled.

I could feel the blood rush to my cheeks in a wave of heat as I looked into her eyes. I felt as if I had climbed to the top of a mountain and could now sit and bask in the expanse of the view; the blues and greens and yellows sprawling outwards forever.

She turned towards Bill and spoke with relief. “Now that Wheezy over here has his meds,” She turned to me, grinning. “Wanna grab some ice cream?”

I became aware of the sweat on my back. I pinched my t-shirt, pulling it off my skin, and stood up. For a moment, the world went black as the blood in my head rushed to my feet. I almost fell over.

The girl was at my side instantly. One of her hands held mine, the other laid across the sticky t-shirt on my back. “You alright?” She asked.

I told myself to nod my head. The girl chuckled and let go of my hand, pulling herself away. I figured it was the wind, but a lack of heat—of heat and comfort—grew as she pulled away.

I dove my hand into my back pocket and pulled out three dollars. “If we get ice cream,” I managed. “At least let me pay for yours.”

She chuckled and nodded simultaneously. “I’d be honoured.”

Another wave of heat; more blood rushing to my face. I pictured the way the wind would catch her hair as we walked up Kansas towards Costello’s and- oh shit, I interrupted myself as images of a blue TransAm flashed through my head. I spoke out, “What if we see Bowers?”

Bill’s face became grey. I could tell he was imagining what Bower’s and his gang would do to us if they caught us on a backstreet. Three kids, alone. He looked up towards the road where Silver had churned up gravel less than ten minutes ago. You never assume the gang’ll be trouble when you’re speeding down the street at Mach 4 on your bike, but at walking speed there were a million opportunities to be antagonized. I began to picture opportunities one through seventeen when the girl let out a startling cackle.

Bill and I stared as she laughed. “Fuck Bowers” She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not worried about him.” Bill and I exchanged nervous looks, but she continued. “He’s a paper kid, a phony. If you stand your ground, a light breeze’ll make the poor thing crumble.”

Her audacity took us both by surprise. She and her thoughts were so genuine that her mentality seemed tangible, as if one could hold it in their hands. I felt myself staring at her. My eyes darted around her figure, trying to find physical proof that she was real. This mysterious girl—the one who had so promptly stayed with a stranger in order to save his feeble life, who held more courage in her entire body than I in my left hand, who was unafraid of Henry Bowers and the danger his gang possesses—could not be real.

She moved. For a second I felt a sense of relief—as if my eyes had finally proved that she was angelic; above a physical form—until she took another solid step down the bank. “Come on, you two.” She began. “I think it’s best to get you to Costello’s.” She turned her back and continued to walk. Bill and I followed promptly, though it wasn’t until we reached the market that I finally learned her name. The name.

August 1989 - Eddie’s POV

“Y/N,” I began “will see right through this bullshit plan.”

The Losers scoffed collectively. “Eddie,” Beverly pleaded. “We’ve planned this for days. There’s no way this won’t work. There’s no-” The crackling of bike tires on gravel sounded from above. We all looked up in anticipation, and there, smiling from behind the guardrail, was Y/N.

“Hey!” She yelled down. “It’s been two days. I almost forgot what you dorks looked like!”

All eight of us let out a laugh, under which Ben whispered, “Ok. We all know the plan. Play your roles for Eddie’s sake.” The Loser’s gave a quick nod before dispersing throughout the small stretch of Kenduskeag bank, doing our best imitation of ‘nonchalant’. Ben and Stan made their way up the hill towards the road.

We all knew what they were going to say, even before Y/N asked where they were going. “Ben found an amazing book on the indigenous birds of central Maine.” Stan cooed.

“We need to pick it up before anyone else does,” Ben concluded before they turned and continued up the hill.

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows in confusion but continued to make her way down to the bank. Beverly gave her a welcoming hug before conveniently looking at her watch. “Oh no,” She faked. “It’s three o’clock.” She looked up at Mike and Richie. “We better go help your dad before he comes looking for us.”

Mike nodded harshly. “You’re right.” He turned to Y/N and managed a reassuring smile. “Those cobs won’t husk themselves.”

Richie turned to Y/N, who became more confused—to the point of frustration—and apologized. “Sorry that we have to leave so early, Y/N.” He lamented. You could tell from the tension in his neck that he was trying to hold back his classic Tozier grin. “Mike, Bev, and I agreed to help Mike’s dad with the corn and if we’re late we’ll only get paid two cents per cob.” Mike and Beverly nodded mechanically. “And besides,” Richie continued. “Who wants to-”

Beverly grabbed his arm. “Come on, Tozier.” She demanded. “You can stay and chat or you can get paid.” Richie turned one corner of his mouth up in defeat and made his way up the hill. Y/N’s head followed the three as they trudged upwards.

Once their figures had been shrouded by the brush above, Y/N turned around to face Bill and I. “So,” She chirped optimistically. “Guess it’s just the three of us.”

Bill glanced at me, but fix his seemingly regretful eyes on Y/N. “Just the tuh-two of y-yuh-you, actually.” Bill held up his black-banded watch. “Spuh-heech therapy in an hour.”

I expected Y/N to shrug her shoulders and let Bill go, but instead, she furrowed her eyebrows; unconvinced. A knot conjured itself in my stomach. “I thought you had speech therapy Tuesday nights.” Y/N questioned. She then looked at me, waiting for confirmation of the obvious.

The knot twisted itself into a tight wad of anxiety. My jaw locked, forcing me to shrug my shoulders and look to Bill for guidance as I so often found myself doing. Bill could lie much easier than I could, even with the stutter. “Wuh-we can’t m-muh-make it this Tuesday,” He fibbed. “Huh-had to r-ruh-reschedule.”

Y/N loosened her expression, shrugged her shoulders, and let him go with a breathy “If you say so, Bill,” who spared no time making his way up to Kansas street. Have fun at Costello’s, I bleated in my head. The market was the meeting spot. The Losers would be collecting there soon, to share ice cream and How-Will-Eddie-Fuck-This-Up theories, no doubt.

“You know, Eddie,” Y/N chuckled. “You’re all terrible liars.” The knotted wad of anxiety in my gut exploded in a mess of fiery terror. I could still hear Bill’s feet shuffling over the loose gravel above. Ok, Bill, I screamed internally. Time to come back now.

“Where are they meeting?” She interrogated.

It felt as if my brain had been disconnected from my body, rendering all functions useless. “Costello’s.” I blurted.

Y/N chuckled under her breath. “If you wanted to spend some time with me,” We made eye contact. My heart exploded. “You could’ve just asked.” I was completely frozen. I took on the facade of a mouse playing dead, hoping and praying that she would get bored and leave, allowing me to slip away and read my comics under the safety of my covers.

Y/N bent down and picked up a smooth, grey rock. It was half the size of her palm. She dusted it off briskly, then turned her hip towards the Kenduskeag. Like an expert, she bent her knees, cocked her elbow back, and launched the rock over the surface of the water. I counted four skips.

The plain astonishment that filled my chest seemed to bring the feeling back to my limbs. My eyes scanned the bank around my feet for a rock like Y/N’s, but could only manage to find one that was much less flat. Rather than facing Y/N and her captivating yet quizzitive eyes, I bent over and picked up the rock. I did my best imitation of her stance and whipped the rock towards the water. It hit—and sank—with a single sploosh.

Y/N let out a whole-hearted cackle. Surprisingly, I joined in and laughed freely at my own defeat. The anxiety in my gut had diffused into a weightless thought in the back of my head until I looked up. A new worry tugged at the back of my head as I stared up at the darkened mass of Derry sky. The greys churned and writhed like a vicious blanket of black and white undertow. My eyes swept from the sky to the brush of the barrens. The wind had begun to pull and rip at the elms, bending them at angles that made me nauseous. The grey wash from the clouds had turned the water of the Kenduskeag inkpot black.

I turned to Y/N, whose face had adopted a tone of concern. She was mimicking my actions; looking around, taking in the red flags. The storm was just beginning—it hadn’t even begun to rain—but the onset of omens had been so sudden, we knew the worst of it was coming fast. It was going to swallow Derry whole.

I posted this ages ago ad only now realized that something failed in the posting process so here we are.

Part 2: https://fans-of-fiction.tumblr.com/post/178871324310/come-join-the-clown-eds-part-2-eddie-kaspbrak

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Come Join the Clown, Eds (Part 1) - Eddie Kaspbrak (IT 2017)

Prompts/Plot: 7 - “Oh, fuck. What’s that?” “It’s a shoe.”

Warnings: Potential trigger - there’s a portion where Y/N is scared in a forest at night, please do not read if you do not feel comfortable doing so. Swearing, Severe Injury/Near Death, emotional roller coaster so watch out for that idk

Words: 6778

August 1989 - Eddie’s POV

The American Elms of the Barrens were bending and swaying violently in the warm August wind.

“Come on, Eddie Spaghetti,” Richie mocked from his place on the bank of the Kenduskeag. “You’re just working yourself up.”

I scoffed at him, disappointed. “I’m not working anything up, Richie. I just-”

I scoffed again, pulling away from Bev. “But I-”

Richie doubled over and cackled hard. “That one’s my favourite!” He roared “Can we do that one again?”

June 1989 - Eddie’s POV

Bill cocked his head back towards me. “It’s just water, Eds. It can’t be that bad.”

She wiped her hands on her jeans and sat down beside me. “How’s the breathing?” She checked.

I realized suddenly that something was missing. I glanced at her neck, hoping to find a necklace that would give me the answer, but there was nothing. I had to use my Shit LungsTM.

“What’s your name?”

We laughed with each other, hard.

“It wasn’t that bad.” I managed in between cackles.

“‘Wasn’t that bad’ my ass!” She howled back. “I was scared for you!” Tears brimmed her eyes as she bent over and laughed, clutching her stomach.

He drew in a long, painful breath and spoke in airy breaks. “I gu-“ Wheeze. “got your-“ Wheeze. “muh-“ Wheeze. “hedication.”

She turned towards Bill and spoke with relief. “Now that Wheezy over here has his meds,” She turned to me, grinning. “Wanna grab some ice cream?”

I became aware of the sweat on my back. I pinched my t-shirt, pulling it off my skin, and stood up. For a moment, the world went black as the blood in my head rushed to my feet. I almost fell over.

The girl was at my side instantly. One of her hands held mine, the other laid across the sticky t-shirt on my back. “You alright?” She asked.

I told myself to nod my head. The girl chuckled and let go of my hand, pulling herself away. I figured it was the wind, but a lack of heat—of heat and comfort—grew as she pulled away.

I dove my hand into my back pocket and pulled out three dollars. “If we get ice cream,” I managed. “At least let me pay for yours.”

She chuckled and nodded simultaneously. “I’d be honoured.”

August 1989 - Eddie’s POV

“Y/N,” I began “will see right through this bullshit plan.”

“Hey!” She yelled down. “It’s been two days. I almost forgot what you dorks looked like!”

We all knew what they were going to say, even before Y/N asked where they were going. “Ben found an amazing book on the indigenous birds of central Maine.” Stan cooed.

“We need to pick it up before anyone else does,” Ben concluded before they turned and continued up the hill.

Mike nodded harshly. “You’re right.” He turned to Y/N and managed a reassuring smile. “Those cobs won’t husk themselves.”

Once their figures had been shrouded by the brush above, Y/N turned around to face Bill and I. “So,” She chirped optimistically. “Guess it’s just the three of us.”

Bill glanced at me, but fix his seemingly regretful eyes on Y/N. “Just the tuh-two of y-yuh-you, actually.” Bill held up his black-banded watch. “Spuh-heech therapy in an hour.”

It felt as if my brain had been disconnected from my body, rendering all functions useless. “Costello’s.” I blurted.

August 1989 - Y/N’s POV

Eddie—despite the dirt and threat of tetanus—loved the Barrens much more than you did. The sense of freedom that washes over him in this brush-way is nearly tangible. It hadn’t always been that way, though. You could still remember a time where the Barrens felt like your second home; a place of comfort, of tranquility. The familiarity of the brush used to warm you from the inside out, but recently it had began to steal warmth, to remove happiness, to make you feel cold. So fucking cold. It had been months, but you still couldn’t shake the memories. You wouldn’t walk home with just one shoe, would you, Y/N?

“Eddie,” You began. “I think it’s-”

“Yeah,” He chuckled, though it was perfunctory. Half-hearted. “We should probably go.”

“Y/N?” Eddie’s voice was distant. “Y/N you look pale. Are you ok?” You wouldn’t walk home with just one shoe, would you, Y/N? “Are you ok, Y/N?”

It’s the reason you and Eddie had met. It’s the reason you had been there to save him. It’s why you were there in the Barrens, caked in mud and coated in fear.

You had come back to look for your shoe. That very fucking shoe.

May 1989 - Y/N’s POV

The water was lukewarm. It ran over your toes, then ankles then shins as you waded into the river. You stopped when it reached your knees. You liked coming to the Barrens for the typical reasons—the fresh air, the running water, the way the sun rays that cut through the canopy of elms danced in the water—but you also loved it for the sanctuary it provided. The barrens were a safe space. A place of comfort; of tranquility.

You felt a tightness in your chest. If it was the middle of the day and you had time to spare, you wouldn’t be worried about your missing shoe, but the sun had already retreated behind the trees.

You let out a deep, frustrated sigh and began to look around. You moved as quickly as possible, but after thirty-two minutes you were forced to stop. The sun had set, and the moon provided little light. It was pitch black in the barrens. When the sun disappeared, so did your vision, along with any familiarity with your surroundings. The trees, the rocks, ferns in the brush; none of it provided any comfort because none of it felt familiar anymore.

“Y/N.”

You froze, staring at the pipe across the river. Your mouth was so dry it felt as if you had just eaten a bowl of sawdust. What are you doing? You criticized yourself silently. It’s just the wind Y/N just the-

“Y/N.”

You heard it again. Your pulse rate spiked well into the triple digits. You felt your heart pound against your chest, rattling your ribcage. A cold sweat began to accumulate on your back. The wind, you repeated. Just the wind. Just the w-

“You wouldn’t walk home with just one shoe, would you, Y/N?”

“Come on, Y/N.” He called. His voice resembled that of a stranger trying to lure a child away from their parent. “Take your shoe, Y/N.” He pulled the corners of his mouth upwards as if trying to smile. “Take it,” He cooed. “Take it, Y/N and you’ll float too.” You could taste vomit in the back of your throat. You took a step backward. The clown frowned, disappointed. The taste of vomit grew stronger. You could no longer feel your heartbeat. “Don’t leave, Y/N.” It whined. “Not without your shoe! You wouldn’t walk home with just one shoe, would you, Y/N?” It cocked its head to the side and smiled again, much more naturally this time.

Peeking out at you from behind his red, drooly lips were rows and rows of sharp, hungry teeth.

With a final push, you were up and over, sprawled on Kansas street. You were cut and bloody and bruised but you were out of the barrens, You forced your hands underneath you and kicked yourself up, and without looking back, you ran all the way home.

August 1989 - Y/N’s POV

Eddie was gone.

You stood in the mud, defeated. The wind ripped leaves off the brush and the rain cut at your face, but you didn’t stop looking for Eddie. The hair on your arms stood up again. Copper rolled through your mouth. A clap. A flash.

The bolt struck another tree down the river. You began to cry again. Harder this time. The feeling of defeat had begun to grow within you, spreading and eating and hijacking your reasoning. You felt defeated because you knew where you would find Eddie. You knew what you had to do.

Slowly, you raised your eyes to the sewer pipe.

You could hear the chorus chanting in your memories, luring you in. The voices had triumphed. You knew that you had to face it all; the sewer, the voices, the rot... and that motherfucking clown.

Part 2 Coming Soon !! This imagine (my longest one yet, even as part one of a two-parter) is actually my 100th post. So. wow.

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Holy Fuck:

This account is two years old? I can still remember writing my first shitty imagine like it was yesterday. Bless every single one of you and wow never give up on your dreams cause who knows... maybe you too will run a mediocre Tumblr imagine account❤️❤️❤️

#expect something soon

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MASTERLIST - December 10th, 2017

-|| IT ||-

Bill Denbrough:

F-fuh-Fuck Off, B-Bowers

Richie Tozier:

Tozier, Meet Right Hand

Stanley Uris:

Birds Don’t Float, They Fly

Eddie Kaspbrak:

Come Join the Clown, Eds Part 1

-|| Guardians of the Galaxy ||-

Peter Quill / Starlord:

Monitored

-|| X-Men ||-

Peter Maximoff:

Stop All The Clocks

-|| Teen Wolf ||-

Scott McCall:

It Can’t Be Him Up There

You Have No Idea

Stiles Stilinski:

Got a Dollar?

I Think I Can Help

The Boy In The Blue Jeep

Theo Raeken:

Calm of The Storm (PART 1) (PART 2)

Liam Dunbar:

Quarantine

What Do You Mean It’s Still On? (PART 1) (PART 2)

Is She Still Mad?

Isaac Lahey:

I’ve Missed This

Rainy Days and Warm Kisses

Brett Talbot:

Neighbours (PART 1) (PART 2)

I’ve Been Waiting For This (PART 1) (PART 2)

Changeroom Chatter

-|| The 100 ||-

Bellamy Blake:

Moonshine

Adventure (PART 1) (PART 2)

Separation

Language

Cutie On Campus -AU-

Rubble

Truth or Dare

John Murphy:

Ugly Anger (PART 1) (PART 2)

In My Head, You’re Mine

I Will Fight For You (PART 1) (PART 2) (PART 3)

Not In My Alphabet

Warmth

A Drop In The Ocean

A Challenge

Raven’s Party -AU-

Someone Else’s

Macallan:

Cell Mates (PART 1) (PART 2)

-|| The Flash ||-

Barry Allen:

Not Your Average Day At Work

Jealousy

-|| Miscellaneous ||-

Bellamy Blake - Blurb

John Murphy - Would Include - Another

Brett Talbot - Would Include

Mixed ‘The 100′ - Would Include

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Tozier, Meet Right Hand - Richie Tozier x Reader (IT)

I owe the anon that requested this an apology because this imagine is over a month late. I feel so guilty for not getting this out sooner but I’ve had a whole slew of mental and physical health problems over the past 4-6 weeks and my emotional PTSD has been weighing me the fuck down. I hope you know that your requests mean more to me than you will ever know. With so much love, E <3

Prompt/Plot: #3 - Anxiety/Panic Attack. Richie has a very hard time admitting his love for Y/N—especially when she seems so close to Bill—but after she shows up at his house in a snowstorm, and helps him after he has a panic attack in Neibolt, he’s ready to make an exception.

Warnings: Richie has a panic attack. Swearing and mentions of masturbation (it’s Richie. What canya do?)

A/N: Written in Richie’s POV. There’s a flashback to the snowstorm that’s acknowledged with time marks. Not a BillxReader though it may seem like so at first.

Words: 5659

July 1989

“Fuck,” I mumbled as Bill, Eddie, Y/N and I stepped into Neibolt. The stale and visibly dusty air wafted around us like smoke in a wind-tunnel. “Wonder how many lepers’ve died in here.”

“Sto-” Eddie gagged audibly. “Stop with the leper talk, Richie! It was,” A click-wheeze came from Eddie’s aspirator as he breathed in deeply. “It was one time!”

I chuckled and looked over at Y/N. She laughed as she knelt down to tie her shoelace with a happy tranquility that almost made me forget we were standing in the middle of a crack-head house. If it wasn’t for the creaking of the heavy, wooden door struggling shut behind us—locking us away from Beverly, Ben, Stan, and Mike—I could have easily thought that we were standing in the middle of the old, dark section of the library where they keep the original copies of Shakespeare, right next to Jesus’s passport.

Bill—our own fearless leader—turned and spoke once he found his bearings. “Guh-guys,” He croaked. We could all tell he was scared, but he stood his ground and hid it well. “I th-thuh-think we sh-ssh-shuh-” He couldn’t get it out.

Y/N stood beside him and slung one arm over his shoulder to calm him. Something bubbled in my stomach. “It’s alright, Bill.” She reassured, her voice soft. “Take your time.”

Bill smiled down at her and she smiled back. The bubbles churned. It was like someone was boiling a kettle in my guts. I looked at the word Freese’s on my shirt. What the fuck? I asked, almost out loud. You’ve had beef burritos before. Would you cool it?

“Th-thanks, Y/N.” Bill managed, ready to start again. “I th-think we shuh-should split up.” His stutter had nearly disappeared with Y/N at his side. Yeah, I chimed in my head. Let’s all split up, Bill. I’ll bet my allowance you and Y/N will find each other anyway. Something clicked in my head. I didn’t do it often, but I found myself stopping to think, and suddenly the feeling made sense. It wasn’t the burritos. It was seeing Y/N help Bill. It was watching Y/N hug Ben when he gave her his spare change for gum. It was hearing Y/N say, ‘I’d hop in Brian’s parachute pants.’ when we watched The Breakfast Club on VHS in Beverly’s apartment. It was because I don’t look like Brian from The Breakfast Club, or Bill, or Ben. Fuck, I thought. The realization crashing over me like a black, choking wave. Richie Tozier, you jealous shit. I could feel my cheeks going red and my pants growing hot. Fuck, I groaned. Fuck. No. Not here. Not in fucking Neibolt. Run your mouth, Tozier. Crack a joke. Spit a remark or something. Do a voice. Do a voice, Richie.

And like that I was Shaggy. “Like zoinks, Fred!” I carolled. “It’s like, get another catchphrase or something, huh-ha!”

Y/N chuckled—Success—but quickly shrugged it away so she wouldn’t make Bill feel bad, but Bill didn’t care. He was determined to find this made-up, whack-job clown. “Ruh-Richie and E-Eh-E-” He tried.

“We get it, Bill.” Click-wheeze. “ Richie and I can stay Can stay on the ground floor if,” He pointed a finger at Bill and Y/N. “You two wanna go upstairs.” The kettle clicked on again broiling harshly. It was so hot that I almost missed the joke opportunity. That’s my cue, I thought.

“Yeah,” I laughed, wrapping my arms around Eddie. “Oh, Bill!” I squeaked. “I’m so scared, Bill! Won’t you hold me?” I shuffled my arms dramatically up and down Eddie’s back and hair, making loud kissing noises. “Mwah mwah Mwah! Oh, Bill! Mwah mwah mwa-”

“Richie!” Eddie shouted and squirmed. “Richie my hair! Have you even washed your hands in the past twenty-four hours, Richie? Richie!” He pushed away, hands rushing up to his head to fix the mess. I doubled over, laughing so hard I could barely breathe. All the heat left my stomach. I managed to stand up and wipe my glasses off, but looking at Y/N I saw that her cheeks were red. Really red. She was embarrassed. Welp, I concluded. That’s it, Trashmouth. You threw away any shot you had. Tozier, meet Right Hand.

Bill put an arm around Y/N’s shoulder and they turned towards the rickety staircase. Wanna go for broke, Tozier? My thoughts were coughing at me. I know well enough that my mouth’s a badly cracked dam, and it’s impossible to stop the leaks. “Be safe you two!” I spurted as they walked away. “Use protection!”

There was a scoff from Eddie. I grinned a Trashmouth’s grin at him but turned back around to find Y/N looking at me. She was disappointed. I would have walked back to my house and locked myself away until I died if Eddie hadn’t scolded me once she and Bill were out of sight. “Are you serious, Richie?” He chided. “Would you just tell her you like her already?”

I turned to Eddie so that I could glare at him through my thick frames. “Gee, Eddie.” I quipped. “Let’s see, if you’re the only Loser I’ve confessed my love for Y/N to, and believe me, I regret that… well… I suppose two and two equal no. Fuck no. Never.” I adjusted my glasses, which were sliding down my hot face. “She’ll never know because she’ll never feel the same way.” I turned to walk away. Anywhere but there under Eddie’s decrypting gaze. “And that’s the story, Eds.”

I made my way to a small alcove—It looked like a living room. In the middle, a lone chair sat in a slew of tangled roots and dead vines, sprouting from the ceiling—but I didn’t make it far. “Richie,” Eddie called. His voice sounded different. Less frustrated and more confused.

It enticed me to look at him again. “What, Eddie?”

He stared at me, eyebrows furrowed. “Richie, you said ‘love.’”

When did I say Love? I thought. I tried to remember but I felt about as confused as Eddie looked. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Eddie suddenly smiled. His cheeks turning up to mock me. “You finally said it.” He chirped. “You wouldn’t admit it before, but you just did. You said ‘my love for Y/N’, Richie.”

A floodgate opened. I did say that. Richie Tozier is a bastard in love, Ladies and Gents. I could feel my cheeks catch fire, probably a vivid crimson, and as I mulled over Eddie’s words I could hear his voice, somewhere else, somewhere distant, somewhere on the other end of a telephone line.

Winter 1988

“Richie, could you tell Mrs.Douglas that I won’t be in class tomorrow?” Eddie said into the receiver.

I chuckled. “What’s the matter, Eds? Rather tickle your pickle while your mom’s at work than sit through math?”

Eddie when to sigh but his shitty lungs spat a wheeze instead. “No, you idiot.” Click-wheeze. “My mom’s taking me to the doctor.”

“Why,” I quipped. “Dick stuck in the VHS player again?” He scoffed, but I laughed.

“Richie! That’s gross!” He wailed. “I’m going to the optometrist, dip-shit. My mom wants to make sure I don’t need glasses.”

“Just where my extra pair,” I suggested.

It was Eddie’s turn to laugh. “I can see Jupiter in those fuckin things.”

We both giggled, but the moment was cut short by the doorbell. I listened closely to see if I could hear my mother’s footsteps, wondering if she was sober enough to be awake. Silence. “Hold on, Eds.” I sighed, knowing very well that she was unconscious. “Doorbell.”

Put the phone down, but didn’t hang it up, and ran down the stairs. The front hall carpet was cold, a sign that the snow storm blowing outside was as bad as the weather goons had predicted. Putting a hand on the cold, brass doorknob I noticed that I never knew who to expect when opening the door. It could’ve been a salesman, or a dinosaur, or God himself. Frankly, I would have expected anyone else before I expected her.

It was Y/N. I knew her face immediately because whenever she passed in the hallway it was all I could see, though Eddie was the only one who ever caught me staring. She looked cold. So cold that she was shaking, her hands clutched to her chest. Even with frostbite, she was stunning. So stunning that I forgot to crack a joke, or at least say Hey.

“Richie!” She exclaimed, her voice barely audible in the wailing wind. I noticed her teeth chattering in between words. Don’t be a pussy, Tozier. Let the pretty girl in.

I moved out of the way and put one hand on her shoulder, guiding her into the house. “Holy shit, Y/N,” I said, stunned. “What the hell are you doing outside in that storm.”

She chuckled. My concern wasn’t a joke, but even in the cold, her laugh was warm, like Saturday morning sunshine. “It wasn’t this bad before.” She assured. “It was nice enough to walk to Mr.Keene’s, but all of a sudden the wind picked up and the next thing I knew I was on your doorstep.”

I chuckled, feeling an odd sense of honour that she recognized my house and felt safe enough with me to seek shelter from a snowstorm with me. “You can stay here until it passes if you want.” I offered, hoping and praying that the storm would last forever. Now’s your chance to get to know her, Richie. I thought. Now’s your chance to impress the hell out of a pretty girl from the safety and comfort of your own home.

Y/N smiled gratefully. “Thank you, Richie.” She said. “I really appreciate it, especially because,” She paused. “Well, I guess we don’t know each other that well, do we?”

I thought about it for a second, but only because it took me aback. I felt weird to think that I’d known her for any less than forever. I shrugged my shoulders. “Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn.” I lulled casually in my best Clark Gable impression before turning towards my kitchen. She chuckled. I felt a sense of success I rarely felt with my parents. My Dad always working, my Mom always drinking. It made me feel good. Hopeful. Like I’d been working in a sulfur mine all my life and just caught my first breath of fresh air.

I was looking at her differently now. I didn’t just see a beautiful girl I’d love to parade around the school beside. I saw a beautiful girl who—despite being frozen—radiated warmth and light. I felt a sudden urge to sweep her up in my arms. Shut up, Trashmouth. My head spat. You’ll only ever be the kid who lived in a warm house when she got caught in a snowstorm. The thought hurt, and though I tried to push it out, it pushed back. You shouldn’t flatter yourself, Richie. The least you can do is help her enjoy her stay in your dark and lonely house before she forgets all about you. Now, go be a man. I took a deep breath. “You look freezing.” I acknowledged, motioning to her shaking hands.

She chuckled. “I guess so.” I could still hear her teeth chattering. At the bottom of the stairs sat the clean laundry my mom was going to take up before she popped the cork on what was probably her second bottle of wine that day. I grabbed a blanket and walked over to Y/N, pulling it around her shoulders.

“Here,” I mumbled bashfully. “You should probably warm yourself up.” Her face was so close to mine that I could smell her chapstick. Cherry. She smiled as we made eye contact and then reached up and fixed my glasses, which were sliding down my face. I chuckled. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Her smile grew. “Thanks for letting me stay for a little while.”

I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to calm the goosebumps. “No problem.”

We made our way into the kitchen. I flicked the kettle on. As I was searching through the cupboards for the box of hot chocolate mix, Y/N took a seat at the table. I could hear her pull the wooden chair out and sit down on its creaky seat. I looked for the hot chocolate a little harder, with hopes that I’d find it soon and could distract Y/N so she couldn’t notice how dusty and cold the house really was.

As if to confirm my worries that she was looking around, eyes scanning the walls and shelves to find some secret part of my backstory that she could crack, I heard her chair push back on the linoleum floor. I heard her step around the table to the wall with the family photos on it, her socked feet making only soft sweeping sounds. Please, I begged, practically tossing bowls and cups across the floor. Please don’t look at those. They’re not me. I’m not my family. I’m not my mother, the alcoholic, or my father, the worker who ignores his trashmouth son. I’m not them. They’re not me. They’re not-”

“So this is your family, huh?” Shit. Her voice was soft and polite. Enough so that I ignored her almost presumptuous question.

“Yeah,” I joked, ignoring the mess of kitchenware and the fact that I probably had no hot chocolate to begin with. I walked over and stood with my back to the photos, facing Y/N. I smiled an overdramatic grin. “Don’t we look alike?”

She chuckled, seeing clearly that my parents and I held little resemblance. “Are either of them home?” She asked, eyebrows furrowing. She was wondering why she hadn’t thought of asking earlier.

I debated lying to Y/N. Telling her that both my parents were in Venezuela on an expedition or something. But looking into her eyes I found something pure. Something whole that said ‘I won’t judge you, Richie. You can trust me.’ And so I trusted her, but not with the whole truth. “My dad’s at work,” I explained. “My mom’s having a nap in the den.” Quick thinking, Richie. If you were only that quick on your feet, maybe you’d have less trouble with Bowers. My stomach hurt just thinking of the mulleted asshole, so I focused on Y/N. I studied her face and found no signs of judgement, only curiosity and beauty.

“Oh,” she said. “Will she be mad if she sees a girl in the house?”

I thought about it for a second. The answer was yes. She would probably be appalled. She may even throw Y/N back out on the street before she could slip her boots on again, but she would definitely notice me. Maybe even see my cry for love and attention and give me some for once. But it would take something drastic. Something that I wasn’t willing to drag Y/N into. Something that I hadn’t even noticed was about to happen anyway, because I hadn’t heard the TV click off, or the scuffling of my mother’s slippers. I hadn’t noticed her standing in the doorway, already positioned—slightly off-kilter with the wine in her system—to rip both Y/N and I apart.

“Richard Tozier,” She tried to boom, but it only came out as a deep slurred mess. I could smell the alcohol on her breath from several feet away, and with Y/N standing unfortunately in between the two of us I knew that she could smell it too. She was probably already figuring out the basics of the Tozier household. Drunken mother, working father, under-acknowledged Richie Tozier. “Did you think you could sneak some tramp into the house without my knowing?” Her eyes were distant, glazed over, never quite finding what she was looking at.

Y/N turned to look at me. She wasn’t as offended as she was concerned. Thanks for blowing it, mom. I could tell she wasn’t quite sure what was going on, but she was smart enough to know that it wasn’t quite right.

My mother spoke again. “Turn the kettle off and get her out of here, Richard.” She babbled. “I want you to do your homework, not this-”

“I don’t have any homework, mom.” I corrected her. “I told you that when I got home.”

She squinted her eyes at me, her eyelashes curling against her eyelids. “Don’t lie to me, Richard,” She tried. “You said that you had a science project, remember?” She sounded so sure of herself that it sparked pity in my gut. Pity for both her and myself and Y/N for having to watch it all unfold.

“That was last week, mom,” I mumbled. “Last week was the science fair. I had to carry my project four miles to the school and back. Remember?” I could feel tears threatening to spill behind my eyes, but I refused to cry in front of Y/N so I held them back. Looking at her gave me enough strength to subdue the urge to let them fly, but it also made me aware of her new expression. Her eyebrows turned up ever-so-slightly. She understood what was happening fully now, and she pitied me. She pitied poor, ignored Richard Tozier, who only craved knowing that his parents gave half a shit about him. She was as witty and observant as I was. I wondered if she also felt like she was too smart for her own good, and as she saw me wonder I saw her scheme.

Her eyebrows relaxed, her eyes gained a sense of confidence they didn’t have before, and the corners of her mouth turned up in a grin. I had no idea what she was planning to do, but the thrill of it was almost enough to send me over the edge.

“No, no,” My mother mumbled defiantly. “No that was today, Richard. I remember it like my own name and I won’t have you lie to me. Now go do your homework!” She tried to raise her voice but only hiccuped instead.

Before she could turn away to return to the den, Y/N stepped back towards me, wrapping her arms around my waist, pulling me in. Suddenly she wasn’t herself. It gave me a strange sensation, like I was watching myself do a voice or host an impression. She became someone new.

“I’m sorry, Mrs.Tozier.” She cooed, one hand reaching up to pull off my glasses smoothly. “But I doubt that Richie’s gonna get to do any sort of work today.” My mother—though disoriented—was still coherent and fully noticed the handsy actions Y/N was putting out. Her face went red. “I’m afraid,” Y/N continued. “The only thing he’ll be doing today is-”

My mother had had enough. “Young lady!” She managed, though still slurring. “I’ll have you-” Hiccup. “Get your hands off my-” Another hiccup. “Off my son!”

Y/N laughed, and like that, I saw her plan in full light. It was brilliant. She was brilliant. “Oh, I can manage that,” She grinned. “The real problem is keeping Richie’s hands off of me.”

My mother yelped and tried to run out of the kitchen, but she could only manage a slumped set of lunges. “Oh, my!” She cried out. “I need another drink.” The thump thump thump of her crashing steps faded as she left Y/N and I standing together in the fluorescent-lit room.

I turned to Y/N, who was smiling so fiercely her cheeks strained to keep up. “That should get her to pay attention from now on, huh?” She laughed, but I stared in awe, hyper-aware that she hadn’t yet let go of my waist. I could feel her warmth radiating through my Hawaiian shirt. Suddenly the white lights didn’t feel so cold. The room didn’t feel so empty. My house no longer felt lonely. Y/N—with only her smile and her divine presence—filled the void of the house I’d been fighting to fix for years. My house was the sulfur mine, and Y/N was a million breaths of fresh air. I would’ve stood and stared until I died, if she hadn’t pulled away.

“Thanks for saving me from the cold, Richie.” She said, still grinning from ear to ear. “And I’m sorry if I just got you grounded, but I thought maybe-”

“I don’t care if she throws me out.” I interrupted, half aware that my mouth was moving. “That was the coolest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

Y/N smiled bashfully and looked at her feet. “It was my pleasure.” She assured. “But I should probably head out now. My parents will be worried if I’m not back soon.”

Her smile faded as I nodded. We made our way to my front door. She started to take the blanket off her shoulders, but I told her to keep it for the walk home. “Once again, Richie,” She smiled. “Thank you.” She leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek. I could feel my face go red. She noticed my crimson cheeks and giggled, before stepping out the door, and just like that, she had gone as softly and abruptly as she had come.

“Holy fuck,” I said out loud as soon as the door shut. “Wait ‘til I tell Eddie.” I stopped for a second. “Oh, fuck, Eddie!” I took the stairs two at a time, raced back up to my room, and threw the phone up to my cheek so fast I almost took off my glasses. “Eddie! Shit, man I’m sorry dude.”

Eddie scoffed on the other end of the line. “That was a long time, Richie. Who the fuck was at your door?” He paused. “And if you say something witty like ‘It was Y/N, the hottie that I’ve been eyeing for months. We boned for a while until our love sparked a fire hardy-har-har’ then I will walk to your house and slap you myself, Tozier.” I laughed. Long and hard enough to get Eddie very concerned and very curious. “What the hell are you laughing about, Richie.”

And though it took some convincing and a promise or two, I made it through the story of the past twenty-five minutes. “Jesus Christ, Richie,” Eddie mumbled. I could practically see the dumbfounded look on his face. “I knew you had a crush on her, but shit, the way you’re describing her… Richie Tozier is a bastard in love, isn’t he?”

I laughed, but in surprise rather than amusement. No matter how much I liked Y/N, no matter how much I wanted to scream from the fucking rooftops that I would happily marry her, I would never tell Eddie that I was in love. Not willingly. I would never admit that I loved her—out loud, especially to anyone else—until I knew she felt the same way. “I’m not in love, you idiot.” I spat. “She’s just hot, you know.”

“Oh suure, Richie.” Eddie retorted sarcastically. “You’re not in love and my mother wants me to roll around in the sewers as a hobby.”

I laughed back at him, but it felt forced. I couldn’t let him know. Not now. Not yet.

July 1989

“Okay, so what?” I asked. Throwing my hands up and turning towards the alcove again. “So what if I said it, it doesn’t matter because she can’t hear me and even if she could, she wouldn’t understand.”

“That’s bullshit.” Eddie fought back. Though I was facing away from him I could practically see the scrunched, ‘Would you get a load of this guy?’ look on his face. “You know damn well that she feels the same way about you, Richie. Why would she help you with your mother if she didn’t care? You know she only lives a block away from you, right?” In honesty, I didn’t know that. I would have turned around to look at Eddie and ask how he knew but a piece of paper caught in the dead foliage demanded my attention, though that didn’t stop Eddie from talking. “She could have made it through that storm easily, but no. She remembered where your house was that one time you had that garage sale, remember Richie? She knew where you lived and she took shelter with you because she fucking loves you too, dip-shit!”

His voice sounded distant. It was like this paper, this flyer, had sucked in all of my senses. I reached the roots and plunged a hand in, clutching the sheet and pulling it out to reveal a face I saw every day in the mirror. It was my school picture. I was smiling up at myself through my glasses, which were nearly covered under my hair. At the top of the page, in massive, attention-grabbing, black letters was the word Missing.

My head clouded over as the room began to spin. Eddie was talking but I couldn’t hear him. I could barely hear myself wheezing. Air. Shit. Where the fuck did the air go? Suddenly I found myself craving the old, dusty air of the Neibolt house. I was choking for anything and no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t assume control over my body. My heart was pounding so hard I could practically see it. Cold sweat was causing my glasses to slide down my nose, but with my aching hands grasping the paper I didn’t bother to fix them. My diaphragm tried to draw air in but it kept hitching in my throat.

“Richie?” Eddie called over, concerned. “Richie, you look really pale. Are you ok, dude?” I couldn’t answer. My tunnel vision was hyper-focused on the paper. I could feel myself beginning to black out. Eddie screamed something but fuck if I knew what it was. I was too busy shaking to figure it out. My knees were beginning to buckle underneath me and if it weren’t for the hands on either one of my arms, helping me sit down, I would have collapsed. Someone took the paper from my hands. I wished and I willed for my eyes to focus, and after a little while, they finally did. My eyes cleared to reveal Y/N. She had tossed the flyer off to the side and knelt beside me, her hands on either side of my face. She was staring into my eyes and though I couldn’t hear her, I figured she was pleading. Probably for me to calm down, or take a breath, or stay alive. Believe me, love, I thought. I’m trying.

But I couldn’t. I couldn’t stop struggling. I wondered if Y/N had read the flyer and figured out why I’m in my current state. She was certainly sharp enough to do so. As if to prove me right, her voice broke through. “Richie, you’re here with us. Look. Look at us, Richie! You’re not missing!” She hit the nail on the head, and much like when she saved me in my own house, she was saving me now. It was as if I’d been trying to listen to her through fifty feet of water, drowning in the sea, but she managed to swim to my depth and pull me up again. I could see and hear and breathe and for the first time in the past forever I felt calm, though my heart was racing. I raised a hand and pointed at the Missing poster. “B-Buh-But I-I-” Eddie thrust his aspirator at me. I took it graciously.

“You’re here, Richie. You’re right here.” She shuffled forward on her knees and pulled me gently into her chest. “I know that this scares you, but if you ever went missing, the Losers and I would never stop until we found you. Understand?” I murmured. Y/N pulled away for a second to look in my eyes. “You understand that, right, Richie? We would risk life and limb to get you back if that’s what it cost.”

I nodded, still trying to gain my composure. She smiled. “Wanna hear a joke?”

I mustered a half-smile. “You-” Wheeze. “Bet I do.”

She chuckled. “What’s the difference between a tire and 365 used condoms?”

I stared at her for a second—who would’ve guessed that Y/N had any dirty jokes in her arsenal—then shrugged my shoulders.

“One’s a Goodyear, the other’s a great year.”

I let out a howl of laughter, hunching half in between my knees. Oh, I noted. There are my lungs.

“Fuck panic attacks.”

I smiled. “Y-yeah.” I squeaked. “Fuck” Wheeze. “panic attacks.”

Y/N laughed with me and then spoke. “How about we get you out of here, huh?” I nodded again. Y/N stood up and turned to Bill. “Could you help Richie outside?”

Bill nodded excessively. “Uh-of course.” He knelt down, slung my left arm over his shoulder, and helped me stand up. Y/N helped Eddie crack open the front door. They walked out first and explained what had happened to Mike, Ben, Stan, and Beverly.

“T-thanks” Wheeze. “for helping me, Bill.” I managed. “I r-really” Wheeze. “appreciate it.”

Bill chuckled softly. “That’s f-fine, R-ruh-Rich. I-I know p-puh-panic at-tacks can be s-ss-scary. Yuh-you’re just l-luh-lucky that Eh-Eddie yelled up f-for Y/N.”

“Yeah,” I mumbled. “I’m sorry for joking about you and Y/N earlier, I didn’t mean to-”

He cut me off by laughing. “Th-that’s ok, R-Richie. Y/N was w-wuh-worried about the j-jokes at first, but I just t-tuh-told her it was b-because you l-luh-love her.”

My heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean? I-I don’t love Y/N.” I shook my head and forced a fake laugh, but it was too late. Bill already knew.

“Th-that’s ok, Eddie. We c-could tell. Th-th-the hard p-part was convincing Y/N ab-bout it.”

“Y/N,” I had to stop myself from screaming. “Y/N knows?! Bill, I totally annoy her, why would the-” His furrowed eyebrows made me stop. “What?”

“You d-d-don’t know?”

I shook my head, lost. “Know what?”

“Y/N l-luh-loves you.”

For a second I couldn’t breathe again. I stopped walking and stared at him. “There’s no way.”

He laughed. “Shuh-she does, R-ruh-Richie” He said matter-of-factly. “Y/N told the l-luh-losers wuh-weeks ago.”

I stared at him. “Weeks ago? Dude, why didn’t anybody tell me?!”

“She w-wanted you to f-fuh-find out on y-your own, Rich.” Bill walked down the stairs and over to his bike. I made note that the rest of the Loser’s had picked theirs up too. Mike, Ben, Stan, and Beverly were all looking at me, concerned.

“You ok, Richie?” Mike asked. I nodded and then glanced at Y/N. She met my eyes and gave me a warm smile, taking the chill out of my chest.

I knew that Bill was telling the truth but there was no way in hell I could accept it. I looked at Eddie. You knew the whole time, didn’t you? I spat sarcastically in my head. Eddie turned as if he could feel my glare and looked back at me, the corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk. Asshole. I chuckled and then looked at Y/N again. She was on her bike, one foot on its pedal, ready to ride away. I remembered how she stood up for me in my house, how she radiated warmth and light, how she kissed wrapped her arms around me when I introduced her to the Loser’s and they let her join, how she was my breath of fresh air, both within my house and the Crack-Heads’. Jokes may help you in your sulfur mine of a house, Tozier, but they won’t help under water. I told myself. Go chase your air.

I knew exactly what I had to do. I scuttled down the Neibolt steps, across the lawn, and over to Y/N’s bike. Glancing at Eddie I could see his content expression. He knew what I was doing. Don’t flatter yourself, Eddie Spaghetti. I chuckled in my head before standing in front of Y/N’s bike, my hands on her handlebars.

She put her pedal-foot down and began to speak, but I cut her off. “Y/N, I-I’ve been meaning to… to tell you that… well… I-I kinda-” Once again I couldn’t get the words out, and upon further inspection, I realized that Y/N’s lips were on mine. This is the kinda silence I can get behind. I could taste her cherry chapstick and I could smell her shampoo and I couldn’t help but close my eyes before pulling away. It was as if I’d just taken seventeen thousand hits of Eddie’s aspirator.

“I love you too, Richie.” She chuckled. All I could manage was a wow. She laughed again but louder. I leaned in again to kiss her cheek but the moment was broken by Eddie’s screaming.

“I fucking told you, Tozier!” He yelled, a smile overtaking his face. The Loser’s—myself and Y/N included—burst out in a swell of laughter.

I walked over and gave him a noogie. “I guess ya did Eddie Spaghetti.”

“Richie!” Eddie squealed. “My hair, Richie!” I laughed, reached down, and grabbed my bike. Bill pedalled Silver forward, the first to kick up the gravel of Neibolt Street. The rest of the Loser’s weren’t far behind. With Y/N and I riding in the back, we headed into town. Along the way, I couldn’t help but stare at her. She loves me. Y/N loves the Trashmouth, and the Trashmouth loves her too. And so we rode through Derry, forgetting all about old houses, and dusty air and fucking clowns. Instead, I appreciated the warmth of the July sun, the smell of what Stan calls Phlox flowers, and Y/N, because thanks to her, I can breathe.

I fucking love all of you lovely readers and I wish you all the best in life.

With love,

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fans-of-fiction · 6 years

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hi (also me from like 3 weeks ago) I sent in a few requests, one for a reddie fic and the F3 and E7. no rush or pressure but i would love it if you would consider writing one of these (especially F3 bc soft Richie). I low key have been checking your blog everyday in anticipation bc i love your writing! you're appreciated as an author and as a human. have a good day :))

I’m working on the RichiexReader in all the spare time I can manage, which unfortunately—thanks to school—isn’t a lot. But I am so excited for the finished product and I really hope I make you proud. Also: you are incredibly kind and tbh I adore you. I hope you’ve had a lovely week and I’ll get the imagine to you ASAP. With so much appreciation, E. PS - I love you

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fans-of-fiction · 7 years

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Hey do you do ships?

Heck yeah I do ships!

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fans-of-fiction · 7 years

Photo

whoops, I was Richie for Halloween. My bad.

#Halloween #ithalloween #it2017 #richie tozier #finn wolfhard #trashmouth

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fans-of-fiction · 7 years

Text

Throw a Letter and Number in my Inbox! Losers’ Club Imagines:

With 25 New Prompts!

A. Bill Denbrough

B. Ben Hanscom

C. Beverly Marsh

D. Mike Hanlon

E. Eddie Kaspbrak

F. Richie Tozier

G. Stanley Uris

Prompts:

1 - “You did WHAT?!”

2 - “You want me to do WHAT?!”

3 - Anxiety / Panic attack

4 - Swimming in the Quarry

5 - Building a dam in the Barrens

6 - Trouble with Bowers

7 - “Oh, fuck. What’s that?” “It’s a shoe.”

8 - Fighting Pennywise

9 - Secrets

10 - Extreme weather warning

11 - Missing Poster

12 - “Save me from this hell hole”

13 - “You love me?” “You have no idea.”

14 - Near Death / Severe injury

15 - Losers Picnic!

16 - Lost

17 - Thievery

18 - Mixed up Library books

19 - “Can’t I catch a break!?”

20 - Dirty Humour

21 - “Bet you can’t.”

22 - “Did he say what I think he said?”

23 - Losers in a record shop

24 - “You are mine and I don’t share.”

25 - Lame pickup lines.

26 - Help with Bullying

27 - “Is what they say about you true?”

28 - “Are you crying?”

29 - “You can’t tell anyone.”

30 - Getting into trouble

31 - Amnesia

32 - Confessions

33 - Embarrassment

34 - First Date

35 - Scary Movies

36 - School Project Partners

37 - “Can I borrow a dime… and your number?”

38 - Bird/Cloud Watching

39 - Protecting the Losers from a snow storm

40 - Stopping the Losers from getting in trouble

41 - Losers on Halloween!

42 - Losers at your bedroom window.

43 - Secret Admirer

44 - PTSD of Pennywise

45 - Barrens

46 - Building a Dam

47 - Night Walk/Nature Walk

48 - “What he doesn’t know won’t kill him.”

49 - Sunrise

50 - Sunset

51 - Facing a Fear

52 - PDA

53 - Running Out Of Time

54 - Fireworks

55 - Sleepless Night

56 - Trespassing

57 - School Trip

58 - Gossip

59 - In the Workplace

60 - In Hiding

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fans-of-fiction · 7 years

Text

Fucking Screaming:

So you guys know the nursery rhyme that is sung at the beginning of IT (2017)? I didn’t know why I recognized it but now I fucking do oh boy. It’s called Oranges and Lemons and it was sung by English children as a game, where at the end the kids would basically pretend to behead each other. The last lines are:

Here comes the candle to light you to bed.

Here comes the chopper to chop off your head.

Chip chop chip chop the last man is dead.

It was basically about public executions and sacrificing children and they would have sang it around when Pennywise showed up in the 17-1800s/the Roanoke period where the whole town died. The kids singing at the beginning of IT (2017) were taken by Pennywise and if that doesn’t give you the spooks I don’t know what will.

#it 2017 #oranges and lemons #fuck #spooked #it #wow #Pennywise

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fans-of-fiction · 7 years

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Bill please

I love and adore you for requesting. Thank you

Newest Bill Denbrough: https://fans-of-fiction.tumblr.com/post/166734941540/f-fuh-fuck-off-b-bowers-bill-denbrough-x-reader

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fans-of-fiction · 7 years

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Bill

I appreciate your request SO MUCH. Thank you, love

Newest Bill Denbrough: https://fans-of-fiction.tumblr.com/post/166734941540/f-fuh-fuck-off-b-bowers-bill-denbrough-x-reader

0 notes

fans-of-fiction · 7 years

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Tada! Thank you for requesting. As a writer it means a lot

Newest Bill Denbrough: https://fans-of-fiction.tumblr.com/post/166734941540/f-fuh-fuck-off-b-bowers-bill-denbrough-x-reader

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fans-of-fiction · 7 years

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Could you write a bill x reader where she's walking home from school & the bowers gang shows up and keeps messing with her but bill shows up &I just helps her out? I'm a sucker for cliches

Thank you so much for making a request

https://fans-of-fiction.tumblr.com/post/166734941540/f-fuh-fuck-off-b-bowers-bill-denbrough-x-reader

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fans-of-fiction · 7 years

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F-fuh-Fuck Off, B-Bowers - Bill Denbrough x Reader (IT)

-|| To the anon that requested: tysm ily and I hope you’re having a good day<3 I’m really sorry that the reader walked home from the library in July and not from school in another season. I hope it didn’t tinge your idea. <3 xoxo E ||-

Request: Could you write a bill x reader where she’s walking home from school & the bowers gang shows up and keeps messing with her but bill shows up & just helps her out? I’m a sucker for cliches.

Warnings: Language (haha, oops), Sexual References. Potential bullying triggers (It’s Bowers. I’m sorry)

A/N: Written in both Bill and Y/N’s POV. There are more flashbacks (whoops) but the timeline’s noted. Italics are internal thoughts. ‘Italics with quotes are past quotes.’

Words: 4613

July 1989 - Bill

The warm wind pushed Quarry water across my face as I pedaled home. My hair was plastered to my head, still wet from swimming with the Losers. Silver was kicking up gravel as I rode down Kansas street. As I admired the foliage of the Barrens below I could hear birds chirping in the thick branches. If Stan were there he would’ve told me what bird it was before he could manage to pull out his binoculars. I laughed at the thought as the green street sign for West Broadway appeared on my left. I made a wide curve onto the street and immediately spotted her.

It was Y/N. She was far ahead, nearly at the end of the street, but I could still see the wind sweep through her hair as she made her way south-east, her backpack bobbing with each step. I would have pedaled closer to her, tried to talk maybe, but any conversational topic was water in the desert of my brain, so instead, I rode safely behind her, and with luck she’d turn onto Witcham too. But as I glanced past Y/N, I determined there was no luck on West Broadway street, because where Witcham appeared, so did Henry Bowers.

I could feel anxiety bubbling in my guts like hot, sappy tar. I’d ridden past Bowers before. He–as well as Victor and Belch–had thrown sticks and rocks at Silver’s wheels, trying to get me to fall off. ‘How does it feel to be an ass, you stuttering freak?!’ Henry had yelled. Their laughs echoed in my head as I rode closer to Y/N. A sickening thought emerged from the tar that had made it’s way to my head. What if Bowers does it again? What if he succeeds this time? I thought. What if I eat shit in front of Y/N? The hot tar got hotter. I could feel my feet spinning around Silver’s gears at a slower pace as I subconsciously put off passing him, even if it meant never passing Y/N before she found where she was going.

I was watching the bullies with a concentration I could never muster in class. Y/N was close to them now. Close enough for one of them to reach out and grab her. “You b-better wuh-watch yourself B-Buh-Bowers.” I mumbled to myself, far out of their earshot. I was glad they couldn’t hear me but I was disappointed when I couldn’t hear Henry, who smirked down at Y/N and mumbled something.

It couldn’t have been something nice because Y/N stopped in her tracks and turned to the group. Victor and Belch were giggling to each other, but Henry seemed focused, determined. Like a wild cat studying its next meal. No, I pleaded in my head. No, Y/N don’t stop. Keep moving. God, please. But she didn’t move. She looked up at Henry defiantly as he continued to talk down to her, his eyes dancing over her frame. Something clicked in my head and suddenly I knew what was happening. He must’ve catcalled her. Bowers was trying to get in her pants.

The tar in my stomach was gone. It had bubbled into full-blown fire, fueling my feet which were spinning faster now, around and around the gears. Any trace of fear had vanished, giving way to anger and a longing to protect Y/N. Go ahead, assholes. Touch her, I dare you. I spat in my head. Give me a reason to put you in the hospital. I was surprised by my own courage, but made no effort to stunt it. Y/N was pure, and I’d die before I let those jack-offs tinge her soul.

I was close–within 150 feet at this point–when Henry whipped his arms up and grabbed Y/N by the shoulders. Any confidence that once radiated from her face was gone, leaving behind only fear. She was terrified, and I knew the feeling. She no longer looked like the stunning girl I saw the first day I met her. Instead, she looked like a stunning girl who was afraid. I could remember what she looked like that day. What she felt like. How she made me feel. How she made the world feel right.

May 1989 - Bill

“…and then I said, ‘that’s what your mom said last night,’ and he just wailed on me!”

The Losers burst out laughing at Richie, who was holding the left side of his face. “Well, no wonder he punched you,” Beverly chuckled.

“Hey, don’t trash the trashmouth,” Richie objected before furrowing his eyebrows and looking around. “Where the fuck is Eddie?” Richie turned on the bench in front of Mr.Keene’s pharmacy, still holding his face. With his free hand, he rapped on the glass and yelled inside. “Hey, Eddie Spaghetti! Where’s that ice?!”

Eddie pushed open the glass door and chucked a bag of peas at Richie’s chest. “Hey! It’s cold!” He yelped.

“Of course it’s cold, Einstein. I couldn’t find any bags of ice, but the peas should help. And don’t call me Eddie Spaghetti.”

“You know you love it when I call you that,” Richie chuckled and ripped open the top of the bag. “So how much am I supposed to eat?”

The Losers erupted in laughter again. Eddie threw the palm of his hand against his forehead with a clap. “Dumbass.”

Life felt good as we all laughed at Richie, who was spilling peas all over the sidewalk. The only thing that bothered to interrupt us was the deep rumble of a truck engine making its way down the street. MacPherson Moving Company was printed on the side in big, black letters. We all stared at the truck as it pulled over in front of the pharmacy. It managed to block out almost all of the sun hitting the store window.

None of us knew what to expect in terms of who was going to clamber out of the MacPherson Moving truck, but it wasn’t a young girl, who must’ve been our age, with a dollar bill in one hand and a Walkman in the other. She hopped out of the passenger’s side, gingerly landing on the pavement, then strolled into the pharmacy; and not for a second could I peel my eyes off her.

Ben must’ve noticed because he was giggling. Mike, Stan, and Beverly all joined him. Richie looked over, confused. “What?” He questioned. “What are you dorks giggling at?”

Eddie ducked his head beside Richie’s but didn’t bother to whisper. “Bill’s totally into her.”

Richie’s eyes widened at an alarming speed and he nearly dropped his peas. “Holy fuck!” He turned to me. “Are you into that hottie, Bill?” I could feel my cheeks growing hot. Richie noticed and laughed. “What the shit, dude? Why are you still here? Go in there and talk to her!” The Losers all nodded and mhmm’ed. Anxiety was bubbling in my guts, hot and viscous, like tar, but no matter how much it spat, I couldn’t stop thinking about the girl. She was so elegant. So beautiful. So- “Well, Billy? Are you gonna stand there all day?”

I turned to him. “R-Richie, even if I wuh-w-went in th-there and s-said ‘Hi’, what could I p-puh-possibly talk to her ab-bout?” Richie stood up. The bag of peas was completely empty, tossed on the ground near the bench. Richie put one hand on my back and the other on my chest. He leaned into my shoulder and whispered, “Just go in there, buy her a Dr.Pepper or something, and talk about your massive-”

“Richie!” Eddie yelled, disgusted. “That-That’s enough.”

Richie laughed again but was cut off by Mike. “Just ask her if she’s moving to Derry.”

Ben nodded. “Yeah, that’s a good idea! You can offer to give her a tour of Derry. You know, the big tourist sights.”

“Ha!” Richie coughed out. “Ladies and gentlemen; On the left: the Derry Public Library, on the right: Bassey Park, and if you look over here you’ll find my tasty shorts.”

Richie was howling. Stan wasn’t impressed. “Eddie, would you control him.”

“Me?!” Eddie Bleated. “You think I don’t try?!”

I may have laughed at Eddie but I was still thinking about the mystery girl. Though I wasn’t excited to admit it, Richie was right. If I didn’t talk to her soon I would drive myself batshit. I shoved my hand in my right pocket and rooted around, pulling out three dollars and twenty-eight… twenty-nine… thirty cents. Richie was still laughing when I turned and opened the door. The AC bit my chest as I stepped into Mr.Keene’s. She was directly ahead, just arriving at the cashier, her Walkman in her back pocket. I had taken several steps forward before the door shut and the jingle rung. She looked back at me, her eyes locking with mine. Suddenly the tar returned. It was roaring and churning so badly I almost turned and left, but looking back I saw Richie, his mouth hanging open, shocked that I wasn’t copping out.

Don’t back out now, Bill. I thought to myself. I looked at the shelf to my right. The minute-rices were looking extra interesting. I was within ten feet of her. It was an acceptable distance for a conversation, but I still couldn’t muster up the courage to talk, until she spoke first.

“I’m sorry,” She said softly. “How much did you say?”

Mr.Keene adjusted his glasses. “It’s fifty-five cents per cone, young lady. Plus taxes. So that puts us at… well, we can call it a dollar sixteen.

I knew she only had a dollar. I knew I had enough to cover her cost. I knew what to do. I grabbed the closest item I could find. She shook her head at the dollar bill in her open hand. “I’m afraid I only have a dollar. I-“

I tossed two chocolate bars on the counter and handed Mr.Keene the change from my pocket. “I’ll cover b-both of us, M-muh-Mr.Keene.” I whispered, suddenly hyper-aware of my stutter. What if she thinks you’re a freak, Bill? I questioned in my head. The tar broiled and bubbled up to my throat.

Mr.Keene looked down at me with a smirk on his face. He knew what I was doing. “Why, that’s very kind of you, Bill,” He said with a crafty tone. I glanced at the girl, but apparently, she didn’t value being stealthy. She was staring at me in disbelief. I couldn’t help but chuckle. Mr.Keene opened the register with a metallic clank and breathed out through his nose, frustrated. “Would you look at that,” He puffed. “Fresh out of nickels.” He closed the register. “Be right back, kids.” And with that, he turned and stepped into a back room.

I looked at the girl again. She was still staring, but her face had adopted a look of guilt. “You really didn’t have to do that for me.” Her voice washed over my ears like melted gold.

I wanted to pull her into my chest and wrap my arms around her frame, but instead, I forced a chuckle and shook my head. “It’s f-fuh-fuh-f-” I stopped. The word wouldn’t come out. Brush it off, Bill. Try again. Just try again. “I-it’s f-f-f-fuh-” I could feel the pressure of tears beneath my eyes, threatening to emerge and overflow like a burst pipe beneath the bathroom floor. That’s it, Bill. I was surrendering in my mind. You blew it, you freak.

She put a hand on my arm. It was warm and comforting and very surprising. “Thank you.” She confided. “I really appreciate what you did.” She was being genuine, looking in my eyes and suddenly I was the one staring. The tables had turned so quickly they made my head spin, but looking at her made me feel grounded, like I had found my center of gravity. “Mr.Keene said your name was Bill, right?” I didn’t know what to say–even if I could physically say it–so I just nodded. She chuckled. “It’s very nice to meet you, Bill. I’m Y/N.” Y/N, I repeated. There’s a name to the face. That beautiful, beautiful face.

Her eyes were so captivating that I had a hard time looking away, but I managed to glance off so that she didn’t think I was brain dead. Looking out the door I found Richie–surrounded by the rest of the Losers–gawking in the window. Everyone’s mouth was hanging open except for Richie’s, which only mouthed ‘Holy fuck’.

I chuckled, having found security knowing that the Losers were practically there with me. I looked back at Y/N, who was taking in the sight of the group of dorks. “Your friends?” She laughed.

I laughed too. “Y-yuh-yeah.”

She smiled ever so softly and looked at my lips. The tar had given way to pleasant heat. “How long have you had a stutter?” She asked. Her tone shocked me because it wasn’t demeaning or sarcastic. She was being legitimate.

I never had to answer that question to anyone that wasn’t a doctor, and it was odd, but not unpleasant. “E-ever s-ss-since I w-w-wuh-” I was struggling again. Shit.

I looked at her to see if I should just stop and let her finish the sentence herself–Knowing when to stop was the biggest lesson my stutter had taught me. That, and don’t open your mouth around Bowers–but she just smiled and said “It’s ok. Take your time.” It was as if someone had shone a new light on Y/N. In addition to the warm glow she gave off, being a genuine soul, this new light allowed me to see her in her purest form. A kind, soft, beautiful girl, who truly cared, and I could hear wedding bells.

“S-since I w-was y-yuh-young.” I managed to croak. Despite my struggle, I felt a sense of accomplishment in completing the sentence, and in knowing that Y/N didn’t think I was a freak. She was like my favourite sweater and a good book, a source of absolute comfort. A cozy hiding place. I could feel the struggle wearing off my tongue. “Thanks for l-letting me f-fuh-finish.” I managed. “M-most puh-people just think I’m a-an ass.”

She threw her eyebrows up in surprise, then let them down and chuckled. “Well, if they’re dumb enough to bother to tell you that then they’re the real asses.”

Suddenly Mr.Keene appeared with shiny new coins. He handed me my change and my chocolate bars. “Here you go, Bill.” He gave Y/N her ice cream cones.”Miss.” Then he smiled like he had single-handedly saved the world. “Have a good day you two!” And with that, he walked off again.

Y/N chuckled and shifted both packaged ice cream cones to one hand. With a soft precision you could only find in the most talented artists, she raised both arms, gently wrapping them around the tops of my shoulders. Her hug took me by surprise, so it took a second for me to hug her back, though I had no problem doing so. She radiated warmth, like the sun on a perfect summer day. “Thank you again, Bill. I’ll repay you someday.” She cooed into the crook of my shoulder. Fuck, she smelt like happiness. “And if it means anything,” She said, turning and starting for the storefront. “I like the stutter.” She reached the door and smiled back at me once more. ”I think it’s cute.”

I could feel my heart melting, sending waves of heat up to my cheeks. It stopped me from leaving the pharmacy for a few seconds, but I managed to toss the bars in my pocket and step out, just as the truck was pulling away.

All the Losers were in shock. All except the trashmouth. “So, Billy.” Richie chuckled. “You gonna-” He was laughing so hard at himself that he could hardly finish his sentence, but he managed to spit out “You g… bone… new girl?”

Stan scoffed and Eddie wailed but I couldn’t take my eyes off the truck. I realized that I never actually asked her if she was moving Derry. You may never see her again. I cried to myself briefly, before abolishing the thought. She could live across the world… it wasn’t going to stop me. “No, Richie,” I mumbled. “I’m gonna marry her.”

July 1989 - Y/N

You had walked home from the library using West Broadway countless times, but not once had you ever been faced with Henry Bowers. Not once had you been reduced to getting catcalled by a kid with a mullet. Not once had Bowers ever actually scared you… until today, which you figured just wasn’t your day.

You had seen Bowers parading around school like some hillbilly king but never paid him any mind. You knew the stories of things he did to scrawny little kids, but you figured it was all a show, like expensive clothes on a broke kid, or a brave face on a coward. You knew that’s all Bowers was. A coward, a phony, a paper man.

In all the days you passed him getting shit from the principal, or brushing his ratty hair in the window of Belch Huggins’ Trans-Am, you realized that not once had he ever seen you. This realization dawned when you tried to make your way past the group of guys, not far from the junction of West Broadway and Witcham. You figured they wouldn’t give you trouble. You figured you’d be fine at your current distance of seven feet, but as Henry scanned you up and down while Belch Huggins joined Victor Criss in whistling and cawing beside him, you got anxious. Not fine, You thought to yourself. You felt like hot tar was burning and bubbling in your guts. Just let me make it to Witcham, You pleaded. Just let me make it home.

Bowers had waited for the right moment to make his move, and now that you were directly in front of him, he had found it. He smirked down at you from his height and mumbled, “Hey, babe. Penny for a piece of your shorts?”

Just a paper man, Y/N. You reassured yourself. Give him his own medicine. Stopping in your tracks you looked up at Bowers with defiant eyes smeared on fake confidence. “I’ll give you a nickel if you jump in the barrens and never come back, Bowers.”

Belch’s jaw dropped and Victor made a sound that resembled an injured owl. Both were staring at Henry, neither had any clue how he would react. They viewed Henry like a time-bomb under Derry, waiting to blow a hole in the small town without any warning, but Henry knew himself. He knew he wasn’t about to be stood up. Not by anyone. “What,” he spat. “You don’t think could handle a little work like you?”

You forced a chuckle. Another layer on the canvas of fear that you desperately tried to cover with false confidence and various splotches of bravery. “I don’t think you could handle your own little work, Bowers.” That’s good enough. You babbled to yourself. Now’s the time to leave.

Henry threw his arms up and clamped them down on your shoulders, causing you to squeak out in surprise. You quickly became hyper-aware of your surroundings. You could feel the wind pulling on your hair, you could hear the trees rustling in time with the wind-chimes that hung from the porch of the house across the street, and you could see the hatred buried deep in Henry’s eyes. You knew he was leaving red patches on your shoulders where he refused to let go. “You know what, bitch?” He spat. “You should know not to fuck with me. I think you need a lesson on who you’re messing with.”

You had no motivation to throw on the tough-girl act again. They knew that wall had crumbled, and Henry was feeding on it like a starving animal. You caught a look at Victor, who looked a little pale. He had no idea what Henry was about to drag his ass into and it made him antsy. At that point you figured you had two options; The first was delivering a swift kick to Henry’s little work and bolting for it, praying the whole way home that you could out-run them. The second was staying and getting the shit beaten out of you by Bowers. The first option was surely the better of the two, but Henry was still fixed to your frame, and fear had made your knees weak. You knew you couldn’t outrun them. Please, God. You prayed. Please help me out of this. Send a guardian angel to take me home. Please, God just let me get out of this.

As if he heard your plea, God filled your ears with the sweet sound of rubber scraping gravel. He had sent angel on a bike to rescue you, and craning your neck to the side you found your savior; Bill Denbrough. You could remember the first day you met him. You were short on change and swooping through the cold Air Conditioned pharmacy on his golden wings he had rescued you then too. Bowers didn’t let go but you couldn’t feel him anymore. The memories of Bill flooded over you like a warm shower on a cold December night. You remembered how sweet he was, how selfless. You remembered how red his cheeks got when he stuttered. You remembered how he felt like sunshine and smelt like happiness when you hugged him. You could still feel the regret of leaving him in Mr.Keene’s. You could still feel how he made the world feel right.

Bill skidded up to the group. “Hey Buh-B-Bowers,” He struggled. He was nervous but he hid it well. “How about y-you leave h-her a-a-lone?”

Bowers actually let go at that point so that he could turn to the newest challenger. Mocking Bill, he ragged with a bad fake-stutter. “H-huh-how ab-buh-bout y-you fuck off, freak?”

Bill looked at you with concerned eyes. You could see the purity in his face, the worry. Bill genuinely cared about you, and you loved him for it. You made a mental note to kiss him once you were both safely away from these assholes. Henry looked down at you again. It ignited a black fire in the back of your mind. How dare you demean Bill, you scrub. Your thoughts fumed. I hope he tears you apart.

“F-fuh-fuck off, B-Bowers.” Bill snapped.

Not only did it shock you, but it shocked the bullies too. Both you and Bill saw it. Henry–for the briefest amount of time–let fear shine through his unforgiving exterior. Paper man, meet lighter, Bill seemed to say with his stance. He was off his bike at that point.

Belch and Victor repeatedly exchanged glances. They were worried that Henry would do something beyond his usual raging threshold and that he would drag them into trouble whether they liked it or not, and for the first time ever you agreed with them. You all wanted to leave and let Henry fume on his own. Bill acknowledged them by making and maintaining eye contact. ‘We’re not afraid of you.’ He chided silently. ‘So you can quit pretending you enjoy this and leave us alone.’

Victor, who appeared to get the message, tugged on Henry’s sleeve. “What the fuck do you want, pansy?” Bowers shouted.

Victor was clearly more afraid of the punishments Henry would bring upon them than he was of Henry. “Dude, how ‘bout we just get outta here, huh?” He whispered.

Belch nodded. “Yeah, Henry. We were gonna hit Costello, remember?”

Henry’s anger shifted from you and Bill to Victor and Belch. You and Bill caught this, and you weren’t complaining. “You two are a bunch of fuckers, you know that right?” He scolded, before turning to you and leaning down. Henry wasn’t all that taller than you, but he still managed to make you feel minuscule. Thought taking another look at his face allowed you to see that he was tired. Being a brooding asshole really takes it out of you, huh, Bowers? You chirped. The fight was over, and with Bill at your side, the two of you had won. “This isn’t over, you shitheads. We’ll be seeing you soon.”

“Yeah,” Belch added. He seemed proud. “Real soon.” and with a final ‘Shut the fuck up, Reginald.’ from Henry, the gang walked off. You and Bill were free.

July 1989 - Bill

The bullies scuffed off, heading the way both Y/N and I had walked down West Broadway. We watched them walk away, with Henry occasionally looking back at us, flipping us off only once.

I turned to Y/N. I could see the fear melting from her face as she watched Bowers walk away. It was reassuring to the point where I finally felt the weight of what I had done. I turned Bowers away in front of Y/N. Is this what Spider-Man feels like after saving Gwen? I pondered. Y/N turned her head to me. Her cheeks were rosy. All the fear was gone, leaving behind her usual sunshine.

I smiled at her and she smiled back. “You shouldn’t have done that, Bill.” She joked. “Bowers is going to be after the both of us. I owe you big time now.”

I shook my head, unable to wipe the grin off my face. “Y-you don’t o-owe me a-a-anything, Y/N.” I managed, but the temptation to reach out and kiss Y/N was growing in my chest, making me nervous. I was close enough to do it, but God she was too beautiful for me to handle. I could barely handle myself and my stutter, much less her. “W-we can c-c-call i-i-it e-” I couldn’t form my sentence. My head was tumbling and my lips were on Y/N’s.

Looking down I found her hands gently placed around the back of my neck. She had pulled me in, her soft lips on mine. I couldn’t help but close my eyes and thank God.

She pulled away, glanced at my lips again, then looked me in the eyes. “Thank you, Bill.” She said softly. “You may have just saved my life.” The only thing I could think to say was ‘Ditto.’ She chuckled. “I swear you’re my guardian angel.”

I wanted to hold her close and say ‘I’m not the angel here’ but instead I just laughed. Then I remembered that she was making her way somewhere. I don’t care where you go. I thought. As long as I can take you there. Reaching down I grabbed my bike off the concrete. “Need a ride?”

Y/N beamed. She was exhausted and whether or not she wanted to show it, I knew. “I don’t want to trouble you, Bill. I live up Witcham and-”

“Don’t w-worry.” I assured, smiling. “Me too.” I took her hand gently, leading her to the bike. “I’ll t-take you to your house on one c-condition.” She furrowed her eyebrows a little, confused. “You have to promise me I can take you to Bassey Park tomorrow, too.”

She smiled again, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’d love that, Bill.” She cooed, sliding on the seat behind me before kissing me on the cheek. Thank God she was behind me because I could feel my cheeks heating up again. She wrapped her arms around my stomach and laid her head on my back as we started again down West Broadway, then Witcham. I yelled “Hi-Ho, Silver. Away!” and off we rode, happy and free.

I adore you all with everything i am and I hope you’re having amazing days, nights and/or work breaks. With love and appreciation: E <3

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