#beverlys always been a good judge of character and she keeps inviting will to their team bonding things and its getting awkward

[backpackingspace]

I think given enough time zeller would have (extremely reluctantly ) come to like will.

[henrybcwer]

Simple minds

REQUEST: hi !! could u write a really fluffy henry x female reader fic where he kinda confesses to her all blushy and flustered and they go out on their cute first date and she's really sweet and he's flustered the whole time but makes a move at the end sorry if that's too much lol but thank you !!! I really like your blog ! <3

A/N: I am a giant slut for fluff prompts but Henry Bowers is a bitch to write in character for these things. So it might not be as fluffy as you want it. This is part one of two. The second one will have cuter scenes, I promise. [Part 2]

Closely linked by history and similar interests, Vic and Belch have been with Henry through every crush the boy has experienced. With many of them being superficial and almost always fleeting, they’re unsure if they’ve ever seen him genuinely like someone before. If he ever did, he hid it well behind a callous persona; a good chance why his romantic relationships never blossomed into anything more than one-sided disdain.

“The arcade got a new game.”

“I don’t get paid till Friday.”

“Take some kid’s lunch money.”

It’s a scripted conversation. One that varied depending on the news but never progressed past anything that could hold Henry’s interest when you were present. The introduction to Careless Whisper plays stagnant in his mind as watchful eyes follow your every step with a friend by your side. Just looking at you makes his stomach turn and he can’t pinpoint if it due to disgust or infatuation.

“Bowers.” Patrick hits the daze’s blonde in the arm, causing him to be abruptly jarred and defensively jaded.

“What?”

“We’re skipping next period for the arcade. Let’s go.”

Henry waves off the offer, watching you say your goodbyes to you friend then detouring through the door nearest to where his gang stood. Without much of an explanation, besides a brisk “Go without me.” He ditches them, ducking into the class the two of you shared for that period.

He takes the desk right behind yours and sets the trap. “Shit.”

On cue you turn your body towards him and quip a smile. “Lemme guess, you forgot your homework?”

He smirks. “How didja know?”

“You have a bad habit of ‘forgetting’ it every day you deign to show up.” Strategically placing your purse on his desk, you shuffle through a folder labeled MATH in crazy curly type handwriting and hand him your finish homework.  You find it remarkable how fast he can copy your notes without leaving chicken scratch in his wake. It’s the kind of ability that comes from years of experience in cheating off other students. Not that you were one to judge. Your whole middle school social life was anchored around those who would let you copy their homework. It was only fair you pay you debt to society.

He finishes in record speed and you half expect him to walk out like he’s done so many times in the past that it doesn’t occur to you that you’re staring.

“See somethin’ you like?”

Your eyes widen, slightly embarrassed of being caught, but to answer his question, yeah. Your lips part ever so slightly when you tilt your head a calculated degree. “Did you always that silver earring?” Extending your hand towards the metal jewel, the pads of your fingertips marking their path with goosebumps as they brush against his cheek and neck.

He almost wants to lean into your touch. He almost does, but you pull away too quickly at the sound of heavy footsteps entering the classroom. The telltale steps settles down the class noise signaling that class will begin shortly.

Your teacher, Mr. Allen, opens class with a vague threat about his cheating policies, though he doesn’t mention any names, Henry catches an intended glare behind the rim of his glasses directed at the two of you. He can only assume you see it too as you slouch in your sit, making yourself as small as possible. It doesn’t stop him from handing in his plagiarism, practically daring Mr. Allen to do something about it.

And he does.

The next day you find yourself in detention, accompanied by seven other students, three of them belonging to the Bowers gang, the leader himself included. You take a seat next towards the window, a good two rows away from where the boys sat.

Whispers, too low to be registered by the supervising staff’s hearing aids, come from the gang’s vicinity as Henry laments his girl problems with the only two people that have been by his side from the beginning. Unfortunately, it was very much a blind leading the blind scenario since not a single one of them have had an actual relationship with a girl since elementary.

While your ear drums were far superior to that of your authority, you still can’t quite make out what their saying and though you don’t fault Henry for getting you in this mess, you knew the risks, it irks you that he gets a social club and you’re stuck bored for an hour. Pondering what to do, you find satisfaction in making a paper football with the words ‘whatcha doin’?’ scribbled on the front. You flick it, shielding a soft giggle behind your hand when it bounces off Henry’s head.

Eyebrows raise and he glances back at you, the sun casting a halo glow over your body so much so it hurts to look at you directly. Reading over the note, he writes back on loose leaf notebook paper, crumpling it up and tossing it back at you.

None of your business

Can I make it my business?

No

Must be some real embarrassing shit

You watch him struggle with his reply; Belch and Victor tussling over the paper with him in a vain attempt to ‘help’ him with a witty come back. It was only a joke but with each passing second it becomes clear that you’ve hit a nerve.

When you receive his note you’re convince they’re joking. Flustered but convince. There was an attempt to scratch out the words FUCK YOU written in his handwriting, not that it surprised you, Henry was never much of a wordsmith. Underneath it however was a more blockish handwriting , one you’ve never seen before.

Wanna go out?

There were two boxes beneath it, one labeled YES and the other FUCK YES. You look over to see Belch and Victor snickering  and pointing with both their hands at their fearless leader who was now nose to the desk and arm curled tightly around his face flushed red from anger and embarrassment. You answer back with a box of your own.

Only if you pay

Deal

--

Henry doesn’t talk much on your date. Whether because of nerves or lack of interest you can’t tell, but he nods at all the right moments in your stories, asking follow up questions that are never too in-depth but prods you to keep the conversation alive.

He takes you to a movie theater that—of no surprise to you, his friends also happen to be at. Belch hands you and Henry tickets he already bought. The quizzically look you gave Belch was enough for Henry to answer on the teen’s behalf, “Don’t worry, he has a job.” His hand moves to the small of your back and guides you into the theater, not allowing you time to overthink it.

The two of you share a large popcorn, Victor having the ingenious idea for Henry to use that as an excuse for you two to touch like in those cliché romantic movies. Not counting on Henry to be so engrossed with the movie he doesn’t even try to make a pass at you. During the second lull in the film, he stretches his arms above his head and you take it as a signal, leaning in ready for the classic sneak-an-arm-around-the-date maneuver, only to feel like an idiot when his arms come back down, crossing over his chest.

This motherfucker.

--

There was a murder in that theater that day. Your confidence had been shot and Henry Bowers was the culprit to pull the trigger. Not once has he tried anything on you. No cat calls or suggestive remarks or a forceful kiss against your consent—Not that you wanted that but—. You know what he’s like, you’ve seen him at school, on the streets, shouting lewd comments at other women. You know for a fact that he ate out Beverly Marsh in public behind an alleyway the first time they talked. So what’s wrong with you? Where you not pretty enough or was your gut right the first time and all of this was just a horrible joke that’s been taken one step too far?

For the rest of the date you mourn over the blow; talking softer, becoming more aloof and over all distant. And Henry, being the man he is, doesn’t pick up on any of it.

To be fair, he was facing down his own demons. His mind kept drifting off to that moment in class, when you so boldly reached out to touch him. You had only grazed him but he always figured your hands were soft. No amount of moisturizer could ever turn his farm labored hands into what yours were and he was constantly reminded that late at nights under the privy of his sheets.

It takes an astounding amount of self control not to get a hard on just standing next to you, the way you sway your hips or how your low-cut dress exposed the curves of your cleavage. He wanted so badly to fuck you in the alley between the theater and Aladdin’s but you weren’t like the other girls he’s been with. And not in that pseudo better than other girls bullshit way. He’s sure if he actually took the time to know those one time flings and whores he’d find you shared similar traits with all of them. In some bizarre way maybe that’s what attracted him to you, that you were a collection of traits and personalities that made his heart skip a beat with a simple smile.

“Well… this is my house.” You crack a half smile.

“Uh, yeah.”

“I had a good time, we should do it again sometime.”

“Yeah.”

There is a beat of silence, giving him plenty time to make a move on you.

Nothing.

He looks at you with a weird look on his face. Like he isn’t sure how these dates are supposed to end. Did he expect you to invite him in while your parents were staring from the windows?

“Ok…”  You swallow down you pride and fear and anything else holding you back and using his arm as a balance, place a soft kiss on Henry’s cheek. Then you make a dash for the door, face flush and burning up, you can feel a mist of sweat cover your forehead, yelling out in a broken pitch “Bye!”

The kiss, no matter how chaste, was enough to push him over the edge. A bulge swelling in his pants on the way back home, pressing against the seams, and he reaches down to adjust himself in his jeans. He knew it. Even your lips were soft. Henry could only imagine what other parts of you felt like.

Next time, he thinks. Next time he won’t have to imagine, he’ll know.

[dazingsky]

Hinting (Reddie)

HELLO I’VE BEEN SUPER BUSY BUT HERE I AMMMM

summary: Hi can I get a richie x reader request? Where she's new and richie see her and is like damn and it turns out she is pretty much richie. This leads to clapback wars and the Losers constantly tease richie about his crush. One day the bickering becomes so much one of the Losers blurts out their feelings. Blushy adorableness ensues.

I CHANGED IT TO REDDIE, I COULDNT NOT IM SORRY HDHSBSJD

Anyway, word count: 1,783

Please leave me requests and enjoy this!

Richie Tozier’s friend group wasn’t exactly large. But it wasn’t exactly small. It was the perfect size. And Richie loved his friends. More than anything, each in their own way.

Richie loved Ben because he had a way of being happy no matter what. He always seemed in the mood to cheer up Richie. Ben wrote poetry, and shared his poems with the group. He talked about his old town, and complained about how he hadn’t moved to Derry quicker, and met the Losers.

Richie loved Beverly because she was always willing to smoke with Richie. Of course he loved her for other reasons, but that was a big up. Beverly was good with secrets as well though. Beverly was the first person Richie told when he realised he liked girls and boys. Beverly had laughed, and said “same”, whilst grinning at Richie. Richie loved her for not treating him differently, although none of the other boys judged him either.

Richie loved Mike because Mike was always cracking subtle jokes. He was good for a laugh. But he could also be ridiculously serious, at any time. Mike also knew a lot about food. He cooked for the group a lot, especially around the holidays. Full course meals. And deserts. It was amazing. It was heavenly food. Richie thought he could be a chef with the amount of knowledge of food, although Mike wanted to be a vet.

Richie loved Bill because he was outgoing, even though he had a stutter. Bill was also very good at art, and writing. He often wrote stories about the group, and painted pictures for each of the member of the group. And Bill was easy to talk to. About anything. Like Beverly.

And Richie loved Stan. Stan was Richie’s favourite member of the group. He was stern, and intelligent, and always managed to make Richie laugh. He made profoundly subtle jokes, which always managed to crack Richie up. Richie and Stanley had been friends forever, basically. And that’s why Richie trusted him enough with his ‘personal’ information.

He shouldn't have.

He had sat down, in Stan’s living room, beside Stan, and began the confession. “You know that new kid, in our year, Eddie?” Stanley had nodded slowly, not fully paying attention. The tv was playing cartoons, which were much more interesting to Stanley than most of what Richie had to say. “I think I like him..” Richie blurted.

This caught Stan’s attention. He turned to look at Richie, trying to remember everything about Eddie, so he could tease Richie. “You like the kid who wear’s pale pink jumpers, and carries around strawberry scented hand sanitiser?” Stan asked, a small smirk forming on his face, as he took in Richie’s appearance. A pink floyd tank top, black skinny jeans, a black hoodie, and a pair of black doc martins. And his black hair was a mess. “You.”

“Shut up.” Richie snapped, feeling a blush form on his face. Stanley smirked, a smug look on his face. “I don’t know what it is about him, but he’s just cute. And I don't know.” Richie sighed, rolling his eyes at Stanley.

“That’s cute Rich, a bit strange, but cute nonetheless.” Stanley laughed, as Richie hit his arm. “You have to admit, it’s kinda weird though. You guys are, like, polar opposites! Plus I’ve known you basically your entire life, and in your entire 16 years you’ve never liked anyone.” Richie shrugged, feeling embarrassed. He didn’t like talking about his personal feeling with Stan. Or anyone, for that matter. But he felt like he needed to tell someone. And Stan was the person he had chosen. Although now he was regretting it. “It’s no big deal, he probably isn't gay.”

“He’s completely gay. Through and through. One hundred percent.” Richie rose an eyebrow at Stan, causing the boy to shrug. “Have you seen him? He’s definitely gay.” Stanley laughed, again. “Do the others know?”

“No you’re the only person I’ve told.” Stan nodded slowly, thinking for a second.

“We should invite him to Bill’s on Saturday.” Stan suggested. “It’d be fun. Plus you don’t even have to invite him, if you feel nervous, I will! It’ll work like a charm!” Richie nodded slowly, although he had no idea what he had gotten himself into.

When Saturday rolled around, Richie was terrified. Stan had asked the other losers if it was okay for Eddie to come, and by the way Stan not so subtly hinted, they had all said yes so they could see Richie’s reactions throughout the evening. Friday afternoon, after biology, Stan had walked with Eddie and mentioned the movie day that Bill was hosting the following day. Eddie had agreed to come, almost immediately, and had grinned at Stan.

“He seems like a really nice guy.” Stan had said, in a bored tone, as he read through a magazine that had been lying on Bill’s coffee table. Stan had made himself at home in Bill’s house, almost as soon as soon as he’d walked in. Stan and Bill were very close though. Probably because they’re secretly in love.

“He is. He’s in my Math’s class, and he’s incredibly polite to the teachers.” Ben said, from his place on the floor. Richie turned to look at him, nodding slowly. “Exact opposite of you, Richie.” Ben teased.

Richie mumbled a quiet ‘shut up, Ben,’ and continued pacing. He had been doing that since he arrived at Bill’s a half hour ago. Bill had requested he stopped pacing around 5 times, but Richie continued.

“It’s so cute to see Richie this nervous!” Bev laughed, placing a hand on Richie’s shoulder, and turning him to face her. “Calm down. He’s just coming over to hang out.”

“What if he hates me?!” Richie was practically shaking. And then the doorbell rang. “Fuck.” Richie shrieked, as Beverly pushed him towards the door. Richie was shaking even ore now, nerves ripping through his body. He bit his lip, harshly, reaching his shaking hand out to grab the door handle.

Richie swiftly swung the door open, and came face to face with Eddie Kasobrak. Eddie looked straight back at Richie, opening his mouth slowly. “Is this Bill’s house?” Richie nodded quickly, in response to Eddie’s question.

“Come in!” Richie said quickly, stepping back to let the smaller boy into the house. Eddie walked inside slowly, looking around. Every one of the losers were stood at the entrance to Bill’s living room, watching the boys, intently.

Eddie looked over at the group assembled, in the door frame. “Hi.” He muttered, quietly. Everyone seemed to fall back into their normal selves, instead of staring at the boys. Beverly came over, greeting Eddie, which allowed Richie to slip away unnoticed.

“You need to calm down.” Stanley hissed at Richie, shaking his head. “Get yourself under control.”

Richie eventually did calm down. He went back to being his usual self. He sat on the floor, during the first movie, and made his usual crude remarks abut different things. Everything seemed to be going okay, until the losers began making jokes.

They were watching the main character from the film confess his love to the other main character. He had everything planned. He was going to sit the girl down, and say he couldn't live without her. There was a laugh from one of the couches, and then there were whispers throughout the group. Until, finally, a hand landed on Richie’s shoulder, and a daring Mike leaned down, laughing “Man, thats just like you” in Richie’s ear. Richie rolled his eyes, attempting to ignore Mike, but these jokes continued.

At first they were sightly subtle, but they continued to get more out there, until Ben casually said, “I think Richie should just tell him.” Richie immediately felt the flush crawl up his neck, continuing until it hit his face. Richie looked at Eddie from the side of his eye, watching as Eddie looked at the others on the couch, biting his lip. He knew. Those fuckers had basically just outed me, completely, to the boy who had only been sat with us for an hour. Richie thought. He instantly stood up, almost falling over his damn feet, and quickly made his way over to Bill’s front door. “I need some air.” He lied, and slammed the door shut after him.

He sat down, on Bill’s porch steps, and stared ahead of him. Any chances he had with Eddie had been flung out the window, because of Ben’s inability to keep his damn mouth shut. Richie stared off into the distance, biting his lip. He sighed loudly, when he heard the door behind him open and shut.

“Go away, I’m not in the mood, Stanley.” Richie snapped, without turning around. Stanley always tried to talk him down after he got pissed off.

“It’s not Stanley..” A quiet voice said, causing Richie to turn around. He looked up, at Eddie, who seemed to be looming over him. “Can I sit?”

Richie nodded slowly, watching Eddie walk down the first step, and sit down beside Richie. The pair sat in silence for a moment. Richie didn’t know how to even strike up a conversation with the boy beside him, so they just sat in silence. Until Eddie broke it.

“Do you like me?” Eddie asked, slowly. It was a blunt question, but there was genuine curiosity in Eddie’s voice. Richie turned slightly, looking at Eddie, with almost wide eyes. “Do you?” Eddie asked again.

“Yes..” Richie said quietly, looking down at his lap.

“Why?”

Richie looked at Eddie again, quickly. Eddie’s face was full of curiosity again, and he looked adorable. “You’re cute.. Really cute, Ed’s.” Richie said the nickname as if he had said it 100 times before, even though he had never said it before. He didn’t even know where it came from.

“We’ve never even talked before.” Eddie said, a blush forming on his cheeks, his eyes still wide. “How do you even know you like me..?”

“I just do.” Richie shrugged, fiddling with his fingers. His eyes were still focused on Eddie’s. So focused, in fact, that he didn't even notice Eddie leaning in, until Eddie’s eyes were closed, and his lips were pressed to Richie’s.

And then Richie’s eyes fluttered closed, and he found himself kissing back. And it was gentle, and slow. And to Richie it felt right. And he really hoped it felt right to Eddie, as well. Richie found himself pulling away, reluctantly, to find out why Eddie had kissed Richie.

“I do too.” Eddie shrugged, blushing more than before, and grinning. And Richie couldn't help but grin as well, leaning in to kiss the boy, again.