#even if Stanley is a shy one he does like hugs | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

boxwinebaddie · 9 months

Note

Style beach day PLEASE

ohhhhh my god. my friend, you do not understand. i was born for this. years of watching famous/infamous ‘beach day’ filler episodes in animes has prepared me thoroughly for this moment.

what’s funny is chapter one of pep was actually my riff on ‘what if south park was a style anime that had a dramatic, iconique beach day episode?’

but i will happily, gladily — nay — it would be my honor to give you another one :) on an actual beach and not that hellscape pond

so i am going to say they are on a junior/senior class field trip or the cfpom ( the core four plus one more ) are just taking a road trip during spring break because fuck u shitpark chodearado why does everyone else get to score bad bitches shake some ass and catch some waves at the beach? why not us, bitch!?

so the boys ( and dearest marj ) use good ole google to find a beach and they sure do — it’s beautiful! everyone is stoked!

except for kyle! surprise surprise! kyle is not stoked! kyle hates the mf beach! it’s too hot he literally is a human sunburn he fucking hates sand is disgusted by all the weird wet algae plant matter, scared of the weird little sand crabs trying to pinch his ass 25/8 ( me too besties i understand u ), thinks people are loud and ugly and is committed to having the worst time of his life bc he is the fucking fun police.

i imagine even outside of vampire au kyle he looks like marceline the vampire queen on the beach:

big ass sun hat like HUGE, huge sunglasses, swim shirt…is he wearing the star of david swim trunks from the 7th grade flashback bc he hates swimming so much he doesn’t have another pair…it’s more likely than u think shsksk sitting there under a fucking massive beach umbrella mad as hell trying to read like the picture of dorian grey scowling at every child so aggressively that one cries! that man is here for one reason and one reason only…

can we all guess? shsjks

stanley randall william marsh, of course ;)

( everyone say gaaaaaaaaaay )

who….there is always a risk factor involved when taking that man to any large body of water because there is a small likelihood that…he will not come home and decide to stay there forever dhskks

kyle had assessed the risk factor of having to visit this god awful place to visit his super best fantasy mermaid ( best friend ) boyfriend for the rest of his life….and decided it was worth it to ogle him in his natural habitat…which kyle baby i totally understand…

because stan….of course, looks fucking beautiful.

he always does that son of a bitch. but especially in the sun, at the beach, badly bleached blonde but gloriously tan ofc. how can a man look that beautiful in terrance and phillip swim trunks is truly a mystery to kyle…girls are taking snapchats of him like ‘jessica look at this fine ass man on the beach he is short but ill slouch’, he’s like handing seashells to little girls, picking up beach trash on his way to kyle who is…not reading his book again…fkn idiot like ur iq is 900000 STAND UP! everyone’s favorite emo beach angel

and ofc when he gets to kyle stan is like kyle pile~ <3 u know in the way that makes him want to throw up from stress, will u put sunscreen on my back marj is shy, last time kenny moaned dhsjs and i don’t trust cartman not to draw a dick plus…..i want u to! :)

( everyone say gaaaaaaaay again dhsjsk )

and kyle says “absolutely” in the most shrill least chill fucking voice in the world because he totally *didn’t* have a dream like this one time shskkds Pain!

so kp lovingly ( awkwardly bc he thinks he is going to die ) administers the sunscreen onto extremely stunning sbf back and before stan leaves he folds all his little cheap emo boy jewlery into kyles clammy sunscreen covered hand and gives him a hug which….kyle is getting too much action this beach episode and we are five minutes in pray for him

then stan is like “ok i’m off but if i don’t make it back i love you” like dead serious and kyle is like please pinch me am i dead ( also dead serious ) and stan laughs and is like no dumbass but the ocean is an unpredictable mistress i am at her mercy and u never know so ily kp enjoy ur freaking lame nerd book and please try to have a little fun for me <3

then u know they secret style handshake stan grabs his surfboard and shoots kyle the ~shaka~ and is off

kyle…naturally…reads three entire pages of the picture of dorian gray before proceeding to spend an uninterrupted 30 minutes watch stan do beautiful sexy merman things in the water

meanwhile elsewhere kenny has obviously acquired the tlc and attention of every fine ass milf in the area also a white claw lmaoooo marj is tall as hell also wearing a hello kitty bathing suit and is decimating at beach volleyball! like her skill is unmatched she looks really sweet but she is wiping the floor w all these chads and brads!

also she almost kills cartman with the volleyball bc she spikes it but also…regrettably with all her jealous rage watching every hot mom hit on kenny and it hits cartman right in the head and knocks him out cold! HKKSLHD SLAY OLAY!

and u know…maybe we should be concerned that cartman has a concussion but he also said a lot of mean things abt how women’s sports weren’t real or valid and he would not be concerned abt anyone else…so what does kenny do tell marj she’s a hero and then bury cartman in a sand body suit and give him massive sand stripper titties! cowabunga dude!

kyle high fives kenny for his sick….but sick handiwork and they laugh for a little and then kyle is like huh wait kenny have u seen stan ( bc of course during the five second interval that he wasn’t like staring shamelessly behind his sunglasses stan goes fucking MISSING ) and kenny is like ging baby relax have a sip of white claw ur tripping stan is literally half fish he’s fine

which does not work because at that exact moment kyle watches in full frontal horror as stans surfboard hits the shoreline WITH NO STAN NEAR OR ON IT and like looks down at all stans little adhd boy jewlery and sparks dog tag necklace and is suddenly sooooo sick and is like nononono something is fucking wrong im gonna check on him

this is the climax of the beach episode ofc ( WHICH REALLY WAS COMEDY GOLD AND FAN SERVICE FILLER UNTIL THIS POINT SMH ) bc kyle whips off his big ass hat and sunglasses and goes ruuuuuuuning into that unpredictable ocean this is his antihero moment

( i swear kyle is like lawful neutral bc he likes order and stan marsh and no one else and stan is like neutral good n not lawful bc one time he accidentally stole a pen from the bank shskskd )

so he is swimming around and sputtering ( if u can remember after kyle almost drowned in starks pond in 7th grade stan spent a very painful and stressful summer teaching kyle how to swim so he can swim now but he still has really bad ptsd ) like having a panic attack like i swear to god i will beat posideons ass i will fight this whole goddamn ocean where the fuck is my stanley marsh

who ofc! pheeeeew! pops up breathing hard and smiles radiantly at kyle who is like relieved and also about to strangle him shehshs Yay!

naturally stan says something stupid and very cute like “i did not know there were clown fish at this beach” or “excuse me sir but land is that way” HSJSJ and kyle is saying sooooo many swear words like people are covering their children’s ears he’s like HAHAHAVERYFUNNYBITCHITHOUGHTUFUCKKNGDIEDWHATTTHEFUCKISWRONGWITHU

stan is like omg omg calm down u are going to cause a tsunami! i am fine! or ok it was a little dicey there for a second because i went to dive for something and my foot got caught in this bed of kelp and stuff and i couldn’t get free for a second but thank god im a junior lifeguard right!

LIKE SHSKSKS STAN!!!!!! U ALMOST DIED CHILL NOT TO THE TIME TO FLEX ABT BEING A JUNIOR LIFEGUARD

kyle i feel shares my rage and stress and is like stan what the FUCK was so important on THE OCEAN FLOOR that u DOVE FOR IT and almost DIED!?!?!? also his hair looks so funny rn like it is Flat he is so mad that beach is a jacuzzi they are boiling bc of how pissed kyle is Im Crying

and stan is like oh!!!! well when i was surfing i saw this little piece of sea glass that was the exact shade of green ur eyes are so i wanted to grab it and give it to u <3 tada! do u like it

EVERYONE SAY GAAAAY AGAIN FUCKS SAKE

kyle receives the most beautiful piece of sea glass in the world from the most beautiful sea creature in the world and immediately is not angry at all and is more in love than he has ever been in his life which means he totally says “i fucking hate u”

stan speaks fluent kyle and says "i love u too" then it dawns on him that “oh my god did you swim all the way out here because u were worried abt me??? AW!!” and kyle is like "PFPTPFTPTPFPTT NOOONOOO SHITUP OHMYGODJK ACTUALLY U CAN DROWN UR SO anNoYIN—“

does not finish because stan kisses him on the cheek and is like “i was gonnnnna say that was really cute of u dummy"

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA !!!!!!

( stan calling kyle dumb is my favorite thing bc it’s not true and he’s the only person who can get away with it )

kyle is fully speechless and pale and also red and stan mistakes this for “oh my god ur shaking!!! u must be so cold and stressed oh my god did u check ur blood sugar??? ok im giving u an emergency piggy back ride to the ice cream shop buy whatever u want ky ur my hero”

beach episode starts to come to a close, kenny marj stan and kyle get ice cream laugh ( kyle totally gets the sea glass wire wrapped and wears it every day he is not even a jewlery king but its that serious for him ) they all vibe the sun sets over passed out sand sculpture cartman w the sand boobs….life is beautiful

the end <3 shsksks like and subscribe!

#WHOEVER SENT THIS THIS WAS SO ICONIC THANK YOU THIS IS MY MASTERPIECE #style #stan marsh #kyle broflovski #i am the ceo of the south park bl anime put me in that writers room matt and trey pls just one chance

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lluvguts · 3 years

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Picnic that is accidentally rained on// Stan & Bill

Please&thankyou 💕

certainly! ❤❤ hope you like it

---

note: they're aged up! 17!

Stanley surveyed the picturesque scene with more scrutiny than Bill had hoped for. The perfect spot for a picnic--one of the few grassy areas in Derry, untouched by the wet season--with the perfect setup: ratty old blanket Bill found in their attic, a few paperbacks he knew were Stan's favorite reads, lemon tea, pastries Bill had his mother prepare in plastic wrap so they wouldn't crumble. Even the goddamn placement of the assorted foods and drink were perfect, but Bill couldn't help but feel a certain something was missing. Bill's truck was only a few feet away, that had to be it. The eyesore. Or was it the lack of songbirds, to flit about their cliché little picnic? An orchestra in the background?

He turned to Stan, who ended his cursory stare with a warm smile that melted Bill to a pool of butter. It made the anxiety that tapped its quick fingers along his ribcage quiet down, too. It was something Bill had grown to love about him: Stanley knew just when to say the right thing, when to grin, when to kiss his lips so he'd stop stuttering.

"I k-k-know," Bill started, but stopped sentence at the warning signs of a stutter. No. It would not ruin this date, not today. Bill was certain of it. He had worked so hard on ending his evil stutter, he scheduled extra speech therapy sessions, even repeated the tried and true phrases that he knew would help until he heard them in his sleep.

Stanley looked at the grass before stepping closer to Bill, grabbing his hand. If he was to say something, it ended when Bill opened his mouth again to speak, his words coming out true and clear. More confident than perhaps he'd heard their whole childhood.

Bill shut his eyes to focus and spoke softer, gentler. "I know it's not much, but I t-thought it would be something you'd like."

Stanley gripped Bill's hand, glancing away briefly at his own embarrassed blush.

"This isn't one of your artfully worded scenes in your novel, is it Bill?" Stan asked while wiping his free hand across his hot cheeks.

Bill's heart resumed its excited drumbeat as he eased the two of them down onto Grandma Denbrough's patched quilt. Once Stan was comfortable Bill handed him one of the chipped cups and the thermos of tea. "Of c-course not. All Original Bill, just for y-you," He replied.

Stan snorted. "You're kinda sounding like Richie."

"Oh really, the T-Trashmouth, huh? 'hey Eds, let me call you names and pretend I'm not flirting with you. I've been in love with you since middle school but I'm too chicken to show it! My Own Get Off On a Good One! Yowza-YOWZA!' Oh oh, and something about E-Eddie's mom." Bill didn't stutter at any of Richie's parts, much to Stanley's liking, as he was in a laughing fit at Bill's gangly arms that swung across his sides and the imaginary glasses he adjusted on his nose.

"That was a pretty good impression. Maybe you do Voices better than he does," Stanley said on the end of his giggling, finally reaching out to unwrap a berry tart. Bill saw him eyeing it, but was too shy to take it first.

"These aren't half bad. I didn't know you could cook." Stan said around the bite in his mouth.

"George helped me make them. He a-added the sugar on top." Bill smiled to himself then looked out to the horizon, where a league of darkening clouds appeared, but to him seemed miles away from their picnic. Nothing was going to ruin their date.

"Books, too?" Stanley asked with feigned horror, placing a hand across his chest. He scooted closer to Bill and rested his chin on his shoulder. "You outdid yourself, Bill Denbrough."

Bill picked up one, the closest of the newly purchased paperbacks. "I c-can try to read to you."

"Okay, but that one might be a bit difficult," Stan said with a nervous glance at the cover. "And not because of the, uh, stutter. You're just gonna think it's dead boring."

"I'm sure I won't. Here, s-see?" Bill used one hand to pull Stan's side closer, and with the other he flipped the book to its front page. The other boy leaned in to see the words for himself as Bill peered at the lengthy first sentence. He wasn't sure why Stan liked this book, maybe it was just the love for reading he picked up from Mike.

Bill opened his mouth to read aloud, hoping the words would sound as perfect in his head as they did on the paper when a fat droplet of water splattered onto the page, soaking the ink in a dime-sized bullet. Bill looked up with surprise at the water falling around them, then back to the book, which was collecting more pellets of rain.

Oh, right. That was the problem. The weather forecast.

He tried not to look too upset as they packed their picnic up into Bill's backpack, the rain steadily growing. Stanley only laughed at the water, and ran a hand through his curly hair that was soon drenched in rain. Once they half-ran, mostly laughed, back to Bill's truck, he spoke up.

"Y-You're not m-m-mad about the rain, a-a-are you?" Bill was in the driver's side, and deposited their things in the back seat while Stanley found a spare blanket tucked under one of the seats before climbing in next to Bill in the driver's seat with it wrapped around his rain-covered shoulders. In some ways Bill was grateful Stan wasn't like Eddie, who at the first sight of storm clouds would go weak at the knees and rush home for his boots and three unnecessary coats. He lived, just a little.

Stan saved a few of the pastries before Bill zipped up his backpack. "Of course not. Why would I be mad? We can have our picnic in here, Bill...but after we warm up a bit first."

His heart was racing, and the anxiety made his words come out choppy and jumbled and anything but perfect. "I was w-w-worried you'd think the d-date was gonna suck n-now, but I'm su-su-sure we can s-s-stay in here till the weather c-c-calms down. Unless y-y-you want me tu-tu-to take you h-h-h-"

"Hey, it's alright." Stan took his hand again, and looked into his wary eyes. He smiled, reminding Bill to breathe. "You don't have to say anything, I'm happy right where I am."

Bill blushed as Stan set the food on the passenger's seat and slipped comfortably into Bill's lap, finding his favorite cuddle position: his legs carefully placed on either side of Bill, hands clasped against his chest, his mess of curls inches from Bill's nose as he nestled in. Bill slid his hands under the blanket to sit snug across Stanley's waist, and the other boy sighed.

"It's so peaceful with the rain."

He was right. The clouds ahead filled the sky in an off-white, everything that much brighter with the blank overhead canvas. Making the soft patter of rainfall against the windowpanes the perfect sound when the boy cuddled close in his lap was heating up his entire body with the warm puffs of air across his exposed neck as he breathed.

"Stan?" Bill whispered.

"Hmm?"

He bent down to murmur in Stanley's cold ear. "Maybe I-I'll add this to one of my b-b-books."

Stanley affectionately thwacked Bill's upper chest, and even if he was flustered he still put his lips to Bill's shirt collar, kissing his skin. Bill tensed, a little flustered himself. They weren't quite at the annoying, honeymoon stage of their relationship, as both Stan and Bill promised they'd never be the stereotypical high school sweethearts. And they definitely were not as lovey dovey as Ben and Beverly were--or for that matter, Richie and Eddie. Good lord, were those two joined at the hip. Hugging in public, practically drooling over each other, always finding a spare moment to make out. Bill wasn't fond of that, thank you very much. It was the tender moments together, without the spying eyes of the other Losers he cherished most.

"You're a hopeless romantic, Billy," Stanley said between another tentative kiss, his pink nose brushing Bill's neck.

Forget the Disney-worthy scene outside minutes before. Bill loved this. He loved hearing, feeling the rhythm of Stan's heartbeat, and the rain that tried its best to copy it. It didn't have to be perfect. But it was with Stan and that was really all that mattered to him.

#stenbrough #it 2017 #it fanfic #stanley uris #bill denbrough #fluff one shot #one shot #losers club #it movie #fluff #ask #how do i tag lol

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puckinghell · 4 years

Text

Mittens | Tyson Jost

Summary Requests: you never wear mittens so i knit you a pair and leave them for you to find as a gift from an anonymous person because i’m shy

and

your family ditches you for the holiday so i take you home with me, except my family thinks we’re dating now, and i don’t know how to tell them that we’re not Word Count: 3.8k Note: this is dedicated to @thesmutpeasant‘s knitting behaviour

---

When you finished your PR degree, you wouldn’t have said that working for a hockey team was your ultimate dream. You didn’t even know hockey. But working for the Avs has pretty much been the best time of your life, so far.

Where else could you spend an hour of your work day talking about Christmas gifts?

So far, the boys have decided that for Christmas, Gabe needs to get some hairspray, Z needs a new wardrobe, and Mikko needs a girlfriend.

“What about Tyson?” you ask JT. “Have you gotten him a present yet?”

JT laughs. “No, I haven’t, but I think someone should get him a blanket or something. He’s not good with the cold.” “Hey, fuck you!” Tyson yells from the other side of the room. “It’s freezing here, we can’t all be cold blooded like you!” JT huffs. “He says that, but he’s dressed like he lives in California or something. Never wears a hat, or gloves. And then he complains about the cold all the time. One night he even asked if he could have my duvet.” “That was in Winnipeg, and you know how cold Winnipeg is,” Tyson protests. “Besides, I asked you to cuddle me warm first, but you said no.” It’s teasing, and JT rolls his eyes, but you know Twitter is gonna explode at this. “Thanks boys,” you say, putting down the mic, and the cameras finally leave the room. “What do you want for Christmas, Y/N?” Tyson asks. Out of all the boys - although you would never admit it - you like Tyson the most. He’s always chatting with you when the cameras turn off, and he asks you things like he cares about the answer. You’ve become friends, in the past few months. He’s also really cute. You shrug. “Some sleep would be good,” you say, because it’s been a long road trip, and Tyson laughs. “Same.” --- The next morning Tyson brings you a cup of coffee to the plane. “How is she gonna sleep on the plane now?” Burky teases, and Tyson turns bright red. You make sure to take a picture of Burky from an unflattering angle in retaliation on Tyson’s behalf. Not that it necessarily makes Burky look any worse - that guy doesn’t have bad angles - but it’s the thought that counts. You sleep on the plane and keep yourself busy during the day, but when the evening rolls around, you sit in your quiet apartment and busy your hands as your mind winds down. Knitting may sounds like a grandma hobby, but it calms you down, thank you very much, and it means you’ve always got a personal gift for someone. For Christmas, your grandma has asked for a scarf, your mom wants a hat, and your aunt asked if you can knit a romper for your few months old niece. You have no idea how to do that, but surely you can figure it out. However, today, you don’t really feel like knitting any of those. Knitting those requests feels a little too much like work, right now, and you wanna knit just to knit. You don’t even realize you’re knitting mittens until you’re halfway through the first one. You don’t need mittens; you’ve got a good selection of them, a wide variety of colors. You remember your talk with JT and Tyson, yesterday. There’s someone who needs them. --- It’s weird, that’s something you’re sure of. To just give Tyson a Christmas gift, a handmade Christmas gift, and not have anything for the other guys. They would chirp you to hell and back and you’re not sure you’re ready for everyone to know about your teeny tiny crush on number 17. However, you can’t deny the fact that you knitted these mittens with only one person in mind, and it would feel weird to give them to anyone else. So, one morning, when Pepsi Center is still dark and there’s nobody around, you put them in Tyson’s stall without a note and decide to never think about it again. Which would be easier if you’re not the one having to do pregame interviews that day. “So, the Blues are obviously the reigning Stanley Cup champions...” - EJ pulls a face and you can’t help but agree - “how can you make sure you take the two points here tonight?” “Probably score some goals,” EJ says with a deadpan voice and a wide toothless grin, and you’re about to yell at him for being an awful person to interview when there’s a loud noise on the opposite side of the locker room. “Ah, sick!” The entire room turns to Tyson, who is beaming with excitement and looking at the mittens in his hands. “Someone got me gloves!” “Those aren’t gloves, those are mittens,” Cale says wisely. Tyson stares at him for a few seconds, then obviously decides to ignore him. “There’s no note,” he wonders out loud, and you really, really hope your blush isn’t too noticeable. EJ’s eyes are a little too fixed on your face. “Maybe it’s a secret admirer,” Mikko offers. “Maybe it’s someone who’s just as sick about you complaining about the cold as I am,” JT says. “Where are my mittens?” Z ponders. “You’re not getting any, you don’t deserve them,” says Nate, and Z goes to put him in a headlock. The boys start arguing about why they do or do not deserve mittens and EJ turns back to you. “So,” he says, “any more questions?” --- The boys win in OT and there’s excitement radiating through the locker room. You’re not doing the postgame; Lauren is, but you follow her around anyway, mostly because you love the locker room after a win. The happiness is contagious, and you find yourself smiling all evening. Most of the guys have gone home when Lauren packs up her final stuff. “What a game to end with before Christmas, huh?” she says, giving you a quick hug. “Merry Christmas, Y/N!” “You sure you don’t want to come?” JT’s voice is filled with enough worry that it catches your attention. You pretend to focus on packing your bag, the door slamming shut behind Lauren as she leaves. It’s just you, JT and Tyson, now. “Nah, man, it’s okay.” Tyson sounds a little down, which is not what you would’ve expected, after he scored to put them into OT earlier. “You’re with your girl, and I don’t wanna be a third wheel. I’ll be fine.” “But you can’t be alone on Christmas.” JT is clearly indignant.

You’re just standing up when Tyson gives JT a playful shove. “Go, Comph. Go have a fun Christmas. I’ll be chill here.” JT rolls his eyes but gives Tyson a quick bro hug. As he’s leaving the locker room, he sends you a smile, a “happy holidays” and then he’s gone. You turn to Tyson.

“You’re staying here for the holidays?” Tyson shrugs as he puts on his coat. It’s not nearly thick enough to be a winter coat, and he’s not wearing a scarf. He does however, take the mittens and put them on his hands. “My mom is on a cruise and Kacey is celebrating Christmas at her boyfriend’s house. Everyone is leaving me alone this year.” He’s trying to sound light, like he’s joking, but there’s a sharp edge in his voice that tells you it matters more to him than he’s willing to let on.

Something squeezes in your chest. Nobody should be alone on Christmas. “My family is coming to my apartment on Christmas Eve to have dinner, do you want to come?” You blurt it out before really thinking it through; it’s probably gonna be hard to explain to your parents, that you’re suddenly having a guy over for Christmas, and maybe Tyson will think it’s weird that you’re asking him: you just heard him tell JT no, so why would you think he wants to come hang out with you? But when you brave looking up at him, Tyson is smiling widely. “You sure?” he asks. “Is it not too much trouble? I can help you cook if you want. Or, you probably don’t want that, because I suck at cooking, but I can do whatever else you need me to do. I’d bring gifts for all your family, of course, and…” He’s rambling, and it’s cute. “Tys,” you interrupt him, and you can’t help how fond you sound. “They’ll love having you around. My dad is always saying it’s not fair, four girls and one guy, and my sister is bringing her girlfriend, so I could use a partner in crime, too.” “Okay, that’d be awesome,” Tyson says truthfully, “thanks so much, Y/N.” He smiles at you brightly and then puts on his mittens. “Dude, these are so warm, I love them.” You nearly promise to make him a hat and scarf too, but then you figure you might’ve exceeded your maximum amount of weird for the day by inviting him to Christmas dinner, so you quietly follow him out to the parking lot while he excitedly chatters about Christmas movies. --- It’s the morning of Christmas Eve and you’re this close to having a mental breakdown. Your house is a mess; you figured you didn’t need to clean it, your family has seen it all, but now Tyson is coming and you would like him to not think you’re the biggest slob in the world. Also, there’s the fact that an extra mouth to feed means more food necessary, so you have to go to the store and get more groceries. All in all it means that when your doorbell rings, you’re still wearing an old Avs hoodie and leggings, and you’re pretty sure there’s cookie dough in your hair because you decided you needed dessert after all. It’s not like Tyson gets to sin all the time. Christmas is as good an excuse as any. “Hey,” Tyson smiles. He’s looking annoyingly nice, wearing a grey jumper and dark blue slacks. As soon as he sees the state of you, he frowns. “What is that in your hair?” “Cookie dough,” you tell him honestly. “You look nice.” “Thanks,” Tyson grins proudly, “I Facetimed Kacey to pick out the colors.” He walks into your apartment like he’s been there a million times before, pushes a bottle of wine into your hands and starts unpacking the bag with presents he brought, putting them under the tree. “Am I early?” “A little,” you admit. “I, uhm, kinda still need to shower. You know, get the cookie dough out of my hair.” You think about it, for a few seconds, then decide that you can trust Tyson with this one thing. “Can you take the cookies out of the oven in 10 minutes so I can shower?” Tyson nods, throws you a thumbs up and then parks his butt on the couch like that’s where he belongs.

It makes you feel... things. And, well, you might take a little longer to get ready – putting a little more effort in your make up and hair than you would’ve if it had just been your family - but the last thing you expect when you come back in is for everything to be ready. Except it is. There’s candles lit on your coffee table and the presents are all under the tree. Your mom has a glass of wine in her hands and greets you with a “honey, there you are!” Your sister and her girlfriend aren’t there yet, but your dad is standing at the dining table with Tyson. The dining table is fully laid and Tyson has a half eaten cookie in his hand. “Sorry,” he grins, when he spots you. “They just looked too good not to touch.” You must’ve been staring at the scene a little sheepishly, cause your mom laughs. “You okay there, honey?”

“Uh yeah,” you bring out. “I see you met Tyson?” Your mom’s face instantly brightens. “Oh yes, we have, but if you want to do proper introductions…” For a split second, you panic, because you don’t actually know how to introduce Tyson – a friend? A coworker? You can’t really say an unreachable crush – but you’re saved by the door bell. “Y/N!” your sister says, giving you a quick sideways hug. “Amy and I brought some extra wine, in case you didn’t have enough booze and we have to listen to dad talk about baseball all evening while sober…” She stops dead in her tracks as soon as she sees Tyson. “Oh, hello.” “Thanks, Meg,” you mumble. “We uh, have enough, probably, cause Tyson brought some too.” Meg turns to you, wiggling her eyebrows. “A boy that brings wine? Keep him around, will ya.” You’re about to tell her to shut up, when your mom stands up. “Time for dinner!” --- It turns out Tyson fits in with your family right away, and you’re not even halfway through the night when you realize your catastrophically big mistake. Seeing him like this, as if he’s an integral part of your life already, does nothing to help your massive crush on him. Because Tyson is perfect. He talks sports with your dad and interior design with your mom – “My mom used to redecorate our place every year or so, you pick up some stuff” – and falls into a flawless routine of teasing you with Meg. He tops up glasses, passes the salt without being asked, and every now and then he sends you a smile that has your stomach turn in your body. It’s not until after dinner, when you’re standing in the kitchen with your mom, cleaning dishes, that you understand your mistake has been even bigger than you thought. “I’m so happy for you, sweetheart,” your mom coos. She’s looking at you with fond eyes. “I was worried, you know, that you never introduced us to a boy or girl. I don’t want you to be lonely here in Denver. But Tyson is such a lovely guy. You can tell he really loves you.” You can… what? “Oh, no, mom,” you stutter, “he’s not… He doesn’t…” “Oh, but he does,” she interrupts. “I see it in the way he looks at you, you know. When a person really loves someone, it’s in their eyes. And Tyson looks at you with love. You deserve someone who cares about you, babe, and I’m just so happy you’ve got someone here in Denver, when we’re so far away. I just don’t want you to be alone.” And, fuck, your mom clearly thinks you’re dating Tyson, and you realize you still haven’t introduced him properly to your family, of course they think you’re dating, who brings home a guy to Christmas for platonic reasons? You know you should tell her that you’re not dating, you know that, but she looks so genuinely happy, and you know if you tell her now it’ll break her heart. Quietly, you sneak a glance towards the living room. Your dad laughs at something Tyson says while Tyson ruffles through Meg’s hair. She swats at him, and Amy is smiling. Every single one of them would be upset to hear that Tyson is nothing more than a crush that’s way out of your league.

You know you have to tell them. But maybe just not tonight. Maybe, just for one Christmas, you can let them be happy. “Thanks, mom,” you force out a smile and your mom returns to the dishes. It’s not even a few seconds later that Tyson wanders into the kitchen. “Hey,” he smiles, “can I help?” He leans into you and puts a hand on the small of your back and your heart flutters and it’s innocent, sure it is, he’s just trying to be friendly, but your mom gives you a knowing look as she says: “Sure, you guys finish up here,” and demonstratively closes the kitchen door behind her, leaving the two of you alone. “Your family is awesome,” Tyson grins, as he starts to dry the dishes. “Meg tells me you guys go skiing every February. Me and Kacey usually try to go during bye week, Meg said maybe we can go together!” And something inside of you bursts. “My family thinks we’re dating.” Tyson frowns, puts the plate he was drying down. “Oh, really?” He doesn’t sound upset by the fact, simply curious, and you sigh. You’re gonna have to explain this one. “I guess I just didn’t really think to tell them who you are or like, what we are? And so they just saw that I invited a guy to Christmas and they assumed that we’re together. They absolutely love you, Tys, and they always worry so much about me having a boyfriend, and I just…” You pause; you know you’re turning red and it’s impossible to get out the words. “Hey, it’s okay,” Tyson says gently. He reaches out, his hand landing on your arm in a gesture of comfort. “You don’t have to tell them now. We can just… date.” He flushes. “Fake date, I mean. For tonight. Or, like, however long you need us to.” “Really?” you ask, relieved, and Tyson laughs. “Don’t sound so surprised. As if it’s such a hardship, to pretend to be your boyfriend.” He shoots you a wink, puts the final plate away and wanders back to the living room. Leaving you absolutely stunned, wondering what just happened. --- “Gifts!” Meg says, clasping her hands together. “The true meaning of Christmas!” Your mom gives her a disapproving look, but even your dad is eyeing the presents under the tree with a little too much interest. “I’ll go first,” Tyson says with shining eyes, “being the new one in the family, and all that.” “Ah, yay, it’s not me anymore,” Amy giggles, and you swear to God you are going to die. Somehow, despite not knowing your family, Tyson nailed his gifts. Your dad is over the moon with his new slippers, your mom keeps sniffing the scented candle he gives her, and Meg smacks Tyson across the head with the Avalanche beanie he got her, until she notices there’s two tickets to a musical that Amy has been wanting to see in there.

You’re a little jealous, because you love gifts like that, until Tyson hands you an envelope. “I heard you tell Gravy how much you like them,” he says, and he sounds a little off. Nervous, even. “And if you need a plus one…” He wiggles his eyebrows and laughs, but even his giggle comes out a little nervous. In the envelope is two tickets to your favorite band, who are playing in Denver next month. You didn’t end up getting tickets cause they were sold out stupidly quickly and were ridiculously expensive in resale. “Oh my God, Tys, that’s way too much,” you tell him in awe, but Tyson just shrugs. “No use for an NHL salary if you can’t spend it on the people you care about.” It sounds weirdly genuine, a deeper level of something ringing through, but it’s way too much to unpack right now. You feel a little stupid about your gift for him, now – a nice wallet cause his old one looks like it’s been through a lot – although Tyson seems really happy with it, even gives you a hug to say thank you. For the rest of your family, you’ve got a normal gift and something knitted, as extra, and it’s not until you catch sight of the deep frown on Tyson’s face that you realize something. Fuck. You forgot about the fucking mittens. “Isn’t it cute, Tyson?” your mom says, as she wraps the scarf you made her around her neck. “She always knits people gifts. I swear it’s her way of saying how much she loves them. She spends so much time on these.” She pauses. “I mean, you’ve probably been with her while she makes them, you know.” “Yeah,” says Tyson, slowly, although you know he has no clue. After that, it’s like you can’t even really enjoy the rest of the night; you can’t focus on the Christmas movie Meg puts on, can’t focus on how cute it is when she cuddles up with Amy, can’t focus on how fondly your mom is smiling down at you or your dad’s soft snores as he falls asleep halfway through. You can focus on Tyson’s thigh pressed against yours, and how you have no idea how to explain to him why you knitted him those mittens. Finally, your mom stands up, gently kicks your dad’s legs, and smiles at you. “I think it’s time for us to go,” she says. “I’m sure you two wants to enjoy some part of Christmas Eve in privacy, too.” “Mom,” you scold her, feeling your cheeks heat up. Tyson grins at you. By the door, as your mom gives you a hug, she whispers: “He’s a keeper, honey,” and you nearly tell her everything. “Yeah, he’s alright,” Meg says way too loudly, and you hear Tyson giggle in the background and you decide to shut up. The door closes behind them and immediately, Tyson stretches out on the couch. “Ah,” he says. “I’m pretty good at impressing the in laws, no?” You don’t remind him that they’re not actually his in laws. Instead, you fall back onto the couch and groan. “Are you not gonna make fun of me for knitting you mittens and leaving them anonymously in your stall?” you ask, because you might as well get over it. Tyson frowns. “Why would I do that? Those mittens rock, my hands haven’t been cold since.” You blush. “Yeah, but, don’t you think it’s weird that I made those? I didn’t make any for the rest of the team.” For a second, he seems to think about that. Then he moves a little closer, his hand coming to rest on your thigh. Electricity zips through your veins at the contact. “I kinda hoped that meant something,” Tyson says slowly. “Tell me if I’m wrong?” You only had two glasses of wine but you feel like your world is spinning as Tyson moves closer tauntingly slowly. Finally, his lips touch yours, and you understand every cliché ever written into any romantic Christmas movie. When his hand moves to your thigh, settles on the skin right below the hem of your dress, you yelp.

“How are your hands still cold?”

Tyson chuckles. “I mean, I haven’t been wearing my mittens, so...”

---

Years later, you’re laying on the couch with your daughter, watching a Christmas movie after having just set up the tree.

“Daddy, what was your favorite Christmas present Santa ever gave you?” your daughter asks.

Tyson sends you a private look above her head, then focuses on her.

“A pair of hand knitted mittens.”

“Like the one mommy made me?” she asks, and he grins.

“Yeah, kinda like that.”

#tyson jost #winter prompts but longer #colorado avalanche #nhl imagine

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billdenbrough · 4 years

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stan’s nineteen when he first thinks to himself that he might want to kiss a guy. it’s not the first time he kisses one (fifteen, richie tozier, all nervous energy and unwieldy glasses knocking against noses and a best friend who’s desperate to be Good at kissing and wants to practice on someone he trusts, someone who he knows would never use it against him, and stanley will be that for richie until the day he dies) but it’s the first time that he wants to for himself.

his name is mike hanlon, he’s best friends with stan’s dormmate eddie, and rooms with both richie and eddie’s other best friend, bill. he also talks about emily dickinson when he’s high, brings bev coffee to their social theory classes, and helped richie steal a goat when they were both drunk and neither of them died. stan looks at his fingers—calloused and thick and strong, steadily drumming against his thigh as he thinks, nails uneven from being bitten—and imagines what they’d look like twined with his.

stan’s twenty when he thinks to himself he might want to kiss patty blum. she’s sweet, a little shy, and the way her eyes light up when she talks about translated poetry makes stan want to reach out and tuck her hair behind her ear. so he does. and she blushes, and it’s the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

he doesn’t ask for her number that night, but she and richie turn out to be in the same poetry class (about the beats; they disagree on the work—richie is fascinated by the techniques and phraseologies they invent, patty is a bit too aware of what misogyny sounds like in the mouths of men convinced of their own aptitude to ignore it—but agree that while the beats kinda went Off in anti-war sentiment, they were by and large Awful People) and stan sees her again in a coffee shop with richie after class one day. this time, after speaking for another six hours, stan does ask for her number. she bites her lip, glances down, smiles. holds her hand out for his phone. stan looks at her fingers as they skitter across his screen, tapping in her number—they’re soft and rounded, moving quickly and precisely, lavender nail polish chipped. he doesn’t have to imagine what her fingers would look like intertwined with his. he finds out three nights later.

bill and richie throw a party in their dorm (it’s mike’s dorm too, but best as stan can tell, he mostly just let them do it in trade off for not having to clean it up the next day. somehow, stan thinks he’ll still end up helping clean. bill and richie are many excellent things, but competent with cleanliness is not one of them) and stan invites patty. he feels warm watching richie light up when he spots them, barrelling over and completely ignoring stan to spin patty in a delighted hug. he can’t help his grin when eddie and ben pop up, polite and welcoming and engaging. what he’s not prepared for, however, is the feeling that blossoms in his chest when patty and mike start talking. mike’s an english major, and possibly the best person in the world, and patty’s also an english major, and also possibly the best person in the world, so stan’s not surprised they get along. he’s just startled at how much it feels like having the wind knocked out of him. how breathless he feels.

he and patty aren’t dating, exactly. or, they are, but it’s early days. stan thinks she makes everything better, though. like the world is brighter with her laughter in it. so it’s not doing anything wrong to feel his heartbeat quicken sometimes when he feels mike’s eyes on his, to have a rare slow smile spread across his face when it’s two am and mike is talking sleepily to him, but it’s not exactly ideal, either. and stan’s not entirely sure what to do. he likes to think he’s well-equipped for life—an entire childhood with richie tozier will do that to you—but nothing has prepared him for this.

to make matters worse—or maybe better? stan’s never sure whether that tightness in his chest is panic or want or something in between—mike and patty keep hanging out. sometimes with stan, sometimes with richie or bev, but sometimes just by themselves. which obviously is fine. it’s just another thing for stan to have to try contend with.

he and mike kiss at a party, and it’s just a game, just truth or dare, and patty’s not playing—she’s sitting in the kitchen with eddie, the two of them carefully guarding their cups from the hot sauce richie is pouring into unsuspecting party-goers’ drinks, trading quiet observations and making each other giggle—but she doesn’t care that stan is, so that’s not what’s weighing on his mind, exactly. it’s the way his stomach swooped. the way his chest warmed. the way all he could think of was what it would be like to do that again, just for themselves, fingers entwined.

he stumbles away, and he probably looks drunk, but he’s not. he’s simply dealing with feelings that don’t make sense with the world he’s built for himself. so. like he always does when he’s not sure what to do, he finds richie.

richie has stopped pouring hot sauce into people’s drinks by now—why he was doing that, stan has no idea—so stan tugs him by the sleeve into a spare bedroom. “kinky,” richie starts, laughing, before catching sight of stan’s expression, and sobering up immediately. “all right,” he says, “lay it on me”

it all sort of tumbles out, mostly a mess of frustrated gesturing and alternating between heart eyes when talking about mike and patty & his voice cracking when he tries to explain the confusion. richie listens, brow furrowed, eyes intent. whatever anyone says about richie—and stan might say it himself, but there’s nobody he wouldn’t fight for richie, nobody he wouldn’t defend his best friend from—he cares, listens, tries.

“so you don’t like either of them better than the other...” richie muses, and stan hadn’t really thought of it in those terms, but that’s it, that’s true, that’s the crux of it. he could make a pros & cons list for both if he tried, but there’d be no point: the only thing on either con list would be the way he feels about the other. “have you considered that you like both?” richie asks, and stan. blinks

“that’s the problem, rich,” he says, and richie gives him a Look. “i mean,” richie says. “is it?” and stan doesn’t exactly know what to do with that. which richie clearly can tell, because he barrels on, “look, i’m just saying... you’re allowed to like both. especially if both like you. and... i know you better than either of them, but like, maybe they like each other too?” and it’s just. a lot. for stan to try unravel, but he thinks richie’s saying... it might not be either/or, and feeling like someone’s missing for the rest of his days. he thinks richie’s saying it could be and.

“like... a trio?” stan ventures, and richie clicks his tongue. “call it whatever the fuck you want, my dude. polyamory. ménage a trois. personally, i fuck with throuple.” (stan, in some part of his mind that is not currently trying to process everything else richie is making him aware of right now, decides immediately that he will never say throuple.)

they sit and talk for another ten minutes, and then bev pops up to say bill’s challenging richie to karaoke, and stan sends him off. he stays, sitting, thinking. dreaming. imagining what it would be like, patty’s hand in one of his, mike’s in the other. their other hands entwined too. his chest hurts. he thinks maybe it’s from sheer wanting.

patty finds him not that long after. she sits beside him, cocks a quizzical brow, half smile playing at her lips. “you disappeared,” she notes. stan looks at her, in her knit cardigan and pleated skirt at a house party, and thinks maybe he’s in love with her. it makes the next words both utterly terrifying and as easy as breathing. “do you like mike?” he asks. patty blinks at him, mouth dropping open slightly. “i like you,” she says after a moment, sounding confused, but also... maybe slightly panicked. or guilty? stan doesn’t know how to decipher that note, but it bolsters him. “i know,” he says softly, and it’s true. he does. he cares a lot about her, and he knows she cares about him, otherwise he’d never try ask her this. “i meant... as well.” he can’t believe he’s saying this. the power of richie tozier.

she just blinks at him, something complicated passing across her face. “do... you?” she asks, so hesitant that stan feels it scrape slowly across his heart, just like mike’s teeth did across his lips earlier, and, wow, he didn’t need that reminder. “i—” he starts, and she suddenly holds up her hand. “i think maybe mike should be here,” she says, and stan is freaking out a little, but she’s right, so he nods, and she just pulls out her phone and... does she have him on speed dial? who even uses speed dial?

mike comes up, glances in and steps into the room, looking shy and a little confused. “hey,” he says, “patty said you need to talk to me? what’s up?” stan’s heart is beating faster, but something about it feels. solid. steady, even. like all ground was invented simply to exist between the three of them, a meeting of the hearts and minds.

“stanley asked me an interesting question,” patty says at the same time that stan blurts out, “i think a lot about your hands.” mike blinks, patty throws stan a scandalised look before bursting into peals of laughter, and stan groans at himself. “i don’t know if i understand what’s happening here,” mike says. polyamory negotiations, stan thinks, but he’s not saying that out loud until at least three years after this is all dealt with.

“i’ve been having a crisis up here for two hours,” he says in the end, deciding to bite the bullet. if richie ever calls him a pussy again when stan’s had this conversation and richie can’t even ask out eddie despite having made a very embarrassing and frankly bizarre playlist about him, stan’s pushing him into a fountain. “because i keep thinking about you kissing me, but also patty kissing me, and also both of your hands, and it’s just a lot, and richie kept saying words, some of which i truly believe he made up, like what the fuck is a throuple—” and, hm. he did not mean for all of that to come out. eddie’s the motormouth and richie’s the trashmouth. stan’s mouth is meant to obey him. outrageous.

mike’s open-mouthed, and then he turns to stare at patty, who stares back at him. stan can’t decide if this is more or less nerve-wracking than them staring at him. but then their eyes are shifting. it looks like there’s a question in mike’s. stan wonders if he can find an answer in patty’s, the way stan always does. from the way mike’s eyes shine when he turns back to stan, he thinks yes. there’s an expression on his face, open and hopeful and earnest, and it’s so fucking beautiful that stan just... wants to kiss him again. and he’s resisted doing it for so long. literally over a year. and it’s hard, so hard, especially when mike looks like that, when he looks at stan like that, and stan’s tired. so this time, he doesn’t resist. he leans forward, and presses his lips to mike’s.

when he pulls away, mike’s smile is blinding. so is patty’s, for that matter. stan blinks at her, unsure if he should apologise, when she leans forward and kisses him. then, with a flush high in her cheeks, she glances at mike, and gently presses a kiss to the side of his mouth as well. it twists in stan’s chest, and this time he knows it for what it is: explosive, unrestrained happiness and want. like maybe this is what it feels like to see the rest of your life in front of you. to see everything you never even knew you wanted.

stan doesn’t have to imagine what it would be like to entwine his fingers with mike’s anymore, what it would be like to have patty hand-in-hand on his other side. it’s better than he’d ever dreamed, anyway.

#mike hanlon #stan uris #stanley uris #patty blum #patricia blum #stanpatlon #stanlonpat #what’s my fucking tag #x #m #jane writes sometimes #i guess?? idk y’all i’m just in my mike and patty feelings tonight. ig this counts as writing #stan #patty #mike #murryn i hope u see this idk if this is up ur alley but i started thinking abt it bc of our convo on the other post replies #long post //#i’m mobile so idk how long it is but i. assume it’s not short. bc like. me #is the implication here that this exists in the same verse as songs for the art of beating the meat? perhaps

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menshusband · 3 years

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\\ this is a bit long. skip to the end if you do not want to read it all!

i love Cloudy because with him i would be free to keep a straight face, which others consider “unhappy”, and because i relate to him.

i love Joker because he thinks that what happened to him will happen to anyone who does not smile. not that he cares about others, but since i am in his life, he does anything possible to make me smile without a knife.

i love Bane because he knows what sufferance is, and has a kind heart, thus he would do anything to protect me.

i love Arthur because he is mature and serious, but has an awesome humour at the right moment, always. he would help me focus when there is need to, and laugh when i am down.

i love Benji because he is a technology genius. because he plays videogames and chews a gum during work, yet he is responsible. he is a bit nervous, but i do not blame him considering his job. he would try to keep me out of his work business, “it is too dangerous. i cannot tell you. and then itʼs top secret!11!!” ...but he would give up either to my puppy eyes or my stubbornness. he is definitely a bit underrated, too.

i love Chuck because he is fast. i am a pretty slow person, and i get called out quite a lot because of it. but he would tell me that it is alright, and he would take me on his back and show me what it is like to go that fast. if i liked it, he would help me become faster; if not, he would just let me have some rides every now and then. ... and then he is a dork.

i love Fred because he would make me laugh at any time of the day, in any way possible. he would have success 9/10 times. that one time i would not stop crying, he would just hold me and tell me comfort words, and tell George to shut up.

i love Hermes because he is really caring, friendly, chilled out, always has the right words, and he is fast. he would help me trip on my own tongue less, and would slow down his talking when he sees i am not getting much. he would give me a ride flying at an insane speed, just to be very unfunny because he knows i do not like heights. but he knew that i would like it and that would help me overcome my fear.

i love L because he is a very smart boy. he would help me stop lying completely, even for the small things. not that i usually lie - i actually hate lying - but i do not always tell the whole truth.

i love Lumière because he is romantic. i am not really much, so he would just be the nicest man on earth and offer me to dance, take me to beautiful places in Paris and to stargazing at night. and then he would also teach me french.

i love Marshall Mellow because, although he is shy, this never ever stops him from bringing to an end all of his orders, or anything he starts at all, whatever it takes. he would protect me in any way possible and take care of me.

i love Peter because he is fragile. because he needs to be taken care of, and i want to. i want to help him. because he has a trauma, and it will take him time to overcome it. and i want to be by his side all the way through it. i want to be his comfort anchor for when he wakes up from a nightmare, and he looks for something real to cling on in his bed. i want to help him understand it was not his fault, any of it, and that the spirits are finally gone. that he is safe, with me.

i love Sherlock because he is not an easy one. he has his very own way to think, to act, and i love it. i would do anything he would ask me to, and he would teach me all the things he knows - which are a lot. when he would catch a criminal and we would be home, he would feel guilty not to thank me for my help - even if small; and despite his bad skills in showing affection, he would call me and gimme a kiss on my forehead to thank me.

i love Stanley because he has been through a lot. kind of same story as Peter, but Stan is a bit stronger. i want to help him understand that he is safe now, that IT is gone, and will never come back. that none of that was his fault, and that his life still has got much for him.

i love Timon because he tries his best. he is a free spirit, yet he tries to adapt to his herd lifestyle. he tries to explain kindly why he thinks that he is not where he wants to be, and he always tries to fix his mistakes; yet everyone always sees him under a bad light. i relate to him in a way.

i love tin man because he is kind hearted and extremely caring. he is sensitive and, although he might not be the bravest, he never steps back when it comes to help someone.

i love Tulio because he is realistic. he is rational and always looks for a possible way out of things. he would help me solve my problems and teach me how to be down to earth and think quicker. he is very lucid, and despite how much he is attached to gold, he is always able to listen to his “little voice inside his head” and do the right thing. he is not insensitive.

i love Tschakko because he is brave. he is pretty smart in his own way, and protective as well. he is respectful towards women and always ready to attack someone or use dynamite, even when unnecessary. he would probably try to soften and not to yell as much as he could when i am around, knowing it startles me, but still would give me - kinder - orders to help me not to be too lazy.

i love Marvin because he is literally crazy. he is also really precise. he would definitely teach me how to use a gun and, as opposed to Benji, he would have no problem involving me in whatever his friends and he get caught into. does not mean he does not care about me– as soon as i get hurt, he will go insane and.. yeah.

i love Mickey because he!! is!! my!! childhood!!

i love Miguel because he has a big heart. he is a very human person, and a dreamer, which i really admire; not many people are able to. i love his way of thinking and how he stands for justice always, no matter what.

i love Ryuk because... because?? this is pretty hard to answer lol. he is funny, and.. a shinigami. i know he cares about me and would definitely have a crush on me at some point, but i frankly do not know how far he would go to defend me. but, i do know that he would be interested in anything i do during the day, both as human and as me myself, and would want to know what i want to do with the Death Note.

i love scarecrow because he is damn smart. that is it.

i appreciate Bobo because he is an adorable dork!! he might get annoying sometimes, but i would love to take care of him and patiently explain him everything. ... however, cannot deny that seeing him getting slapped upside the head by Tschakko or Cloudy would crack me up a LOT.

i appreciate Cooky because he cares about the others health!!! he always cooks healthy meals for them and does not want them to skip a meal. he is also a bit smarter than the others, sooo, a tiny bit less irritating..? lmao.

i appreciate Ralphy because he is so neat!!! Sunny is right, he is very nice!! his attempts to be a dwarf in the beginning were so adorable! i am glad his dreams came true and that he got to be a dwarf!!!

i appreciate Speedy because he is hilarious. despite he is a bit slow, i cannot say word to it, because i myself am! and then, he tries his best to stay behind others and help, which is nice.

i appreciate Sunny because he is solar, and always tries to light up everyoneʼs day. he always sees the bright side of everything, which i am.. almost never able to, so he would definitely help me a lot with that.

i appreciate CASE because IT IS SO ADORABLY SMART AND GREAT

i appreciate TARS because IT IS SO ADORABLY FUNNY AND BRAVE

i appreciate the Cheshire Cat because. he is a damn fluff ball, i would love to hug him all day. he is the cutest and obnoxiously clever.

i appreciate Gumball because he is just ridiculous, in a loving way!! he is the best when it comes to dumbassary and thus make me laugh. i am happy i consider him my brother :)

i appreciate Darwin because he is a bit more rational and sensitive, and without him, Gumball would probably be dead a long time ago. although sometimes they might keep me out of their “boys business”, i love seeing them sharing their unique bond.

i appreciate B. B. because he.. alright, give me a second. i ran out of words lmao. i appreciate the fact that he is vegetarian! and i love the brother bond he has with Cyborg. i am glad to think they would involve me in their nerdy projects. also, he would totally let me have a ride on whichever animal i would like hehe.

i appreciate Raven because she is so cool!!! i always wanted her to be my sister. i have always admired her rationality and intelligence. and then!! she is daughter of a demon!! she has super cool powers!! WHAT!!!

i appreciate Cyborg because he is neat!! he would let me watch him fix or create any technology piece he comes up with, and try to include me as much as he can in any project or event that is up!

i appreciate Robin because he tries his best to be a good leader for everyone. he tries to be responsible and focus on saving the city when the others do not! he is not very patient as a leader, but i cannot blame him. i myself am a bit too irascible at times.

i appreciate Starfire because, despite she might look a bit dumb, she is just a nice, pretty princess. she is sensitive and cares a lot about the others, and enjoys living on earth, which i am glad of! she has made enormous progresses since when she came here, considering she was already a teen when she arrived. and then, she has super cool powers too!!!

of course there are many more reasons why i like my f/os, but letʼs just say these are the “mains”.

i have made this long, long post not only because i wanted to give at least a reason per f/o, but also because i wanted to give you all a help. this is a good exercise for you and your f/os both, especially when you feel like you are not very close to them. try to say why you love them, or why you have fallen for them first, and try to include something they would do for/with you. this can help!

#f/o #f/os #romantic f/o #platonic f/o #familial f/o

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holidaywishes · 4 years

Text

Can’t Keep It a Secret Forever

Requested: 👍

Summary/Request: hey! can you write an imagine where the reader is dating nick robertson for like a year and a half but the relationship is still a secret and the reader is a senior in high school maybe in atlanta or somewhere in the usa and their graduation is coming up and he surprises her there and some of her classmates take pictures of them and their relationship becomes public via the media the next day. then nick like posts a couple pictures of them confirming the relationship. thank you so much!!!

Warning: Fluff but that’s it?

Author’s Note: First, this is super short, not my favourite writing and a little different than the request but it’s kind of cute, so I’m not mad at it. Second, Look at that face! He’s adorable! However, he’s also a child (baby boy was born on September 11, 2001. So, that’s rough) and I’m almost 10 years older than he is so, therefore, I will not be writing smut for him. I’m sorry, I just can’t do it. If you request smut for him, I will have to pass. Anyway! I’m happy to write some fluffy stuff and I hope you enjoy this short little request!

*EDIT* I’M SO SORRY GUYS! I realize now that the orginal GIF was not actually Nick Robertson so I’ve changed it. I was hoping to find a GIF of him not on the ice and in an interview so you could see his face but, alas, I couldn’t find one.

masterlist

the other masterlist

Nick and you had met as Juniors in high school, before he was drafted to the Maple Leafs. He was a shy guy, a little goofy, but sweet. You were part of the drama club to which your friends teased you endlessly about by saying you could never get enough drama in your life so you had to join a club for it, you’d laugh and shrug them off. But Nick never teased you, even if it was just for play. A year later, you had developed feelings for him, started a relationship with him and were basking in a state of teenage bliss but when the Toronto Maple Leafs came calling, he wanted to keep the relationship a secret.

“You’re going to Toronto. You’re going to be almost 3,000 miles away from me but you don’t want us to be public?!” you yelled as he sighed in front of you, “I don’t understand! Why?!”

“I just think it will easier. Just for a little bit, okay?” he answered

“Easier? Easier for you. Nick, we’ve only been dating for like six months. I don’t want our relationship to fail before we have a chance to even really have one!”

“It won’t!” he exclaimed, standing up suddenly to put his hands on your shoulders, “it won’t, baby. You just have to trust me. It won’t be for long.” He pulled you in for a hug and you hesitated for a moment before falling into him, letting go of a sigh you had been holding in. You went to the airport a couple weeks later to send him off with his parents who said they’d be meeting him in a couple days and you felt a sudden rush of sadness as you hugged him goodbye.

“I don’t want you to go...” you whispered while he squeezed you tighter

“I know,” he replied, kissing your cheek, “but I’ll see you soon okay?” He smiled at you before walking past the gate and toward security and his parents tapped you on the shoulder to lead you out of the airport. You went back to school and he went into Boot Camps and training with the team and you only ever saw him when he came back in the summer; even then, he’d try to spend as much time with his friends and keep you hidden away.

“Nick this is exhausting,” you said when you finally got a moment alone with him, the two of you looking up at the stars as you sat on a blanket on the beach and listened to the waves crash onto the shore, “I want to be with you. I hate hiding us, I hate not being able to tell people where I’m going in case you told people where you were going. It’s been almost a year since you left and you said that this whole secret thing was only going to be for a little while. It’s been more than a little while...”

“I have a chance at starting this year,” he replied, “Coach says I’ve really been improving.”

“Babe, the season is already well underway. If you were going to start, you’d have started already.” He scoffed at your words and you smiled timidly at him, raising your eyebrows in defence

“I could be put on a different line, a starting line. Isn’t that exciting?”

“Why can’t we just tell people we’re dating?” you asked and he sighed

“What happens if we tell people we’re dating and everyone makes comments about you? Start saying that you’re only dating me because I’m in the NHL?”

“Then we’ll make it very obvious that we started dating before all of that” you argued

“And if they don’t believe it?”

“Then who cares?!” you pushed, “It’s our relationship, not theirs.”

“I just think we have to play it safe.”

“What about my graduation?”

“What about it?”

“Are you going to be there?”

“I don’t know my schedule babe...”

“I don’t graduate for like eight months.”

“I will be there”

“Will we be public by then?”

“Maybe,” he said, “I don’t know. Let’s not worry about that right now. Look at how beautiful this night is. The cool, California breeze just drifting across us. The sound of the waves and a clear sky. It’s perfect.”

“Mhm...” you hummed and he laughed, kissing your temple before turning back to look up at the stars.

Nick’s P.O.V.

You had finished your training camp with the Leafs and Keefe said he was really impressed with you. It was looking like you would have a real chance at starting a regular season game, when the statement came out:

"In light of ongoing developments resulting from the coronavirus, and after consulting with medical experts and convening a conference call of the Board of Governors, the National Hockey League is announcing today that it will pause the 2019-20 season beginning with tonight's games. We will continue to monitor all the appropriate medical advice, and we will encourage our players and other members of the NHL community to take all reasonable precautions -- including by self-quarantine, where appropriate. Our goal is to resume play as soon as it is appropriate and prudent, so that we will be able to complete the season and award the Stanley Cup. Until then, we thank NHL fans for your patience and hope you stay healthy.”

It hit you like a glass door that you didn’t see and you weren’t sure how to feel. The only thing you could do was what everyone else was doing: self-isolate back home. On one hand, you were happy that you’d be able to spend time with your family and with (Y/N) but on the other hand, you hated that the season was cut short. When you landed in Arcadia, your first stop was to see your girlfriend to see how she was doing

“Nick?” she said when she opened the door, shock covering her face, “what are you doing here?”

“The season’s been postponed...” you answered

“Right.. yeah, no. I heard that. I just meant here, here.”

“I wanted to see you. I know this is your Senior year and I know how much it must suck to not have your Prom and the graduation ceremony...”

“Yeah,” she said, stepping out of her house, “it’s a weird feeling to know that I won’t be going back to school on Monday or that all the work that I was preparing to do for SATs won’t really matter in a couple months.” You hugged her tightly when her head dropped

“I’m sorry” was all you could muster but when she stepped back

“I’m glad you’re here... but I’m confused...” she said, “we’re still not public...”

“I know...” you replied, “but I wanted to spend time with you.” She smiled before inviting you inside. By the time her prom came around, you had set up the most cliché Prom theme you could think of; starry night. You covered the ceiling in glow in the dark stars, ordered card stock stars from Party City to hang from the ceiling, grabbed a few Christmas decorations from your parents garage that gave that “romantic” vibe that you were looking for and led a blind-folded (Y/N) into the room as “The Starry Night” by Dylan Saunders played. You marvelled at her in her dress before you took the blindfold off so she could look at the room in front of her.

“Oh my god! Nicky...” she gasped, looking at all the details you’d put into the room, “this is amazing. How.. when did you do all this?”

“I had some help from your parents” you laughed

“Does anyone else know about this?” she asked hesitantly and you frowned before giving your response

“No”

“Oh...” she sighed

“This is just for us.” You tried, taking her hand and leading her into the middle of the room to dance. She rested her head on your shoulder as the two of you swayed to the slow songs that shuffled on the Prom playlist you’d created. You took a few pictures of her, her parents took a few pictures of the two of you, she danced with her dad, you danced with her mom, her parents captured pictures of it all, it was a sweet night but you knew that not being able to share them with her friends or on her social media was upsetting her so you tried to think of the best time to really go public.

It was time to graduate. It didn’t feel like it was because your Principal had arranged for each of you to stand outside your houses while he rode by in his car and handed you your diplomas. But you still made it. You still graduated. Technically.

“This is so weird. I was so looking forward to walking across the stage,” you sighed just as Nick walked through the door, “leaving this place behind and moving on with my life. But now it’s going to feel like I graduated on a technicality.”

“Hey!” Nick shouted, forcing you to turn your body and the tassel on your cap to swing into your face, “don’t think like that! You’re brilliant. Your graduation may suck but you’re not graduating on a technicality. You worked hard for this.”

“It’s just high school, Nicky...”

“But he’s right, sweetheart,” your dad added, “you worked hard for this. You put in the effort and the time. This is not a technicality. Not even one little bit.” Nick smiled at how your dad agreed with him and you rolled your eyes at both of them.

“Come here,” your mom directed, “everyone cuddle close for a picture.” You all did as she asked and you were surprised when Nick leaned in and kissed you on the cheek for the picture, “Alright, I think it’s time. You should get outside, (Y/N)”

“Okay... I’m on my way...” you sighed, “to get my diploma... To graduate...”

“Good luck!” your dad teased as you opened the door to walk outside, causing you to stick your tongue out at him. You were joined shortly by all of them, with your mom constantly taking pictures and Nick going live shortly before your Principal showed up with what looked like a camcorder strapped to the top of his car.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N)!” He yelled from his car and you laughed at the absurdity of this situation, “come grab your diploma!” You jogged lightly to the car, your heels clicking against the concrete and you grabbed your diploma, “Congratulations!” Your Principal said before whispering his apologies for the scenario

“Thank you,” you replied, “it’s... memorable.” You laughed and he waved goodbye as you made your way up your driveway with your mom taking pictures and Nick still live, “guys, stop!”

“We need records of this wondrous occasion” your mom joked and Nick rushed up to you, all smiles

“YOU’VE DONE IT!” he shouted, making sure the camera could see the two of you together, before beginning an interview process, “you’ve graduated high school. How do you feel?”

“The exact same.” you said plainly, a small smile on your face when you realized Nick hadn’t taken his arm back from around your shoulders

“What are your plans now?!” he asked

“I don’t know. I haven’t.. really thought about it”

“Well...” he started, “what about your boyfriend? Are you going to celebrate with him?”

“Nick, what are you doing?”

“We can’t keep it a secret forever, can we?”

“No.. are you sure?” He smiled as his eyes danced across your face before he kissed you gently

“Of course I’m sure. I love you.” He said, cutting his live video there, kissing you more purposefully this time and you finally felt like you could breathe. You were finally allowed to spam your friends feeds with pictures of you and Nick, flooding your social media accounts with videos and posts and stories with the two of you; you were never happier than that. Being able to share your love for him with the people in your world was a wild feeling and one you would never give up for anything.

#Nick Robertson #Nick Robertson imagine #it's like...#kinda cute #but also kinda all over the place

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yikestripes · 4 years

Text

Same old

A/N: Here you go anon!!! I hope you enjoy!!!!

Pairing: Bill x Reader

Request: May I request a fic with Bill Denbrough x reader that has Bill saving the reader from her worst fear that Pennywise is putting her through? (which can be something related to bullying or some sort of phobia). And I do think it’s more fitting as adults considering what happened in the second movie, but it’s also fine if they’re written younger—

(Y/D/J) = Your dream job

You swallowed hard, pulling up outside of the Chinese restaurant Mike had picked. You weren’t particularly prepared for the potential horrors waiting for you inside; you felt anxious as hell, being reunited with the people you’d called friends your entire childhood with barely any recollection of their names or virtually anything about them. As a matter of fact, you hardly remembered anything Mike had brought up during your brief phone call the night before about your childhood. You never had any reason to bring it up in conversation, or think about it for any other reason, so why would you remember? But then again, how could you forget? Isn’t that someone everyone does, forget? Especially when they grow up and move away? Apparently not.

You shook away the negative thoughts that swirled around your aching brain, and got out of your car as another car pulled into the parking lot. You paid no mind to the other car, too distracted by the restaurant looming overhead and what awaited you inside, when someone calling you from behind brought you back.

“(Y/N)?” You turned at the sound of your name being called by a distinctly deep, male voice, and were met with a man around your age squinting at you behind his glasses, seemingly confused. You stared for a second before it clicked; Richie “Trashmouth” Tozier stood before you, hands tucked sheepishly into his leather jacket, with his hair wild from running his fingers through it moments before.

“Oh my GOD! Richie!” You felt yourself running at him and attack him in a hug. He didn’t move at first, still slightly taken aback by having seen someone he hadn’t seen in 27 years look so painfully familiar but like a beautiful stranger. He moved to hug back but you’d already stepped back to get a better look at him.

“You look great, Trashmouth! What the hell!” You laughed and Richie’s awkwardness eased up as he smiled a bit.

“Look at you, you look gorgeous! What the fuck happened to me?” He glanced at his reflection in the glass of the window and shook his head a bit.

“Oh stop. When did you get in?” You asked, stuffing your own hands in your pockets, quickly becoming re-acquainted with the chilly air of Maine.

“Last night. You?”

“Earlier this afternoon. Have… have you seen anyone yet?”

“Nope. You?”

“Not yet. Wanna go in?”

“Not at all.”

“Alright, let’s do this.” You took your hands out of your pocket with a deep breath to calm your racing heart, and ripped the door open as Richie followed behind you.

The restaurant seemed nice and was brightly lit, which helped to relax you a little bit.

That might make it easier to recognize everyone.

The hostess led you and Rich to a private room aside from the main dining room, where 3 grown men near the fish tank, becoming readjusted to each other once again.

“Wow, take a look at these guys!” The shorter man in the red jacket said, attempting to relieve some of the tangible awkwardness.

You pressed your lips together as you made eye contact with the taller man, who seemed to be familiar in a different way than the others. His muscles contracted as he crossed his arms over his chest, his silver watch winking at you in the light. His blue eyes were bright, and full of hazy memory.

“Look at her TREMBLE girls! She’ll be a laughing stock by the end of the day!” Gretta Keene was cackling as you shook like a teapot, your back so far against the lockers that the locks were pressing into your back. You had no idea why Gretta was so terrifying, but she just was. There were no limits with her torment, and that certainly didn’t exclude you. She’d thrown wet trash on you, poured paint in your backpack in art class, and hid your clothes after gym class. She made you miserable at any opportunity, purely because she knew it bothered you; plus you were an easy target, you had no one to protect you. She had all the power. Especially since she found your sketchbook, filled with embarrassing drawings of one Bill Denbrough.

“Oh s-shut up, G-gretta.” The all-too-familiar lanky boy stepped out from behind Gretta, meekly followed by a few other boys you’d recognized from your classes through the years, who were always with Bill. Gretta whipped her ponytail around to look at who’d interrupted her fun, allowing you to sneak a bit closer to the boys.

“Aw would you look who it is, Stuttering Bill Denbrough! Coming to protect your little girlfriend, huh?” Bill’s blue eyes hardened, ignoring Gretta’s comment.

“Just leave her alone, she never did anything to you.” Bill crossed his arms over his chest.

“Oh yeah? Or what?”

“O-or I'll r-r-remind the w-wh-whole school a-about how R-Ri-Richie p-p-pulled up your skirt d-during the cl-class play i-in 4th grade.” Bill smirked as Gretta’s face turned a shade of pink.

Richie snickered as he adjusted his glasses, clearly still amused by the memory. Eddie glared at him and Richie shrugged.

“You win this round, Denbrough,” Gretta glared at him, clearly trying but failing to intimidate him. “Next time, Stuttering Bill won’t be around to save your ass, you little slut.” Gretta lunged at you and you slammed back into the lockers, trying to hide your wince after hitting a lock particularly hard.

She sashayed away as you recovered, rubbing the lower part of your back.

“Thank you.” You whispered to Bill, casting your eyes down. You were extremely shy, especially after Gretta’s torment had begun. You looked back up and Bill smiled kindly at you, extending his hand to help you up.

“I-I’m Bill D-D-Denbrough,” You shook his hand with a shy grin. “I-I know w-we’ve had c-cl-classes together f-for a few y-y-years, b-but I d-don’t thi-think we’ve e-ever spoken.”

“I’m (Y/N).” Bill nodded.

“I’m Richie!”

“Edward Kaspbrak, but you can call me Eddie.” “Call him Eddie Spaghetti, he LOVES that!”

“I told you to stop calling me that!”

“Alright Eds, have it your way.”

“I hate Eds too! It’s Eddie!”

“Calm yourself, Eduardo.”

“RICHIE!” Richie snickered again as Eddie crossed his arms, huffing in frustration.

“I”m Stanley, Stanley Uris.”

“Oh, yes! We have math together.” You smiled at the curly-haired boy. He sat behind you at math, always answering the teacher’s questions.

“Bill?” You whispered, frowning slightly. Bill broke out into a grin and approached you slowly, memories streaming back.

“(Y/N).” He said almost breathlessly, pulling you into a tight hug. Your knees almost buckled beneath you at his familiar scent and feeling of him holding you so close and so tight.

“I can’t believe it’s been so long, I just, I can’t believe it…” You trailed off, an eruption of memories causing your previous headache to return. You grimaced slightly, and shook it away, not allowing something so silly to ruin your evening.

“I know. It’s been what, 18 years? 17? Right after college, I believe, is when we last saw each other.” Bill took a step back, suddenly feeling like he was back in high school with the way his emotions were running so rampant.

“Something like that. How have you been?? What’s been going on? What do you do?” You became readjusted quickly, the other Loser’s looking on with a familiar feeling, as if they’d seen the same sort of interactions between the two of you. As a matter of fact, they had. When you were all much, much younger, and a lot more unable to speak your feelings.

You and Bill caught up very quickly as you awaited the other’s arrivals, one by one. You learned he followed his heart and became a writer, and you’d actually read a few of his books! Contrary to popular belief, you thought his endings were not that bad. He’d been married for a few years, but it never quite worked out, so they ended up divorcing on civil terms. He found out you hadn’t married; never quite finding the right person. Little did you know, the right one had been only a few hours away, subconsciously writing your personality into book characters. You’d become (Y/D/J), traveling the world like you’d always wanted to, and settling down in a place that was the complete opposite of Derry. Not that you’d remembered what it was like in Derry, but once you returned, you shuddered at how much the place had affected you.

You left the Chinese restaurant feeling a heavy weight on your shoulders, weighing down on you like never before. Between finding out about why Stanley hadn’t been at dinner, the fortune cookie massacre, and your feelings for Bill all coming rushing back at once, there was almost nothing keeping you from leaving. Almost.

“I-I’m gonna go w-w-with Mikey to the library, you o-okay to get back by yourself?” Bill asked, mentally cursing for allowing his stutter to rear its head.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay. I’m probably gonna go to bed and mull things over.” You rubbed your hand up and down his arm, watching as he untensed a little bit. Your touch was always enough to relax Bill, especially back in the days after the first battle.

You slept over his house pretty often, sneaking in and out of his window on the days you were afraid his parents would think you were spending too much time there. Half the time when you would wake up in the middle of the night by yourself, usually after a Gretta or Pennywise induced nightmare, and sneak over to Bill’s and climb into bed with him; your safe space. He would crack an eye open, smile, and open his arms to you. You climbed in and wiggled up next to him as he held you close, a smile gracing both of your faces.

“I’ll see you back there, then.” He smiled at you and his hand lingered on your shoulder for just a moment, before joining Mike in his car. You made it back to the motel without incident, and fell into a dreamless sleep.

The following morning, you woke up and found yourself shivering for the first time in years; and you knew it wasn’t because of any sort of draft. Along with the horrid memories that poisoned your childhood, the ones that remained untouched by the horrors you experienced also recurred. It was almost as if you were reverting to the person you were while living in Derry, complete with your need for Bill Denbrough to protect you.

“It’s only going to work if we split up,” Mike said, glancing at each Loser.

“No way, statistically speaking we’re much better off if we remain together as a group!” Eddie said, nervousness lacing his already edgy voice.

“W-we can’t. You w-won’t b-be able to find y-your tokens, it’s a sort o-of… personal journey. E-each of us h-has to par-partake.” Bill said, clapping a hand on Mike’s shoulder.

You shrugged and started climbing the ladder, squinting in the filtered light of the Barrens as you walked forward, feeling propelled by some unknown force. Just as Mike had advised, you all split up. You’d crossed paths with Bill a bit later in the day, who looked extraordinarily pale. Assuming he’d already grabbed his token by the look on his face, you just pulled him into a hug.

You pulled away with a smile, quickly realizing your mistake. A mangled sort of Gretta Bowie stood in front of you, hair matted and her typical blue eyeshadow was replaced by something red and gooey, assumably blood.

“Did you miss me, freak?” A voice that was only partially human seemed to be coming from Gretta, even though her mouth didn’t move.

You stood in frozen horror, mouth agape.

“I missed you, I thought you’d never come back to talk with me.” The creature that resembled your former tormenter remarked. “No one ever wants to talk with me.” The creature flipped its matted hair. “Look at you TREMBLE! The whole school is gonna know about your pathetic little crush on Bill Denbrough, the boy with the stutter. You know he never loved you, right? He thought you were a freak, like the rest of us. Just a quiet, little freak. He only pretended to like you, because he’s such a nice guy. Look at you now! All grown up and the same little crush on Big stuttering Bill Denbrough!” Gretta cackled in the most sickeningly familiar way, and you dropped to your knees in tears.

It’s not real.

It’s real.

You felt like you were going to throw up, all the anxiety and shame rushing back at you all at once.

Bill had crossed the street near his old neighborhood, still slightly unnerved by his encounter with Pennywise. Subconsciously, he had been hoping to run into you on the hunt for your token, looking for some sort of excuse to see you. He hated the idea of the whole group splitting up, despite the visions Mike had forced him to see the previous night. He knew it was the only way but the reality of the situation sat heavy like a rock in his stomach; he couldn’t stand the idea of losing another loved one to the goddamn clown that had been terrorizing him since he was just 13 years old.

An ear piercing scream rang out suddenly, breaking Bill from his thoughts. A very familiar scream.

“(Y/N)!” Bill whipped around wildly, looking for some sort of direction to go in. Another scream rang out and he followed the sound to Jackson Street, where he found you on your hands and knees, screaming unintelligible words. It was almost as if you were screaming at someone, not just something.

“(Y/N)!” He yelled again. You hadn’t heard him, and just kept on screaming your head off. Suddenly you stopped, and curled up in a ball, sobbing uncontrollably. You were clutching something to your chest that Bill couldn’t quite see as he tried to ease you into sitting up.

“H-hey, it’s okay. It’s me.” You looked up at him, your face completely tear stained with mascara running down your cheeks. Bill’s heart clenched a little bit.

“What h-h-happened?” You jumped into his arms, and began sobbing all over again. “Shhh, it’s o-over now. T-the clown c-c-can’t hurt you any-anymore.” He whispered into your hair, trying to get you to relax a little bit. Your heavy breathing eased as your breaths became more even, and you sat back on your heels.

“It was Gretta.” You said, your throat feeling raw from screaming. “She was telling me all these horrible things, and I-I just lost it.” You hugged the book tight to your chest.

“Well,” Bill’s eyes darted from the book to you. “At least you got your artifact.” He smiled his same old smile, making you feel a little bit warm inside. That smile could make anything seem a little bit brighter.

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har-rison-s · 4 years

Text

like father, like daughter?

Whereyoustand: would you do a Richie tozier X daughter!reader? I don't know if that's out of your comfort zone but maybe Richie's daughter meeting all the losers for the first time. sorry if you're not taking requests and I read it wrong but if you are please take your time and feel free to decline.

A/N: Nooo baby it's completely okay! Richie x daughter!reader makes me melt, omg… Let's guess why I'd love his arms around me any day I feel like crying… Hmmm… My daddy issues, you say? Haha, you're being silly. I've been dying to write this. You're one of my favourite followers, babe Whereyoustand ;) So, let's do this! I'm watching stanley edits while writing this, so forgive any sentimentality slipping into this one-shot. By the way, did you guys hear the rumor about Stan and Eddie dying? Who's the crazy sadist that spread it? Couldn't be me… Losers are a little out of character in this one, I'm so sorry. Happy reading!

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gif credit goes to owner, which isn’t me!

How do you even say hello to them? Your father's known these people since childhood, they're his best friends. They're the most important people to him in the world, just as important as you. And how do you not screw up with a first impression?

There must be hopes built up for you and what you're like... If you're like your father or not, how much you two are actually alike. But you're not what they're worried about. They don't even know you're coming! Their main excitement is about Richie himself. What's he like? Has he changed? How much of him do they actually remember, and how much of that is true?

Truth is, you're not like your father. You haven't inhabited the restless humor or the ability to improvise in general. What if they don't like you because of it? What if his friends want you to be the same, even expecting that of you? And you don't meet their standards…

You really wish your mother was here. She'd be your anchor, she'd make you worry less. But how would you know? She left when you were five. You hadn't become the person you are today by the age of five, or even a person, so you couldn't have known her at all and there's not much to remember, to go on. Only thing you remember is that she was kind. And you built a fairy-tale around that single feature. What else would there be to do?

Perhaps that's why you've grown into more of a quiet person. That makes you different from your dad Richie. He adores it, honestly, having not the feeling of looking into a mirror each time he sees you. He can't say you remind him of your mother, either, you're not a replica of her, either. You're like… a mix between them. Somewhere in a grey area that is what Richie isn't and what your mother is, is a little spot called 'Y/N'.

You, Y/N, are still sitting in your dad's second-most expensive car (the expense of it makes you wonder why he'd bring such a car to a place like this), outside of a restaurant you're both supposed to meet his old friends at. Richie's standing outside, leaning against this horribly pricey car, patiently waiting for you to come out, when you're ready. He's surprised it's not the other way around - you waiting for him to get out. He supposes that his own sentiment will come at some point. He already felt longing and wonder while driving through some of Derry's streets.

Your eyes watch a woman with striking red hair and a man in a denim jacket interact in front of the restaurant's entrance. They embrace, and then they enter the building. Huh. Maybe they're two of dad's friends. Maybe. You sigh and untwist your sweaty hands from the knot they've formed. You run them over your denim thighs, fast at first, but you slow your movements and calm yourself down. You think you're ready to go out there and face whatever. Why does this feel like some big step, some big life-changing step now? Why does it feel like the world's stopped spinning suddenly?

Try to shake the feeling, it's only dad's friends. It's not the end of the world. You're gonna be fine. Your hand pushes the car door open before you could protest against it, and when you step out of the car, your father turns his head around to see you. His eyebrows are raised, his eyes locking with yours through his glasses, and he walks around the car to reach you. Your eyes meet the ground out of shy habit, but a second later you feel Richie's hand on your shoulder firmly, comfortingly. You look up then, and are met with your father's concerned eyes.

“You okay, kiddo?” He asks, and you, out of another habit, nod. He knows it's false, you're so worried he can see right through you. “Want a hug?” Another nod. You feel yourself embraced by your father not a second later and you sigh against his chest. “They're gonna love you,” Richie says, “I know it even though I barely remember them.”

You laugh with him. “Thanks, dad.” You say.

“No problem, baby.” Richie says. “And, hey, I know it's a stupid thing to say, but don't worry so much. I should be the worried one, fuck's sake, what if they've changed too much to like me anymore? Pshht.” He makes you giggle again. “What I'm trying to say is,” your father's hand moves soothingly over your back, “you're perfect even if you're not like me. Alright?”

You nod against his chest, and you both pull apart.

“Now, let's head in. I'm actually excited for this.” Richie admits, looking upon the restaurant. He sighs, looks back at you and gives out his hand. You eye it for a second, but then take it with no further hesitation.

Your father's grip is tight, and you get the quiet thought at the back of your head that he's afraid. You look up at him for a few seconds, thankful he's not looking back at you. You don't like to be caught in the middle of your analysis, even if it is your father you're analyzing. And you truly see fear in his eyes. Just the smallest amount, but enough to be real.

All six of them, as Richie had said, are sure enough standing in the restaurant's booth and conversing amongst themselves. The pair you saw outside are a part of this group, you were right. Wow, this surely is something. A lot of friends. Even for your father's warm and energetic persona, six friends are a bunch. Your wide eyes quickly switch between them all, not knowing who to focus on, wondering which name belongs to who.

One of them, a man with dark, curly hair dressed in a checkered button-up (people still wear those?) turns to you, having felt your curious gaze on him and his friends. His face is laced with nervousness, similar to yours, and from your point of standing, you notice small marks on the sides of his face. The man on his left, dressed in a flannel and sporting some grey strands of hair already, turns to you, too. But a faint smile appears on the first man's face when he's looked longer at you. He might have an idea or two about who you are, because you certainly look the part.

“Hey, who's this?” He asks his friends, his hand faintly pointing at you from a low angle. You gulp when the rest of the adults turn to look at you. They spot both Richie and you, and there's a gasp from the woman with red hair and one from the guy who looks not a few inches taller than yourself. His gasp is sharper and deeper, almost a panicked one, you think.

Your father breathes an exasperated sigh, taking in all his old friends. “Fuck. You lot look great.” Is what he says first, and his friends are silent. Simply because they're too shocked to even laugh, not sure if they're right to. “Hello.” Richie says and gives a little wave. His friends are still in shock, and now Richie notices why - their eyes are fixed upon his offspring. She must be in a huge panic now.

He puts an arm around your shoulders, squeezes tight and smiles at his friends. “Right. This is my daughter.” He says. His friends' responses mix together since they speak at once, and Richie can't tell them apart. “Y/N, meet my friends.”

Richie guides you the few steps towards the curly-haired man. You extend your right arm, as does he, and though your dad's embrace gives you comfort, it also limits your movements. “Stanley Uris. Nice to meet you.”

“Y/N Tozier.” You say, and suddenly saying your birth name, which you've had for a whole of seventeen years, gives you pride and you feel it through your whole body. Your face lights up, you give Stanley a smile that stretches to your ears and your cheeks flare with a subtle rosy blush.

“Very nice to meet you, Y/N.” Stanley says, shaking your hand firmly and smiling at you, nodding his head. Looking into Stanley's eyes, you can feel they're searching your face and looking you over, clearly finding features you share with Richie. He, your father, does let go of you eventually, when you're done shaking hands with Stanley, and goes to greet his old pal Stanley now. As you walk over to the flannel guy, you hear your father and Stanley embrace and laugh together.

“Hi, I'm B-B-Buh-Bill Denbrough.” The man speaks first and gives his arm for you to shake, which you do. It takes a second to remember his name, and now you recognise the stuttering best-selling author your dad told you about on the plane. “You luh-look a lot like R-Richie.” Bill says. “Your father, I me-mean.”

“No worries, he's Richie to me, too.” You say in response. “We keep it formal in the Tozier house-hold.” You surprise yourself with a voice imitation of some business man breaks out of your own throat. Naturally breaks out, and you have to take a moment to realise what's happened. As natural as breathing.

Bill Denbrough laughs. “I see he's puh-passed the Voices down t-to you, as well.” He says. You only shrug, generally awestruck by what broke out of you seconds ago.

“I'm Mike Hanlon.” Comes from the man standing a little behind Bill. You have to look up at this man, he's taller than the previous two, as tall as your dad. You smile at Mike, recognising his name.

“You're the one who called dad.” You say, then, giving your hand to Mike for shake, but he surprises you with a hug. You're a little shocked and frozen, at first, but you don't mind the hug. Makes you feel a little easier, makes you feel welcomed into the company.

“Glad to meet you, Y/N.” Mike says to you. How strange. Have we met before? You want to ask him, but you decide against it.

“Glad to finally meet someone as tall as my dad.” You say instead and Mike, Bill and the remaining friends to greet laugh. You pull away from Mike Hanlon's grip and are met with quite the fitness guy. Oh, wait, that's the one in the denim jacket. You could have sworn your first impression of him was that of a cowboy, his denim jacket and leather boots sure make for the part.

“I'm Y/N.” You say, finally speaking first, before the man can introduce himself. He chuckles and shakes your extended arm.

“I'm Ben Hanscom.” He tells you with a warm smile on his face. His name rings a bell and you look for which bell is that. Have you heard him on the radio? The news? On Twitter?

“Wait a second,” you say, turning your head slightly to the side, “aren't you the guy who designed the famous building in London?”

Ben Hanscom nods, a little embarrassed, and there's even a blush on his cheeks. “That's me, yeah.” He confirms. You chuckle.

“Don't worry, I don't want an autograph.” You shake your head. Thankfully, Ben laughs, and lets you move closer to the woman with red hair. Before you greet her, though, you look over your shoulder to see your dad. He's embracing both Bill and Mike, and he looks very happy doing so, he looks very happy to meet them. Stanley's already choosing his seat at the round table.

Whispers from the near-by conversation catch your attention, and you listen in for a second.

“R-Richie, man, all due respect, buh-but I don't think hav-having Y/N here is safe. For her. F-For you.”

“Yeah, man, you should have left her with her grandmother or something.”

“Long story short, fellas, her mother's out the picture and all grandparents are dead. Yes, I could have arranged some activities for her while I'm gone, but I… I don't know. I didn't think she'd be safe alone at home or anywhere without me, if I'm here. You know?” Your father speaks much too quickly, he's nervous, he's afraid.

“That could be, yeah.”

“So I figured I better take her with me, so I can keep an eye on her and actually keep her safe.”

“You-you better. It's very duh-dangerous for her to be here.”

“Oh, like we're safe in a durable bubble here, Big Bill.”

But you turn your head to face the red-haired woman as if you hadn't heard anything. And you give her your best smile.

“My, you're a pretty thing.” She says and also pulls you into a hug, just like Mike did. You have no time to notice the bruises around her wrists. “You look like a doll, just like your father.” She tells you and then pulls back, but still holds your shoulders and runs her eyes over your features. It makes you nervous, and your eyes look lower, to her shoulders. “I'm Beverly.” She finally tells you.

“I'm Y/N.” You say and she nods.

“A very pretty name. Are you sure you're Richie's kid?” Beverly teases, and you can only chuckle. “He wanted to give all his kids, like, Star Wars or Lord Of The Rings names. I wouldn't allow him to name my kids back then.”

“Sounds like mine's the best choice.” You respond. This is news to you about your father. And you realise you'd gladly hear a lot more about what he was like as a kid. He's never talked about his childhood, never told a funny story from that time, and it's only now occurred to you. Sure, you've wondered what your father was like when he was your age, but asking never crossed your mind. What you don't know is that your father didn't remember his childhood until today. And you're excited to hear stories.

“Hey, kiddo,” says the man short in height, who is also the last one you have to meet out of Richie's friends, “my name's Eddie.” He gives you his hand to shake, and you do, and notice that he looks at your hand a little suspiciously for a brief second.

“I'm Y/N.” You tell him, smiling politely.

“So strange that you're Richie's kid.” Eddie wonders once your hands aren't touching anymore and he's stuffed his pair of hands into the pockets of his jeans. He shakes his head as you furrow your eyebrows. Eddie looks at Beverly. “Think Richie was the last one we thought would ever have kids, right?” Beverly nods to his question, and there's a wandering look in her eyes. “Tell me, how many times did he drop you when you were little?” Eddie asks, then, and the question makes both Beverly and you laugh. Eddie's humor is similar to Richie's.

“Very funny, Eds,” the mentioned man's voice comes from behind you, and so does his hand on your shoulder. Eddie visibly tenses up and his face changes.

“Don't call me that.” He tells Richie, but he doesn't respond.

“I may have been a big joke back then, but, as I look upon you all now,” Richie makes a circular gesture to his circle of friends around him, “I'm the one who's raised a beautiful kid out of the whole seven of us.” Your father boasts and everyone laughs. You smile and lean into his side. Meeting his friends has been ten times better than you anxiously had anticipated.

The Losers Club, a nickname Richie announced when he also banged the gong in the corner of the room, and you moved to the round table and took seats around it. You chose the seat between Stanley and your father. Eddie and Ben were to Stanley's left and Beverly, Bill and Mike were on your dad's right. Through the course of the dinner, it turned out you'd chose the best seat. Whether it was out of nerves and social anxiety or just pure clinginess to your parent, didn't matter now.

Your father and Eddie were quite the bickering house-wives, and to hear Stanley's little comments to himself only added to how funny everything was where you were sitting. Also, Stanley talked to you about being nervous, saying he'd noticed your shaken form and wide eyes, and talked about his own nervousness. That made you ease up even further.

The dinner was filled with laughter and fun, made you forget all your worries. Hearing all the stories about Richie as a kid, finding out the nicknames they gave each other, and joining them in re-discovering their childhoods. Spending time with your father's friends... You never thought you'd be in this kind of situation, yet here you are. You write this dinner down as one of the best days with your father, if not the best.

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#richie tozier x reader #richie tozier imagine #richie tozier imagines #richie tozier x daughter #richie tozier x you #richie tozier x daughter!reader #richie tozier request #richie tozier requests #the losers club imagine #the losers club x reader #adult!losers club x reader #adult!losers club imagine #adult!richie tozier imagine #har-rison-s writings #har-rison-s writes #har-rison-s work

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dontlikedarkness · 4 years

Text

sour

stanley had fallen out of love with richie tozier. he had no clue as to why, or when it had started to happen, but it had.

he no longer loved his boyfriend of fifteen years and husband of six. the man he trusted with his life. the man who had held him close when their first ever cat died of kidney disease a few years back. the man who never failed to make him smile, much as he hated it. the man he'd a adopted a fucking child with not four years ago.

he was afraid of disappointing his lover and his best friend, yes, but more than anything, he was afraid of disappointing his daughter.

lacey had just turned six when they'd adopted her, a shy, tiny girl with wild curls and bright green eyes. she was ten now, a beautiful, sharp, outgoing child, and stan was insanely proud of her. he taught her french on the weekends, and often she'd accompany him to his office and watch him work with the animals. she was fascinated with his work as a veterinarian and told him constantly that when she grew up, she wanted to be just like dad, taking care of the animals and keeping them safe.

she'd follow richie to work, too, on occasion. his work as an architect interested her just as much, and sometimes stan would overhear her saying "monkey, don't tell dad, but i think i wanna be an engineer when i grow up," and his heart would warm at the fact that she didn't want to disappoint him. he sat her down, of course, and explained to her that she could be whatever she wanted to be, and she'd hugged him tight and told him she loved him very much and thank you for giving her a home and for loving her the way her momma never could.

just the thought of splitting up her home again made his stomach twist up in knots. how could he do this to her? to richie? they didn't deserve this, not in the least.

maybe i haven't really fallen out of love with richie, he told himself, desperate to make things work, and wanting to avoid confrontation at all costs — more for lacey's sake than his.

and so he stayed.

he stayed and played happy family for a long while, forcing himself to seem happy in his home. it didn't matter that there was this overwhelming urge to run, run as far as he could and to never come back. it didn't matter that he felt most alone when they were closest, it didn't matter that he wanted to run for cover every time they hugged. it just didn't matter.

he forced himself to kiss richie, despite the sense of something being completely, utterly wrong every time their lips touched.

but he was miserable. he was miserable even when spending time with lacey, his daughter, the person he loved most in the world. that was his breaking point. he had to do something, and he had to do it soon, before things got any worse.

it was difficult to find a way to breach the subject in private, considering the amount of time they would spend with lacey after work, and even in the mornings before school.

stan braced himself for the confrontation, preparing himself as much was possible in the face of what he was about to do.

richie was pouring drinks for the two of them — vodka for himself and wine for stan, as per usual. stan stood off to the side, looking in fondly at the way his husband seemed so serene and at peace, even for a few moments.

shut up, stanley, he told himself. you're only going to make this harder.

he took a deep breath before clearing his throat gently, garnering a slightly concerned glance from richie. "richie, we need to have... a talk, of sorts," he murmured, keeping his gaze low so that he wouldn't have to pay attention to the undoubtedly confused and perhaps a little worried expression on richie's face.

"what about, princess?"

fuck. even that simple phrase was enough to make stan want to turn around and bash his head into a wall rather than doing what he knew he had to do.

"i..."

he trailed off, a sudden feeling of uncertainty washing over him. was he sure he had to do this? no, it's now or never, he told himself, and he took another deep breath before speaking.

"richie, this has been a long time coming, so please don't think i'm taking this lightly when i say this. lately, whenever i'm around you, something just feels... wrong, somehow. off, if that's the right term, and i—"

richie quickly cut him off, pulling stan close into a hug. "i should have known you'd figure it out," he murmured, and stan tensed. figure what out, exactly?

he kept quiet, not about to interrupt richie. he needed to hear what he was about to say, and he feared if he stopped him now, he would never know.

"i'm sorry for keeping this from you for so long," he said, his voice wavering slightly, his hands tightening around stan's waist as if holding on for dear life. "i know. i know this is something i should have told you immediately, but i was scared. i didn't want you to look at me differently. i..." he took a moment to compose himself, pulling back and flashing stan a sad smile, something so incredibly out of character for him that stan couldn't help but return the smile. "i didn't want you and lucy to only see the cancer. i just... i just wanted to feel normal, for as long as possible, before i have to leave you."

in that moment, stan felt his heart shatter. that's why he'd been feeling so off. it was so obvious now, and he'd been such an idiot not to see it. he hadn't fallen out of love with richie. no, he still loved his husband as much, if not more, than ever.

he'd felt the cancer, somehow. felt that something missing, that something different in richie, and interpreted the sour taste it left in his mouth as a sign that they weren't meant to be.

he hated himself for it. he'd been about to leave his husband, the love of his fucking life, and all the while he'd been suffering and in pain and he hadn't seen it. he hadn't said a word, and richie had had to go through it on his own.

stan's stomach physically ached with the pain of the news. cancer, of all things. and the way richie had said he'd be leaving them... he didn't want to think about what that meant, but he knew he would have to, at some point, and now was better than later.

"...leave us," he began, more of a statement than a question. "does that mean..?"

he didn't dare say it outright. that would make it too... real.

they were both crying now, stan more than richie, a torrent of tears streaming down his face.

"yeah. the doctor gave me two months, tops."

"and you've known how long?"

"six months."

six months. richie had been living with this for six god damn motherfucking months and he hadn't bothered to tell a soul. the sadness turned to anger all too quickly, and suddenly stan was glaring at richie, tears pouring down his face as he fumed. he took a step towards him, blinking back violent tears. "you didn't bother to tell me? six fucking months and not a word? did i not deserve to know? what about lucy? how the fuck am i supposed to tell her that she's going to be losing yet another parent and that she only has two fucking months to say goodbye? please, richie, explain it to me, because i don't fucking know."

stan's words turned to sobs, and he slumped against richie's chest, hiccuping into his shoulder, his entire body heaving with the force of his sobs.

the soft noise of small feet echoed across the floor, and they froze, stan still pressed against richie's chest, attempting to calm his tears so lucy wouldn't have to seen him cry.

"daddy? papa?"

her tired voice and worried expression broke stan's heart even further, if possible. she hadn't used her pet name for richie, and that hurt like hell. she knew something was up. they couldn't hide it from her.

he didn't have the heart to say anything, but he didn't want richie to have to explain it again. it had to have been hard enough the first time and he wasn't about to put him through that again.

he took a deep breath, wiping at his eyes with one palm. "lacy..."

she wrapped her small arms around the two of them, burying her face in the gap between their chests.

"papa is... he's sick. he has... baby, look at me," he murmured, pulling back from richie and cupping her face in his hands, holding her small body close to his, almost protectively. "papa has cancer. he... he only has two months left."

#this one is long as fuck #and still unfinished somehow #not sure why i felt the need to write this but hoooo boy is it painful #stozier #stan uris #stanley uris #richie tozier #it 2017 #queued post #dontlikedarkness #a few cw warnings just in case #cancer #cancer mention #terminal illness #terminal illness mention

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kaspbrak-tozier-reddie · 4 years

Text

Band of Toziers - 4/?- ao3

Pairings: Reddie, Storis, Byler

Words: 14.5k

Preview:

- The Losers come over as soon as Eddie send them a text, with a 'Code WTF?!' - The Party drive up to Derry to meet Richie after Mike sends them all a text Just a sappy chapter on Mike, Boris and Richie meeting the Party and Losers Club.

We're now getting some Reddie, Storis and Byler stuff now ❤

Notes:

Because there are two Mikes, I'm calling Mike Wheeler 'Mike' and Mike Hanlon 'Michael', when the two are in the same place. If I get lazy or lose track, I may refer to both by their surnames just to lessen the confusion.

This does jump from boy to boy, so I'm sorry but it should get better. I've never done this sort of thing before.

An hour after Eddie had sent a 'Code WTF' (Unique situation - changes per person), Bev rushes over. She doesn't bother with the front door and jumps in through Richie's bedroom window.

"Uhhh, did you make a clone machine?" Bev asks as soon as she picks herself off the floor. She eyeballs the three Richie's in the room, noting the subtle differences between the 3 and picks out her Richie, the only one with the bad eyesight. The other two look like weird variations of Richie's personalities.

Happy Richie:

Okay, now she's reaching, but that's just the vibe he gives her.

Emo Richie:

Fall Out Boy,

My Chemical Romance, and

Panic! at the Disco.

maybe industrial

maybe a plug

double lobe

Bev's reaching, but she wants to have fun before they come by and trash her judgement.

"Hi I'm Michael, but you can call me Mike," the one dressed in bright colours says, holding out his hand towards the young redhead.

"Hi, Mike," Bev replies.

"I'm Boris," the emo looking Richie says.

"Hi, I'm Beverly, but please call me Bev," she replies. Her strong demeanour falters into shyness. Nothing about this is okay. Why hadn’t Richie told any of them about his family?

”So, uh, I’ll explain when the others get here,” Richie says.

As they all wait for the rest of the Losers to arrive, the 5 of them sit in absolute silence. Bev is confused, watching as the three Toziers interacted with each other just by eye glances. She noted a heap of similarities in their demeanours. "Weird right?" Eddie asks.

"Yeah, and here I thought one Richie was enough," Bev replies.

Richie's bedroom door swings open and in walks the rest of the Losers Club. "SUP FUCKERS?!" Bill screams as he enters, then he sees the 3 Toziers sitting around Richie's desk. "Oh shit!" Stan, Ben and Mike spot the 3 Toziers in the room. Completely disregarding Eddie and Bev who are chilling by the window.

"Richard, did you finally make that cloning machine? The one you've been talking about?" Stan asks.

"Nope," Richie replies. "This is my twin brother, Mike." He gestures to the identical twin in the bright clothing, "and this is our cousin, Boris."

As Boris looks at the rest of the Losers, he locks eyes with a blonde-haired boy. He smiles slightly, at him, and the boy smiles back.

Now was Richie's introduction of the Losers, all groaning in dread

"Guys, this is Big Bill, our ring leader. If he jumped off a cliff, he'd expect us all to follow," Richie says as he hugs the leader.

"This is Haystack, he's a gifted poet. It got him a girl that's way outta his league," Richie points to Bev and tussles Ben's hair.

"This is Mike Meyers, you know, that dude from Austin Powers. Mike's our nerd, he lives in the library."

"Finally, we have Staniel or Stanley Urine, either one works. He likes watching birds, at first I thought he liked watching girls but I found out he meant the actual animals. So I promise, he's not a creepoid."

Mike and Boris laugh simultaneously.

"Ignore him," Stan says. "I'm Stanley Uris, that's Mike Hanlon, Ben Hanscom and Bill Denbrough." Stan throws a quick smile to Boris before looking away, blushing.

Beverly catches it in her peripheral vision. Stan's demeanour changed as soon as he saw Boris. "Eddie, do you know if Stan had a crush on Richie at some point?" Bev asks the hypochondriac. Eddie feels a pinch of jealousy running through his veins but still thinks upon it. He wasn't subtle with his feelings, but if Stan did have a crush on Richie, it would've been subtle. The hypochondriac tries to get into Stan's mind but comes up blank.

"I don't think so, why?" Eddie responds.

"I swear I just saw Stan blush."

Eddie sits upright and looks directly at Stan. He tries to hide his jealousy, and takes his time before saying, "Richie?"

Bev shakes her head, "Boris."

Eddie wants to laugh, that can't be right. Stan is emotionless and often talks about dying or birds. So, it can't be true, that Stan blushed, Bev must've been seeing things. But then he sees it for himself, Stan is laughing with Boris, his cheeks are bright red but he doesn't even care. He elbows Bev and gestures to Stan, she smirks, then turns back to Eddie. "So, what about you and the Trashmouth? Told him yet?"

"No," Eddie lies through gritted teeth. He has to talk to Richie about it first before they tell the Losers.

"So, Mike, you seeing anyone?" Ben asks Richie's twin.

"Yeah, my best friend, Will Byers," Mike replies.

"Gee Rich, step up your game and ask out Eddie," Bill says.

"I thought that - " Mike sees Richie shaking his head; he doesn't continue.

Much like Eddie, Richie wants to wait until he has spoken to his hypochondriac boyfriend.

Richie listens in on Mike, learning about his group of friends. Like Richie's group, they have a name for themselves. Instead of the 'Losers Club', Mike's group calls themselves the Party.

There's a shit ton of similarities between the two groups that Richie realises as Mike explains. The Party sit in Mike's basement playing Dungeons and Dragons (D&D) and the Losers Club sit in an underground bunker (clubhouse) doing god knows what, mostly drinking and playing 'truth or dare' or 'never have I ever'.

Then as Mike starts explaining his friends, Richie quickly learns that Mike's their ring leader like Bill's the Losers Club's leader.

Will sounds a bit like Eddie;

Dustin = Richie;

Lucas = Stan;

Jane = Ben;

Maxine 'Max' = Bev; and

Steve = Mike.

Richie got all of that just by Mike's descriptions of his friends. It amazes Richie, sometimes, how fast his mind works. Maybe it also has something to do with his undiagnosed ADHD.

"Anyone want anything to drink?" Richie asks, they all said 'yes'. "Eds, can you help me?"

"How many times, Richard? Don't call me 'Eds'!" Eddie responds and gets up, following his tall boyfriend down the stairs.

"Hey, Boris, can I talk to you for a second?" Beverly asks the 'emo-looking' Richie.

"Yeah, okay," Boris replies, he gets up from his seat on the desk and sits on the window sill, beside Bev.

"Do you like Stan?" It catches Boris off guard, it stammers a little. "It's just, he's been blushing like mad and he never really does that." Boris looks towards the blonde-haired boy for the umpteenth time today.

There are several things that Boris notices about the bird expert. The way he stands when talking to people; perfect posture. His hand gestures as he speaks. Boris is not one to believe in 'love at first sight' but he thinks that he can let this one slide. There's just something different about Stanley compared to Theo. He started to like Theo a few months after they started to hang out, maybe it was the drugs or the alcohol but he's been sober for 48 hours now. He hasn't had a craving for weed, coke or alcohol since he laid his eyes on the blonde-haired boy.

Beverly nudges Boris, "you're staring," she states. "I can hook you two up if you want?"

"No thank you, Beverly. I need to get to know Kolibri first," Boris says.

"'Kolibri'?"

"It means Hummingbird in Russian." Boris removes himself and goes back to join Mike and the others.

Bev just lets it sink in, 'Hummingbird'. Why did he call Stan a Hummingbird?

He did make Stan laugh before; it makes sense. Maybe.

Stan looks over to Bev, she quickly signals over. He mutters a quick 'sorry' to Mike, and pads over to Bev. "You called?" Stan says.

"Do you like Boris?" Bev asks, cutting to the chase, she's not in the mood for that airy-fairy bullshit.

"No, maybe, yes? I don't know," Stan sighs.

He too isn't one to believe in 'love at first sight', he finds it bullshit. But he couldn't explain his feelings about Boris any other way.

"He called you a hummingbird, in Russian."

"It's the way I laugh, it sounds like I'm humming." Stan smiles and blushes. Beverly had only ever seen one person do that, and that was Eddie whenever he spoke about Richie. With Eddie, it was a sign of embarrassment and shame because of the bullshit lies Sonia fed him. But Stan? Stan's is because he's shy, he's opening up to Beverly about something that he would normally go to Richie for. Richie would make a joke, to break the tension, but would 100% support him.

"Is it weird? He looks so much like Richie, I need to talk to him." Stan gets up and goes downstairs to where Richie and Eddie are pouring everyone a drink.

"Richie, Eddie, can I talk to you both ab - " Stan cuts himself off as he walks in on Richie and Eddie kissing. "Never mind." He does a 180 and heads back to the stairs.

"Wait!" Richie calls, "We'll explain just tell us what you wanted, please."

"Okay, I'll go first," Stan says, he sighs, "I may have developed some sort of crush on your cousin." Eddie's jaw drops; he didn't misread Stan. Richie smiles, which freaks Stanley out. "Why are you smiling?"

"Because it's cute!" Richie exclaims.

"But he looks like you! I just don't think - "

"You worried you'd get feelings for me or something?"

Stan pauses for a bit and looks at the ground. "I don't know, maybe. You both look alike, he's basically like you. So's Mike."

"Stan, look at me." Stan moves his head up and meets Richie's eyes. "Look me dead in the eyes and tell me that you only see me as a friend."

Stan looks to Eddie, who's still got his lips parted. The blonde boy smiles momentarily at Eddie, then looks back to Richie. He searches Richie's face, looking at the similarities between Boris and him; physically. Okay, so Richie's kinda hot, Stan thinks, but as he gets to the personality, Boris is more chill and conventional. He isn't spontaneous like Richie is.

Richie is bothersome, his jokes are appalling and not to mention his flirting with Eddie. Considering what Stan just saw in the kitchen, he's hoping that Richie will be less vexatious. But then again, even before Eddie, Richie was annoying. Who knew a 5-year-old could be that irritating? Also, he's astonishingly intelligent, barely has to study for anything and will still pass with flying colours (it'll be interesting to see what he'll be like at college). Stan's spent too much time with the trashmouth that he's not fully attracted to him, besides his looks. But that's because Boris, who looks a lot like Richie, opened a floodgate.

"I like you as a friend," Stan says, staring at Richie.

"Also, Stan, please don't say anything to the others about Rich and me, please," Eddie says.

"Wouldn't dream of it, Kaspbrak," Stan replies and grabs a tray off the bench.

The three boys carry up a tray each of the drinks, for the Losers, Mike and Boris. Richie gives Stan a wink and shoves him lightly into Boris, causing him to fall directly into Boris' lap. Stan gives a tight embarrassed smile at Boris before giving Richie the middle finger, to which, Richie responds with his own.

Mike watches from the sidelines, looking between both Richie, Stan & Boris. He nudges Michael, "Does that normally happen?" Mike asks.

"Hmm, no, Stan and Richie say one or two words to each other. Then just stare," Michael replies. "Richie smiling at Stan? That's not normal."

"When Richie tried to set Stan up with Greg, he smiled exactly ... " Bill trails off and looks directly to Stan, who, by the way. hasn't bothered to remove himself from Boris' lap. "Oh."

Even Ben and Bev notice the smile that Richie is giving Stan, whenever their eyes lock. Everyone in that damn room can see that Richie and Stan are best friends. Mike Wheeler thought that maybe Richie and Stan hated each other but that smile; that god damn smile ... It's living proof that Stan likes Richie's opinion. Because Richie and Stan are best friends.

Bev walks over to the three boys, leaving her boyfriend with Richie and Eddie. "You know, Stan told me that he needed to speak to Richie," Bev says.

"That makes no sense," Michael says. "Stan has never once asked for Richie's advice."

"Whenever Richie and I have our smoke sessions on Fridays, he tells me if Stan had spoken to him," Bev explains. "Not to mention, Richie goes to him before he comes to me."

"Wait, wait. Does that mean that Stan found out that Richie was gay before you did?" Bill asks. Bev nodded. "If you knew for a whole 5 months, Stan knew for what? 5, 6? Months?"

"8, actually." The boys' jaws drop; Stan had kept a secret for 8 months and said nothing?

It puzzles the Losers as to why the two-act like they hate each other when, in reality, they're the best of friends.

Mike is just listening in by this point when he starts to get a little bored - he's not going to lie. He decides to talk with the others on the opposite side of the room.

"How's it going, Mike?" Eddie asks.

"Good, good. This is the chaos that I miss," The Party's leader says. "It was before we met Jane and Maxine, it was just us boys."

"Chaotic as fuck?" Richie chimes in, Mike laughs and nods his head. "Say, Mikey, invite your friends up. We've got the room and I'm sure mom won't care. If not, we can chill at Mike's farm."

Mike shrugs and pulls his phone out from his pocket. He opens the Party's group chat inviting the Party up to Derry.

**** **** ****

A few hours later, the Losers, Boris and Mike all head down to the clubhouse. Showing the two newcomers the ropes. As per usual, Eddie and Richie sit in the hammock, just not head to toe like normal. More like sitting side-by-side, cuddling. "Say, Koromyslo, you and Edward? Yeah?" Boris pipes up. Richie ignores the question, only focusing on the unknown word that sounds a Russian translation of sorts.

"What's a 'koromyslo'?" Richie asks.

"Rocker," Boris says monotonously. "So you and Edward? Yes?" Stan giggles.

"You fucking snitch, Stan!" Richie yelps.

"I said nothing, you two are so obvious!" Stan laughs. "You always sit head to toe. Now you're cuddling?"

"You're insufferable," Richie mutters.

"He isn't denying it," Beverly says. "Did you two finally admit your feelings?"

Richie rolls his eyes and looks at Eddie, the boy beside him nods head slowly with caution. The Trashmouth cups Eddie's face in his hands and kisses him. He goes to lean down a little more, trying his best to get in a comfortable position but accidentally leans too much into Eddie. The hammock rocks dangerously and tips the two boys out.

Richie's glasses are just millimetres from falling off his face and are held up by Eddie's shoulder. Quickly fixing them, he looks up to see Eddie straddling him. "Well, I like this view," Richie says. Eddie groans in disgust.

Why? Goddammit, Richie! Eddie thinks to himself

"Come on guys! Leave this place for our innocent childhoods!" Ben groans.

Eddie pushes himself off Richie, dusting himself down before holding out his hand for Richie. "Damn, then I can't tell you ... eh, who am I kidding? I've jerked off to the thought of Eddie's mom down here," Richie says.

"BEEP BEEP RICHIE!" All 6 Losers groan and Eddie punches him in the arm.

"Why do I like you?" Eddie mutters.

Richie looks somewhat offended but knows that Eddie is 100% joking. The two reposition on the hammock and Richie leans over to grab a comic book. His backpack sits by the wooden post that's barely within arms reach. Bev watches on, silently hoping that the hammock tips over again; that would be priceless.

Mike and Boris watch the Losers Club sit around minding their own business. Richie and Eddie are reading a comic together, while Stan is bird watching, from a hole in the ceiling. Bev, Ben, Mike (Hanlon) and Bill are playing cards quietly by the swing.

The only sounds that can be heard are the rustling of pages turning; rope squeaking, as the hammock rocks gently; leaves rustling above them, and birds chirping.

Suddenly a buzzing noise interrupts the silence, every head in the underground bunker turns to Mike. He pulls his phone from his pocket.

"Hey, babe?" Mike answers.

"We'll be there in like a day. We're catching a flight now," Will says on the other side of the call.

"Okay, see you tomorrow, Will. Love you."

"Love you too."

Mike hangs up the phone. "What?" Everyone goes back to what they were doing, leaving Mike to his thoughts.

"It's 6 pm, guys," Bill says.

"Crap! Mom's not going to be happy! I'll be grounded for sure!" Eddie says.

"You're staying at mine, remember?" Richie says as he helps Eddie out of the hammock.

"Shoot, sorry, Rich."

"All good, Eds."

Mike follows but looks back to Boris, who's waiting patiently for Stan. The Wheeler boy sees something in his cousin's eye; a look that he's seen today and every day, for the past year. It's the look of love, no doubt about it. He climbs up the corroded aluminium ladder where Richie and Eddie are waiting. Mike feels a slight wind change and sees Eddie shiver. As if on intuition, his brother wraps his arms, tightly, around the hypochondriac. "Hurry, you two. Eddie will get hypothermia!" Mike calls.

"It's not that - " Stan emerges from the bunker and immediately gets hit with the wind change. "Never mind, it's a wee bit chilly."

Boris quickly hoists himself up and shrugs off his leather jacket, enveloping it around Stan's shoulders. The boy blushes ferociously, as he tugs the jacket's opening together, he leans into Boris for extra warmth.

As the 5 of them walk up to the streets of Derry, Mike feels like he's 5th wheeling, slowing down his pace to walk behind the couples - one couple; Richie breaks his awkwardness.

"I was thinking since your friends and boyfriend are coming tomorrow, what if we go on a camping trip? The 6 of us? The week before we're set to go to college?" Richie says.

"Hang on Rich, 6 of us?" Stan asks.

"Well, wouldn't want Boris to be 5th wheeling now, would we?" Richie replies, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Yeah, but why me?" Stan states.

Richie simply points to the leather jacket that's enveloped around the blonde's shoulders. Stan reddens again, leaning into Boris to conceal his embarrassment, but that only makes it worse.

**** **** ****

The following day, Mike awaits the arrival of his friends. All but Dustin and Lucas were coming, due to last-minute college plans and family vacations, the two couldn't make it; but Max, Will and El are coming. The three of them are catching a taxi into town. "When were you friends supposed to get here?" Maggie asks Mike.

"9 am," Mike replies, still pacing impatiently. The clock on the wall reads '11 am', the Party is 2 hours late and Mike's starting to worry. "Maybe their flight's delayed."

Maggie nods, hugging her second son briefly before heading off to work, leaving Mike and Richie alone, in the kitchen. The Wheeler boy checks his phone again for the 10th time within the past 20 minutes, still no messages from his friends. Richie makes another cup of coffee for himself, putting himself in the way of Mike's pacing line.

"Check the Snapmap," Richie says, getting annoyed with his brother's pacing.

"I don't have snap chat, and neither do my friends," Mike replies.

Abruptly, a boy comes down the stairs in nothing but boxers, huffing out in annoyance. Boris could hear the two of them, all the way upstairs. He's usually a heavy sleeper so how the fuck is Eddie still asleep?

"What even is social media?" Boris replies groggily.

"Did you seriously just get up?" Mike ripostes.

"Yes, now quiet. I need my normal 4 cups of coffee before anyone talks to me," Boris says and grabs the pot of coffee, pouring it into a mug that he pulls from the cabinet above. Richie and Boris leave the kitchen to wake up elsewhere, allowing Mike to deal with his chaotic crisis.

Finally, 3 hours later, the Party shows up, "What the hell?" Mike says as he stands on the bottom-most stair. "Where have you guys been?!"

"Our taxi broke down, we had to walk all the way here. No reception." Will puffs out.

"Mike, who's at the - oh, hello," Richie says as he goes down the stairs. "I take it, you're Will." Will just about faints when he sees Richie and it doesn't help that Boris exits from the kitchen, causing poor Will to faint.

Richie yells for Eddie with his 2 fanny packs (that he no longer uses) but still has first aid supplies.

The feisty young lad comes bounding down the stairs with a cold and wet cloth. "Well, lay him down," Eddie says. "And Boris, Richie, mind if you leave the room? I don't want him to faint again." The trashmouth and the emo leave the room, while Eddie tends to Will.

"Richie wasn't kidding," Mike says.

"Yeah well, you pick up a few things when your mom makes you think you're sick when you not," Eddie retorts; he turns his head to look at the girls. "Hey, I'm Eddie, Mike's told us all about you."

"I'm El, and this is Max," the brunette says. "Who were those boys?"

"The one with the glasses is Richie, my boyfriend and Mike's brother. They had no idea that the other existed until yesterday." Eddie explains. "The other, dressed in black, is Boris, their cousin. He was adopted by a Russian family when his parents died. His story is super morbid."

Will stirs on the couch and Mike rushes to take Eddie's place beside Will, keeping the cool cloth on his head. "What happened?" Will asks.

"You fainted, guess my brother and cousin are a bit too much," Mike says. "You okay?"

Will nods and Mike leans down to peck his lips.

"Don't worry, I'll bring them out, just don't faint on me again," Mike says.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Will replies, the boy spots Eddie in his peripheral vision. "I'm Will Byers."

"Eddie Kaspbrak," Eddie replies and takes the cloth off Will's forehead.

Mike walks back out with Richie and Boris; the two boys behind him, scratch the backs of their heads nervously as they are introduced to each of the Party members. So as it turned out, Mike and El dated before Mike got with Will. It had taken El moving away with the Byers for Mike to realise that he wasn't in love with El, he was in love with Will. "I had spoken to El, about it," Mike says, "thankfully she was understanding."

"We were better off as friends anyway," El states.

It's awkward for a moment, and Richie thinks of a good icebreaker. "Shall we head down to the quarry?" Richie asks.

"Where Koromyslo?" Boris asks.

"You know where we were yesterday?" Boris and Mike nod, "It's a few yards further, it's where we like to go swimming."

"Ahem!" Eddie fake coughs.

"Sorry, most of us, like to go swimming. Eddie hates it because there are germs," Richie fixes. "But, babe, let me just say that there are germs everywhere you go, including a hospital."

Eddie rolls his eyes. "If we're going, we need swimwear," Eddie says. El and Max look at each other, "Shit, Richie maybe we should go and get Bev."

Richie whips his phone out and immediately starts texting the redhead and not even 2 minutes later, she's bursting into the Tozier residence.

"I heard two gals needed swimmers," Bev says. "Hello, I'm Beverly Marsh, the only girl in the group of 7 dirty annoying, chaotic boys."

"Piss off Marsh, I just wanted the swimmers. You're not coming," Richie spits, then starts laughing and as does Bev. "Sorry, she can be a bit of a handful sometimes. Ignore her, she's just happy that she has other females to talk to."

The redhead sticks her tongue out at the trashmouth, only to get a middle finger in return. "Well Bev, I'm Maxine, Max for short. And this is El," the other redhead says. "I think we're going to get along just fine." Bev leads them up the stairs, letting the 4 boys wonder what the fuck just happened.

"Girls." They all said simultaneously.

**** **** ****

As the lot of them finally made it to the quarry, they are aced with the massive cliff. "Is it safe to jump?" Max asks.

"We do it all the time," Richie says.

"Yeah, after Bev constantly shows us up," Eddie replies and on cue the redhead pushes past everyone, jumping straight into the murky green water below. Boris goes next, somersaulting into the water.

"Oh come on!" Richie cries and goes to do a run up.

"No! Don't you dare, that's dangerous"' Eddie says sternly, Richie gestures to Boris. "You're clumsy and idiotic; he's probably done a heap of practice. Do. Not. Do. It."

Taking his boyfriend's advice he just does a basic run and jump, landing feet first in the disgusting water below.

Since Eddie is left with the newcomers he links them up, standing in between El and Will, taking both their hands in his and guiding them forward. Mike spits out the shitty water that got into his mouth and as does Eddie.

Boris, Bev and Mike immediately start to splash each other and wrestle, in the water; while Richie sits on the sandbank to get to know the others a bit.

Max starts off, talking about how she beat Mike's highest score on an arcade game. It was the initial reason as to why she thought Mike hated her. ' 'MadMax' beat my high score '. Richie and her, got talking about skateboarding, he had always wanted to try it but never got around to it. "I'll show you, I taught El not too long ago and now she's a pro," Max says.

"Well, in that case, sign me up," Richie replies.

El's next. She had fled the orphanage when she was 12/13, she met Mike, Dustin and Lucas in the woods one rainy night while they were looking for Will. Richie starts to laugh as El said that Mike hid her in his basement for a solid few months without no one knowing besides Dustin and Lucas.

Before Will can say a word, Richie feels cold water on his now partially dry hair. "You're dead Marsh!" Richie bellows.

"It wasn't Marsh this time," Eddie teases.

"I don't care that I love you, you're going down Kaspbrak!"

Will, Max and El watch on as Richie and Eddie tackle each other, laughing.

#reddie #storis #byler #richie x eddie #eddi x richie #stan x boris #boris x stan #mike x will #will x mike #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #stanley uris #boris pavlikovsky #mike wheeler #will byers #it chapter 1 #it chapter 2 #the goldfinch #stranger things

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gwilymz · 5 years

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ohh man im all up for virgin sub bri, i was thinking like you're making out in his dorm couch and then you end up riding him real good, but you guys forget the condom and he doesn't really know how to pull out on time and cums in you ok bye.

Being Brian’s neighbor was a bit exhausting; the whole dynamic of the flat next door was odd, to say the absolute least. The four of them were undeniably different, and there was always some sort of bickering echoing over the dry-wall plastered walls that proved to be much thinner than you had previously thought. It was always something about Freddie’s singing in the shower–which they insisted was good but utterly annoying at twelve-thirty–or Roger’s incessant mess-making that left the floor covered in a film of silk clothing. It was a rivalry almost; Roger and Freddie were the instigators, while Deaky and Brian were the mediators, always attempting to extinguish the smoldering fire that they only seemed to rekindle over and over again.

You weren’t sure about the four of them; they were quite enigmatic and contradictory. But you knew a few facts about each of them: that Deaky was a cutie, but had a definite mean-streak. Freddie was a puppeteer onstage, but could be very introverted off of it. Roger was a womanizer, his fingers always laced in those of a doe-eyed girl who he would never speak to again. And Brian–you knew the most about Brian. That he was exceptionally smart and a fantastic, alluring guitar player. He was tall, a bit shy, but could be a pistol if you nudged at him just right. But most of all, you knew you wanted to fuck his brains out.

There was something so magnetic about his lengthy legs perpetually sheathed in a veil of velvet. The way his knobby knees looked underneath the fabric, and his sharp jawline that was sometimes peppered with day-old stubble. His hair was perfectly imperfect, nestled into waves that intermittently coiled into tight curls, but only sometimes. His lips were plump, his eyes dipped in honey. He was sweet and had an innocent aura about him that made your knees weak when he knocked on your door and mumbled to ask if he could borrow some sugar. He’d occasionally pad over to your flat to apologize for how rambunctious the other three were being if they got shitfaced after a gig. Much to your delight, it was becoming commonplace for Brian to sleep on your couch when they were being particularly annoying, and you always cherished seeing his lips parted, teeth barely showing as he snored softly to cut the crisp morning air. His har would always fan over his cheekbones and you would sometimes push it away from his eyes and sit on the arm of the couch to peck the tops of his cheekbones, glowing from a thin veil of sweat.

You and Brian had gotten friendly, and you were itching for your friendship to teeter onto something a bit more serious. So you were more than ecstatic when Brian rapped on your door with a quite heavy fist, a bit uncharacteristic of him.

Opening the door, you yawned. Brian was dressed in some fleece sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt, his hair a bit frizzy, the remnants of his earlier shower. He smelled musky and a bit sweet, and his eyes were tired and a little sunken in and he looked more sultry, and the epitome of effortlessly attractive. He held a glow on his cheeks that was ethereal.

“Wanna watch some Stanley Kubrick films with me? A Clockwork Orange is on in a few.” He asked, nervously rubbing his palm over his elbow.

You nodded, eyes becoming drawn to the slight bulge in his sweatpants; you could tell he wasn’t wearing any underwear and you felt a warmth liquify in your bloodstream as you walked to his flat, just a few steps away.

Brian sweetly offered you a snack and a drink, and usually you would ask for some wine or something to take the edge off–to take the nerves off–but it was barely eleven in the morning.

“Where’re the musketeers?” You asked, using your and his coined nickname for the three men.

Brian settled next to you, his eyes heavy as he squinted a bit to focus his sleepy eyes on the small television in front of you. You mindlessly rubbed circles onto his kneecap, feeling the raised hills of the bone. Your hand felt up further, your nail catching a bit on a snagged part of his pants, and his breath seemed to do the same, snagging in his raw throat.

But you continued to watch the movie, breathing softly but only because you were both trying so hard to do so. You wanted Brian’s hands all over you; looking at his fingers nervously tapping along the fabric of the couch was making your legs press together, your senses heightened simply because of some white nail polish streaked onto his fingernails.

Brian broke the silence, but blanketed the tension in the air in yet another suffocating layer. “Do you want more water?” The question was innocent enough, but the way his pupils were dilated, lips drawn open and jaw just a bit tensed seemed to scream anything but innocence.

You didn’t know where it came from. It was as if your subconscious was digging her claws into your stomach and drawing out your desires–not that this one was too hard to wriggle out of you.

“Can I kiss you?” You asked, your hands braced on his thigh as you peered at him through your eyelashes.

He only nodded, hands fisted in the couch cushion below him as you climbed onto his lap, legs thrown on either side of his own thighs. You felt his cock stiffening from underneath you and you smirked a bit, shifting your position on top of him to give him a bit of friction, to seem innocent, unintentional.

“You’re such a pretty boy,” You moaned into your first kiss with him, your hands against his cheeks as your tongue nudged through his pillowy lips, plump and peachy. He whimpered and played with the ends of your hair, apprehensive with the movement of his tongue, although skilled enough to continually part your lips so he could stroke his tongue over your own. Sweet whines pored through your sweaty skin and dribbled through your bloodstream, straight to your core. His sounds were desperate, innocent, cute even.

Grabbing his jaw, you looked into his eyes, blown wide, and sucked on his bottom lip just a bit to pull another noise from his scratchy throat. “Pretty, pretty boy. You like being called that, baby?” You asked, hands trailing down his chest.

“Mhm. Feels good.” He admitted, gasping as your lips attached to his neck, nibbling over his skin until blossoming bruises blanketed the skin.

Now, his cock was rock hard, throbbing beneath his sweatpants as your thigh grazed over his stiff shaft. You traced a finger over his length and glanced up, testing the waters. He muttered a yes please before you continued, rubbing your palms over his cock and listening to his little mewls that were becoming addictive to your ears.

You continued to kiss him, hands threaded in his hair as you settled on rocking your pussy against him instead–he seemed to like that a lot more. Whimpers and almost imperceptible moans turned into quasi-groans as you yanked his sweatpants down, just enough so his cock sprang out, slapping against his lower stomach. He was extremely well-endowed; there was a bit more length than girth but he wasn’t lacking in either category. Throbbing veins fed into each other and feathered off as your eyes followed upwards to his head, which was a flushed pink and wet from some pre-cum.

“I’m a virgin–” He added, watching your thumb rub over his tip to collect some pre-cum as you stroked him leisurely, pushing your underwear to the side.

“Oh baby. So fucking precious and innocent.” You cooed, pressing kisses to his jaw as you rocked your clothed pussy against him; now only your thin panties separated you from him. “Do you wanna stop?” You asked, seriously.

He shook his head fervently. “No–please fuck me. I’m so hard for you.” He pulled down the collar of your shirt as you thumbed the hem of his own.

You didn’t say another word as you basically tore Brian’s shirt over his head and then rid yourself of your own, throwing them behind you. Brian was enamored by your tits, looking up at you a bit teasingly with a genuinely innocent look as he tongued your nipples and squeezed your breasts carefully.

You jerked him off slow enough that some pre-cum spurted from the tip, and you used that as some much needed lube–along with your spit. Brian’s eyes rolled back when you wrapped your wet hands around his cock and stroked him; he could feel your soft hands hugging every ridge of his cock and he wanted so desperately to feel himself deep inside your cunt. But as you lifted your hips to sink down on him, he remembered.

“I don’t have a condom–I think Rog might have some but–”

“I’m on the pill,” You mustered, sinking down on his cock until he was fully inside you, balls deep. Brian let out a projected moan, eyes fluttering shut as he gripped onto the couch cushions he was leaning against. “You’re so big fuck–feel how deep your cock is, baby? That’s all you.” You pressed his hand over your lower belly, where you could feel the head of his dick was nudging.

He groaned and bit his lip, one of his hands held over your lower belly, the other resting on your ass as you ground your hips on him, your clit rubbing against his pelvis.

“Look at you, Brian. Fucking me raw your first time–” You admired, grabbing his face and kissing him hotly while you began to fuck yourself on his cock, in tune with the pants that were leaving your mouths. “Such a handsome boy, all cute and whiny while I fuck you.”

Brian’s head fell back as you rode him faster, lifting your hips briefly just to push them back down so the head of his cock rubbed against every part of your throbbing pussy.

“So–tight. He whimpered, grabbing onto your hips tightly, listening to the creaking of the couch as you gasped into each other’s mouths, foreheads pressed together. “I–I wanna make you cum,” He begged, pushing his head forward to suck on your nipples, his tongue swirling around the bud as you clenched your cunt around him at the feeling. You grabbed his hand and pressed his fingers against your clit, moving it over the bud.

“Right there, baby. Such a good boy. Make me cum all over your pretty cock.” You pressed your hand over his throat and added some pressure, watching his jaw slack and his eyes close at the feeling, his fingers now rubbing desperately at your clit.

You were close, feeling how Brian’s cock throbbed inside you when you were a bit rough with him, pressing down on his throat or nibbling the skin or grabbing his face to make his pretty eyes look right into yours. Scratching your nails down his bony chest, you came at the sound of Brian’s mewls permeating the air around you, the television just static from the storms outside.

“Fuck Brian–your cock is so perfect..fucking me so deep.” You clawed down his sternum, the remainders of your orgasm running over your body.

“Mmm I’m gonna cum–where do I–” He began, fucking into you; you had stopped your movements and Brian’s hips bucked upwards repeatedly, his mouth hung open as he felt your cum gush over his cock.

“Gonna pull out and cum all over me baby?” You urged, scratching his scalp, which only made him explode.

He began to pull out, but your nails dug into his scalp intermingled with your cunt hugging him so tightly was too much for him to handle. “Fu-I can’t. Oh God–” He whimpered as he came inside you, groans reverberating through the air as he fucked you through his orgasm, his cum spurting all over your walls and seeping down your legs due to gravity. He couldn’t stop; it was as if the devil were controlling his body and he were watching from the outside–knowing that what he was doing wasn’t a good idea, but the pleasure of feeling his cum dripping down his cock as he pulled out of you finally was earth-shattering.

You caught your breath, holding Brian’s head against your chest, his cheek against your heartbeat. He was trembling in your arms, panting over your shoulder as he gathered his fleeting composure.

“’M sorry. It felt so good I couldn’t–”

“That was so hot, baby. You’re such a good fuck.” You praised, playing with his hair. “And such a good boy.”

He blushed, feeling heady and a bit drunk from his pleasure. “Just a good fuck?”

“Wanna be more than that, baby?” You asked, throwing your arms over his bony shoulders.

He nodded, his eyes widened, still pooled in innocence, just tainted at the surface.

#brian may smut #brian may blurb

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bi-bi-richie · 5 years

Text

A Little Deadlight Never Killed Anyone ( 1 / 3 )

Richie is about to leave Derry, he's about to leave for the last time and move on. He's about to leave Eddie. But, first, he's got to carve something back into the kissing bridge he left in 1989. Little does he know that a short trip to find closure will give him everything he's ever wanted and more.

...

“Call me when you get to the airport, I just wanna make sure you’re okay.”

Richie nods, but he doesn’t take in what he’s really saying. He just does anything to make whoever is touching him go away. Does anything to be alone. The hand leaves his shoulder and Richie knows that it’s his queue to leave. He clutches the sling of his duffle bag and starts walking towards the door. If he was thinking clearly, he would’ve said goodbye or even hugged someone, but Richie doesn’t think he’ll be thinking clearly for a very, very long time.

Besides, he’s got somewhere to be now.

It was a warm day in Derry, most days in Derry were but this day just felt lighter. Like the air has cleared and people living there could finally breathe. Kids were rushing outside to play in their front yards and, for once, nobody felt afraid to lose them. Years from now, people would look back on it and think of it as the most peaceful summer they ever had despite the children who went missing right as it started. It was strange, but the missing children would soon be forgotten, just as they always were in Derry. Guess you can’t take the town’s nature away just as easily as you can take out the monster haunting it.

Nice days still had to end at some point, though, and that’s why Richie Tozier was slowly zipping up his black duffle bag and giving the room he had stayed in one final look before he shut the door. There was no happiness in Richie’s eyes, he was the polar opposite of the entire town but not all that different from the families who lost their children. Richie didn’t lose a kid, but he lost the love of his life. In his own crowded and complicated mind, Richie thought to himself, yeah, that’ll do shit to you.

Richie slowly padded down the stairs and looked down to see the faces of four of his friends. They all smiled at him, sympathy smiles no doubt, but smiles. Richie tried to smile back, but he couldn’t find it in him to do anything beyond the slow walking he was doing. How he was going to actually drive a car to the airport was beyond him. He wanted to smile back, he really did, but all he could think about was the two faces that should’ve been there and weren’t there. The two faces he lost despite not even remembering them for twenty-seven years.

“Will you be okay?” Someone asks, Richie doesn’t look up to see but the softness of the voice makes him think it was Beverly. Beverly. The girl who gets to go with her love, hand in hand with Ben and about to kiss Derry goodbye for the last time. The girl that Richie was beyond bitter and jealous of no matter how hard he tried not to be. He knows he should feel happy for her, and, truth be told, he really does, but he can’t shake the thought of why can’t that be me? From his head.

Richie shrugs and doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t meet anyone’s eyes and, lucky for him, everyone decides to stop trying to meet his. When Richie finally steps off the stairs, he feels a hand rest on his shoulder then another voice. Mike’s voice? Maybe Bill’s.

“Call me when you get to the airport, I just wanna make sure you’re okay.”

Besides, he’s got somewhere to be now.

…

His carving was faded now, it was still readable but it was faded, but Richie could never forget where it was. He pulled his car over and took a deep breath before grabbing the swiss army knife he kept in the glove compartment. He padded over to the spot on the bridge slowly but with more enthusiasm than he did in front of the losers. He saw the carving immediately and smiled softly to himself, the memory of how he felt when he carved it, but his smile fell when he realized that Eddie would never get to see it.

Richie started carving it back in then, hoping that in some way, Eddie could see what he made. What he put there for him. Something that could never leave this world, unless, god forbid, someone would take down the bridge. But seeing as the bridge still works as well as it does the day it was built, and the laziness of Derry, something tells Richie it’ll be there for a very long time.

Richie felt tears welling up in his eyes as he finished carving the E in Eddie’s name and pulled back to look at what he had done. He almost sobbed, but he didn’t know who was around. With shaky hands, he pulled two fingers to his lips and pressed a kiss against them, then he pressed those two fingers against Eddie’s initial. How he was going to get along? He wasn’t sure now.

He started to back up then, getting ready to start accepting that this was his life now. He had lost the love of his life, where does someone even go after that? How does someone recover? What does that entail? How does he even start? He was asking so many questions in his head, and they were all so loud, he almost missed the cry from the water below the bridge.

“Guys!?” The voice cried. But not just a voice, a familiar voice. One that made Richie’s heart twist and his stomach drop.

“Richie! Bill! Beverly! Mike! Ben- someone! Somebody, please answer me!”

Richie looked down then and saw a sewer covered arm emerge from the bushes, it made Richie jump but he didn’t run like he would if it was the clown. Oh god, please don’t let it be the clown.

Then a whole body appeared. A man covered in sewer shit and bruises with a patch on his right cheek came out of the bushes. He was scared, frantically searching for any signs of something familiar because he was so obviously lost. He didn’t meet Richie’s eyes yet, but it didn’t take a genius to know what was going on.

It was Eddie.

Richie didn’t give it a second thought, he quickly jumped the fence (and somehow ignored the ache in his whole body after going up against an “eater of worlds”) and recklessly tumbled down the rocky hill.

“Eddie!” He cried out, loud enough to make the boy finally turn his head. Eddie’s face was filled with hope when he heard the voice then flooded with relief. He started running, well, run-limping, towards Richie with his arms stretched out. He might’ve been tearing up, but Richie wouldn’t know because his vision was already clouded by his own tears.

“Richie!” Finally, the two collided into each other’s arms. The hug was desperate, Eddie immediately threw his head into Richie’s shoulder, and even though Richie sort of wanted to do that too, he didn’t mind. He must’ve gone through hell. But, come to think of it, how the fuck was he here?

“Y-You died,” Richie choked out, he really underestimated how fucked his voice would be. “Eddie you died! How’re you here?”

Eddie pulled his head off of Richie’s shoulder and frantically shook his head, he was heaving for air but surprisingly maintaining it in a way that he hasn’t in years. For a short moment, Richie felt fear strike his heart at the idea of Eddie not being Eddie. For a short moment, he thought that maybe this could be the clown. But they killed the clown and Eddie was looking up at him with doe eyes that Richie just knew Pennywise couldn’t manage. It was Eddie. It had to be Eddie.

“The- The deadlights, Richie… I was caught in the deadlights.”

…

They were sitting in Richie’s still parked car on the side of the road. Eddie had thrown on one of Richie’s shirts, in any other situation, he would’ve swooned at the sight of it. Well, okay, he still is right now. Richie knew he had to get Eddie somewhere to clean up, hell, Richie still needed to call the losers but right now he wanted to know everything about what happened and how the fuck he missed his best friend running off and getting trapped for the entirety of the fight.

“Okay, explain it to me.”

Eddie shifted uncomfortably and sighed. “After the three doors, when you and I were standing there watching that fucking clown, I saw something behind us. I turned to see it but then everything went… went wrong. Everything around me was black, I couldn’t see you, or the losers, or the clown. I thought I was screaming, but I guess something else was happening. Eventually, I hit a wall or something, when I looked up I saw them. Three lights… Shit, Richie, I was so scared. It was so fucking bright I could barely see anything at all.”

Richie didn’t realize he was holding his breath until he sharply took one in. Logically, he knew this had to have a happy ending, Eddie was sitting right next to him and he wasn’t dead so something was about to go right, it still hurt to hear though.

“Then I saw him,” Eddie’s face shakily turned into a bright smile that melted Richie’s heart. “I saw Stanley.”

…

“Hi, Mike?” Richie spoke into his phone, “yeah it’s Richie. Yes, I’m feeling better, no, I’m not out of Derry.”

Eddie smiled from beside Richie, it was a shy smile, a quick glance then he’d look away but always turn back to do it again. A smart person would notice that he’s admiring him, not in a brotherly way, no that’s not right at all. He’s admiring him, he’s gazing at him, he’s lo-

“Yes, we’ll meet up at the quarry, I’ll tell you what’s up when we get there. Okay, bye.”

Richie pressed the end call button on his phone, then he turned to Eddie and smiled at him, “he likes to talk huh?”

Eddie laughed and nodded. They fell into a short silence then, a comfortable one but they knew that both of them still had questions. Still had things left unsaid. Eddie turned his head to look back out the window to look at the bridge and all the carvings on it. He read as many as he could see, then he noticed the sunlight bouncing off the blade of a knife that laid in the grass. Eddie wondered if anyone else was there, if anyone else saw Richie climb over the fence or saw them hugging. Then he saw it.

“Richie…?” Eddie said in a voice barely above a whisper.

“What’s up, Eds?” Richie responded, he looked up from his phone, probably reading text messages from his manager. He was doing that, actually. His manager had actually left a few bat-shit crazy messages demanding to know “what the fuck is going on” with Richie. Richie didn’t respond to any, he didn’t really want to talk to anyone besides Eddie. And, ever since Eddie’s comment about knowing that Richie didn’t write his own material, he hasn’t really been in the mood to be talking to the people who come up with his fake humor.

“Why were you here?”

Richie gasps at that, truth be told, he completely forgot he came here to redo the carvings. Though, seeing the man you love who you also saw die walking around is bound to make you forget a few things.

“There’s no roads out of Derry around here and you were leaving, weren’t you?”

Richie felt his throat go dry, “it’s just… It’s nothing Eds, I swears it.”

Eddie narrowed his eyes, “so that knife on the floor doesn’t belong to you?”

Richie looked over Eddie’s shoulder and cursed himself, of course he forgot the evidence. Then his heart sank as he realized that Eddie couldn’t have missed what was written above it. He had to of seen it, it was obvious and fresh in the wood. He looked back to Eddie with panicked eyes and immediately started thinking of the thousand different ways he could apologize or play this off.

“I’m gay.” He said instead.

Eddie raised his eyebrows in shock, like that was not at all what he was expecting his friend to say. Richie’s eyes went wider (if that was possible), “okay well- no I’m bi- wait no- shit. Okay, listen-”

He took a deep breath and shut his eyes, you’ve got this Tozier, just breathe. Then he opened his eyes and saw Eddie’s hopeful, yet confused ones.

“ImbiandIvelovedyousincewewerekidsbutIcouldntsayanythingandImstillintheclosetandIreallydidntthinkyoudseethisbecauseyouresupposedtobedeadbutnowyouveseenitsofuck.”

Eddie blinked, then he blinked again, and again. Well, what else could Richie expect considering he basically just vomited his feelings all over the place in the most incoherent way possible.

“You’re bisexual.”

Richie nods.

“You’re not out of the closet.”

Richie nods.

“You love me.”

Richie pauses, then he nods.

Eddie doesn’t react for a second, then his face splits into the widest smile Richie swears he’s ever seen. Before Richie can even react, Eddie’s throwing his arms around his neck and pulling him into a bruising kiss. Richie is so shocked he almost doesn’t react, but he’s not going to let this moment slip through his fingers, never ever again. He kisses Eddie back and it feels like magic, better than magic, it just feels perfect.

Eddie pulls away and smiles at Richie, “I love you too.”

Richie lets out a breathless giggle and goes in for another kiss and, of course, Eddie wouldn’t dream of stopping him. When they pull away, Eddie rests his forehead against Richie’s and they just breathe. It’s all Richie could’ve ever wanted. Then Eddie breaks the silence.

“I love you so much,” he whispers, “but I’m actually filthy, can we go somewhere with a shower now?”

Richie barks out a laugh and nods his head. It’s okay that they don’t get to kiss for much longer, there’s time for that later because nobody (and he really means nobody) will ever take Eddie away again.

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #it chapter 2 spoilers #my writing

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thoughtfullyyoungduck · 5 years

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Not complete until there’s three

A/N: for some reason I did something and now I had to re-upload this so yeah

Summary: Mike’s call brings back some memories for Stan, more specifically memories about Stan and Richie. Stan is in for a rough awakening when he comes back to Derry and finds out Richie and Bill are married.

The last thing Stanley Uris would ever want to do, is go back to Derry. He doesn’t want to, so he’s not going too. Those are the thoughts that are rumbling through his brain as his forces out a ‘I’ll be there’ to Mike before turning down the phone.

For a second he sits frozen, he’s absolutely terrified and he feels it throughout his entire body, like taking a cold shower. The voice of his wife is what snaps him out of it, a graceful, soft sound that he loved listening to up until 5 seconds ago, but now makes the bile rise up in his throat.

He drives himself to turn to her with a smile on his face, he’s perfected the art of doing this, pretending that everything’s okay while an internal storm is going on.

He stand quietly, but not before announcing that he is going to take a bath. He walks past his wife, to reach into the cabinet where they keep the towels, because he knows that’s what his wife expects him to do, and begins walking up the stairs. He’s going to take a bath, only he doesn’t. The only way to get to the bathroom is by going through the light green bedroom, which is always indescribably neat, and stops as his hand is already around the doorknob.

He turns around and glances over to the closet. The one where he tried to bury a sad and uncomfortable feeling. He backtracks until he is standing in front of it, and He quietly reaches out. He knows exactly how far he’s allowed to pull the closet door, before it makes a creaking sound that is heard all the way down to the living room, which isn’t much, but he doesn’t need to look to find what he’s looking for. When he retreats his hand, he’s a holding a picture, one that he found a couple years ago, only back then the picture made him feel such an intense love and sadness all at once, that he placed it on the bottom of his closet, with his shoes to cover it up.

He couldn’t remember who was in the picture, he could recognize himself, that much he knows. But there were two other boys with him, one with black unruly hair and glasses so big it was like they were magnitude glasses, and a boy with short brown-reddish hair who was wearing a flannel that seemed to big even for him. The guy with the glasses was spread out across Stan’s leg and the other boy, while Stan had a hand in his hair, and the other boy that was sitting up was looking at him fondly.

Stan had his head on the shoulder of the boy in flannels, who in turn had his arm wrapped around Stan. All 3 of them were shining brightly. Stan knew this picture was taking somewhere around his high school days, knew only because he knows for a fact that he threw away the t-shirt he was wearing, right when he left for college. He didn’t even remember why he threw it away, but it hurt to look so he didn’t keep it. Only now, with Mikes call, does he remember that the shirt was Bill’s and he had given it to Stan someday after lunch because he had a spare in his locker, and Richie had accidentally dunked his entire coke on Stan’s. No, Stanley Uris couldn’t remember for the life of him who these boys were, but right now, he breath hitched and while tracing the boy’s faces he let out their names as a sigh, ‘Bill, Richie’.

He took a step out on his balcony, which was also connected to their bedroom, and took a few stuttering breaths. He didn’t want to go back to Derry, didn’t want to fight a goddamn child eating clown, but know that he remember his two high school lovers, he couldn’t stand the thought of not seeing them again. He wondered if they felt the same way when Mike had called, and if each of the losers had their own identity crisis at the moment.

Stan knew that he wasn’t straight, he had gone on dates with boys, but nobody even gave him a slightly good impression, so it always stayed with one date. He liked girls too though, and he had met Patty. And Stan was satisfied, had been living a content live with Patty, only know he knows how big his heart had once been filled with love for his boys, he knew he could never be content with Patty again. He couldn’t live his life like that anymore. Maybe that was the reason he decides to skip his bath time, something he hadn’t done in 20 years, packed his suitcase and left for Derry

It seemed that Stan really was the only with an identity crisis after getting called. At least the only one out of the three old lovers. Stan had been late, the last one to arrive from the losers, but coming in his vision latched on to Richie and bill’s hands straight away. They were holding hands. He tried to make it discreet yet he couldn’t help but look at their hands every few seconds, while saying hello to the other losers. He got to Bill and Richie last, and shared an awkward hug and a hello with both of them. He wondered if the remembered their relationship, and if that was the reasons they were standing so closely together, almost like they were one person.

Stan pointedly ignored the slice of jealousy that rips through him, trying to suppress the feeling as fast as he can. He feels embarrassed by it, two days ago he didn’t even remember them, and now all he wants is for to kiss them again, to feel his skin connect with theirs, even though he never had that urge with Patty, and to feel Richie grab his hands again like they always did when they were younger. To have bill kiss him on the cheek and then blush about it while giving Stan a cheeky but bright smile. He focuses back on the losers telling their story and zones back in when Eddie starts talking.

“And what about you guys?” He ask Bill and Richie

“Any special person in your life Richie?” Eddie smirks, the way he always did when he and Richie used to tease each other, the way he knows Eddie is taunting Richie and trying to start a play fight. Instead of this happening, and Richie taking the bait, Richie smiles a little shy.

He smiles in a way Stan has almost never seen Richie do, only when he was alone with Bill and himself, and the moment Richie looks up from the corner of his eyes to Bill, Stan knows what’s coming. The look is barely noticeable for anyone, but Stan has always been observant. He sees Bill give a quick nod of his head, and then turns away himself, he feels his heart break before he even hears the words.

If only he had been observant enough to see Bill and Richie looking over his way, with longing in their eyes.

“Actually”, Richie starts, “me and big Bill have been married for 5 years’.

The way he says it, so casually and full of love, causes Stan to grip his thighs so tightly it hurts, a habit he’s had since he was little. He wants to run out of the room, to cry, to scream or to break something, it doesn’t even matter, he just wants to get away from them. From the feeling of being split apart. Stan hates this, he hates feeling like his not in control of his own emotions. It was one of the many things he has always prided himself in, and the only thing Richie and Bill ever tried to ‘change’ in him. They had said they just wanted him to enjoy every little thing of a moment, without having to worry about how he might look, or which emotion would shine through.

In a way, he’s happy for them. At least they found each other, where happy with one another, and Stan feels like he should be ecstatic for them, only he isn’t. Not in the way he should be at least. Still though, he focuses all of his attention on keeping his face in a straight line, making sure that none of the tell-tales he displays when he is jealous are showing.

‘We met about 7 years ago, well I guess that isn’t really accurate, we saw each other again 7 years ago, during a comedy evening Richie was in.’ Bill starts his explanation, looking at Richie with adoration in his eyes. Their hands were now linked on the table, and Stan wonders if their hand still feel the same.

‘I saw this awesome stud in the crowed and thought; hey, this guy I want to fuck.’

Bill hits Richie shoulder, without much menace behind it, the embarrassed smile on his face taking away any last doubt that he had meant the hit to be hurtful.

Eddie groans while the rest of the losers laugh, and Stan realizes he should be doing something else that just sitting with a straight face.

He forces an easy smile on his face, as he turns to look at Bill and Richie. Both of them were already looking at him. There’s something in their eyes, an emotion, but Stan doesn’t remember them well enough, hasn’t know them long enough, to decipher it.

He sees Bev look at him though, and the look in her eyes he recognizes, it’s not pity, but it’s something close too. Back when they were still kids, Bev was his go to person for relationship advice. He didn’t like to open up about his feeling to anyone, but Bev always made him feel like everything he felt was valid and she made him feel loved too.

He smiles wider back at her, and this time it’s genuine. He really loved Bev too, just like every other loser here.

“So Stan, how have you been doing?” Bill asks while taking a huge gulp of his beer that’s on the table. His voice has a hard edge, but Stan chooses to ignore it.

He thinks back to him putting his suitcase is his trunk, while Patty ran after him in haste. He thinks of her crying and grabbing his face, trying to get her to kiss him, but him turning his face away. He had wanted to be honest about everything to her, he really did love Patty, just not as much as he has ever loved Richie and Bill, but he was sure she wouldn’t, couldn’t understand him, so he had lied. He told her that he had fallen in love with someone else, that nothing happened, he hadn’t cheated on her, but he couldn’t keep up the facade and the lies anymore either.

She had begged some more, tried telling him that it was just a rough patch they were going through, and that they could get couples counselling, but Stan told her that he loved her too much to do that to her. Then he had start the car and left their life behind.

He had put his wedding ring in his pocket, and had laughed. In 27 years, Stanley Uris had never done anything he hadn’t extensively thought through, but now he just had.

He thinks back to those moments, and the ring in his pocket that seemed to be dragging him down now, and wonders what his answer should be.

He makes eye contact with Beverly, and it seems that in the 20 years they forgot about each other, Beverly can still read him like an open book.

She opens her mouth to say something, but before she can, Stan opens his.

‘I’ve been married for 10 years’. He doesn’t know why he said it. Especially since his marriage was over, by his own choice. Maybe he said it because Stan and Bill are still holding each other’s hands. Maybe it’s because he desperately doesn’t want t come across as desperate, how ironic that may sound. He doesn’t want them to think he wants to get in the way of their relationship. Bill and Richie are married now for god sake, and that changes everything. Stan is no longer a part of their relationship, and he want to make it clear to Bill and Richie that he know that.

‘Her names Patty, she’s Jewish as well, and she’s a kindergarten teacher’. Stan continuous. His eyes are drawn by the hand of Bill and Richie tightening together, but he won’t let it deter him.

‘Cool’, Richie says, but his voice sounds strained, like he’s pushing the words out of his throat instead of just talking.

Eddie sees his former best friend struggling and jumps in for him.

‘That’s really nice Stan, I’m glad your happy.’ He gives Stan a small nod, because even with as little as he remembers, he know his best friend, and their leader were head over heals for Stan, and just by seeing the way they’re looking at him, he knows that hasn’t changed.

Stan bitterly takes a bite from his spring roll, he hates how greasy it is, but he doesn’t want to talk anymore. He isn’t happy anymore now that he know of Bill and Richie.

He suddenly feels extremely tired, he want to go home, or his hotel room, at this point he doesn’t even care anymore. His life just turned completely upside down, and he’s just now realizing it. Why did he come here again?

He fork pauses on the way to his mouth, he suddenly remembers the painted lady, closing in on him, eerily getting closer and closing her gaping mount around his face.

‘Stan’, a panicked voice calls out again.

Stan startles into awareness, realizing that everyone was looking at him. His hand is shaking badly. His spring roll already dropped back on the plate. Bill, who sits closest to him reaches out to him, presumably to grab his hand and hold in his, but Stan quickly drops his hand down and Bill’s falters before returning to his side too. He looks sad.

‘Why did you bring us back here Mike’? He asks. Even he hears his voice is monotone, and to people who don’t know him it may sound like he doesn’t care. The reality is that he cares so much, feels so much fear, that he shuts every feeling, and everyone out.

Everyone’s gazes drift over to Mike’s who looks guilty. ‘We didn’t stop it, 27 years ago. The killings are happening again, and we made a vow’. While Mike is talking, a waitress puts fortune cookies on the table waling away with a smile on her face, if only she knew what they ware talking about.

‘Pennywise’, Beverly breaths out, panic lacing in her voice as she frantically looks around her.

Stan sees Eddie reach for his inhaler, trying to breath more easily. Stan idly wonders if he should too, considering it doesn’t feel like he’s getting any air.

Before Bill gets a chance to open his mount, on of the fortune cookies springs alive. A shrieking sound emits from it as it breaks open and a small, dying bird pops out of it. Instantly Stan spring back running toward the back of the room, trying to get as far away from whatever it is.

He sees the others do the same, Bill running in the same direction as Stan did.

‘Hey you guys, this fortune cookie is looking at me’. Richie’s voice sounds as panicked as Stan feels.

Another fortune cookies falls of the platter, and ends up right in front of Stan and Bill. Stan wants to reach for Bill’s hand, he’s so terrified that for a moment it wouldn’t even matter if Richie saw, he just needs Bill or Richie to help him. Before he can though the fortune cookie breaks open, revealing a tooth. Stan knows that sort of tooth. He stared right down at it when She was biting his face off. When he was looking in the deadlights.

He tumbles down to ground gasping. He can’t do this, he should have never come back to this town. He shrieks, just like did all those years ago, and stars to crawl backwards as much as he can no other sane thought in his head but; get away, get away.

‘Stan, stan look at me’, he hears a shrill voice, laced with overflowing worry and terrifying fear. Hands force his face to make eye contact with someone. It’s bill, and he’s trying to block out Stan sight of the cookie, of everyone losing their minds and mike attacking the table with a chair.

‘Look at me Stan, breath, it’s not real okay, it’s not real’. Bill swipes his thumb over cheekbones, and for a second Stan can pretend that he could reach up and kiss Bill if he wanted to, that he could call out and Richie would come sprinting to see if everything was alright.

The noise dies down and Stan can’t see anything move anymore, so he assumes Pennywise decided to let them suffer for a few more days before killing them.

He faintly hears the waitress and Richie’s warm voice before Richie too is sitting next to Bill, and is grabbing his hand. Bill still hasn’t stopped the soothing movements.

‘You alright there Stan the man, you look kinda pale’. Richie jokingly says, but even Stan can hear the tremble in his voice.

It’s the nickname that makes Stan snap though. He pulls his head away from Bill’s hands and pushes Richie easy from him a little before standing up and brushing of his pants.

He glares, and stumbles for a moment, the anger shooting through his body like it’s unwoven with his blood.

Stan the man was the nickname Richie had always called him, but once Bill, Richie and Stan started dating, Richie, when using the nickname, always said Stan our man. Only now Stan isn’t a part of this relationship anymore.

He can’t for the life of him figure out why he came back here. Was it so he could hurriedly see Bill and Richie? And then what? Get his heart broken? Maybe it was because he wanted to die? God dammit why couldn’t he just not have remembered. He would have stayed with Patty, and he would’ve been okay with that. Instead he might die here, he’s getting a divorce, and the boys he loved have moved on, together.

He glanced at Bill and Richie, both of them looking shocked at Stan’s outbursts, as if they were expecting him to stay in his panic much longer.

He looked towards his other friends too. Ben, Eddie, Mike and Bev. He loved them so much too, he wanted to protect them, to make sure they were happy but god dammit he couldn’t do this. He wasn’t strong enough too.

‘Fuck this’, he spewed out before grabbing his coat and walking to the exit.

‘Stan wait, where are you going?’

He could hear the losers following him, trying to figure out his plan, but he didn’t care, it wasn’t too late to live his content live, so that what he was going to do.

‘Stan please, just tell us what you’re gonna do?’, Beverly’s voice cries out.

Stan turned in a flash nearly shouting now, he had never felt such an intense rage before.

‘Home, that’s where, I’m going home. I’ll going to go see my wife, do lay job and I’m going to live, I’m sorry if you want help trying to kill it but Clearly that’s not working out for us now is it.’

‘Stan please, just please we need to defeat IT, think of our promise’. Mike is begging, and Stan thinks he might be minutes away from actually getting down on his knees. Still Stan doesn’t relent.

‘I’m sorry Mike, but I’m not strong like you guys, I have to get out of here’. Stan turn around again to get to his car.

‘Stan’s right, I’m leaving too’. He hears Richie say, but it doesn’t make him turn around.

‘Me too’, Eddie replies.

‘Wait’. Another voice cries out. It’s Bill. Stan feels his hands falter, not looking back at Bill, but also not getting in his car.

‘Can we please just sleep on it for one night? If you guys still want to leave in the morning then we can go. Just we’re all tired and we need to get some rest. Then we can all decide how we’re approaching this.’

Stan wants to leave so bad, but then he mulls Bill’s words over in his head. It’s not even because he’s in love with Bill that makes him want to listen, it’s just that Bill is their leader, and Stan has always looked up to him in that way.

‘Stan’, Bill’s voice sounds soft, asking a question without really asking it. ‘Please’.

Stan sighs, but he still doesn’t turn around.

‘Fine you lead the way to the hotel, I’ll follow one of you’.

First thing in the morning, he’s out of this god forsaken town.

He leaves in the morning, before any of the others are up yet. He knows he promised Bill that they would talk about this, but there’s nothing that’s keeping him here.

He barely slept, he kept overthinking every little thing that happened. When they got to the hotel he went straight to his room, and locked the door before any of the losers could say something else.

To make things worse, his room was just across Richie and bill’s, to prolong his suffering. He could hear someone stand in front of his door in the middle of the night, but he kept himself as quit as possible, and after about 5 minutes of the person hovering, they left.

When they were kids, whenever one of the them was scared, the losers would all sleep in the same room. They would watch a comedy and eat junk food, and Stan was sure that that’s what they were doing now, but he didn’t have it in himself to go and check.

At around 5:30 Stan walks out of the hotel entrance, with a leather bag in his hands, and heads for his car. He takes a look around the parking lot, because he can still feel the terrifying, numbing fear of seeing pennywise the day before, but he doesn’t see anything. He quickly gets in the car, and drives away before he can change his mind.

This is fine, he thinks too himself as he drives away. It’s fine, He’s going to go home to Patty, fix things, clean his house and keep up his routine. It’s fine because he has done his all throughout his adult life, it’s what’s expected from him. He’s going back to Atlanta, and he’s going to live the rest of his life in peace. It’s fine, but it really isn’t.

He wishes that even when he was a kid, he had never started dating Bill and Richie. If he never dated them, then maybe his feelings for them wouldn’t have burned so bright, every other love he has ever felt seems like coal in comparisons. He’s violently drawn out of his thoughts by an upcoming danger on the road. Before Stan has a chance to see what it is, he’s brain realizes he should swerve, so he does. He forcefully turns his steering wheel, and because of it, his car starts slipping. His foot crashing on the brake pedal, even though Stan logically knows that not what he should do.

His car comes to a stop, but not before flying of the road and into a three on the side, right before the sign that says Welcome to Derry.

Stan’s head hit the control panel harshly, and Stan gives himself two minutes to catch his breath while a small streams of blood drips over his forehead, before realizing he almost hit something, or someone. As soon as the thought formulates he jumps out of the car and runs back to the road, desperate to see if he managed to avoid the person or thing. When he gets to the road he sees a body laying there, and the figure, is not moving.

Stan’s breath hitch and he nearly passes out for a second, but then he sprints forward and drops to his knees. For once, he’s not worried about the dirt on his knees. He reaches out to person, and promptly feels his heart fall to his stomach. It’s Bill.

‘Bill, what wait, Bill what the hell were you doing here’. His voice sounds frantic, and he’s pulling Bill up by his shoulders, placing him in his lap and starts shaking him.

‘Bill please, wake up, come on open your eyes for me. Somebody help me.’ He screams out, but there’s nobody on the road, and the adults in Derry have been known to avoid people when the most need it.

‘Stan.’ A confused voice calls out to him. Stan turns around and meets the eyes of Richie. He looks mostly confused as to why Stan’s screaming, until his sees the body that Stan is now cradling in his arms.

His eyes grow wide, and the next time he speaks, his voice sounds distraught.

‘Bill, oh my god Bill.’ He lunches forward and takes Bill body unto his own arms, roughly pushing Stan away.

‘Bill come on baby don’t leave me. I love you.’ Stan only then realizes that Bill has yet to take any breath, nor does move even the slightest.

‘Richie, I’m…’ Stan’s voice cracks, and he isn’t sure how he’s supposed to continue.

The tears start streaming down his face, and sobs are threatening to escape. He couldn’t have killed Bill, he loved him, God he LOVED Bill, just like he loved Richie.

Suddenly Richie’s head shoots up, his glare set on Stan.

‘You did this, you killed him.’

Stan doesn’t know how to respond. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. I didn’t see him coming.’ Stan is trying desperately to explain, but it does little to soften Richie’s glare.

‘Why did you kill me, Stan.’ Startled Stan looks down at Bill, and sees that Bill’s eyes are now opened, and Bill was the one that had spoken.

He feels hysteria building up in his chest. ‘Bill, I, what?”

‘Yeah, Stan why? Was it because we decided to go on without you? Because we realized you were too weak for us?’ Richie spits out. He’s no longer crying or looking distressed, instead he has a mean smirk on his face.

‘you should’ve just killed yourself Stan, like you were planning on doing in the first place’.

Stan jumps back, he had no idea what’s going on, but he knows that neither Bill nor Richie would ever say that to him. Both of them were too kind to do any of that stuff. Which means that this could only mean one thing.

Stan scrambles back up and steps back, continuing to look at fake Bill and Richie. He takes several steps back, but they don’t do anything except for smirking at him.

‘Come on, Stanley’, Pennywise’s contorted voice comes out, the bodies of Richie and Bill forming into one figure. ‘You know it to be true, Bill nor Richie love you anymore, and since you left so soon, why couldn’t you have just killed yourself?’

Stan shakes his head, yet he knows it’s useless, he already thinks to things, otherwise Pennywise wouldn’t have brought them up. In the blink of an eye the clown is suddenly right in front of him, and Stan lets out a yelp before jumping backwards, but pennywise clearly anticipated this, as he just grabs Stan by the neck and lifts him up. IT grins, more terrifying that Stan remembers from his childhood, before opening his mouth, and Stan knows exactly what’s coming. He struggles as hard as he can, but even he knows it’s in vain. In no time, Stan is looking down the throat of Pennywise, staring straight into the deadlights.

A voice in the back of his mind that sounds vaguely like Bill and Richie combined yelling to fight back, to stand up for himself, only Stan is already to tired, so he just let’s himself float. He floats, right back towards the nightmare he just lived through, over and over again.

The same goddamn words come out of pennywise mouth again. Stan isn’t sure how much longer he can do this, stuck in this constant loop of terror. He thought that he would finally die from heartbreak at some point, but he didn’t. He always saw the same thing, the only difference was that sometimes he hit Bill, and other times he hit Richie.

He wasn’t sure how long he was stuck in this bizarre place, but he does know that after an immense long time, he’s starting to get feeling back in his legs. It’s weird but the entire time he was on the deadlights, he felt like he was soaked in ice cold water, but now it feels like his legs are submerged in an amazing, hot temperature water. The feeling spreads through his chest, up his neck and ends up warming his face.

‘Stan, Stanley come on. Fight it, Stan. You got to fight him.’ He hears someone call out to him, but he can’t place the voice. He interprets the words though, and even though he is really confused and doesn’t really know what’s happening, he does what the voice tells him.

‘that’s it Stan, you can do this. You’re stronger than you think.’ It’s another voice, one Stan can’t place directly either, but he basks in the warmth of the voice, and the safety he feels that comes with it.

He hears more voices calling out to him, calling out his name. He tries so hard, and he thinks about giving up until he in a split second, it feels like the weight that was pushing him down had been lifted. finally Stan is able to open his eyes, and take in his surroundings.

He is laying with his head on someone’s lap, and when he looks up, he sees Richie’s terrified eyes looking down on him. Instantly, he recalls those eyes staring back with fury, because he killed Bill. Stan jumps up, frantic to get away from those eyes. He crawls back until his back hit’s another person’s body and sags down unto it, once the familiar smell of anti-septic whips hit his nostrils, undeniably save and Eddie. Eddie wraps his arm around Stan, and Stan would bet money on it that Eddie is recalling the first time this happened, back when Stan had been alone too.

‘I’m sorry.’ Stan sobs out. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t mean to hurt Bill I swear. I love him and I love you and I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry’. He’s looking at Richie the entire time, straight in his eyes, and he can see the shift from terrified, to confused, to empathetic.

‘Stan.’ Another person’s voice calls out. Stan nearly causes whiplash because he turns his head so fast. Bill is hovering around him, turning his palms up towards him, in a gesture that says I’m unarmed. ‘Stan it’s a-a-alright. Whatever the clown showed you it wasn’t real.’

Bill says it was so much confidence, and Stan feeds off it. He needs reassurance right now, he needs to believe everything is gonna be alright. Richie had a timid smile on his face, and his eyes, just like Bill’s, scream love for him.

‘It is though.’ Stan replies voice so utterly small and destroyed. Eddie starts to shake his head, Stan can feel it, but Stan rips away from Eddie before he can say anything. He needs to say this to Richie and Bill before he never get’s a chance too.

‘You’re together and that’s great, I’m happy for you. But I can’t breath when I see you, because ever since Mike called all I can think about kissing the both of you, and touching you any ways I can. And I know I can’t have that which is why it breaks my heart every time I see you guys together.’ Stan is sputtering around his words, but he doesn’t stop the take a break, he needs to say this, he needs to get it off his chest.

‘That isn’t fair Stan, you’re married’. Richie responds. He and Bill have gotten closer, while Eddie ran to help their other friends, who had called out for a them a few other times. It seemed like the three of them were in a small bubble, unaware of what was happening outside of it.

Bill opens his mouth to interject, but Stan beats him too it. ‘I left her.’

Bill’s mouth shut with an audible click. Both him and Richie looking bewildered. ‘I remembered you guys as soon as I got Mike’s call, and I couldn’t lie to her about my feelings. Once I remembered you, I knew I could never love a person again as much as I loved you guys. We’re not officially divorced yet, I didn’t have time for that but, I will soon.’

‘Stan’, Bill says hopeful, and it makes Stan look up to him. ‘Me and Rich, we, god we were going to get a divorce too.’ Stan blinks once, twice before looking up at Richie who picks up where Bill left off.

‘We were happy, but it was always like it wasn’t enough you know? Like we couldn’t fill a void that was there no matter how hard we tried. We figured that it was because we didn’t love each other enough. We realized, after Mike called, that it was you that we were missing. That it was because you weren’t there, that we didn’t feel whole either.’

Stan feels something blossom in his chest, a feeling of hope. ‘You guys aren’t just saying this right? Because you need to be honest with me if you guys were fine on your own, so I can.’

Before Stan can say something Bill reaches forward, and kisses Stan on the lips. Stan freezes for a second, before shooting in action and clinging to Bill’s shirt while kissing back feverishly. He wonders again how he could ever have thought he was content with Patty, when he missed this every day. He breaks away with Bill to catch his breath, but then he sees Richie staring at them with a blush on his cheeks, and he can’t help himself. This time it’s him that reaches forward and just like that, he’s kissing Richie too.

It’s been a while so the kiss itself is awkward. Richie’s glasses are digging in his face, and he grabs Richie’s hair a little too tight, but the emotions is still wonderful. Both kisses where full of love.

When they pull away Richie kisses Bill on the lips too, and Stan can’t help but feel his heart overflow with love for both his boys.

‘We wanted to talk to you too, straight away after we remembered. Only, we didn’t think it the right time was in front of the entire group, and then you told us about your wife.’ Richie’s face screwed up as he said the word wife, ‘so we thought you didn’t want to be with us anymore, fuck we’r a bung of idiots right?’

‘Hey, this is nice and all, but can you please come and help us?’ Eddie’s yells breaks down their bubble, and after looking at each other one more time, the three boys stand up and join their friends into defeating this monster that has haunt them for their entire life.

When Stan’s hand reaches out to crush the clowns heart, along side his friends, he knows that he in that moment, he’s just as strong as all of them.

‘Richie for god sake, will you stop that please.’ From the corner of his eyes, Stan can see Bill struggling to hold in his laugh. Stan, though he would never admit it, tries his very hardest not to laugh either.

Richie was chasing Eddie holding a cup of water that was supposed to be used to water the plants, but instead is now used as an annoy Eddie device.

‘I’m not giving up Kaspbrak.’ Richie yells while speeding up a notch, while Eddie starts laughing even harder. It wasn’t hard to see why they were so close.

Stan shook his head and joined Bev, Mike and Ben around the table, and he could see Bill moving over as well. In the middle of the table in front of them stood a giant cake. The letters read; congratulation on getting a divorce. It had been Ben’s job to order the cake, and Stan could only imagine the embarrassment he must have felt when asking for it. Stan softly shook his head, he still thought this was an insane idea. Bill and Richie had decided to get a divorce, because this relationship was no longer one of just two people, and three people couldn’t legally get married. Stan hadn’t wanted them to do it, he said he was fine with just not being their husband on paper, it didn’t have to mean anything.

Richie and Bill insisted though, Stan was just as much a part of this relationship as they were. Richie dropped down on the chair next to him, still giggling slightly to himself, and grabbed Stan’s hand. A scowl appeared on his face when Richie did so, because Richie’s palm was wet and it felt absolutely disgusting. Still, when Stan tried to pull his hand away, Richie just held tighter. Bill was smiling at the both of them, so Stan put his hand on Bill’s thigh, watching his cheek darken as he did so. After defeating pennywise just 4 months ago, Bill, Richie and Stan had decided to move in with each other straight away. For obvious spacing reasons, they decided to go live in the house Bill and Richie had already occupied before remembering, but they did change the whole interior and let Stan decide what color everything should be. Neither Bill nor Richie really cared.

As Stan looked around his perfect house, with his perfect boyfriends, and the perfect friends, he could not be more glad that he had returned to Derry.

#I still don't know how to come up with a title #anyways #this is long #stenbroughzier #stenbroughzier imagine #stenbrozier #stenbrozier imagine #it imagines #it chapter two imagine #stozier #bichie #stenbrough

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social-holland · 6 years

Text

Dissolve

Pairing: Ceo!Soulmate!Tom Holland x Reader

Warning: Angst

Summary: The successful CEO and playboy Tom Holland does not expect to find his soulmate anymore after being betrayed too often. But what’s going to happen when they finally meet on a night out?

Word count: 2208

A/N: This is for @underoossss 2.4k writing challenge with the prompt “I don’t think I’m ready to be loved by you.”

“A soulmate usually only comes once in your life to shake things up, show you true love, and stand up to you in ways no one else ever has. They adore you yet challenge you to your fullest potential. A soulmate relationship isn’t only peaches and cream, it’s roses with thornes.”

It’s a rainy monday afternoon in October when Y/N entered the apartment after her daily university classes. Her roommate and best friend Parker sitting at the breakfast bar and reading the daily gossip column while enjoying his tea (how bloody british). Nothing too uncommon for Parker. He was a journalism student and just obsessed with everything that had to do with the rich and famous.

“Are they on the poor Holland guy, again?” She asked after reading the headline of the cover page. A picture of the brown-haired CEO placed under it. Next to him was quite a beautiful woman. She was just as elegant dressed as him, wearing sunglasses. Both seemed to leave some kind of hotel.

Parker flinched, nearly letting his cup fall. “Y/N! Don’t scare me like that again, Darling.” He placed it on the counter. Letting the paper fall on it as well and goes with his hand through his light brown curly hair. His green eyes watching you as she started to prepare some food for herself.

“Sorry, P.” The Y/H/C haired woman turned to smile sheepishly at him. Parker returned to his newspaper and the two continued to work on their task.

After a while Parker coughed slightly, trying to get his best friends attention. “You know, I have a great idea how to spend our daily thursday night.” Y/N turned around to him. Her eyebrows raised. “You mean going to the cinema instead of watching movies at home?” Parker groaned. “How about we go out and party for once?” He asked.

He already knew what she was going to say. His friend was never someone to go out and party. Y/N has always been a homebody and usually Parker didn’t have a problem with that.

At least not until recently. But things had changed after Parker had found his very own soulmate. It had been pure luck. He was in his last year of university when Connor walked right into one of his university classes. Ever since then not only Parker but also Y/N life had changed quite a bit.

The thing with soulmates were that there was not a special sign that would give them away like a tattoo or a touch. It was only a feeling when first meeting them. Like a buzz or like a bolt from the blue.

Once a soulmate walked into someone’s life thing were about to mix up. There was complete new feeling, a person that wanted to be worked in their life.

But the work it required was hard. Depending on the person and his/her/their character, their previous relationships and how they decided to lead their life. There was a new person that now demanded their attention and that would change everything.

Nevertheless, soulmates were bound to be together. If one of them decided to work against the other, it would give both an immense amount of pain which was often not only mentally but also physical nature.

A great concern Parker had for his best friend ever since he found Connor. Y/N was a shy but also reserved person, strong but reserved. He feared what would happen when she would meet her perfect piece. He was truly scared that she would resend that one person that could bring her the most happiness. Much like Connor brought to him.

“Parker...” Y/N wanted to complain. But her green eyed friend interrupted her. “No. Don’t try it. On thursday we are going to party in “The Box” in Soho.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, and her mouth opened. She couldn’t believe that her friend would be serious with his proposal.

“The Box” was known as cabaret club. A secretive place for famous people. To get tickets or even set a foot into was impossible if the person was not a celebrity or possessed a lot of money.

“Are you crazy? Trying to get into “The Box”. Let alone on a thursday night. You know these nights are only reserved for the elite. Shit, this club is only for elite.”

***

One of the mentioned elite members was Thomas Stanley Holland. The twenty seven year old of Holland Enterprise and one of the youngest and most successful CEO’s England had to offer.

Sitting right now together with his best friend since he was a young lad. “Mate, let’s go out tonight.” Looking from the screen he was focused on to Harrison. He was sitting on the opposite of his table, watching Tom carefully. He raised his eyebrows. “Why?”

“Because recently you spend way too much time in your office thinking about god knows what instead of enjoying your life.” The blue- eyed man teased his friend.

If he was honest with himself, he was tired of going clubbing all the time. Spending each night with a different woman who would end up meaning nothing to him.

Tom was not someone who believed in soulmates. Not anymore. People had tried to fuck him over one time too many, pretending to be his soulmate. When, in reality, he knew that there was no connection between them.

He never felt it and he was doubting to ever find “his” person.

And finding pleasure each night was soon turning boring. It was always the same. Some kind of female would not leave him alone, begging for him to spend a night with her. He would exactly do that, and they would get angry as soon as he wanted them to leave. Not understanding the meaning of a one night stand or why he would not suddenly have fallen head over heels for them, proclaiming his love. As if.

“Haz, I’m really not in the mood to go out to celebrate. To be honest, I’m tired of it.” He tried to explain to his friend.

“Don’t tell me that you finally started to believe in soulmates again?” His friend asked. Tom started shaking his head. Going through his hair with his right hand while trying to focus on the screen in front of him again. “No, I don’t. There needs to be wonder happening before I start to believe this shit again.”

“Like actually meeting her.” Harrison smirked before catching the pencil Tom had thrown at him. “It’s fine if you don’t want to go. For once you can be the loser who looks after me when I leave with a beautiful girl on my arm.” He teased his best friend before standing up to get back to his own work. “You’re a div.” Tom smiled before Harrison told him to be ready to leave at 11pm.

***

She didn’t know how but Parker had pursued her by Thursday night that they would actually go out. That Y/N was nervous was an understatement. She hated going out. A quite night in a pub with a few bottles of beer and her mates was something she enjoyed. But having to go out, having to dance and do all these social activities was something she could not handle.

Alone having to be able to get into “The Box”. She prayed silently that Parker’s promise would not work out and they would have to leave without even setting a foot into the club. But knowing Parker her hope decreased.

She was already in the process of getting ready for the night. Parker had picked out an outfit for her and he did choose well. The dress was in her favourite colour, hugging every single one of her curves perfectly. Making her look stunning. The shoes were thankfully not too high. She could easily wear them all night and get away without too much pain.

She put her hair in a high ponytail, not wanting to bother with it and put only a little bit of make-up on to enhance some of her best features. Not wanting to overdo it. Secretly hoping again that she wouldn’t get into the club for being too underdressed. But knowing Parker and his connections to this scene she would not have said luck…...

***

The party was already in full swing. People celebrating on the dance floor as the music bounced off the walls. Others were spending their money at the bar or at the exclusive VIP area, talking to each other or making out.

Parker immediately pulled Y/N to the dancefloor. That’s where their spend a while before he excused himself to go to the bathroom. To her surprise Y/N enjoyed herself, dancing with Parker for a while but was thankful for the break and getting away from the crowd for a bit. Making her way to the bar to get herself a drink and trying to catch a breath.

She gives the bartender a sign and orders a water for herself and Tequila for Parker.

“Water in a club?” The man next to her ask her. He had brownish blond hair and blue eyes. The man is quite tall, even as he sits, and wears an expensive looking suit. Y/N has an oddly feeling. She does know him from somewhere but can’t remember why he seem so familiar.

“Sorry?” She narrows her eyes at him. He offers his hand as he introduces himself. “Sorry, I’m Harrison. Harrison Osterfield.” Y/N takes his hand and realizing why he seemed familiar. Harrison was Tom Hollands assistant. She had seen him in the background of the covers Parker always read in the newspapers.

“Y/N Y/L/N” She introduced herself to the stranger. Harrison smiles at her before turning around to the man that coughs behind him. He has curly brown hair and wears a lavish blue suit. Fitting to perfection on his body, making him stand out. As she looks into his chocolate brown eyes, she recognizes Tom Holland but that’s not what’s standing out to her.

What catches her attention is the sudden feeling. The thunderbolt going through her body. It catches her unexpectantly and she is wincing because of it.

The same sensation is happening to Tom and both of their eyes widen at each other. None of them expecting to meet their soulmate at this place out of all the possibilities. Let alone meeting their soulmate at all.

Tom watches her carefully. She is utterly beautiful to him. Her Y/E/C eyes catching his attention and she looked amazing in the outfit she wore. He couldn’t stop looking at her.

Harrison now finally catching on what’s happening and starting to smile before introducing his div of a friend. “Y/N, this is my friend Tom.Tom Holland.” Taking a step back and making place for Y/N to catch a full glimpse on her soulmate.

But she was in shock state of mind. Her thoughts going wild. She is not ready. Her life didn’t needed to get mixed up by another person. Not now. For her all of this is was too fast. She must be wrong. The feeling must be wrong or the universe fucked something up. But there would be no way that Tom Holland is her soulmate. The Tom Holland.

“I-I’m sorry. Can’t do this.” Y/N eyes and body still in shock over what just happened. She grabs her bag. Panicking and trying to get out of the situation. She catches Parker eyes as she turns around, catches his hand and firmly pulls him out of the club.

“Y/N. What the hell...” Parker ask. Confused over his best friend’s sudden reaction.

Meanwhile Harrison and Tom look at each other. Trying to comprehend what just happened before Tom stands up and makes his way through the crowd, running after the girl he just met. The girl who already made his heart starting to beat faster. He was confused to say the least. Harrison was not far behind as they left the club.

Looking around before they made the pair out in the crowd. Already getting into the cab. “Y/N! Wait!” Tom yelled behind her. She turned around and looked scared into his pleading eyes. He was so close to her. His heart beating faster.

He could see how panicked she seemed and he was just as overwhelmed. But he knew they needed to talk this out. Only a few meters before he could stop the cab and they would be able to talk about what just happened.

But they only words he could make out from her, standing in front of the door of the car, were “S-Sorry. I-I-I don’t think I’m ready to be loved by you.”

He couldn’t see what happened to her after that. Vivid light started to surround him as paparazzi appeared out of nowhere and took pictures of him. Yelling at him and asking questions about the girl he just followed out of the night club. The cameras blinding him and making no place to get to her.

Part Two

#pau24kwc #tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland imagine #tom holland au #ceo!au #soulmate!au #ceo!tom #ceo!tom holland #soulmate!tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland fic #tom holland angst

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