#i just KNOW she’s a pink friday stan

[bestdadbracket]

Tentative List + propaganda

submit a parent to the form

Joel from TLOU

-he murders a whole fucking hospital for his kid.

Greg from SU

-if every porkchop were perfect we wouldn't have hotdogs

Starlo from Undertale Yellow

-awesome cowboy dad !! he (dad) and his posse (family) adopts clover (child) in game and teaches them how to be a cowboy. he even let's them be deputy for like 10 and says he's proud of clover ❤️❤️ spoilers but one notable thing is when starlo suspects that ceroba might hurt clover, starlo chases after, and has one of his posse take clover to a safer location. i don't know if this is good enough too but when having a duel with clover in genocide route he doesn't shoot them with a real bullet because he didn't have the heart to hurt them. anyways i love star dad xoxo

Arthur Lester from Malevolent

-he had a single daughter, faroe, who he inadvertently drowned when she was 4 because she was left in the bath while he was being angsty and playing piano. hes super guilty about it tho so i forgive him <3

Solazar from Friday Night Funkin: Entity

-he's an adoptive father of two sons of another species and took them in as babies, raised them to become strong and is a role model for them. his species is typically a survival focused one that doesn't associate with humanlike habits so he actively opposed his species to care for these two kids. he also has a yummy design

Benjamin Sisko from Star Trek DS9

-Okay so he's like space jesus but he's also a single father right? So he's here space jesus-ing it up while still taking care of his teenage son on this shitsack of a space station and like, his son has seen war and stuff and has travelled between universes and Ben just goes "okay Jake-o be careful and be home for dinner :)" he's so chill but he would literally die for Jake his little boy Jake because he's literally all he has left??? Space jesus and his son Jake-o, I love them dearly, and tbh I think Ben is the best dad in Star Trek, because he actually pays attention to and nurtures his son and his interests

Grunkle Stan from Gravity Falls

-he is like kind of a convicted felon but we forgive him becuz the government is stupid. he is awesome great father for dipper and mabel

Danny Tanner from Full House

-he is a pretty cool guy i guess

Joel Maisel from Marvelous Mrs. Maisel

-he is a decent dad but falls into the trap that every cishet white guy falls into of thinking he can go standup

Leto Atreides from Dune

-he is a duke and is a pretty protective guy

Vito Corleone from The Godfather

-literal mob boss guy that kills a bucnh of people to protect his family legacy

Homer Simpson from The Simpsons

-likes pink donuts

Mufasa from The Lion King

-brave lion guy who dies for his kid

Uncle Iroh from ATLA

-he loves tea and is just a great guy <3

Jim Hopper from Stranger Things

-kind of alcoholic but hes a good adoptive father

Dr. Doofenshmirtz from Phineas and Ferb

-he is a mad scientist and he is trying his best

Bob from Bob’s Burgers

-he is a bisexual king and makes burgers

Bandit from Bluey

-WE LOVE HIM SM

Darth Vader from Star Wars

-not really there for his kids but hes a cool guy

Gru from Despicable Me

-evil scientist + trying to be there

[gaybananabread]

For the Tickletober requests, maybe 16 for lee Dipper and ler Wendy? (Platonic) Hope you’re doing well and take all the time you need! 💖

Of course! I love this request, and I had fun answering it! I hope you enjoy!

☆☆☆

Lee: Dipper

Ler: Wendy

Ship: None!

Summary: During one on their movie nights, Wendy discovers something more about her best friend.

Warnings:  none! This is a tickle fic, so if you don't like that, scroll away!

It was Friday. And Friday always meant a movie night with Wendy. Since they had started to hang out, Dipper had come up with an idea to watch the crappy movies that Gravity Falls offered, together. They would spend hours laughing and poking fun at the films, and just having fun.

This Friday, they had chosen to do a comedy marathon in the Mystery Shack. The two had claimed the TV room, and the others were out working the gift shop. Belive it or not, Stan actually gave them the Friday off. Even though Stan said he did it because Dipper had 'Less friends than a squirrel with a peanut allergy', Dipper knew that he cared about him.

When Wendy arrived, the two raided the kitchen, grabbing popcorn, Pitt Cola, and a bag of Mabel's gummy koalas (don't tell her). They plopped down in front of the TV, flipping it to the Comedy Channel.

The first one was about this man's wife who got turned into a skunk. She had sprayed him, then took a tomato bath together. Both Wendy and him immediately critiqued it, making fun of the robotic voices of the actors, as well as the horrible plot line. It ended with her turning back, and the couple founding a skunk ranch.

The second started out with two animated best friends who lived in a small town. They liked to pull pranks on eachother, each one getting worse until they got out of hand. At one point, the friends had a tickle fight, and Dipper blushed a little. Whenever tickling was even mentioned around him, his cheeks flushed pink.

Wendy looked over at him, watching the blush slowly creep on his face. She put two and two together pretty quickly, wondering how she didn't notice before. Whenever she poked him to get his attention, he would flinch pretty hard. She always thought he was jumpy, but maybe it was more than that.

"Hey dude, are you ticklish?" The question surprised him, making Dipper let out a faint squeak before answering. "W-what? Pshhhh, no, I'm not tciklish! What would make you think that?"  He meant for it to sound confident, but his voice came out nervous and high.

She shrugged. "I don't know, maybe the fact that you got all squirmy and blushy when the tickle scene started?" Dang it, Dipper! Why couldn't he just sit still and watch like a normal person?!

"That doesn't mean anything! How about we watch the movie? Isn't that why we're here?" Wendy rolled her eyes. Could he be any more obvious? "Uh, no way, man. I gotta try this."

With that, Wendy grabbed the brownette's arms, not enough to hurt him, just to restrain, and pinned then above his head. He immediately started to squirm and beg, anticipatory giggles weaving into his words.

"Cohone on, Wendy! This ihisn't fair!" She scoffed. "This is perfectly fair. You lied, now it's time to pay the price." Lightly tapping her fingers on his sides, she thought about where to start. So many options, and so much time to try them! They had at least another hour, though she definitely wouldn't go that long.

Dipper shook his head, pulling down on his arms with little-to-no force. If he was being completely honest, he didn't mind the tickles. It was just the anticipation that was killing him!

"Wohohould you just doho it already?" Wendy looked down at him, taking in the wiggly sight. Dipper's face was red, spreading lighting to his ears. She giggled a bit to herself, but she was being kinda mean. Plus, he looked like he was about to explode from the waiting.

"Okay, okay. Byt remember, you literally asked for it!" She scittered her fingertips across his belly, immediately rewarded with sweet and airy giggles.

"Wehehehendy! Ihihihit- ihihihit tihickles!" He was squirming a bit more than before. She rolled her eyes. "That's kinda the point, dude." The gentle touches had already started to mush his thoughts, which made Wendy want to squish him like a teddy bear.

"Okay man, you have to admit, I just started, and you already look freakin' adorable. It must be your special gift or something." She didn't show this type of affection much, except for around her friends. She reserved her more 'girly' feelings for the people she trusted and loved.

"Nohohot adohorable! Noho teheheasing!" She moved her hands up to his ribs, switching from light touches to kneading. Dipper started to laugh, arching his back a bit. "AHAhahahahA! WeheHEhendyhy! Ohoho MYHYHY GOHOSH!"

The boy bucked his hips as she hit his top ribs, trying to dampen the ticklish shocks running throughout his torso. It did little to help, but he had to try something. Wendy stayed on that spot for a few more seconds, before beginning to move her fingers upward. His laughtrr got louder, along with his begging.

"WEHEHEndhy nohoHOho! NAHAT thehe PIHIHITS!" She stopped right before the base of said spot, swirling her fingers teasingly. Dipper giggled frantically, trying to throw her off of the spot, but just managing to give her more access to it.

"You ready?" He shook his head wildly, steams of 'no's and 'please don't's pouring out. Even though he said he wasn't having fun, she could see the giddy  excitement in his eyes. He wanted this, and she was more than happy to give it to him.

"Go!" She dug into the hollows of his pits, and he screeched,  before pulling and tugging at his arms, thrashing around like crazy. His laughter was borderline hysterical: happy, fast, and loud. This was obviously his death spot.

"Wohow, you are REALLY ticklish, dude." Wendy's little comments weren't making things any better. "IHIHIHIHI *snort* CAHAHAHAN'T! NOHAHAHAHAHO!" Wendy stopped, staring at him in playful amazement. "No way! You snort? That's so freakin' cute!"

The blushy boy tried to catch his breath, groaning and trying to hide his head in his shoulder. Wendy would definitely stop soon, she just wanted to try one more spot.

"You got enough air to not die?" Dipper groaned, making her laugh. "I'll take that as a yes." She put her hand on his neck, and he shrugged up his shoulders, letting a small stream of giggly 'no's spill from his lips. But Wendy didn't resume the tickling.

"Hey, Dipper, are you sure you're cool with this? I'll stop if you want me to." Said boy turned his head forwards, looking at Wendy. "Ihi, um-uggghhh. I don't- don't really mihind it. Youhu can- uh, you know."

He was avoiding her eyes, looking all around the room, blushing so hard, he matched the color of Stan's fuz from the neck up. She beamed at him, happy at the trust he showed in telling her that.

"You got it. One round of neck tickles comin' right up!" She let go of his wrists and used both her hands to scribble down his neck. He was thrown into hiccup-filled giggles, and practically melted into the touch. Wendy actually cooed at the sight.

"Ehehehehehehe! *hic* Whehehendy!" He lightly batted at her hands, scrunching up his shoulders, but overall just enjoying it. True, he was still Mega embarrassed, but Wendy was nice and understanding. It made things so much better and so much worse all at the same time.

She experimentally scratched at the shell of his ear, eliciting a squeak from the boy. Now craving the awesome sound, she focused mainly on his ears. For two whole minutes, Dipper Pines was a human squeaky toy.

Deciding that was enough, she went from scratching to rubbing his ears, trying to calm the tickly shocks running through them. Thirty seconds later, and he had gotten the last of his giggles out. He sat up, face still blazing. "Th-thanks Wendy. That was fun."

She playfully elbowed him. "Anytime, nerd. You really are super cute when you laugh like that. Try doing it more often." He shrugged, and ater a water break,, the two went out into the gift shop to greet the others.

"Hey kids. Sounded like you and Dipper had fun." In seconds, his face was back to red. Mable, Stan, and Wendy all laughed, Dipper joining in at the last minute. "Hey, next time you do it, invite me! I know all sorts of fun tickle-spots on this dork!" Mable punched her brother's arm, and he shot her a non-threatening glare.

"Yeah, no thanks. I'd rather just have a snack and go to sleep." Stan passed his some crackers and cheese, while Wendy grabbed her things. After she had pulled her boots on, she walked over to Dipper, rustling his hair.

"I'll see you tomorrow for work. Maybe next Friday, I can try some of those secret-sister-spots Mable was talking about." With that, the red-head walked out the door, leaving a blushy Dipper and two smirking relatives behind her.

[falsebooles123]

Confessions of a Recovering Genrephobic 2/17/2024

Hey Whores,

Don't really have a lot to say about this week. Been getting some stuff done. Namely Taxes. Been spending some money investing in myself. And realizing that I really need to kick my ass in high gear and start applying for new jobs.

Carnival of Clockwork (2015) - The Cog is Dead

Genre: Various, Steampunk Length: 47:14 (14 tracks)

I don't have a lot to say about this album. Mostly because i am a silly billy tired boy. Look do you like steampunk stuff with the storys and the cogs and the aestetics. Your'll like this.

I wasn't expecting the album to have such an eclectic sound to it but overall it has been a really nice time.

4/5

Sorry For Party Rocking (2011) - LMFAO

Genre: Pop Rap, Electro Length: 37:15 (10 Tracks)

So we have all heard LMFAO right? Sorry for Party Rocking, Shots, Everyday I'm Shuffling. Right?

(God I love Francine. This isn't even the specific scene I was trying to reference)

LMFAO is like the ultimate 2000s party music. It has a dub-step adjacent sound, the lyrics are fun and stupid. And its just hot and stupid and fun. Its like if Marshmellow and Lil John had like Gay sex while piss drunk on Johhny Walker and Lemon Drops and then had a child that somehow was the epitome of straight party bros but like in a nice wholesome way.

There is a surprisingly amount of variety in this album. Besides the more remembered singles there are tracks on here which are just explicetly EDM with sparse vocals and we love that for them.

5/5 (partialy for the nostaglia)

Pink Friday 2 (2023) - Nikki Minaj

Genre: Hip Hop Length: 70:14 (22 Tracks)

OOOH GURL. We don't stan.

So first of off the real critics criticize this album for being overally long and yeah bitch this is 22 FUCKING SONGS. GIRL WHY DO I NEED TO HERE 22 SONGS IN A GODDaMN ROW> WHO IS SHE WHO SI THIS PERSON THAT SO MUCH OF A BARB THAT WE WANT TO HEAR 22 SONGS IN A ROW>

She ain't here girl all I'm saying. Not to belabor the point but I literally thought the album had ending and that I was listening to autoplay for the last 20 minutes.

There songs are fine? Its a lot of samples and vagualy etheral sounding production. It sounds like I'm listening to someone sample a "Now this what I call Music '83" while I'm Stuck in the bottom of a well. Nikki be spitting verse but I can't say that it has much of the same stopping power as like any of her other music.

This just wasn't for me and the length makes it harder for me to appreciate the individual tracks.

2/5

Prelude to Ecstasy (2024) - The Last Dinner Party

Genre: Rock, Baroque Pop Length: 41:16 (12 Tracks)

ok this was just a lovely fucking time for a rainy day. Imagine a kinda 80s pop ballad band, mix it with light rock, and a florence-adjacent voculist and you got The Last Dinner Party. I'm gonna play one song for you and if this doesn't do anything for you then I'm sorry baby.

There non-singles are a lot more esoteric in the sound. They trade the catchy pop rock structure for something quite a bit more layered, baroque, and theatrical? orchestral? surreal? Baby girl, baby boy, baby zem you know I'm not good at discribing music.

Its like the perfect album for a rainy day. Meloncholic, evocative, and just almost purient in feeling. Its like wet chiffon against the skin in a summer rain.

4/5

[nopain-nokogane]

y’all think babs is a barb??

[im-in-love-with-pizza-bites]

Best Parts Of Him

Sebastian Stan X Daughter!Reader

Summary: As time goes by he wants you to know that he'll be with you wherever you go, you'll always be his baby girl

Warnings: breakup, that's all I think.

Song: Best Parts of Me by Will Dempsey

A/n: The Romanian is from Google Translate it might not be right... If it isn't go ahead send me a message or an ask with the correct translation and I'll fix it thank you!

Princess is spelled prinţesă and dear/darling is dragă :)

I can still remember the first time I saw

Those brown eyes staring into mine

It was in that moment I felt a love

I never knew I would find

It's like God took my heart right out of my chest

Sebastian smiled down staring at your big doe eyes that were filled with so much innocence. He couldn't believe it, he was a dad. Not only a dad, but a dad to the most precious little thing he had ever seen. Wrapped in a pink hospital blanket, a tiny tuft of hair on your head, and most beautiful eyes he's ever seen.

"Oh bless you." He cooed as you let out a tiny sneeze. He was in love, you owned his heart now he swears. He's never loved anyone or anything as much as the little baby in his arms. "Aren't you just the most precious thing. I love you." He placed his lips onto your forehead before looking back at your face.

"I'm gonna teach you everything I know. And your gonna know Romanian. Asta e corect prinţesă." He finished in his mother tongue. (That's right princess)

And wrapped it all up in a little pink dress

And painted the most beautiful smile in the world

And topped it all of it with brown hair and curls

The day he made my baby girl

Sebastian took a deep breath before knocking on the door holding the sunflowers in front of him. He could hear giggling from the other side of the door before it was opened.

You were in your room with your grandmother before you heard the doorbell. You looked up at your grandma smiling.

"Go on." She urged. You went running out of the room giggling once you made it to the living room. Opening the door you saw your dad holding a bouquet of sunflowers.

"Yes daddy!!" You jumped up and down smiling. He chuckled.

"Prinţesă, can I take you to the daddy daughter dance?" He asked kneeling to look 6 year old you in the eye. He couldn't help but hope you'd always be this tiny little girl. His little princess.

"These are for you dragă."

"Thank you."

'Cause the best parts of me were given to you

And I hope that all of your dreams come true

And as time goes by

I want you to know that I'll be with you wherever you go

You'll always be my baby girl

"And the winner is-" You crossed your fingers and looked down at your dad who was sat in the audience. "Y/n Stan, with her dance act!" The principal announced. You smiled stepping forward.

"Here's your prize." The drama teacher came onto the stage with the prize, it was a fifty dollar toys R us gift card.

You found your way in the lobby of your school looking for your dad. He was stood next to your grandparents, holding a bouquet of flowers. You smiled hugging him.

"I won." You said proudly.

"Good job dragă."

She's as sweet as the syrup

She dripped on her dress

Won't leave the house if her hair is a mess

"Daad! It looks terrible I can't go to school like this." You said motioning to the lopsided braids.

"Hey little missy I'm trying my best." He said. "It does look pretty bad though doesn't it?"

"Yeah it does. Just pull it back up in pony tail daddy." You grumbled crossing your arms.

"How about pig tails?"

"Fine just get them even." You sassed. He gasped.

"Hey sassy mcsass I'll leave your hair like this."

"Sorry dad." You leaned up placing a kiss on his cheek.

"That's what I thought."

You should see her dancing when she thinks she's alone

Or the snap she sends me from her mama's phone

And I've made so many mistakes in my life

At least I did one thing right, my baby girl

Sebastian did his best to hold in his laughter as he watched you belting out to music. Doing a funny dance, holding you hairbrush like a microphone. He pulled his phone out and began filming.

"You held me down, but I got up already brushing off the dust." You sang along. "You hear my voice, you hear that sound."

"Like thunder, gonna shake the ground." Sebastian joined. You screamed turning around dropping the hair brush. "You held me down, but I got up." He motioned for you to keep singing. You smiled joining in.

"Get ready 'cause I've had enough, I see it all, I see it now."

"I got the eye of the tiger, a fighter, dancing through the fire, 'cause I am a champion, and you're gonna hear me roar." You two sang together. "Louder, louder than a lion, 'cause I am a champion, and you're gonna hear me roar."

'Cause the best parts of me were given to you

And I hope that all your dreams come true

And as time goes by

I want you to know that I'll that I'll be with you wherever you go

You'll always be my baby girl

A scream was heard through the penthouse. Sebastian jumped to his feet running out of his office toward the sound. Almost falling a few times before he made it to the living room, more importantly by the door. He sees you a big smile on your face, hugging a piece of paper to your chest other mail scattered on the floor around your feet. He immediately felt relief seeing you okay.

"What happened?" He asked walking closer careful to not step on the other mail.

"I got in!" You said looking at him with such joy he has never seen before.

"In what?" He smiled.

I got in my dream school!!!" You exclaimed. He gasped hugging you.

"I'm so proud of you!" He said. His baby girl all grown up, leaving for college this summer.

There'll be some hard times you'll face in this life

Just say the word and I'm by your side

And all those bandaids and heartbreaks and days that go wrong

You'll never face them alone

Sebastian was confused, you had been away at college for about three months, it was November now. He wasn't expecting you to come home until Thanksgiving, but you called him told him you'd be home for the weekend and staying during Thanksgiving break. He didn't know why though. You told him you were having a Friendsgiving with your roommate and some other friends you made at college this weekend then you'd start heading down the next morning. Though you called him Friday and told him you were on your way. So Saturday morning he was up and watching for you to get there.

"Dad?" You hollered walking into the penthouse. He came around the corner frowning when he saw you. What looked like dried tears on your cheeks and his old college hoodie you stole from him when you were 7, a clear sign you were sad.

"Dragă? What happened?" He immediately brought you into a hug. You broke, you tried all night to stay strong but here you were. You never could stay strong around your dad.

"H-he broke up with me." You choked out. He knew who you were talking about, your boyfriend Kevin. You and Kevin had been dating during senior year of high school and decided to try to take a chance at long distance.

"Oh prinţesă." He mumbled.

"He met someone new!" You cried. "I wasn't good enough."

"Hey. No, you don't talk about yourself like that." He pulled away putting his hands on your shoulders. "Ești perfect, frumos, nu vorbești rău despre tine! A intelege?" You knew he was serious when he broke out the Romanian. It was rare for him to talk to you in Romanian, it was more common for you two to talk to your grandmother in Romanian but it was only pulled out for you when you were in trouble. (You are perfect, beautiful, you don't speak ill of yourself! Understand?)

"da tată." You responded hugging him again. Your dad always could make you feel better. (Yes dad)

'Cause those best parts of me

Will never leave you

Wherever you go

Whatever you do

And if there comes a time

When I'm not around

You know where I'll be found

My baby girl

My baby girl

My baby girl, oh

A/n: I love this song, I found it on tiktok and think it's beautiful. Also, I think I perfected the songfic? With it in bold and italic while also indented. What do you think?

[prose-for-hire]

UC Sunnyhell: Part one

Welcome to Sunnyhell! ☀

Next Part

Pairing: Spike x reader

Request: Series idea: College AU where Spike is the campus bad boy who secretly is a softie that writes poems and reader is the new transfer who just moved into Spike's apartment since it was the only available room on campus (no one wants to willingly live with Spike). Spike constantly having one night stands over, reader always trying to study. The Scoobies take reader under their wing but warn her about Spike's reputation. Slow burn enemies to friends to lovers?

Originally requested by: @sunflower-stan​

Warning: sex references. Swearing.

A/N: This is a college au !! There was a second part to this request but I didn’t have space to include it (just know I am using your ideas for the roles people would have on campus). This is part one of eight !!!!!! 🖤💜

You had been nervous for starting college. You weren’t even sure you wanted to move away from your hometown until the last second. This is why you ended up losing out on anywhere you could live on-campus. You were instead directed here.

To a little shared house just on the outskirts of the college. You had all of your stuff packed up and waiting to be moved in and you were just staring at the house. This would be your new home for the rest of the year. Your stomach flipped, a mix of nerves and excitement.

You were naturally more bookish. You enjoyed the theatre and musicals. Literature. Now, if you were honest upon looking back, a little sheltered. You were hoping this might change and that you could start fresh now that you were staring college. There were so many experiences and people that you were sure you would enjoy meeting.

You tentatively knocked on the door. You had packed up your little car and driven to UC Sunnydale the day before your course would start. You were assured that your roommate had your key and would tell you all about your new house.

You waited for a while before knocking again, a little louder. The door swung open almost immediately this time and you stepped back at the force of it.

A woman opened the door she was blonde and had rosy cheeks. Her skin was pale and she had plump, full lips. But you didn’t notice any of that. Because she had opened the door to you half naked. She stared at you as if to hurry you up. Cursing you with every breath you took.

As you managed to form words again, you began to ask.

“Oh... a-are you... Will-?”

“Do I fucking look like my name’s William?” She asked before shouting over her shoulder, “Spike one of your sluts is at the door!” her face was sullen as she grabbed up all of her stuff, slipped on some leggings and what you had thought was a bra as she pushed past you. Your eyes widened at her tone and you stepped out of her way less she body-slammed you in that direction anyway.

Your first impression of Spike was what one might call, a bad one. For one, you weren’t accustomed to meeting anyone for the first time fully naked.

He just raised an eyebrow as you stared open-mouthed “oh, right” he muttered, turning away slightly.

He wasn’t even embarrassed, his unlit cigarette hanging from his lip as he opened a draw and grabbed your key. He moved and handed it to you and you took it.

“Thanks” you squeaked, trying your best to act as if this was normal. You tried your hardest to keep your eyes trained to his face. He smirked, knowing exactly what you were trying not to look at. He sized you up for a moment, scanning his eyes over your body before shrugging and looking back up to your eyes and launching into his more formal greeting.

“Rules: don’t bloody touch any of my shit. Don’t start making me clean up, there’s a system oh, and please don’t start thinking we’re gonna braid each other’s hair and paint our nails - I didn’t want a bleeding roommate in the first place” He warned, pointing for emphasis. This gave you a flash of his already painted nails.

He rattled off a few more rules, as he lit up his cigarette. Rules such as don’t talk to him Monday through Friday, don’t speak to the people he brought back to the house ever and definitely don’t complain if you can smell alcohol and cigarettes.

“You’ve been warned. Right, your rooms the crap one on the left” he shrugged his head, before slamming the door to what was apparently his room as he spoke (to put some clothes on, you presumed). You started to walk towards the room he had pointed out, a little shell-shocked.

But you had barely stepped in when he opened his door again and popped his head out of the door, “Welcome to Sunnyhell!” He announced before slamming the door shut once more.

You moved everything into your room, you spent time making your room feel more like home. You spent a long time making it look cosy and yours.

To begin with, you and spike mostly kept out of each other’s way. You weren’t used to people being so blunt or hostile right off the bat. Still, you tried your best to be nice to him on the rare occasion that you did pass each other in the hall.

Your first day of classes had you feeling the way you always did. Lost. Both metaphorically and unfortunately you were also genuinely lost. You had taken a turn and you didn’t know where to go next. You checked your map but it didn’t make any sense.

You were just going to walk in a random direction until a kind voice spoke to you.

“Hey, you’re lost right?”

“Big time” You smiled sheepishly, noticing only now that your map was upside down. The blonde girl introduced herself as Buffy and seemed to take an instant like to you. She could tell you were a little out of your depth and it showed on your face as much as she had felt it inside on her first day.

You both started walking in the vague direction of the campus. She asked you what class you had and what room and she was determined to help you find it. You kept thanking her almost every other step for her kindness. But she just shook her head, showing that you had no reason to. She wanted to.

You got to know her and she asked about you. She explained that she and her friend Cordy were part of a sorority and that her and her friends had found it hard when they started college last year. As you rounded the corner and Buffy saw the room you had been looking for, she became slightly side-tracked. She saw one of her best friends.

You smiled at Buffy. You liked her, she seemed really friendly. She appears to be really popular too, she stops every other step to speak to someone.

“Oh, Will! Hey!” Buffy raised her hand as she did her voice to catch the redhead’s attention, “Y/n, this is the resident genius and science club president!”

The girl, Willow, was wearing  lab coat and smiling sweetly at you. Her aesthetic and Buffy’s didn’t really match so after greeting the new girl, you had to ask.

“And you two are friends?” You ask a little confused. You were still used to how cliquey high school had been so seeing lots of different people mixing and being friends was strange. But, you decided you really liked it.

“Best friends”

“Yeah! We all sit together at lunch and just hang. Why don’t you join us?”

“Oh, well-”

“Great, we meet at the canteen at one!” Buffy called, linking arms with Willow and leaving you at the door of the lecture room you needed.

You entered your class, trying your best not to feel so overwhelmed. You actually really enjoyed it and just hoped that this would continue through the rest of the year.

After class was over, you tried to familiarise yourself with the campus again. Looking at different stalls that had been set up for the new arrivals advertising clubs.

You felt a little out of place and so sort of stayed to the side lines, not really interacting with many of the students. You hung around by the noticeboard and something caught your eye. A bright pink flier. You took it down, staring at it.

It read ‘Open mic night – held by the Poetry society and the theatre club’ You folded the flier and stuffed it into your pocket with a little smile. Maybe you wouldn’t feel so left out here after all.

You looked up from your feet as you needed to try and find your next class. As you did, you managed to directly catch someone’s eye. Spike’s. You lifted your hand to awkwardly wave at him and give him a little smile at him but he just glared at your action and ignored you completely.

You watched lamely as he just stalked away. That stupid leather jacket of his whipping around his heels. Everyone moved out of his way they all scattered as he just walks wherever he likes.

You sigh, extremely embarrassed at the way he had blanked you. You shove the hand that had still been slightly raised into your pockets as you walked away towards your next class.

Eventually lunch came and you decided that you could go to the canteen. You stood awkwardly on the side looking around for a face that you recognised in the sea of bodies.

As soon as Buffy saw you, she called you over immediately and began to introduce you to her group of friends. It was quite the mix of people. You learned a lot in a short space of time.

There was Xander, he was on a basketball scholarship. Apparently he was the sole reason that the college team won so often. Although, how true that was you weren’t entirely sure. He was immediately friendly and invited you to sit. You had expected him to be unwelcoming and kind of arrogant but he was the complete opposite. He smiled and cracked a few goofy jokes upon your arrival to put you at ease.

Sitting next to him was Cordelia, but she preferred ‘Cordy’. She was Buffy’s sorority sister and head cheer coach. She was dating Xander, only in the sense that they shared sodas and the backseat of Cordy’s new car. She could have quite a biting attitude but she did this as a term of endearment you found… to the lucky few.

Then there was Willow, who you had already met. She was a proud nerd and she had more extracurriculars than you could count up to it seemed. She was incredibly sweet and good-natured treating you as if she had known you her whole life. You also learned she had a girlfriend.

Tara, who was sat braiding Willow’s hair seeing as she had finished her lunch already. It appeared like she needed to do something when she was sat in a group. She appeared nice although she didn’t speak as much as everyone else so it was

Usually, someone called Angel would show. Everyone on campus knew him apparently as he was a member of one of the frats. He was kind of hard to get hold of you discovered. Buffy was a little disappointed when she explained that he wasn’t coming to lunch today. She appeared to really like him.

After the introductions were made and everyone started to eat again, the focus turned to you briefly. Buffy said you should totally join their cheerleading group or one of the fraternities or sororities. But this wasn’t really your kind of thing. You explain that you’d rather find something else. As you said this, you felt the corner of the flier in your pocket. You hoped you would find at least someone that shared your interests. That you could bond with over the things that excited you. Form a connection with.

Not to say you weren’t already feeling a welcoming vibe from the table you were sat with. They were friendly but appeared to be holding back slightly upon your arrival. You got it, you were new. But it did make you feel like you stood out a little.

You stared into the distance as they chatted, until someone spoke to you.

“Where are you staying, y/n?” Willow’s girlfriend, Tara, asked kindly. She seemed quiet and so probably knew how you were feeling. You smiled at her, appreciating her effort.

“Oh, I applied late so I got what was left. I’m in a shared house just off campus, I’m living with this guy – Spike”

There was a collective intake of breath and some shared looks. They appeared worried for you. You looked up in confusion at their shocked faces.

“He’s bad news”

“Yeah, hot off the presses – Spike is a total no-go. Nobody else took that room for a reason, there are rumours” Buffy warned you, her voice going quiet.

“And that Billy Idol wannabe hair? I get vintage, but that guys totally stuck living in the eighties” Cordy commented, the resident expert in style you would soon discover.

“What are the rumours?” You asked, bracing yourself for the reply.

“Well, apart from the superficial stuff-”

“Yeah, Cor’s got that part covered” Xander teased which made Cordy stamp on his foot under the table. He yelped and they glared at each other before they began suddenly launching themselves at each other and making out.

“Anyway… he’s horrible to everyone. He once got into a fist fight over a half pack of cigarettes he found on the sidewalk”

“He has a new, uh, sex buddy every week and he’s on constant probation. They threaten to expel him from college all the time” Willow had whispered her warning which had made Buffy smile fondly.

But you weren’t smiling. You were starting to worry. You knew you should have checked the place out before you signed the agreement. Now you were stuck there.

“I can’t stay there if he’s gonna fight me! I can’t throw a punch” You said, not quite believing that he would try to hurt you.

“We have self-defence class on Thursdays, we can sign you up” Buffy said, patting your hand that was resting on the table. Your eyes widened, they really thought he might fight you.

“Buffy’s the teacher” Willow explained before telling you not to worry.

Since this conversation, you were even more cautious around Spike. The tension began to rise between you. His attitude was unforgiving and he had taken one look at you and immediately judged you as being ‘one of them’.

You tried to be his friend to begin with, being naturally friendly and wanting some kind of approval from him that you didn’t understand.

But it soon became apparent you were almost complete opposites.

He kept the kitchen in a mess where you liked to have some sense of cleanliness. He had become really annoyed with you when you had cleaned up. You had a spare couple of hours in the afternoon and thought you would make it look tidy. You had done it to be kind but he had snatched the bowl you had cleaned for him and stormed away.

The tension was beginning to rise between you. You spoke to your new friends about it when you sat with them at lunch and they fuelled your feelings. You were starting to realise just how much you didn’t like Spike.

You and Spike, apart from the odd hello from you and the irritated grunt from him, didn’t communicate. He had ripped up your note suggesting a rota system for keeping the house tidy. And he all-out blanked you if he ever stumbled onto some lame corner of the campus that you were hanging out in.

The tension moved from apparent indifference to an increasing distaste for the other and their opposing nature. Spike assumed you thought you were better than he was. Because you studied. And slept early and had friends that were ridiculously too clean-cut.

He had seen you hanging out with Buffy and her gang of losers. He instantly decided you were just some bland prep like them. He was waiting for the day you tried to bring one of them over so he could have the pleasure of kicking them out of his house the way they shunned him in public.

One evening, a few weeks after you had met Buffy’s friends in the canteen for the first time, you were home alone. Spike had gone out as he usually would to get drunk and you were staying in just like almost every other night since you had moved to Sunnydale.

You couldn’t sleep and so you had sat in the shared living space watching some boring late-night show for company. You hugged a cushion to your chest and just stared blankly at the screen. Feigning listening to the low buzzing of the set and hoping you could fall asleep this way.

It was at a time where you hadn’t started meeting your new group of friends outside of the canteen at lunch yet. You didn’t have people to talk to, you wouldn’t want to bother them anyway.

Suddenly the front door swung open and there was what sounded like some kind of scuffle happening through the doorway. You frowned confused. Until you saw that it was Spike shoving his tongue down someone’s throat. It was the third different person Spike had brought home that week. And it was Wednesday.

You had been sat in the dark and Spike was otherwise occupied so he dragged your houseguest to the sofa that you were sat on and tangled against them with an urgency fuelled by loneliness or alcohol – you didn’t stick around long enough to care why he did it.

You were fixed to the spot, your face contorted in horror as you had unwittingly become a part of his one night stand. But as their bodies rolled and pressed against yours, you screamed. They smelled as if they had brought the entire brewery home with them.

Spike barely even registered that you were there, he just cast an eye towards you and raised an eyebrow. As if you were the one in his way. You saw his hand lowering, groping his new friend and your eyes widened and you scrambled to remove yourself from the area and get to the solace of your room.

You scowled. He was so inconsiderate.

As the weeks went by it was apparent that you were never going to get along. You were annoyed that he wouldn’t acknowledge that the house was now shared. He treated you as if you were damp seeping into the walls. Tainting everywhere he turned. Bubbling and creating a problem in the corner. Spreading and ruining his mood with your stubborn insistence to stay in the home.

And you were starting to treat him the same way. Which, he knew you would eventually. He had guessed your friendliness had been an act.

You were just too different. You liked to study to stay on top of your work. Whereas Spike didn’t ever seem to be doing any work. You were always in his business, making comments and singing those musical songs around the house that bugged him so much.

It was as if you were living in a better way than him. You were trying to ‘improve’ him and he felt as if you were suffocating him with all of your little ideas about changing the house around. You were really starting to get on his nerves.

He kept irregular hours and this was okay by you, so long as it didn’t affect your sleep schedule. But, unfortunately it often did.

You had leaned over to turn your bedside lamp off and settled into bed. You closed your eyes, smiling at the day you had. Cordy and Buffy had taken you shopping. They insisted they would find you a new college wardrobe. You gave them a budget and your style ideas and they worked their magic.

You were so grateful they had kind of started to take you under their wing. You weren’t entirely sure if it was to get dirt on Spike at first, but they had gotten bored of the topic as the weeks went on and were more interested in getting to know you.

You began to drift into sleep as you recounted your day. Until all of a sudden you were jolted awake. Loud music had started playing. You checked the clock it was nearing midnight – you had gotten in much later than you usually would after your friends had taken you for a drink to celebrate a successful shopping trip.

The pounding of the music and the screaming vocals were so loud it was as if the band was playing a live set directly beside your bed. Your entire room appeared to be shaking because of it.

You got out of bed, your anger bubbling dangerously higher with every step you took towards the source of the noise. He was sat in the shared living area, drinking liquor from the bottle and nodding along to the music.

“I have a really important class tomorrow, can you keep it down?” You asked, trying to make your voice sound level.

“Don’t know. Can you keep your hands off my Weetabix?” He asked snidely. You had seen one of his friends or… whatever they were eat the last of it. But you were too embarrassed to bring up his promiscuity. The rumours had made you cautious of him and so you just didn’t say anything.

He quirked his eyebrow as if he had caught you out and turned to the cd player he was using. You sighed some relief but rather than turning it down he twisted the dial so that the volume was at its fullest.

This was it. You stalked towards the Cd player and turned the volume right down. He got up from his seat immediately, grabbing your upper arm to pull you away. His grip was firm and his body was extremely close to yours. His eyes were hard and unforgiving as he spoke.

“Did you forget the rules already? Don��t. touch. My. Bloody. Stuff”

You snatched your arm away and gritted your teeth. You couldn’t think of any witty comebacks. You wished you were Buffy or Willow – they would have known what to say.

Instead, you just expelled air through your nose and stormed off. The punk song now blaring out of the speakers again as you slammed your door shut.

You were so angry you were shaking. You stomped into bed, putting a pillow over your head and tried, and mostly failed, to get some sleep.

You were a zombie the next day. Completely running on caffeine. Your new friends helped you out, tried to wake you up before class and Cordy swore that when she saw Spike next she would give him a piece of her mind. You appreciated them so much.

You were worried because you didn’t seem to have as much in common with the others. Cordy and Buffy went to their cheer club and their sorority. Xander was the basketball star with a goofy, soft heart. And Willow was this complete sweetheart genius who had a love for learning and found the work here all so easy. Her girlfriend was really sweet too, although a little quiet. You had only met her once that time in the canteen but you decided you could probably call her a friend too.

You didn’t have much in common, you were more bookish and you had to work a lot harder to grasp what was being taught. Despite your love of learning, it didn’t come naturally to you. You had to work at it to maintain an average grade. This meant you would study even harder to achieve those grades that you truly desired.

But luckily, despite your suggested lack in commonality, they really liked you for some reason. You and your new friends had all just clicked. At least you had them to be accepting of you.

Either way, that still didn’t solve a problem like Spike.

He infuriated you. He made you want to scream. You wanted to move out. A dark part of you wanted to sneak into his room at night and smother him with the pillow he had forced you to cover your ears with.

You just hoped through the rest of the year that things couldn’t get any worse than it already was. That you could just ride it out.

You were sure there was no way to bridge this gap. No way you could possibly ever get over what a complete pain he was. You couldn’t stand him. He was smug and didn’t care about anything. He was selfish and he didn’t even acknowledge you in public.

You just wanted to get this college year done and get out of there. You had decided that if you ever saw Spike’s face again after this year – it would be one time too many.

[kafka-ish]

without my enemy what would i do | r.t.

richie tozier has been announced to come to dinner and y/n doesn’t know if things could possibly get worse for her.

word count: 8.3k

warnings/included: !!TW!! mentions of suicide/attempted suicide, nsfw (smut, fingering, oral -- male receiving), enemies to lovers, bratty!fem!reader

a/n: this was in no way meant to glamorize/romanticize suicide or any topic relating to that so if that’s triggering for you either don’t read this fic or the end. also i was heavily inspired by freaky friday and some other fics i’ve read

-

y/n couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mom’s mouth that morning. It had started pleasantly. The two were sharing a fruit medley her mom had prepared the night before at the breakfast nook. But those eight words had ruined the rest of her day.

“I’m inviting the Toziers over for dinner tonight.” 

The tea in y/n’s mouth must’ve fallen out because she had been scolded for soiling the white tablecloth. But y/n didn’t care. The only thing occupying her mind was the fact that Richie Fucking Tozier would be in her house. 

“How could you do this to me?” y/n accused her poor mother who was now frantically sopping up the stained green tea from the white fabric which she had just bought. She supposed she could just switch out the cloth for the time being, but everything had to be perfect when the Toziers came over.

“I don’t understand why you have... such disdain for them,” her mom said calmly. She always had a way of keeping her heels in the ground while her daughter’s head was stuck in the sky. “The Toziers are a family friend,” she insisted. 

“I don’t have an issue with all of them.” y/n got up and gently placed her plate and mug in the sink. She washed them thoroughly before exiting. “Just Richie.” She mumbled the last part under her breath as she made her way up the stairs. y/n still had to put on her school clothes and make her way to school—something she was going to do rather unwillingly now.

y/n and Richie went back—way back. The Toziers and y/l/ns have been family friends since the two were in diapers; always forced to play together while their parents had their Sunday luncheons, the awkward lets-be-partners-since-I-don’t-know-anyone-else in middle school. Sometime in between the summer of ‘89 and their freshman year of high school, something changed. Richie changed. He was still the funny guy who hung out in the back of the room making offhanded jokes, but he was also the guy who made it his mission to hook up with every girl who stepped foot in Derry.

And somewhere in between, maybe y/n changed. She traded her pastel sweaters for cropped, graphic shirts and tight-fitting tees. The pleated skirts she always wore were replaced by ripped jeans that hung low on her hips with the help of her trusty studded belt. And her virgin hair was highlighted to the roots ever since sophomore year picked up.

Maybe y/n changed. 

It was after a long day of incessant chatter and a math teacher who couldn’t seem to stop talking about his ex-wife when the dismissal bell rang. y/n was then stopped in her tracks by the one and only, Richie Fucking Tozier.

“Hey, princess.” His eyes were hazy with smoke and she was sure the Marlboro in his mouth wasn’t his first of the day.

“What do you want, Tozier?” y/n was reluctant to actually stop walking so she could talk to the scum on earth also known as Derry’s resident Trashmouth. Her beat-up high tops scraped against the cement and the undone hot pink laces swung in every direction imaginable. How she hadn’t tripped over her own two feet yet was beyond Richie as he watched the girl in front of him with amused eyes.

Richie’s back slumped against the bricks that made up the walls of their high school. One foot was propped behind him on the bricks, the other planted firmly on the sidewalk. “Your shirt’s inside out.” His pink lips curled into a smirk as if he knew something she didn’t, and y/n’s frown turned into a scowl.

y/n looked down. He was right. Her favorite black shirt with neon red and yellow stitching of a guitar on the front was, indeed, inside out. But she wasn’t going to let Richie Fucking Tozier have the satisfaction of getting under her nails. Not like this, anyway. “Thanks.” She let out a breath, half to calm herself and half to let Richie know how annoying he was being.

But he knew. 

“You’re wasting precious oxygen.” y/n’s glare flicked from his eyes to the cigarette caught between his teeth and Richie only smiled. 

“What, from smokin’?” He took the, what Stan called, cancer stick out from his mouth with his index and middle finger.

“No, from breathing.” It was a lame comeback. y/n was never good at comebacks, but she felt her cheeks heat up and blood stir when a chuckle fell from his breath. 

He hummed thoughtfully, “Hmm. Okay, sweetheart.” He stood up straight, now towering over an uptight and pissed off y/n even more. He took another puff from his Marlboro, waiting for her response. But she only plucked the cigarette from his mouth and stomped it out. 

“Did you call me over to say something important or did you just wanna waste my time?” y/n should’ve just walked off before this conversation even started, but it was too late and she would curse herself forever for giving this boy the time of day. 

She was met with a cloud of smoke in the face and she coughed furiously. His breath smelled like ashes and cinnamon Altoids. Richie Tozier had blown his stupid cigarette smoke in her face. And before she could tell him to fuck off or screw himself, his words rung in her ears. 

“Your ‘rents contacted mine. Looks like I’m comin’ over for formalities an’ shit.” His features were still twisted in a sick grin that y/n wanted to slap right off him.

“Formalities doesn’t usually consist of the word shit,” y/n said and began to start on her way home. It was bad enough she was forced to spend an hour (or more) with him at dinner, she didn’t need to linger any longer. 

Her feet dragged on the graffitied pavement harshly and her pissed-off-ness transferred from the front door to the dining room where her mom was already setting up. Her dad had yet to arrive home from work, which was at five o’clock on the dot. Their family ate at six.

“Are you still upset about this morning?” Mrs. y/l/n’s soft voice sounded condescending as she was too focused on polishing the fine china to see her daughter’s scrunched eyebrows and squinting eyes. 

“Yes.” 

y/n huffed and one of the highlighted pieces of her hair flew from her face when she did so. “This dinner is ruining my life. Richie Tozier is ruining my life. You’re ruining my life!” She cried. It might’ve been an exaggeration, but so be it. Her life was, essentially, ruined.

“Your life is ruined?” Her mother was in disbelief. “How so?” Even though she asked the question, y/n could tell she wasn’t interested.

“Because you’re inviting the Toziers over when I’ve explicitly told you how much I hate them.” A growl left her lips in a fairly animalistic way to which Mrs. y/l/n told y/n that hate was a strong word and to make sure she didn’t bring that attitude to the dinner table tonight.

“Why don’t you take a hot bath? You can blow off some steam.” She laughed, thinking about the absurdity of ‘cooling-off’ in a tub of hot water but y/n crossed her arms at her mom’s negligence. y/n’s mother finally looked up at her daughter, her eyes judging y/n’s outfit carefully. “I’d like you to change, too.” Mrs. y/l/n wasn’t really fond of her daughter’s recent style. She had always loved the soft cardigans and floral dresses she used to wear in her early years. Granted, she was the one who picked them out. But they were just so cute. Mrs. y/l/n didn’t understand the recent trend of choker necks and buying jeans pre-ripped and she knew she never would. She could only wish her daughter were the same cute, innocent little girl she knew from way back when.

y/n grunted, making it known that her mother was being unreasonable. 

“Aren’t you going to ask me about my day? No, because you never do,” y/n mumbled only loud enough for her to hear. 

It was after three hours of painfully solving logarithms (which was more like staring at the dreaded piece of paper until eventually expressing defeat), a long soak, and an outfit change when four faces arrived at y/n’s front door and Mrs. y/l/n called her down to greet the guests. 

“Are you sure you want to wear that?” Her mother’s thin eyebrow rose skeptically at y/n when she saw—what she would call—the atrocity she was wearing.

y/n shot her mom the same look, unsure of what was so offensive about a black tank top and low-rise jeans. She could be so conservative. “I can change.” y/n didn’t feel like putting up a fight tonight, but her mother placed a hand on her shoulder before she could move.

“There’s no time, now.” y/n could tell she was about to break out in a scowl, but Mrs. y/l/n did a better job at containing herself than her. “Just…just get a jacket or something. I don’t know.” She pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation and y/n left before she could see Richie Tozier unabashedly walk in with his so-called ‘rents.

“Look who I found just as I was coming home, honey.” y/n overheard her dad kiss her mom on the cheek as she fished for her jean jacket in the coat closet. Gag me with a spoon. 

“Maggie! Wentworth!” y/n watched her mom hug the two from the corner of her eye as she reentered the foyer wearing a jean jacket. “It’s been too long.”

“Indeed.” y/n found it hard to swallow her scoff and keep a neutral face.

“Yes. I’m so glad you invited us over tonight.” 

Richie then appeared from behind his parents. His parents had also made him change, seeing as he wore a navy blue button-up (wrinkled, of course) and the only pair of jeans he owned that wasn’t ripped and reached his ankles. y/n suddenly felt embarrassed about wearing such casual clothes. It seemed as if everyone were dressed for the occasion.

“Oh my, Richie. You’ve gotten so tall,” A gasp left her mother’s red and overlined lips. She took a few moments to welcome the family, making her version of witty banter and repeating how it’s been too long. She then walked them to the dining room which was lit up by the chandelier that hung from the ceiling. Why her mother set up a candelabra in the center of the table still unknown to y/n.

“I see y/n’s still shy.” Wentworth chuckled as he took his seat and y/n could feel the blood rush to her neck and cheeks (is it getting hot in here or is it just me?) when she realized she hadn’t said anything since the Toziers arrived.

She took her seat across from RIchie and begun to pick at the green beans on her plate. 

“Oh, Went, don’t be fooled. She’s not shy. It’s just her teen angst.” The words left y/n’s mother’s careless mouth and her daughter’s eyes widened at the statement. 

“Mom!” 

“Ah.” Maggie smiled at her friend knowingly before stabbing into the perfectly seared cut of stake that sat on her plate. “Wentworth and I know a thing or two about teen angst.” She tittered into her napkin and it was now Richie’s turn to shoot his mom the side-eye. 

y/n tuned in an out of the Toziers’ conversation with her parents. The topics ranging from their jobs, newfound hobbies, and the best recipe for meatloaf. Surprisingly, y/n hadn’t heard a peep out of Richie throughout the whole meal.

“Wow, you have outdone yourself,” Wentworth said as he had just about cleared his plate.

“Oh, that’s not all. I baked a lemon meringue pie for dessert if you’ll stay.” It wasn’t as if Maggie and Wentworth were just going to leave after finishing their meal. That’d be too easy. They had both complied, exclaiming that they could already taste how delicious it was going to be. “y/n would you be a dear and go fetch it for us?” Her mother asked. “It should be in the kitchen. On the island.” y/n stood up from her seat, grateful to get away from the scene she felt trapped in.

“yeah, y/n. would you be a dear and go fetch?” Richie couldn’t help himself but take a jab at y/n as she was walking towards the kitchen’s entryway. She’d turn around to give him the finger if this were any other setting. Maggie turned to face her soon, silently scolding him and whispering that it might do him good to help her out.

Richie bit back a sigh while he got up and trudged his way to where y/n was.

His eyes roamed y/n’s delicate fingers that moved with grace and dexterity as she handled the sharp knife that sliced through the homemade pastry.

“Hey.” If y/n were any less skilled, she would’ve dropped the weapon, ruining her mother’s sugary creation.

“Jesus, Tozier.” She set down the knife. “Don’t startle me like that.” She made sure to keep her voice low, not wanting her mom to become suspicious. 

“You’d hate me for knocking and you’d hate me for just standin’ around like a creep.” He shrugged and y/n brushed past him. She held the pie dish in one hand and a stack of plates in the other. “Lemme help.” His head tilted to the side and his doe eyes looked pathetic under the dim kitchen light.

“You are a creep.” But y/n complied, allowing him to take the plates so she could focus all her effort on the pie.

“I’m a creep?” Richie looked to her amusedly. y/n didn’t answer. Her lips were sewn shut as soon as she found herself back in the dining room with all eyes on her and Richie hot on her trail.

“Thank you so much, y/n.” Mrs. y/l/n awed at her own work and started to dish out the precut pieces onto the plates Richie set down. “Speaking of y/n—as if I don’t speak about her enough—did you know she recently won the Academic Excellence Award for both Math and English?” The enthusiasm in her mom’s voice was alien to y/n’s ears.

“That’s great, y/n.” Maggie looked to her with a sort of light in her eyes she never looked at Richie with. “Rich, you never told us about this.” Her fork started for the meringue on Jenny’s pie first; soon after it would make its way down to the actual pie part.

“I didn’t see the point in sayin’ anything.” His face was stuffed full of pie and he shrugged.

Both Wentworth and Maggie looked at their son with disappointment.

“We care.” Wentworth then looked at y/n reassuringly. “Don’t listen to him, y/n... Wow, Jenny, this is great stuff.” 

Once more, y/n got up from her seat. She didn’t bother helping herself to a slice of her mom’s pie and if she had the option, she wouldn’t have bothered making an appearance downstairs. “Can I be excused?” She asked her dad in particular who nodded. A sympathetic look was plastered on his face which was also stuffed with her mom’s dessert. 

“Hey!” This was the beginning of one of Wentworth’s many great ideas. “Why don’t you show Richie your awards? It seems our boy could use a new outlook on what an Academic Excellence Award actually means.” He gave Richie a firm pat on the back before he begrudgingly stood up and walked over to where y/n was already making her way up the staircase. 

“I wouldn’t blame ya if you feel all hot an’ bothered,” Richie said once they reached the top of the stairs. 

y/n’s nose wrinkled at his words and she could already feel herself frowning at his unwanted presence. “What?” 

“Aw. Don’t be like that, princess.” He threw his arm around her shoulder and y/n felt an odd warmth heat her body that wasn’t from the doing of her flimsy jacket. “Everyone wants a chance at the Tozier.” He took his free hand, the hand that wasn’t resting on her covered skin, and pointed to himself with his thumb. 

y/n was about to ask who everyone was, but she didn’t want to give Richie the chance to list off the names of the girls he’s done. “I don’t like you, Richie.” 

“Keep tellin’ yourself that, babe.” The two were now in y/n’s room. y/n didn’t allow her eyes to meet his. Instead, found herself organizing her already tidy desk. The only thing on it was her homework from earlier and a slew of highlighters.

Richie, on the other hand, took it upon himself to take a tour. His long legs made their way across the perimeter of y/n’s room. There wasn’t a speck of dust to be found and if she had spent half the time she did cleaning to go to the attitude adjustment program his mom always talked about, maybe they’d get along better.

“Your room’s changed.” Richie was now admiring her trophy shelf. Above it hung multiple metals; all gold and he stood in amazement for a while. Richie had always been smart. His grades always surpassed his parents’ expectations, but he never tried. He never made a deal to push himself or shoot for the stars. He never got why awards were such a big deal. Hell, Derry didn’t even make a big deal out of them. But as his magnified eyes stared patiently through his coke bottle lenses at the shiny medallions and gold cups that were displayed proudly in y/n’s room, a part of him wished he had tried harder.

“Yeah.” y/n wished she weren’t so quick as she cleaned because that meant facing him sooner. “People change, I guess. The room’s just a part of the process.” She bit her lip and thought back to how things used to be. Richie and y/n were nowhere near close, but she hadn’t always hated him. 

“y/n, I want you to meet someone,” Maggie Tozier said softly to a small girl who wore her hair in pigtails and a puppy dog face wherever she went.

y/n, who spent her days hiding behind her mom’s legs and was never the one to talk to people who weren’t her friends or parents, looked between Maggie and the boy standing next to her as she sat crouched in the grass in her backyard.

The y/l/n’s had invited the Toziers over for lunch and Maggie thought this would be the perfect day to introduce her son to their daughter.

“Hey!” Richie Tozier had always been a loudmouth. From when he was first able to speak, the Tozier household was filled with nothing but incessant chit-chat, whether or not it was worth listening to. Maggie and Wentworth loved him regardless. “I betcha can’t fit your whole fist in your mouth. I can-!” Richie unhinged his jaw and he was about to force his balled-up hand to the back of his throat until Maggie scolded him for being ungentlemanly. “Sorry, ma.” He looked down, discouraged until he caught a glimpse of y/n’s shy smile and the beginning of a laugh.

It would be the beginning of a beautiful friendship—maybe even more—both the Toziers and y/l/n’s had suspected. 

How wrong they were. 

Sure, Richie and y/n were ‘friends’, but they were the forced-acquaintance-like type. The only time Richie and y/n had any solid interactions with each other was when their parents had their lunch dates together and they served as the tag-a-longs.

At school, y/n found her own group of friends with Stacy Howards and Regina Carmichaels. Stacy was a pretty girl who found out about her love of cheerleading at an early age and even though the popularity got to her from time to time, she still knew where her loyalties lied. Regina was like y/n—quiet, reserved, and focused on her studies. But she didn’t wear anything that revealed above the knee, on account of, she wasn’t allowed. The three had been inseparable ever since the third grade.

Richie had seemed to find his own group, too. A young boy named Bill Denbrough who would grow into his looks and lead them through silly adventures, Stan Uris (one of the only Jews in Derry), and a hypochondriac whom Richie called ‘Eds’, short for Eddie Kaspbrack. But his group would only continue to grow while y/n’s would stay because while seven’s the lucky number, three’s company.

y/n exhaled sharply, recalling how things used to be. The simpler times. She looked over from her desk to see Richie, whose hands were tracing the raised words scrawled on the metal trophy. 

Perfect Attendance Award (1989-1990)

“Don’t touch my stuff!” She shouted and a startled Richie pulled his hand away shakily but also clumsily, causing the golden cup to fall from its stand and the others to shift. They were now slightly askew from their original place. y/n cringed at the sound of the award hitting the hardwood floor; certain that would leave a mark. 

“Sorry,” Richie mumbled insincerely while he bent down to pick it up. He recklessly put it back and it was definitely not in the position it sat in beforehand. 

A scoff accidentally left  its way from y/n’s mouth and an idea formed in Richie’s head. 

“Is this how you treat all your guests?” y/n couldn’t see the smirk on his lips because he was turned away from her. 

“Only the insufferable ones.” y/n’s eyes narrowed at the back of Richie’s head. “You can be a real asshole sometimes.” 

“I hate to break it to ya, but you’re no walk in the park either.” Richie turned around. He was preparing himself for a smack to the head or jab in the gut. He didn’t expect for y/n’s searing stare to have some sort of newfound effect on him. 

y/n had always been pretty. Whether it be when they were twelve and she wore white, collared shirts under her yellow, cable-knit sweaters. Or in freshman year when her hair grew longer and her shirts got shorter. 

But the question, if Richie had ever thought about her or not, would remain a mystery to y/n. It would be weird to make out with the girl you knew since Velcro shoes and He-man, right? Right?

y/n’s eyes trailed from Richie’s to his lips, similarly to how she’d done earlier that day. But earlier that day a cigarette was nested between his perfect—chapped lips. Now, the only thing that stood between their lips was the space between them and tension.

“Whatever.” y/n was about to leave, not caring that Richie Tozier would be left to his own devices in her room. She just wanted to be in any room he wasn’t. But a hand, decorated in silver rings and chipped nail polish, stopped her from doing so. This was the second time someone had stopped her from leaving by laying their hand on her shoulder.

There was no time to ask for questions because Richie’s lips were attached to hers, kissing away her grimace. It was a total paradox: his lips were cracked, yet soft and even though they had just eaten dinner she could taste mint on his tongue.

The kiss was rough and full of want. Richie wanted to know what she tasted like. Richie wanted to know what she felt like. Richie wanted to know her.

y/n pulled apart from him. She stayed long enough to know what his kisses felt like but left fast enough to leave him wanting more. 

“Why’d you do that?” She said in between gasps for air. They were both left breathless from the intensity of it all. 

Richie shrugged and y/n hated how apathetic he could be. “Just felt like it.” His hands slipped into his back pockets. His eyes then started to travel from her neck to her body. He started to wonder what she looked like without that jean jacket on. Or any clothes on. 

y/n knew what Richie wanted. It was just the question if she’d give it to him or not. She shrugged her shoulders in an equivalent fashion as to how Richie shrugged his so that the jacket slipped off, revealing the exposed skin her tank top allowed for.

A faint whistle echoed from Richie’s lips. The same lips that were just on hers a moment ago. He took the time to stare at—no—admire her sharp collarbones and the skin that her top left no imagination for. A sudden rush of goosebumps pricked y/n’s now exposed shoulders at the sound of him whistling and she had to tell herself to keep her composure.

“Is this the part where we have amazing sex and afterward I’m just suddenly supposed to forgive you?” y/n’s words were like a knife, stabbing into Richie’s unusually open state. Nonetheless, her arms were reaching to take off her shirt and her legs were already kicking off her loose jeans.

“Don’t try an’ break the fourth wall.” Richie mirrored her. His shirt flew across the room, it wasn’t like he cared where it landed. His only pair of good jeans marked where he once stood. He was now on her. His lips left sloppy, wet kisses that trailed from her heated cheeks to her neck.

The two were fast to make their way to y/n’s bed—Richie taking his rightful place on top of her and y/n wrapping her legs around him. Her hips bucked up to his as she tried to relieve the built-up stress and ache in her core, but it only caused the heat in her underwear to pool, even more, soaking it further.

“Christ, you’re dripping.” Richie felt the dampness from her panties transfer to his boxers. His index and middle finger reached down, swiping at her heat through the lacy fabric. y/n whimpered as she watched him lick the slick from his fingers afterward. “You have to be quiet, okay? If we get busted my dad’ll sock me.” Richie whispered in her ear, his lips barely ghosting the shell of it.

y/n’s eyes fluttered at the small sensation. Do it again, Richie. But she would never admit her longing for him. Her legs tightened around him (if that were even possible) and she only wished that Richie would get the hint without her having to say it.

“Needy, are we?” y/n’s eyes rolled under her shut eyelids at the sound of Richie’s voice. The boy was all talk, non-stop. If they didn’t hurry, y/n feared her mom would check up on the two. All she could do was pray the Toziers kept them busy with conversation.

Richie held himself up with his left arm while his right hand rubbed indecipherable shapes on her clit. y/n wanted to cry out, but she knew better than that and she would get more than just a handful from Richie if she did. His long, dexterous fingers knew their way around a girl and y/n couldn’t help but think to how many times he’s done this before.

He was fast when he slipped a finger into her, then one became two, and two became none just as the top of y/n’s head hit her headboard from throwing her head back in pleasure.

“Why’d you stop?” y/n whispered. Her hips ground against him again and she could feel how hard he had gotten. These few seconds of paused breaths were about as much fun for her as it was for him.

“I think I hear someone.” Richie blinked and sat up. His full attention had reverted to the sounds outside her room and he was sure those footsteps weren’t y/n’s imaginary friend.

y/n saw this as an opportunity to get Richie back for all the times he’s gotten at her. The accidental trips in the hallways. The snide comments. The times he’s hooked up with other girls that weren’t her. She pushed him so he laid flat on his back, all sprawled out for her. She pressed a kiss to his lips. She kissed him hard. All the pent-up anger and resentment she had towards him was released into that kiss. Her lips then trailed their way down his body. They were feather-light and tickled his freckled skin. She was careful not to make marks, but it was tempting. It was tempting not to leave a purple bruise on his hipbone only for his next hookup to ask who’s that from? And for him to reply actually, I don’t think we should do this.

y/n looked up at Richie with the same puppy dog eyes she used to wear when they were six and Richie just about had a heart attack. The girl relieved him of his confinements (and other things), only for his manhood to unveil itself. It was eager for her, the tip glazed with precum and y/n’s mouth couldn’t help but water at the thought of being the one to get him off. She took him in her dainty hands. The same hands he watched handle the knife with. The same hands that wound their way around his neck and played with his unruly hair when he was on top of her. She pumped him cautiously; tenderly, before taking him in her mouth. She first kissed the tip, remnants of precum glossing her lips, and then swallowed around him.

Richie moaned at the feeling and y/n giggled, the vibrations sending him into endless bliss. The girl below him took one of her hands and placed it over his mouth in the same way he had told her to be quiet earlier. She smiled, feeling his mouth on her hand and her mouth-

“Richie?” It was Wentworth Tozier and y/n had never been so glad to be behind closed doors. 

y/n released the hand that was cupped over his trash mouth. “Yea-yeah, dad?” His eyes were wide and not because he was in awe of the night he had been waiting for since forever, was finally happening. 

“Are you ready to go? We’ve just about finished up.” 

Richie found it all of the sudden harder to contain his sounds and the sensation of y/n’s mouth taking his length multiplied by tenfold. 

“Ye-yeah.” Richie cursed himself for turning into his stuttering friend. Except instead of a stuttering Bill, it would be a stuttering Richie. 

“You’re not having any issues in there, are you?” Wentworth pressed further and Richie’s hands flew to y/n’s hair. Her head bobbed up and down at the command of him and the only thing Richie could do now was cross his fingers for a fast release. 

“I just lost my ring,” he managed to get out. 

“Aw. It’s not the nice one, is it?” Wentworth recalled how much that one had cost. The rings Richie wore were mostly costume jewelry, aside from the one plain band made of real silver. 

“N-no.” Richie was frantic. “But it’s just one I like.”  He stifled a grunt using his own ring-clad hand—where every ring resided just fine.

“Do you need any help?” I need you to go away. 

“No!” He was suspiciously eager. “y/n’s helping me.” 

“Okay, okay. Three’s a crowd.” Wentworth knew how to take a hint. “Your mom and I’ll be waiting in the car. Please be down shortly.” 

It was only until Richie couldn’t hear his father’s footsteps anymore when he choked out a moan he’d been holding in for far too long. 

y/n separated from him after swallowing the lst of his high. She left him with a thick stripe from her tongue pressed to the underside of his cock and breaths so heavy he could barely hear himself think. 

“Christ.” Richie was still trying to find his breath and y/n only eyed him innocently. She got up from the bed to retrieve her clothes, he would have to get his own, giving him a full view of her backside. 

“You talk too much,” y/n said nonchalantly. Her hands that were once on him were now searching through her drawers for a different pair of underwear. She’d have to shower again once the Toziers left but the pooling between her thighs felt too uncomfortable to tolerate for a second more.

Richie was sat upright on y/n’s four-poster bed. His glasses were fogged, an accurate representation of how his mind felt. A weird haze kept him from thinking straight. It was different from when you smoked green and he couldn’t help but think that this was the first time he’d gotten off in weeks.

“Richie?” y/n asked almost concerned. She appeared in front of him and she looked like she came straight from one of his dreams. Her cheeks were still flushed and hot from earlier when their skin collided and she hadn’t combed the sex out of her hair yet. Richie hated the Led Zeppelin t-shirt that covered her figure and he wordlessly pleaded to stay the night, the only indication coming from his big doe eyes that were blown with lust and sinful thoughts. “Richie!”

The shrill sound of her voice made him blink and he finally saw y/n for who she was.

“You have to leave.”

“Gee, sugar. You sure welcomed my stay.” His pupils were quick to contract when they made a trip to the back of his head.

y/n scoffed and before Richie could make a smart comment he was met with his clothes thrown at his chest and another order to leave.

“The princess gets what the princess wants,” were the last spoken words before y/n slammed the bedroom door behind him. But y/n wouldn’t confess that it was Richie she fantasized about that night while her left hand traveled beneath her fresh pair of underwear. She’d pretend her fingers were his, but it wasn’t the same when she couldn’t meet the same feeling of euphoria he gave her.

Unsurprisingly, it was Richie to address their rendezvous the next day. They were at school: y/n hung by a row of lockers with Stacy at her hip as she talked about her new cheer routine.

Richie immediately spotted y/n who was sporting dark wash skinny jeans and another band tee, but the hem reached just above her navel. He faintly recognized the blondie next to her, recalling if they had ever done it or not but he assumed if y/n was friends with her the answer was most likely no.

“Hey.” His voice was coarse and a shallow part of y/n wanted to know if he had found another girl to get off with when he left her place.

“Hi.” y/n’s eyes never left Stacy’s and she pretended not to be interested in what he had to say.

“y/n.” Her stomach felt hollow at the sound of him saying her name. She digressed, still giving her friend her full attention. “y/n.” His voice was firmer now. They had all the time in the world, seemingly because it was the end of the day, but Richie needed to talk to her now.

“Can’t you see I’m trying to talk to someone?�� y/n bit back harshly. She didn’t mean it.

“Can’t you see I’m trying to talk to you?” Richie grew agitated and y/n liked the sound of desperation from him. Desperate for her.

“It’s fine, y/n.” Stacy was understanding but she shot Richie an offhanded glance that left him speechless and self-conscious. “I have practice anyway.” After she kissed y/n’s cheek goodbye, she skipped off to what y/n presumed was the football field.

“Whew, where can I get some of that action?” Richie wiggled his eyebrows which earned him a slap to his shoulder.

“What do you want?” y/n still didn’t make eye contact with the boy in front of her—a pattern he was just now starting to pick up on.

“Last night…” Richie’s eyebrow raised suggestively, and y/n knew exactly what he was hinting at just from the tone of his voice because what else had happened last night?

“Last night was a mistake,” y/n lied. She had to keep her guard up around him or else she’d get hurt.

“You think so?” Richie’s back slumped against the lockers next to hers while y/n continued to shove books into her bag. “I kinda liked it,” he admitted.

y/n’s eyes widened, and she swore her ears were deceiving her.

They weren’t.

Richie and y/n had spent the past week switching between each other’s houses. On Tuesday it was Richie’s because the ‘rents would be AWOL and on Wednesday it was y/n’s because it was her house the yearbook club would be meeting on that day and she had to be there to set up.

“I don’t see why ya have to go to that stupid thing,” Richie grunted before pushing in. “Who buys yearbooks anyways?”

“A lot of people.” y/n said, partially annoyed that they had to be fast and also annoyed at how much Richie talked during sex.

Their sessions were usually quick and sloppy. Neither taking the time for foreplay, and neither caring. Hands gripped skin and teeth clashed. As long as the other got their release, it didn’t matter. It was a system. Richie would meet y/n at her place and y/n would meet Richie at his. They’d part with a goodbye and nothing more. Anything more would be crossing the line.

It was on a Monday when Richie Tozier found himself shakily opening the handle to y/n’s front door. It was out of character for him to be nervous about this stuff, but he was. They’d been hooking up after school for a few weeks now and although they hadn’t had a session planned for today. It was like an unspoken agreement.

He didn’t bother to see if the door was locked or not. He already knew the y/l/n’s kept a spare key under the welcome mat so he welcomed himself to use it.

Her house was eerily quiet. He bet he could hear a pin drop if he tried to find the one sitting at the bottom of his backpack. But he didn’t. For a second, it occurred to Richie that no one was home. He wanted to recheck if the cars were in the driveway until he remembered y/n didn’t drive. Richie ‘Trashmouth’ Tozier was now Richie ‘The Snoop’ Tozier as he made his way up the stairs to her room. An uncomfortable stillness blanketed the air but Richie only continued his path.

He caught on quick once he saw the door to her room was open, giving Richie a full view of y/n leaning against the edge of the balcony that was connected to her bedroom.

“y/n!”

She looked peaceful as the wind lifted her hair—it would take her body too, just one push.

y/n didn’t notice her name from his lips as he called for her. The only cohesive thing that ran through her mind was the sound of her thoughts. Do it. Do it. Do it. 

She was about to. Her grip on the railing tightened before letting go completely and her feet pushed off to meet the air’s welcoming breeze. But the exoneration y/n had ever so hoped for was replaced by the tight embrace of Richie Tozier as his arms wrapped around her torso. He held her tight even though her body fell limp at his touch.

“y/n.” She wanted to crawl in a hole at her name on his tongue. The high-spirited and playful little girl Richie Tozier once knew and held close was replaced with a sad—miserable—teenager and Richie had to take a step back because it became apparent to him that he didn’t know her at all.

A hot tear burned its way down her cheek which Richie wiped with the pad of his thumb.

“Why do you care?” y/n whispered. She was too weak to move so she sat with him. She sat with his arms strewn around her to keep her from doing anything stupid.

“What do you mean why?” Richie was calm under the weight of the situation. Honey dripped from his voice, soothing her open wound and y/n reluctantly felt her body relax with his.

“We hate each other.” The words stung because honesty hurts and Richie’s dry mouth swallowed, buying him time to think of a reply.

“Where did it all go wrong, sugar?” He asked. Richie genuinely wondered what had changed between them and y/n’s heartbeat picked up rapid-fire because she remembered the events, as well as she, remembered her eighth-grade valedictorian speech.

It was the summer of ‘89. School had just let out and y/n rushed home to change from her school clothes and call up the Toziers’ landline—a number she had memorized by heart.

She threw open her closet door, blood was rushing through her veins as she decided what to wear. It took her a moment and she wondered what Richie’s favorite color was. She finally decided on blue to match his eyes.

Mrs. y/l/n had scolded y/n for running in the house because she just swept the floor and she didn’t want tracks again, but y/n didn’t care as she dialed the home phone with the precision of a hunter. y/n sat patiently in her baby blue sundress with her legs crossed on the velvet armchair while the dial tone rang. A giggle couldn’t help but escape her lips from the thrill of it all.

She’d never been so bold to call up her crush and now she was finally doing it.

“Hello?” It was Maggie Tozier’s voice and y/n could tell she hurried to the phone before this.

“Is Richie there?” y/n asked timidly. She wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t get the chance to talk to him because she died from a heart attack right there, but she praised herself in her head for containing her loose giggles.

The other end was silent for a moment. “Richie can’t come to the phone right now.” Maggie sounded sad and y/n understood. “Maybe try again tomorrow?”

She did. She had tried again that whole week and she was met with the same answer each time.

Embarrassment finally took the form of a soon-to-be-highschooler as y/n couldn’t bring herself to call the line, or even look at the phone that next week.

Summer of ‘89 went by as fast as it came. y/n had grown a few inches only for Richie to shoot up like a tree.

She’d only seen him sparingly. Once at Mr. Keene’s pharmacy where he was hanging out with Eddie, Bill, Stan, and a few other familiar faces; faces she’d seen before but couldn’t place a name to. The other times she’d seen him were at the barrens, but she couldn’t bring herself say anything to the boy, let alone look at him.

Their final meeting was on the first day of school: freshman year. Richie stood a good head above her and y/n had finally found the courage to confront him after her fun-less summer.

The days were still hot even though school had started to pick up and it didn’t help that Derry High had neglected to get their AC unit fixed until snowflakes carried through later that year. To combat the scorching sun that beat down on the Derry residents’ backs, y/n wore a yellow, pinstriped sundress that jutted out at the hip and ended above the knee. Her mom insisted she wore the new Mary Janes she’d splurged on, just for her, and to go with them she paired white frilly socks and a silver necklace.

“Hi!” y/n was hopeful that the one and only Richie Tozier hadn’t forgotten who she was over the summer of not calling back and sparse interactions. She stood at his locker and looked at him with the same puppy dog eyes she did when they were six. The same puppy dog eyes she’d give him the night he would come over for dinner and over welcome his stay in her room.

Richie stood there frozen. His hand had a death grip on the new history book he had just received earlier that day and even if he wanted to move, his muscles wouldn’t allow for such a thing. He forced a smile on his pretty lips that had snuck a cigarette in the bathroom earlier—a habit he picked up from over the summer—but didn’t say anything.

“I called you…” y/n said, a sort of sadness hinting in her words. She could tell there was something different about him, but she didn’t know what it was. “Busy summer?”

He felt his breath hitched and found his fingers, along with the other muscles in his being, able to move. Richie swiftly and recklessly stuffed the textbook in his backpack while y/n was tracing the numbers engraved on the metal plating of the locker next to his. The thrill of finally being in high school hadn’t yet left her body when all Richie could think about was when they’d get the fuck outta there. 

“You could say that.” Richie didn’t really know what happened that summer. All he knew was that there were a couple missed calls from y/n—according to his mom. And it’d be too embarrassing to try and rekindle what little they had now.

“Well, if you aren’t busy right now…” y/n’s words started to trail off, becoming a distant memory in Richie’s mind until they picked up again. “We could hang out after school?” There sparked a glimmer of hope in her big eyes and Richie felt his insides twist into a bow.

The loud, ear-piercing sound of metal hitting metal made y/n jump when Richie slammed his locker door shut. “We’re not friends.”

“What?” She was in disbelief at what the boy in front of her was saying even though he wore a straight face.

Richie sighed. “Look. I don’t know how many times I have to explain this to ya but listen good: just cos our parents are all chummy doesn’t mean we gotta be.” He hadn’t blinked since he started talking and his hard stare confirmed the awful feeling in y/n’s stomach.

“F-fine. If that’s how you feel.” y/n kept herself from bursting in front of the boy she harbored a crush for. She turned away from him and made quick to excuse herself from his presence.

y/n remembered never touching her Mary Janes after that day. They still sat in the back of her closet collecting dust—still shining as if they were new. She would spend the rest of her freshman year in t-shirts she’d cropped herself and figuring out how to get the most natural-looking tears in her jeans.

y/n remembered hating Richie Tozier ever since.

Silent tears streaked her cheek. Some fell on Richie’s sleeve and he felt guilty. “Oh, kid. I don’t hate you.” The sound of his heartbeat through his shirt soothed her, like how a lullaby calmed a child. Richie didn’t expect an answer from the girl in his arms. He just stroked her hair and hoped she’d stay as still as she was in his arms when it was time for him to go.

“Regina hates me.”

y/n gave Richie no further explanation as to why three became two in her already small group of friends. It was earlier that day when she had found out Regina Carmichaels had been talking to Ellie Wozniack behind her back—revealing y/n’s deepest secrets and embarrassing stories—since grade school. She only found out from Stacy who was in the handicapped stall during her lunch period. The cheerleader was doodling pink hearts on the wall that separated the two toilets in the girl’s bathroom next to the cafeteria when she heard a familiar voice groan in disgust about how much she couldn’t stand y/n. It was in study hall when y/n and Stacy finally shared a period when Stacy told her friend what she’d heard and seen through the crack of the door.

“My mom hates me.” y/n’s voice cracked, and Richie felt his grip tighten. She didn’t go into detail either. She didn’t have to.

“You have me,” Richie whispered in her ear. His thumb traced indistinguishable patterns against the sleeve of her shirt much like the night that started it all. One last sob escaped her dry throat and y/n felt herself turning in Richie’s arms.

Her eyes meticulously searched his, noting every fleck of color, every detail. His mirrored hers in expression and she felt her heartbeat slow.

The two didn’t have to say anything, they just knew.

It was Richie who pressed a kiss to her temple. The soft skin of his lips made their way down to her lips—they spent extra time on her cheekbone which was wet and salty from the tears that streamed down it.

The other times y/n and Richie kissed, it was rushed, neither of them taking the time to notice the other; only caring about getting off. But as Richie’s soft lips captured y/n’s, it was different from the times before. It was slow as each party took the time to explore each crevice of each other’s mouth and discover the natural feeling that stayed hidden in the pit of their stomachs in which only at this moment did it reveal itself.

The kiss they shared exuded a feeling y/n had never felt with him the previous times their bare skin found each other. It was nice. Richie was taking all the precious minutes he had with her and it was as if he were seeing her for the first time.

A certain feeling of loss washed over both of them when they had to pull apart for air. When her lips were bare, the only thing y/n wanted being to feel him on her again.

“I never meant to hurt you.” Richie took her hand in his. He knew he wasn’t the sole reason for all her problems, but he could be the one to relieve her of at least one.

y/n was quiet. Her hand squeezed his, letting him know she heard him. “Stay with me?”

“I’ll stay with you forever,” Richie said, his words only loud enough for her to hear, only meant for her to hear.

[jayflrt]

ahhhh i think tumblr ate it but i was just saying how i noticed deceit was released and i'll use as motivation when i finish some big tests this week (i will literally start reading it the second i hand in my last test on friday)

and omg manifesting the digipacks for you !🕯

cb shows for me are usually either at like 4/5am (depending on daylight savings) or 8/9am which is when i need to be in school at so </3 there's enough clips going around for me to know the main parts tho so im not too worried abt missing them haha 😅 DURING THE SUMMER THO i make sure to watch it (since i only dont sleep at normal hours then anyways ahsjjf) i watched tbz's cb show for thrill ride and maverick ✨️ thought they were on naver live so the video was like vertical and i didnt like that 👎

well besides the tests i have this week im doing pretty well! i also recently joined my school's prom committee so we're planning for that and its very exciting since it'll be the first in person even we can host since the pandemic 😭! (i also need to find a prom dress and i dont want to break the bank yet in case there's a world tour or smth)

i also just saw the multiple cases of plagiarism and it genuinely upsets me so much how people cant respect other's intellectual property (it also freaking happens like every week in here or smth like what 😭😭) but that last one was rly fishy bc they found it so fast;;; it rly sometimes does feel like people just do it on purpose for fun with a new blog and make people feel like shit and just deactivate and thats so 👺👺 its just a low move like have people rly not. have anything better to do 😭

AND ITS MONDAY boooo (well tuesday since its past midnight for me) lets hope the rest of the week can go on peacefully 🤧 i hope everything else is well on your end too (besides the situation mentioned above)

- 🌻

I THINK IT DID EAT IT :((( because im seeing the wrong number in my ask box for the number of asks i can see in it,, like it won't show up even tho there's supposed to be more :(( AHH GOOD LUCK WITH YOUR TESTS THO 🤧 SCREW DECEIT IT CAN WAIT <333 so does that mean your exams are over tomorrow ?? :o 

im so nervous for the digipacks HAHAH like i dont mind any member i get BUT IM SO IMPATIENT I WANT IT NOW >:(( omg tbh i like watching comeback shows more than award shows so i like staying up to watch them 🥰 but it's not the end of the world if i miss it bc ppl record + upload clips HAHAH i even watched a whole treasure comeback show live with addy when i didnt even stan treasure 😭 HELP and for enha i remember she facetimed me so i could show her their live on my phone when i had no idea who they were 💀 

now i would definitely defend that deformed heart with my life 💀

tbh my non engene days were so funny i had no idea who those boys were LMFAO and i dont think ive watched a tbz comeback show actually omg,, maybe i will have to sacrifice some sleep for changmin and jacob <333 

ALSO HAVE FUN WITH PROM COMMITTEE !! that sounds so fun actually omg D; i hope it's a good experience for you !! 💗 omg prom dress shopping is so exciting :'') what color/style were you thinking of ?? my gown was pink i loved it so much 💖 

and right,,, these recent plagiarism cases have been making me rlly suspicious and kinda sick :// i seriously hope people grow up and realize that internet clout ultimately amounts to absolutely nothing. plagiarizing people's work..... how low are you going to stoop for a few notes 😞 also i was a little tipsy when i saw the ask that i got plagiarized LMFAO i was literally telling addy why couldnt they plagiarize me when i was sober 😭 but on a more serious note about that ask..... it was literally 10 min after the fic was posted and the account was new and not visible and the post didnt show in the tags so im VERY confused :/ 

but i hope the rest of your week is smooth sailing love !! and good luck on those exams again 🥰 thank you for such kind words HAHAH i think it'll be a good weekend !! just busy :'') hope you have a wonderful day/night <33 

[extremelyblackandwhite]

handmaid - prelude

PAIRING: mob!sebastian stan x ingenue!reader

WARNINGS: age gap

A/N: i’m so excited to be starting this fanfic a bit sooner than expected, but i’ve been outlining it since i finished the outline and end for the unseen one and decided to go ahead with it when i saw a nice pink aesthetic board. i hope you enjoy the prelude, let me know what you think xx

NEXT CHAPTER

handmaid: a female servant, a subservient partner or element.

The lights were unusual shades of blue, green, and red. That was the first thing she noticed as she walked inside the club Genevieve had picked for her last night of freedom, as she called it. Of course the lights weren’t the only thing that was bothering Y/N: the loud music which made it impossible to have a civil regular conversation, the heels that were too tall and did not belong to her, the equally borrowed tight see through black dress, the long earrings that got tangled in her hair whenever she slightly turned her head to the side, the constant on/off rhythm of the lights and the need to squeeze between a sea of people to get anywhere were some of the things that made her want to return home, curl in a nice thick cozy throw and watch TV until her eyes were too heavy to remain open.

Nevertheless, she was to be constantly by Genevieve’s, or Gwen as she preferred to be called, side, mostly by her father’s orders. Therefore, here she was in a Friday night, dressed in mostly Gwen’s hand me downs that would normally lay in a cardboard box in the back of her wardrobe. Soon enough, Gwen had found herself a nice booth, after all being the daughter and apparent heir to the west mob family had its perks. Sometimes, even more perks than dangers. 

       - Oh, Y/N this is Nathan. - Gwen introduced her to one of the man that were sat at her booth. He was the picture perfect look of man she normally surrounded herself with, the type of man you would see in a teen sitcom with plump skin and a Californian-like vibe to them. It wasn’t exactly a hard job for her to attract them either as the young heiress was, in a word, stunning. Her unruly red locks were constantly slicked back in a straight hairstyle, dark makeup and a red pout constantly got her whatever she wanted. However, tonight she was kissing all of that goodbye as first thing in the morning, she would finally be formally presented to that who was to be her husband. 

It had been arranged way before Gwen had even been born and despite the glamourisation and complete debauchery seen in most mobster movies Y/N had grown up watching, most weddings occurred that way, planned. This one in particular was a special one considered the Stan family mafia and Gwen’s had been sworn enemies until the day she was born when her father signed her hand away. It was mostly a tactic to unite both families in a way that was very permanent. Y/N had learned not to be shocked about it, however, she still didn’t like to think of two grown men deciding the future of a unborn baby girl as if she were currency. Yet again, she was a woman and since she had an older brother, who despite working as a doctor and giving up on the lifestyle ages ago was still pretty much the one expected to take on the mob boss title, she was either to life in complete bliss or to get married. 

Her betrothed however was a completely different story. Gwen wasn’t much to talk about either, saying that they had met once when she was eighteen at a formal her father had thrown and that he had pretty much ignored her the whole night, so most of what Y/N knew about him came from rumours. The Stan mob family had quite a reputation, specially when it came to hits and their associates, however they were always somehow shrouded in mystery. Sebastian Stan himself was one to adore that sort of aura, so much that despite it all, Y/N had never seen him or knew what he looked like. She knew him to be older than Gwen, with a sharp tongue and a certain allure that attracted bottom feeders, but other than that, she knew nothing.

      - Gwen, we should probably go home. - she urged, constantly checking her phone and watching the hour number increase as if time was nothing. However, the young girl had no absolute interest in going home, specially when she had found herself a rather interesting company. - Gwen, your father is gonna be mad. 

      - If you’re so worried about my father then don’t question me. - Gwen returned to her flirtatious conversation with the blonde boy, leaving Y/N to huff, grab the pink sugary drink she’d been drinking for the past two hours, and venture herself in the club, they sure probably had a smoking lounge which led to some sort of air she could inhale. In all honesty, even inhaling smoke sounded better than inhaling the smells of the main floor. 

Weak on her feet due to the oversized and worn out heels, she made her way through the crowd, her eyes paying no help at finding any sort of stairs of doors that would led to some sort of freedom due to the constant blinking lights. Defeated, she decided it would be better to return to Gwen before she decided to abandon her for Malibu Ken however, Y/N quickly found herself in the middle of the dance floor being pushed from side to side. Whenever she tried to walk some way, the sea of people would make her walk the other way like some helpless puppet until she hit something rock hard, spilling her drink and sending her crashing to the floor. She felt her chest hit the coloured blinking ground hard, and had it not been for her own hands holding onto the floor, her head would’ve ping ponged off the pavement too. 

Nevertheless, none of that mattered because what first came in sight as she looked ahead were what looked like a very nice pair of leathered shoes which made her face pale and her heart stop. She had spilled her drink on someone. No, not just someone. Someone either rich or with enough connections to get inside one of the most elite clubs of all of New York. 

Y/N looked up, not completely being able to make up every single feature of his face but being able to make up that it was a man, a much taller man who probably did not have a smile on his face. At the thought of being screamed at or thrown out, she immediately rushed to her feet, noticing the big pinkish stain spreading on what looked like a pristine crisp cotton dress shirt. Her hands flew to the napkin holders in one of the tables, immediately grabbing enough tissues to clean a whole country only to dab the drink out of his shirt, her heart racing as nothing came out of it. 

     - I’m so sorry. - she probably said for the 100th time, tissues bunched in her hands as she finally got a good look of his face. He had an unreadable look on what she thought was probably the single most gorgeous face she had ever seen in her whole entire life, and that was something coming out of someone who had met half the models at Paris Fashion Week with Gwen. It was somehow being stoic and classic, like a 50′s mysterious Marlon Brando. He stopped her motions, grabbing the tissues from her hand and placing it at the bar. That was it, this is how I die, Y/N thought to herself. - I’m so sorry, I’m ... I can pay for the shirt, I really didn’t mean to spill it on you. I just wanted to get some air but everything is confusing here and ...

     - It’s alright, angel. - the man raised his hands, showing no harm but still maintaining an aura of mystery, almost as if she wasn’t supposed to be talking to him. 

     - I have to return to my friend. - she stumbled onto her feet, praying not to fall in front of anyone else as he looked at her leaving. She was just a doll and he couldn’t help but observe as she got lost in the middle of the crowd like a sheeps in a wolf’s den. He was hypnotised by her figure in that god awful oversized dress, thinking about how beautiful it would look draped on his floor, how radiant her eyes appeared looking up at him ..

    - Everything alright, boss? - his view of the crowd was obstructed, the clear sight of her disappearing and being replaced by the ugly mug of one of his men. Had he had his gun with him, he would’ve been laying on a pool of his own blood right now. - We saw the girl and ...

    - And now you’re gonna go fucking look for her. Invite her to the VIP room, don’t keep me waiting. - he watched as they rushed into the crowd like headless chickens looking for a girl they barely got a look of. He snickered, taking a step forward to return to the only place where it didn’t stink of cheap liquor. He stopped, noticing he had stepped on something and slowly moved his feet away to see a small dainty necklace with a pendant that looked like some sort of bird. The man scrunched his face as he lowered to grab the chain, probably some cheap metal, before sticking it in his pocket, taking a quick look of the crowd.

Y/N meanwhile was being dragged out of the sleazy club by Gwen who was no longer interested in her boy toy. The girl couldn’t lie, she was happy she was being dragged away from the club, however, rushing down the street in oversized heels. Due to the rush of exercise and adrenaline coursing through her blood and turning her rather breathless which led to her putting her hand over her chest and noticing the lack of her necklace’s chain.

      - Wait, Gwen. - she stopped the heiress before they could get inside the car where the chauffeur had been patiently waiting their arrival. - My necklace, I don’t have my necklace.

      - Maybe you didn’t bring it, Y/N. - the redhead spoke up, already inside the car, phone in hand. - C’mon, it’s probably home. 

      - I’m sure I brought it.

      - You’re worrying too much, c’mon. - Gwen patted the leather seat of the car. The young girl took a long full look at the club, Gwen was probably right, maybe she didn’t bring the necklace. With a quick motion, she closed the door of the car, watching as the club became more and more distant. 

A memory.

[beauregard-s]

Out of His League | Eddie Kaspbrak

Pairing: Eddie Kaspbrak x Reader (21+)

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: language, alcohol, fluff, protected sex!, oral (male receiving), slightly sub!Eddie? Kind of a comfort fic? Eddie going through a hard time

@buckybarton03 said: “ hey!! can i request adult eddie x reader she’s not in the losers club be he brings her with him to derry to meet everyone and he gets super jealous over how good richie & reader get along :)”

A/n: First, my infinite apologies because it took so so long! But here it is and I hope you like it <3

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“Richie, no!” At least three different voices shouted.

“Richie, yes!”

And, as he roared at the top of his lungs, Richie threw his head back and swallowed the third blow job shot in a roll as you grimaced at that in between your laugh. 

Yours and the whole table’s - Bill had snorted so hard he ended up spitting his drink. And, leaning against Eddie with his chin resting against your temple, you felt him chuckle. Not laugh. Chuckle.

Coming to Derry and meeting your boyfriend’s ride-or-die friends was scary in the beginning, sent you into a quiet anxiety spiral. You and Eddie met a year before and you never got the chance to personally get to know the famous Losers Club, the gang Eddie would always tell you about while nostalgically looking at the few childhood pictures he still had. You were not usually worried about what people would think about or if they’d like you, but when you found yourself flying over to Maine, you were pretty worried about your social skills. You just hoped you got along with them because if you didn’t you’d never forgive yourself.

You knew Eddie went through a lot during his life in that place and you also knew those six people were his real family, everything safe he had during those years of manipulation and abuse. If his friends didn’t like you, if something went wrong in any way... It’d break his heart. 

You were stepping on thin ice. Until you met them.

You understood Eddie’s awe and loyalty to them right away. They were welcoming, they were fun and indeed, all of them together felt like a big family that engulfed you in. You got along with each of them, even with Stan’s fiancée, Patty, but Richie was the one you clicked with immediately after he hugged you and asked you what bet did you lose to end up with Eddie.

And Eddie was in pure bliss through the week of your little vacation, happy all his favorite people were getting along so well, but you noticed something there. The way his mood slowly shrunk to the point he spent that whole Saturday quieter. You knew something was bothering him even if he was sitting so relaxed in the restaurant, his arm resting on your chair around your shoulders, smiling at Richie’s tommyrot. 

“Come on, y/n/n,” Richie coughed, choking due to the strong alcohol dose. “Drink a shot.”

“No way...” You shook your head immediately.

“Come on, y/n!” He whined. “Show us your skills!”

You lifted a brow at Richie’s devilish look, and Eddie exhaled a bit loudly by your side while Beverly went “beep beep Richie” mode in the background.

“The only one supposed to know my skills here is Eddie, Richie.”

There were a pair of whistles from across the table, maybe from Bill and Mike, and Richie raised his hands in rendition. 

“Hey, Haystack! You do it!”

You looked away from Richie now teasing Ben and pressuring the poor guy on drinking raw tequila shots, paying attention to Eddie. He was taking the last sip of his virgin peach cocktail - because he was the one driving and god forgive it if he drank before driving.

“You okay? Wanna another one?” 

He didn’t look at you, just shook his head.

“No, I’m good.”

“Really?”

That was your “I don’t believe in you, so I’m giving you a second chance to spill your tea” tone, and that made Eddie turn at you flashing a half-smile, thumb rubbing circles on your shoulder.

“Sure, babe.”

But of course he lied. He was, yes, dreary. So much he was silent through the whole way back to the hotel later and, when Bill and Stan wanted to stay outside for a while, enjoying the last hours they all had together before going to bed and flying back home in the morning, Eddie claimed he had a headache and a lot to pack and went straight upstairs the small hotel.

You knew his baggage was immaculate and ready by your bed. And he never had headaches.

His mother always claimed he was an ill boy, but, in fact, Eddie never got sick in any way, so it sent the red alert in your head and you followed him quietly through the way until you were safe and alone in your room.

“Eddie,” you cooed, locking the door behind you as he shrugged his jacket off, “are you telling me what’s wrong or…?”

He threw the garment over his suitcase in the corner, turning on his heels to face you.

“What? No, I’m okay! Really am.” He did it again, gave you that half-smile to try to mislead you away from the things he sometimes hid inside.

But you didn’t buy it. Leaned against the door, arms crossed in front of your chest. Locked eyes with him trying to find a gap, a minimal clue of what was going on, inevitably paying attention to his pink lips from your strawberry chapstick he’d borrow here and there.

“You are not.” 

Your unconscious pouting was enough to make him break.

It was sudden. How his shoulders dropped slightly and he sighed, rubbing his face in the frustration he knew well but he thought he had left behind.

“It’s just…” He muttered. “I’m jealous, you know?”

You pushed up from the door immediately, gaping slightly at his words but he was faster, raising a hand so you’d let him explain himself. 

“I’m not implying anything,” he smiled again, more truly this time, but sadder. “It’s just that…”

You perceived him struggling. He always struggled.

You remembered the day you met him. You were about to finish your internship in this huge company’s advertising department when you sat across this junior analyst guy during a meeting. Him. Eddie struggled all the time with his graphs, so nervous you could feel it from your seat. And when he looked up and saw you smiling at him, he froze for a second, growing ten times as nervous after that.

After he got to know who was the girl sitting in front of him at that table through two hours of pure boredness, it took him a whole month up the courage to ask you out. When he did, you smiled brightly and told him you were out at 6 pm next Friday. 

And he felt his anxiety lower, just like it did in that hotel room when he saw how worried you were.

“I’m…” he crinkled his nose because the words for what he was feeling would sound too ridiculous. “I’m just jealous, y/n.”

You frowned.

“Jealous?”

“Yes.”

“Of?...” You gave him the lead.

“You and Richie.”

Your gape grew. 

Eddie hummed frustratedly, miserably letting himself sink into the edge of the mattress. Its springs made this little sound that annoyed him because it implied how old that was and he wouldn’t stand thinking about the clean status of that thing.

“Eddie…” 

“No, I know nothing is going on, okay!” He said, looking at his feet. “I know there’s no real reason for feeling this way and that it’s just me being paranoid.”

“And do you wanna elaborate or…?” You encouraged him.

He wanted to because you were the one who managed to get him, to soothe him. But he didn’t know how to do it with proper words.

“You know what Richie’s about. All the stuff I told you, and the stuff you saw the last few days. He’s the funny and popular one. I love him, I really do, don’t get me wrong but it didn’t stop me from thinking he kinda overshadowed me through our high school years, through college.”

You nodded although he wasn’t looking at you at the moment. He was so troubled he didn’t see you stepping out of your boots and walking over to him, only noticing how close you were when your shadow covered him. 

“He always got more attention?” You said.

Eddie looked up, chuckling in embarrassment. “And the girls.”

You rolled your eyes and he groaned lowly in frustration. He held around your hips when you started running your fingers through his hair.

“You’re jealous because he keeps teasing me?”

“Yeah? Come on, you two look like you’ve been friends since ever,” his slightly more playful tone relaxed you. He was getting some relief by talking about it.

And indeed, you spent time with all the Losers but grew closer to Richie than the others for no special reasons. He’d pick on you, on Eddie. Would make great-horrible jokes and some great-great ones that got you laughing every time. It was simple affinity, but you could see where it stang on Eddie. 

So you dropped your hand to his face and tilted his chin up. He finally looked at you, resting against your ribs.

“You know there are no real reasons for that though, don’t you?” You said softly.

He pulled away and his eyes quickly glanced down over the tight blouse and the skirt hugging your hips. 

“To be honest, I do. You’re the hottest, smartest woman on earth and way out of his league…”

“Edward!” You slapped his shoulder softly.

But he was laughing, finally laughing. 

“You know it’s true and yeah, okay” he whispered, arms around your waist squeezing you tighter against him. “It’s just my fucking insecurity talking because I know you’re out of my league too.”

“I’m totally in your league…”

“Oh, tell me about it.”

Eddie was practical. Words didn’t have much effect on his uneasy mind, so you felt the need to show him what you meant and you did it by lowering down to settle on his lap.

You didn’t break your eyes from his nor even for a second while your arms embraced his neck.

“There’s no need for it all,” you pecked his lips once. “Because you’re the one I’m in love with.” You pecked him twice and the last one turned into a deep kiss.

You felt the strawberry chapstick flavor when you nip on his lips because you knew exactly what it did to him. How it made a low grunt raise from the deep of his throat and his hips buck up slightly. The same goes for his neck and how kissing down his adam’s apple makes him sigh.

“Y/n/n…” he breathes out.

“Shut up and let me take care of you,” you cut him off, your purred voice and hands pulling off his shirt making him surrender.

Pressing your chest on his made him fall back on the mattress and you laid on top. The way his cheeks were already flustered made you feel those renowned butterflies inside. That and his hands pulling your skirt up until it was rucked around your waist. Eddie still had a ghost of a grin on and you made it disappear under your hips grinding against his.

“No shit, babe…” he groaned alongside the little moan you let out, feeling his hardening cock rubbing against your clothed slit.

For each time you rolled your lips, still committed to the task of kissing his sweet spot, Eddie’s sounds escalated a tone. His fingers dig into your hips, pushing you down against him, whimpering you stopped and got off him. His lidded eyes watched you stripping, as his hand immediately went for his jeans, pushing them way so fast he got you chuckling. 

“Eager,” you teased. 

“This isn’t new,” he retorted, eyebrow raising slightly. 

But his attitude was washed away as soon as your skirt fell on the floor. Eddie wasn’t that much about lingerie, but you were wearing the laced set he gave you. 

That was an unfair game. And the way you kneeled on the floor in between his legs was the unfairest one.

He sat up when you mouthed his clothed length before tugging down the boxers, earning yourself a moan as soon as your lips brushed the sensitive tip. You smiled up at him, something between a cute and devious one that had him gasping for air even before you attached your lips to him, tasting his precum. 

An entire rope of curse came weakly from him, a hand of his going for your hair and pushing it back so he could see exactly what you were doing. You kept your eyes on his all the time, sucking him slowly, moaning and vibrating him. He was holding back, you felt he was, only brushing your hair when what he really wanted to do was wrap it around his hand and fuck your mouth. But he didn’t do that. 

You said you were the one taking care of him that night and he let you.

Let you wrap your lips around him and swirl your tongue, making him whine, twitch in need when you sucked bolder, pulling him out with a little ‘pop’. 

“Holy shit, y/n,” he panted.

“What, babe?” You pumped him through your pause. “Does it feel good?”

Eddie wasn’t able to stand up to the tease when you resumed blowing him. The way you dragged your tongue over the weak spot underneath his tip making his hips stutter and heat gather in there. 

You pulled away as soon as he started twitching harder, feeling your slickness in your underwear. You rose kissing the ‘v’ muscles of his hips, all the way up his chest while pulling his boxers down completely, straddling him again. 

Eddie immediately unclasped your bra and leaned into your chest, tracing the tip of his tongue around a nipple of yours before sucking it. His breath hitched when you cried out from that, doing it again and again, from a breast to the other, biting up your neck. 

“I wanna fuck you so much, love…” He looked at your heated face, swallowing dry to the words that slipped off. “Please…”

His little moment of weakness was enough for you to reach down and touch him again. “What do you want? Say it again.”

He panted under how soft you could sound even when you were making him beg like that, reaching down for his pants on the floor, shaking his wallet open with your free hand and grabbing a condom he had in it. Tearing it open with your teeth.

“I want to fuck you,” he whimpered at how you unrolled it on his cock and pumped him. “Please, babe…Oh, fuck!”

You had pulled your underwear aside, guiding him in.

“Do it then,” you tried to keep your voice steady.

And it wasn’t possible. 

Your demands turned into moans as he laid back, not even remembering about the noisy mattress. In fact, he liked the sound it made when you started to ride him. He liked how it joined your moans and his sharp breaths. 

And that beautiful pleasured face of yours on top of him…

He didn’t like it. He loved it. Kept watching you the whole time, how you bounced perfectly on him, feeling so wet. How you held onto his arms when he caressed your sides and cupped your breasts. You were both being loud, but who cared? He wanted to be loud as it was a way of showing who you belonged to at the end. And how he belonged to you, too.

He started to thrust up against you as soon and he felt the tightening sensation around him. You were close, so damn close feeling him hitting the soft spot inside you. Feeling him massaging your breasts like that, fucking so fast into you.

“Eddie…”

The way you came saying his name drove him straight through the edge with you. He gripped your waist tightly as he thrust sloppily through your high, the way you pulsed around him making him smirk. And, when you couldn’t stand anymore, Eddie pulled you down to lay down on him.

You gladly took the chance because you felt your whole body falling apart. Laid down on him and nuzzled into his neck, his chest wavering you up and down. His occasional pleasured humming here and there making you smile.

“Still jealous, honey?” 

If he had his eyes open, he’d have rolled them at your mocking tone. 

“Not that much,” he admitted.“I love you so much, y/n,” 

He whispered lazily, hand caressing the low of your back, a blissful smile on his lips you couldn’t see, but you could feel. 

The butterflied were there again.

“I know, and I love you too, Eddie.” You adjusted yourself slightly and he whined, still buried inside you. “Sorry,”

He chuckled. “Don’t be, just… Give me some time.”

“Yeah? Why?” You raised a brow. He chuckled.

“Because in round two I’ll be the one taking care of you.”

[whumphoarder]

Do you know any good fics where Peter is disoriented from either being hurt or sick?

Oof, you’re in luck. Delirious Peter is one of my faves so I’ve got a truly absurd amount:

Elevator Freeway by @awesomesockes & @whumphoarder

Delirious and bleeding out from a gunshot wound, Peter struggles to describe his location to a very worried Tony.

Fevers, Bananas, & Math Lessons by @whumphoarder

Peter has the flu at the lake house and, in his confused state, thinks it's time to head to school. Morgan and Tony play along.

Every spider has its day (but today is not that day) by @frostysunflowers

"Peter, it’s very important that you stay awake."

"Really? Oh, okay, Karen, whatever you say."

"I have informed Mister Stark of your condition and location. He is en route and will be with you soon."

"Mister Stark?"

"He is approximately two minutes away."

"Oh...Why?"

or

Peter finds himself facing off with an unlikely foe.

you heal me like the light of day by @searchingforstarss

Peter tries to hide a stab wound and an infection-fuelled fever is never any fun. Also, it turns out that Beck is still lurking in Peter's mind much more than anyone realised.

stitch and stitches by @searchingforstarss

Peter bleeds out in a guinea pig enclosure at Morgan’s sixth birthday party.

beam me up, mr. chewbacca by @iron--spider

(Peter’s lack of sleep and self-preservation gets him into major trouble on a mission)

don't go, my darling (don't leave me behind) by @madasthesea

After Peter gets accidently drugged, he confuses Tony for Ben while in a precarious situation.

Condiments can't play doctor by 14million_constellations

“Are you on the mayonnaise clinic?”

That gets Tony to look up instantly. Peter stares at him with genuine interest, the fever flushed high on his cheeks. “What?”

“The… the Mayo Clinic. Online. My friend told me about it.”

Tony shakes his head in amusement. “Nope. Not on the mayonnaise clinic… or even WebMD for that matter. I’m texting Bruce. Who is an actual doctor by the way.”

(Or, Peter with food poisoning)

Think too hard by @builder051

A migraine hits unexpectedly, and Peter doesn't want to worry his aunt. He settles on calling the next-best person to help...

too bad (but it’s the life you lead) by jessicagoddamnjones

“Are you even listening to what I’m saying?”

Peter nodded.

“Jesus, kid—“ he stopped and spun around, placing his hands on Peter’s shoulders. ”Would you please just talk to me? I—I know that what happened is scary. Believe me, I almost shit my pants, but you’re safe now. You’re with me. Do you really think I’d let anything happen to you?”

I think you don’t have a choice, Peter thought. “No,” he said.

(Or, Peter getting absolutely whammied and having no memory of what happened)

For Pete's Sake! by @kitcat992

Maybe he’d feel better if he closed his eyes, just for a second. It was too dark to see anything clearly anyway, and he’d be able to concentrate better without seeing how fast the ground was coming up to meet him.

A rush of wind sent goosebumps across his skin before two strong hands gripped his shoulders tightly, keeping him upright and from nose-diving straight into the alleyway cement.

Peter snapped his eyes open, blinking a couple times to clear his vision. Everything was blurry. Was that…?

“...ice cream man!?”

(Or, Peter gets a serious head injury)

flushed away by synebee

“I’m dying,” he decides, flushing the toilet and resting his forehead against the rim. He feels disgusting. “I’m dying, I’m gonna die. Spider-Man dies to ravioli.”

“Should I alert Boss?” Friday chirps, and Peter groans, waving a hand uselessly.

“No, m’fine,” he grumbles. “WebMD will save me.”

or: peter gets food poisoning & tony takes care of him.

Scaredy Cat by @sallyidss

Tony gets a call from Peter one night asking for help because he’s being followed in the street by someone or something dangerous. Tony hops into his suit and heads out to rescue Peter. When he arrives, he discovers that the “danger” isn’t exactly what he was expecting, and Peter learns that certain recreational pastimes don’t have quite the same effect on him that they do on most people.

Wrap Me Up And Hold Me Close by @spider-man-stan

In which Peter Parker comes up with some ~creative~ coping mechanisms (for a fever-induced nightmare), the likes of which Tony Stark hasn't seen before.

Focus by happybeans

"Stay with me," Mr. Stark says. "We've been taken—you're the only one who can get us out of here."

------------

Or, Tony Stark talks a drugged-up Spider-Man through a kidnapping escape.

Flying High by @blondsak & @seek-rest

“I think Coach Wilson is ready to get started.”

Peter glances over to the man who, contrary to what Ned said looked bored out of his mind. Peter wonders if Michelle was going to watch him during tryouts - only to wonder if that would be worse, considering his inability to focus when she was around.

He sneaks a glance towards her, only to see her eyes widen - his senses screaming at him a second too late as he hears someone call out, “Watch out!”

Peter doesn’t even get a chance to see what he should watch out for when everything around him turns to black.

mind games. by @seek-rest

Peter can immediately tell something is wrong, his senses dialed up so wildly that he can’t focus on anything, barely feeling like he’s moving forward on the sidewalk as he tries to reach the Tower.

Laughing. Yelling. Crying. Screaming. Talking. It all mixes together in an awful cacophony of sounds, so loud that he’s convinced that his ears are bleeding as he walks forward.

5 Times Peter Fell, and Tony caught him. And the 1 Time Tony didn’t. by eva7673  [chap 2: Cloud Fall]

“I feel like I’m falling.” The words trickled out of Peter’s mouth before they’d really even formed, but Tony understood them. Peter was sure. Because the next moment those hands were pressing down a little harder, a solid weight on his shoulder and chest. Grounding him. “You’re not.”

Follow the Pipes by @midsommersolstice

Tony wakes up at the bottom of a bomb shelter with a concussed Peter next to him, their only means of escape being a hatch 40 feet directly above them.

Chemical Delirium by @midsommersolstice

“Fri, bring the lights up. Now,” he ordered. The lights rose and Tony’s anxiety rose with it. There were large damp patches over Peter's light blue t-shirt where he had sweat through it and his skin was flushed a dark pink.

------Or------

Peter arrives late to Tony's lab and begins to exhibit some alarming symptoms.

to infinity and beyond by Trickster88

“Ben.”

The word freezes Tony in place, and his gaze darts back to Peter’s face. His brow is scrunched, frown turning down the edges of his lips, but his eyes are open. His eyes are open and he’s staring straight at Tony.

But then he says it again. “Ben.”

[occasionaloneshots]

Gang Mom- Bowers Gang

So, I write a lot of fanfiction on my own just like for myself, I’m working on one now with the bowers gang (If I actually power through and finish it I’m gonna have Chapter 2 sequel called “Club Mom” but that’s off topic, might actually post it somewhere one day) But I wanted to share the summary/blurb for it.

987 words

    No one really understood how she ended up with them, she was too nice. The kindness was in her own special way at times, yet definitely too nice for Henry. But she was at the sides of the Bowers gang from the time the met in the first grade, how they met was never really known by others, but that’s how they had always been. Two boys on the calmer side, an angrier boy with a temper, and their female voice of reason. And everyone learned to accept that was how it is.

    Of course there was rumors. The losers club seemed to be the worst with gossip about why a girl who would go out of her way to point out birds to Stan if they somehow got put together and laughed at Richie’s jokes would be in the Bowers gang. They swore there had to be some sort of secret relationship there, but even then none of them could see how she was fit for them. But it was fueled by the little things. How she was the only one allowed to touch Henry, and how after a few months of him having it, his pink leather jacket found its way to her shoulders, the girl hardly being seen without it after that. Or how Belch Huggins would let her drive his car, her own mixtape blasting from its speakers. Then there was Victor Cross and how the two were always leaning on to each other, sharing a cigarette when or laughing at each other. And yet, they didn’t mind it, because as long as Hailey was with them, the losers were safe. They swear she has some sort of secret soft spot for them. 

    And then came Patrick Hockstetter, rowdy and always seeming to egg on Henry. Everyone swore that would be the pint that she left the Bowers Gang, that he would be her last straw with them. Yet, she stayed, if you looked through the windshield at the group you’d see the way she sat leaning back, a smile pressed to her lips as Patrick and Victor leaned over her. She would crack a joke, sending the two in the front seat into laughter as the two in the back with her shoved her around. And unless you really looked, you wouldn’t notice a change in them. Unless you realized the way she and Vic lean into each other’s sides, became more of a cling, an arm around her shoulders and one around his waist. Or the way she was more gentle with Henry when he’s mad than she used to be. Perhaps you saw the protective nature Belch picked up over her, even letting her drive his car more than Henry would ever be allowed to.  But you could also see that despite all the changes, they were somehow still the same.

    One could almost find it comical, the way the original four members would share a silent conversation before she answered some of Patrick’s questions. And you could see the way things minorly changed in her bag, new snacks being thrown in that she never carried before, more Band-Aids and even gauze and medical tape found their way in. She even started to carry around pain meds. Because she cared for them, she was the gangs Achilles heel. And they were her boys, despite their obvious flaws. But then there was four again, then two, that damn clown, and then one, crying in a sewer.

Henry Bowers 

 “I’m okay, really- NO I don’t have a concussion! Relax a little.”

Cabin fever- CORPSE 

“ I just want some loyal brothers, makin' money, tryna grind, but/Y'all just wanna talk, man, that shit's so hard to find”  “ When they fuckin' want me happy, I ain't fuckin' play pretend”

Reginald “Reggie” “Belch” Huggins

“Careful! Turn here- you know where I live.” 

Teenage Dirtbag- Wheatus 

“ How does she know who I am?/And why does she give a damn about me?/I've got two tickets to Iron Maiden, baby/Come with me Friday, don't say maybe/I'm just a teenage dirtbag, baby, like you” Victor “Vic” Criss

“Couldn’t I just stay here? Henry was in such a mood yesterday and your mom wouldn’t catch me here anyway.”

SICK OF IT ALL - blackbear

“ And all I want/Is someone really there, baby/Sick of all the songs, reminding me/That I'm really still all alone” “ I'm getting kind of sick of everything that's in my life/I'm sick of my girl, sick of my dawgs/I'm sick of my crib, I'm sick of it all”

Patrick "Pat" Hockstetter

“Hey Hales, you got a can of hairspray in there?” 

Golden God- MGK 

“I'm a golden god, I'm a golden god/I'm on the roof of the party/Still almost famous, still all the way dangerous”

Hailey “Hales” “Hailstorm” Black 

“As if they would ask questions if I genuinely asked them to go after someone, now scram. Hey, do you need some help with that?” 

Dancer in the Dark - Chase Atlantic 

“ Oh baby, maybe it's that look in your eyes/They been telling me she wanna leave/She's been dancing with the devil all night/It's like Hell is where she wanna be” “I love to watch her dance/When the light's all gone her emotion shows/I love to watch her dance/Seems like tragedy is all she knows”

[stupidjewkyle]

request from @im-just-star-dust

cartman x reader

my friend, eric- part 1

TW: abusive parents (mostly verbal abusive, no physical abuse) please don’t read before and after the ‘*’ mark if this is triggering to you. thank you :)

NOTE: this is set in 7th grade, they are all 12 and 13

y/n pov:

my whole life, i’ve been quiet. every school i went to, i was known as “the quiet kid.” growing up, i never had many friends. i mean, how could you even make friends without talking to them. and even if i made a friend, it wouldn’t last long cause of how much i move. my parents work in...a strange business. drug dealers. they’re always scared of getting caught, so we move once every 4-6 months. i hate my life. i hate my parents. i hate not being able to speak up about anything. i never get to have a say in anything that happens in my life. for example, today my parents decided to move again. since we have quite a bit of extra money to use, i asked to move to hawaii, or a nice place like that. they laughed and then handed me a paper with the moving information. 467 cliff drive, south park, CO, USA ‘you have to be fucking kidding me.’ i mumbled. “what’s wrong with south park?” my dad said. “it’s not a very known town, so we would be safe there. we could probably stay there for at least a year and a half.” “now you could finally make friends!” my mom said smiling. i rolled my eyes.

*

“you know what? if you’re gonna be a bitch about it, just go to your room and start packing. i don’t wanna hear anymore shit from you. got it?” my dad said, pulling me by my hair.

i wanted to say something so bad. but i was scared. i turned around and started walking upstairs.

*

1 week later

we were finally here. south park wasn’t as bad as i thought it was gonna be.

i haven’t left my house since we got here. all

the kids in my neighborhood are always outside, i cant risk them seeing me. i don’t want to meet them. i’m too scared to talk. they might think i’m weird. i just can’t risk anything. plus, school starts tomorrow. i don’t want anything to be anymore awkward than it is for me on the first day.

cartman pov:

i woke up early like normal. i got dressed, like normal. i talked to my stupid bitch mom, like normal. i walked to the bus stop, like normal.

“god why is everything so fucking boring all of a sudden?? has it always been like this??” i said while standing next to kyle and kenny.

kyle glanced at cartman. “yes, it’s always been like this fatass. i don’t see a problem with it though. it’s nice to have a routine-“

“SHUT THE FUCK UP KYLE. JESUS CHRIST YOURE MAKING IT WORSE.” cartman yelled at kyle.

“you know what? i’m leaving. there’s better and less stupid things to do than school.”

i started walking away from the bus stop. stupid fucking kyle always ruining my day.

i started walking to token’s house.

on the way there, i saw a girl walking down the street. she had y/h/c hair that went down to her elbows (sorry if your hair isn’t that length LMAO). it caught my attention. she was wearing baggy jeans, an oversized tye-dye t-shirt, and a pink un-zipped jacket on top. she looked so pretty and bothered while she walked.

“woah.” i said out loud.

“dude can u move? i need to get to school.” token said standing behind me.

“cant you see i’m busy token? just walk around me.”

“i would if you weren’t so fat!”

y/n pov:

shit! i think those two boys saw me. i need to get to class fast before they say anything to me!

after what felt like hours, i finally got to my class room. i walked up to the teacher and she assigned me to a desk. “go sit next to stan, he’ll tell you about the school.” i nodded my head.

“oh hi you must be the new girl.” stan said, holding his hand out for me to shake. i blushed and didn’t put my hand out. he looked confused. “okay then... meet me after 5th period and i’ll show you around.” he said sitting back down.

cartman pov:

time skip, lunch time

i sat down at my usual table with kenny, kyle, stan, butters, craig, jimmy, and scott malkinson.

“holy shit guys, did you see the new girl?” i said excitedly.

“oh yeah i did. i think her name is y/n? i’m not sure. she’s pretty hot tho.” kyle said taking a bite of his sandwich.

“fuck off kyle, she’s mine!” i yelled.

“woah calm down fatass. she’s not yours. she doesn’t even know who you are.” kyle replied.

“and i’m about to change that...” i said grinning.

y/n pov:

i sat down outside, alone. it’s only the first day, and i already made it weird. why couldn’t i just shake his hand? he’s probably telling everyone i’m an awkward, germaphobe who doesn’t talk.

i sighed and put my face in my arms.

“uh hi. your the new girl right?” a boy said looking down at me, his hands behind his back.

something about him made me feel..safe.

“um yeah... i’m y/n...” i said quietly.

“y/n... i like that name, it’s pretty. i’m eric, but most people call me cartman.” the boy said, sitting down next to me.

“well nice to meet you eric.” i didn’t know what else to say. i wanted to keep talking to him but i had nothing else to say.

“um... are you friends with stan?” i said, hoping we could continue talking.

cartman pov:

goddammit. she likes stan. great.

“oh yeah we’re friends. he uh has a girlfriend though in case you were wondering. i’m sorry.” i said.

WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME?! WHY AM I BEING TO NICE TO HER?! WHY AM I BLUSHING AND SMILING?? AND WHY DO I CARE SO MUCH THAT SHE LIKES STAN??

i didn’t realize what had happened to me until it was too late. i had a crush. this isn’t gonna end well. i swore i would never like anyone again after the whole heidi thing happened. i should just leave and call her a bitch and ignore my feelings. yeah! that’s a great idea!

i stood up.

“well, i have to get ready for class. it was really nice spending lunch with you. maybe we can hang out after school on friday?” i said.

“yea sure! i’d love to.” she said smiling.

GODDAMMIT WHAT THE FUCK DID I JUST SAY?!

to be continued...

[lyricalimerence]

Detention - JJ Maybank

word count: 933

summary: jus a chaotic jj in detention yktv

warnings: none tbh i think i might've sworn once

a/n: i saw a post by @maybanktho asking for people to write these concept she's had and i hope i did it some sort of justice

*gif made by @goeatsomelife *

The clock hung above the door ominously ticked forward, juxtaposing the beat of the song coursing through your earbuds that you weren’t supposed to be using. Your hair hung over your ears, and you leaned against your propped up hand to disguise the contraband technology. The seat beside you was empty, as it usually was for the first few minutes of Friday detention. It wasn’t like you had made a schedule of getting in trouble just to see the show the supposed occupant of the empty seat would put on, but you couldn’t deny it aided your passion to wreak slight havoc on the staff of Kildare County High School.

Twenty minutes into detention, almost as if he had the entire act rehearsed, JJ Maybank strutted into the classroom, perking up the slouching heads of the teenagers and the put out teacher. His eyes quickly flickered to yours, trying to gauge your reaction. It was somewhat of a game to him, trying to one-up his previous detention entrance and make it even more entertaining for you.

You raised your eyebrows, almost challenging him to do his worst. He pushed down on the peak of his baseball cap to readjust it, placing it back onto his blond hair backwards, and held up a paper bag you hadn’t noticed yet. It had a purple, curved “M” inked into the side, and oily splotches decorating the brown bag.

“Maybank,” the teacher overseeing detention grumbled as JJ walked towards you, swinging his backpack onto the floor next to the empty seat beside you. “you’re late.”

JJ stepped over the metal bar connecting the chair to the desktop. As he lowered himself into the chair he opened up the paper bag. “It appears that I am, Michael.”

A laugh rose in your chest, but refusing to allow the teacher to know you were egging on the blond, you kept your mouth shut, the air blew through your nose. Calling your teacher by his first name was one way to get on his nerves, but as JJ didn’t pay strategic attention, setting up his carton of french fries and peeling open the container of ranch dressing for his chicken nuggets, you could see the steam coming out of his ears.

“Mike, do ya want one?” JJ held up a fry, his grin omnipresent on his face, imprinting two dimples at the corners of his upturned lips. He was so full of energy, so full of life. It made you immensely happy that you were friends with JJ Maybank. You two weren't the closest, but he was so vibrant and bursting with color, something you never really understood.

Mr. Walters, or ‘Mike’ as JJ calls him, pinched the bridge of his nose as he shook his head, turning down the offer. Seldom giving up his act, a look of pained sadness crossed JJ’s face, his hand covering his heart for a moment. Shrugging off his faux hurt, he tossed the french fry to you, although having dipped your chin to message Kiara on Snapchat, it hit you in the side of the head and dropped onto the plastic edge of your chair.

“Oops?” the blond teenager next to you questioned, as you slowly turned to look at him. He looked at you worriedly, not noticing you eyeing the open carton of chicken nuggets on his desk. Using your masterful quick reflexes, you stole on and bit into it before he could smack your hand.

“So,” you whispered, not wanting to get caught by Mike, “what’d you do to get in?” Your eyes glittered under the fluorescent light tiles of the ceiling, something about the sparkle that filled your eyes captivated him for a moment. You were so positive and strong willed, he admired you for it.

“Some kid made a comment about JB’s dad being gone ‘n all,” he took a pause to stuff a french fry in his mouth. Your mouth formed an ‘o’ shape in realization. “so I took care of it. You?”

A half-pained expression overtook your features, knowing full well it was rather pathetic, but it was an issue that needed to be discussed. You pulled out the pink detention slip from your back pocket, uncrumpling it and putting it on his desk. His eyes scanned the paper, reading your Econ teacher’s illegible handwriting. His dimpled smile returned full force, biting his lips to keep his raucous laughter in, although his laugh sounded melodious to you. “You called corporate capitalism 'some idealistic republican bullshit that puts material wealth above the pricelessness of human life’ and, oh, ‘stan Harry Styles to magically grow your hair back’?”

“Okay, but, it so is! Corporate capitalism is toxicity for drama deprived fifty year-olds.” You defended yourself, knowing that you really said that Harry comment to ensure your placement in detention. “And, have you seen Mr. Anders? He needs some serious prayers answered to grow back that bald spot.”

“Maybank! Y/L/N! This is detention, be quiet!” Mike yelled across the classroom, standing up from his swivel chair to glare at you and JJ’s hunched over bodies, leaning over to reread over your detention slip in the aisle.

You snatched the pink paper back and crumbled it in your anxious hands. For a moment, JJ admires how the cheap rings from the outlet mall glistened around your fingers. For a moment, you felt JJ’s lingering, mischievous gaze on you. Until he leaned back over the aisle to whisper, “Do you think if Mike used green face paint, he could cosplay as that one Mike Wazowski meme with the two eyes?”

tags - click here to be added to my taglist

@insanitysparkles @anonymous0writer @prejudic3 @ilovejjmaybank @apoguecalledjj @outerbanksbro @xxxxxxxxxxxxxooooooooooooo @calumbroutledge @rudys-pankow @bxllasanosa @write-from-the-heart @thelocalpogue @fandomsinapile @starkeymarkey @jayjaymaebank @lovingxjj @beatement-l @drew-starkey @butgilinsky (i saw u asked to be tagged in the detention one if thats okay)