#i love her i need to go read slushys essay again

[prommytheus]

dahlia hawthorne miss dahlia hawthorne.... + 66 or 17 ... pick ur poison >:0]

decided on 66, so as to not do a second sir chloe song lol

redrew her as the album cover, since it had always reminded me of her aesthetic anyway

[gravelyhumerus]

Criminal Minds College AU - Chapter Seventeen

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Title: “I may just take your breath away”

Relationship: Jemily

Summary:

Exams, pizza, board games... what more could a girl ask for?

Slow-burn Jemily college AU where they live across the hall and despite all odds, the universe pushes them together. AKA they’re silly gay babies who pine after each other for months.

Read it on AO3

Tumblr:  One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, (bonus scene), Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty

 “That was a lot of chess,” Emily complained, nearly chugging her latte as she and Spencer left the coffee shop. 

She pulled her beanie onto her head and braced herself for the snow as the taller boy held the door open for her. Emily almost slipped on the slushy tile floor on her way out but managed to keep her balance. 

“Fifteen of the multiple-choice questions to be precise,” Spencer replied. The salted sidewalk crunched under their feet as they made their way across campus. 

“I’m so glad it’s finally over,” she admitted. “I think I’ve had enough philosophy to last me a lifetime.” 

“I’m enrolled in ‘Minds and Machines’ next semester,” he said. “I think I might try and get a double minor this time around.”

“What’s the goal? Three PhDs by the time you’re 24?” Emily quipped. 

He was well on his way, having completed his engineering degree before she managed to graduate high school. He was 17, only two years younger than her, but somehow seemed like a kid. A kid with more education crammed into his brain than she could ever master in her life.

“Something like that,” he replied with a smile. His hair was getting long and he had tied it back during the exam. With last names starting with P and R, they were seated near each other in the large exam hall, and she glanced over at him as he fussed with his hair. 

They stopped at the red light, watching as the cars and busses wooshed past them, sending the slush flying into the snowbanks. It had been a fairly sunny day, but bitterly cold. Now, the sun was setting and the campus was bathed in a warm golden glow. The snow had fallen the night before, leaving fluffy white snow covering their campus. 

Emily had spent most of the day holed up in the library with Spencer, with him quizzing her on fallacies and philosophers. With his eidetic memory, he only really needed to read the material once. Earlier in the semester, she did feel useful when it came to editing each other’s essays. He always got bogged down with detail, word vomiting everything he knew, and she helped him with his structure and argumentation. 

More studying awaited her back in her room. She rubbed at the back of her neck as she thought about the upcoming evening spent hunched over her desk studying criminal justice, a subject that left her questioning her degree half the time as she was forced to learn about the muddled ethics of justice. 

That week, she had survived on minimal sleep, eating mostly bagels and coffee to sustain her. Her body was protesting with each step, and she had suffered from a constant tension headache for as long as she remembered. At least her college had that golden retriever walk around at the library yesterday, she thought to herself, sarcastically. Animal therapy definitely relieved all her stress. As if petting a dog for five minutes would fix the anxiety of finals season. 

Two more exams, she reminded herself. You’ll make it. 

Despite this mantra, Emily was conflicted. While finals were killing her, the end of the semester also meant winter break. Emily would be forced to go “home” for the holidays. For most college students, that meant going back to their respective towns and being surrounded by their loved ones. Emily, on the other hand, didn’t have anywhere she called home. Last winter break, her mom had at least been in DC, and Emily was able to catch up with some of her international school friends who were in the city. This time, her mom was stationed in London, and Emily knew she’d be roped back into her old life. She didn’t know anyone there and knew most of her break would be spent alone. 

The last place she had called home was Rome, and now that was tarnished by her complicated past with that city. 

Emily was good at being alone. Being an only child of a workaholic single mom meant she learned to keep her own company. She read a lot. She got good at running away, escaping her nannies, and skirting security in order to roam free. She’d be fine. 

The problem was that Emily had gotten used to this. She rarely spent a moment alone these days. Whether it was walking to class with Spencer, or Hotch, or Derek, getting lunch with the team, surprise coffee dates with Penelope and spending almost every evening with her girlfriend, she hadn’t been left alone in ages. She didn’t miss it. 

Their residence building had a warm yellow light shining out of the windows and a soft red brick facade. In the summer, ivy grew up the south facing side but in the winter, the ledges were covered in snow and the stone steps were slippery. She trudged forward, excited for the warm embrace of the dorm. 

Spencer had other plans. He reached into the garish yellow plastic newspaper box that was stationed next to their doorway and retrieved this week’s newspaper. 

“Come on Reid,” Emily said. “Just subscribe to the newsletter or something like the rest of us.”

He held up the cover to her in surprise. Usually it reported the news of a recent sports victory, or a change of policy announced by the administrators, or even a fun event held on campus. Sometimes there was even a dramatic protest or an important speaker coming to campus. But this week, the headline surprised her. In large font printed across the page read: “Multiple student politicians fired amid financial scandal.” 

“That sounds bad,” Emily said. It did seem way more dramatic on newsprint than on a website, so maybe Spencer was onto something with his affinity for the printed word. 

Grabbing a copy for herself, she then walked inside to escape the cold. Warm air greeted them as they entered their residence hall, and both students kicked the snow off their boots before trudging up the stairs. They read as they walked, but the route to their rooms was already muscle memory, so neither worried about stumbling on their way. 

Normally, Emily wouldn’t willingly touch this sort of student politics with a ten foot pole. Sure, she was involved with the Criminology council, but there was a difference between the kind of person interested in petitioning for better accessibility to faculty events or running a bake sale, and the kind of students to embezzle thousands of student dollars like what the current student government executive seemed to be accused of doing. 

She quickly ran her eyes down the page, the contents jogging a memory from Halloween, of Hotch and JJ discussing the early stirrings of said scandal. 

“You know,” Spencer said, “I’m surprised they got a lot of this information, it’s notoriously difficult to file FOIAs for student governments, as they’re technically private corporations. So the fact that they got these files means that this is a much bigger scandal than one might assume.”

Corruption, bribery, embezzlement, nepotism. All words that jogged memories of hiding in the corner of political fundraisers, overhearing the worst of politics from too-drunk elites sipping on their wine and munching on charcuterie. 

“I hate politics,” Emily said, stuffing her copy of the paper into her bag. 

“I find it interesting. It’s basically a microcosm of our current political climate. In fact, I have subscribed to the print edition of fifteen student papers in the region,” Spencer said, “I like to keep informed on the coverage of student issues, and compare them to our own.”

“Why?!” Emily said with a laugh. “You know you can just look them up online.”

Spencer gave her a withering look, and she should have known better than asking about his aversion to tech. He loathed having to use his computer, as the LCD screens apparently gave him a headache. Penelope even gave him a pair of blue light glasses to attempt to alleviate the issue.

Then, he began to speak, at length, about the dying printed news industry and why print copies were better for understanding than screens et cetera. She made sure to nod and hum at appropriate points, but her mind kept wandering. 

She wondered if her girlfriend was in her room. Emily missed her any time they were apart and she yearned to hold her in her arms once again. But she shouldn’t. She needed to work. She had too much to do. Her grades had slipped, slightly, this semester. Everyone warned her about how college would be harder than high school, but no one ever warned her how much the expectations were raised in second year. 

Two more exams. She clutched her coffee tighter. She’d rather do anything else besides study at this point. Her body was exhausted, her mind frazzled. She wondered if she could even manage to get through a chapter of revision before conking out on her desk. 

As she said goodbye to Spencer and struggled with her keys that were tangled up in their corresponding university-branded lanyard, JJ’s door opened.  

“Hey girlfriend,” JJ greeted her, sounding way too much like a straight girl greeting her platonic friend for Emily’s taste. She gave her a pass because it sounded cute in her voice. 

“JJ!” Emily said, somehow surprised to see her despite the fact that she lived right across the hall. Her girlfriend was dressed in sweatpants and an oversized sweater, with her straight hair tucked behind her ears and her face bare of make up. Her face was lit up with a smile, and Emily rushed towards her, planting a soft kiss on her lips.

“Hi JJ,” Spencer said as Emily and JJ kissed. 

When they pulled apart, JJ gave Spencer a smile as a greeting and asked them how their exam went. 

Spencer babbled about their Logic exams for a minute or two, as Emily basked in JJ’s presence. She grabbed onto her hand and found that it was so much hotter than her own and wasn’t sure if she held on tight because she was cold, or if she had missed her girlfriend. 

“I’m just glad it’s over,” Emily said. “I never want to hear about fallacies again.”

Spencer seemed to want to say something, but fell silent at Emily’s tired expression. 

“Wanna come in for a bit?” JJ whispered in Emily’s ear. Apparently she said so a touch too loud because Spencer replied instead. 

“Sure!” he said, and then walked into JJ and Penelope’s room. 

“I should really study,” Emily tried to argue, but a single glance into JJ’s deep, blue eyes had Emily melting. 

JJ’s room was much messier than Emily had last seen it. Both desks showed clear markers of the ongoing exams, with papers and books piled high. In addition to this was an assortment of pillows strewn all over the floor.

“You guys are back early!” JJ said, after checking her watch, “I thought it was a two hour exam?”

“I finished in an hour,” Spencer said, “and Emily only needed an extra half hour on top of my time.”

Damn straight, Emily thought, feeling somewhat competitive with the boy-genius despite herself. 

She really should study, but the prospect of seeing her girlfriend outweighed the desire to sit hunched over a textbook for another evening. 

Emily and Spencer kicked off their boots, placing them neatly on the mat by the door before peeling their jackets off and hanging them on the back of her door. Emily wasn’t sure if she liked winter. Whenever her mother was stationed in the Middle East she yearned for snow, but now that she was experiencing the Nor’easter for the first time, the desert sounded like a good time. 

“Well there goes my plan,” JJ said, blowing her hair out of her face with a puff of air.

Spencer flopped onto Penelope’s neatly-made bed, collapsing into the assortment of pink pillows while carefully keeping his take-away cup upright. Emily sat down next to JJ on her bed.

“Your plan?” Emily asked. 

“Yeah,” JJ said, sounding a bit shy. “I had this whole plan to make up a blanket fort here for you, and I would surprise you with it when you walked in.’”

JJ gestured with her hands at the mess. Blankets and pillows were strewn about, and a bundle of fairy lights were laying in the middle of the floor. 

“Then you came back early,” JJ concluded. “Spence, I thought you’d keep her occupied longer!”

“You didn’t tell me that,” he replied. Spencer looked quizzically at her, shrugged, then took another sip of his coffee.

“I just wanted us to have a cute date night,” JJ admitted. “I know you’re so stressed, and you deserve a break.” 

Emily grabbed her girlfriend’s moving hands and held them in her own. She felt overwhelmed. JJ was so… thoughtful. Caring. Attentive. So many things that were absolutely foreign to Emily. No one had ever tried to impress her like this. 

“It’s okay,” Emily said. “We don’t need anything special to have a cute date night. You’re cute enough.”

JJ gave Emily a goofy smile in response. 

“Okay,” JJ said. “If you say so.”

“You’re building a blanket fort?” Spencer asked. “I actually have some experience with blanket fort architecture.”

“You do?” JJ asked, raising her eyebrows skeptically.

“Of course,” he replied, seeming almost offended that she questioned him. “It sparked my interest in engineering. I wanted to overcome the problem of chair-tippage when it came to building the structure, so I devised a system of counter-weights that I found increased the structural integrity by 53%. My mom always told me that I could be an architect, but I thought the sciences better suited my intellect.”

“Oh?” Emily asked, genuinely interested. How would someone measure the structural integrity of a blanket fort? 

“Actually, I have some blueprints. Let me grab them,” he said, standing up and making a move for the door. 

“Of course you have blueprints,” JJ laughed. 

“I should probably go feed Gideon, anyway. I’ll be right back!” Spencer  said. Before closing the door behind him.

“Gideon?” Emily asked. 

“His fish,” JJ said, “the one he won at the fair. It’s named after his professor, I think.”

She shrugged. The kid was weird, they tended to just accept that. 

“I guess Spencer’s joining us on date night,” JJ said. “Sorry. I know you’re stressed and probably want to be studying, but I thought we’d order pizza and just have one night off. Just us. And Spencer.”

JJ planted a firm kiss on Emily’s lips, leaving her dazed and blushing. 

“Relaxing sounds perfect,” Emily said, pulling her girlfriend closer to her. “I can’t believe it’s already exams. This semester has flown by. Soon it’ll be winter break, and I won’t get to see you.”

“I can’t imagine you not being right across the hall,” JJ said. “Who will give me kisses when I want them?”

JJ kissed Emily, sucking on Emily’s bottom lip slightly before pulling apart to look at her. 

“I know you’re joking, but I hope you’re not kissing anybody else, no matter the circumstances.”

With that established, Emily pounced on her girlfriend, pushing her onto her bed and kissing her deeply. She intertwined her fingers in the blonde locks that were splayed out in a golden halo and breathed in deep, taking in the warm scent of the lilac candle that burnt on her night side table. 

All her worries melted away at JJ’s touch. Emily’s brain was filled with the feeling of JJ’s lips on hers, with her lithe form beneath her. Exams, student politics and thoughts of home were wiped away, and her stress faded into background noise. 

JJ’s pliant form writhed under Emily’s, her hands sneaking below Emily’s sweater and dancing over her back. They deepened the kiss until they were making out like teenagers in JJ’s dorm with the door still open a crack. 

This was how Spencer, accompanied by Derek, found them when they pushed open the door with blanket fort blueprints and bags of potato chips in hand. 

Spencer made a surprised noise, which made Emily aware of his return. She jumped up and pulled apart from JJ with a dark red blush gracing her cheeks. 

“Woah there ladies,” Derek said with a laugh. “Keep it in your pants!”

“Guys! I was gone for five minutes!” Spencer whined. 

Emily stood up awkwardly, stuffing her hands in her pockets as she watched JJ sit up and pat her hair down in a huff.

“Sorry,” Emily grumbled, not really meaning it. She would never be sorry for kissing JJ, but she was sorry for the awkwardness

“Pretty boy dragged me down the hall,” Derek said in explanation. He had Spencer’s rolled-up fort plans in his hand, and lightly smacked Emily’s head with it, making a comedic thwap noise as it made contact. “Hope you weren’t in the middle of something?”

“Only JJ’s legs,” Emily quipped to everyone’s surprise, even her own. JJ hit her jokingly and blushed. 

“Hey!” Derek laughed, “Let’s keep this PG!”

“You called?” The voice of Penelope Garcia—PG if you will—rang out from the hallway, and within seconds JJ’s room was filled with just about all their friends standing around in a slightly awkward silence: JJ, Emily, Spencer and Derek were joined by Penelope with Hotch in tow. 

The latter two of them had grown closer recently and walked into the room with white shopping bags with the walrus logo printed on the side, looking like they had just returned from out in the cold. Penelope and Hotch going thrifting together, that’s new! Emily thought to herself and decided to file the observation for later. The image of Hotch watching Penelope’s customary fashion show was enough to make her laugh under her breath. 

“We’re building a blanket fort,” Spencer announced, changing the subject to the task at hand. “Are you guys helping?”

“Oh you know I will, boy genius,” Penelope said with an excited smile. 

Emily looked over to her girlfriend. So much for date night.

———

Without much questioning about why they were building a blanket fort, the team got to work. In college, sometimes things just happened. Impromptu blanket forts were par the course. In their defense, any excuse to not spend the evening burying their heads in textbooks was a welcome reprieve. 

It started with just a few blankets draped in the space between JJ and Penelope’s beds, but with Spencer’s instruction, a verifiable architectural marvel began to take shape. 

While Emily knew that Penelope would be all gung ho for this sort of project, it was certainly amusing to see Hotch in his khakis and dress shirt crawling around on the floor like a child with the rest of them, tying off blankets and very seriously maneuvering the different parts of the structure. 

Sheets were draped here and there, tied together to form ceilings and walls. Two chairs stolen from the common room, loaded with backpacks on the seat for support acted as the entrance to the fort. 

While it was crawling space only, Emily had to note that there was a sense of awe when you emerged into the open space of the main fort-area. It was surprisingly big, fitting all six of them with ease. The key to the whole design was a curtain rod Hotch had stolen from the boys shower that lifted the roof up. 

The design was strangely reminiscent of Baroque architecture, which she was sure was due to Spencer’s designs. This was a fact that Emily kept to herself. She always tried to rein in the ‘I lived abroad’ conversation points so her childhood could remain under minimal scrutiny.

Emily’s exhaustion transformed into excitement as she relished the time hanging out with her friends. Music played from Penelope’s computer as they worked, they began to work as a cohesive group, each member doing their share. It was nice to do something besides sit at her desk and obsess over memorizing facts and statistics, or figuring out the proper argumentation for an essay on a subject. Making sure that a bunch of blankets didn’t crash onto them was treated with the utmost seriousness, and the whole group was focused with intense concentration at their own tasks. 

Spencer did, in fact, have literal sketches of blanket forts in his notebooks, but the details of which were fairly incomprehensible to her. While she believed that he did the math, his chicken scratch was just about indecipherable, and his drawing was little more than a few shapes on a page. Despite this, it was laid out on the centre of the dorm-room floor for them to reference. 

At one point, as Emily stood on JJ’s wheely chair, she feared that the fort had all come crashing down as she lost her balance and grabbed at the blankets to stop her fall before tumbling onto Derek with a yelp. 

“Sorry,” she muttered as she climbed back onto her feet and fought off the blanket that had wrapped her in a shroud. 

She flinched as she realized she had ruined it all, a pit forming in her stomach. She looked at her friends in concern, but instead of yelling at her for her mistake, or shunning her for ruining it for the rest of them, they smiled at her and helped her up.

“It’s okay!” Spencer said cheerfully. “I know exactly how to reinforce that wall.”

“You okay, Emily?” Hotch asked, righting the wheely chair as JJ fretted over her. 

“I’m good,” she answered, still confused as to why they weren’t mad at her. 

Instead of making a big deal over the set back, they went back to work. Soon, the fort filled out and it returned to its former glory. Arguably, better than it was because they had draped fairy lights throughout the inside, making the space glow with a warm orange light. 

Inside was filled with pillows and big enough for all of them to sit comfortably so it was a comfy lounge space. It was cozy and warm, the antithesis of the bitterly cold night air outside. 

“You know what?” Hotch said. “This is a damned good fort, Reid.” 

The group muttered in consensus. They all had piled into the space, and as the excitement wore off, Emily was wondering what happened next. What does one do in a blanket fort? She had vague memories of building one in her room, but she had just sat inside and read a book. 

“I hear the RA’s storage room has a ton of board games,” Penelope said. “They pull them out for socials and stuff.”

“That’s all well and good, but we’re not asking Strauss to let us in,” Derek argued. “I still think she thinks we were responsible for that fire alarm last week. She’s been giving me the evil eye ever since.”

“Who said we had to tell her?” Emily said. “We could just… borrow… them…”

“I mean, they are for us to use, anyway.” JJ’s eyes had a mischievous look in them as she looked at Emily.

“That is true,” Hotch said, the scowl that was usually a fixture on his face turning to a smirk. 

“That’s stealing, guys,” Spencer warned, as if they didn’t already know that. 

“We’ll give them back,” Emily said with a shrug. “Come on!”

Penelope led the way to a dark wooden door on the main floor, it was labelled simply “Storage,” but the computer science student assured them that it was where the RA’s stored all of their supplies.

“It’s locked,” Penelope huffed.

“Do you have a bobby pin?” Emily asked her in a hushed voice. She wouldn’t have gotten this far if she hadn’t learned how to pick simple door locks. She had trouble with deadbolts but a simple latch she could probably do within a couple of minutes.

The blonde pulled a hot pink bobby pin out of her perfectly curled hair. Emily snapped it into two, bending one end into a longer L-shape. Sticking that into the bottom of the lock and holding it in place, she used the other side to feel for the pins that held the lock in place. 

Emily could feel all eyes on her as she confidently knelt in front of the doorknob, the group keeping watch for her as she worked. No one questioned how or why Emily knew how to do this. She had her reasons. 

This definitely broke all sorts of residence rules and if they got caught, they knew they’d get into shit, but no one seemed to care that much. They just wouldn’t get caught. 

After a couple minutes, Emily’s hands began to sweat. What if she couldn’t do this anymore? She tried to centre herself. She had made it through infinitely more stressful situations in the past. It was the eyes of her friends on her that made her nervous. She was finally accepted by a group, and she desperately didn’t want to let them down. 

Then, it clicked, and she was able to turn the brass knob easily. Emily made a noise of excitement, got to her feet and yanked the door open. 

Instead of an empty storage closet, on the other side of the door was Erin Strauss, their RA, in a passionate embrace with David Rossi. Her shirt was unbuttoned and he was in the middle of sucking on her neck. 

“Dave?!” Hotch called out, startling the couple. 

Both groups stood stock-still, neither knowing what to say. While Emily had hid the bobby pins, she wasn’t sure who was in more trouble, them for breaking into the room or their RA for using the space for unofficial purposes. 

The room was small and cramped, with a pile of poster board mostly obscuring the one small window that lit the space. Strauss had been hoisted onto the desk, her legs straddling the other student. Emily could see a shelf filled with the board games stacked on the left side of the room, but they seemed unimportant at the moment. While Emily had known about their illicit love affair, she had never expected to see it in action. 

“Hey guys,” Rossi said after a moment, his unwavering confidence carrying on to this moment as he pulled apart from Strauss, who was furiously buttoning up her shirt and trying to sort herself out. 

“What are you all doing in here?” she demanded, standing up and putting her hands on her hips. “This room’s meant for RA’s only.”

“Well,” Emily said, startled by her own audacity, “Dave isn’t an RA so…”

“We just came for some board games,” JJ said in her most diplomatic voice, despite clearly wanting to laugh at the situation, “then we’ll be off.”

“Take them and go,” the RA said in a strangled voice, her face beet-red and as she avoided eye contact like it was the plague. 

Clearly not as embarrassed as Strauss, Rossi simply smirked, collected a few board games into his arms off of the shelf, then deposited them into Emily’s arms. 

Realizing that given the circumstances, they couldn’t be picky with their choices, the stunned group thanked him then scurried away, back upstairs with their loot. The silence remained until they made it back to their floor, where they all burst into laughter.

“What on earth was that?!” Derek exclaimed. 

“Rossi and Strauss,” Spencer muttered. 

Emily and JJ made eye contact, remembering all those weeks ago when they had caught their friend emerging from the RA’s room down the hall in the middle of the night. They had known that Rossi and Strauss had hooked up that night, but had no idea that it was a whole relationship.

“I see it,” Hotch commented. “I mean, I don’t know your RA too well, but Rossi likes a woman with authority.”

Derek and Emily fake-gagged in an exaggerated manner at the comment. 

“I think I need to bleach my eyeballs after that display,” Emily muttered. 

“Ooo-kay!” JJ said, pointedly changing the subject. “It seems like we have most of the pieces to Clue… I think we could manage a game of that. We also have Scrabble, Yahtzee and Snakes and Ladders. Uh… also a pack of cards.”

“At least it’s not chess,” Emily said, thinking about her seemingly endless exam that afternoon. 

“Agreed,” Spencer said. 

“We do not have chess, no,” JJ said with a quizzical laugh. 

———

After ordering a couple of pizzas to the dorm, they all settled in to play a board game. After a few minutes of debate, they decided to play Clue (or Cluedo as Emily continuously referred to it as). The board was laid out: it was vintage, with a teal and yellow colour scheme and some scuffs and rips showing its age. In their blanket fort, they were seated in a circle, all secretly looking at their Clue cards.

“Can I be Professor Plum?” Spencer asked before they had even gotten the pieces out of the box. 

“Of course pretty boy,” Derek said, “I’ll take Mr. Green.”

“My sculpted god of thunder looks excellent in green,” Penelope flirted, choosing the white piece for herself. 

“Did you know that in the original version of Clue, Mr Green was a Reverend, but they changed his name for American audience because they believed that the American public would object to a parson as a murder suspect?”

“Good thing you’re on our trivia team, Reid,” Hotch replied.  

Emily was Miss Scarlet, of course, and was seated right next to JJ, who had chosen to portray Mrs. Peacock. Hotch claimed the remaining piece: Colonel Mustard.

Emily loved board games. Her nanny in France, who was a kindly elderly woman that Emily only knew as “Madame,” would play with her each Sunday after church. She has hazy memories from that time, but the warm glow of sunlight streaming into their Parisian apartment as she learned how to play Cluedo. Emily would always try to cheat, but knew better than to try to do so with her immensely observant girlfriend seated to her left, JJ’s hand resting casually on Emily’s thigh.

She looked at her cards and grinned. She had been dealt her own character, she noted, as Miss Scarlet’s name was printed in bold on the top of her first card. It felt weirdly validating to know that she herself was innocent. Also in her hands were the cards for the candlestick and pistol, as well as the observatory. She marked these off of her card and tried to gauge her opponents' reactions. 

JJ was checking her phone with her cards face down, tracking the pizza’s arrival. Spencer was sprawled back, his long legs taking up way more room than was necessary, jotting down notes on some scrap paper. Presumably some statistics and probability for the possibilities of the cards that were sealed in the envelope in the centre of the board. Penelope smiled over at Derek and flirtatiously tried to sneak a peek at his hand. 

After the initial rounds being dedicated to moving around the board, Emily finally made it into her first room: the lounge. There, she decided on her first suggestion.

“I suggest,” Emily said, in her most dramatic, formal voice, which was particularly suited to the role of Miss Scarlet, “that Mrs. Peacock committed this heinous crime in the Lounge with-” she hurriedly grabbed the candlestick, “the candlestick!”

She knew that it wasn’t the correct weapon, but using it would narrow it down to someone ruling out either JJ’s character or the lounge as the scene of the crime. 

“Moi?!” JJ said, sounding almost offended at the accusation. “Your own girlfriend?!”

Emily grinned evilly at her, but internally she felt giddy. It was the first time she heard JJ use that word in front of their friends. JJ moved her piece into the Lounge. The others chuckled lightly at their antics.

“You have no alibi for the crime, Mrs. Peacock,” Emily said, “and I am merely making a suggestion.”

JJ glared at her, but said nothing. Emily turned to Derek, who was seated at her left. 

“What do I do?” Derek asked, looking around the room, slightly confused. 

“Do you have any of those cards?” Hotch asked. 

“Yeah-” Derek said, moving to show his hand. 

“No!” Penelope stopped him. “Just show one of your cards to Emily if you can prove her suggestion was wrong.”

He made an “o” with his mouth and sneakily showed Emily the Lounge card. Emily noted that, and that it was Derek’s card. Mrs. Peacock had yet to be proven innocent, and Emily gave JJ a suspicious glance. 

She loved this game. 

As the game progressed, Emily noted a few things about her opponents. A part of Emily was profiling her friends subconsciously, reading each of their strategies like a book. 

Penelope always seemed to luck out on her dice rolls, covering a lot of terrain and gathering information like it was a cup of tea. But, she seemed to take it personally when someone accused Mrs. White of having killed Mr. Boddy and gasped every time someone made that suggestion. 

Hotch seemed to take the game very seriously, and was at it like he was an actual police officer solving crime. But, it didn’t seem that he completely understood all of the rules, and definitely hadn’t played before, so he spent most of his turn grumbling as he skimmed the rule pamphlet. 

Spencer, on the other hand, had memorized the rules, common strategies and probabilities of the different outcomes, so Hotch often looked over to him nervously as the boy wrote longhand equations in the notebook that he pulled out of his bag for the very occasion. 

Derek also had never played before, and regularly made ‘accusations’ rather than ‘suggestions’ when he entered a room, frustrating Spencer to no end. But, Derek was smart and seemed to be picking it up as he went along. That was until he made the same suggestion twice in a row, both times making Hotch show him the exact same card. He asked Reid endless questions about specific rules, and more than once he made the boy double check in the rule book when Derek tried to make a rather unorthodox move. 

JJ seemed to be the only one genuinely trying to have fun. She munched on the Cheetos that she stored in the bottom drawer of her night stand, and made conversation. Her strategy seemed to be exclusively focused on playing the game like it was the 1985 feature film Clue, playing the role of Mrs. Peacock with a fake accent and treating it like an actual murder-filled dinner party.

After a solid twenty minutes of gameplay, the pizza arrived. With minimal grumbling from Hotch, who was apparently on a roll, they took a break to eat. 

“Did you see this?” Spencer said with his mouth full, lifting up the copy of the newspaper that he had grabbed earlier.

“Don’t get me started,” JJ grumbled and took a sip of her pop. 

“What happened?” Hotch asked, the conversation piquing his interest. 

Spencer explained—with the assistance of JJ who apparently knew one of the people involved through soccer—the entire scandal. Apparently, last year there had been very little interest in the leadership roles, so the President of the student government had simply waltzed into his role. He then hired all of his friends, his girlfriend, his roommate, and together they embezzled thousands of dollars of student funds. 

“I can’t believe they’re getting away with this,” JJ muttered. “Is there no oversight?”

“It’s always the same,” Emily replied. “Who’s going to oversee them? The college? They’re corrupt too.”

“This sucks,” Derek said. “Wish someone good would run for government, for once.”

Emily shook her head in frustration. It all just reminded her of her childhood. Embezzlement, corruption and nepotism all were casual topics discussed over family dinner in her home. She had higher hopes for students her own age, would they not break the cycle? Or was it just a microcosm of the outside world? 

“You should run Mr. Lawyer Man,” Penelope teased Hotch. “You could take any of these clowns.”

Hotch raised an eyebrow at her and went back to his pizza, brushing her off. Emily smiled at him. Penelope was right, he might actually do a good job if he set his mind to it. 

The people that surrounded her now were nothing like her mother’s friends—or the kids she had been forced to hang out with when she was younger—they were genuinely kind, supportive, and seemed to like Emily for Emily. When she told them she was an ambassador’s daughter, they had been more concerned with the cool places that she had been able to travel to than whatever power she had. At college, Emily finally exhaled fully, slowly relaxing more and more into herself. 

But, the topic of politics always set her on edge, especially since the semester was ending soon. Her mother had already begun to leave her voicemails about the galas, fundraisers and events that she was required to attend over Christmas break. She pushed thoughts of the future aside and focused on the warmth that surrounded her. With some music playing softly (a song that JJ liked by Vampire Weekend), the softness of blankets under her, and JJ leaning on her slightly as she ate her dinner, Emily felt at peace. She knew she could handle winter break, because she knew that these friends would be here when she came back. 

After years of leaving a school midway through the year only to show up to some new boarding school or international school each time her mom was reassigned, Emily never had a chance to put down roots. But, with each bite of pizza, Emily felt herself becoming even more firmly rooted. Not to this place, but to these people as their lives became more entwined. 

Once dinner was over, the game continued, and thoughts of politics left their minds. By then, Emily narrowed it down to the weapon (the candlestick), two rooms (the kitchen and the billiard room) and she was pretty sure that it was Colonel Mustard that had committed the crime. 

She had a decision to make: walk all the way from the study to the billiard room, or risk being wrong by making an accusation. She was pretty sure both Hotch and Reid were on the right track, as the younger boy’s scribbling in his notebook had gotten even more intense and the older boy was beginning to look around suspiciously, as if the others were trying to read his notes. 

She had pretty much ruled out Penelope, JJ and Derek as competitors, as the trio spent most of the time talking, and genuinely trying to have fun. Emily, Reid and Hotch were all way too into it, but Emily was competitive and this was her game. She wasn’t going to lose to Hotch, no way. Reid winning she could blame on his boy-genius nature, but Emily decided that Hotch was going down. 

The two boys seemed to have come to the same conclusion, all eyeing each other across the board, the tension palatable between them as their competition became heated. 

She nervously tried to move to the billiards room, deciding to play it safe. Better safe than disqualified. But, as soon as she made that decision, she regretted it as Spencer straightened up on his turn and said: “I’d like to make my accusation.”

“Write it down,” JJ prompted, as per the rules. He jotted it down in his paper. 

Then, with bated breath, they watched as he grabbed the envelope out of the centre of the board, and read the cards. His face fell when he saw one of the cards, so he must have been wrong. He placed them back into their envelope and back onto the board. 

“No dice?” Emily asked. 

He shook his head. 

“Statistically speaking that should have been right,” he grumbled. “My math was wrong.”

“Boy genius isn’t a good detective, huh?” Penelope mused. 

A few turns went by, with Derek, Penelope, and JJ moving around the board or making suggestions. 

Emily rolled the dice, making one square from a room. She sighed. She’d make a suggestion next round. 

On Hotch’s next turn, he made an accusation, which he wrote down on a pink sticky note that Penelope had handed out when the game started. He checked the envelope. 

Emily held her breath. She was sure he had it and that the game was over. She should just call it quits now. She went to bite her nails out of stress, but stopped herself, they were starting to get long and she wanted them to look nice. 

A moment passed as Hotch compared his cards. After he saw the third card in the envelope, his expression revealed that was also wrong. 

Boys, Emily thought. Always so overconfident. 

She made a suggestion instead of risking it: “Miss Scarlet—er myself I guess— in the Billiards Room with the pistol.” 

It was a gamble. If she was right, and the people who knew she had her own card and the pistol caught on, they would also know that it was the Billiard Room, because no one would be able to disprove her theory. If she was wrong, someone would have the card for that room, and she would know that the crime occured in the Kitchen. 

The second seemed to be true, as Derek showed her his card with a small illustrated image of the Billiard Room on it. She was right. She knew what it was. But, she would have to wait until her next turn. She was going to win. 

But, it was she who was overconfident, because as she was too busy preemptively celebrating her win, Derek casually made his accusation. 

“Hey I’m right!” he exclaimed, holding up the cards and his own hot pink sticky note. 

In his semi-cursive scrawl read: “Colonel Mustard, Candlestick, Kitchen.” These guesses matched the cards hidden in the envelope, and Emily’s own deduction that she planned to make on her own turn. 

“You guys really thought I hadn’t played this game before?” Derek laughed. “I’ve got two sisters, board games were everything.”

“Were you hustling us, Morgan?” Spencer demanded. 

He smirked. 

“Should’ve put money on the outcome,” Derek said with a laugh. “I’d be rich.” 

Emily threw her cards onto the table in defeat. JJ shot her an empathetic look, and Emily tried to stuff her frustration down to pat her friend on the back for the surprising win. He deserved it.

———

After the game concluded and the pizza had been completely eaten, the group parted ways, heading to bed, or for more midnight snacks or to finish up some studying, leaving JJ and Emily alone and to start? a game of Scrabble. 

The board was ancient, and quite a few letters were missing, but with music droning on JJ’s laptop, and the soft fairy lights overhead, neither girl minded too much. 

Emily looked at her letters:  O, B, S, O, T, B, W and thought hard, rearranging the wooden pieces to try and formulate a word. After a long day of academia, and investing so heavily into the game of Clue, she probably had only one or two working brain cells and both were telling her to play the word ‘boobs.’  

Her eyes flicked to her girlfriend, who looked absolutely gorgeous in the warm light. Her blonde hair almost glowed, and she had an adorable expression on her face. Emily couldn’t help but glance lower, thinking about the real world examples of her Scrabble word.  

She played the word with a cheeky grin. 

“‘Boobs,’ Emily?” JJ scolded. “Really?”

She sounded angry, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at her cheeks and Emily could tell the girl found it funny. 

“I can’t help it,” Emily said. “I haven’t thought of much else since last weekend.”

She raised and lowered her eyebrows in an exaggerated manner, making JJ laugh and kick her lightly in protest. 

JJ then played the word ‘throw,’ using the ‘o’ from ‘boobs’ to form her word, earning her thirteen points. 

“I don’t think you can throw boobs, babe,” Emily said. “They’re usually attached.”

JJ rolled her eyes. 

Emily made it her mission to find the funniest words possible, working extra hard (and missing out on some good points) in an effort to make JJ laugh. ‘Armpit,’ ‘meaty,’ ‘hoagie,’ ‘urine,’ ‘joint’ and her piece de resistance: ‘boner.’ All while JJ was playing incredibly normal, and often strategic words like ‘axis,’ ‘snow,’ ‘vain,’ ‘snag’ and ‘writings,’ hitting multiple double- and triple word scores on the way. 

“This is fun,” Emily said, sneaking a handful of JJ’s Cheetos out of the family-sized bag next to the blonde, while she was distracted by playing her turn. 

“I don’t understand how you’re winning,” JJ muttered. 

Emily shrugged, “Guess I’m just a genius.”

“Reid? Is that you?” JJ joked. “Why are you disguised as my girlfriend?” 

“Would Reid do this?” Emily said, leaning over toward her girlfriend and pressing kisses all over her face until she fell back. Then Emily straddled her, their lips meeting in a passionate embrace that left both girls panting. 

“I would hope not!” JJ exclaimed with a laugh, making a face at the thought. 

They laughed and went back to making out, with Emily careful not to disturb the game pieces. JJ sucked onto Emily’s bottom lip, making her weak in the knees and she struggled to support herself over JJ’s shorter frame at the motion. 

“We should-” Emily tried to say between kisses, “finish the game.”

JJ kept deepening the kiss, going so far as to grab onto Emily’s butt to hold her in place on top of her.

“You’re trying to distract me,” Emily chided, “because I’m winning! I see right through your plot.” 

She sat up and went back to her tiles before playing another funny word: ‘suck’ for twenty points. JJ grumbled,fiddling with her own tiles, as Emily collected a few out of the bag. 

Emily was preening as she rearranged her own tiles and didn’t notice as JJ put down her word. When she went to play her next word (‘zap’) and only then did she see what word JJ played. 

‘Love.’ 

It was there. Clear as day. Written vertically and connected to the word ‘snow,’ it was unmistakable. Emily looked at it for a long moment, trying to figure out what it could possibly mean that her girlfriend very intentionally played such a loaded word. Was it the only word that fit? Did she only mean that she loved the snow? Was she also reading into it? 

Emily looked up, making eye contact with JJ. The blonde blushed and looked away, nervously fiddling with the necklace around her neck. Emily smiled faintly at the warmth that flooded through her, but alongside that, was the sharp pang of anxiety. Was she supposed to acknowledge that? Would that make it weird? 

‘Zap’ didn’t feel appropriate when her girlfriend may or may not have confessed her love for her. 

She played it anyway, deciding that making a big deal of it would just complicate matters. Besides, did she love JJ? She didn’t know. It was all so new. She liked JJ a lot. She definitely like-liked her in the traditional sense of the world. But Emily had never been in love before. She’d loved people before, Matthew for one, and her mother in a way, and she loved Derek like a brother. But being in love was a whole ‘nother ball game. 

JJ won the game after playing ‘equinox’ for twenty two points near the end, beating any lead Emily had gained from her silly words. JJ deserved it in the end, as the blonde would sit and stare at her letters until they formed the most complex words that Emily had never even heard of. Emily’s eyes drooped and she was barely able to create three letter words by the end, while JJ was still surprising her with her vocabulary. 

Emily shook JJ’s hand to congratulate her for the win. JJ grinned and kissed her. 

Then, they looked around and realized two things: it was past one in the morning and Penelope hadn’t come back to the room yet and that all of the blankets that JJ owned were currently being used in the blanket fort. 

“Can we sleep in my bed, tonight?” Emily asked. “I’ll help you clean up in the morning.” 

JJ nodded but was in the middle of texting Penelope, wondering where on earth her roommate had wandered off to. Within a minute she got back to JJ saying: with derek! will explain tmrw!! 😘 🧚‍♀️ 😳

JJ showed Emily the message and both girls giggled. Emily saw that coming, but didn’t realize it would be a game of Clue that finally sealed the deal.

Exhausted but happy and relaxed after the game night, Emily and JJ tumbled into Emily’s bed and cuddled up together. Between JJ and Emily, the word ‘love’ was left unsaid that night, but Emily fell asleep that night feeling a new warmth in her chest.

[just-jordie-things]

Love Letter - Richie Tozier

word count: 12,440 (I got really carried away) warnings: swearing request: @oceanspray5: Hi! Can you write a hc or (even better) a fic for Richie x fem!Reader (only if you want to of course) where he is deeply in love with her. She's sweet and nice but evryone says he's bad for her cuz he's a trashmouth so he would only corrupt her. Cue Richie leaving secret notes and flowers from the quarry in her locker as an outlet to try and rid himself of his heartache/feelings, not expecting anything in return, until one day she accidently finds out and it's happy ending of course. Thank you! summary: When Ben tells Richie that the best thing to help with his feelings for (y/n) is to write her a love letter, the trashmouth never expected it to turn into a full on secret admirer thing.

___

A simple note.  That’s all he had to do, all he had to write.  He could pour out everything he was feeling into one little letter, slip it into her locker, and get it over with.

Ben said that’s how easy it was! He’d told him that as long as he was honest, and spilled his very heart out onto the paper, then his heart wouldn’t go so crazy around her anymore.  He wouldn’t feel like he was suffocating as she filled every one of his senses.

However, now that he’s looking at this letter, this heartfelt letter, and probably the most sincere thing he’s ever written, he didn’t feel all that much better.

So right away, he picked up the phone and called Ben.

“Hi, Richie-”

“Yeah hey, what the fuck is this shit?” Richie jumped right into it, before Ben could even really say hello.  “You said this would help!”

“Are you talking about the letter?” Ben asked hopefully.

Richie rolled his eyes.

“No.  I’m talking about fucking smoking crack- yes I’m talking about the letter.  You told me that once I wrote it, it would be off my chest and I wouldn’t have to think about her anymore?”

Ben was silent on the other end for a moment, and Richie tapped his foot impatiently on the floor.

“What do you mean?” He finally asked.

“What do I- Ben!” Richie screeched into the phone, “I said that I needed to stop thinking about (y/n) all the time, because I was starting to act like an idiot in front of her, remember?”

“Right, because you’re in love with her” Ben said in agreement.

“Yeah, whatever, my point is I wrote the goddamn letter and it hasn’t helped”

“Well, what do you mean it hasn’t helped?”

“I mean I’m still fucking thinking about her!” Richie yelled again.

“Can you stop yelling?  It hurts my ear,” Ben muttered.  “But you're doing something wrong, writing her a little love note isn’t supposed to get rid of your own feelings”

“But that’s what I-!”

“I don’t get why you want to stop liking her, (y/n’s) awesome,” Ben cut him off.  “What you should do is give her your letter”

Richie almost had a heart attack.  He really thought he was going to spasm and then drop dead on his bedroom floor.

“What, the, fuck?”

“Yeah,” Ben responds, and Richie can only assume that he’s shrugging his shoulders.  “After I gave Bev my poem, I felt way better! Just knowing that she know how I feel-”

“What the hell? She doesn’t even know it’s from you!” Richie shrieks.

It’s silent again.

“Sorry for yelling” Richie mumbled.

“Thanks,” Ben answers.  “But you don’t have to tell her that it’s you.  It still feels good to know that she knows someone really likes her.  Just give her it, you’ll know what I mean”

“How do I give it to her without her knowing it was from me?”

“I dunno.  Slip it in her locker?”

Richie mulls it over for a moment, thinking about how he could put a letter like this in her locker when she’s not around.  He decides that no one can be around, he doesn’t want a single person on this planet to know that he’s done this.  Besides Ben, he supposes.

“You sure it’ll help?”

“Yeah” Ben replies, but it’s unenthusiastic, and not convincing at all.

Richie thinks he might just have to take the chance anyways, because if he holds onto all these feelings any longer, he might just explode, and that doesn’t seem like a good idea. ___

That’s how Richie finds himself sneaking into the hall the next day at school.  He’d asked to go to the bathroom in the middle of class, when he knew the halls would be empty, and it would be the prime time to put his letter in (y/n’s) locker.

His plan worked.

There was no one around, and he slipped the folded paper in between the vents of her locker.

Luckily, he met her at her locker every day after school, so he knew exactly which one was hers.  And as soon as the paper disappeared and fluttered into the locker, he felt the weight lift off his shoulders.

Ben was right.  This was exactly what I needed.  

He lingered there at her locker for a minute, feeling more relaxed than ever.  And (y/n) hadn’t even read it yet.  This was going to be perfect.

Maybe she’d wonder who it was for a couple days, maybe even for a week.  But eventually she’ll get over it, and Richie hoped he could get over his feelings for her too.

Then they could go back to being friends, and he wouldn’t feel so awkward all the time.  Perfect. ___

“Do you know anything about this?”

Beverly turned to (y/n), blowing a rather large bubble of bubblegum as she glanced at the paper in her friend’s hands.  Shrugging, she shook her head, and her bubblegum popped.

“Nope” She answered.

(y/n) let out a short sound of disappointment as she looked back at the paper.  It had been stuffed haphazardly in her locker, and as soon as she’d put in the combination and opened the door, it had fluttered down to her feet.

It was exciting at first, from the moment she opened it, she hung onto every word spilled out on the page.  It was definitely the grandest gesture anyone had ever done for her, not to mention the most romantic thing she’d ever read.  And to know that someone had written this for her, it made her heart pound in her ears, and her whole face had turned pink.

She read it over three times, before gathering her things for her next class, and racing off.  She’d hoped, she’d crossed her fingers that Beverly knew who the boy was that had forgotten to sign his name.

She even said a little prayer in hopes that it was the boy she wished.

But if Beverly didn’t know about this note, then she probably didn’t know who it was from.

“What’s wrong?” The red haired girl asked, realizing that (y/n) had deflated in her seat.

“Oh, nothing, I just…”

“You want it to be from someone, don’t you?” Beverly asked, a smirk spreading across her lips.

She’s been friends with (y/n) for years now, and knew exactly what that longing look on her face meant.

“Well, maybe,” The girl admitted softly.  “But it’s just so… carefully written, you know? I just feel like… like whoever wrote it should tell me”

“It is odd that it’s not signed,”

Beverly furrowed her brows, eyes skimming over the page skeptically.  Her mind drifted to the beautiful poem she’d gotten on a postcard a couple years ago, and how that hadn’t been signed either.

“That means they don’t want you to know who it’s from”

“But I’m dying to know, Bev”

“Yeah, well, unless you want to interrogate the whole school, you’ll just have to accept it”

(y/n) frowned.

“That’s horrible advice”

Beverly laughed, and shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly.

“Or you could always do a little investigating.  Match up the handwriting, see if there’s anyone who talks to you like that,” She suggested, gesturing to the paper.  “Wanna talk after school? Maybe flip through the yearbook and look at possible candidates?”

“Sure,” (y/n) lets out a small laugh at the idea.  “Making lists always helps”

Of course, Beverly knew that.

“Great, I’ll call you after I finish this essay I’ve been putting off?” The redhead asked.

(y/n) nodded in agreement, thinking this was probably the next best idea they had.

She read through the note one more time, before carefully folding it back up by it’s original creases, and tucking it carefully into her bag.  Class was going to start soon, she’d have to put off her investigation for another time. ___

Richie Tozier always met (y/n) at her locker at the end of the day.  Mostly because it was the only time none of their other friends could drag her away from him.  They had a tendency to want to put distance between the two.

Stan and Eddie had told (y/n) time and time again that she shouldn’t get too ‘exposed’ to Richie because he was such a trashmouth.  She didn’t get it, and ignored their stupid warnings anyways.  She was a big girl, she could make decisions for herself.

Besides, whenever she’d get to her locker to find Richie leaning against it, her knees got weak, and her heart would soar.

“Hello, Tozier” She greeted with a wide smile, one that she didn’t even bother to try taming.

“G’afternoon, m’lady” He responds in a dumb and not too great accent, but she laughs anyways as she spins in her locker combo.

Richie’s tapping his foot, staring at her anxiously.  The good feeling he’d had earlier today getting eaten up by his nerves.  What if she knew?

“Hey, are you doing anything?” She asks him, glancing up at him as she puts her books away.

“Besides standing here and breathing? I guess not” He retorts.

Jesus fucking christ that was the most embarassing thing you’ve ever said, what are you? A dad? Because that was a dad joke you dumb fuck-

“I mean after school,” (y/n) giggles, slinging her backpack over her shoulder, and shutting her locker.  “I want a slushie”

“And I’m the only fella in the land that you want to accompany you?” He asks.

He mentally face-palms again.

For fucks sake would you get it together?

But again, she laughs, and nods her head.

“Sure, something like that,” She tells him.  “Wanna go?”

“Abso-fuckin’-lutely”

They walk side by side out of school and into town.  Normally they’d go to the quarry together to meet the others, but pretty much everyone had something going on, and couldn’t make it.

Some of Richie’s nerves had calmed, but he still found himself tapping at his leg when it would get silent between them.

She had a way of easing his nerves, but still making his heart pound like it was trying to get out of his chest.

(y/n) looked over to him, and leaned over to bump her side against his, bringing him out of his stupor.

“You sure are quiet today, Trashmouth,” She commented.  “Somethin’ on your mind?”

“No, I just like hearing you run your mouth” He replied, hoping that she brushed his awkwardness as just him teasing.

She rolled her eyes back at him, but a smile curled on her lips.

“You’re funny,” She says nonchalantly.  “I didn’t mean to talk so much”

“No really, you ramble a lot, it’s hilarious and adorable”

Her face got hot immediately after the word left his mouth, and so did Richie’s, but he did his best to hide it.

They get to 7-Eleven not too long after, and finally Richie seems to be his usual self.

He mixes a bunch of slushie flavors together, like an animal, and (y/n) can’t help but stick her tongue out as she watches him mix blueberry, cherry, orange, and lemon lime.

“What’s your problem?” Richie asks, adding banana slushie until it’s reached the top of his cup.

(y/n) shakes her head and scrunches up her nose in mock disgust at the action.

“How can you drink that?” She asks, filling her own cup with her usual cherry and blueberry mix.  The way you were supposed to drink them.

“I like to live dangerously, toots” Richie replied with a wink that made her roll her eyes affectionately.

He brought his cup to the counter, giving the clerk the money for it and then some to cover (y/n’s).  Just as she’d walked up to the register, sipping on her perfectly mixed drink, Richie was already grabbing her arm and pulling her out of the store.

“But I have to-”

“I already paid,” He told her, and cut her off just as she opened her mouth to protest.  “Too late now, it’s already paid for, now come on”

She made a face, because she did not need him to do that, but it was still kind, so she thanked him quietly and followed behind him as they went outside.

They sat on the curb, setting their bookbags down and enjoying their cold drinks.

“It’s weird that we don’t hang out” (y/n) said, and Richie looked over to her, but she was staring down at her cup.

“Yeah,” He agreed.  “But it’d be pretty humiliating to be murdered by Eddie, so…”

She laughs, but it’s half-hearted.

“Still…” She trails off, and dares a glance over to him.  “We should just hang out anyways” Her eyes can’t meet his as she speaks, too bashful, but she waits for him to respond.

Richie gives her a wide grin, and when he chuckles, she finally looks up at him.

“How devious of you, breaking rules and shit” He says before sipping on his horrible concoction of flavors that shouldn’t taste good together.

“It’s not a rule,” She says, scolding him just a bit.  “It’s just… I don’t want to upset my friends, our friends,” She says carefully, and then peeks up at him nervously.  “But… you’re my friend too you know”

Somehow she did that thing again.  Where his heart skyrockets, and then crashes so hard in his gut he thinks it might make him barf.

That might be his slushie talking, though.

“Yeah, I know,” Richie responds, staring downwards so he didn’t have to see her expression.  “You’re my friend too”

A small smile quirks on her lips, and then she scoots closer to him, setting her drink down to grab her bag.

“As my friend, would you like to help me on a very top secret investigation?”

She wiggles her eyebrows at him excitedly before opening her backpack, and rummaging in it.

“I want to ask more questions but how can I say no to an invitation like- oh fuck”

She pulls out a folded piece of paper that Richie recognizes instantly, he almost spits out orange flavor from his nose, but he’s quick to swallow and sets his cup down.

As (y/n) excitedly hands him the opened note, he grabs at it frantically, eyes scanning over the words he thought he’d memorized.  He hadn’t, apparently, because reading it now made his gut wrench and he wished he had just gotten a plain cherry slushie.

“Isn’t that fucking awesome?” (y/n) squeals, latching onto his arm with both hands, and reading along with him.

Richie’s eyes probably scanned over the paper four times before he finally reacted.

“Holy shit, toots,” He mumbled.  “You’ve got someone whipped”

She blinked at him, her smile still on her face, even though with every passing second, she was confirming her worst thought.  

It wasn’t Richie.

A part of her heart longed for him to say ‘to be honest… I wrote you this’.  But the longer Richie stared at it, analyzing the text, the harder reality struck her.  It couldn’t be him.

When he handed her the note back, she frowned for a moment, but just as quickly plastered on a smile.

“Something wrong with it?” Richie asked, a bit too impulsive, but he caught her look and freaked out at the thought that she was disappointed in it.

“No, actually, it’s entirely perfect,” She admitted softly, holding onto the edges of the paper as not to put a single crinkle in it.  “But Bev says that whoever did write it, had no intention of coming forward”

“Well, yeah, isn’t that the point?” Richie asked.

“The point?” (y/n) repeated unsurely.

“Yeah, that now you know someone out there… loves you… that much”

He cringed at his words, but (y/n) stared up at him, waiting for more of an explanation.

“I don’t understand,” She told him.  “If I loved someone that much… I think that it would be very difficult for me to hide that,”

She wasn’t wrong, but Richie almost shivered as a chill went down his spine.

“I mean, wouldn’t you?”

“Wouldn’t I what?” He asked, too lost in thought to focus on her words.

“Well, think of it from my perspective,” (y/n) angled her body towards his as she spoke.  “If you’d gotten a note like this, wouldn’t you expect someone to come out and just- I don’t know, profess their love to you? It feels like a pretty grand gesture to me,”

Richie contemplates it for a moment.  He thinks about declaring his love for her, loudly, in front of the whole school, the whole world, and just pouring his heart out in ways he couldn’t have done on paper.  Telling her every beautiful thing about her that he loves, every wonderful thing that has changed his life, and his view on what it truly means to be alive-

“I’m daydreaming way too much,” (y/n) draws him back from his thoughts with a short laugh and a shake of her head.  “Wow, I really thought I was in a romance novel for a second there”

She laughs again, but Richie can barely hold a smile.

“I don’t think that’s a bad thing,” He says, picking up his slushie.  “And I think it’s normal for you to want to… um… know who wrote it”

She gives him a sad sort of smile, and finally lets go of his arm so she can grab hold of her own slushie.

“I don’t think I’m gonna figure it out,” She sighs.  “But if you hear anything, you’d tell me, right?”

“Absolutely,” Richie answers without hesitation, and the smile that takes over her lips is genuine this time.  “Trade?” He asks, holding out his slushie for her.

Her nose crinkles again, but she curiously leans over to take a sip from his straw.

After swallowing, she smacks her lips, tasting the remnants of the strange flavor.

“Okay.  It’s not that bad” She admits, and Richie beams at her victoriously before drinking from her own plain slushie.

“I knew you’d like it, toots”

They hang out on the curbside until their slushies are gone, and then Richie walks her home.

She does an odd thing as she says goodbye though, something she’s never done before anyways.

She hugs him.

It’s quick, and he doesn’t even have the time to reciprocate the action before she’s pulling away, smiling as she waves, and heads inside.

It’s simple, but he thinks about it over and over as he walks home. ___

(y/n),

I want to keep this simple, because honestly if I get too into it I think I’ll keep writing until there’s no more paper in the world.  Or at least no more paper that I have.

So, I’m in love with you, take that as you will, but writing it has been surreal, let alone feeling it for the last year or so.  I just wanted to let you know, because it’s been weighing on me for a while now, and I think I’m going to die soon from feeling it all the time.

And it’s not artificial either, it’s real love, and I’ve felt it long enough now to know that it's a complete and total infatuation I have for you, I’m not just romanticizing what we have.  Which isn’t much to begin with.  But still, I love you.

I thought you deserved to know.  It doesn’t feel fair to you, for me to have this all-consuming feeling and not let you know, even though it concerns you.  I think you’re the greatest person I’ve ever met, and the greatest one I ever will meet, and I think that you deserve to be loved like this, the way I love you.

Yours,

Empty.

(y/n) stared at that spot like if she waited long enough, a name would appear.  Of course, after ten minutes of laying in bed and staring, nothing happened.

Besides the sudden spikes in her heartbeat of course.

But she’d figure it out eventually.  Even if it took the rest of the year, hell, even if it took the rest of her life, she was committed to finding the author. ___

Richie woke up earlier than usual the next morning.  Maybe because he couldn’t sleep, maybe because all he thought about was (y/n) and the fact that he’d poured his heart out to her, and she didn’t even know it.

And he was just dying to do it again.

It may have been too early to go to school, but he got himself ready and left the house anyways.

He decided that it was a good idea to collect flowers on his walk to school, stalling and plucking any of the prettiest ones he could find.

Dandelions are weeds, Richie, his mother’s voice scolded in his head, but he pushed the thought away.

By the time he made it to school, he had quite an abundance of dandelions, clovers, bluebells, and some tiny purple flower that he knew she’d think was pretty.

He was pretty proud that he was able to tie the tiny bouquet with a broken dandelion stem.  And he thought that (y/n) would find it cute too.  She was always picking dandelions and cattails and other strange plants from the quarry, either placing them in Bev’s hair, or fashioning them together in a crown.

Once he’d made it to the school, he had just enough time to stick the flowers carefully into the vents of (y/n’s) locker, so that they would stay in place without falling. ___

(y/n) almost squealed with delight when she’d found the gift at her locker this morning.  Beverly had to remind her that it was too early in the day for such high pitched sounds.

“But they’re so cute” (y/n) murmured.

“So is this a regular thing then?” Beverly asked, drawing (y/n) out of the trance she appeared to be in while staring at the flowers.  “You know, the notes and flowers and… shit”

(y/n’s) brows furrowed, but Beverly just smirked back at her.

“I hope so,” She answered.  “I mean, it should be easier to figure out who it is that way, right? They’ve got to slip up at some point”

“I guess that makes sense,” Beverly shrugs.  “Hey, how come you didn't call me yesterday? I thought we were gonna flip through yearbooks and list the options?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” (y/n) exclaimed.  “I completely forgot, I just got caught up with…”

“With what?” Beverly asked.

(y/n) glanced around the busy halls, making sure that Stan or Eddie was nowhere around.

“Okay, don’t tell the others… but Richie and I hung out yesterday” (y/n) admitted, a bit more shy than she needed to be.  

Her cheeks turned pink, and she had to bite back a grin.  The action only made Bev’s smirk widen.

“Oh did you?” She mused, crossing her arms and leaning against the locker next to (y/n’s).

“Yeah,” (y/n) mumbled, almost dreamily.  “We got slushies”

“Well isn’t that just romantic?”

“What? No- no it wasn’t like- no no no-”

“You’re stammering,” Beverly laughs.  “Besides, I already knew you had a thing for him”

“What-!?” (y/n) hissed, but it didn’t matter, because Bev just shook her head.

“Yeah, it was pretty obvious.  But anyways, how was it? Did you show him the note?”

“I did…” She said through a small huff.  “ANd um, it wasn’t from him”

“Oh” Beverly said with the same disappointment.

“But that’s okay, it’s Richie, he would never do something like that,” (y/n) brushed it off with an awkward laugh.  “Besides, you know how Stan and Eddie are, always trying to keep me away from him”

Beverly rolled her eyes, but she could tell that she’d hoped Richie had been behind all this, so she tried to move past the sensitive subject.

“Speaking of those idiot boys, we better get to class” ___

The next day, (y/n) found another small string of flowers tucked into the vents of her locker.

And the day after that, multiple small bouquets.

And the day after that, her locker was blanketed in dandelion and lilac heads, taped carefully to cover the whole door.  She probably gawked at it for five minutes before putting in her combination as delicately as possible, not wanting to make any of the pretty decorations fall off.

“Wow,”

The voice made her jump, and she swiveled around to see Richie grinning at the current state of her locker.

“That’s… a lot” He said, it was all he could think to say.

“Yeah,” (y/n) answered bashfully, letting out a soft giggle.  “Whoever did this must have come to school really early,” She mumbled, mostly to herself.

Maybe that’s how she’d get him, and it dawned on her, that it was the only possible solution.

Her eyes noticeably widened as her jaw dropped open at the realization.

“Oh my god, Richie, you’re a genius”

“Um-”

“Before school, they’ve got to do all this before school! In the morning!”

She grabs his shoulders and shakes him excitedly without thinking.  The poor boy looks so confused, and worried, but he gives her the best smile he can manage.  It’s not pretty.

“You want to come with me?” She asks him.

She looks so hopeful, her eyes are bright and she’s pushing her lips together to keep from smiling too wide, but Richie can tell she wants to.

Well.  Fuck.

“Want to, um, what-?”

“Want to catch him with me?” She asks, trying to talk quietly, but the eagerness in her voice makes it go up a couple octaves.

He thinks she looks like a six year old on christmas morning.  And how is he supposed to say no to her?

“Sure,” He says, and it takes a lot for him not to let out a sigh as he agrees.  “How early though? Because I like to sleep until I absolutely have to-”

“Thank you, Richie!” (y/n’s) enthusiasm was bubbling over the top, as she practically jumped up to kiss his cheek, before grabbing her things to head off to class.  

He’s stunned to frozenness, of course, by the quick action.

“I gotta go, but I’ll call you tonight to talk about the morning!” She calls after him, and waves goodbye as she makes her way down the hall.

Even when the bell rings, he’s still standing there, the spot on his face where her lips had brushed burning hot on his skin.

But the sweet moment is quickly washed away as he realizes what he just agreed to. ___

Richie isn’t surprised to hear (y/n’s) voice as soon as he picked up his phone that night.  It was late, far too late for him to be up and talking on the phone, but he’d keep his voice down so his parents wouldn’t wake up.

Luckily, he had his own extension in his room.

“Alright toots, what’s your plan?” He asked, sitting back on his bed while she began her rambling.

“Okay, I’ve thought it out perfectly,” She starts, and he expected no less.  “The perfect hiding spot- and stay with me here- is the girl’s bathroom across the hall from my-”

“Yeah, no,” Richie disagreed right away.  “I’m not going in the girl’s bathroom, I’m not that much of a perv”

“It’s not pervy!” She argued.  “No one else will be there, it’s fine.  Now hush and listen,”

Richie rolls his eyes, but manages to keep quiet so she can continue explaining her plan.

“I say we hide out there for half an hour, and catch him in the act!”

The boy can’t help with wince, feeling guilty, since she won’t be catching anybody.

“Alright then,” He exhales.  “You’re telling me I have to get up at 6:30?”

“No, I’m telling you we have to be there at 6:30,” She corrects him politely.  “You should probably get up around-”

“Why don’t you swing by here on your way, and then we’ll just go together,” Richie suggests.  “Just ring the doorbell, and I’ll wake up, and we’ll go”

“Richie, that won’t be nearly enough time-”

“Trust me toots, it’s plenty of time,” He cuts her off, and she’s quiet on the other end of the line.  “Well, I best be getting to sleep since you’re getting me up so early for this scheme of yours”

“It’s not a scheme, Tozier, it’s a plan!”

“It’s a scheme”

“Plan!”

“G’night toots” Richie laughs, and he can hear her mumbling in frustration.

“Goodnight” She answers, and then hangs up the line.

Almost as soon as he puts the phone down, Richie’s confidence disappears, and anxiety strikes him again.  

He really was going to kill Ben for getting him into all this.  It was way out of hand.

Although he supposed he could’ve just written the note and left it… but he liked getting the flowers for her, he liked seeing her face light up in the mornings when she’d find them.

He needed a plan of his own. ___

The following morning, (y/n) had been at Richie’s door at 6:15 sharp, giving them just enough time to walk to school… and then some because she figured Richie wouldn’t be out of bed and ready to go as he thought he would be.

And he wasn’t.

He was a slow morning person too.  Even just changing took him way too long.  But eventually he dragged himself out of the house, his backpack barely hanging on one of his shoulders as the pair walked to school together.

“Whatcha starin’ for?” He mumbles out, before yawning.

He didn’t have to get up this early before now.  (y/n) really was dedicated to this mystery.

She’d been trying not to laugh as she looked at him.  His hair disheveled, he’d probably haphazardly combed through it, the curls poking every which way.  He’d hardly been able to put on sweats and a tee shirt, with a jacket loosely thrown over it to keep warm.  It appeared he’d started to zip it up but gave up before he even reached halfway and left the house.

Even his glasses sat crooked on his face.

“You, you dork,” (y/n) laughs, and grabs his arm to stop him for a moment.  “Do you look at yourself before you leave the house?” She asks as she zips his jacket up for him, and then adjusts his glasses to fit properly over his nose.

“Sorry we don’t all wake up hours early to pick out an outfit and do our makeup” He teases back, before playfully swatting her hands off him.

(y/n) rolls her eyes.

“I picked out my clothes the night before, dummy,” She tells him, matter of factly.  “And I don’t wear makeup”

Richie’s brows furrow, and his nose scrunches up.

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” She laughs back at him.  “Now wake up more! This morning is important”

“Right right, I’ll work on that”

But you see, Richie hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep in four days now.  He’d be up all night thinking about (y/n), and then get up early to enact his plan of the day for her locker.  He couldn't have gotten more than six hours the past few nights.

So by the time they got to the school, he was already done for the day, and it wasn’t even 6:30 in the morning yet.

He followed sluggishly next to (y/n), who had never been more wide awake and perky in her whole life.  And once they reached the girl’s bathroom, he nearly collapsed onto the tiled floor.

It was a good thing that the entrance to the bathroom itself didn’t have doors- a choice made by the principal, who thought that it would help them detect if anyone were smoking in the stalls.  

(The students had long ago figured out how to crack the windows so they could just smoke out of there, but in this case, (y/n) was glad that there was an opening to the hall to spy through)

The pair sat just inside of the bathroom, across from each other.  (y/n) was leaning against the space next to the entrance, where she could easily peek her head around the corner and see her flower covered locker.  Richie sat against the brick panel just across from her, which acted as a barrier to see the bathroom from the outside.

It was just then that (y/n) realized how ridiculous her school’s plan to combat underage smoking really was.  Especially as Richie pulled out a cigarette and lit it right then.

“Richie!” She scolded in a hiss, but he shrugged innocently.

“There’s no one else here” Was his answer, and she didn’t argue it any further.

She didn’t care much, she was far too excited about the events this morning was going to unfold.  Richie, however, slumped further against the wall, about to fall asleep with his cigarette still in his mouth.

“Oh, I brought snacks,” (y/n) told him, pulling her backpack around, and opening it up to dig for what she packed.  “I knew you wouldn’t eat before we left.  And in every cop movie, they eat during the stakeout”

He thinks that his heart might explode, because never before had he heard the simplest of things sound so cute.

As she pulls out two jumbo oatmeal cream pies, which are the perfect substitute for breakfast, his eyes catch a small plastic bag inside her backpack.

“You kept all those?” He asks, recognizing the flowers sealed inside.

“Oh, yeah,” (y/n) answers, adjusting the small bag so the flowers wouldn’t get crushed.  “I thought they were pretty” She told him, before shrugging a shoulder.

Richie watches her while she’s focused on these flowers, these weeds that he’d gotten for her.  There was a small smile on her face as she examined them, even though they were dying, and there was a pile of petals at the bottom of the bag.  But still she’d kept them.

“What are you gonna do when you find him, anyway?” Richie asked, and right away she put the flowers away and zipped up her backpack.

“I guess get to know him,” She answers, but she sounds unsure.

They simultaneously open their plastic wrapped breakfast cakes.

“Go on dates, I have to give him a chance, don’t I?”

“You say that like you don’t want to” Richie chuckles, eating in between puffs of a cigarette.

“I do,” She tells him, but it’s faint.  “I do, it’s just… I don’t know what to expect,”

Richie only hums, because he doesn’t know what to say to her.  There’s nothing he could say, or so he thinks.  

“Can I be honest?”

“I’m sittin’ here either way, toots” He teases back.

“A part of me doesn’t really want to know” She admits, and takes a rather large bite of her breakfast snack.

“What? Why?” Richie asks.

“Um, well,” She sighs through a mouthful of food.  “I’m nervous”

You have no idea the amount of anxiety I’ve been through this week, Richie thinks, but he nods his head in understanding.

“You don’t think it’s gonna be who you want it to?” He asks, and she chuckles humorlessly.

“I know it’s not who I want it to be,” She says, which only confuses him more.  “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to give whoever it is a chance, it’s only fair, he’s done nothing but- but shower me in all these flowers and this declaration of love, you know?”

Richie nods, but it’s a very small movement.

He’s forgotten both his breakfast and his smoke in his hands as he stares at her, hanging onto every word she spoke.

“Yeah, I know” He agrees quietly.

(y/n’s) quiet as she continues to eat, the gears in her head turning almost as fast as her heart is beating.  Richie can almost see her processing through every boy in school, and wondering if any of them could be the one.

He wondered if he crossed her mind when she went through this mental list.

“Hey,” Richie whispered, and kicked at her foot.  “Someone’s coming down the hall”

Her expression changed in a split second, and she wiggled with excitement, before peeking out the doorway to see who was coming.

Richie felt his gut churning, he thought it might just be mush by the time this was over.

Her anticipation grew and grew as the footsteps got closer, and just when the person rounded the corner, all that came to mind was oh?

Bill Denbrough walked right up to her locker, slipped a piece of paper in the vents, did a scan to make sure no one was around, and then walked away.

And that was it.

She physically deflated in front of him, and he could see the disappointment coming off her in waves.

There was a furrow in her brows, and her grin fell to a slight frown.  Even her eyes had a sadness and a confusion to them that Richie’s never seen before.

“Bill?” She mumbled, mostly to herself.  “Bill Denbrough?”

Richie didn’t say anything, the guilt he was feeling eating at him from the inside.

(y/n’s) eyes meet his, but still, he’s silent.  She takes his contorted expression as confusion and she shakes her head a bit.

“I don’t- I don’t understand,” She continues to mumbles, slowly taking bites out of her oatmeal cream pie.  “Bill? Bill’s my friend”

“Well- do you- do you want to go talk to him?” Richie asks, but it does nothing to ease her perplexed state.

“Um…”

It’s all she says.

She peeks around the doorway again, watching Bill as he walks down the hall, probably towards his first class.  The buses would arrive in a few minutes, and classes would start not too long after.

“(y/n)?” Richie asks, starting to feel even worse.  “Are you alright?”

“I- yeah” She stammers back, which proves she’s lying through her teeth.

“Are you sure?” Richie asks, and the look she gives him pretty much assures him that he’s going straight to hell when he dies.

She just looks so disappointed, lost and confused, and Richie didn’t think that unless Bowers himself had been at her locker, then she wouldn’t have been let down.

Clearly, this was worse.

All she does is nod her head, and toss the rest of her treat in the trash.

“(y/n)-”

“I’m gonna go to class,” She tells him, quiet, and shaky.  “I- I’ll see you after school?”

She glances at him as she grabs her bag and waits at the doorway, and Richie nods his head back at her.

And then she takes off.

Richie wished that some greater force would just kill him now. ___

“I’ve got a question for you, Big Bill,”

Beverly sits down at the lunch table, and just from the look on her face, the boys are already nervous about how this conversation is going to end.

The redhead crosses her legs before leaning over the lunch table, staring at Bill almost threateningly.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Wh-what?” The boy stuttered back helplessly.

“(y/n) told me today that her little secret admirer…  was you,” She said, eyes narrowing.  “But… that doesn’t make any sense”

Bill cast a quick glance to Richie, but he kept his eyes trained on his food, which he was only poking at.

“W-well, I-”

“Because,” Beverly continued to explain herself, “I know that you don’t like her, not like that, not in the way her little note says”

“B-Bev I-”

“So,” The redhead cuts him off again, “Either you thought this was a funny joke, and I’ll kick your ass.  Or, someone put you up to it”

The others at the table are on the edge of their seats, eager to see what happens next.

Besides Richie, who is still moping.

Ben, however, was probably the most excited one to see where this went.  Seeing as he knew that Richie was the true writer of the notes, and he’d been the one to pick the flowers.  And he realized that Richie must have asked Bill to do his dirty work, to throw off (y/n).  But Richie could not have anticipated this chain reaction.

(y/n) herself didn't even come to the cafeteria for lunch today.  She’d made plans with a teacher for an extra credit assignment just to get out of seeing Bill.  She’d told Bev about this morning, and then went on to try and find a way out of every class she had with Bill.  Not because she was upset with him- she could never, Bill was one of her best friends- but because she didn’t want to make it more awkward than it already was.

“I- I wasn’t tr-trying to hurt h-her,” Bill said.  “I w-was just-”

“Then who is it?” Beverly asked.  “Someone must have told you to do it, who?”

Richie hated that she was too smart for her own good.

“I- I can’t t-tell you,” Bill huffed.  “I-I p-promised”

“Uh-huh, look, (y/n’s) my best friend, and you’re gonna have to tell me, so spit it out”

“I p-promised”

“I don’t give a shit, just spill-”

“It was me”

It only took three words for the attention of the whole table to focus on Richie.  And usually when he opened his mouth, the others had a knack for completely shutting him out.

If he thought Beverly was upset before, oh boy, this was an unfiltered rage she’d just tapped into.

“What?” Her voice was low, and pissed.

“Yeah” RIchie shrugged.

“You did what?” Stan shrieked, but Richie ignored him, still staring straight at Beverly.

“Where the hell do you get off? Do you think this shit’s funny-?”

“It wasn’t a joke,” Richie said, calmly, and the red in Bev’s cheeks started to fade out.  “It was real, I wrote that note for real, and I wanted to give her all the flowers and stuff”

Beverly blinked, completely baffled.

“You did what?” Stan repeated.

Richie just shrugged his shoulders, and went back to eating his lunch.

“You- but you-” Beverly shook her head, completely thrown off.  “You?” Was her final question, and it wasn’t much, but it was all that she could articulate.

“Yeah.  Me,” Richie responded.  “You gonna go tell her now?”

Beverly shook her head, surprising him.

“Really?” He asked.  “Two minutes ago you were gonna kill Bill-”

“You have to be the one to do it,” Bev told him.

Richie snorted.

“Right” He said sarcastically.

“No way” Stan interjected, but he was still being ignored.

“No, really,” Bev continued.  “Right now she thinks that her friend is into her-”

“I’m her friend too” Richie said with furrowed brows.

Beverly nodded her head from side to side.

“Eh, yeah, but…” She trailed off, because she couldn’t tell Richie that she knew (y/n) liked him.  “I feel like her knowing the truth is more important right now”

“Yeah, because I want to ruin the barely-friendship we have now” Richie rolls his eyes.

“Come on-”

“I’m not telling her” He deadpanned, before Beverly could try to convince him.

“Yeah, he’s not telling her” Stan chimed in, mouth full of pot pie.

“Not because of you, dingbat,” He muttered with a dirty look towards his friend.  “Because I like her, and I’d like to be friends with her”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Beverly said, finally opening up her lunch bag.  “I guarantee it’d be worth it if you just gave in”

Richie shook his head, and didn’t bother to argue with her anymore.  He doesn’t want to have to argue something so stupid, especially when this was something unchangeable.

He was in love with a girl he knew he didn’t deserve to have, and so he’d just have to live with it. ___

As he was waiting by her locker at the end of the day, Richie wondered if he’d be able to live with this, knowing that he’s maybe ruined her whole world- or at least just her friendship with Bill.

When she finally makes her way to her locker, she seems better than this morning, and offers him a kind smile as she reaches him.

Richie grins back at her, completely out of relief.

And then he hugs her.  She’s about to turn to put in her combination, and the action takes her by surprise, but she pats his back sweetly before he lets go.

“I’m really sorry about this morning,” He told her, and she tilts her head to the side a bit.  “I wasn’t- I was just tired and didn’t know how to act, I’m so sorr-”

“Richie, don’t be sorry,” (y/n) cuts off his babbling.  “It’s not your fault, you didn’t do anything wrong”

She gives him a genuine look, a kind look, convincing him that there was no need for his guilt, and still, he felt like a piece of shit.

“Well, Bill, I mean, you guys are friends, and-”

“It’s no big deal Richie, I overreacted,” (y/n) shook her head, before putting in her combination to collect her things.  “I just wasn’t expecting him is all”

“Wh-who were you expecting?” Richie stammered out, and then cringed.

“I don’t know,” (y/n) hummed.  “Just… not him”

She puts her books away, and gathers what she’d need to do her homework tonight, before shutting her locker and looking up at him readily.

She notices the crease between his brows, and he seems very zoned out, because he’s just standing there, instead of heading out.

“Rich?” She asks, holding onto the straps of her backpack.  “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, sorry, yeah” He nodded, and moved out of his stiff position to walk by her side down the hall.

She kicks his foot gently, not to trip him, just to tease.

“Stop with the apologizing,” She says with a small giggle.  “Hey, do you want to get slushies again?”

He looks down at her, but doesn’t really answer, just stares at her.

Her hair is in a messy bun resting at the back of her head, and more strands have fallen out than are still being held in the hair tie, but somehow it’s still perfect.  It’s a very (y/n) look.

She kicks at his foot again.

“Yeah, sure, sounds good” He finally snaps himself out of his daze.

“You okay upstairs?”  She asks him playfully.

“Are you asking me if I’m crazy?” Richie asks, just as they make their way out of the school, and down the front steps.

“No, never,” (y/n) laughs again.  “You just seem out of it..?” She speaks like it’s a suggestion, as though she’s asking him.

“You’re right, and I completely blame you for waking me up so early”

“Blame me?” (y/n) repeats.

“Yes! You were the one that made me wake up at the crack-of-fucking-dawn!” Richie retorts, whilst giggling because he can’t help it when he’s joking with her.

Somehow when he’s cracking jokes with the others, he always laughs loudly, his friends find it annoying.  But with (y/n), his boisterous laughs faded into childlike giggles.

“Well excuse me for being a romantic,” She said, playfully narrowing her eyes at him.  “I thought you would understand”

Richie’s brows crinkle, and he looks down at her with an amused smile.

“Me? You thought I’d understand?”

“Yes!” She answered enthusiastically.

“And what in the fuck makes you think I’m a romantic?” Richie asked with a snort, but he was starting to blush.

“Obviously because you bothered to come with me this morning,” (y/n) answered, a bright smile on her face.  “If you weren’t a romantic, then you wouldn’t have come”

“That doesn’t-”

“Awe Richie, you can admit it,”

He thinks his heart stopped in his chest, and he’s about to die.

“You wanted me to find loooove” She sing-songs the word, and it made him roll his eyes.

“Oh toots, you think far too highly of me” He tells her in his poor british accent.

“No, I don’t think so,” (y/n) shakes her head.  “I just think you don’t want to admit it.  You just wanna be the cool guy”

“So you think I’m romantic and cool?” He asks, and now she’s the one to roll her eyes, but it’s an affectionate action, and accompanied by a bright smile.

“Don’t be so full of yourself” She says, before sticking her tongue out at him.

“I’m just repeating your words toots,” He responds.  “You flatter me”

She laughs, despite herself, and he beams back at her.

“Yeah, well, you’re also a dummy” She murmurs, but it doesn’t hinder Richie’s good mood.

He already knew that.  He just sure loved hearing those other things from her.

Once at the 7-Eleven, (y/n) made her same cherry and blueberry slushie, and then raced to the counter to pay for both of their drinks while Richie was too busy with making his terrible drink.

Just as he turned to head up to the register, he found her standing there, a smirk on her face while she sipped on her drink.

“You didn’t” He groaned, but she lifted a shoulder and gave him a knowing look.

“I did” She replied with a grin, and nodded her head for him to follow her outside.

“You’re the worst” He mutters as he sits next to her.

She hums, holding her slushie between her hands and giving him a shit eating grin.

“That’s fair,” She responds, poking his arm teasingly.  “And you should know that you’re also the worst”

“That’s fair,” He mimics, and taps his cup against hers.

They drink in silence for a bit, besides a few jokes from Richie here and there that he can’t help.  But eventually she just has to get it off her chest.

“So, did you know?” She asks him, nervously looking over to him.  “About Bill? Did he ever… say anything?”

Richie knows then that the mistake he’s made is catastrophic.

“Um, no, he didn’t” He said, which isn’t technically a lie.

But then again, if you have to argue that it’s not a lie… it definitely isn’t the right thing to say.

“Oh” She mumbles, and moves her straw around in her cup, mixing the red and blue flavors.

“He’s probably just shy,” Richie blurts out.  “You know, otherwise he would’ve just handed you all that stuff”

“I suppose,” She agrees in a mumble.  “It’s just odd, you know, since you’re his best friend”

“I mean, best friends don’t always share everything”

“That’s not true, there’s nothing I wouldn’t tell Bev,” (y/n) tells him sincerely.  “And even when I have hid things, she’s always figured it out anyways.  She’s always had a way of reading me,” She giggles softly as she reminisces on how good of a friend she has.  “Don’t you tell him everything?”

“Well- kind of,” Richie’s still stammering, as a result of him bending over backwards to keep his secret.  “I know that, um, well he’d do anything for me,” He says.  “And I’d do the same for him too”

“That’s what best friends are, aren’t they?” (y/n) asks, looking back at him again.  “Someone you can trust and put before anyone else in the world? Someone worth fighting for?”

“You’re cheesy,” Richie says with a nervous laugh.

He has to stop himself from tugging at his collar, because fuck, he felt like he might just overheat.

“But that’s a good thing!” He adds impulsively.

(y/n) smiles.

“Mostly I think they’re secret keepers” She hums.

“I can’t imagine you have that many secrets” Richie replies, and again, she smiles at him.

“You’d be surprised,” She says, so softly he thinks she’s trying to tell him one, but he doesn’t understand it.  “But no, there’s not many”

“Tell me one” He says before he could think of something more suave.

She glances over at him,and one of her eyebrows quirks up in surprise.

“And what makes you think you’re so deserving of one of my secrets?”

“I just dare you to” Richie says, and a smirk tugs on his lips because he’s a piece of shit like that, but it makes (y/n) laugh.

“Well, if you dare me to, I suppose I’m obligated then, hm?”

“You absolutely are toots,” He says.  “So, are you a man or mouse?”

“I’m but a humble girl,” She says in her best horrible british accent, leaning over to him dramatically.

She can’t contain her laughter, which makes it all the more adorable to him, and he gazes at her fondly while her hands pat against his arm softly.

“But if my deepest darkest secrets are the entertainment you seek, then that is the entertainment you shall receive” She continues in her accent.

Richie rubs his hands together in a maniacal fashion, and he scoots closer to her with anticipation.

A part of her is screaming to tell him how she feels, that’s probably her greatest secret after all.  But she looks at him and reminds herself just why she can’t.

It was too hard just to become friends, to get past the barrier that had been (and still is) Eddie and Stan’s disapproval, so a friendship is just what she’d have to accept right now.

“Well, this isn’t exactly a secret,” She sighs, “But I guess you don’t know, it’s kind of a secret from you”

Richie’s brows furrow, but his lips turn into a smile as her hands wring together nervously.

“And what could you possibly have to hide from me, toots?” He asks, his smile still stuck on his face.

Her fingers are still fiddling as she meets his eyes, and she licks her lips before taking in a deep breath.

“Well, so, um, so you know how Stan and Eddie are always being… well, I think they’re overprotective for some odd reason, but they used to always drag me away? Whenever I was around you?”

“Yeah?” Richie asked, wondering where the hell she could be going with this.

“Yeah, well…”

“Well what?” Richie asked, dying to know.  “You realized they had good reasons?”

“What? No!” (y/n) swatted at his arm.  “Of course not, just the opposite, actually”

“The opposite?”

“Yes…” She responded in a huff.  “They told me that they weren’t going to invite you to movie night one time, and I… maybe… yelled a little,”

Richie smirked, enjoying the image in his head of (y/n) chewing out Stan and Eddie.

“And… well, I told them that I wanted to be friends with you whether or not they were happy about it.  And maybe they still like to cover my ears whenever you talk, and they still talk shit, but I- I don’t care,”

She realizes she’s rambling, and her hands are moving around rapidly in front of her, and suddenly she pauses to collect herself, before looking at him.

“Anyways, that’s why I asked you to walk me home from school” She finishes softly.

“Wait,” Richie shakes his head, and his brows furrow.  “I thought you said that Bowers started following you?”

(y/n) gives him a sheepish smile, before shaking her head.

“Nope,” Her voice was barely a mumble.  “I tricked you into being friends with me”

Richie let out a scoff, before his lips pulled into a wide grin, and he nudged his shoulder down against hers.

“You sly little devil,” He teased, and he couldn’t miss the blush spreading over her cheeks.  “You deceived me?”

“Yep,” She shrugged.  “That’s how desperate I was” She adds with a shy laugh.

His heart is soaring, and for a minute, he forgot about the mess he’d gotten himself into.

“Well you must have been lonely seeing as you were looking for my friendship” He teased, but she shook her head at him.

“Don’t talk like that, you’re one of my closest friends, I love hanging out with you,”

Oh fuck, this girl will be the death of me.

“I don’t regret any of it, not at all” She adds sweetly.

And goddamnit, the look on her face is so sincere, so kind, and if he weren’t such a fool, he probably would have kissed her right then and there.

“You are a romantic,” He tells her instead, and her small smile widens.

Richie reaches his hand out, offering to take her empty cup to throw away.  She thanks him as she hands it to him, and watches him as he gets up and tosses it in the bin at the front doors.

When he comes back to her, he extends his hand again, but this time his silent offer is to help her stand.  She takes it, without hesitation, and he pulls her to her feet.

“Ready to go?” He asks, letting go of her hand after lingering for just one extra second.

(y/n) nods, adjusting her backpack as she walks with him in the direction of home.  She doesn’t ask him to walk her home, and he doesn’t offer, but they both know he is, because he always does.

They talk more, about anything they can think of, really.  School, their friends, random rumors going around that can’t be true but sure are fascinating to talk about.  They cover anything and everything- except for Bill, except for the notes and the flowers, and for the ten minutes it takes to get (y/n) home, Richie lives in a world where it doesn’t even exist.

It’s not until they reach her doorstep that he remembers.  Not by choice- but he can’t help but be reminded of it every time her eyes meet his.

“As always Tozier,” (y/n) sighs, her hands latching onto his wrists as she smiles up at him, “Thank you for walking me home”

He smiles back at her, but it isn’t his typical shit eating grin.  It’s small and soft, it’s loving.

“Every time, toots” He tells her sweetly.

There’s a small laugh that comes out of her in a breath, and she squeezes his wrists gently before letting go.

“See you tomorrow Rich” She says, and turns to her door.

He starts to go, but the further he gets the more of a weight he feels on his shoulders, to the point that he knows if he doesn’t turn around, he might collapse on her driveway.

So he does just that, he spins around, and walks back up to her.

“Wait, (y/n/n)?”

“Yeah?” She asks, blinking at him, waiting patiently for him to continue, which for some reason it’s taking him a moment to speak again.

“Do you want to walk to school together in the morning?”

Her head tilts just barely to the side at his odd and sudden request, but a smile blossoms on her lips, and she nods her head.

“Sure” She agrees delightedly.

“Okay,” He nods back at her, and some of his guilt washes away.  “I’ll pick you up this time”

“Okay,” She repeats.  “I’ll be waiting”

Again, he’s nodding, but it’s rapid and nervous and he can almost hear his own heart beating inside of his head.

“Okay, bye” He says, stepping back to leave this time.

But goddamn it he can’t do it, he can’t move, not a single muscle, he’s frozen there in front of her doorstep, nearly a statue, struck by anxiety and guilt and worst of all, love.

He can’t stop himself, the words tumble out before he even thinks about their consequences.

But this is what happens when it comes to (y/n), he can’t control his actions whatsoever.  His heart takes the wheel and does whatever the fuck it wants, and it wants (y/n) more than anything in the whole fucking world.

(Richie agrees with this, but he thinks maybe if his heart could dial it back a little, then he wouldn’t be so scared all the time, like he is right now)

“It was me” His heart speaks for him, without warning, without a plan.  It just wants to speak the words into existence.

Not just to his friends at the lunch table, that wasn’t enough.  It needed (y/n’s) own ears to hear.  Richie wanted (y/n) to hear.

“What?” She asks, turning around to face him.

Her question is genuine, she doesn’t understand what he’s referring to, but something about the look on his face, the one of sheer guilt from the short confession, tugged at her deep down.  And deep down, she knew exactly what he was telling her.

She could translate what he truly meant just from the way his eyebrows creased, and how he was chewing at the inside of his cheek, and grinding his teeth.

“All of it, everything, it was all me” He went on.

“Richie, what do you…?” She starts to question him, but as she stares back at him, her words fail her, and she can only let out a soft breath.

“I just- I wanted you to know the truth, and I didn’t want to fuck up your friendship with Bill, I’m sorry for that”

“He… he wasn’t…?”

Still, she’s slowly going mute, as she drops her bag to the ground, and rummages through it for the most recent gift, the note that she’d seen Bill put into her locker.

“But I… but we… I saw…”

She knows she sounds idiotic, and she wished she’d been able to properly collect her thoughts and ask him complete questions, but she’s just so shocked.

She had been so certain that it couldn’t have been Richie.

Her hands are trembling as she opens the folded note, eyes scanning it swiftly.

“What’s it say?” Richie asks, and her eyes flicker up to his, before going back to the paper in her hands.

“It-” She starts, but her throat swells up and she chokes for a second.  “It says- um,”

Her brows are furrowing, eyes trained on the few words scrawled across the whole sheet of paper.  The writing is haphazard, but still, whoever had written it had done so perfectly, as it fit right in the center of the page.  The longer she studied it, the more she realized it just had to have been Richie.

“It says I’m- I’m so-”

“I’m so fucking in love with you,”

Richie speaks up, and she looks up from the page, staring at him with her brows knit together, and her lips parted in shock.  She’s taking in short little breaths, trying to calm her eager heart.

“That I don’t know what to do with myself” He finished, and promptly kicked his shoe against the ground.

She’s still staring at him, waiting for more of an explanation, or waiting for him to tell her he was kidding and then run off down the street.

It couldn’t have been more clear to her that he was being absolutely sincere.

“Yeah,” Richie huffs.  “Um, it really was all me”

(y/n) blinks at him, before folding up the note again, and sliding it carefully back into her bag.

“Then what about this morning?” She whispered meekly.  “And you looked at them all- talked about it with me like- like-”

“I didn’t want you to know,” Richie shrugged, and stuffed his hands into his pockets.  “That was… it was the point of it being anonymous”

“Richie…” (y/n) starts, and he braces himself, staring down at the ground, silently praying it would swallow him whole right now.  “I… I really thought it wasn’t you”

His head shoots up, because that’s not what he expected.

“What?”

“I- yeah- that first, um, note, I kinda thought that maybe you’d… you know, written it,” She says softly.  Her hands start to wring together again.  “But from the way you’d reacted to it I just thought there was no way and… it sucked”

He shakes his head in disbelief, and the action makes her crack a smile, because he looks so confused and it’s so cute and utterly Richie.

“You- you wanted it to be me?” He asks, brows deeply furrowed as he stares at her skeptically, unsurely.

She bites down on her smile as she nods her head in confirmation.

“Yeah.  Yeah of course I wanted it to be you,” She whispers.  “I just really didn’t think it could have been, especially when you went on that stake out and the flowers-”

“(y/n),” He cuts her off, stepping forward until there’s the smallest amount of space between them, and she has to tilt her head back to keep their eye contact.  “I have to know, do you have feelings for me too?”

His glasses are sliding down his nose as he stares down at her, the look in his eyes intense as they flicker in between hers, searching for any sign at all.  He needed to know if this was the single greatest mistake of his life, and he’d live the rest of his days a lonely fool-

“Richie,” She murmurs back, a slight shake in her head as her own eyes wander the features of his face, mapping out every freckle, every dip, every crease.  She’s consumed by her own love for him and he didn’t even know it yet.

She doesn’t finish her thought, because she can’t help but lean in and capture his lips.  It’s a tentative kiss, because it’s new and she’s never kissed someone that she’s liked this much before.

Her hands were slow as they lifted from her sides, and pressing lightly against his shoulders.

When she pulled away, it took a second for her to process what just happened.  Meanwhile Richie was staring at her intensely, trying to get a read on her.

She’s starting to smile, and finally her eyes flutter open.

And all at once, he doesn’t feel like this is such a catastrophic mistake.

His fingers reach up and brush against her jaw tenderly.  Her eyes are half lidded, and trained on his lips.

“Sorry,” She mumbles.  “I just wanted to-”

“I get it” Richie shakes his head, cutting her off.

His hands slid up her jaw before cupping around her cheeks, and then slammed his lips down against hers.  She didn’t even have time to take in a breath before their lips connected, and she stumbled back at first but when she threw her arms around his neck she caught her balance and kissed him back passionately.

She’d never felt such a clarity though, and she thought she was going to float right off the ground.

It was like she’d been waiting for this one amazing kiss for a long time now, and it was everything she’d hoped for and more.

Richie’s fingers slid into her hair, cradling the back of her head and pulling her impossibly closer to him, as close as he could get her without picking her up and clutching her body against his.

He was dying to do that though.

“I can’t believe it,” (y/n) mumbled in between kisses.  “I love you too,” She added, her lips moving against his before attaching again, kissing him just a bit harder.  “And I-”

“You do?” Richie pulled away, and his hands dropped back to cradle her face sweetly.

She beams at him, before nodding her head in a choppy fashion.

“Yeah,” She mumbled, smoothing her hands over his shoulders, before gliding down his arms.  “I do”

His grin matches her own, and it's hard to bite it back so that he can kiss her again. ___

It was two weeks later when (y/n) found herself placing flowers in Richie’s curls while he was passed out.

The Loser’s Club had gone to the quarry, planning to spend the whole Saturday there.  And it was the first group thing that Richie and (y/n) were officially a couple at, but they also hadn’t all hung out properly in about a month, so it was a big deal.

Mike, Stan, and Bev brought all the food and snacks they could find that would keep in coolers.

Eddie and Bill brought drinks, sodas, waters, Eddie provided juice boxes that everyone made fun of but still drank anyways.

Ben brought a bunch of blankets for everyone to sprawl out on.

That left Richie and (y/n) in charge of the alcohol for the night, which pretty much meant Richie stealing as much as he could while (y/n) kept a lookout.  They had a system of bringing a bag full of empty bottles into a store, and sneaking liquor into the bathroom to transfer it into the bottles.

It was a skill they perfected on their first try.  Maybe it wasn’t moral, or legal, but they were seventeen, and stealing from their parents just wouldn’t get them enough alcohol for all eight of them.

They’d spent the whole day doing whatever they wanted.  Which was mostly swimming and drinking at the same time, despite Stan letting everyone know he would not help them if they drowned.  But now that the sun was starting to set and everyone was dwindling down, their party turned more into a calm night.

Maybe too calm, because Richie had passed out on one of the blankets.

But he had drunk quite a lot quite fast, spent twenty minutes picking every single flower and weed-that-looked-like-a-flower in the area, proclaimed them to be beautiful but never as beautiful as his girlfriend, and then pretty much dropped dead.

(y/n) was currently using the plants he’d picked now to lay them in his hair while he slept.  She laid on her stomach by his side, admiring how pretty he was as she did so.

“Are you making me a flower crown?”

Her eyes flickered down to his, not having expected him to say anything.

“I thought you were asleep?” She hummed.

“I was, but then the strangest thing happened,” Richie said, squinting up at her.  “I felt this- this presence, like an angelic, godly presence.  And next thing I know, there you are”

“Shut up,” (y/n) giggled, poking his cheek before rifling through her pile of flowers again.  “You’re such a nerd”

“I thought you liked that” He teased.

“Of course I do,” She murmured back.  “I just also think you should be reminded”

It was quiet for a moment while she focused on threading the stem of a dandelion perfectly through one of his curls.  After she’d made it as structurally sound as she could, she grinned, and gave him her attention again.

“And it’s not a flower crown,” She told him as she rolled onto her back, staying right next to him.  “But there are, like, a shit ton of flowers in your hair.  I had to do something with all the ones you picked for me”

He could hear Stan and Eddie making fun of him, while they sat not too far away taking turns drinking juice boxes and taking shots.  But it didn’t matter.  They would always tease him and (y/n), it was normal, and he came to terms with that the very day that (y/n) told him she loved him too, and they started going out.

It simply didn’t matter anymore.  Nothing they could say could matter.

“You want a juice box?” (y/n) asked, poking his cheek again because he had clearly zoned out.  “You drank a lot and then kinda just took a nap, you need something else in your system”

He smiles at her and nods.

“Sure” He answers, and starts to get up but (y/n) gently pushes him back down.

“Don’t move, you’ll mess up your flowers” She tells him, and then gets up to get them juice boxes.

Richie’s pretty certain he’s died and somehow was lucky enough to go to heaven.  He didn’t know how he pulled it off, but that made more sense than his reality.

I’m (y/n’s) boyfriend, he thinks, and then he repeats it to himself again and again.

She collapsed next to him again not a minute later, before handing him one of the juice boxes.

“Eddie’s kinda hoarding them,” She mutters, settling her head against his upper arm, which he wrapped around her to pull her closer.  “But he also accidentally got drunk, again, so I just took them when he wasn’t looking”

Richie chuckles, sipping away on the cheap drink, still lost in his own hazy thoughts.

(y/n) looks up at him, noticing his quiet state, and sets her box down.

“What’re you thinkin’ about?” She asked softly, gazing into his eyes lovingly.

“Take a wild fuckin’ guess sweetheart,” Richie chuckled, and (y/n) rolled her eyes affectionately.  “I know, I’m a nerd”

She nods her head, and once again, pokes his cheek.  But her fingertip glides over his cheekbone and then along his jaw, tracing over his skin delicately.

“Yeah, but I love you for it”

His lips turn up into a cheesy grin, and he gives her a quick kiss that makes her cheeks flush pink.

He’s had two (amazing) weeks of watching her blush like that every time he kisses her, and it’s his new favorite thing.

“Richie,” She hums.  “I’m so fucking in love with you that I don’t know what to do with myself-”

“Ha ha,” Richie can’t help but roll his eyes while (y/n) giggles, thinking she’s so funny for repeating his own words back to him.  “You’re gonna do that all the time now aren’t you?”

“Oh yeah,” She nods her head seriously.  “All the time.  Probably every day, hell, I’ll start calling you before I go to bed to remind you”

He finishes his juice box so that he can wrap both arms around her.

“I’d be okay with that”

“Good” She mumbles back happily.

“But you know that makes you a nerd too” He tells her.

She tilts her head back to look at him, before kissing him fully, her lips lingering against his for a second after she pulls away.

“That must be why we’re so perfect together” She says with a cheeky smile.

“Yeah yeah, you cheeseball,” Richie teases, and tugs her against him.

They lay and enjoy each other’s company, and the atmosphere of their friends.

Ben’s telling Beverly about how he helped Richie write his first note, and Mike and Bill are drunk wrestling horribly in the grass.  It’s an odd mix of things to listen to while one is trying to enjoy the sunset with their significant other, but something about it still felt right.

Richie breaks the silence just as (y/n) is considering napping with him.

“You’re right”

___

taglist: @lemonypink @darling-egg​ @fiantomartell​

a/n: this was um really fun to write even tho it took me a month lmao

[artificialqueens]

who we are and who we are not [trixya] - pinkgrapefruit

There’s a hint of an ocean hidden in the back of Katya’s eyes and Trixie is so sure she’s seen it before.

*

It begins in Australia. (It begins in an idyllic neighbourhood both above and below and to the left of Trixie’s office.) She agrees to help this confused blonde with a rats’ nest of hair in a messy bun and the bags under her eyes that carry more secrets than Gretchen’s hair, and she cannot decide why. There is something uniquely compelling behind the river of her eyes, and Trixie just wants to spend the upcoming weekend sunbathing on its banks, drinking margarita slushies, and reading poetry.

[the good place au]

A/N - you should never have let me express my love of other fandoms because this au has been in the works for months and after the harry potter au response you’re all insane to think I’m not posting this. thank you to jazz and frey for being fantastic cheerleaders and grammar checkers and i really hope you like it because I do. i’m not at all sorry and you don’t really need knowledge of the good place to read this

*

There’s a hint of an ocean hidden in the back of Katya’s eyes and Trixie is so sure she’s seen it before.

*

It begins that first day, in her office.

It ends there too in due course, and then starts there again, so much harder and more painful than before because she thought she was finally over it, and because Katya.

There’s more to it than that, though. So much more.

*

It begins in Australia. (It begins in an idyllic neighbourhood both above and below and to the left of Trixie’s office.) She agrees to help this confused blonde with a rats’ nest of hair in a messy bun and the bags under her eyes that carry more secrets than Gretchen’s hair, and she cannot decide why. There is something uniquely compelling behind the river of her eyes, and Trixie just wants to spend the upcoming weekend sunbathing on its banks, drinking margarita slushies, and reading poetry.

So she agrees to help. And it starts off with just them, in Trixie’s office, when she’s pretending to be marking grad student essays praising Kant for ideas that Hume created, but instead, trying to figure out why a woman who decided she needed help, needed her. Katya says she watched her lectures ( What we owe to each other ), and when Trixie looks, really looks into her eyes, she sees hope and fear and something so deep she needs a ladder on hand before she goes any closer - and she swears she’s seen that look before -

They’re in the kitchen sat on the bench which should not be comfortable, save for the way Katya shoved all of their throws down the back of it to pad it out. They’re in the kitchen, looking at the television playing a VCR of them - in a bed.

Katya on the tape was smiling. She looked happy and in love. ‘I did that,’ Trixie thinks. ‘I made her look like that.’ And she feels a warmth pulsate behind her left ribcage.

“So, yeah, I guess… do you… I don’t know. Do you have any feeling like that for me… again… now?” She asks.

And then Trixie blinks and she is a stranger again.

It begins with the stark feeling that maybe this is the most important moment of her life.

*

Katya bullies her into asking Bob out. She’s smart, Trixie will give her that. She knows just how to trap her.

(It’s almost as if they’ve known each other for years.)

The dinner could have gone better. It’s stilted - awkward. The back and forth feels wrong and Bob - while she’s wonderful - she feels; odd. She takes too long to order and Bob snatches the menu out of her hands, and that’s how she ends up eating goats cheese. She’s a little bit allergic, but she really likes Bob. She’ll figure the rest out later.

The vase is the same blue as Katya’s eyes.

*

It’s a few weeks later and Katya has graduated from sitting in the back of class, bullying Australian undergrads for their pronunciation of Kant to making actual progress. Tangible progress that looks like tipping servers and clearing the lecture hall. And she’s talking about one student - a quiet one with good ideas and strong morals, Jasmine - maybe and -

“We’ll get some information, Hey Jan!” She calls, and this Trixie is sure of herself when she speaks, spoon full of froyo balanced on the edge of her cup.

A blonde comes out of nowhere. She’s dressed like a seventies air hostess, and even though she’s not breathing, she looks so human Trixie swears there’s a ghost of a rise in her chest.

That Katya jumps with a gasp. “Who the fork are you?” she asks like she needs to know.

“This is Jan - she’s like a database for all knowledge. You can ask her anything you want.”

“Hi,” Jan says. It’s robotic, but not inhuman, and the juxtaposition is unnerving.

“Jan… Was Violet in love with me in fifth grade?” Katya winks.

“Yasmine,” Trixie corrects breathlessly. “You could learn something from her - she’s good.”

“Yeah, but then why would I need you?” Katya jumps off the desk she’s been sat on and pads out of the hall, her flannel slung around her waist. Trixie pushes the glasses up her nose and leans her head on the cool wall for a moment. She needs a moment.

*

Katya wins eighteen thousand dollars. Monét starts dating the black sheep of West Industries. Vanessa goes to yoga for five minutes before she realises it’s not what she signed up for, but she stays for the hot ex-ballerina instructor because watching her do some of the poses means she doesn’t have to do them herself. Trixie sees the librarian and a blonde woman popping champagne and whispering in the abandoned journalism department. She leaves them to it. Life is good.

(It’s not though.)

(If there is a hell, this is it.)

Being like Katya is like teetering on the very edge of a cliff. She’s fighting not to fall forwards into the ocean blue of her eyes, but she can’t bear to fall back onto solid, safe earth either. She learns to be content with the rough-edged, precarious thing that isn’t quite love, but at the same time isn’t not, that she knows cannot last.

Eventually, she is going to fall one way or another. She will lose her either way.

She shouldn’t be thinking about her.

(She never stops)

She’s with Bob. She loves Bob. Probably-

“It’s not that I don’t love you,” she says, and Katya’s face falls and there’s a sharp ache in her chest. “I could, logistically. You’re funny, and intelligent and your face is… symmetrical.”

(Wow.)

(Symmetrical)

(They’re going to the bad place and she calls her symmetrical.)

(And she cannot save Katya, but she wants to.)

Nine months in and Bob tells her she loves her, and Trixie’s response could make E.E. Cummings cry.

“Oh, why?”

And she tells Katya the next day, who punches her arm relentlessly for fifteen minutes, all while berating her using language that would also make Cummings cry if he heard them. Katya wants her to love Bob. She doesn’t dream of the two of them walking around a lake in an idyllic neighbourhood - wrapped in blankets that smell of hope and happiness.

That’s fine. Because neither does Trixie.

“You make my head feel like a fork in the garbage disposal.”

*

She has to do it. She has to fall backwards onto the safe earth that feels like lecture hall carpet and smells like Bob’s perfume. But she can’t.

Not when every stolen moment feels so right. Not when Katya’s eyes knit together to form a patchwork blanket of hope and promise and intricacies Trixie wouldn’t be able to unravel with forever on the line. Not when Katya fit so perfectly in her arms - and Trixie doesn’t believe in soulmates-

“Hi, I’m Trixie Mattel, I’m your soulmate.” She waves, a little stilted, but the grin on her face that worms it’s way up to her eyes quicker than she thought possible discounts any fear she may have. And Jan stands there looking happy for them.

“Bring it in man.” Katya hugs her, and her flannels smell like hiking in summer sun and the feeling of dew between your toes.

(“We will find each other and we will help each other because we are soulmates”)-

Trixie cannot believe in soulmates.

(It would be dangerous, and she’s trying to avoid dangerous.)

*

It’s an awful idea.

Really terrible.

“You are very lucky I can’t send you to the Bad Idea place, because that one is a stanker.”

It’s a double date.

She’s not quite sure how that became a thing, and she’s not quite sure how it differs from the Brainy Bunch before they became the Brainy Bunch, before Monét and Vanessa, and then Brooke and Nina.

When it was just her and Katya, and she thought it was going to stay that way forever.

*

Bob picks the restaurant. She finds one of her friends who is free on Friday night as a date for Katya, who is almost as symmetrical as Katya (according to Bob, who may have used the word ‘handsome’, but it just doesn’t do her justice, does it? Like she’s some sort of ornamental flower pot, because have you ever seen a non-symmetrical flower pot. Don’t answer that, because Vanessa made Nina a very lopsided pink one for her birthday, that she uses to house Katya’s peace lily that she donated so it could actually survive - but that’s not the main focus right now). But apparently the man won’t get drunk and cause a riot like Katya might, which is fine. Trixie thinks Bob might have superpowers. It’s going to be fine.

She is totally fine that Katya is going on a date with a symmetrical man.

It’s fine -

“ You guys gotta scram, my soulmate has something planned for me.”

Her soulmate is Simon and he gets Katya all the time - not a precious few hours a week. He likes jazz operas and cowboy hats, and Trixie thinks he’s a poor fit for her, but she seems happy.

He has everything Trixie wants and sometimes it seems like he doesn’t even want it.

*

It goes south before they step foot in the restaurant.

She’s sure Bob’s friend is lovely, but he starts to talk about how he’s on this new diet where you can eat anything that’s seafood except shrimp, because shrimp is awful, and Trixie places a hand on Katya’s arm before she can leap to shrimps defence as Bob changes the subject onto something that will end with less bloodshed.

It doesn’t improve inside.

Katya, in the seat next to her, starts making an underhanded commentary about the couple across the walkway, and Trixie tries to tell her to stop, but they end up giggling like children until Bob’s foot is firmly imprinted on Trixie’s shin. Her friend looks at them like they’re insane. Maybe they are.

The waiter comes out with a cheese platter. “Hey, um, Brain,” says Katya, squinting at his ‘HI, I’M BRIAN’ name tag. Trixie’s proud of her trying, she supposes. “D’you think we could have crackers instead? Or, like, cake? Something without goat’s cheese?”

“How did you know?’ she asks her after the waiter has finished his spiel on why cake isn’t an appropriate appetizer and left (with a huffy “and it’s Brian!”) to take the orders of the couple to their right. Trixie wishes him luck, and he’s going to need it, because the couple have now progressed to full-on making out over the table, completely ignoring the waiter. Katya keeps looking over at them. There’s an odd expression on her face. In the dim light of the restaurant, she looks especially symmetrical. She can’t tear her eyes away from her, and as a result, nearly stabs herself in the nose with her fork, and – why exactly is Bob interested in her again?

(She doesn’t want to know.)

(She sort of wants to know why Katya isn’t.)

“Know what?” Katya’s voice sounds strained.

“That I can’t eat goat cheese.”

She turns away from the couple and looks at her dead-on, face crumpling into a bewildered grimace, and she feels like the air has been sucked out of his lungs. “What are you talking about, weirdo? You told me.”

She didn’t. She knows she didn’t, because most of the time he’s spent with her has been with Bob, too, and she’s been careful not to tell Bob about the goat cheese because nearly a year later it’s actually a good memory. The awkward parts have faded away. She doesn’t want to ruin it. Everything is good.

She tells her as much.

“No – dude – you were… wait… no, you’re right. Huh. Who was I thinking of?”

(Somebody else.)

(Which is really, truly fine.)

(Really.)

Unfortunately, the man on their right chooses that exact moment to say to his girlfriend “…The spaces between you and me resonate in my heart.” Katya spits out a mouthful of wine, and they’re kicked out of the restaurant by Brain – er, Brian – who must really be having a terrible night.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

They’re on the couch again. The one that looks too uncomfortable to be comfortable, but she’s never seen herself look so comfortable.

“Believe it, baby,” Katya smiles, “I’m all yours. Well, at least until something better comes along - for me. You’ve pretty much topped out.” The twinkle in Katya’s eye reminds Trixie she is lying. That Katya is hers. She shakes their intertwined fingers and relishes in the fact they do not fall apart.

*

Bob offers to drive her home, but she’s also taking her friend and Trixie’s had just about all the self-help book quotes she can take. She didn’t think she needed help to be fair. And she’s been on edge ever since he offered her dieting tips she really didn’t want.

They drive off and Katya walks over to her. Trixie doesn’t see her, but there’s that feeling; key in a lock, last answer to the Sunday crossword, book on a rainy morning - a sense of rightness.

(She clings to it more than she can admit.)

She turns to look at her.

“Well, I didn’t kill him, so I think I’d call it a win,” she quips, adjusting the way her white shirt shows the edge of her red lace bra. She’s a little drunk and it’s possible she’s being mean. But there was also the diet tip, so Trixie’s willing to compromise.

She rifles around in her purse. “Hold that,” she says, and Trixie finds her hands full of gum wrappers, loose change, a single cracker and, somehow, another bottle of wine. “How—” she starts, but Katya cuts her off.

“You really don’t want to know.”

She should chastise her. Make her give it back along with any semblance of dignity she stole from the waiter, but Trixie’s not exactly sober either, and the wine is good. Brian wouldn’t let them back in, anyway.

“Fork,” Katya curses under her breath because she’s trying not to swear as part of her good person promise to herself and - by extension - Trixie.

“What?” Trixie asks, still holding all of Katya’s rubbish.

“Taxi money.”

“What about it?”

“I don’t have any.”

“Oh.”

Trixie looks around at the orange glow of the streetlamps and the still-warm sun setting in the distance.

“Aren’t we, like, two blocks from your motel?” She asks, because she knows they are, and Katya scrunches her face up because she doesn’t.

“I took a taxi here,” she admits. “And I’m not really sure how to get home.”

She’s not sure if it’s the wine or Katya’s presence, or that she just got kicked out of an establishment for the first time in her life, or something else entirely, but there’s a laugh bubbling up inside her chest and then she’s laughing too, and soon they’re both doubled over in hysterics on the footpath.

It doesn’t bypass Trixie that that’s the first time Katya has called Australia home.

( “I’m going to miss this stupid clown house.”)

(“It’s where we fell in love.”)

*

They stumble along the warm concrete of the pavement, nearly falling over thanks to the wine and the fact they fall back into laughter every couple of steps. “I feel the absence of you reverberate in my heart,” says Katya. Trixie laughs so hard she nearly falls into the path of an oncoming car.

She just has to stop Katya from doing the kind of thing she usually does when she’s drunk: sleeping with strangers and shoplifting. Occasionally throwing things. Once she cried into her shirt for an hour because she had a photo of her grandpa on her wall.

The motel has just come into view when it starts to rain. Katya grabs her hand and pulls her towards the flickering neon VACANCIES sign. She steps in a puddle, and then they’re off again, staggering along the side of the road howling with laughter. They reach the door out of breath and soaking wet.

The receptionist gives them a strange look as they walk past.

She asks her if she wants to stay.

Of course, I’ll stay , she wants to tell her. I’d stay forever, if you wanted.

But she doesn’t, and Trixie doesn’t, and she can’t. So they watch a movie, and she leans her head on Trixie’s shoulder, and she falls asleep to the sound of rain lashing the windows and the smell of Katya’s shampoo.

*

She’s fallen.

Not the good kind. The safe kind. She knows it as soon as she wakes up fully clothed, watching the way the sun skips on the freckles along Katya’s nose. The ocean is warmer than she thought it would be, and she’s grateful that the tide seems kind. She has never looked more symmetrical.

(She does not feel kind.)

(She feels like a monster.)

*

It ends after the liquidation of the Brainy Bunch. After Max and Jan and the Peep Chilli disaster of ‘19.

It ends in the dean’s office where she gets her heart crushed and her career brought to a sudden, shuddering halt.

She looks at Katya and all she sees are dreams that are being slowly rebuilt into paper boats that hold the weight of worlds. She wishes she could be more like her.

(Wishes don’t come true.)

“I need to end things with Bob.”

Maybe wishes don’t come true. She’ll never get to have Katya for herself, she knows that, she’s made peace with it. Well, no, she hasn’t, but she’s accepted it. She can never, ever tell Katya how she feels, or kiss her, or hold her in her arms at night, but she can stay by her side, make sure she’s happy and safe for always, and that just might be enough.

It’s the easiest choice she’s ever made.

“Okay -

“…but too bad, because I need to say it, because you deserve it. Because… because…” because I love you. Because I can���t lose you. Because it’s you, and you told me you loved me and I was scared you were going to take it all back, but that doesn’t matter, you matter -

*

They kiss.

And it ends.

And it begins.

And everything is fine.

And everything is great.

[uensis]

          𝚒'𝚍  𝚋𝚎  𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚢  𝚘𝚏  𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖  ,  𝚖𝚢  𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍  ;  that  there  is  SIWON  RYU  ,  notorious  for  being  (  materialistic  )  and  (  temperamental  )  ,  but  there  are  times  when  he  can  be  (  individualistic  )  and  (  optimistic  )  .   i’ve  heard  that  he  could  pass  as  a  KIM  TAEHYUNG  doppelganger  ,  but  i  don’t  see  it  .   the  (  twenty  four  )  year - old  agender  (  witch  )  has  been  in  town  for  (  a  few  months  )  and  they  are  a  (  cashier  at  one  man’s  treasure  )  affiliated  with  (  the  blackwood  coven  )  .   they  tend  to  spark  images  of  views  from  a  water  tower  ,  tattooed  runes  and  basking  in  the  sun  .

𝐎𝐎𝐂  :  hello  !  i’m deni and i don’t know what an aesthetic is  .  i use she/her pronouns and live in the gmt+9 timezone  .   i’m terrible with ooc chats and half the time just want to vibe a connection or plot idea  ,  so please don’t hesitate to throw a half-formed thought at me because i swear i’ll do the same  .  my discord is gay fairy#6371  .  anyway  ,  here is one of my characters  ,  a chaos child i adore very very much  !  looking forward to writing with you  ♡

                                 ———      wont let go at any price.

          T  .  R  .  O  .  U  .  B  .  L  .  E  .  some folks are bound to project it out into the universe  ,  aren’t they  ?  and of course it’d come straight from a brown-eyed cutie  ,  two months into an apprenticeship with the high witch of daegu’s coven  .  started small a bit of magic here and there to ace gym class  ,  write that essay and  enchant his music to something irresistible to the ear with half the effort  .  of course siwon’s sudden transformation into a spectacular violinist and a sudden A student caught attention --- questions asked  ,  answers insufficient  .  his parents and maester weren’t happy  ,  the coven making subtle threats about an eviction if siown didn’t stop  .  he tried to make all these little problems disappear before  BANG  !  there’s cops at the door and reporters in the yard  .  the theater’s blown to bits and siwon’s left standing in the embers  .  he didn’t mean to  .  honestly  ,  he didn’t  .  just thought a little tying up loose ends before he poofed over to nowhereville would be a good idea before that tenuous hold on magic just  slipped------

          so  ,  that didn’t work out  .  that’s okay  ,  siwon’s a boy of many talents  .  he peaced out and tried his luck in sokcho  ,  moscow and tokyo --- wandered all the way around with a helping hand outstretched that just really  ,  really wouldn’t cooperate  .  little scares here  ,  some monsters there  .  siwon’s got a number out and half a dozen warrants to his name before he charms his way into the states and steals a junker of an RV for himself  .  sets out across the road  ,  trying hard --- so hard --- to stay out of trouble this time because he so doesn’t want to go to europe yet  .  he sends his loving  ( but TIRED )  parents postcards from cities and quirky museums he visits  ,  and life on the road and jumping from coven to coven was pretty rough before his RV broke down on the outskirts of watermount  .  figuring this was the universe’s way of granting him a new home  ,  siwon threw himself at a coven and struggles --- badly --- to adapt to the town’s laws  .  there’s so much to do  ,  so much to see  ,  and siwon’s terrible in the backseat  .

                                   ———    we gotta make it last.

➤  full name.  ryu si-won  ➤  date of birth.  january 29th ➤  hometown.  toronto  ,  canada ➤  gender.  agender ➤  sexual attraction.  pansexual ➤  romantic attraction.  panromantic ➤  species.  witch ➤  bonds.   i owe everything to my mentor --- a horrible person who’s probably rotting in jail somewhere  ;  i would do anything to prove myself superior to my hated rival  . ➤  flaws.   a scandal prevents me from going home again  ,  that kind of trouble seems to follow me around  ;  if there’s a plan  ,  i’ll forget it  .  if i don’t forget it  ,  i’ll ignore it  . ➤  wants.  stability  ,  power  

          home.  huntington trailer park  .  upon arrival  ,  siwon sold his RV for scraps and moved into an aluminum home outside wickery forest  .  it’s small  ,  cramped with an array of thrifted furniture and old rugs  .  the closet’s overflowing with eclectic clothes and there’s always candles and incense burning  .  the roof leaks when it rains  ,  and the porch is nothing more than a piece of plywood  .  old books and notepads sit in stacks on the floor with pots of half-grown herbs and weeds for his brews  .  his bed’s covered with pillows and fairy lights stay tacked to the walls  .   instead of doors inside  ,  he’s hung beaded curtains and there’s crystals tucked under seats and tables to encourage good energy  .

          when he’s not at home  ,  siwon’s likely to be found at the swimming hole wearing a bandana and board shorts  .  skips rocks  ,  cannonballs  ,  swings from that ratty old rope  .  collects moss and molds that grow around the docks  .  he enjoys sacred ground and lafayette cemetery for obvious reasons  .  spot him scarfing mint chocolate chip cones at the scoop no matter the time of year  ,  grabbing fried rice and egg roll take-out at the china doll  .  he loves the blue and red slushies at the corner street bodega and the vegan pizza at big slice  .  for extra cash on the side  ,  he’ll sell you some magic infused herbs behind wilson’s or the college campus  ,  where he’s taking a few classes .  at one man’s treasures  ,  siwon offers tarot readings and talismans for a fair price  ( though whether they’re accurate depends on how friendly he’s feeling )  and often spends the boring hours talking to the furniture and clothes there  .  curious --- terribly curious --- he’s preparing for a trip to the pit just to see what the fuss is about  .  makes tik-toks  .

➤  connections.  

          what luck  :  siwon’s managed to land himself in a town that doesn’t allow magic outside of sacred grounds  .  how in the hell’s he supposed to get any better  ?  luckily  ,  one man’s treasure and the trailer park don’t get many visitors  ,  so he’s able to sneak in an extra practice or two---  until one day he’s caught  .  but no magic on town grounds doesn’t mean he can’t sell his charms and talismans and brews  ,  so he has a nice set of customers who don’t mind paying under the table  .  of course that sets him up for competitors among the other witches in the community but hey  ,  dude’s gotta pay the bills  .  siwon even takes commissions from supernaturals or humans who need a little something extra --- not to mention the infused herbs he sells to college students and  . . . others that have psychedelic affects  .  for all his talents here  ,  though  ,  he shines the brightest with divination ,  and he’s demanded to give tarot and star chart readings to more than a few people  ,  paid or pro-bono  .  a messy  ,  messy trail he’s left behind has brought him into contact with a few hunters  .  we’ll see how that goes  .

          curiosity gets the best of him  ,  so he makes plans to slip into the forest and the pit for a peek at things he probably shouldn’t see  .  he runs into a few difficulties there  ,  either from others who’re just as curious or people who are hiding something  .  a ritual gone wrong brings a demon or dark energy into his life  ,  and dude he’s not sure if the one offering a cash load for witch’s blood is going to do something shady or not  .  then there’s the typical set-ups  ,  the close circle of friends he studies or hangs out at the bodega with  ,  ones who’re able to drag him out to pandemonium when he’s in a dancing mood  (  and the middle of the street isn’t cutting it for whatever reason  )  .  there’s a few hook-ups  ,  past and present because he gets to hung up on people so fast and someone who arrived to town around the same time he did -- a few months ago -- and was his neighbor at the hotel  .  there’s cops and lawpeople he’s pissed off with antics around the swimming hole and other public property  (  brewed spray paint is awfully hard to get off of metal and bricks  ,  apparently  )  .  he’s got a magical mentor and is even trying his hand at mentoring a mentee’  ,  which should be  . . . interesting  .

➤  wanted connections taken. 

          christopher cho’s monster friend  . 

[animationnut]

To Gravity Falls, From Piedmont: Chapter 19

Summary: It’s a long way until next summer. Until then, Dipper and Mabel share their daily antics and life problems with their lifelong friends and attentive great-uncles through an endless string of e-mails. Distance makes the heart grow fonder after all, and there’s no place Dipper and Mabel love more than Gravity Falls.

                                                   Chapter List

To: Dipper Pines (GhostHarasserfan); Grunkle Stan (StantheMan); Grunkle Ford (Highsixer)

From: Mabel Pines (ShootingStarRainbowUnicorn)

Subject: New Year Resolutions

Hey!

The New Year is almost upon us, and Dipper and I have planned a bash loaded with sugar and action movies. I've already got my resolutions figured out, so I totally have to know what your New Year's resolutions are going to be.

Much love,

Mabel

As Dipper carted several plastic bowls into the living room his phone beeped, indicating he had received an email. He set the dishes on the coffee table before checking the message. His eyebrows raised and he called, "Mabel, one of your New Year resolutions is to give up sugar!"

"I know!" she answered from the kitchen, over the noise of cupboard doors opening and shutting.

"Yet you just said to Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford that tonight was going to be a complete sugar fest!"

Mabel appeared, carting with her bags of potato chips, packets of gummy candies and a pitcher of Mabel Juice. "A sugar fest which is happening before the new year," she pointed out, starting to pour the snack food into the bowls readily laid out. "Once it hits midnight I'm stopping."

"I want to point out that you've never successfully completed a New Year's resolution."

Straightening at that, Mabel narrowed her eyes at her brother. "I have too! I'm great at keeping my resolutions!"

Dipper immediately raised his hand and started to tick the examples off of his fingers. "Last year you were going to finish making that house cozy. Year before that you vowed to take synchronized swimming lessons. Year before that you claimed you were going to start and finish your own web series. None of these things were accomplished."

"You've got a real nasty memory," said Mabel with the pout.

"Nasty for you, maybe," said Dipper in amusement.

"I thought synchronized swimming would be a lot more free and creative, but they wouldn't let me do my own routine."

"You wanted to include dolphins in your routine. Any sane person would have told you no."

"And that house cozy was just getting too big," she continued. "I was running out of wool and I had other crafts I needed to work on."

"On the bright side Dad has a car warmer."

"And the web series would have worked great if my lead actor would have cooperated with me."

"Ashes doesn't do anything but sleep."

Setting her hands on her hips, Mabel declared, "You're not one to talk. What about that model of the sphinx you were going to make out of building blocks?"

"You knocked it down!"

"It was an accident! It wasn't all of it, anyway. You could have started it over. And what about the research report you were going to submit to American Science Digest?"

Dipper shifted his eyes back and forth. "Uh…I ran into some obstacles…"

"Or what about the time—?"

"Okay, okay." Dipper raised his hands in a surrendering manner. "I'm a hypocrite, no surprises there. Look, it doesn't matter anyway. New Year's resolutions are hardly ever kept, anyway."

"I don't mean to break them," insisted Mabel. "I try but then it all goes kabloom. But it's going to be different this year."

"Mabel." Raising his eyes heavenward for a brief moment, Dipper retrieved the pitcher off of the table and shook it, causing drops of glitter-infused pink juice to splash over the edge. "Of all resolutions, you choose to cut out sugar. I'm telling you right now that you're not going to be able to keep it. You are ninety-five percent sugar."

"It's so hard having a brother who doesn't believe in me," lamented Mabel.

Before Dipper could respond, a dual-ping sounded, alerting them to their great-uncles' response. Mabel was typing out a response before Dipper had even wrangled his phone out of his pocket.

Mabel Pines: Hey! The New Year is almost upon us, and Dipper and I have planned a bash loaded with sugar and action movies. I've already got my resolutions figured out, so I totally have to know what your New Year's Resolutions are going to be.

Grunkle Stan: Yeah. Eat, sleep and be merry.

Grunkle Ford: Which has been the closest thing he's ever come to a New Year's resolution.

Mabel Pines: I don't think anyone is taking me seriously here.

Grunkle Ford: What makes you say that?

Mabel Pines: Dipper's picking on me.

Dipper Pines: I was making observations that you didn't particularly care for.

Grunkle Stan: What did he do this time, sweetie?

Mabel Pines: He doesn't think I can keep a resolution because I haven't succeeded in previous years.

Grunkle Stan: You're not supposed to keep New Year's resolutions.

Dipper Pines: Thank you.

Grunkle Ford: Come now, you two. Attempting to accomplish a resolution is an admirable feat, even if you didn't manage to finish it. What's your goal for next year, Mabel?

Mabel Pines: I'm going to give up sugar!

Grunkle Stan: …

Grunkle Ford: …

Dipper Pines: I really don't think any more needs to be said.

Mabel Pines: I can totally do it!

Grunkle Ford: Dear, I think you're underestimating the amount of food you consume that has sugar in it.

Mabel Pines: Well…maybe not all sugar, then.

Dipper Pines: Backpedaling already.

Grunkle Stan: Ssh.

Mabel Pines: Hey, there's nothing wrong with creating parameters! I'll give up all candy, all soda, all sugary drinks, anything that has a high percentage of sugar.

Dipper Pines: You realize that means no more Mabel Juice.

Grunkle Stan: Not that I don't have faith in you, but it seems like a tall order, pumpkin.

Mabel Pines: I don't see any of you making any resolutions. Not that you'd stick with them anyway.

Grunkle Stan: Whoa there missy.

Dipper Pines: Annnd here we go.

Grunkle Ford: I admit its been many years since I attempted to keep a New Year's resolution, but I think I have enough control to stay with it for more than an hour.

Grunkle Stan: Is that a jab at the time I gave up potato chips?

Grunkle Ford: Yes.

Dipper Pines: Which obviously lasted a pitiful hour.

Grunkle Stan: Hey, I was young and reckless. Now I'm old and reckless and competitive. I'm gonna trounce all you dorks.

Dipper Pines: There's the gauntlet.

Grunkle Ford: All right then. What's your resolution?

Grunkle Stan: To not eat vegetables.

Mabel Pines: Boo!

Grunkle Ford: Leave it to a conman to manipulate his advantage in a challenge he knows he can't win.

Grunkle Stan: I can keep any resolution.

Mabel Pines: How about you promise not to trick people out of money?

Grunkle Ford: Very good, dear. That shouldn't be a problem, right Stanley?

Grunkle Stan: No problem at all. Just as it shouldn't be a problem for you to give up all-night research sessions.

Grunkle Ford: …touché. You're on.

Dipper Pines: Am I the only normal one here?

Grunkle Stan: Don't fool yourself, kiddo.

Mabel Pines:  How about you, Dipper?

Dipper Pines: I'm not taking part in this.

Mabel Pines: You could give up going on those dumb conspiracy theory blogs.

Dipper Pines: Isn't the point to select your own resolutions?

Mabel Pines: What's wrong? Afraid you're going to lose?

Dipper Pines: Right. Consider the gauntlet accepted.

Grunkle Stan: You're all going down.

Grunkle Ford: We shall see.

Morning rays spilled through the kitchen window, creating yellow ripples across the tiled floor. Grabbing a banana for breakfast, Mabel ate it on her way out the door, leash gripped in hand as Waddles scampered ahead of her. She graciously stopped to allow excited children to pet her pig and they eventually reached town.

Mabel stopped by the post office on an errand for her mother and then went to the park. As Waddles sniffed along the grass, she paused by a white snack stand and bought a rainbow slushie. She cheerfully took the first sip, the sweet fruity flavour splashing against her taste buds.

Her eyes widened.

"Oh. No."

Shifting her eyes between the nearest trash can and her slushie, Mabel took another long slurp as she accepted her fate.

"Should have chosen something other than sugar…Dipper is going to be impossible to live with after this one."

…

Feet propped up against the arm of the couch, Dipper listened idly to the documentary playing on the television. He browsed the Internet on his phone, automatically clicking on the notification that alerted him that his favourite blog had just made an update.

"Aliens and Bigfoot; How They're Related," he read aloud. "Ooh."

He was halfway through the essay when he realized exactly what he was doing. Mabel arrived back home then, shuffling into the living room with Waddles. He stared at the slushie in her hand and she knew by the instinctual way he angled the phone away from her what he was reading.

After a beat of guilty silence, they both burst into laughter.

To: Dipper Pines (GhostHarasserfan); Grunkle Stan (StantheMan); Grunkle Ford (Highsixer)

From: Mabel Pines (ShootingStarRainbowUnicorn)

Subject: Well so much for that

Hey,

All right, so making a resolution to give up sugar was probably way too much, especially for me. I sort of forgot but then when I remembered I couldn't throw my slushie away, because that's like a crime. Then I thought about how I would have to avoid slushies for a whole year...so I kinda gave in.

Much love,

Mabel

See all messages in this thread (Expand)

Grunkle Stan: Yeah…I swindled a diner out of a free meal after complaining of a hair in my soup—the hair in question belonging to me. This may or may not have happened three hours into the new year.

Grunkle Ford: I don't have a very good concept of time. When I looked at the clock it was ten, and when I looked again it was five in the morning.

Dipper Pines: Yeah, completely forgot about my resolution. Considering it's only January the third, I think we're all pretty terrible when it comes to making resolutions.

Mabel Pines: It was a lot harder than I thought. I think I'll focus on my new resolution, which is to be a good person and try to make the world a little bit of a better place.

Grunkle Stan: How about we just elect Mabel president of the world?

Grunkle Ford: If only it were that easy.

Dipper Pines: Happy New Year, guys.

Grunkle Stan: Happy New Year, runts.

Grunkle Ford: Happy New Year, kids.

Mabel Pines: And regardless of our resolutions, let's do our best to make it a good one!

[instantdeerlover]

The NYC Dessert Delivery Guide added to Google Docs

The NYC Dessert Delivery Guide

Without friends to meet up with, it’s likely your evening confidants now mostly involve bulk quantities of chocolate peanut butter swirl ice cream. Give your bent spoon a night off, and order some dessert from one of the places on this guide. Alternatively, if you’re here to order a dessert for someone in your life - know that you’re an excellent friend and that there’s pretty much no better way to tell someone you love them without a smooch on the mouth.

All restaurants featured on The Infatuation are selected by our editorial team. The NYC Dessert Delivery Guide is presented by Uber Eats. In the midst of the coronavirus pandemic, supporting our local restaurant community has never been more important. Uber Eats customers can now give directly to the restaurants they love at checkout. 100% will go to the restaurant. Order now to support. See app for details.

   Featured In The Ultimate NYC Delivery & Takeout Guide See all our guides the spots  Brandon Jones Maman $$$$ 22 W 25th St

A quick story: the first time we ever went into Maman’s Soho location for coffee and a cookie, someone was crouching at eye-level with the cookies on display. This gesture said: “I see you, cookie, and you will be mine.” It was striking and kind of sexy. While you can’t mimic this approach in Maman’s bakery right now, you certainly should try it once their cookies arrive at your apartment. They also have DIY cookie kits available if you want to bake at home (or send someone a present).

 Patisserie Chanson Patisserie Chanson $$$$ 20 W 23rd St

Unless you’re living with a French pastry chef (if this is the case, well done), you probably won’t be able to make anything that even closely resembles the desserts at Patisserie Chanson in Flatiron. Go to their website to place your order for things like eclairs, macarons, and salted caramel kouign amanns. They deliver all over Manhattan, Brooklyn, and Queens.

 Order delivery  Ciao, Gloria $ $ $ $ Sandwiches ,  Brunch  in  Brooklyn ,  Prospect Heights $$$$ 550 Vanderbilt Ave Not

Rated

Yet

After a brief hiatus, Ciao, Gloria in Prospect Heights is back open for takeout and delivery. If you couldn’t glean from the name already, know that they specialize in Italian pastries and cookies like biscotti and amaretti, but there are plenty of brownies and full birthday cakes, too. You don’t have to tell them it’s not you’re birthday until October. Go to their website here to place your order.

Mekelburg's $ $ $ $ Bar Food ,  Sandwiches  in  Clinton Hill $$$$ 293 Grand Ave. Not

Rated

Yet

This is an official motion to substitute all greeting cards with Mekelburg’s chocolate babka instead. It will save paper, it will save friendships, it will make everyone feel extraordinarily loved. You can go to Mekelburg’s website to send someone (or yourself) this new form of greeting card. Plus, both Brooklyn locations have tons of other things to stock your fridge with, like beer, kitchen staples, and sandwiches.

Breads Bakery - Lincoln Center $ $ $ $ Cafe/Bakery  in  Upper West Side $$$$ 1890 Broadway

We don’t want to start any civil disobedience among the NYC babka-loving community, but you should also know that Breads Bakery in Union Square and Lincoln Center have cheesecake babka available for delivery and pick-up during May (in addition to all of their other pastries, cookies, and sweets).

 Contra/Wildair Contra $ $ $ $ American  in  Lower East Side $$$$ 138 Orchard St. 8.6 /10

We’re taking comfort in nostalgia right now, which explains why we’ve been re-watching Notting Hill with the intensity of someone who has been assigned an essay on it. It also explains the draw to the chocolate “dirt cups” with gummy worms on Contra/Wildair’s takeout menu. If you’re in or near lower Manhattan, you can order their desserts directly through Contrair’s website, but they’re also delivering to Brooklyn and Upper Manhattan through other online platforms.

Bien Cuit $$$$ 120 Smith St

If you’re looking for some external motivation to get through your workday, Bien Cuit’s chocolate croissants, blondies, and brownies should provide enough sugar and thrill to help out. The Cobble Hill, Midtown East, and Crown Heights locations of this excellent bakery are open for takeout and delivery. And when your boss gives you a “nice work today” message at 6pm, you can pat your belly and thank the fudgy brownie that knew you could do it all along.

 Noah Devereaux Seba Seba $$$$ 7928 37th Ave

The 37th Avenue location of this Colombian bakery in Jackson Heights recently re-opened for takeout and delivery every day from 7am to 7pm. You can order everything from whole cakes and flan to empanadas loaded with juicy beef. Just call 718-478-4691 to place your order.

Martha's Country Bakery $ $ $ $ Cafe/Bakery ,  Dessert  in  Brooklyn ,  Williamsburg $$$$ 263 Bedford Ave Not

Rated

Yet

Maybe you’ve been scanning this guide for the word CHEESECAKE. Well, here it is again: CHEESECAKE. Martha’s Country Bakery has ten varieties available for takeout and delivery (as well as a ton of other different cakes, cookies, and pastries). You can call their Bayside, Astoria, and Forest Hills locations to place your order for pick-up or delivery, and order from their Williamsburg location online here.

 Order delivery   Noah Devereaux Dek Sen $ $ $ $ Thai  in  Elmhurst $$$$ 86-08 Whitney Ave 7.8 /10

In addition to their great Thai food, Dek Sen in Elmhurst has a bunch of over-the-top desserts that will make you feel like you’re about ten years old again, and the world is simple and good. Expect lava cakes, fried bananas with fried ice cream, homemade Thai tea ice cream, and rainbow cakes with tons of thin layers. You can place your pick-up or delivery order online or by calling 718-205-5181.

 Order delivery   Emily Schindler Milk Bar Chelsea $$$$ 220 8th Ave

An idea for a Zoom birthday: have everyone order matching cakes from Milk Bar and cut out slices from opposite sides to create the illusion that you’re eating from the same one. In addition to offering takeout and delivery in NYC, Milk Bar is shipping their cakes, pies, and cookies all over the country. You can place your order online.

 Noah Devereaux Pies 'n' Thighs $ $ $ $ American ,  Southern  in  Brooklyn ,  Williamsburg $$$$ 166 S 4th St. 8.0 /10

You don’t need a reason to order yourself a slice of cherry pie. But here are two possible ones: you watched a few episodes of Mad Men where Betty makes mid-century Americana food (think meatloaf, shrimp cocktail, and jello salad) and gets jealous of her kids, or maybe you had a night terror about a monstrous cherry chasing you and you need to reclaim your relationship with the fruit. Either way, Pies ‘n’ Thighs in Williamsburg is prepared to deliver you the goods.

Comfortland $ $ $ $ American  in  Astoria $$$$ 4009 30th Ave Not

Rated

Yet

This Astoria spot has donuts, massive cinnamon rolls, and guava turnovers available for delivery and takeout weekdays from 10am to 4pm and weekends from 9am to 5pm. If you want to pair some booze with your dessert, they also have a bunch of to-go cocktails you’ll want to drink on your roof like a watermelon limeade slushie. Check their Instagram for more information.

 Kate Previte Russ & Daughters $ $ $ $ Diner ,  Bagels  in  Lower East Side $$$$ 179 E. Houston St. 8.6 /10

In case you are deeply comforted by the presence of rugelach and black and white cookies, know that the LES and Navy Yard locations of Russ & Daughters are open for carryout, and their Jewish Museum store is also online. Russ & Daughter’s also ships nationwide, in case your cousin in Austin needs some chocolate babka right now.

Sugar Sweet Sunshine $ $ $ $ Cafe/Bakery ,  Dessert  in  Lower East Side $$$$ 126 Rivington St Not

Rated

Yet

You aren’t going to be one of those people that learns how to bake beautiful cakes during quarantine, it’s simply not your style. Luckily both locations of Sugar Sweet Sunshine on the LES are delivering cakes and other pastries all over lower Manhattan. You can place your order for cupcakes, puddings (their banana one is excellent), and whole cakes online.

 Order delivery  Orwasher's Bakery $ $ $ $ Cafe/Bakery  in  Upper West Side $$$$ 308 E 78th St Not

Rated

Yet

If you’re uptown and don’t want to wait for your oven to pre-heat to eat something sweet, Orwasher’s is open on the UES and UWS. They serve Jewish pastries like rugelach and hearty black and white cookies that you could feasibly use as plates for other desserts, as well as some great almond croissants.

 Levain Bakery $ $ $ $ Cafe/Bakery  in  Upper West Side $$$$ 167 W 74th St

All of the slightly burned yet doughy cookies you’ve been making are...wonderful in their own rustic way. But, they’re not Levain cookies. If you want to get schooled in cookie anatomy (or make someone outside of NYC very happy), order a few to your apartment or ship a box nationally.

 Peter Pan Donut & Pastry Shop $ $ $ $ Cafe/Bakery ,  Dessert  in  Greenpoint $$$$ 727 Manhattan Ave Not

Rated

Yet

If you’re in Greenpoint or Williamsburg and you want something sweet and celebratory (or, if you’re reading this on behalf of someone else and want to make their day), get some excellent donuts from Peter Pan. They’re open or pick-up orders, starting at 4:30am.

via The Infatuation Feed https://www.theinfatuation.com/new-york/guides/nyc-dessert-delivery-guide Nhà hàng Hương Sen chuyên buffet hải sản cao cấp✅ Tổ chức tiệc cưới✅ Hội nghị, hội thảo✅ Tiệc lưu động✅ Sự kiện mang tầm cỡ quốc gia 52 Phố Miếu Đầm, Mễ Trì, Nam Từ Liêm, Hà Nội http://huongsen.vn/ 0904988999 http://huongsen.vn/to-chuc-tiec-hoi-nghi/ https://trello.com/userhuongsen

Created May 9, 2020 at 12:50AM /huong sen View Google Doc Nhà hàng Hương Sen chuyên buffet hải sản cao cấp✅ Tổ chức tiệc cưới✅ Hội nghị, hội thảo✅ Tiệc lưu động✅ Sự kiện mang tầm cỡ quốc gia 52 Phố Miếu Đầm, Mễ Trì, Nam Từ Liêm, Hà Nội http://huongsen.vn/ 0904988999 http://huongsen.vn/to-chuc-tiec-hoi-nghi/ https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1xa6sRugRZk4MDSyctcqusGYBv1lXYkrF