#just. guh. a year and a half on T and I get it takes a while/I may never ‘pass’ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

forlove2020 · 4 years ago

Text

Suptober Day 4 - Secrets

Dean is bed-warm and bleary-eyed, but it's not too much of a problem because cooking seems to be one of those things that comes to him naturally, like breathing or reloading his gun. He can do all of these with his eyes closed, which, in this case is pretty handy as his eyes are mostly closed this morning.

He's still barely awake as he beats the buttermilk into the eggs, adding flour, baking powder, sugar, oil, salt. The first of two frying pans gets hot fast, and Dean places the bacon down, enjoying the crackling sound of meat becoming crispy.

His life depends on remembering to turn on the coffee pot, and he is sure to double check and see if it has begun brewing before he moves on to ladling the batter into the pan.

This is the time of day Dean likes best: the slow, quiet mornings in the dim sunlight of his own kitchen where he can finally just breathe. The years of misery and grief had worn him down, but as the saying goes, coal makes diamonds, and since there was so much damn coal in his life before, he is now one fine diamond.

Or, anyhow, something along those lines. Dean's too tired for frickin' metaphors right now, okay?

The clatter of dog paws on wooden flooring makes Dean smile. Miracle has awoken and joined him in the kitchen; she is eyeing Dean expectantly, sniffing at the bacon-scented air with hopefulness.

"Hey there, girl," Dean murmurs quietly, so as not to wake the other occupants of the household. She wags as she greets him and he pats her head fondly. Never once, in all of the years preceding had Dean ever considered adopting a dog but now he knows that Miracle, in his unbiased opinion, is definitely a cut above the rest of those flea-bitten mongrels.

Fine, so maybe he is a little biased but Dean still believes he has the best dog in the world.

Miracle lies on the floor at his feet as he finishes cooking breakfast, she sleepily watches him flip pancakes but her cute little ears perk with interest as he places a couple slices of bacon on each of the three glass plates.

Dean darts a quick look down the hallway that leads toward the staircase, then glances at the backdoor to make sure it is still locked. He can't hear anyone stirring upstairs, so he raises his eyebrow at Miracle, who leaps to her feet with all the stealthy grace of an apex predator. She is ready and waiting for what has become their morning ritual.

Dean tosses her a piece of crisp bacon, and Miracle snaps it up mid-air, her body wriggling with glee as she wolfs it down.

"Remember, this is our secret, ma'am," he murmurs, giving her a gentle scritch behind the ears. Her tail thu-thumps on the floor, and Dean grins.

Light footsteps fall on the creaking stairs, and Dean sticks his hands behind his back like a naughty child caught misbehaving.

Jack is wearing one of Sam's old t-shirts and it's so comically big on him that it seems almost more of a nightgown. He's rubbing his eyes as he stumbles into the kitchen, but his smile is as bright as ever as he goes immediately to hug Dean.

There are many good things in this world that Dean doesn't believe he deserves, and Jack's forgiveness and love is pretty much the top of that list. But Dean's really making an effort to treat him better now and god, if the kid doesn't deserve every last good thing in this world. Jack had offered Dean a fresh start when he came back from Heaven; it was a second chance to make things right between them and Dean had taken the offer with no hesitation. He would rather throw himself into the Pit headfirst than hurt Jack again. Dean knows he can't erase the past but he sure as Hell can do whatever it takes to make things up to his kid.

He presses a kiss to the top of Jack's head; he smells like sleepy sweat and that expensive lemony shampoo Sam had sent him for his fourth birthday. "Sleep okay?"

Jack nods, and yawns. "No nightmares last night, so that was nice." He breaks their hug to pet Miracle, who fawns over him.

"Good," Dean says firmly. "Maybe that spell Sammy used actually can help." Jack nods, but doesn't answer, still attempting to wake up. He reaches for the coffee pot.

"Hey," Dean scolds gently, and Jack pauses, confused. "Wait until I pour your Dad a mug first."

A wry smile comes to Jack's face. They've both seen what happens on mornings where Cas doesn't get hot coffee and Dean and Jack have a silent agreement to avoid the circumstances causing those events at all costs.

"Help yourself to some pancakes," Dean pops half a slice of bacon into his mouth and continues talking while chewing, "Me n’ Cas will eat later. I'm gonna take Sunshine his elixir of life first."

Jack chuckles while Dean pours a very full cup of black coffee into an ugly, handmade pea-green mug, and carefully climbs the staircase he made with his own two hands over the past summer.

Their bedroom is upstairs and on the left in this little house that Dean built. He nudges the door he'd partially left open with his foot, maneuvering cautiously around the dresser and the clothes that were tossed onto the floor last night.

Cas is asleep, more or less, when Dean sits down beside him and places the coffee mug on the bedside table. He mumbles something that Dean can't quite understand, either because he is drowsy or because he may be speaking Enochian. It’s hard to tell with his face half-pressed into the pillow.

Dean lets his fingers drift up Cas’ shoulder and neck and then brushes his hair away from his face. He's going to have a bad case of bedhead when he gets up, Dean thinks with amusement.

"Wake up, Sweetheart," Dean tells him. "There's coffee."

Cas' breathes out slowly, his nose scrunches up, and then he's waking, shifting under the covers, squinting at Dean in the early morning light sneaking through the blinds.

"Heya, Cas." Dean is ridiculously in love with him. The confused look Cas gets when he first wakes up makes Dean think about crazy things, like saying 'screw the world' and crawling back into bed and burrowing under the covers with him. These are things that a younger, sadder Dean Winchester had never known and never would have believed he could have, ten, fifteen - hell, even just two years ago.

(Today's Dean Winchester is a much happier man.)

Cas stares deep in Dean's eyes as he half sits up, rumbling out the familiar, "Hello Dean," and moves closer to kiss Dean good-morning very thoroughly.

After a long minute Cas pulls back, breathless, and asks, "Wait, what did you just say about coffee?"

Still gathering his wits, Dean gestures vaguely to the steaming mug, and Cas turns back to him with a faint smile. "Have I mentioned that I love you, Dean?"

"Guh...not, uh, yet today," he manages to stutter out and Cas smirks as he raises the mug to take his first sip.

They go downstairs together, both so they can eat breakfast and so that Cas can get a refill, and in the process, they catch Jack in the act of handing Miracle a piece of bacon and a chunk of pancake.

Everyone freezes in a domestic tableau; the hunter, the angel, the nephilim-god, and the world's best dog.

Cas recovers first, and sighs. "You know, he gets this from you," he accuses Dean dryly, and goes straight over to refill his coffee mug.

"Traitor," Dean tells a wagging Miracle.

She isn't ashamed in the slightest.

END

#suptober21 #destiel #destiel fic #their love is real #dean and cas are in love #dean and cas are Jack's parents #dean and cas deserved BETTER #dean and cas deserved a happy ending #they all deserved to be happy #castiel is jack's father #jack deserved to be happy #found family #domesticity #miracle the dog #post-15x20 #post finale #fix it fic

67 notes · View notes

nblesbianbenhanscom · 4 years ago

Note

43+45 for kaspbroughzier or streddie

anon! hello! a million years later, and your fic is ready! are you even still here? i hope so ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

i had to go with the kasproughzier cause i love those goofs and also sonia is the perfect no, really you don’t want to meet my family.

the prompts were ‘trust me, you don’t want to meet my family’ + ‘you may technically be an adult, but you are still my child.’

***

read it on ao3

Little Dashes of Doom

“Eh-Eddie, your phone is r-ringing,” Bill says. It’s the tenth time in the last half hour.

“Just turn it off, Bill. I’m not going to answer it.” Eddie doesn’t look up from his computer.

“Buh-But it’s your ma.”

“I know, Bill. I already told her when I was coming home. She can chill.” He sounds tired, and Bill just wants to wrap him up in a blanket and make him relax between him and Richie. This semester had really kicked all of their asses.

Bill watches the phone as it stops ringing. It dings a moment later with a voicemail. Bill picks it up and turns it off. He kisses Eddie’s hair as he sits it on the table next to him.

“H-How’s the puh-aper coming?” Bill asks as he opens up the fridge. Bill himself had just finished his own last final just a few hours before.

“I hate fucking Shakespeare,” Eddie growls.

“Th-That good, eh?”

Eddie doesn't respond while Bill looks through the fridge. He finds a beer and heads to the couch where Richie is playing on their shared Switch. His legs are spread awkwardly, one up and over the back of the couch, the other hanging down by the floor. Bill sits in between his legs, pulling Richie’s leg into his lap.

“Hey, babycakes, you ok?” Richie asks without looking up.

“I’m ok.” Bill takes a sip of his beer. “You ok?”

“Yeah, fine. Why wouldn’t I be? Shit! I just fucking died!” He sighs and lets the Switch fall to his chest. “What are we doing for food?”

“We have l-leftover p-pizza,” Bill says.

Groaning, Richie sits up and tugs himself closer to Bill with his legs. He leans close and kisses Bill’s neck.

“I am so tired of pizza.” Richie scrapes his teeth against Bill’s chin. “Maybe I’ll just have you for dinner. How does that sound?” They giggle and Eddie huffs from the kitchen.

“Ugh, rude of you to start without me,” Eddie grouses, but there’s no real heat to his words.

Bill and Richie giggle again.

“S-Sorry, E-Eddie!”

“We were just discussing dinner.” Richie kisses Bill’s neck again.

Giggling, Bill pushes him away. “Shhh… St-Stop.”

Richie just pulls him closer and they giggle again.

“If I fail my final, it will be all your faults!” Eddie yells.

“Wh-What d-do you want for d-dinner?” Bill asks.

Eddie is silent for a minute. “Surprise me.”

Bill turns and kisses Richie. “We’re guh–nna go p-pick up dinner.”

“We are?” Richie asks. Bill nods. He holds his hand out and Richie takes it. They go to the door, tug on their coats and boots. It’s cold outside, but Bill just holds tightly to Richie’s hand.

“Where to, Big B?” Richie asks after they’ve climbed in the car.

Bill shrugs. “I don’t care.” He thinks for a minute. “Wh-Where do you—”

“I already told you what I wanted.” Richie winks.

Leaning back against the passenger seat headrest, Bill smiles at him. “Ok, b-but like a-actual food, Richie.”

“Ugh, you’re no fun,” Richie says. They talk for a few more minutes and end up going to the local diner. They get pancakes, fries, salad, and pie. Sometimes Eddie has trouble eating when he’s stressed, and they want to make sure to get him something he’ll eat.

When they get back, Eddie’s computer and his books are in a neat stack. The bathroom door is closed and they can hear him screaming at someone.

“I am working on my finals, mommy!” Eddie screams. Richie and Bill hesitate in the doorway. They look at each other but creep in. It’s been a while since Eddie had gone off like this. When they’d first met him a few years back, he’d yelled a lot more. Richie liked to tease that he was a feral chihuahua until Eddie’d absolutely lost it and tried to beat Richie up. It hadn’t gone well; Richie was so much taller than him and he had just pulled him into a hug, apologies sliding off his tongue. He promised to never do it again. After that, there were less and less explosions until there were none.

“No! No! You listen! I’m doing my work. I’ll be home in three days. Three! You have my–” Eddie pauses. “Please, would you just–”

Richie puts the food on the table and Bill clears away Eddie’s school work.

“God damnit, mom! They are not my roommates, they are my boyfriends. We have been over and over–” Another pause. “Well maybe I won’t come home then!” There’s another pause followed by a loud banging sound and then Eddie begins to sob.

Bill and Richie look at each other as they sit there listening to Eddie cry and yell at himself. Bill can’t quite make out everything he’s saying, but he knows it’s not good. He hears things like pussy, and coward, and little bitch. Things that he’d been told his whole life. Things Bill had thought he’d worked through.

Bill had apparently been wrong.

“I’m gonna go get him,” Richie says, and gets up. Bill catches his hand, and shakes his head. They sigh.

“Wuh–ne m-more m-minute.” He swallows hard. Richie sits back down slowly. Bill hates this just as much as Richie, but he doesn’t want to push Eddie too hard.

Slowly, Eddie’s sobs lessen. Bill wants to get up and go to him, but still he hesitates. Richie leans into his space and rests his head on Bill’s shoulder.

“Can we go get him now?” Richie asks.

Bill licks his lips. He’s about to say yes when they hear the bathroom door open, and Eddie sees them as soon as he looks up.

“Oh,” he says softly. His eyes are red and puffy. He swallows hard several times. “I-I–” And then tears fill his eyes, and his face crumbles, and Richie and Bill go to him, pull him close and let him cling to them as he cries.

“It’s ok, Eddie, we’ve got you,” Richie murmurs into his hair. “We’ve got you.”

“L-Let it out, b-baby,” Bill whispers.

Eddie’s fingers dig into Bill’s shirt as he sobs. His whole body is shaking and Bill wishes he could find Sonia Kaspbrak and give her a piece of his mind, but he tries to push these thoughts away as he kisses Eddie’s hair.

They sit on the couch, and it takes a long time for Eddie to calm down. Even after he’s stopped crying, he still clings to them. He whines when Richie pulls away.

“I’ll be back, my love, just going to get you some water,” Richie says as Eddie grips his shirt hem.

“But I–” Eddie’s hoarse, and Bill can’t help but feel sorry for him.

“I-It w-will help,” Bill says. He reaches out and pulls Eddie’s hand free. “It will help.” Slowly, Eddie lets go and lets Bill lace their fingers together. He leans back into Bill and closes his eyes.

After Eddie drinks his water, he looks around at them with heavy sad eyes. He’s cradled between them, both of them pushing into his space.

“I’m–I’m sorry,” Eddie says.

“What for, love?” Richie asks. He strokes Eddie’s hair, kisses his temple.

“Because I–Because I’m such a freaking mess,” Eddie whispers.

“Yo-You’re n-not a m-mess.” Bill kisses Eddie behind his ear and Eddie’s eyelashes flutter a little.

“Your mom is a fucking cunt,” Richie says.

Bill frowns at him. Eddie usually freaks whenever someone says something bad about his mom.

“Yeah, she is,” Eddie says.

Bill and Richie make shocked noises. Bill squeezes him.

“I’m just so tired of her. She’s...” His voice waivers and takes a deep breath. “I have to use the bathroom.” Eddie gives them each a kiss before he gets up.

Once the door is closed, Richie looks at Bill, scowling.

“What the fuck is that bitch’s problem?” Richie growls.

“I d-don’t kn-know.” Bill sighs. He scoots closer to Richie. “I h-hate her so much. It’s been s-such a l-long t-time si-since–”

“Yeah, he’s been doing so good.” Richie huffs. “I just wish I could meet that bitch just one time so I could–”

“Trust me, you don’t want to meet my mom,” Eddie says. Richie and Bill jump, neither of them had heard the toilet flush. “C’mon. I’m hungry.”

Sharing glances, Richie and Bill get up and follow Eddie into the kitchen. He’s sitting at the table, pulling the food out of the bag and frowns at the fries.

“Aww, fuck, they’re cold.” Eddie’s lip trembles a little. “I’m sorry. I should have waited to call. I just finished my final and I–”

“N-No, b-baby. It’s ok. Th-The fries w–ill heat up,” Bill says.

“Yeah,” Richie agrees. “That’s why God invented microwaves, right?” He picks up the container and throws it in, pushing buttons quickly. “See? It’s fine.”

Sniffling, Eddie wrinkles his nose. “Nuked fries taste so gross.”

“I think we got some cheese and Ranch. That will help.” Richie goes to the fridge as Eddie looks at the rest of the food and looks up at Bill.

“You two are the best, do you know that?” Eddie asks. Richie kisses his hair as he wraps his arms around Eddie’s shoulders.

“N-No you,” Bill says.

Wrapping his fingers around Richie’s forearms, Eddie kisses his inner arm. “I love you both so much.”

“We love you, too.” Richie pulls away as the microwave beeps.

After they eat, they curl up on the couch to watch TV. They’re all crossed limbs and elbows in stomachs and pulled hair, but they don’t really care. Eddie just lets the others hold him close, pet his hair, kiss him.

“Are you doing better?” Richie asks after a bit. Eddie shrugs.

“Wh-What happened?” Bill asks.

Eddie shrugs again. “Just the usual. I finished my paper like right after you left, so I decided to call her before she called the police like she did that one time, and she said since I was done with my finals that I needed to come home right away. When I said I want to stay with you two, that my ticket is nonrefundable or exchangeable, she said she didn’t care about the cost, that she’d pay and…” He sighs. “She just wouldn’t listen. She kept saying, ‘You may be an adult, but you’re still my child.’” He huffs. “I’ve been financially independent from that old bag for over a year. She has no right to say shit like that to me any more.”

“N-No, she doesn’t,” Bill agrees.

“Honestly, she never should have talked to you that way, ever,” Richie says. Eddie leans a little closer to him. He plays with the strings on Bill’s hoodie.

“I know,” Eddie whispers.

Bill can hardly believe what he’s hearing. His heart fills with pride and he pulls Eddie’s legs into his lap and cups Eddie’s face in his hands before kissing him so, so gently. When they pull apart, Bill pushes his forehead into Eddie’s forehead.

“L-Love you,” Bill whispers. When he pulls back, Richie presses his own kiss into Eddie’s temple.

“You know, you don’t have to go,” Richie says. “You can come home with us.”

“O-Or we c-could go wi-with you,” Bill says.

Eddie shakes his head. “It will be ok.”

Sighing, Richie shakes his head, no. “You shouldn’t have to deal with her alone. Let us come with you.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” Eddie murmurs.

“Y-You d–idn’t. We’re t-telling you. We’re coming wi–th you,” Bill says. Richie smiles at Bill.

“You really don’t–”

“Eds, you may as well give it up. We’re coming with you, and if your mom can’t deal, well, fuck her, and we’ll leave early.” Richie pauses. “In fact, plan on it. We’ll all have to change our tickets, call our families, but we’ll split up the break evenly. It will be fun.”

“We can’t afford that!” Eddie protests.

“Y-Yes we c-can! I just got p-paid for th–at piece I wrote a why-while back,” Bill says.

“No, Bill, you were going to use that for a new computer!” Eddie says.

“I’ll j-just st-steal yours.” Bill strokes his arm.

“You’re ridiculous,” Eddie murmurs, but there’s a small smile on my face. He sighs and leans into Richie. “You guys are the best, do you know that?”

“N-No, you.” Bill laces their fingers together.

“Yeah, spaghetti, you’re the best.” Richie kisses his hair.

Eddie closes his eyes, and settles back.

“We d-don’t have to m-make any d-decisions tonight,” Bill says. “W-We can t-talk t-tomorrow.”

“Ok,” Eddie says. He sighs again and sits up. “You guys wanna do something?”

“Like what?” Richie asks.

“Play Mario Kart?”

“Only if you don't cry when I kick your butt!" Richie says as he pulls himself free and gets up to set up the Switch. Eddie scoots around and leans into Bill's side.

"Yeah, we'll see who cries, Tozier!" Eddie teases.

Bill knows it is a toss-up between the two; they are both really good. It's Bill that's going to be the loser, but he doesn't really care. He's terrible at video games, but he loves being with his boyfriends.

He sits there listening to them argue about who is the worst player and waits to be handed a controller. He loves listening to them bicker like this, and he knows Eddie bickering is a good sign. Licking his lips, Bill leans into Eddie, eyes closed for a moment.

"You ok, Bill?" Eddie asks as Richie's attention falters. He's fighting with the cords and cursing under his breath.

"Yeah, I'm good." Bill takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Love you so much."

Eddie squeezes his hand. "Love you."

"Got it!" Richie says triumphantly. He tosses a couple of controllers at them and sits near the TV. "You two losers ready?"

"Shut up, buttmunch," Eddie says. "Get ready to eat my dust!"

"Bring it!" Richie says.

Bill struggles with his controller and gets settled. He knows the next couple of weeks are going to be hard. Eddie had agreed tonight that they would change their winter break plans, but that doesn't mean that it isn't going to be a struggle. He knows Eddie wants to break free, but Bill knows it isn’t easy; Sonia has a firm grip on her son.

Bill is not looking forward to the back and forth that is inevitably coming, but he decides there is no point in worrying about that now. Right now, Eddie is happy, Eddie is safe, and the three of them are going to have a good night. Tomorrow is future Bill’s problem, and tonight all he has to worry about is not driving the wrong way on the track. He knows everything will be ok.

#kaspbroughzier #bill denbrough #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #it #it chapter 2 #i love these losers so much #i'm sorry it took so long #life got hectic #then i took a writing break #i hope you like it.#Anonymous

29 notes · View notes

snezfics-n-shit · 5 years ago

Note

it's only been two days and i'm already missing whumptober 😔i am craving sneezefucker phoenix so like... if you're interested 👀

Anon I love you and also of course I’m interested :3

Your wish shall be granted under the cut.

Phoenix drummed the table with his fingers. He knew Miles wanted to make this a particularly special dinner, being their first night out since Phoenix had earned his badge back, but Miles was taking so long to arrive that Phoenix wondered if there was a mix-up in how the couple interpreted the reservation time.

The hostess took him to his table fine enough, so Phoenix knew he wasn’t the one who had misinterpreted the time. Why didn’t he and Miles just take the car and arrive together? Phoenix sighed through his nose and checked his phone, pleased to see Miles at least sent him an update.

Going to be late, love. Just left my last errand; on my way now. Sincerely, Miles Edgeworth.

The timestamp was a minute ago, which meant, depending on distance and traffic, Miles could be at the restaurant anywhere from five minutes to a half hour.

Phoenix took another sip of the sparkling grape juice he thought was in a far too expensive glass for a nonalcoholic beverage. It wasn’t that he couldn’t have ordered wine, which would have been more appropriate; he didn’t even drive, anyway. He just had a hunch that if Miles were to keep him waiting for long, he’d find himself absentmindedly sipping to the point of being inebriated before Miles even arrived.

He knew well enough it wasn’t polite to stare, but Phoenix found his eyes wandering, imagining what conversations the other elegantly dressed diners could be having. It may not have been the most mature thing to do, but it passed the time.

Was that... Winston Payne and his wife? So it was true Payne’s wife was quite the catch, like an older version of the models Larry would attract somehow. Phoenix ducked his head as soon as Mrs. Payne turned her head in his direction.

“HrnxXT... gh.” The sound of a stifled sneeze perked Phoenix’s ears enough for him to look up.

“Hey, what took you so long?” Phoenix should’ve known the instant he felt his face heat up at the sight of a map of pink on Miles’s face, most prevalent under his eyes, just barely visible behind his glasses. Of course, if Phoenix wasn’t, well, Phoenix, he’d know from the large bouquet Miles was barely hiding behind his back. “Babe, you shouldn’t have.” Miles really shouldn’t have, for both the obvious reason and the fact they were in public.

“Do you like theb?” Miles’s smile contrasting with the clearly irritated features of his face made Phoenix want to stare for a longer time than what would be comfortable. He placed the bouquet carefully in the vase the restaurant had provided for romantic gestures such as this. “Flowers have a whole ladguage, I’ve heard. The florist said... saihhh-- HH’RnnXT!! HhNNXTT... guh. Excuse be. She said this bouquet was perfect for todight.” He sat across from Phoenix, almost giving him a show as he sniffed.

“Uuhh-huh,” was all Phoenix could coax out of his mouth. He anxiously fumbled his hands inside his suit jacket pocket. When Miles helped him pick out his new suit for work, a set of handkerchiefs accompanied the purchase, so at least one of them resided in each pocket Phoenix owned. He normally wouldn’t dare offer one for a purpose other than wiping lingering raindrops off Miles’s glasses, but tissue boxes were not exactly a common find at such an elegant establishment. Without another word, he presented the square of soft cloth with both hands, thinking how he could just die right here.

“Oh, thagk you, sweetheart.” Miles had to use some force to pry the handkerchief from Phoenix’s tight grip. He was just barely in time to use it for an extended stifling effort. “HhrrNNKTT! HnnXTT! HnggXXT!! HggKXTT... gh.” There was a wet quality that could be heard each time he pinched his nose.

Phoenix would have focused on eye contact with Miles if it weren’t for those glistening allergic tears making his face almost as damp as the handkerchief against his nose. Oh god, he was rubbing his eyes with his thumb and index finger.

“W-What do you want to order, hon?” Phoenix choked on his words. Miles was doing this to him on purpose, wasn’t he? The prosecutor may have been the type to show his affection with gifts from time to time, but Phoenix would eat his hat if this was merely a romantic gesture. “Um, bless you, by the way.”

“Oh, I’m hardly done.” Miles laughed, again going right for Phoenix’s racing heart. “There’s a lobster dish made especially for couples to share, if you’re interested.”

“I’m very interested!” Phoenix slapped his hand to his mouth and cleared his throat. “In the lobster dish, I mean.” He heard that light wet sniffle that served as a warning another fit was on its way.

“Just a moment, love.” Miles held the handkerchief slightly farther away, giving Phoenix full view of his twitching pre-sneeze expression. “HiigGXTT! HigkXNTT! HrgxxNTT... kh.”

“I don’t think, um,” Phoenix swallowed, “stifling like that is good for you.”

“Look at where we are.” Miles used both hands to hold the handkerchief when blowing his nose into it. He had to know he was driving Phoenix wild.

Why wouldn’t he look at where they were?

“Oh, uh, the server’s coming to our table!” Phoenix frantically waved his hand to let the server know he and Miles were ready, desperately needing to take his mind off everything Miles was doing to him.

“Are you alright, sir?” The server’s voice was gentle enough on Phoenix’s ears to distract him from his mind’s broken record of Miles’s recent stifles.

“I’m fine, ma’am!” Phoenix blurted out. If he looked anything like how he felt right now, he was sure someone ought to have called an ambulance by now.

“I mean your date.” She smiled.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Miles shrugged. “Just hay fever.”

He said that. He really said that. Yup, Phoenix was definitely going to die here.

The server glanced over at the full vase and made a face without saying anything. She proceeded to take the couple’s order, periodically blessing Miles after every single sneeze interrupting his inquiries on various wines. When she left, Phoenix let out a heavy sigh of relief.

“Why didn’t you take anything, babe? If you really wanted to give me flowers, you could have taken some precautions.” Phoenix avoided saying anything that would make him even more flustered than he was now. Had he already crossed the threshold of merely being flustered? Most likely, yes.

“I was under the impression we would be drinking tonight.” Miles gently dabbed his eyes with one of the few dry corners of the handkerchief. “Antihistamines greatly lower my alcohol tolerance.”

“I thought that was just you being a lightweight.” Phoenix laughed nervously.

“Tonight is very special, after all. Why not celebrate?”

“Yeah, I guess it is.” Phoenix finished off his grape juice so as to not make a waste before the wine would be delivered. “Our first date since I got my badge back. It means so much to me that you’ve been such a great help, to both me and Trucy all these years.” Phoenix caressed Miles’s hands from across the table. “Thank you so much.”

“I think it could be--” Phoenix’s grip tightened as he watched Miles’s expression change, preventing Miles from pulling away for another stifle. “Sweetheart, I need t-to... HH’RRSHHOOOH! HU’RRSHCHOO! H’RRSSHOO!!”

Phoenix was so caught up in his fascination that it hardly dawned on him how quiet his surroundings became after Miles sneezed. Luck was in his favor when he only came back to the moment once the diners shrugged off the noise and returned to their own conversations.

“I hate to say it, but that felt a lot better.” Miles blew his nose again. Did he always get this pink when his allergies were acting up for this long? That shade of pink was taking up a rank in Phoenix’s favorite colors.

The stellar customer service advertised in the online reviews was evident with the quick arrival of both the wine and meal. Other than Phoenix’s quick glance at the server to thank her, he couldn’t keep his eyes off Miles.

He had every opportunity to steal an extra bite each time he saw Miles hopelessly, furiously rubbing under his nose, but he abstained. He thought back to Miles teasing him for being in a similar situation when the two visited Phoenix’s mother, whose family of cats seemed to grow every time they visited her. Of course, the comments Miles made then were mostly regarding the irony of Phoenix’s circumstances rather than the temptation to steal the last slice of Mrs. Wright’s homemade pumpkin pie.

Phoenix felt a pleasurable tingling in his mouth that forced him to smile as he swallowed some wine, not losing eye contact with Miles for even a moment.

“Phoenix Wright.” Miles using his full name grabbed Phoenix’s full attention to bring him to his senses. “I think I’ve had you on the edge of your seat long enough.”

What was this about? He was messing with him after all, wasn’t he?

“You think?” Phoenix’s voice cracked.

Miles smirked and stood up. He sent Phoenix’s heart out of his chest by leaning forward, face first into the bouquet, looking for something inside. So he meant Phoenix on the edge of his seat just waiting to keel over?

“Ah here it is.” Miles looked up, even more pink and dripping, no, streaming than before. He slid his hand in and out of the vase, making a fist. Whatever he was holding was small enough for him to use the same hand to pinch his nose. “HhgkKXT! HihgxXNTT!!” He let go of his nose and presented his elbow with the duty of muffling his sneezes. “Oh, I cad’t do this ady lohger. HuURSSHHOOOH! Hr’RRSSHOO!”

“Oh my god.” Phoenix at last allowed himself to say something. He watched Miles crouch down on one knee. “Oh my god.”

Miles smirked; his timing was perfect, as he planned. He prepared himself, nose and all, for what he was so eager to say.

“It’s been an honor, no, a blessing to be your boyfriend.” He waited for the pun to register with Phoenix before he opened his hand to reveal a ring resting on his palm. “Would you further bless me by being my husband?”

Phoenix felt weightless as he took the ring. He knew he was going to accept; why wouldn’t he? In all but legal documents, he and Miles had been essentially married since Phoenix moved in with him eight years ago. But what would he say? Was a simple ‘yes’ too easy? Then it hit him that Miles was going for something here.

In that case,

“Bless you, hon.”

#Anonymous #sneezing #snez #snz #sneeze kink #snez attorney #My writing #my fics

46 notes · View notes

kafka-ish · 5 years ago

Text

sleep-over | b.d.

it’s been years since bill denbrough’s been to an actual sleepover. but when someone invites him over for the night, he can’t seem to pass up the opportunity to join them.

word count: 3,313

warnings/included: fluff, fem!reader

request: (from anonymous) “hiii could i please request a bill denbrough fic? you can decide what it’s about but just lots of fluff and something really cute”

a/n: repost bc my tumblr tags didn’t work on the last one and i didn’t realize until now,, also based off of this song

“Do you...do you want to come over?” y/n asked. Those were the first words to spill from her mouth when she dialed Bill’s phone at twelve-o-one a.m. She didn’t have to look out her window to know it was late because of the darkness that engulfed her room, but she also knew she had Bill wrapped around her finger and he’d do anything for her if she asked.

“Luh-like a ss-sleepover?” Bill’s shoulder was pressing his phone to his ear as he paced back and forth in his room. He looked out his window to see nothing. Just a dark abyss that beckoned for him, the same way y/n did from over the phone.

“Yeah. Like a sleepover.” y/n thought back to the multiple sleepovers she and he had before when they were younger.

When dusk ate the day and it got too late, Bill would stay the night at the y/l/n’s house. Her mother would have y/n’s brother keep an eye on the two of them because god knows what would happen if the two were left alone (even at an early age).

“Loser has to fit five marshmallows in their mouth,” y/n declared as she was setting up Candyland. She already had dibs on the purple gingerbread man so Bill supposed he’d just have to play as yellow.

“Oh-oh-okay.” A wide smile formed on a young Bill Denbrough’s mouth and his chest moved in sync with the guffaws he was trying to contain. “B-b-but I don’t think your...your mouth is that big.”

y/n’s grin matched his and Bill had gotten cocky that night because he had found y/n’s gingerbread man crossing the rainbow finish line before his and he could only hold three of the Jumbo Jet-Puffs in his mouth.

“I’ll b-be ri-right over.” Bill had unintentionally slammed the receiver back on the dial pad. He had never been so fast to pack up in his entire life, but he also didn’t take much; just a fresh pair of boxers, a change of basketball shorts, a t-shirt similar to the one he was wearing, and his toothbrush. It had been forever ago since he and a friend like Stan or Mike spent the night at each other’s houses. It had been a lifetime ago since he spent the night at y/n’s house.

He walked—no—ran out the door, almost forgetting his shoes in the process (which he slipped on without socks). His duffle bag was light on his arm and threatened to slip off more than once if Bill hadn’t been careful. He made it to y/n’s house in record’s time, but he also lived four blocks away.

Bill waited outside of y/n’s door. His fingers fought with each other and he noticed that the green porch light was still on.

“What are you doing?” y/n called down from above. She could freely yell into the earth’s crisp air because the neighborhood was asleep, and she didn’t have to worry about her brother who was sleeping in one of the dorms Duke University provided.

“I didn’t know if I should knock or not,” Bill answered honestly. He knew y/n was rolling her eyes at his response whether he could see her face clearly or not. He could hear her loud footsteps—rushed and enthusiastic—from inside the house as she trampled down the stairs to let him in.

“Hi!” She looked up at him wide-eyed and bushy-tailed because Bill stood tall and lean while y/n was like a dainty sprig—fragile and still waiting for spring to bloom—at least compared to him.

A smile couldn’t help but draw itself on Bill’s face when she greeted him. She was dressed in a white tank top and cotton sleep shorts and it was in that moment when Bill realized how much she’d grown. How much they’d all grown.

“Are you ready?” y/n eyed him curiously because it’d been seconds since she said anything and Bill had yet to reply.

“Ye-yeah,” Bill said. He stepped in. “Where?” Gulp. “Where should I puh-puh-put this?” He held up the seemingly empty duffle and y/n took it from him only to toss it aside next to the potted plant that greeted guests as they walked in.

“We can come back for it later. Now come on.” She was dragging him back outside. “I need an adventure!” She locked the door behind them with her golden house key she had turned into a necklace by feeding a length of black lace through the middle hole. She wore that thing everywhere she went.

“Ad-adventure?” One of Bill’s untrimmed eyebrows raised and y/n nodded as soon as the word left his mouth. “I th-th-hought this was a s-sl-sleepover.”

y/n giggled. Her small hand only covered a third of his as she grabbed it and led him from her front lawn and across the street. “Who actually sleeps at a sleepover?”

That was true. As he recalled, the last time he ‘slept over’ at Richie Tozier’s house, neither of them had actually closed their eyes.

Bill hadn’t noticed he was now in front and y/n stood a few paces behind him until he felt the warmth of her hand leave his. She was taking the time to light the cigarette she had balanced between her bottom and top lip. Bill chuckled softly at the sight behind him. She was a sight for sore eyes.

He stepped back to meet her figure whose nimble fingers were concentrating on flicking the purple BIC at hand.

“Nuh-need help?” Bill took the lighter from her and it came to life with one swift move of his thumb.

“Yo-you know s-s-s-smoking is... Once you start, you cuh-can’t s-s-s-top.” Bill said this as if her were a father, telling his child about the dangers of drug usage. But he still lit the stick that was poking from y/n’s pouting lips.

She took a drag from the cigarette. It was long and she coughed afterward because she hated the taste. Bill could tell she wasn’t an experienced smoker and that this had probably been her second pack. “I’m already addicted,” she said. The cigarette muffled her words. But it wasn’t the nicotine she was addicted to. She was addicted to fitting in.

Bill shook his head which he’d inadvertently thrown back while he was consumed in laughter. “You guh-guh-got an-hother one?” He asked and y/n reached in the elastic of her waistband to grab a pack of Mavericks (a gift from Bev). The box was full except for one and she had also stashed a twenty-dollar bill in the gaping space between the tobacco sticks.

“I didn’t take you for a smoker,” y/n said while tossing him a smoke.

“Fuh-first time for eh-everything.” Bill shrugged and lit the end like a natural. It wasn’t his first time, he just said that to make y/n feel better.

The two walked in comfortable silence. y/n was still trailing behind, but only to admire Bill’s frame under the white moonlight—not to enjoy her barely smoked cigarette because maybe she wanted pink lungs until she was old and wrinkled and had to have be waited on hand and foot at the nursing home.

It took them ten minutes to arrive at a worn-down gas station and it would’ve taken them five if y/n wasn’t lollygagging or if Bill didn’t stop to point at the stars every three seconds.

“Lo-ook at that one!” He’d say with the innocence of a child. His sneakers would make a scraping sound against the abandoned road when he came to a halt and y/n would bump into his shoulder because she never looked where she was going.

“It kind of looks like the mole on the back of your-“ Bill nudged her, causing her to wobble and drop the Maverick. It was one with nature now. Good riddance.

Bill put out his own half-smoked cigarette in the ashtray that sat on top of the garbage can next to the glass doors of the QwikTrip.

It was bright inside. Too bright. The empty gas station felt completely different from when they were slumming it in the outside and dancing to the sound of crickets chirping.

But y/n didn’t notice. She was too busy in her own world, mixing together a cherry and coke flavored slushie to make cherry coke. She watched in childlike wonder at the contents inside the slushie machine that whirled ‘round and ‘round so the ice could mix thoroughly with the syrup (a slushie with an imperfect ice-to-syrup ratio was not a slushie; it was just flavored ice). She didn’t notice the guy working the cash register who was obviously checking her out.

But Bill did.

An odd feeling struck at his heart which was now beating faster as he watched the greasy boy about their age eye his childhood friend.

“H-have you ever dr-dr-“ Bill paused. “Had alcohol?” Bill wondered aloud. y/n had just finished preparing Bill’s slushie for him—plain banana—so her attention could now focus on just him. Internally, Bill was banging his head against the wall for asking such a stupid question. But that’s what y/n made him in recent developments: stupid.

Every teenager drinks he thought to himself. But y/n wasn’t like every teenager.

“No.” y/n shook her head and Bill found his eyes roaming to the liquor case in the back of the store.

They both knew what each other meant and Bill just about dashed to the fridge the same way he dashed out his door when y/n called him that night.

y/n was waiting for him at the paying counter. She took small sips at her cherry coke slushie but luckily Bill didn’t take too long. He came back, holding a clear bottle of liquid that y/n didn’t know the name of. He set the glass on the counter and reached in his pocket only for his heart to fall twelve meters into its grave because he left his wallet at home.

“Don’t worry about it,” y/n reassured. Her hand settled on his momentarily. “I’ll get it. Just wait outside.”

So he did. But waiting outside nearly killed him.

“These please.” y/n gave the stranger her biggest smile, teeth and all, as she pushed the bottle of gin and two slushie cups across the counter for him to scan.

“Was that your boyfriend?” The cashier asked. His face could be mistaken for a pepperoni pizza and his blonde hair was uncombed. The graveyard shift really does some things to people.

“No...” y/n blushed and the stranger thought it was because she found him attractive. It was actually the idea that other people thought of Bill and her as a couple that caused y/n’s cheeks to tint. y/n looked up at the boy through her long lashes and it should be counted as a crime to not know the effect you have on the people around you.

A sly smile reached all the way to the boy’s eyes. “You know what? It’s on me.” He printed out her receipt. There were just three items marked as $0.00. The only numbers that added up to something were the ones on the bottom which he said was his phone number. “Call me.” He winked.

Bill felt like he was being stabbed all from watching the two flirt and before another invisible knife could make another incision in his already delicate heart, y/n was out the door. Two diabetes-filled cups occupied both hands while a plastic bag hung from her arm.

“Hi!” She said this in the same way she greeted him.

Bill covered his mouth when he coughed before sputtering out a hi.

She sat down on the curb outside of the gas station, her legs crossed like a pretzel. She sat both cups down, taking a sip from both straws. Her tropical-flavored chapstick tainted his red straw and Bill would taste pineapple mixed with banana later when he took a sip.

y/n’s mouth tingled at the taste of banana slushie. Who the hell gets a banana slushie? She supposed she’d never get used to the taste, but it was worth a try.

Bill took a seat on the rough pavement next to her. He knew his ass would hurt once he got up, especially if they would sit like this for a while, but he didn’t care.

“D-d-do you want… muh-muh-maybe wuh-want to g-g-go somewhere no… nobody will see?” Bill asked tentatively.

y/n smiled with the plastic still between her teeth. It was a more pleasant feeling than rolled-up tobacco. “Who would even see us here?”

Bill laughed but he thought back to how the cashier was eyeing her while she fixed her slushie. It wasn’t the same way he’d look at her. It was slimy and gross. But that was behind them now as he slipped an arm around her and held her close.

His shirt was old and worn, but it felt soft and homey against the skin of her cheek. She nuzzled close into his chest, feeling his ribcage and smelling the Old Spice that lingered from when he applied it earlier in the afternoon.

She hadn’t been this close since their last sleepover.

They were thirteen and y/n had originally invited him over to watch High Society on the new television set her parents bought and finally got around to setting up in the den. She promised she wouldn’t get jealous if he stared at Grace Kelly because he’d tell her the same about Gregory Peck. But Bill didn’t get the chance to stare because the ribbon was detached from the VHS, ruining their whole plans.

Bill wouldn’t have stared anyway—not when there was someone worth staring at who sat on the couch next to him.

“I’m so sorry.” It must’ve been the tenth time she apologized but Bill only waved his hand like how he wished he could wave the rest of her worries away. “I didn’t know it was all screwy... It’s been years since I’ve actually put the damn thing in.”

“Don-don’t-t worry ab-b-bout it,” Bill said. He glanced up at the clock on the mantle. It was getting late and the beginning of a sunset could now be seen from outside the living room window.

“You should be getting home.” y/n was looking at the clock with him. Bill shook his head.

“Ih-it’s ff-fine.” He shoved a handful of popcorn that y/n popped herself in his mouth. “Do-do you h-h-have an eh-eh-extra toothbrush? O-o-or I cuh-cuh-could leave early.”

y/n knew what he was referring to and a smile graced her already angelic lips. She was getting excited just at the thought of having a companion by her side during the witching hour. y/n jumped to her feet and skipped over to Bill on her bare feet. “What will you sleep in?... I could offer you my nightgown!” She laughed at the image in her head which projected a picture of a scrawny Bill Denbrough wearing one of y/n’s frilly nightdresses even she didn’t wear anymore.

“I cuh-cuh-can ju-just sleep in th-th-this.” He shrugged and y/n could only think that boys were strange.

By the time both of them had brushed their teeth, Bill was already tuckered out. Maybe it was from watching y/n mess with the VHS player for so long. Or maybe it was from running over to y/n’s house when she had excitedly announced her parents set up a new television set and she wanted him to be the first one over to experience it and his legs were still tired from carrying him.

“Do you want to watch a different movie? I’d hate to invite you over just to not do anything.” y/n picked at her fingernails, too afraid to meet Bill’s eye because she was scared he hated her.

Bill could never hate her.

“Nah.” Bill spread out on her double bed that she had made prior. He sunk into the plush covers and felt himself doze off until y/n hit him with a pillow.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She was hovering over him, scared that she’d fall and break her neck if she lost balance.

“Sl-sleeping.” Bill closed his eyes once more. “I’m kuh-kuh-kinda t-t-tired.”

“Move over.” y/n wasn’t tired, but she’d do whatever Bill wanted. She laid down next to him and there couldn’t possibly be enough room on the bed for both of them—at least with the way Bill was spread out.

She snuggled close to him, able to smell the toothpaste he used and the natural smell of vanilla that clung to his skin.

But right now, Bill didn’t want the night to end as they sat three years older and in an empty parking lot. If BIll had one wish, he’d wish this night would last forever. Just him and her and the space surrounding them.

y/n’s eyelids felt heavy and her legs felt gelatin-like. She fell into a dreamlike trance while Bill’s arm acted as a blanket around her, but she didn’t want the night to end like this.

“Ar-are you t-t-tired?” Bill asked. y/n could feel his arm remove itself from her and she visibly shivered.

“No,” she lied but he knew better than that.

“I’ll wuh-wuh-walk you h-home.”

Their trek back to y/n’s house was slower than it was when they left it. y/n didn’t mind. She basked in the presence of Bill’s calming aura and Bill felt the same. Both of them, however, were too afraid to tell each other that.

y/n could barely keep herself stood upright on her own. Bill had to stabilize her with his left hand. His right hand was gently figuring out a way to remove the key necklace that hung from her neck.

“That tickles!” y/n giggled loudly when the icy tips of his fingers brushed her sensitive skin.

“Shh,” Bill whisper shouted. “Th-there are puh-puh-people sleeping.” He looked at the time on his digital watch. Not for long, anyway.

“Shh,” y/n echoed back to him.

The front door creaked open. Bill cringed and hoped it wouldn’t wake her parents, but y/n told him it shouldn’t matter because they were heavy sleepers. He trusted her.

When both of them stepped in, y/n was the one to shut the door just like she had when they left. Afterward, they tip-toed up the stairs. Bill clutched his duffle bag and y/n still had the plastic one which contained the alcohol.

“Fuck...” y/n giggled at the curse word that left her lips. “Marry, or kill.”

“What’re m-my options?” Bill slurred. He was too scared to look up at her, so he looked at the dark ceiling. He was sprawled out on her bed—taking up most of the room—like he did when they were thirteen.

“Me, Beverly, and...” y/n sighed. She forgot the name of the girl who sat in front of her in math class. “Henrietta Simons.”

“Huh-who’s Henrietta?” Bill asked, but he already knew his answer.

“Someone you should kill.” y/n shrugged and stared at the ceiling with him, trying to find out what was so interesting about it.

“Kuh-kill Henrietta,” Bill said, and a proud smile found its way on y/n’s lips. “Fuck-ck Bev, an-” He didn’t really have to finish after that.

“You wouldn’t have sex with me?” y/n asked. She was only teasing but Bill knew she wouldn't have said that if she was sober.

“It-it’s not luh-luh-like th-that.” Bill took a deep breath and he didn’t know if this was the night he wanted to be saying all of this but that’s what everything felt like it was leading up to. “I guh-guess I ju-just want t-to marry you.” Bill closed his eyes at the drunken words that thought would be okay to leave his mouth.

“I wanna marry you too,” y/n said through a series of hiccups and a fit of laughter.

They both knew what was coming next. And even though neither of them didn’t want the night to end, it had to.

#it 2017 #it 2019 #it chapter 1 #it chapter 2 #it x reader #it imagine #it fanfic #it fic #losers x reader #losers club x reader #bill denbrough #bill denbrough x reader #bill denbrough x reader fluff #bill denbrough imagine #bill denbrough fanfic #bill denbrough fanfiction #bill denbrough fluff #bill denbrough fic

115 notes · View notes

purplesurveys · 5 years ago

Text

817

Does it make you nervous when someone does something dangerous showing off? If it’s something supposed to be taken seriously, like an athlete doing a risky ice skating spin, then I’d be nervous in that I don’t want them to fail. But if it’s someone doing something rather foolish like doing a moonsault off a roof or putting out a candle with their bare fingers, the mischievous side of me will silently half-wish something goes wrong haha. Have you ever had to take a pee test? You mean a urinalysis? Yeah. Angela’s doctor mom suspected I had UTI a few weeks ago so she had written up a recommendation for me to take a ‘pee test,’ as you put it. Have you ever had to supply someone with clean pee? I mean, I did for the aforementioned urinalysis lol. And what do you mean by clean pee? How is that different from dirty pee? Lmao Are you a bit of a nerd? Guh, I loved calling myself this is a teenager...because...y’know...I was a teenager and wanted to sound cool and ~not like the other girls~ lol but I was definitely trying too hard at the time. I don’t consider myself a nerd now and I don’t think I ever was. Are you in charge of cleaning anything in your household? Just my own dishes for the most part, but that’s it.

Are you good at HTML? At one point I was, because it was once a common practice on Tumblr to customize your themes, add your own pages, and basically just mix up your blog. I dunno if normal Tumblr still does this haha but if I tried to do this today I’d be rusty for sure. Ever carved/written anything on a park bench? Nope. I always feel like I’d get caught. Most interesting place you've ever visited? I’d say Shanghai was the most interesting mostly because it was SO incredibly first-world and the whole place was just so modern, so technologically forward and the experience was so jarring considering the dumpsite I live in. It was very daunting seeing all the bright lights, people dressing up so well, luxury shops on every corner, and how rich their nightlife was. Have you ever had anything tailored? Yes, my lola knows how to do that so whenever I need my clothes adjusted I’d just ask her to do it. Fan of Walton Ford artwork? Ever even heard of him? Nope, haven’t heard of him. Do you keep your eyebrows more thick or thin? I never get my eyebrows done; I don’t find it necessary. They’re naturally on the thick side, but from years of trichotillomania and plucking my left eyebrows, the hair eventually never 100% came back and the end of that eyebrow has juuuust a bit of a bald patch on it. It’s only noticeable for those who know about my trich, but still. What color is your bedroom door? It’s brown, but the bottom part sports a lot of chipped-off paint due to my dog scratching on it to get in and out of my room for the last twelve years. Do you value your personal space, or do you hate being alone? I value both since I tend to need either at different points. Have you ever been hunting? Never. Your take on one-night stands? Are they okay? You do you, and it’s definitely okay. It’s just not my thing. Do you always wear a bra? Not when I’m at home. I for sure haven’t worn one in a while due to the pandemic forcing me to stay home, but I did wear a bra when I went to the hospital a couple of weeks ago. Felt so weird lol. Do you have a wrist watch? No. I always lose them under my watch (hehe) so I just stopped wearing them altogether so that I don’t keep wasting my parents’ money :/ Do you usually jog or go for walks? I’ll sometimes go for walks, but for leisure. I don’t think of them as workouts at all. Could you be happier? Yeah, I think this is how most of us, if not all of us, feel.

Don't you just love aerial views? Like...from airplanes? Yessss, I love them a lot. When my dad books flights for us I always call dibs on a window seat as I never get tired of seeing cities and towns from the sky. Do you own a pair of Dr. Martins? As far as I know it’s Martens, and no I don’t. I’ve always thought they were too chunky for my liking. Do you like wine? Hate it, I never liked its bitter taste. My girlfriend and some of my aunts love wine though so sometimes I’ll have a glass or two and pretend to like it so I can spend time with them haha. Do you scrapbook? Nope. We do have scrapbooks at home, but it was my mom who made all of them for mine and my siblings’ baby photos. Have you ever been told not to do something you desperately wanted to do? Of course. ^ did you listen? Not always. Why are the angry birds so mad at the pigs? ...I don’t care. I never played the game actually. Would you feel bad about breaking up with a kid on his birthday? Kid sounds weird in this sentence lol, and yeah I’d say that’s a pretty shitty thing to do. There are 365 days in a year and unless my significant other has been an abusive shithead, I’d pick a date other than their birthday to break up with them. Have you ever sung anyone the happy birthday song? On their birthday, I guess...? How many followers do you have on Twitter? At the moment, 722. Do you like Hello Kitty? Not really. Have you ever won on one of those grabber machine things? Not that I can recall. My sister has always been the one better at those than me, she wins something every time. Though there was one time I was at the arcade and was just fucking around with the claw machines until I saw a kimono-wearing Hello Kitty left behind in one of them; I figured someone won it but didn’t want it, so I gleefully took it and gave it to my sister who’s super into Hello Kitty AND anything Japanese haha. Is there an actual word for those? I call it the claw machine. Have you seen the movie Remember Me? I never have but I remember wanting to because Robert Pattinson is in it, heh. Do you like thunderstorms? Love them. I can see myself living somewhere where it rains all year round. Have you ever been horseback-riding? I’ve ridden a horse before but I don’t think it counts as horseback-riding? It was part of the itinerary on one of our trips to Tagaytay nearly a decade ago, and a skilled rider was maneuvering the horse for me. I was like 12 and didn’t know any better, but today I absolutely wouldn’t take part in some tourist attraction thing that would use and tire out animals. Have you ever seen your naked back? I’ve had to turn around and look at it in the mirror a few times because I have scoliosis and I had wanted to see the point where my back starts to curve. Are you gonna French kiss your hubby at your wedding? Noooooo. I hate doing PDA myself so I’ll likely be sheepish at my own wedding actually, considering the fact that I wanna invite like 400 people lol. Do you think girls generally look better with their natural hair color? I don’t base attractiveness off of hair color, so I don’t really care. Who is the last person you held hands with? Gabie. Was ages ago though. Would you agree that wedding cake is so much better than any other cake? (: I mean, wedding cake isn’t even a type of cake lol. I think cheesecake is the superior cake, though. Do you feel awkward with strangers in elevators? Not at all. It’s a lot more awkward if I know the person but am not close with them or don’t know them all that well, so then I’d have to spend the next few seconds figuring out if I wanna make small talk or just ignore them altogether. Do you cuss excessively when you're upset? I can cuss excessively regardless of my mood. I don’t do it as much as I did when I was a teenager, but my potty mouth will still slip out every now and then. Would you rather cheat and tell your other about it or be cheated on? Eugh, this is an awful question. Can we just go with no cheating? Do you own a pair of shorts that could be mistaken for underwear? I don’t think so. Have you ever felt free after losing something once important to you? Yeah, I was recently reading my old survey answers from 2015 when my breakup was fresh, and apparently I was a super happy camper who felt free as fuck when Gab and I had broken things off so I guess that’s one example lol. Have you ever been to a rave? Nope, no raves for me. How many bananas have you ever eaten in a row? I’ve only eaten a whole banana once my whole life and that was a few weeks ago when I had a fever. Mom said it’ll be good for my body so I was made to eat one for breakfast. It wasn’t all that bad, but it will still take a whole lot for me to have to eat another banana. Have you ever felt like you can burn the world down? I’ve never been that angry before, no. Can you read/speak in any language(s) other than English? Yuh, Filipino is my first language.

Have you ever had sex outside? I’ve had it outside but we were still hidden, like inside a car lol if that still counts. Have you ever been outside naked? ^ Same situation. Do you like guys with long, brown, shaggy, flippy hair? If it looks majestically taken care of, yep. Do you have a beauty mark? I don’t. Have you ever been in a shrubbery maze? No. I’ve been terrified of them ever since watching The Shining, and I don’t think I’ll ever be up to entering one since I hate getting lost. Do you think you're the best thing that's happened to someone? I dunno. I don’t really need this big of a validation, so it’s genuinely fine if no one thinks of me in this way. Is the best thing that's ever happened to you a person? Yes, but also a dog. What's your boyfriend's style, or what style tends to attract you? I’ve observed that Gab jumps from one style to another. Some days she’ll dress like a sophisticated aunt and wear nice flowy dresses, other days she’ll opt to look a bit tomboyish and wear a graphic or tie-dye t-shirt and jeans. Do you know anyone who works in a cafe? Yeah, my cousin Bia. How many songs do you think you know all of the lyrics do? Hundreds is a safe guess. Do you enjoy jazz or blues music? I enjoy both, but I like jazz a tad bit more.

What's the most emotionally painful thing you've ever been through? Finding out about Nacho. My grandpa’s death hurt as hell too, but back then I had no choice but to harden up and force myself to be ok and focus because I had an insanely important college entrance exam coming up five days after his passing, and I couldn’t afford to get distracted. With the news of Nacho, I was doing nothing that night and I was completely vulnerable when it hit me. How many band t-shirts do you own that are black? I only have one band t-shirt, and it’s black. Can you make a clover shape with your tongue? Nope. Would you agree that Beck is a musical genius? (: Beyoncé lost to him for Album of the Year at the Grammys for her 2013 album which she highkey should’ve won, so he’s kinda on my shitlist for that looooool Do you ever feel like the main people in your life don't know you at all? No. I wear my heart on my sleeve for the most part, so I don’t have to worry about that. Do you like Ben Folds? I’ve never heard of him. Do you watch The Voice? Nope. Do you have a protective father? To an extent. He hates catcallers and always tells me to tell him if there are any around when we’re out so he can beat them up. He’s not crazy protective to the point of being possessive or overly strict though. Have you ever worn a headdress? Just for school productions when we would represent cultures that have headdresses.

Last thing that caused you to get sick? A UTI. What's the biggest misconception about you, personally? It annoys me to no goddamn end when people say or assume that I’m fake. It’s called being polite and civil even around people I don’t like which I’m pretty sure is more mature than fake, dude. Have you ever seriously thought you loved someone without telling them? No. Are you squeamish? About certain things. I hate watching clips of people having their bones break or get dislocated, people passing out, too much blood, among other stuff.

#survey #surveys

7 notes · View notes

fandomfluffandfuck · 2 years ago

Note

He's being such a fucking tease, like you're in a mesh top but you've got a black t shirt underneath? Illegal. And I'm thinking of Chris trying to tease Sebastian who leaves him an overstimulated, denied mess. Like with dom bottom Seb and sub vers Chris. Seb uses Chris as his personal dildo and then puts a cockring on him with vibrating plug up his ass?

related to the new GQ shoot

also, you'd probably enjoy this earlier ask I answered

Such 👏🏻 a 👏🏻 tease 👏🏻

(Horny) Jail for Chris Evans. (Horny) Jail for 1,000 years.

Sebastian is pretty fucking sure he's never sweat more than he is right now. He's worked out hard--packed on bulk and muscle for roles and shed pounds like crazy for roles--he's sat in saunas for what felt like years, but he's never sweat like he is right now. He's never felt his heart pound the way it is right now. He's never breathed so hard. Even so, he wouldn't change a goddamn thing. Because sweat might be rolling down his back and he might be fever hot, wholly out of breath, but he's also never felt so fucking worked up in his whole fucking life.

Sex with Chris is great. It always is. Even half-assed and not-really-intense sex is incredible. Sparks still fly between them. But when it's whole-assed and really-really-intense sex--

Guh.

It's a whole 'nother world.

Sebastian isn't just on a different planet right now, though. He's not just been blasted off to Jupiter. No. He's in a whole different fucking galaxy. He's spinning without gravity to pin him down, shaking, and strung out. And every gasping breath is a punched out sound of, "ah, ah, ah!" He can't stay quiet. He can't even pretend. This hits so hard.

Fuck me.

Pleasure sparks up his spine from low, low, low in his gut. Tightly knotted and molten. It feels so good.

This feels so good.

He hadn't fucking believed his eyes when Chris came home, stripped off his coat and had been wearing that.

He was just at a photoshoot! And they, they put him in--

God.

They put him in a fucking mesh shirt.

What the fuck?

Who did that?

And why did no one think to warn Sebastian?

Chris had simply playfully patted his chest, laughing off his brain-fried reaction, drawling, "don't worry baby, they didn't get to see nothin', I had this shirt on under it the whole time." He pulled at a black shirt, one practically screaming for help, its seams pulled much too tight. It looked painted on. As did that fucking mesh shirt. A sleeveless mesh shirt. Because. Fuck. Somebody at that photoshoot had it out for Sebastian.

Sebastian still half thinks somebody's trying to kill him, having it out for him bad, and he's still half convinced that this isn't real.

How could this be real?

Chris had asked him, "really? You don't think it looks kinda... dumb? Like, 90s vest in a bad way?"

No.

It's not fucking dumb.

It's not dumb unless you count the decision to put a t-shirt under the mesh! What's the point of the mesh then?

Sebastisn made him take off the shirts, then put just one back on. Just the mesh. It's white, and it stands out starkly against Chris' dark tattoos and his staining blush. The pretty pink color starts on his handsome face and seeps all the way down past his beard, over his throat, and onto his round chest--spilling beyond his pecs, all the way to his clenching stomach. Sebastian isn't the only one molten hot. Chris is feverish underneath him. He's sweating. He's glistening under that fucking mesh. His pentant necklace is heaving up and down, pulled astray from the middle of his chest, between his tits, to one side. It catches the light in their room, just like the slickness pooling over his skin. It's enough to make Sebastian even crazier, as feral as he already is bouncing on Chris' cock, in his lap, his hands planted on Chris' chest. He's got handfuls of his tits, steadying himself with every move he makes, taking his cock deep, angling himself to fuck against his prostate again and again and again.

Ah, ah, ah!

His hands curl tighter on Chris' chest with all the pleasure. His toes curl. His thighs shake. He's cum once already. But he's not done. He hasn't had his fill yet.

He wants to grab and pull and take, but that fucking mesh shirt is too tight. There's no slack. Nothing to hold onto. Still, it makes him drool. The way it clings to Chris. The way it looks over the shape of his body. Hugging his tits and his waist while remaining soft enough to let the hard points of his nipples be seen.

"S-Seb!" Chris whines, his hands shaking nearly as bad as Sebastian's own thighs.

Sebastian moans in response to his name on those lips, grinding down harder. He wants Chris deeper.

There's nothing as fucking satisfying as feeling Chris in his guts, reranging them, as using Chris so well that he feels him right up against his prostate and the back of his throat at the same time, hardly able to breath, leaving his eyes blurring with hot, prickling tears, clenching so tight around him that he can feel him throb, the brutal thundering of his heart--

Clenching so tight around the thickness of him, the heaviness of him, filling him up, that he can feel--

"Gah!" Sebastian groans, a full-body shiver taking over him for a moment.

He can feel the cock ring he put around Chris right at his clenching, fluttering, hungry rim.

He can feel the control--the power he has over Chris. The power Chris lets him have. Chris walks out into the world--Chris lets hoards of fans see him, drool over him, lust over him, but Sebastian is the only one Chris lets have him, fuck him, use him.

Sebastian is using him.

Chris looks like the worst, most delicious kind of toy--dressed up, slutted up. And Sebastian is going to use him as such. Sebastian is using him as such. Now. Right now. On top of him, in his lap, writhing, moaning, sitting on his cock, sitting on his bound cock because Sebastian is using him. Using him for pleasure. Using him for his hard, thick cock. Using him as his own pornography. Nothing more, nothing less.

He needs Chris to stay heavy and hard and throbbing. For as long as he wants. He needs it. And he's making it happen with the cock ring and the plug he slid into Chris' tight ass, rumbling with just enough vibration to feel it shooting through his veins like hot electricity, going to his head, but not enough vibration to make him orgasm through the ring.

It's perfect torture.

Perfect for Sebastian.

"Ah! Seb!" Chris tries again. His hands successfully tighten on his hips for a moment, just long enough for him to slam him down hard, deep on his cock and keep him there for a delicious second. But he loses it nearly immediately. Too worn down for any fine motor control.

His agonized voice, his unraveling. It's so good for Sebastian.

"Baby, baby, oh, God, babyy," he moans.

Sebastian moans, too, staring at the open gape of Chris' swollen, slick lips. Red and hot and plush. He looks so hot. His mouth looks so hot. Sebastian wouldn't, couldn't get off his dick if he tried, but he also wants in that mouth. He wants to feel how wet and hot and tight it is and he wants to feel the desperate pitch of his voice on his cock. Vibrations on his dick. God. He wants it.

"Baby, you g-gotta let me, oh, oh, you gotta let me cum! Seb! Please!"

Music to Sebastian's ears. Jesus Christ.

"Please! Baby 'm dyin', I'm, 'm, ohh, fuck, please!" His hips jerk up hard. His head pushes back against the bed, arching his flushed, sweat-slick throat. Holy shit, yeah, Sebastian wants in that.

He wants.

But he can't fucking stop this.

It's so good. God. His cock is so good. He could live on it. He could live just like this. Chris delicious and squirming and begging underneath him. Eyes lidded heavily, barely focused, barely looking at Sebastian with how gone he is. Chris doesn't even have to be tied down! He wants Sebastian to feel good. He wants to be used for Sebastian's pleasure.

Sebastian wants more pleasure. Just a little more. He can't help how greedy he's become. Chris gives it to him so good! It's not his fault! Even when he's not giving. Even when he's just lying back like he is now, letting it happen. It's. so. good.

His cock is so swollen from being kept in the unforgiving ring and it keeps twitching inside Sebastian. How could Sebastian possibly pass this up?

"Ohmygod, oh, oh, fuck, Seb--" Chris' voice is tight, and he bears his teeth, gritting them almost as if he's in pain. But Sebastian doesn't blame him. He can't. How can he when he can't think?

Sebastian's too busy letting out a stupid loud moan of his own, shivers on the outside working their way in. Inside. Leaving him quivering, shaking, and milking Chris' cock as he cums for a second time. This time, he doesn't have a hand around himself. He doesn't catch any of his cum in his hand, smearing it back down his shaft as lube, extra slippery and wet and messy, preventing a mess on Chris' mesh shirt. This time it just paints him. Making a goddamn mess over the mesh shirt, the ink below it, and his skin.

Sebastian heaves in a breath, still whited-out.

Oh, God.

It feels so good. Still.

He's so sensitive.

He can hardly take it.

Ah!

He squirms, drawing tiny figure eights with his hips, sitting heavy on Chris' still hard, still throbbing dick. Ahhh! His eyes flutter shut.

"Baby," Chris sounds like he's about to lose his voice. All gravel and rough and low. Sebastian shivers uncontrollably, his senses fading back in as he comes down. As most of him comes down...

He's still hard.

Half-hard.

But... almost ready to go again.

And he knows the moment Chris knows it, "babyyy!" he pleads. Frustration thick in his voice.

Good.

He looks so good.

He feels so good.

He's being so good.

Sebastian only smirks, breathless, all mischievous kitten like. He narrows his eyes at Chris. What? What're you gonna do? He challenges wordlessly underneath the sound of their panting, his heartbeat in his ears, and the muffled vibrations coming from inside Chris. Easily picking up the remote, locating it in the ruined, completely rumbled sheets, Sebastian turns the vibrations up.

"OH!" Chris hips buck up, almost throwing Sebastian off of him. But Sebastian is faster now that he's gotten some of his brain power back after the release of an orgasm that he so, so badly needed. He presses Chris arms back into the bed over his head, fingers encircling his wrists, putting them chest to chest. Lips to lips. Almost kissing. But not quite. Lust is thick in the air. Sebastian can taste it. He watches Chris' dark, desperate eyes close, expecting to be kissed.

Seb doesn't kiss him.

Instead, Seb dips lower, he swivels his hips on his cock, making him cry out, and uses his mouth on his gorgeous tits. Wrapping his lips around his nipple and using just a hint of teeth, just a flick of his tongue. Teasing.

Chris' eyes snap back open with a half-wail, half-shout of his name. It's teary and urgent. Sebastian squeezes around him, making it worse. He bites his collarbone, laps teasingly down the line of chain of his necklace, and whispers into one of his tattoos, "you wanna dress like a slut, I'm gonna have to use you like one. You understand?"

He's teasing.

He's not expecting--

Chris chokes, "y-yes," he doesn't even seem to register what he's saying, so fuck-drunk, "use me."

Fuck.

"Use me," he whimpers.

Holy fuck.

How the fucking fuck is Sebastian going to turn down that invatation on a sliver fucking platter? What is there to do but sit back up, ignore his complaining, cramping quads, and get back to it? Fucking Chris like he's nothing but a toy, he doesn't have needs, he's just here to stay hard and be used. That's it. That's it. Yeah, God, yeah--

Sebastian gets back into his rhythm. Back to using him.

In conclusion:

Fuck that mesh shirt. It fucked me up.

#asks #fandomfluffandfuck #chris evans #sebastian stan #evanstan #rpf #real person fanfiction #bottom chris #top chris #top seb #sub chris #dom sebastian

34 notes · View notes

danganronpasurvivoraskblog · 5 years ago

Text

The Rescue Mission

Tch...another locked door...

Could use your lockpicking skills right about now...

Meh, don’t really feel like it...

We’ve already been caught so...

M-Mondo, don’t-!

*Mondo kicks the door, sending it crashing down.

I...ugh...

Hehe...It’s no problem...!

DIE!

NEVER MIND! IT’S A BIG PROBLEM!

*Mondo drops and rolls to avoid the thug taking a swing at him with a golf club. Taka pushes his way past the assailant to join his boyfriend.

It’s just the one guy...

Heh...easy pickins’

Yeah but...he has a weapon...

So?

RAAGH!

Tch...

GAHAHA!

*With what seems like very little effort, Mondo blocks the swing with the golf club and jabs his opponent in the face. He then trips the guy up and throws his unbalanced body into the nearest wall.

See? Easy.

You don’t have to try and one up me you know...?

D-Dammit...

*After laughing at this joke, Mondo goes to the guy he just knocked down and speaks to him in a threatening voice.

Tell me what I wanna know...

Go to hell corn head...

*Mondo replies by kicking him in the ribs.

Guh!

I thought we already negotiated...wanna go for round 2?

Where is the girl?

T...Top floor lounge...

The lounge on the top floor, huh? Appreciate the honesty...

A-Also...the doors got an electric lock...the code is 7301...

‘K...now you’re bein’ a little too honest...

I just...Captain Karma ain’t right in the head lately...Isao’s death is gettin’ to him...Maybe beatin’ him...maybe it’ll stop em...

...

Mondo?

Let’s go...Thanks for this...

[Top floor lounge]

...

Yo...how much longer do they got in this recess o’ theirs...?

I’d say round...half an hour...?

Ha! Hear that girly? 30 more minutes and you’re free to get outta here...

Tch...as if you’d let me go that easily...

*The conversation is cut off as the door to the lounge opens.

Hey. You’re Kanon Nakajima, right? Leon Kuwata’s cousin?

Don’t worry! We are here to rescue you!

Owada!? Wh-When the hell did you-!?

Trust me...I don’t wanna be here just as much as you asshats don’t want me here...

But you can’t just go around kidnapping girls for the sake of a fucking grudge...Let her go. If you do now, then we won’t even charge ya for kidnapping, and we’ll act like this never happened...sound reasonable, yeah?

Let her go? the fuck are you talking about? You can’t charge us for kidnapping...

Why not?

Chick ain’t tied up or nothin’...She can leave whenever she wants...

Y-You bastards...!

I understand...

Huh?

It’s all well and good if she’s here but you aren’t “keeping her captive”, am I correct?

Eje Karma’s plan is to make her stay here until the trial’s over, yes?

I’m sorry. That simply won’t work.

The fuck do you know, you nerdy-looking motherfucker!?

I’m nerdy enough to know that confinement and kidnapping falls under more than just tying somebody up. I’d read a book on it sometime...

If you can read that is...

Heh...nice...

Shut your fucking trap!

My point is that false imprisonment can get you charged three months to seven years in jail. If you hurt the victim, then it’s longer.

Well then...there’s only one thing for it...

What’s that?

We’ll have to kill her and dump her in the river! No body, no crime!

What!? But Captain Karma said...

I DON’T GIVE A SHIT WHAT KARMA THINKS!

As soon as he became the fucking leader, we ain’t had as much freedom as we did before! All our fights ain’t as violent or excitin’ as they used to be! Just broken bones and not much else...

He’s doin’ that to stop us gettin’ arrested! He’s tryin’ to heal the damage we took from the fucking tragedy!

Oh sure, ‘cause he’s doin’ a real fucking good job o’ that then!

If you guys don’t mind...and if you’re going to keep arguing with each other...then maybe you’ll let us take Ms Nakajima out here?

Also, intimidating and making such claims of deadly violence is another one for your pile. You’re treading on thin ice here good fellows...

Grr...you piece of...

Hey! Let’s make sure this asshole never talks again!

Kanon? You might wanna take a few steps back...

G-Gotcha...

Ok...That should be all of ‘em...

...Do you...recognize any of these guys...?

...Not really. A lotta them prolly joined when I got locked in Hope’s Peak.

A-Are we done now...? D-Did Leon send you?

We kinda came by ourselves for his sake. He can’t exactly leave the trial...

He’d also be too out of his element. They were keeping you hostage to stop him testifying...

That we were...

Huh?!

Sorry but...I can’t letcha leave just yet...

#danganronpa survivor #danganronpa #danganronpa 1 #dr1 #danganronpa ultra despair hagakure #mondo owada #kiyotaka ishimaru #kanon nakajima #the trial of koichi kizakura arc #oc #eje karma

10 notes · View notes

blondekasp · 5 years ago

Text

Of Seafoam and Amber Eyes

this is my gift for @honkhonkrichard for the @itfandomprompts secret santa 2019 event! i hope i was able to deliver something that you enjoy reading! happy holidays! ♡

hanbrough, side stanpat / 2.6k words / fluff / no warnings apply

read on ao3

*:･ﾟ✧༄

"Okay, Bill, we're gonna head back to the house. The others will be wondering where we are, and we need to make sure that Richie hasn't corrupted the baby. Are you coming?" Stan stands up from the dock, dusting off his slacks absentmindedly and helping Patty up off of the wooden boards. The sun's halfway set already and the temperature's dropping slightly as the stars begin to come out of hiding.

"No, I think I'm going to s-stay out a little longer. Don't worry, you guys cuh-can go back, I won't be out too la-late." Bill reassures them, and Stan nods, taking Patty's hand and leading her away, off the dock to take the short walk back to the house.

Bill decides to take the alone time to think, because as much as he loves his friends, they get each other excited, not leaving much room for real thinking time. It's the first time in a really long time that he's been at Richie's beach house as a single man. In previous years, he's always brought Audra with him to Richie's beach house. She's a lovely lady, but Bill just wasn't sure he felt completely like they were right for one another, so it ended. It's not that he misses being in a relationship with her, it's just really strange to break the routine and not be with her for a tradition.

It's been nearly half a year since they broke up, and he's been dating again as of recent. It's nothing too serious, and he's enjoying meeting new people, but nothing's really stuck yet. That's okay, though, he's not expecting anything to happen soon. Maybe he doesn't feel great about being the only one single at the summer house, but he'll get used to it.

He's secretly a tiny bit envious of Stan and Patty, they love each other so much. They've just had a baby, and Bill thinks that the last time he saw them this happy was on their wedding day. He remembers it fondly, all seven of the losers and Patty had cried that day, gotten drunk and cried some more. It was a great day, much like the day their son, Elio, was born. He hopes someday he can be as happy as them.

Bill dips his feet in the water and winces quietly at the temperature, but he doesn't pull away. The water's refreshing, even if it's quite cold, and for a minute he considers slipping into the water, but he's already dried off from being in earlier. His pale skin is illuminated by the glow of the ivory marble in the sky. There's something about the sight that makes him feel a certain way, like reality's altered. It feels like he's the only person in the world —like it's just him and the moon.

He's brought out of his thoughts when something brushes against his ankle, ever so slightly, but enough for him to notice it. He plants his hands on either side of him on the pier to secure himself, and he looks over, down into the water, to find nothing. He squints, sure that he had felt something, but chalks it up to it being that he must've grazed his foot against the support beam under the dock or that it's a fish swimming where he can't see it.

Well, that's what Bill assumes for the next few minutes as he sits in a perfect silence, kicking his feet gently in and out of the frigid water. But then he feels something grabbing onto his ankle and he jumps, yanking his legs out of the water. He shuffles back on the dock and peers over to see the source of his fright. His eyes widen at the sight of two deep brown eyes staring back at him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

Bill doesn't say anything, and the person continues, "Are you okay?"

"I, uh, yeah, I'm fuh-fine." Bill stammers, "Sorry, who are you?" He asks wearily, and the man in the water moves a little closer, smiling in what Bill assumes is an attempt to make sure Bill knows that he isn't intending to cause harm.

"I'm Mike, what's your name?" Mike's voice is gentle, and he has kind features, big mahogany toned eyes and an endearingly lopsided smile. Bill relaxes, sits back down, cross-legged on the dock. Mike takes this as a sign that Bill doesn't feel threatened by him, and a look of relief passes over his face.

"I'm Bill. Are you here with anyone?" Bill looks around, there's no one in close proximity, and Mike laughs softly, shaking his head.

"Oh, no, I'm by myself." Mike tells him, and Bill nods silently, "Is this your first time here?"

He shakes his head, "My friend has a house up here and we always come for the Summer. Is this your first time?"

A look comes over Mike's face, and he smiles slightly, "No, I'm here all the time, I live here. I don't really have the opportunity to go anywhere else." Bill looks like he's about to ask, and Mike beats him to it, glancing around to make sure no one's within earshot or sight of them. He dives down deeper into the water, head first, and that's when Bill sees it —a tail.

Mike breaks through the water again, staring up at Bill, who's standing up on the dock, and backing off of it, coming around the side and down onto the sand. He wades into the water, disregarding the temperature and approaching Mike, who looks surprised. "I assumed you would run away."

Bill shakes his head, trying to find the right words, "No, I, uh, I-I'm just shuh-shocked, I th-think." Mike nods, doesn't say anything, just gives Bill a minute to think. "Ah-Are there others?"

"Yeah, there is, they stay down there, though." He gestures out to the large expanse of water stretching across the horizon. "They don't like it up here, they're scared of humans. It's only because they've never came up here, though. All they've heard is stories, but I don't think there's anything to be scared of." Mike momentarily gives Bill a weary look, "Is there?"

"N-No, of course not. I'm not guh-gonna hurt you. This is just really uh-unexpected. Do you usually show people that you're here, or...?"

Mike swims closer, simpering soft-heartedly, "I don't, I usually don't come this close to people at all, I just look from a distance. But you looked like you needed a distraction from whatever was making you upset." Bill averts his eyes, letting out a low murmur of 'oh', and Mike reaches out, his fingers ghosting over Bill's arm, giving rise to goosebumps on his skin. "Speaking of, what was making you so sad? I know you said you're fine, but it doesn't look like you are."

The sea's shallow enough where they are that Bill can sit down on the sand beneath it, and he buries his hands into the sand, they sink in easily due to the water, and he closes his fists around small heaps of the sand. "I can't buh-believe I'm telling this to a st-stranger, but I don't really f-fuh-feel like talking to anyone else about this so here goes, I guess. My girlfriend —well ex-girlfriend —and I broke up earlier this year ah-and we've come here t-t-tuh-together every year since we got together. I guess it just feels different n-now that she isn't here, I don't kn-know." Mike frowns, and Bill feels compelled to ask, "Do yuh-you guys date? Or ha-have partners or whatever?"

The merman laughs, all breathy and light, and Bill grimaces, shaking his head at himself. "Guh-God, sorry, that was such a stupid question. Of course you guys date." He face begins to bloom red, the shade much like that of the eventide that Bill witnessed earlier that evening with Patty and Stan.

"It's okay, I understand that this is really weird. I'd probably ask that too if it were the other way around." Mike reassures him, lying back in the water, lustrous azure tail flicking up and breaking through the liquid surface gracefully as he did so. He turns his head to Bill, who's still sitting near him, watching and waiting for him to talk again. "I'm sorry about your break up, though. If you don't mind that I'm asking, why did you break up?"

Bill shrugs half-heartedly, removing one hand from the sand and trailing his fingers along the surface of the water, "We were good together, buh-but it wasn't really in the w-way that we thought. We started dating a few years ago while we were still in c-c-college and it was rea-really fun but as time went on I k-kind of realised that we worked better as friends? It just d-didn't really feel romantic, something was m-mih-missing. We ended it because Audra said she felt the same way."

"What do you think was missing?"

Bill furrows his eyebrows, smiles a little, "I'm not sure, I guess I'll know whenever I find it." There's a moment of silence, and then Bill speaks again, "So, what's d-d-dating like for you?"

"Well, I suppose I don't really date. It's not like I haven't had opportunities or anything, I guess I just don't want to live like the rest of them down there. It's so boring. And I don't feel like I really have a mutual understanding with the others in my area, I think differently and they don't really approve." Mike sighs, "That's why I spend so much of my time up here. My parents are great, I love them so much, but I don't think they really get why I want change."

"I don't think m-my parents really uh-understood me either."

"Yeah?"

Bill hums, "My little brother went m-missing for a year when I was thirteen. I must've spent the entire t-time trying to figure out where he could've gone, how we could find hi-him and bring him home. My parents weren't having any of it. They kept insisting that I le-leave it alone, accept that Georgie was guh-gone. I couldn't uh-understand why they wanted to stop looking, it made me angry, and really confused. They were quite cold ah-after Georgie disappeared."

"What happened? To Georgie?"

"He was found a year later," Bill's lips curve upwards at the thought of his brother, "I don't think he remembers whatever happened in the time that he was away, he's absolutely fine now. He's nineteen, and going to school in New York.

Mike adjusts in the water, lying on his front, his forearms on the sand supporting him. "That's great, I'm glad. It seems like you love him a lot."

The writer nods, "I know a lot of siblings don't get along, but Georgie and I always huh-have. It was really rough when he went m-missing, sometimes I think I took it harder than my parents did. I'm so grateful that he's alive right now, all of the time I spent wondering wh-where he was and what had happened t-to him was pretty torturous and now that I kn-know that he's safe at college, I feel like I can relax."

Mike glides into close proximity, taking Bill's hand into his and patting it gently with the other. He doesn't say anything, just flashes Bill a lopsided beam, pearly white teeth on show and Bill thinks that he can actually feel his heart rate gradually slowing, he can pinpoint the exact moment when the tension floods out of him and he relaxes. The author doesn't say anything either, just simpers back in return, feeling a sudden relief at knowing that he's finally told someone what’s been on his mind.

He lets Mike come closer.

*:･ﾟ✧༄

"He sounds absolutely crazy."

"Oh, yeah, one-hundred p-percent, Richie's definitely a dumbass." Bill chuckles, "He pushed our friend, Eddie, out of a tree in m-middle school, Eddie was totally fine afterwards and Rih-Richie started crying because he felt so bad." Mike throws his head back, laughs from his chest, and the way it sounds makes Bill's stomach swoop momentarily, causing him to squint and then quickly recompose himself before Mike notices. "We all love h-him though, he's a good guy regardless of all the stupid sh-shit he does."

Mike's lying beside him, resting his head on his forearms, he turns his head to look at Bill, resting his cheek on his arm. "Your friends are amazing, and it sounds like you're all so close with each other. I wish I had friends like that."

"W-Well," Bill slowly extends his arm out to curl his hand around Mike's, "We're friends now, right?"

The merman shifts his eyes, seemingly bashful, and nods, looking back up at him and flashing that winning smile once more. "Yeah, I guess we are. Thank you, I don't really have a lot of friends or others around me who take the time to get to know me. You're the first in a long time."

Bill opens his mouth to respond, but he's silenced by a voice calling in the near distance. "Bill? Bill! Are you here?”

"Eddie?" He murmurs, perplexed, and turns back around to Mike. Eddie's voice is drawing closer and Mike looks panicked. He swiftly moves from his lying position and shuffles closer to Bill, resting a rough hand on his flushed cheek.

"This was really fun, Bill, thank you." His eyes flick down momentarily, and he surges in quickly but gently, pressing a kiss to his mouth and pulling away just as fast, leaving Bill to wonder if he had simply imagined it. He can't find the right words, just stares wide-eyed at Mike, who has the ghost of a smile on his mouth.

Eddie's voice beckons to Bill and he swivels around to see him jogging over. He turns back, to say goodbye to Mike, only to find that he's gone. "Bill! What are you doing out here?"

"Uh, I guess I juh-just lost track of time. Speaking of, wh-what time actually is it?" Bill asks, looking back out to the sea, in hopes of catching a glimpse of Mike. There's nothing but the sea foam and the water crashing against the rocks.

"It's four o'clock! I woke up to get some water and I walked by your room and saw that you hadn't came back. Jeez, Bill, warn us if you plan on staying out this late." Eddie shakes his inhaler, holds it between his lips and presses the trigger.

"I'm sorry, Eddie, I didn't h-have my phone with me and I didn't mean to stay out this late. Are yuh-you okay?"

"I'm fine, Bill, are you? I've noticed that you've been kind of down since we got here, if it's because of everything with Audra, we're all here for you, you know?" Eddie sits down on the sand next to Bill, and does his best to avoid the tide coming in.

Bill smiles to himself, nodding, "I know, Eddie, thank you." The water crests against a group of rocks, and he wonders if Mike is still watching from a distance, “I think I’m going to be okay.” He whispers, sounds so sure of himself that even he’s taken aback.

“I’m glad, Bill. What’s changed?” Eddie’s voice comes from behind him, and the blue-eyed man sinks his hand into the sand again, thinks about tomorrow, thinks about the look in Mike’s eyes just a moment before he kissed him. He hopes he’ll see Mike tomorrow, he wants to come back and talk to him again, maybe kiss him again.

“I guess I’ve just had a lot of t-time to think things over while I’ve b-buh-been out here. The view really put th-things into perspective for muh-me. I think I’ll cuh-come back tomorrow, it’s nice h-here.”

#it 2019 #hanbrough #stanpat #mermaid au #stephen king #it fandom secret santa 2019 #mine #writing #bill denbrough #mike hanlon #stan uris #patty uris #eddie kaspbrak

26 notes · View notes

richietoessir · 6 years ago

Text

Adult!Richie x reader

Basically, they meet up. IDK, I don’t wanna delete Richies not straightness but also I’m a sløt so let us say he’s bi. (which is honestly my canon, he radiates some strong bi vibes)

YOU guessed it my friend its a CHAPTER this asshølæ here is gonna do a series oh heck

Chapter 1

It’s just about 900 words guys im warming up okay

Fellas, I don’t proofread so - proceed

“No, absolutely not.”

You had settled with a pace, marching in circles around the small living room. You remembered nothing, whether it was because you had elected to forget it purposely or not you didn’t know. The melody of the stupid jingle you had set as your ringtone still waving in the air as mild unconscious tinnitus.

“sorry, who” you wondered into the phone, as you put down the wineglass, giving it one last swirl as you did so.

The other line plainly said, “Mike.” You couldn’t quite place the tone he said it in. Merry Melancholy maybe? You didn’t have much time to define it though before you felt a vigorous nagging in the back of your mind. And suddenly it flooded your vision, the friend group. The outcast? No names came to mind, just a blurry picture of the “has been” mixed with something else you couldn’t place. “so you want us to meet up? Mike.” the name tasted strange rolling out over your tongue. And so it was settled.

“NO, absolutely not! why did I agree to this.” You had work to do, you couldn’t take a drive to this town you had forgotten about. “fucking pushover.” Mumbling you accidentally knocked into something warm, a squeak followed.

Your cat, complaining. “food?” You glanced downwards to the large cat who returned the gesture, looking up at you, ears turning as you suggested food. You supply the cat with more than enough, packing up the little purple bowl for the not so little cat. It’s only one evening y/n, come on.

So you put the keys in the ignition and ventured out to supposedly meet a gathering of people who you didn’t remember existed simply 50 minutes ago.

________________________________________________________

“Be-Bev?” the nickname sneaked out, hurried amongst a puff of air. You had smacked the car door, and as you followed along the side of the restaurant, you turned a corner where you were faced with a bundle of red hair. You felt your brain glaze over with information about her. Her story, how you ended up knowing her. How she knew you. “holy, shit” surrendering weight on one leg you let your body slump into a wall. “hi” a man with a trimmed beard chimed in, he looked at you with a soft smile. “…and you?” you questioned

“oh-oh, me? Sorry, it’s me, Ben” he smiled bigger, joy entering his eyes.

No fucking way. “no fucking way.” You smiled, joining eyes with Bev addressing her “no fucking way. Ben! And Bev! What, the fuck guys” You shook your head shaking off the bubble your mind had snuck itself into. It seemed unreal to meet these people. You knew them and you couldn’t phantom the fact that you did. Not knowing how to phrase a sentence, mesmerized, you stuttered about only to be halted by embraces. You stayed there for a moment, silent. “I don’t know if you guys remember, but I’m not big on hugging, but i will allow it” you laughed gently. after that, silence took grasp of the parking lot.

“you know, the others are here too” Ben gestured towards the entrance.

“oh, hell yeah.”

“Y/N, they’re already here” Ben smiled again straining his voice as an indicator of something. Processing for an instant you swiftly realized “oh-OOh, right, right imma go say hi to them yeah? Cool.” you, not so discreetly, winked knowingly back at Ben. Who laughed nervously.

You got the jist when you were younger, “you like Bevy dontcha?” nudging his side, he blushed hard looking everywhere else than you. “n-No.“ Oh yeah you do

Walking towards the entrance, you chuckled to yourself. This situation, Ben, Bev. Remembering and forgetting. It was ridiculous. How does that happen?

“Bill! Eddie! Mike!” you almost yelled when you saw them standing, chattering. They all turned, realization hitting them, just how it had hit you. “its Y/N” you uttered, excitement on bright display. “yo, you all look handsome as ever, also have you seen Ben he…” you opened your mouth, and did not shut it.

“…And, oh God, I just realized I drank wine before I started drivin-”“y/N,” you froze, you forgot, you thought everyone was there. Forcing your eyes down to a reasonable size, you turned in one swift movement. Holy s h I t. How Tozier had managed to, escape you, and your mind you didn’t know. But now that he was in front of you, he surely wasn’t going anywhere. Realizing Richie only said your name he quickly tried to save himself, gesturing with a hand in his leather pocket “what’s up with all of you lookin smoking hawt, god, that’s what I get for being a young heartthrob isn’t it.” he half-smiled allowing a laugh to escape before launching forth, engulfing everyone in a crushing hug. He turned to you.

“hey, Toes.”

You held back the chuckle that threatened to creep out, as you announced the nickname that suddenly came back to you. It became harder though as he responds with a deadpan face, “really? Seriously? It has been what like 30 years, and that’s how-how do you even remember that, god you’re stupid” the fake annoyance quickly broke as Richie pulls you in for another tight hug, it seemed like he needed it.

“your hair is pretty greasy. You know that?” you half teased as you pull away.

“you’re awful Y/n.”

“yeah, I know,” your face bursting out in a smile, “you’re tall now too. Too bad I took all the good looks with me, huh.”

“fuck, you.“

“that’s fair."

…

"okaaaay, you guh-guys want to ea-eat?"

#richie x reader #richie #richie tozier #richie toizer x reader #richard tozier #it x reader

30 notes · View notes

mairibarra · 6 years ago

Text

if your love was bad for you.

Pairing: Bill Denbrough/Richie Tozier (Bichie) Prompt: angsty unrequited type of situation with a happy and/or bittersweet ending. My fill for @sinningtozier for the @it2ficexchange Trigger warning for mentions of cheating and recreational drug use.

READ ON AO3.

Richie Tozier is fourteen years old, and he was kissed by Bill Denbrough for the first time. They were sitting down in the Toziers spacious basement. The last couple of weeks, since starting high school, Richie along with Bev, Stan and Bill had started dabbling in smoking weed. Eddie was always quick to turn up his nose at the mere thought and then launch into a rant about the harm of lung cancer. Ben, a little similarly to Eddie, seemed convinced that his mother would be able to take one look at him and now what they’d been doing. He was quick to duck out once somebody brought it out, always quick to cite a separate reason while everybody knew the truth. Mike would laugh off all his friends suggestions of him trying it, smiling to himself as though he had some sort of secret.

This evening, only Richie and Bill were left behind, with everybody else already on their ways home or somewhere else. Darkness had settled over Derry, Maine, and all the Losers knew it was dangerous place to be caught outside once the sun went down. The murders of 1989 might have stopped, and Henry Bowers might be sitting behind the walls Juniper Hill, but his minions still walked free and it just felt... sinister. This town was beyond ruined for the young teens that lived there, and they all often counted down the days until they were able to leave and never look back.

“Do you ever think about leaving this place, Big Bill?” Richie asked, resting his hands on his stomach. His high was rapidly falling, as Richie found was usually true. It was a though his brain couldn’t hold it even when it wanted to, always coming down much faster than any of his friends. Maybe his brain just moved too fast, his father always told him it did.

“Everyday.” Bill responded immediately. His stutter was always non-existent in moments like this, Richie had noticed more than once. While his stutter had gotten less obvious the older they got, but it never really went away completely except when it was just the two of them. That thought always made Richie feel like a little fuzzy inside.

“Where would you go?” Richie asked, still looking up at the ceiling a little pointedly. Bill was maybe closer to him than Richie had originally thought they were laying, he could feel the heat radiating off of him. “When you leave Derry?”

“As far away as possible,” Bill said with a sigh. “England, maybe. All the way across the ocean sounds good.” Richie hadn’t even had the chance to open his mouth before Bill was reaching out and pinching them shut.

"If you even think about doing the British guy right now, you’re not allowed to come visit me ever.”

Richie knocked Bill’s hand away, grinning toothily up at him. “Aye, matey, I would never be a visiting ‘ou. We’ll across the pond together.”

Bill scowled down at Richie’s terrible, slightly pirate-like, accent before his face softened at the words. Before Richie could really react to anything, Bill was leaning down and pressing his lips to Richie’s. It just a quick brush, then Bill was gone. Laying back on the ground with a simple, beep beep trashmouth.

★ ★ ★

Richie Tozier is fifteen years old, and he still fucking hated clowns. They were creepy, alright? There was something about those pale faces matched with all those bright colours that made Richie’s skin crawl. He told Bill Denbrough as much, when he linked his arms through Bill’s and pulled him away.

“Then why don’t you creep yourself, th-t-then?” Bill asked him with a chuckle. Richie let out a loud, mock-offended noise and moved to pulled away but Bill tugged at him. Tucked him back into his side. “Come on, let’s g-g-get hot dogs.”

Richie followed with Bill, tucked a little happily under Bill’s arm. After that stupid stoned kiss the year before, Richie’s crush on Bill Denbrough that he’d been ignoring since- well, probably since kindergarten- had bubbled itself up to the surface and was constantly chewing at his self peace. It didn’t help that Bill had never mentioned it again, making it clear to Richie that it meant nothing to Bill and everything to him.

Richie had chatted Stan’s ear off for a good couple of months after it had happened, which Stan had spent the time insisting that Bill did like Richie, he must have if he kissed him, and even trying to encourage Richie to ask Bill out. That had all fallen apart when Bill had dragged over some girl from his writer’s society, and introduced her as his new girlfriend. Richie had been crushed, but had avoided Stan’s looks of concern and pity, always quick to push aside feelings when they start to see even slightly troublesome.

That had been a few months ago, still, and Richie supposed that Bill and his girlfriend were still together, he’d mention her every couple of days of things they’d done, but Richie rarely saw her. She never sat with them at lunch or hung out with them outside of school. He’d sometimes get a glimpse of Bill walking with her in the hallways, and Bill now sat with her during history instead of Richie, but they weren’t the closest couple from what Richie was ever able to see. Didn’t stop it from stinging a little bit, the confirmation that kissing Richie was nothing to Bill.

Bill paid for Richie’s hot dog and drink, even though Richie had his own money from the part time job at the movie theater, and Richie smiled a little bashfully when Bill handed it to him. “I-I sort of h-h-hated carnivals, too. They’re t-t-too loud.”

“I’m too loud,” Richie answered without thinking, one of those little times when his personal insecurities came shining through his joking composure.

Bill turned to look at him, his brow furrowing. “You a-are loud.” He agreed, and Richie hunched in on himself slightly. “Bu-buh-but not too loud.”

Richie smiled, nudging Bill’s shoulder with his own. “Thanks, Big Bill.” Richie did something he knew he shouldn’t do, something that was wrong and not good. Bill wasn’t Eddie, who would laugh and then flip him off, but Richie still found himself doing it.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Bill’s cheek. He pulled back quickly and offered up a small smile. He started turning away, but Bill cupped Richie’s chin and pulled him back. Kissed him on the lips. Richie let out a gasp as he felt Bill’s lips moving against his own. Richie melted into it, wishing he had a free hand, and pressed himself a little bit closer to Bill’s body.

Bill pulled back first, again, and licked his bottom lip. He cleared his throat, face burning red, and turned around. “Fuh-fuh-finish that huh-hot-hot dog, Tozier. I puh-puh-paid guh-good money for tuh-that.”

Richie stared at the side of Bill’s head in a daze as he took the hot dog towards his still tingling mouth.

★ ★ ★

Richie Tozier is sixteen years old, and Bill Denbrough had him pressed back into the couch cushions. Richie let out a harsh exhale of breath, turning his head to side while Bill’s mouth lacked onto Richie’s neck. Their hips might have rocking together, Richie wasn’t even sure, because it felt like Bill was everywhere.

It had been months of this, hang outs during into Richie and Bill alone at the end of the night, Bill leaning into Richie’s space, laying him down and kissing for hours until Richie thought he’d need Eddie’s inhaler to get a single breath. Knees feeling weak for hours after Bill went home. Heart racing in his chest like an injured bird that was trying to fly but couldn’t get off the ground

It was never anything more than this. Hot lips on lips, or neck, and hands touching under shirts. Bill always locked right up if Richie tried to move any further than that, not able to get any words out beyond his stutter in those moments. Richie knew what they were, even if he wasn’t entirely sure what this was. He knew that when Bill left his house, he’d make a nightly phone call to his girlfriend and tell her that he loved her.

Richie groaned, a noise not of any sort of pleasure, but of the sudden sick feeling settled in his stomach. Bill pulled off his neck, where an obvious mark was now sitting high enough that Richie would have to wear a fucking turtleneck to cover ti up. “Wh-what’s wrong?” Bill asked, wiping the spit off his mouth with the back of his hand.

Richie pushed at Bill’s head, forcing himself into a seated position and tugging at the curls on his head. He couldn’t look at Bill in this moment, suddenly felt that maybe he’d never be able to look at him again. “What are you doing after this?”

Bill’s face seemed to pale as he moved away from Richie’s body, putting that space between them. It felt so much more than it really was, Richie couldn’t remember the last time he’d been sitting on the same couch as Bill without their bodies touching. Bill sighed, scratching at the back of his neck. “You know wuh-wuh-where I’m guh-going.”

Yeah, Richie knew. It would be nice if Bill would say it, though. Just once. Richie grabbed his hoodie that he’d stripped off when he’d got overheated while kissing, and tugged it back over his head. “You should probably go, then. Don’t want to be late for her.”

Bill blinked at him, then frowned. “I duh-don’t need to go for at luh-least an hour.”

Richie let out a little half sigh himself and stood up, starting to gather up the empty drink containers and dishes off the little coffee table. “You don’t want to be late. Go there smelling like me.”

“Wuh-we use the suh-suh-same sa-shampoo. She-she wuh-won’t nuh-notice.” Bill struggled to get the words out, and Richie was sure if he looked at Bill his face would be a deep red. But Richie simply stiffened, then threw the garbage a little harsher than necessary into the bin. “Are you okay?”

Richie shook his head. “You should just go, Bill. I can’t keep doing this. Find somebody else to cheat on your girlfriend with.”

Bill made an awkward noise in the back of his throat. An uncomfortable noise. Letting Richie know that his little reminder wasn’t welcome. “Yuh-you knew wuh-what this was. You nuh-never tuh-told me that-”

“I’m telling you now!” Richie cut him off with a sharp yell, dropping the trash bin to the ground and turning around to look at Bill. His friend- his whatever they were- was still sitting on the couch, hands hanging between his legs. His hair was a mussed mess and his eyes were sad, and he looked beautiful. “I’m telling you now. I can’t fucking do this anymore.”

Bill swallowed harshly, his shoulders tensing. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Richie nodded, once and moved outside to bring the garbage into the bigger can in the garage. When he came back into basement, Bill and all his things were gone.

★ ★ ★

Richie Tozier is seventeen years old, and he’d just gotten a promotion. It was just a position of longer hours at the theater, but he lived for it. The idea that he was good at something, could do something. Ever since Bill had kissed him the year before, and continued on dating his girlfriend, Richie had let himself slip away from the Losers. He loved his friends, he loved Bill, but he wasn’t going to let himself be the Other Person. Not even for Bill Denbrough.

“You look like shit, Tozier.” Stanley Uris’ voice carried over to him, and Richie sighed. He supposed the most awkward times for him was whenever his friends- old friends? No, just friends. Still his friends- came in to see a movie.

Richie forced a smile at his best friend, running his fingers through his messy hair. He winced at the dryness that he found, wondering for a short second how long it had been since he’d showered. “Ah, you know me, Stan the Man. Always looking like a mess.”

Stan clucked his tongue, looking skeptically at Richie for a long moment before shaking his head. “Everybody else is going to be here soon. I came ahead of them to warn you, in case you wanted to go hide in the back.”

It was a passive aggressive comment, not a genuine offer of escape and they both knew it. Stan and Eddie, in particular, had been supportive of Richie’s original departure from the group, believing that Richie needed some space and would soon be back. The longer that Richie was separate, the less they seemed to tolerate his absence. “I work here,” Richie replied to Stan a little stiffly. enjoying how Stan’s eyebrows raised up. “I’m not going to run and hide. If Bill doesn’t want to see me, he can find something else to do on Saturday nights besides see movies.”

“Bill doesn’t not want to see you, Rich.” Stan said quietly, his face opening up and looking a little softer.

“No, that’s the problem, I guess.” Richie said, knowing his voice was too sharp and that he had walls up around himself that Stan could see through without squinting. “The problem is that he does, and I can’t keep getting dicked around like that. It’ll kill me.”

A sad look settled itself on Stan’s face but he was suddenly interrupted by a small shout of “Trashmouth!” before Richie found himself with an arm full of Eddie Kaspbrak. Richie let out a surprised little laugh before a mess of red hair that could only be Beverly Marsh was attaching herself to him as well.

Richie greeted all of his friends, finding himself feel little in a way that he hadn’t in a while. Too long. His eyes fell onto Bill and he wondered if everybody could see the walls around him as they went up. “Huh-hey, Rich.” Bill said, his cheeks turning red.

Richie blinked at him, thinking for a moment about how much his friends knew about what happened. Stan and Bev, they knew everything, as Richie had told them. Called them after Bill had left that night, and they’d both sneaked over to sit with him while cried through most of the night. Stan Uris and Beverly Marsh, the only two people Richie would let see him at his absolute lowest. Had Bill told the others? Or were they completely in the dark to why everything had changed?

Something in his gut told him that Bill would never have told anybody about them, and his resolve to stay far the fuck away from Bill Denbrough hardened inside him. He put on a formal face, one that if the stunned expression Eddie gave him meant anything, was extremely convincing. “Our self service devices are out of order tonight, so you’ll have to buy your tickets up at the concession stand. Enjoy the movies, guys.”

Richie nodded with as much friendliness as he could muster, and turned to go find something to do when a hand grabbed his wrist. “Wuh-wuh-wait.” Bill said, squeezing Richie’s wrist. “Can I tuh-talk to you?”

Richie swallowed a little roughly, and gave a short nod to hesitating Beverly. As she finally walked slowly away, Richie looked at Bill and turned his customer service persona up to eleven. “How can I help you?”

Bill huffed out a breath, his eyes squeezing shut. “Richie, can you nuh-not be luh-like this? El-luh-lizabeth and I bruh-broke up.”

And well.. Richie had heard that. In a school as small as Derry High, it would have been impossible for him to have not to. It was all anybody talked about for three days, until David Miller sent Shauna Finchel’s nudes around and Billy and Elizabeth’s sudden break up was pushed aside. Part of Richie had wondered if Bill was going to come talk to him, but he refused to play with the idea that he was that important.

But now Bill stood in front of him, shuffling and looking oh-so guilty. Richie shook his head. “I’m not sure what you expect me to do with that information, Billy Boy. Are you offering her up to me, I help ease her through this tough time if you know what I mean.” Richie thrust his hips sexually and Bill just stared at him blankly.

“Richie, can you juh-juh-just...” Bill swore under his breath. “You can cuh-come back to the gruh-group, is what I muh-meant.”

Richie cracked his knuckles and tongued at his teeth. “Do you? All miss me.”

Bill clenched his jaw and furrowed his brow. “Yes.”

Richie bit his bottom lip and nodded.

★ ★ ★

Richie Tozier is eighteen years old, and he was standing on the old Derry bridge after graduating high school. He had Eddie Kaspbrak tucked under one arm, and was sharing a hilarious conversation about nothing with Ben Hanscom. There were after parties going on all over town, but the Losers were in no rush to get to to any of them. Everybody they really wanted to see was standing right here.

Richie glanced over his shoulder at where Bill was laughing loudly with Mike, palming a beer that Richie suspected that he wasn’t really drinking, and sighed a little louder than he’d intended. He felt Eddie shift underneath him and he looked down at Eddie’s little face, the other boy- or man? Were they men now? Richie didn’t feel like a man- looked oddly tiny with Richie’s bomber jacket on.

“Go talk to him,” Eddie said simply, offering Richie a smile. “You two are being idiots. Fix whatever’s broken here. I’m begging you, this weird pretending you don’t care about each other shit is getting old.”

Richie looked at Ben, half hoping his friend would be on his side, but Ben had already started nodding before Richie finished his turn. Sighing, Richie dropped his arm away from Eddie and shuffled over to Bill with his hands in his suit pants.

When Mike and Bill noticed Richie approaching, Mike patted Bill on the shoulder and he smiled at Richie as he moved to talk to Beverly and Stan. Richie gave Bill a small smile, opened his mouth and-

“Are yuh-you and Eddie duh-dating?”

Richie blinked and gaped at Bill, completely taken back by the question. He turned back to Eddie, who was sitting up on the railing of the bridge and cackling, and Richie spluttered out a laugh. “What? Eddie? No, fuck no. Eddie’s my little buddy.”

Bill flushed. “He’s wuh-wearing your juh-jacket.”

“He was cold!” Richie laughed, brushing his overgrown curls away from his face. “He weighs like fifty pounds, dude, and he was wearing a vest suit! Are Eddie and I dating... Jesus Christ, Denbrough. And I thought I had marbles for brains.”

“Yuh-you do have muh-marbles for brains,” Bill muttered, but while the attempt was there that attitude was not. Bill was still staring down at his feet with red cheeks. “I just thu-thought it would make suh-sense if you and Euh-Eddie were...”

Richie let out a harsh cackle, hunching over and wrapping his arms around his stomach. “Oh my God, stop. Stop. I’m going to fucking piss myself. Oh my God.”

“Stop laughing at me, dick weed!” Bill pushed at Richie, knocking him against the railing. It wasn’t a violent movement, both boys going up against it giggling.

Richie suddenly realized how close they were, faces almost touching. Richie gave him a grin. “Why so concerned about me and Eds? Ya jealous, Big Bill?” And it was a joke. Oh, was it a joke. Richie’s entire life was a joke, really.

“Muh-maybe.” Bill admitted anyway and Richie blinked at him. The two of them stared at one other, breath caught in their throats, until Bill grinned at him. “I duh-don’t want Euh-Eddie to get uh-over his cruh-crush on you for the luh-likes of you. It’ll be a bluh-blow to my ego.”

Richie laughed so hard he snorted.

★ ★ ★

Richie Tozier is eighteen years old, and he’s running through an airport waiting room. He, himself, will be leaving Derry forever in just three days. Well, not forever in truth. His parents still lived here, and he knew that for the next fours years he’d be coming home every summer and every holiday but... in three days, Derry would no longer be Richie’s home.

Bill Denbrough was leaving Derry that day. Within an hour or so, really. And not just Derry, no. Bill was going big, getting onto that plane and leaving Maine, leaving America. Richie had put off saying goodbye, not even going to Bill’s goodbye party

“Aye, matey, I would never be a visiting ‘ou. We’ll across the pond together.”

“BILLY!” Richie screamed as he caught sight of his friend moving up in the line of people waiting to board the flight to England. Bill turned and it was almost like it was happening in slow motion. His eyes went wide and he stepped out of the line, walking towards Richie as though in a daze as Richie ran at him.

“Rich...”

Richie nearly collided with him, but managed to skid to a stop just in front of him. He quickly stumbled forward, cupping the back of Bill’s neck and knocking their foreheads together. At some point during the last two years of alienation between them, Richie Tozier had grown taller than Big Bill Denbrough.

He could hear Bill’s take in a big breath and Richie felt like his whole body was shaking. “I’m gunna miss ya.”

“Fuck,” Bill whispered under his breath, hands gripping Richie’s hips. “I love you, Richie. I luh-luh-love you.”

“Now boarding flight 1-27 to London! Now boarding flight 1-27!”

Richie let Bill go, offered him a watery smile, and walked away without another word exchanged.

★ ★ ★

Richie Tozier was twenty years old, and for the first time he wasn’t going back to Derry for the summer break. He’d considered it, even though he had his own studio apartment out in Cali, but he loved his job that he wasn’t sure would hold a spot for him if he took off for three months. When Stan had told him he was only going back to two weeks in the end of July, Richie had decided to stay out in California.

As April came to an end, and Richie didn’t pack up his things and make the 2 day drive, was the first time Richie realized that Derry didn’t feel like home anymore. Outside of Stan and occasionally Mike, Richie barely even heard from the other Losers anymore. Eddie called him every couple months to catch up, always very long phone calls that they both complained about the prize but continued to do. Bev made trips out to California once a year, but otherwise they were strictly tag each other in memes friends these days. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d spoken to Ben Hanscom. Probably Thanksgiving the year before. And Bill...

Richie hadn’t heard from Bill since he’d left him in the Bangor Airport, and I love you too unsaid between them.

“Rich...?” Richie turned around as Jane, his girlfriend of nearly seven months, padded into the living room wearing nothing but his oversized AFRICA by TOTO t-shirt. “Are you coming back to bed?”

Richie smiled and nodded, following her into his future.

★ ★ ★

Richie Tozier was twenty-three years old, and he was opening his apartment door at the 3 in the morning to frantic knocking. Bill Denbrough stood on the other side of it, soaking wet and panting as though he’d run the entire way from England. Richie blinked at him for several moments before stumbling backwards and letting him into the apartment.

“Your fiancee left you.” Bill heaved out, staring at Richie with those big wide eyes. Five years since Richie had seen him, and somehow Bill Denbrough managed to make Richie’s heart stop in his chest.

“Uh yeah,” Richie said, head spinning from these sudden events that were taken place while his brain was still half asleep. “Yeah, like... Like, a year ago, dude...”

Bill seemed to flush, but the apartment was dark and Richie wasn’t wearing his fucking glasses so it wasn’t like he could really tell. “I just heard.” Bill said simply, raising a hand like he meant to touch Richie but stopped at the last moment,

“Takes a long time for information to travel across that big ol’ ocean, huh.” Richie said, half hoping he didn’t sound as bitter as he felt. But part of him hoped Bill could exactly what Richie was feeling.

“Go out with me.” Bill blurted out, suddenly sounding not unlike a young Richie Tozier, who’d yet to even try to filter his thoughts. Richie blinked at him and said nothing. “I know I... fucked everything... up between us...” Bill was speaking so slowly, Richie knew it was a tactic to help his stutter, but he sort of wished he’d just stutter through the words and get to the goddamn point already. “But I have... always loved you... and I would like to... try being together... please.”

“Do I get a say in this?” Richie asked snarkly and Bill frowned.

“Yes. The ball... is in your court... now... Tozier.” Bill said with a nod, moving back towards the door and walking out it. Richie watched him turn into a small blub and panic struck into his chest as realized fuck Bill was going to walk away.

Richie rushed out of the apartment, half blind and half dressed, leaving the door wide open. “Billy, wait!”

Bill turned around, beaming.

#bichie #bichie fic #bill denbrough #richie tozier #it fanfiction #it fic exchange #my writing

55 notes · View notes

roxybefab · 5 years ago

Text

The Ink Artist

The art classroom was quiet, the only sound heard was Riley’s even breathing and the sound of the ink covered pen she held.

Her animation was almost complete and many basic sketches of the two main characters littered the table she sat at. She was currently working on an idea for her next episode.

Her wavy chocolate brown locks were in a loose side braid.

She was about average height but still wore heeled brown boots to make her look a bit taller. Her body was what she considered ‘fluffy’, an excuse for her slightly chubby body.

She wore a baggy hooded plaid shirt, red and black, and black leggings underneath.

Her eyes, hazel and huge, were protected by a pair of big round glasses and her cheeks were rosy.

Her skin was beige (although it was hard to tell by the ink that covered her hands), similar to most hispanic people, and her lips, plump, were a gorgeous shade of pink.

The door opens and in comes Amanda Mary Drew, Riley’s best (and only) friend.

Mandy was a pretty and kind girl.

Like Riley, she was ‘fluffy’ and sported rosy cheeks.

Her skin was a bit lighter and she wore some fake glasses, which she claimed were repelling blue light, that made her look good and smart at the same time.

“H..Hey, Muh-muh...Mands!” the brunette’s face turned a light pink in embarrassment as she struggled to speak. She sighs and looks down to keep working on the outline.

Mandy smiles at her, a quiet ‘hey’ leaving her lips as she sat down beside her.

“So, you’re still working on these two goofs, huh?” Mandy picks up the paper, the two main characters from before on the paper.

Riley smiles and nods.

The names Candy and Charlie were in big letters and two children were on the page. Both looked to be made of candy, marshmallows, and sported crowns on their heads. The girl, Candy, and the boy, Charlie, both siblings. Mandy smiles back and puts the drawing back down.

“Hey, did you hear? Jeff killed someone else.” Riley perks up at the familiar name, her attention turning to the smaller female as she opens her bag and pulls out a newspaper. The words, ‘JEFF STRIKES AGAIN’ on the front. It showed a picture of a woman, crying, holding her child. The little boy had a grin cut into his face and you could see that he was stabbed multiple times. Riley smirks to herself, opening the paper and reading,

Jeff the Killer strikes again, murdering a twelve year old boy by the name of Allen. He was found in his bed, stabbed about twenty times and a smile carved into his face. Police haven’t found him quite yet and it is very obvious that they are getting frustrated with how this killer keeps escaping from them—

She sighs, handing it back to Mandy who takes it and shoves it in her bag.

“Hey, wanna g-go out and get suh-suh-something? Lunch starts i-i-in thirty muh-muh-minutes and I really whu-whu-want some Mcdonalds.” Riley suddenly asks, putting down her pen and getting up to stretch. She heard Mandy let out an ‘Okay.’ as she begins putting away her supplies.

“I’m home!” Riley groans in annoyance, turning up the volume of the tv. A cartoon was playing, Spongebob is what the brunette remembered it was called, and Riley couldn’t help but ignore her mother’s boyfriend when he walked in the room with a bag of chinese takeout.

“Hey, dude!” he exclaims once he sees her, a smile on his face as he sits next to her. She smiles at him, “Hey, Duh-Duh-Dylan” leaving her lips before she goes back to her drawing. She hears the crinkling of the plastic bag , the smell of orange chicken and chow mein hitting her as soon as she looks up at him with a questioning look on her face.

He was young, 34 from what Riley remembered, with dark fluffy hair and an average body. He was always around, more than Riley’s mom, and Riley couldn’t help but feel like he was her father. He smiles his huge, white smile at her as he started to put food on a plate.

“Your mom is gonna work late,” he hands her the plate, “So I decided we could hang out.”

“Yeah, t-th-that sounds c-cool.” she smiles, putting her sketchbook down as she starts to dig in.

“So, you still drawing in ink only?” he asks before taking a bite of his food. Riley nods, glancing down at the inked sketch from before.

“Maybe t-t-tomorrow I’ll c-c-color it?” Dylan laughs, making the teen lift a brow.

“What’s s-so fuh-funny?” She asks, slightly glaring at him.

“Kid, you always say that! Last week you said you’d color in the last one but you ended up not doing it.”

“Yeah, but that d-d-doesn’t mean I-I-I won’t th-th-this time!”

Riley remembered how she only colored her art when her dad was around. When he died she stopped adding color in anything. She remembered her dad, a tall and cheerful man who loved his family more than anything.

But things change.

An hour passed, it was now 10:30 of the night and Villainous was now playing on the tv.

Riley yawns, drawing in ink like always and glancing at her soon to be step father. He was watching the spanish cartoon intently, chuckling whenever Dr. Flug did something goofy.

The front door opens, footsteps sounding as they made their way to the living room.

“Oh, hey, love!” Her mother says, walking in and heading straight to Dylan to give him a kiss.

“Hey, Lori!” He chuckles when she grins at him before she glances at her daughter and sneers at her.

She still doesn’t forgive me..

Riley sighs, looking away from her mother and to the tv. Black Hat was advertising some kind of villain summer getaway.

Lori Lawrence hated her daughter. She didn’t hate her for no reason, no, she hated her because Riley’s father had died two years earlier in search of a perfect birthday gift for their wonderful talented daughter. They had gotten a phone call at 1 in the morning and apparently some guy hit him with his car after looking down at his phone. Lori had fallen into depression, not eating or sleeping. Whenever Riley went near her she’d scream and yell at her, telling her that it was her fault. That if she didn’t exist then he wouldn’t have left the house and he wouldn’t have gotten ran over.

And as she got better, she started to be gone. Longer than the day before. She had left, once, for a month. She never answered the phone when it was her daughter. Luckily for Riley, Dylan soon came into the picture. He had added some happiness in her life as well as Mandy.

“I’m going to b-bed.” she mutters, standing up and making her way to her room with her sketchbook in hand.

It wasn’t her fault that her dad wanted to make her happy.

But it still hurt the sixteen year old that her mom blamed her for her dad’s death.

That night Riley lay awake in her twin bed. This wasn’t the first time, she’s had insomnia since that fateful night. But she always ended up asleep by midnight.

She glances at her phone, the screen illuminating the room for a couple seconds as she reads the time. 3:13 it read, before turning off.

The sound of footsteps in the hall got her attention, shuffling and breathing passing her room. She knew it wasn’t her mother or Dylan, they were out at some bar getting drunk. With a shaky sigh, Riley pulled the duvet off of her and sat up, stretching a bit before making her way to her door.

The shuffling stopped as soon as she opened the door but she heard glass drop in the kitchen, and the ‘crunch’ of walking over the glass.

Taking in a deep breath, Riley quietly makes her way to the kitchen. There was part of a glass plate lying on the wooden floor, the other half smashed into bits all over the floor. No one was in the kitchen but once the young teen looked out the window her heart sped up and she felt the color drain from her face.

There was a tall man under a lamp post, all other light on the street gone other than the one that hit him. He wore a suit, and he wouldn’t have freaked Riley out much if she hadn’t noticed that he had no face. Tentacles came out of his back and he was ‘staring’ at Riley.

He tilted his head when she quickly clutched her chest, her heart beating fast and her throat closing from the fear.

The light quickly turns off, darkness taking over the street and he was gone.

Riley was too busy trying to control her breathing to realizes that she fell to her knees on top of the glass shards, her vision was getting blurry and she only heard static before she passed out.

“What’s w-wrong with y-you?”

Mandy jumps, the fluffy haired girl visibly deflating in relief when she sees the ink artist. Riley noticed her tear filled eyes and quickly hugs Mandy.

“What’s w-wrong?” Riley asks again, more quietly this time.

“My parents.. They.. Kicked me out..” Mandy burst into tears in her friend’s arms.

“You c-c-can stay w-w-with me i-i-if you’d like.” Riley said.

Mandy had really strict parents who usually made her do what they want. They had disowned one of Mandy’s older brothers just because he was bisexual so Riley didn’t really question why they would kick out Mandy.

“Are you sure? What about your mom and Dylan?” Mandy looked up at the brunette, “I don’t want to be a burden.” Riley smiles at her.

“Don’t worry about it, Mands. They’re buh-both guh-guh-gonna be gone f-fo-for a month to Hawaii. T-to make u-up the h-honeymoon the-they never had.” Riley rolls her eyes, slowly letting go of the shorter female, “My mom c-can’t s-say anything a-about it, she’s ne-never home anyways.”

“Okay, thank you so much,” Mandy smiles, her eyes were now puffy, “If it’s okay, can you drive me to your place then? My parents didn’t let me get any of my things..”

“Y-y-yeah! I’ll text you whu-what my car looks like.”

“What do you have after lunch again?” Mandy asks, putting her backpack on.

“I-I-I have a-a-art, dummy!” Riley giggled as Mandy facepalms.

“I’ll see you later then, Riles.” Mandy says, walking out the door.

“Hey, R-R-Riley!” Devin, the school douche says as she passes by her, shoving her to the side as he made his way to his seat. The art teacher walked in shortly after and started taking role. Then he began speaking about drawing something christmas themed because the finals were coming up.

She’s been drawing the creature she’s been seeing.

Tall man with no facial features, just a pale white face, and tentacles coming out of him.

She hasn’t stopped seeing him.

Three times now.

That’s how many times she’s seen the creature in the past two months.

The second time he had been standing on her front porch and she had noticed him through a window.

The third was at school, she was busy trying to finish her Lit Writ homework outside of class and had looked up to see him a couple yards away.

They always ended with her passing out.

And slowly Riley noticed some other things appearing.

Jeff the Killer had shown up in her room the night before.

But he didn’t kill her, no, he just stood at the foot of her bed and stared down at her. He had slowly made his way to stand next to her before he whispered the words, ‘Go to sleep’, gently tracing a smile on the younger girl’s lips and up to her cheeks before she passed out.

Riley looks down at her sketchbook, opening it up and adding more ink to the newest drawing.

She was drawing Jeff this time, just in ink, her emotions going through her and onto the page.

She sighed, glancing down at her hands that were covered in ink. The sticky dark substance was covering her arm, all the way up to her elbows.

Strange.. She thinks, staring at her arms before going back to the sketchbook.

“He said something christmas themed, you stuttering freak!” Mandy’s boyfriend slams his hand on her sketchbook, laughing at his own comment before he quickly throws her pens and sketchbook to the floor.

It’s going to be a long day.. Riley thinks, glaring at the male before picking up her supplies.

Two hours later, Riley and Mandy were in her home eating leftovers from the night before.

“Hey, why are your arms covered in ink?” Mandy asked the quiet girl, watching her inking a drawing that she recognized as Jeff the Killer.

“I-I don’t know. It won’t co-come off. I b-blame Devin and his fuh-fuh-friends. I have spanish with th-them and tha-that class always ha-ha-has me asleep by the e-end so..”

Mandy nods, watching Riley get up and walk to the living room.

It was lunch again, Riley was in the art room eating and drawing. The art teacher told her to try and get the project done so she decided to just do it at lunch. It’s been a month, the ink on her arms has only spread up her body, her legs and arms were dripping ink everywhere and she often spit out ink. She sighs, tugging the sleeves of her plaid shirt down more. Her mom had arrived two nights ago but left in the morning. Riley stares at the drawing, wanting to color it but deciding against it.

A yell made her whip her head up, her bangs covering an eye as she stared at the door. After a couple seconds and hearing another yell followed by laughter, she quickly got up and walked to the door.

Was that Mandy? Her only thought. Her heart beat sped up and she felt the ink dripping faster.

Taking a long and deep breath, Riley quietly opened the metal door. The sight made her angry, the sight of her best friend in pain making her hate Devin more than ever.

Her blood boiled at the sight of Devin lifting his hand to smack Mandy again, tears were streaming down her cheeks and Riley could see the red outlining of a handprint on Mandy’s cheek.

Devin’s friends were surrounding them, two turning to see who opened a door.

Riley felt the ink fall to the floor, but instead of hearing the drip drop of liquid, she heard a ‘clang’.

The kind that metal hitting the floor makes.

Riley looked down, noticing that it was a knife; a long bladed knife with a dark handle and it looked like the thing was melting.

It didn’t take long for Riley to notice that it was made of ink and that’s why it was dripping.

A ‘smack’ was heard, followed by laughter again and Riley picked up the knife, looking up and glaring at Devin and his friends.

“Let her go.”

Devin looked startled and looked over at Riley for a second. Mandy stood next to him, tears rolling down her face and a trembling lip.

The sight made Riley even angrier than before.

Devin rolled his eyes and nodded his head at the tallest kid in his ‘gang’.

Riley recognizes him as Julio, the douche who’s been making fun of her stutter all year. Anger burned through Riley’s veins and she felt like she was melting because of it.

“What the fuck is happening to your face?” Devin gaped as Riley tilted her head in slight confusion, “it’s melting!” Devin took a step back. Julio made a disgusted sound but didn’t back down, just stood in front of the ‘melting’ girl.

Julio took a step back, making Riley whip her head in his direction before a feeling started to form inside Riley. She knew what the feeling was, knowing it was not a feeling but an urge. Something that she really craved. A low growl sounded, coming past her lips made Julio take a step back one again. Riley then launched forward, stabbing and punching the teenage boy in front of her.

Nothing could stop her from hurting him, her anger only growing as she sliced at his body, the crimson blood oozing out of the cuts and onto the floor.

Riley felt something in her brain snap, wondering if it was her sanity before a huge grin starts to take place on her face.

The teenagers in front of her stared in terror, not knowing how to react to what they were seeing.

Riley’s irises had changed to cut pies, similar to the old Pac-Man, and her mouth was stretched up to her ears in a Cheshire cat like grin. Her teeth had sharpened. Ink oozed down her face, coving an eye as she shoved the tall teen against a wall, her knife long forgotten. Something flowed down Riley’s forehead, covering her eyes till the only thing she saw was the dark oozing color of ink

Her arm starts taking a different form, the ink crawling up and forming a long spiked spear. The boy she had against the wall sobbing. Riley felt her grin widen even more at the sounds he was making, inky drool slowly falling to the ground as she lifted her arm up and stabbed him in the abdomen. She didn’t stop there though, no, Riley couldn’t stop the anger she felt.

Angry because her mother hasn’t texted her.

Angry because Mandy wouldn’t defend herself from her boyfriend.

Angry because Devin was running away, phone in hand and calling the cops.

Angry because the boy under her was surprisingly still alive.

So she did what only her biggest role model did.

She turned to where she had abandoned her knife earlier, her arm lifting up and shooting a strand of ink at it and yanking it towards her.

That was just like spiderman! She turned back to the kid who was still clinging on to life, her giant grin turning to a huge sharp toothed sneer as she started stabbing him repeatedly in anger and madness. The only thing that stopped her murderous rage was when the police arrived. They found her sitting next to the body, that Cheshire grin once again on her face as she watched her masterpiece.

Julio Henderson had fifty three stab wounds, thirty in his abdomen and the rest either on his chest or throat. His face had dark bruises on it from Riley’s punches and he had deep claw marks on his arms and cheek. The cops stared at Riley, hunched over and giggling as she talked to something that wasn’t there.

It was hard for the cops to get the girl into their car but once they did she was driven down to the police station. Once she had arrived they had dragged her to a room and sat her down.

“Full name?”

“Riley Diana L-Law-Lawrence.”

“Age?”

“Si-si-sixteen.”

“Family?”

“Lori Lawrence, m-m-mother, Dylan Greene, h-h-her boyfriend.”

“Lori Lawrence? The lawyer?” The man stared at Riley with wide brown eyes. He was an average man with combed back hair and a frown. Riley nods.

“We didn’t know she had a daughter.”

“S-she doesn’t s-speak of m-me muh-much..” he makes a face, something that looks like a ‘I can see why’ look.

“Motive for attacking?”

“Devin ha-has b-been abusing m-my best friend. His fuh-fuh-friend had th-the nerve to do it a-as well and I snapped.”

He nods, writing something down before getting up. Riley started giggling to herself, looking down at her cuffed hands before bursting into laughter. The sound of her joy echoing through the halls.

When the man returned, all he found was a couple of drops of ink and the cuffs laying on the chair, the echo of Riley’s laughter sounding through the room as the man ran out in a panic.

NEW KILLER ON THE LOOSE

There’s a new killer on the loose, many know her as Riley D. Lawrence, the daughter of Lori Lawrence, the lawyer. Lori is devastated at the thought of her daughter going insane and is retiring from her job in hopes of waiting for her daughter to come home. No one knows where Riley is but we do know that she is near. Last night a boy by the name of Justin was murdered by Riley, his organs were hanging from the chandelier and his upper body was outside of his home. The words ‘The Artist’ were written on his room’s wall multiple times. It appears that she won’t be leaving anytime soon.

A scoff rang through the kitchen, the sound of a fork scraping a plate heard. Lori glared at the paper, glancing down at her phone that marked the time.

11:22

In half an hour she would be leaving on a date with Dylan.

“She just wants attention..” she muttered, standing up and turning to go to the living room.

A giant puddle of ink stopped her.

Lori stared at it in confusion, that had not been there when she walked into the kitchen. The ink was bubbling, dark huge bubbles of ink and after a couple seconds a giant bubble appeared and popped.

Lori stared in terror at the sight. It was a girl, with long wavy chocolate brown locks and hazel eyes. But her irises were cut pies, like the old Pac-Man or Mickey Mouse and she sported a Cheshire cat like grin that went up to her ears.

The Artist glared at her mother, her grin ever present as her mother took two steps back in fear.

“Hi, muh-mommy.” she whispered, ominously.

There was another figure standing in the shadows, shaggy burnt hair and white leathery skin making Lori scream as she realized her daughter had a partnership with Jeff the Killer.

Riley wasted no time in stabbing her mother, a cackle leaving her lips as she stabbed her repeatedly.

Lori Lawrence was dead.

And The Artist was ready to go after many other people who had ruined her life.

3 notes · View notes

virmillion · 6 years ago

Text

Ibytm - T minus 23 seconds

Masterpost - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter - ao3

Words: 2,553

With only two days left to go before the new office is finally open and he can at last return to work, Logan is bored out of his mind. He tilts his head up from his position on the floor with his feet up on the wall and looks at Virgil, who shrugs.

“Just because I know art history doesn’t mean I know anything about whatever modern scene you’re trying to peddle. How should I know what you want to do for fun?”

“We’ve got a functional car now, right? We might as well use it.”

“To do what? The only places we go outside of work are, like, the park. And Patton’s house, I guess, but I don’t know why you’d use your car to go hassle him.”

“We could just get in the car and drive, see where we end up?”

“As if there isn’t literally an endless list of places we could go or random directions we could take.”

“Not like we have any better options. Not like you’re suggesting any, for that matter.”

“You have absolutely got me there, my dude.”

Logan takes this as the most solid of agreements he could hope for and pushes his foot off the wall, doing half of a backwards somersault to get to his knees. Virgil, in a much less graceful manner (despite whatever dance experience Logan is convinced he’s hiding from him), tumbles off the couch and lands in a heap on the floor. He luckily seems to find his footing by the time Logan pockets the keys and insurance papers, doing a spectacular job of not tripping on his way down the stairs.

Logan clicks the lock button on the fob, reassuring himself it still works despite having just gotten it, y’know, yesterday. As he presses the unlock button on the handle, Virgil yanks on the passenger door at exactly the right moment to re-lock his door. Logan sighs and presses it again before sliding into his seat.

For a used lease, it isn’t in the worst possible shape. A few tears in the leather of the seat, some bleach stains, some scuff marks, but certainly good enough that it won’t crap out on them in the middle of a busy highway. At the very least, Kathy’s deal regarding further interests in a motorcycle was more than fair. Logan is pretty sure this car will survive the next couple years in one piece, anyway, so it’s hardly worth worrying about.

Virgil does not agree with this sentiment.

“What if that spot didn’t show up in the trust papers and they charge you for it when you turn it in?”

“Then we’ll be out thirty bucks and the next lessee will enjoy a cleaner car.”

“What if you lock the keys in the car and your phone dies and your late for work?”

“Then I politely ask the nearest shop if I could borrow their phone for roadside assistance.”

“What if you forget the number?”

“Google.”

“What if—”

“Virgil.”

“What?”

Logan sweeps a hand around to indicate the parking lot, from which they still haven’t moved an inch. “If any of that happens, we will deal with it when it comes.” He holds up his phone and swipes away the dormant background apps. “Full battery.” He scratches at a stain on the console with his fingernail, picking it off with ease. “We can always clean it ourselves.” He takes Virgil’s hand in his own, feeling the bands between them. “And if nothing else, we’ve got each other.”

Virgil nods, clearly still unconvinced, but reaches for the aux cord and plugs in his phone. “Dibs on music hijackery.”

“I don’t think that’s quite how dibs work,” Logan says, but he doesn’t protest when Alec Benjamin’s voice pours from the speakers. As they approach a traffic light, Logan assigns each direction a number—left one, right two, straight three. “Pick a number, one through nine.”

“Seven.” Logan clicks on his indicator and pulls into the left turn lane. Once the next light pops up—two directions with a one way street cutting through the middle—Logan reassigns the numbers, one through ten, with going straight being designated as odd numbers.

“Pick a number, one through ten.”

“Four.”

Logan turns, quirking one eyebrow as Virgil rapid-fire skips through a solid fifteen songs in a row, only allowed a discordant opening beat to play each time.

“One through three,” Virgil grumbles.

“Now that’s no fun,” Logan chides lightly. “Where’s the variety, the panache? And three. One through ten.”

“Eight.” Logan sees the word on his lips more than he hears it, turning right as some song about tongues by a horizon band starts blaring from the speakers. The short stints of number selections continue for a good twenty minutes or so, with only the vaguest occasional commentary from Logan, before Virgil speaks up again.

“I’m getting close to the end of my repertoire.” Mind you, he’s played a maximum of seven songs to completion by this point.

“You’ve hardly played anything yet. How many songs do you have?”

“Five hundred forty-two.”

“And you only wanted to listen to seven.”

“Correct.”

“So why not delete the other five thirty-five?”

“’Cause I’m not in the mood to listen to them now , but I might be later.”

“Fair enough. One through nine.”

“Five.”

Logan drives straight, eyeing the strip mall fast approaching on the right. “How about we go to Ikea?”

“Why would we go to Ikea?”

“Could be fun, wandering around and getting lost in the aisles and all that manner of doing. Plus, hey, we could always get some furniture.”

“Right, because the apartment isn’t crowded enough already. Surely more things will fit in the same space.” Logan considers this and shrugs, but nevertheless he flicks on his right turn indicator and pulls into the parking lot. And a spot not too far from the doors. Nice.

Virgil smacks the back of his hand into Logan’s chest when he moves to cut the engine. “Wait, there’s only twenty-five seconds left in this song.” So they sit and they wait for the song to play itself out, Virgil bouncing along and Logan watching how the longer pieces of his dyed hair claw past his undercut to the nape of his neck. “Okay, now we can go.” Virgil climbs out of the car first, already bounding for the entrance by the time Logan locks the doors behind them.

“Someone’s in a hurry,” Logan remarks, scrubbing at a smudge on his glasses with his shirt. He squints at Virgil’s blurry silhouette, which is nearly to the undefined entrance already. “Since when did furniture shopping excite you?”

“Since I remembered that Ikea has, like, the best cinnamon rolls.”

“I never agreed to making any purchases today.”

“You never agreed to making any furniture purchases today. You never said cinnamon rolls were off the table, so hurry up.”

This is how Logan finds himself sandwiched between a family of five in front of him and an elderly lady behind him. Virgil, the little snot, lingers at the edge of the line, nowhere near as cramped as Logan. More than a little squished as he does so, Logan leans over to Virgil and mumbles, “I am not getting you the six pack.”

Virgil hardly seems to hear him, pawing through his wallet (Logan’s wallet, that is) for some bills on the west side of crumpled. “Yeah, sure, cool deal my dude.”

Singular cinnamon roll in hand, Virgil follows Logan from the counter some ten minutes later, the latter being extra careful not to touch the parts of his husband’s hand that are drenched in sugar.

“Skhur khoo gon’t wah skhung?” Virgil asks—well, that’s what it sounds like he asks, but Logan likes to think himself pretty darn decent at reading context clues. That is, the context clues of Virgil’s full mouth and the way he’s prodding the roll in Logan’s direction.

“I’m good,” Logan says, holding up his hands as if to calm a rabid child. Virgil shrugs and tears off another piece, smearing icing across his chin in the process, and Logan wonders whether he should feel enamoured or disgusted. Maybe a little bit of both.

By the time they reach what Virgil referred to as ‘guh koch uk guh gnazje’—’the top of the maze,’ as Logan managed to parcel out—the roll is completely gone and Virgil is licking his fingers clean, pulling them from his lips with a pop .

“You are incorrigible,” Logan informs Virgil, watching him wipe his fingers off on the hem of his shirt.

“Not like anyone else’ll notice.” Virgil zips up his jacket and holds his arms out to the sides, as if to say tada to a nonexistent audience. “See? Good as gone.”

“I suppose.” Logan glances at the arrows underfoot, tracing their path up to a map standee. “Let’s try to figure out where we want to go before we get completely lost.”

“Aw, that’s no fun,” Virgil grumbles. He pokes at an area on the map. “If we’re gonna do it the cheater’s way, I want to hit up the office and study displays.”

Logan nods, dragging a finger along the picture and tapping the you are here dot. “Okay, that shouldn’t be too impossible. We just need to go through bedding here, past the living room section there, and we can bypass the kitchen part with this shortcut here.”

“Works for me,” Virgil says, already a good fifteen feet away. Logan exhales and moves quickly to catch up, following Virgil down the winding path and wondering how long it’ll take them to get completely lost.

“Hey, wait, hold up,” Virgil says suddenly, stopping sharply enough that Logan has to feint right to avoid smacking his face between Virgil’s shoulder blades.

“What is it?” Virgil tilts his head toward a display room in the bedding section, with several blankets and a surplus of pillows and some glow in the dark stars on the wall and a bedside table and—“Why did you stop me for this?”

“’Cause that could be us.” Virgil’s voice takes on a strange quality, sort of airy and wistful, a combination that completely baffles Logan.

“I don’t think I quite follow you.”

“See how normal it is? It’s literally just a bed with some decorations but, like, that’s how some people’s homes actually are. That’s the kind of thing that we could make our normal.”

“I don’t think I quite understand what you’re trying to get across here.”

Virgil gives an exasperated sigh, glances about them, and launches himself at the bed. Logan freezes, his hands caught somewhere between wringing themselves out and trying to stop him. Posing atop the bed, Virgil peeks out at Logan from between his elbows and squints his eyes so they almost look sleepy—more squinty than sleepy, but Logan gets the point well enough.

“This is an actual, genuine, legitimate thing that we could have, and it could just—just be. ”

“I don’t think—”

“Then stop thinking.” Virgil props himself up on his elbows and stares at Logan, more than long enough to make him uncomfortable. (This admittedly doesn’t take very long, but still.) “There’s no, like, grand point I’m trying to make here. I’m just saying that this display is something that some people actually have, and it’s manufactured, yeah, it’s whatever, but it’s still something that exists, and something we could have, something that—it could—I don’t know, I think I lost my point somewhere in there. I can’t really put it into words, but d’you know what I mean? Don’t answer that.” His face taking on a stunning shade of crimson, Virgil slides off the bed and speedwalks to the next department.

“Well, hey, hang on,” Logan calls, jogging to catch up. When he does (by no small amount of effort), he has to hold Virgil’s shoulder in place to keep him from getting away again. “Just because I don’t get it doesn’t mean it’s invalid.”

“Doesn’t mean it is valid, either.” Virgil is staring intently at the ground, as if it might get up and run away when he’s not looking.

“Okay, so then let me try.”

“Try what?”

Rather than answer, Logan steps off the arrow-lined path and stands beside an elbow couch covered in decorative pillows. “This could be us, too, right? A normal, everyday thing that doesn’t mean much to anyone else, but it could be a sort of symbol of the life we choose to forge together? Was that what you meant about the bedding display?”

“Kind of, but not really, but you tried your best.” Virgil stifles a laugh as Logan perches on the arm of the couch and rests his chin on his fist. “What are you doing, dork?”

“I’m thinking…” Logan mumbles, drawing out the second syllable. “I’m thinking… I’m thinking…”

“You are so weird.” Virgil shifts his weight between his feet for a moment, then bolts down the path, easily escaping Logan’s sight as the latter scrambles to get off the couch arm without tripping over himself. Logan weaves between the scattered clumps of people doing, you know, real serious shopping, doing his best not to full out sprint in his efforts to catch up with Virgil’s silhouette as it disappears around the next corner every time he gets it back in his sights.

“Stop doing that!” Logan groans once he finally reaches Virgil, who appears entranced by the fancier displays of kitchenware. “We were supposed to take a shortcut back there.”

“Yeah, but maybe I wanted to look at utensils and stuff.” Virgil spins around and holds up a wooden block shaped like a porcupine, its spines consisting of all manner of forks and spoons and knives. “Look at this one! Her name is Polly.”

Logan cranes his neck to look for a tag declaring as much, electing not to suggest that a better name might be ‘Caesar.’ “Where does it say that?”

“In my heart.” Virgil places the porcupine back on the shelf and continues down the aisle, now checking out a nesting set of measuring cups.

“We don’t need kitchenware stuff, you know.” Logan is confident that his words are falling on dear ears, but he continues his lecture anyway. “We rarely cook anything so complex as to require new tools. We don’t even use the ones we already have.”

“What’s your point?” The question seems too halfhearted to be anything more than vague encouragement for Logan to keep talking as Virgil pokes his nose into a standing hutch display. “Hey, look how nice this wood is! Even better than the frames at the museum. D’you think they’d give me a raise if I went in and criticized their choice of woodwork for displaying the art?”

“Probably not, since you don’t have a legal salary in the first place.” Logan picks up a set of cups, lifting them over his head to inspect the undersides by the fluorescent beam lights.

“Fair enough.” With no further warning, Virgil backs up from the hutch and darts down the path into the next section. Logan sighs, not bothering to call out another ‘stop doing that’ before setting down the cups and chasing after him, narrowly dodging two women leaning their heads together to admire a kitchen display.

#labhwrites #mine #i'll bring you the moon #ibytm

5 notes · View notes