#other than that normal people who like derry girls have taste

[weedle-testaburger]

the pain of being into sout park is wanting to do aus of all the gay things without pissing off the normal fans of said gay things

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

Deja vu

summary: Can you do one where the reader is bills daughter and pennywise shows up as her and scares bill and when bill comes back home her hugs his daughter really tight

The trail of blood leads up the stairs, two doors down to the left. Bill’s enthralled with following it, feels something beside himself leading him to the end point, because logically he knows this is Neibolt. Getting separated from your friends does nothing good, is proven to be deadly in Derry, but he’s enchanted by his gut feeling inching him closer and closer to the end of the track. He can’t say he walked up here with in a clear state of mind, can’t pinpoint the exact moment he decided to do this, but he’s come so far, he might as well see it through.

Like the logical part of his brain warned him for, the outcome of heeding his gut is a macabre discovery.  

Bill catches wind of the foul smell, worse than the sandwich he once accidently left in his trailer and only got around to tossing out two weeks later, and it’s present so strongly Bill covers his nostrils with the sleeve of his button-up.

He hears shadowy screams slithering up from downstairs, Ben if he’s not mistaken, and the urge to run back to his friends becomes overwhelming, breaking the spell put upon him and a hair away from coming to their aide, but then he sees a yellow rainslicker on the floor, and a hand poking through it.

His first inkling is that Pennywise is imitating Georgie once again, a safe sure idea to agonizingly torture Bill, the guilt of not saying yes to Georgie’s request of going out with him cement blocks tied to his back and following him around, an annoying fly he can’t shake off. But as Bill steps in the room it’s not him, the feminine outlook of the corpse reveal as much. It’s not entirely clear who exactly it is at first, the body so decomposed and every open wound filled with maggots munching away at the flesh that had once been a living human being, deteriorating the body further.

‘Dad’, a gust of wind blows around, the words so nontangible but picked up by Bill none the less, and his eyes widen once he connects the dots closely examines the body. It’s his daughter. It’s Y/N, it’s his little girl.

The scream tearing up his vocal cords rattle his body, clattering to the floor in heap of panic and disbelieve next to Y/N’s corpse, his hand hovering over her cadaver without a single point of contact. ‘No’, He screeches, brushing a piece of hair out of her face, shrinking back when Y/N’s face misses parts of the tissues a face is normally made up off, her eye socket ripped away by enormous teeth sunk in by the soft muscles to tear it out. The outside world blurs to a white noise static, and Bill’s terrified and inconsolable, video feed of her playing around every day from her birth to her youth being erased by the gruesome sight in front of him. Bill will never be able to remember his daughter any other than the way she is right now. The yellow slicker might as well be used as a body bag, for Georgie and now you.

‘No, please. Take me, not her’, Bill begs, hiccuping weeps and repositioning her so she’s hidden away, her face slack in death in the crook of his neck, her open chest, missing her heart and parts of her lunges, squashed against his chest to stop the flow of blood. His longs feel stolen themselves, there’s nothing left to give.

Georgie getting murdered carved away parts of his heart he tried very heart over the years to replace, to keep giving and giving and giving to construct the ideal shape again, and it took a long time and a lot of energy to do so but with your birth, it all slotted itself in place. Bill had someone else to care and protect, but this? Your death was too much. Bill had nothing left to invest in a future.

The larva crawl from Y/N’s body to his, producing a slime that leaves sticky residue underneath Bill’s fingers, but he’s cleaving to her too tight to knock them off.

‘Ow Billy boy’, Pennywise singsongs over his shoulder, a menacing grin dialed up, it’s gloved hand curling around the young girls leg in threat.

‘S-s-stop’, Bill begs, broken down to his absolute core. He shifts to force Pennywise to let go, but the monster easily follows him, is an extra weight against Bill that he has to schlep along.  

‘Do you want to know what she tasted like? She tasted like Georgie did. Innocent and pure, oh but not anymore. She begged for you Billy, for her daddy to save her.’

Bill shake his head solemnly, protecting her body with his own. He dotes her forehead and temple with kisses, his lips loitering around to brush against her blood stricken skin. ‘I’m sorry,’ he cries. ‘I’m s-s-so sorry.’

‘You never told her the truth did you? Never told her that you let Georgie die,  and you let her die. She understood in the end. That her father was a coward.’

Pennywise tightens his grip and hauls your body over to him. Bill, who was unprepared for this, falters in his grip and allows him to do it, but scrambles after you as soon as his can no longer hold you in his arms.

‘Stop please.’

It winks, opening it’s wide array of teeth and sinks them down your legs, the protesting, piercing scream a background noise. The skin breaks effortlessly, a patch of skin Pennywise devours before the very eyes of the girls farther, massaging it’s stomach like one does after a full coursed meal.

‘Tasty’, Pennywise taunts, licking the edges of his mouth to consume the leftover bits of ichor. A battle wail erupts from Bill, fingers digging in his palm so hard incisions form, and he leaps at IT, mind fully in on the idea of strangling the brute the way he did his daughter and brother.

But, with a parting gleam, Pennywise vanishes from the scene, ducking back into it’s layer. Bill falls face first on the floor, the thunk of him hitting the floor splits open his lips, and then glances back to where your carcass posed seconds ago. It’s no longer there, and neither is the yellow slicker or the maggots that survived of your flesh.

He heaves, crying not faltering for a moment, but things in his head do begin to clear up. As far as Bill knows, Pennywise has no power or authority over any place outside of Derry, and you were not in Derry. He had talked to you the day before as you where getting ready for a sleepover, unaware of the danger you father was preparing to face. The whole thing was a trick orchestrated by Pennywise, Bill can see why, but how a thing can be so vile and evil remains shocking to him.

The doubt etched in his brain leaves him restless, are you sure she’s safe? plaguing him as he tries to stop crying on the floor. The rest of the losers find him there, frozen in place until the shake him aware and remind him of the task that needs to be completed.

-----------

Bill balls the entire way home, ignoring the stares and pointed fingers he’s the receiving end of, people recognizing him as the writer who can’t stick an ending for the life of him, because he learned from a young age that crying is crying and should be done right. His mother never bothered keeping up appearances. Not to the outside world or to the family, and Bill’s suppressed crying still made her whimper no matter how subdued Bill tried to be for her, and got him punished more then once.

At home, Audra is waiting for him, her face a variety of anger, concern, and relief that his back home in one piece. Even without the full story, Audra knew something bad was taking place. He kisses her, a quick peck to the mouth, dismissing the way her red lipstick reminds him of Pennywise eating his daughter as lunch and demands to know where Y/N is.

Audra looks taken aback as to why Bill doesn’t make any moves to talk other first, but then sees how red Bill looks, and tells him Y/N is upstairs in his study.

Bill runs up the stairs like a maniac, tripping over the top two top trudges but stabilizing himself before he stumbles, again. His office is a large, spacious room he resides in at times he’s writing, though he walks around while writing frequently too, and it’s a forbidden space for both Audra and Y/N.

That why your face falls when Bill opens the door and catches you in the act of putting back a notepad you stole from in there. You look positively stricken and spooked, scared of what your dad might say about you snuffling in his man cave when you’re not allowed in, and Bill promptly starts crying again.

You being scared of him, for any reason it might, is terrible and not something Bill ever wants to happen again.

‘Dad?’ You ask confused, standing up and walking his way. ‘Are you okay?’

He swoops in without any indication, pulling you in his arms and enclosing all around you. ‘I l-l-love you so much, you know that right?’

You nod resolutely, and Bill can’t help but think that you don’t know half of the amount he has saved for you. The longitude is impassable, the amount of weight the love carries immovable. He’s so grateful to have you in his arms, to have you be safe and secure, and with parents who love and support you. He smacks a kiss on the top of your head, breathing in the scent of your shampoo on the contrary of the stench of a rotting body and allows himself to cry and cry and cry. At some point, you join in, sad that your father is sad and mulling over what might make him feel happier.

‘You’ll tell me anything that’s b-b-bothering you right?’ He asks after five minutes of utter silence, roughing your hair out of place with a watery laugh.

‘Like what?’

‘Everything, anything. Bullies, problems at school, if I’m doing something wrong.’ Bill retreats backwards but keep you close enough that you’re still in each other’s arms. ‘You know you can t-t-tell me if it’s something I’m doing right? I don’t ever want you to think you h-h-have to hide from me.’

‘I don’t, and you’re not doing anything wrong dad. I love you.’

‘I love you too, and I’ll let nothing ever, ever hurt you.’

[agentkgent]

Fic: If You Want It Back

Read on AO3

13-year-old Richie/Eddie fluff because my heart needs it (apparently my boys taking care of each other is my favorite thing in the world??); This is probably a multi-chapter slowburn deal that I may or may not have the patience to complete; We’ll see!

Pros: Intimate medical care, sleepy cuteness, innocent sleepovers

Cons (Warnings): Mild blood, profanity, nightmares, sexual humor dialogue

- - -

Eddie | 13

“Would you stop being so fuckin loud? It doesn’t take much for her to check on me,” Eddie whisper-shouts.

Richie yanks his momentarily-stuck leg past the threshold of the window seal. “Dude, she’s used to me sneaking into the house late at night,” he smirks. “She’ll just be jealous-”

“Shut up, Richie.”

It’s dark - at least 11 o’clock at night in the shithole that is Derry. Fall is coming and nighttime is colder than it’s been for months.

He had been waiting up for Richie in his second-floor bedroom, gently lit by an old desk lamp. While his room had always been pristine and prepared for a Sonia Kaspbrak inspection, it’s fallen into a slightly less-than-perfect state the past few days while he preoccupied himself taking every possible moment to join the Losers in their final days with Beverly; final days of their summer vacation.

A few items of clothing lay on the floor near the bed, a jacket strewn across the corner of the bedspread. Socks hanging inside-out on top of a pair of Converse sneakers near the door.

Richie stands upright and tugs his hooded sweatshirt gently, fixing the zipped sides. Without pause, strides across the room to Eddie’s closet and pulls out his (well, not really his , but no one else uses it) comforter and pillow. “Move your shit, Eds.”

He scoffs. “Don’t fucking act like your room isn’t a pigstye.” And starts to grab clothing from the floor and throw it to a vacant corner, avoiding using his cast-covered limb.

“You couldn’t clean up for company?” Richie teases while he tosses the pillow onto the floor near the bed and unfolds the comforter.

“Yeah, well,” He begins, annoyed. “I’ve been distracted by the giant festering garbage wound on my hand, thanks to Bill. It’s freaking disgusting. He just fucking picked up a piece of glass and started cutting us with it. What the hell were we thinking? We’re all gonna get tetanus and shit.” He’s speaking faster, the horror setting in again. “What if the infection spreads to my arm? What if one of us has AIDS? Now we all have AIDS because Bill wanted to make a stupid fucking blood oath. Why couldn’t we have just created a secret handshake-”

“Shhh!” Richie throws his index finger over his mouth.

Eddie swats a hand over his own mouth in alert, realizing his own volume. The two wait a moment in silence, listening for a reaction, eyeing the bedroom door. They wait to hear footsteps in the hall or creaking on wood floors.

Nothing. He exhales in relief and continues, a bit calmer. “I don’t think there’s enough penicillin in the world to prevent me from getting an infection from that fucking piece of glass he used.” He watches Richie de-shevel his hoodie and kick off his sneakers. “Did you clean up your hand?”

Richie half-shrugs. “Yeah, I’m good. I washed my hands after I took a piss.”

His jaw drops. He thinks he might literally scream. “WHAT THE HELL, RICHIE?” He quietly shouts, his voice squeaking.

He can’t tell if Richie’s joking or not but he definitely DIDN’T see any kind of bandage over the moron’s hand, so he scrambles urgently to his desk’s designated medical drawer and digs out all the necessities. Fucking Trashmouth WOULD bring infection and sickness into his bedroom, goddamn it. Alcohol, gauze pads, antibiotic cream, yep. Medical tape, gauze wrap, rubber gloves...

“Jesus Christ, chill out,” Richie protests, a shit eating grin on his face from Eddie’s urgency. “I’ll deal with it tomorrow.”

“No!” He points a finger at his stupid friend. “You are not gonna touch my stuff and leave blood and puss and infection and whatever-the-fuck-else in my bedroom.” He crudely dumps his First Aid supplies across his bed and yanks Richie to sit next to him. He leans back down towards the floor next to the head of his bed, grabs a flashlight, flicks it on, and slams it into Richie’s un-injured hand. “Hold this so I can see, idiot.”

It’d been a significant moment, the seven of them holding hands; committing to each other and to keeping It from hurting more people. Although they laughed off the tension at Stanley’s “I hate you,” and lightly talked about plans for the following day, something about the situation made it feel melancholy. The weight of their promise had also felt… a little suffocating, to be honest.

He needed to hug his best friend. It sprouted from deep in his gut and drove his movement. Almost instinctively, Richie opened his arms for a hug and patted Eddie’s back affectionately.

He finally took wide steps across the weeds-covered ground to head home, and turned to wave goodbye to his Losers. His attention landed on Richie, though. And Richie’s expression was… dopey? His huge eyes were fixed on Eddie, but it looked like he was far away. He was sort-of smiling? But wasn’t entirely focused behind his thick glasses. Eddie didn’t read into it too much. It was a heavy day.

Two hours later, the Kaspbrak residence phone rang. “Hello?” He answered.

“Spuhgett!” A poor Italian impression came through the line. “Come over and stay the night!”

“Richie, really?”

“Yeah man, let’s dive into some new issues of Hustler and howl into the night! Ow OW!”

He held the phone down in shock, the asshole’s howling audible from the handset. He flung his head to either side, looking for his mother, and then hissed into the phone. “You can’t say shit like that on the phone, asshole! My mom could be listening! She’s been on me nonstop.”

“Dude, that’s some kinky incest shit. But pretty hot.”

At this point, Eddie was confident his mother wasn’t listening on the line. That would have been her opportunity to shut down the conversation. “You’re fucking disgusting. I’m hanging up.”

“Come on! I’ve got some comics I need to catch up on, let’s hang out!”

He sighed. “Rich, my mom’s basically put me on house arrest.”

“I can come over there, if that’s easier.”

“How is that easier?”

“I’ll climb up to your room from the gate.”

“Wow. Genius.” Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Thank you, I agree.”

“Dude, I’m tired.”

“Alright then, you can fuckin’ sleep, I’ll entertain myself.”

“So then why don’t you just stay home?”

A quiet moment, and then, “Eddieeeee!” Richie faked a whine.

He closed his eyes in defeat. “Fine. But I’m not staying up late. And you need to get out before my mom’s up tomorrow.” He remembered the most important part. “HEY AND you need to wait until it’s been dark for a while or she’ll still be watching TV.”

“Edward, I’m quite familiar with my lady’s nighttime habits. She watches porn ‘til 10 p.m., then I come over, then we do a couple lines, and after you’ve gone to sleep, she sucks my-”

Eddie slammed the phone back on the cradle.

Richie’s hand is now clean and covered, at least until the bandages need to be replaced. Eddie had only gagged once (maybe twice) while cleaning the Trashmouth’s palm. He inspects his handiwork one more time before closing the container of gauze. He takes the flashlight from Richie into his arm along with the impromptu First Aid kit.

“Do you think Bev will come back and see us? Like, visit from Portland?” Richie asks suddenly, looking at his cared-for hand.

Eddie pads across the room. He looks back towards Richie. “I don’t know. I hope so.”

“Come back for more quickies down by the Barrens, probably,” Richie sneers. “Maybe if we’re lucky she’ll let us watch.”

“Ew, dude, what?” He asks. He knows Richie doesn’t mean it, they all genuinely like Beverly. She’s cool and funny and treats them like normal people, which is more than they could say for other girls at school. But who-?

Richie knows what Eddie’s asking. “She and Bill sucked face after we left,” He wiggles his eyebrows.

He isn’t really surprised, he supposes. “Oh,” he says after a moment.

He turns off the desk lamp and walks back towards the bed. Richie scoots carefully until his back is against the wall, and Eddie plops his weight onto the bed, shifting until he’s next to him. They sit quietly for a whole three seconds before Richie continues with his gratuitous humor.

“Or maybe Bill will go see her .” And Richie starts with a dramatic tone of voice. “She might leave her bedroom window open at night for Big Bill, her dear auntie not knowing about the debauchery taking place in their home-”

He shakes his head slightly and ignores Richie. “Do you think Bev remembers Ben kissing her?”

Richie considers the question for a moment.

Everything that transpired in the filthy, dark tunnels beneath Derry had been something of a blur, but they all remembered that moment clearly. They found Beverly in the sewers, floating and white-eyed. She wouldn’t wake up. Ben was terrified. “What’s wrong with her?!” He looked at the others for answers, but no one knew what to do. Then he made a decision. Ben cupped Beverly’s face with both hands, and pressed their lips together, to everyone’s confusion. What the hell was that? ...And then Beverly woke up. Why did it work? Who knows. But it did. Bev mumbled something about ‘January embers’ and was back to normal.

“I don’t know, dude?” Richie dismisses, snatching the flashlight from Eddie’s hand and flicking it off. The whole room becomes immediately darker, only lit by the slightest bit of moonlight coming through the window. “Ben’s a nerd, anyway. Bev may be a Loser, but she’s still hot. And she and Bill like each other.”

“Poor Ben,” Eddie concludes.

“Plenty of fish in the sea, my dear Eds! Benjamin will be just fine,” Richie proclaims.

“Don’t call me ‘Eds.’”

“You love it.” Richie smirks.

“I don’t. And Ben will probably be fine, but YOU sure won’t. No one wants to kiss a Trashmouth.”

“If you only knew, shorty. Half of Derry has tasted my tonsils.”

Eddie smiles widely, preparing to call Richie’s bluff. “Bullshit. You haven’t kissed anyone.”

Richie’s smile drops. He looks into Eddie’s eyes. “Eddie…”

Eddie’s smile drops, too.

Richie continues, leaning in closer. “When are you going to face reality? Your mom and I care about each other very much. The woman has the most talented tongue-”

“Shut UP, Richie!” Eddie swats Richie with a pillow, landing with a muffled whack . Richie laughs quietly to himself.

Another quiet moment, and they’re both looking down at their hands in their laps.

He presses the question. “Rich, really. Have you kissed anyone before?”

It’s a risky question. They talk about girls all the time, but it’s always been something of a distant topic: jokes and celebrity crushes and their classmates. Bill, Stanley, Ben, and Mike always kept things PG. They’d each mentioned having crushes. Of course, Bill talked about kissing Beverly in the 3rd grade school play, something Richie taunted him about ruthlessly. Eddie kept quiet while the others discussed. He’d laugh when they joked or look when they shared photos from magazines, but he stayed away from the subject, afraid to reveal how little experience he had interacting with the opposite sex. Or, interest, honestly.

Richie, on the other hand, basked in loudly telling about his fictional sexual conquests with every female he’d supposedly ever encountered. At every opportunity. No one believed it, but no one bothered to dispute it.

But this was new territory for Eddie. Talking seriously about this stuff. Girls and kissing and feelings. Or rather, Eddie’s complete lack of anything to do with girls and kissing and feelings.

And with Richie, of all people?

But something about the events of the summer of 1989 made their friendship feel less… adolescent.

Richie slides onto his comforter on the floor. Without looking at Eddie, he answers. “No.” He takes off his glasses and tosses them recklessly onto Eddie’s desk.

Eddie expects a follow-up or a joke, but doesn’t hear one. “Me neither.”

“Yeah, that I know, Eddie-bear.”

“Fucking-”

- - -

Eddie dreams of Beverly, alone in the darkness.

He recognizes the horrible place that they’re back in. He’d hoped to never be back there ever again, smelling the piss and shit of Derry, mixed into a nice concoction with blood and remains of Pennywise’s victims.

Bev is a couple feet in front of him, eyes wide open. They’re solid white, no irises or pupils. She’s in the trance again.

Eddie places a hand on either of Bev’s shoulders, shaking her gently. “Shit, Bev! Bev! Beverly! Come on! You can snap out of it again, Bev!” Eddie yells. T hen shaking her with a little more force. She is slack-jawed and unresponsive, facing him blindly. “Guys! Guys, it’s Bev!” He looks around frantically for the other Losers. “She’s zonked out again, what do we do?!”  But they are alone. Matter of fact, he can’t make out any of the terrain around them, either. No water, no drainage pipes, no pile of murder trophies. No ‘new kid’ to wake her up.

Eddie swallows and looks back towards the damsel in distress. If it worked for Ben, maybe it’ll work… for him?  He places a hand on each side of Beverly’s face, squeezes his eyes closed, and gently pulls her towards him, pressing their lips together.

‘Please wake up, please wake up!’ He thinks, trying not to panic about what he’s doing.  And Eddie releases the kiss, letting himself move back a few inches, and opens his eyes.

He’s holding Richie’s face, eyes closed, cheeks flushed, lips slightly pursed and shiny.  Richie’s white eyes fly open, wide and horrified.

“WHAT the fu-” Eddie wakes with a heaving chest.

He’s confused and flustered and about to have a fucking asthma attack. He reaches behind his head to his nightstand and grabs his inhaler, placebo be damned. As he puffs and takes deep breaths, he looks around quickly, reminding his brain that he’s safe in his clean, non-sewer bedroom.

It’s still dark outside, and a little cold. He’s only been asleep for a couple hours. And he’s moved around so much in his nightmare that his comforter has slid onto the floor, ...and is starting to move on its own? Wha-

The comforter folds back. “Eddie?” Richie mumbles, half-asleep.

Eddie yelps and slams his back against the bedroom wall with a thud. Richie tries to shush him and continues, “Whoa! What the fuck?”

He dramatically clutches at his chest and uses his inhaler again. He examines Richie’s alerted expression, making sure his eyes have irises and pupils. Then his eyes glance at Richie’s lips, which are so-slightly parted. And maybe looks a little too long.

“Eddie, are you okay?” Richie climbs onto the bed and places a hand on Eddie’s shoulder.

He resettles in reality. Right. Richie stayed the night. He’s actually here. “No, I didn’t- I forgot you were here.” He covers his face with both hands and exhales deeply, embarrassed. “It was a stupid nightmare.”

Maybe another time, Richie would seize the opportunity to make an ‘erotic nightmare’ joke, but he leaves it be. “Well, breathe, dummy.”

Eddie focuses on his breathing for a few moments. He drops his hands into his lap. There’s something wet on his face, but maybe it’s just sweat? Richie’s brow furrows. And that’s when he comes to terms with a sharp pain in his hand.

“Eds, your hand!” Richie whispers urgently. “Shit, you got blood all over your face!”

He can’t even process what’s happening before Richie flies across the room to fetch the medical stash and his glasses.

“Oh my god,” Eddie squeaks. His hand is still bandaged, but it’s bleeding and has soaked through, running down his arm. He can feel the panic and terror bubbling in his throat at the utter level of unsanitary , but Richie’s back and holding his arms.

“Shhh, okay, hold on,” Richie tries to calm him. “I’m gonna get something to clean off your face.” And he hurries out of the bedroom, leaving the door open. The water runs in the faucet down the hall and Eddie hears gentle splashing. He looks towards the dark door opening, then back at his hand. His fingernails have blood under them. His cast has a large, rusty-red tint across the inside of his arm.

And Richie’s back, holding his chin carefully and cleaning with a wet cloth. He continues shushing Eddie, sensing his nausea. “It’s okay, you’re okay, don’t barf.” Richie works at his cheeks and brow, and softly wipes at his nose. His attention turns to Eddie’s hand and he looks closer. Seeing someone in that proximity to his injury makes him queasy, but Richie’s hold grounds him. Since when is Richie capable of being so… caring? (Last time Richie tried to help him, he re-broke his goddamn arm and called his mother, who wouldn’t let him leave the house for almost a month.) “Looks like you just squeezed your hand too hard. Probably fucked it up while you were sleeping. I’ll rewrap it. I watched you do mine. Jesus fuck, breathe, Eds. You’re panting like a pornstar.”

Right. Breathe. Where the fuck is his inhaler? He’s starting to feel lightheaded.

“You probably need to take off your shirt.”

“FUCK OFF, Richie!” He spits.

Richie raises his eyebrows. “No, seriously. You got blood all over your shirt, too.”

He blinks and looks down at his- oh. Fuck. Yeah, his favorite night shirt is ruined. It’s covered in blotches of red. He feels like he might pass out.

He pulls it from behind his neck and over his shoulders and head. He almost immediately starts shaking from the cold rush of air. Richie rolls his eyes, leans down to the floor where he slept, scoops his hoodie with one hand, and hands it to Eddie. He quickly pulls it on but leaves his casted arm and hand for Richie to tend to. He mumbles a drowsy, “Thanks.”

“Just try not to bleed on it, please? It’s one of my faves.”

- - -

Eddie doesn’t have any more dreams that night. Actually, he has the best night’s sleep in recent memory. No nightmares.

He also doesn’t remember falling asleep. But the morning light is shining directly into his face now, and he reluctantly comes to consciousness.

The pieces of last night reassemble in his mind, and he quickly looks at his injured hand. It’s wrapped tightly, only a few smudges of dried blood in between his fingers evidence of the late night mess. A tiny bit of dried red on the very edge of the cuff of his sleeve. And poorly written in Sharpie in the center of his bandaged palm, Sweet dreams, Spaghetti ♡

“You really know how to fuck up a nice gesture, huh?” Eddie says quietly to his probably-still-sleeping friend. He didn’t know what time it was or if his mother was lurking around yet.

No blood on his bedding, thank GOD, and no more blood on his- ...wait. What is he wearing?

He leans up on his elbows. He’s warmer than usual. Something hard is scratching at his chest and his neck, but the rest of whatever he’s wearing is so, so soft and very oversized on him.

Its an ash grey zipped-hoodie. It’s Richie’s.

His sense of smell kicks in, and he scrunches his nose at the reek of shitty body spray coming from it. He sits up and unzips the gross, unwashed jacket, pulling on the cuffs at each wrist carefully.

“Rich, come on. It’s morning. You gotta go before my mom wakes up.” He glances over the edge of the bed, but Richie’s not there. The comforter and pillow are wadded up in front of Eddie’s closet, and his sneakers are gone. No glasses on the desk.

Which means... he left already? Eddie’s heart sinks a little. Whatever. He’ll see Rich today, probably.

He looks back at his wrapped palm.

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

Richie | 13

“Just try not to bleed on it, please? It’s one of my faves.”

Eddie doesn’t laugh or fuss, which is disappointing. Richie needs to keep Eddie’s attention away from the fuckin’ Carrie episode triggered by some nightmare.

He wants to keep things light because he knows, he’s certain , Eddie’s violent nightmare probably has something to do with It. Because he’s been having nightmares about It, too. He dreams of missing posters hanging across Derry with his face on them, with no one looking for him. He dreams of that giant lumberjack trying to stab him to death in the middle of the park, and no one will help him. He dreams of being lost in the sewers, his friends calling to find him, but his mouth is sewn shut. Horrific realities every night. He can’t stay asleep more than a couple hours.

That’s why he’s risking getting caught in the Kaspbrak house. Anymore, he doesn’t feel okay unless he’s with his friends. The Great Richie Tozier is reduced to a sleepless baby, and the only possible remedy is having one of his Losers at arm’s length. And Eddie is his favorite Loser, after all.

And up until Eddie woke him up, it seemed to be working.

He focuses on unwrapping the crimson tide mess of cloth wrapped around an apparently catatonic version of his friend Eddie. It isn’t until he’s gently wiping away fresh blood from the cut that Eddie actually responds again.

Eddie hisses. “Ow.”

“Sorry.” He apologizes softly. “I’m just gonna clean this up, and then… I’ll put some stuff on it?”

He looks up and meets Eddie’s eyes, which are half-lidded and sleepy. He figures the horror has subsided and his firey little friend has worn himself out in his own panic. Or maybe he’s about to pass out? Either way, he’s glad Eddie isn’t making this difficult.

Eddie nods. “Yeah we can jus’ put some triple antibiotic on it.”

He looks over the products he brought to the temporary emergency room that is the bed. Triple… antibionic… ?

“S’the yellow tube,” Eddie mumbles and points lazily. Richie picks it up and uses some across Eddie’s wound. “Don’t use it all, dumb.”

“‘Dumb’ what?” He replaces the cap.

“You’re not qualified to do this.”

“You’re not qualified. I’m qualified as shit.” He’s glad Eddie wants to bicker instead of freak out. He finishes wrapping a first layer of gauze and tape around Eddie’s small hand. Richie risks a glance up at Eddie’s face, only a few inches away. The kid hasn’t fallen back asleep, but his eyes are shut and he’s tilting his head back against the wall.

Richie allows his fingers to gently drag across Eddie’s as he pulls back. He pinches Eddie’s fingertips softly as he lets go. The sensation tingles up his arm and to his center, where it’s growing warmly. (He thought it couldn’t get better than Eddie tending to his hand earlier in the night. He enjoyed the rough way that Eddie yanked his hand into a position easy to clean and bandage, lectured Richie about cleanliness and all the risks involved with not properly taking care of a wound.) There’s a tightness in his chest at how he gets to take care of Eddie like this, totally in control and responsible for his well-being.

He looks over the casted arm, with LOVER written across it and smiles fondly at Eddie’s determination to fight back against that stupid bitch Greta Keene. (He really wishes he could hit a girl.) But even more than that, the fact that Eddie prefers to be thought of as a “lover” makes Richie’s heart pound.

He’s almost done wrapping Eddie’s hand.

“Richie?” Eddie whispers.

“Yes, ‘muh boy?” He whispers back.

“Can I go back ‘ta sleep?” He slurs.

“Hand’s almost done. And then,” He pinches Eddie’s cheek. “We just gotta wrap you in fucking bubble wrap because you can’t fucking manage NOT to hurt yourself every chance!” Eddie is apparently too sleepy to fight back and allows him to hold the freshly bandaged hand in both of his own. “All better, Spaghetti Man.” And he presses his lips to the center of Eddie’s palm in a quick kiss and smiles widely.

Eddie lifts his head and opens his eyes at Richie. He looks down at his hand, and then back to Richie. “Thank you.” His eyelids drop, he quickly tips over, and plops his head onto his pillow, bouncing on the mattress slightly.

Richie has to cover his mouth to stifle his laugh. Eddie muffles something into his pillow. “Pardon me?” He says quietly with a big smile. He can’t help it. This is cute as shit.

Eddie turns his face away from the pillow. “Don’t laugh at me. I’m gonna sleep.”

“Can you sleep without injuring yourself?”

Eddie doesn’t answer right away. “I dunno but I’m tired.” He shuffles and twists his body around until he’s facing upward and looking at Richie. His hand reaches up and wraps around Richie’s wrist. “You can sleep on the bed too, if you want?”

Richie’s throat closes. He’s not entirely sure how much of this Eddie is actually processing, he seems really out of it. And his wrist feels like it’s on fire from Eddie’s touch.

“I just… Maybe that way if I start hav’ ‘nuther nightmare, you can wake me up. If you don’t wanna, tha’s fine-”

“No it’s fine.” He stops Eddie, taking a breath before continuing. “If you start freaking out again I’ll kick you in the dick until you stop.” He hopes that Eddie believes his nonchalant agreeance.

Eddie, once again, doesn’t laugh or fuss. He scoots to the outer side of the twin mattress and closes his eyes. The oversized hoodie swallowing his tiny form, almost covering his sleep shorts. He leaves space between himself and the wall.

Richie gulps. He can feel his hear pounding in his ears as he steps across the room to turn off the light on the desk, and pick up Eddie’s discarded comforter from the floor. He looks over his patient lying on the bed. His chest is moving gently as he breathes. It’s really cute. Too cute. Dangerously cute.

He can already hear steady breathing coming from the little wad of hypochondria. He’s out.

Richie steps back towards the desk and plucks a Sharpie from next to the lamp. He pads back towards the bed and kneels down close to Eddie’s face. He gently pulls Eddie’s bandaged hand from near his neck. He can feel Eddie’s breath on his fingers and it sends chills down his spine, but he stays focused. He scribbles, Sweet dreams, Spaghetti ♡ into the center of the palm, and replaces it against Eddie’s chest. He knows Eddie won’t think too deeply about it, he’ll just be pissed off and probably want to change the bandages as soon as possible. He hopes, at least.

After he tosses the closed marker onto the floor, he prays to WHATEVER evil God has put him in this position that Eddie won’t feel him shaking as he lays down facing the wall, pulling the cover over them. His ears are ringing, at this point. They’re echoes of blood rushing all over the place, his heart on overdrive. He tries to keep at least a couple inches distance from Eddie’s back, but he’s starting to get a contact high from the proximity and the body heat. His breathing is totally out of rhythm. His body is buzzing with a want to close the gap.

Listening to Eddie’s soft breathing, Richie drifts asleep.

And oh, by the way, it’s been exactly six days, 13 hours, and 12 minutes since he decided he was in completely love with Eddie Kaspbrak. And it fucking sucks.

- - -

“Eddie!” An irritating voice rings from the hallway. “Why is the bathroom light on?”

The sound shakes Richie awake. Looks like the sun has just started coming up, and it’s still a little chilly. He knows right away that Sonia is up and on the move. He’s got to go before she starts jiggling Eddie’s doorknob. By then, she’ll hear him climbing out of the house.

Richie rubs his eyes quickly and touches the top of his head, checking for his glasses, but doesn’t feel them. He tries to lean himself up on his arms, but something is weighing one of them down…

He doesn’t need his glasses to figure out that the blurry figure laying on his arm is Eddie. He can make out the features of Eddie’s nose and eyebrows, and lips… Really close to his own face. His breathing intensifies as he realizes how closely they’re facing each other. Eddie is only a few inches away, weight holding down Richie’s right arm.

He would have loved to stay like this longer… but he can hear the floorboards creaking outside the bedroom.

“Fuck.” Richie mouths to himself.

As gently as possible, he pulls his arm from under the still-sleeping angel next to him. He scoots to the far end, away from Eddie, and worms off the bed, avoiding touching him. He places the comforter back on Eddie and scrambles to clean up the rest of the evidence. He scoops his make-shift bed from the floor and tosses it in front of Eddie’s closet. He clumsily pulls on his sneakers and grabs his glasses from the desk.

He turns towards Eddie, still dead asleep. Must have slept okay?

Man, for that matter, Richie didn’t have any nightmares either. The Great Richie Tozier slept like a sleep-full baby.

“Sorry, Eds, I gotta scram.” Richie whispers affectionately as if to a one night stand, and moves towards the window. Out the window, across the roof to the gate, down onto the fence, then he’ll escape out the back yard. Carefully, he lifts the window and climbs out, focusing on not catching his leg again. He pauses to take one more look inside, towards the bed.

“Eddie!” Mrs. K repeats, from behind the door. “Are you awake this early?”

“Shit!” And he rushes away from the window, out of sight. He’s moving quietly, and he hears the window shut behind him.

[reddogf13]

Raw nerves ch 3

Pennywise x Beverly

summery:   7 years after pennywise tricked those kids into thinking they won, he unintentionally explodes a gas pipe. he wakes days later to discover hes being treated by Beverly. too weak to even walk he is forced to live under her roof. questioning her reasons for keeping him and why none of the other losers have come to end him. without knowing, the two join a path to heal each other.

status: complete

rated: M - fowl language and gore

previous chap: Raw nerves ch 2

next chap:  Raw nerves ch 4

_____________________________________

~ch:3 Scars~

The new morning rose to fill the webbed den in a yellow glow. Beverly sitting on the chair while he rested nearby. Hearing her get up to leave he opened his eyes, anxious that she was heading off to escape his reach and tell others about the night.

Stopping her with a question. “where are you going?”

Beverly turning to look back to him. “to work.”

“stay here.”

“I have to pay bills. I can't afford to take any days off.” her restless night shining through in a tired voice.

“you were here yesterday.”

“yes, because that was my normal day off. After my hospital visit I have to do lots of overtime. I'll come back late tonight and every other night.” taking a jab at this partially being his fault. Leaving while he was left grumbling over the fact. Her body language didn't say she was lying leaving no choice for him but to believe her. Hearing her take a quick shower to redress in fresh clean clothing for the day. Heading back toward his room to check on his bullet wound. About to shift the bandages when he snapped at her.

“leave it!”

shouting back at him out of frustration. “can you stop being a dick so I can check!”

“why are you even bothering? Go to work already.” shifting to where she couldn't check the wound. “how'd you even find me after that explosion? I thought I would surely be buried under the rubble.”

“because I am not a dick who leaves someone to die a miserable death. I was walking home when I spotted you in the scar.”

“the scar?”

“the big chasms made by the tunnel explosions. Some call it the scar or the canyon since it turned a few blocks into long ditches. Killed some people inside the houses that were destroyed aside from all the workers who were in the tunnels. Almost half of Derrys streets are closed now that I don't believe will ever be fixed with how deep the damage goes. Lots of rain afterwards didn't help the search for people. Washing away rubble or sinking it deeper into the building mud.

Maybe that's what made it easier for you to be found. Sticking out of some rubble I first thought you were one of the missing construction workers until I got close. I dug you out anyway and saw you were still breathing so I took you home. I was really hoping to get you healed up in a day or two and free you back into the wild.”

“HA! Keeping me from a miserable death?!” he laughed. “after you all threatened me with starvation?”

“I don't blame a wolf for needing to eat.” her tone serious. “that does not mean I am going to sit on the dinner plate or let others be eaten if I can help it. Besides, you don't look very starved to death.”

“fuck you! Get away from me before I snap your other arm!” threatening through the fatigue catching up to him being aggressive again. Beverly taking him by surprise by shoving him down into the bed. Shifting him into laying fully on his back to reach the bullet wound. Pushing a hand up under his bottom jaw to restrain him from lunging back up. Pennywise ready to retaliate by shredding into her if it weren't for where she decided to settle. Straddling over his hips to sit down in restraining him further. His body going lax on its own from the intimate interaction pacifying him.

His head laying back she slowly removed her hand from his bottom jaw. “don't move and I'll get through this quick!” already checking through his wounds. What she was doing flying over his mind focusing on something else a lot lower. The shifting of her hips over his developing a building arousal he hadn't felt in a long while. Ever since he first landed on this space rock there was something interesting to him about the females here. All their soft flowery smells made them more tempting a meal to dine on. It was only when he bedded one that he captured the true feel of them. Taking a chance on the disgusting creatures after a night of accidental courting and drinking.

Excited by the play he couldn't do between the rare numbers of his species. Learning over time how delicate they were to handle. Holding back his bites to nurture forth an excitement at their core a sweet taste that far more addictive than fear. Unfortunately for every female he sweetened to taste they never lasted long. Devoured to ultimately satisfy his hungering addiction of their taste. Belly filled quite the while after swallowing down the last bloody bite. Compared to fear it filled his stomach greater, but took too long to develop for a payment that was so easy to lose. Females lost interest if you don't pamper them enough. Humans fragility in general that had them die at any moment. Unpractical enough in the long run that he never committed to keep it up. Defaulting to terrorizing humans for a seasoned meal.

Thinking back on it all had his dick excited for some fun. Twisting around in his pants to rub against Beverly seated right above. At the rubbing between her legs she halted in treating his wounds. Pennywise waiting for her to leap off feeling repulsed by the action. Aware of her past negative sexual encounters when she was younger. Inhaling a deep breath leading him to heavily swallow a mouth full of drool. Her flowering lavender fragrance shaping to let him be aware of her excitement. A fiery smoked cinnamon he already wanted to grab a taste of. Denied all possibility of that today as she slipped off him. His check up for the morning finished that she was ready to leave for work. Heading out of the room faster than most mornings.

Taking in another deep breath to enjoy her scent in sitting up. Stunned to know he could cause such feelings in the girl who tried to kill him. Enjoying the image of her riding him to the point of screaming his name. Able to arouse her left the way open to make that a future possibility. How was he to do this with someone so guarded? Gentle coaxing during his treatments that perhaps a deal could be made. Staying an obedient patient as long as she stayed on him like before. Shifting it toward something more each day to test how willing she was. Eventually he could convince her to try something a bit more risky.

The thrill of his plan causing him to watch the clock through the rising heat of the summer day. The sound of the car late in the day announcing her return. Displeased that she skipped seeing him right away to go shower. Shifting in bed to lay stomach down creating a difficult position for her to work with. A start to his plan intending for her to fight him back into the past position of pinning him down. Tapping his fingers on the bed impatiently during her time redressing in the bathroom. Coming into his room dressed in a pair of shorts partially covered by a long short sleeved t-shirt.

Jump starting the life in his pants over the tempting sight. Thankful that today had been extra hot to give him this lovely view. Attention brought up momentarily from her legs by her talking to him for his treatment.

Her voice sounding tired after a long day of work. “nothings bled through the new bandages. Does anything hurt?” partially up lifting the larger bandages for a glance under them. Her lethargy during the check over leading to a costly mistake. Stepping within the reach of his hungry jaws drooling for a taste of her.

Gazing over her soft thighs that would be a tender sweet bite. Swallowing down so much drool to the point he couldn't hold back anymore. Mouth opening for what he considered to be a small nip. Arms wrapping around her to be pulled close. Catching her releasing a hiss of pain by teeth piercing her inner thigh to let blood flow. Her hands planted on his shoulders in keeping herself steady during the situation that would have many panicking. Helpless by the bite directly over her major artery that left her life in Pennywise's jaws.

One pull back in ripping the artery open would end her life here. Lucky for her he only wanted a taste, not a bite to swallow down. retracting his teeth to lick over all the blood droplets pooling over the skin. Lapping over the fresh bite long enough to close a few of the marks. The once bacteria infectious bite turning into a cleaning fast healing treatment. Good for small injuries, but took forever to help the larger ones shrink. In spite of the bleeding coming to a stop he kept licking along her thigh. Tasting higher to a more sensitive area under the edging of her shorts. Tempted to tear the fabric away enough to lick somewhere more private. Leaving behind a layer of drool in savoring the heated scent this treatment eased her into.

Arms wrapped around to rub the tops of her hips. Face buried to lick between her legs so long he felt them shivering. Her hands gripping his back through heavy heated breaths. Making no attempts to pull away when his bite released past a few minutes ago. His grip releasing around her hips freeing her to slip out of the room. His smile spread from ear to ear in self gratification as she ran to the bathroom. Hearing the shower start up briefly set on a temperature lacking the steam he saw escaping the door. Shut off when Beverly headed back to her room without heading down to start herself dinner.

Snickering to himself at what he did. “no treatments today after I couldn't help myself. Tomorrow I'll have to be nicer to my in house carer.” bedding down for the night.

The morning golden glow didn't come this time as a storm clouded the skies. Pennywise didn't mind it too much at first. It was when he noticed Beverly being much more hesitant to enter the darkened room. Nerve wracked enough by the narrow death funnel before his den, that the now entirely dark room was off limits for her. Avoiding the space after waking to go make herself breakfast instead. Leaving the clown upstairs fearfully worried she would not be coming in today. Paying close attention to where she was moving around the house. Ready to accept this day as a failure he laid back down to rest.

Alerted by Beverly coming up the stairs to stop at his doorway. Taking deep breaths to gear herself to enter the room. In a hurry down the narrow path to his den where she took a quick peek of him around the corner. Exchanging a glance to one another for a brief moment. When she turned right back around to head out he jumped to get her attention back.

“not going to check up on me?” relieved to hear her steps stop to reply.

“I am not looking to be bit today.”

“I won't bite.”

“how do I know that's not a lie?”

“I promise to be nice the entire time.”

“will you let me use alcohol?”

the liquid had him grumbling but accepting. “yeeees.” satisfied that she was convinced to come back. Taking some cotton to soak in one hand. The other holding the full bottle of alcohol that he could read off her wasn't just for medical reasons. It was a defense to throw in his face if he reacted aggressively toward her. Standing by the bed she held a distrusting look to him about ready to treat the first wound.

Passing her a sly grin in gesturing across himself. “take a seat.”

receiving a questioning look of suspicion. “why?”

“easier to check over.” which he was right about as otherwise she'd have to move around the bed for a full look over.

Beverly mumbled in debating something while standing nearby. Glaring back at him in warning. “stay down and don't move!” pointing down toward the back of the bed.

Doing as he was told when she moved to straddle his hips. Her legs spread far apart over his muscled body far larger than anyone she knew. Working through the creeping sensation of Pennywise's hands settling on her hips. The hands tensing their grip each time she cleaned the wound with stinging alcohol. Shifting underneath her to work off the pain into a better sensation. Catching the scent of her excited body enjoying the small friction he was causing. Hands pressing her hips down for a more solid feel between the two. Something hard rubbing against the fabric between them looking for a way around it.

Finishing up her treatment she gave one last look over the wounds. Gingerly feeling a hand across his smooth skin. Dipping along the rolling curves of the tight muscles finely showing themselves. Pennywise keeping quiet on the fact her attention was traveling elsewhere. Enjoying that she was marveling his body through delicate touch. Displeased when she caught on to what she was doing with her hands.

Rising off him to rush out of the room while saying a quick excuse. “have to go to work or I'll be late!”

he huffed over the spoiled fun of the morning, but he was able to start something. Having her approach him that allowed more intimate interaction. Keeping it up to break down that wall of her avoiding him due to his past actions. Shifting over in the bed to get comfortable with a look over some of his closest wounds. Burns scabbing over as the edges healed further inward over the course of his stay. Scrapes now being pale healed patches soon to fully disappear. The deeper gouges taking longer to seal themselves past multiple reopenings.

Resting down for Beverly to eventually come home. The common schedule of the boring day passing toward the night by the time she arrived. Starting a small dinner for herself to sit out of place in the living room.

“why there?” he questioned. Tuning in to how her emotions were stressed from something. The sounds of flipping through paper pages as she talked to herself about a few. Certain parts he caught her saying “how can I pay for this?” “tips can't cover this.” her emotions shifting from stress to fearful nerves. Heading to bed to lay awake haunted by those same feelings. By the time she truly went to bed the early morning was not long off.

Pennywise shifting himself to lay back in waiting for Beverly. Who didn't even check on him that morning by rushing straight off to work. Angry that he wasn't visited, with questions filling his head as to why she was in such a rush today. “oh well, there's always time after she gets back.” her return filled by quiet anxiety radiating off her. Her steps drained of all their energy since rushing that morning. Skipping dinner straight to bed to repeat everything the next day. She didn't visit him, headed straight to work and returned home straight to bed. To him it didn't appear she was avoiding him on purpose. Her anxiety's aimed elsewhere taking all her attention away.

What should he do? Cause a bit of trouble to grab some attention that way? That wouldn't last before the room was rubble after multiple scenes made. Then there was his hunger drawn back to the surface. Tempting her to bed would allow him to feed off the energy of her heat without need to harm her. However he needed to coax her into that and she was still incredibly distrusting of him. Far out in the countryside left no other options for food unless they came like those burglars. Hunger tempted by the sound of Beverly leaving her room to start a shower in the hall bathroom. His body telling him to hunt the meal present as who knows when a meal would be available. A short walk down the hall where he could corner her in that small room.

The drool collecting in his mouth oozing out during Beverly's shower. She wasn't just showering based of the overwhelming scent escaping the bathroom. His stomach painfully empty on top of this was too much. He had to take a taste to get something into his body or else he may not last long. Standing from the bed to follow the hall to its end. Taking long enough that Beverly was finishing up her shower by the time he reached the door. Inhaling a deep breath of the escaping scent in savoring it. Gathering up the energy to step through the locked door up behind the unaware girl. The mirror in front of her far too steamed up to reveal his presence. Focusing on brushing out her wet hair as she stood in front of the sink. wrapped from below her shoulders down to her knees in a large blue towel that made her wet red hair stand out all the more.

Finishing up her brushing she set the black brush down to wipe the mirror clean. Surprised at seeing his reflection staring at her from the mirror she whipped around to face him. “what are you doing in here?!” regaining the breath startled from her.

Swallowing down his drool. “what are you doing in here?”

“showering?” raising an eyebrow to his question. Tensing by him stepping closer to leave little room for her to move. Backed up against the sink where his arms surrounded her sides while his hands leaned against the counter edge. Leaning down to deeply scent at her neck for a fresh breath of it. His actions causing the heated scent to turn all the more appetizing.

“smells like you were doing something else.” his call out firing up a bright blush across Beverly's face.

“umm-” her wavering voice cut short by a hand rubbing up along her inner thigh. Swallowing heavily by a gentle squeeze to her thigh with his sharp nails pricking the still wet skin. Rubbing upwards closer to the end goal he wanted so badly. The scent he breathed in burning his nose down into his lungs as a roaring fire would. That fire snuffed out to a bitter black smoke when she stressed at his pressing hand.

“don't! Don't!” she repeated speedily. He retracted his hand to help her feel comfortable again. Without arousal from her he wouldn't be able to get any sort of meal. Making the task of keeping her aroused and comfortable highly important to him.

He thought of what to do next. “pushed too hard. Still far too early for her to be comfortable with me.” accepting that he wasn't going to get anywhere he readied to step away until Beverly mentioned an important detail.

“it hurts.” she mumbled out.

“hurts?” curious on why when he knew that wasn't normal. When she nodded he shifted back to take in the current situation. He could still smell the lovely heated scent off her. Moving forward he offered to do some doctoring of his own. “let me take a look.” picking her up to seat her on the sink counter. Careful to take everything slow for her not to feel like cornered prey. Her heated scent covered in the developing anxiety as he spread her legs to slip close. Kneeling down to get closer under the towel spreading across her legs. A mere look finding nothing wrong, but he'd know more by taste. Stretching his long red tongue changing to a black color further along its length. He gave a tender shallow lick to her that had her tense from the mentioned pain.

The small lick was all he needed to catch the tearing of her walls. Whoever she was with last had been viciously rough to her. He waited for her to ride out the pain as his spit did some healing. The next lick going deeper didn't cause as much pain, but Beverly tensed anyway due to the stinging. Relaxing after the next few licks healed most the painful injuries. Building back up the sweet taste he wanted the first time. His drool dripping tongue lapping up the delicious nectar she was making for him. Taking hardly any time to heal her as he licked every part of her inner walls. Burying his face between her legs pressing her further back against the mirror. Her legs hiked up over his shoulder with fists gripping the fabric there. Moaning along to the greedy licks he repeated in filling his hunger. The close interaction letting him leech away enough energy to feed his body to a healthier status.

He wanted to do so much more, but held back to keep it slow. Pulling away to claim his doctoring finished in licking his salivating jaws clean. He had to remind himself that human females had limited energy to spend for such activities.

Beverly panted to catch her breath.“fuck.”

Pennywise chuckled at her reaction. “night Beverly.” he smirked while opening the bathroom door to leave.

“yeah, night to you to.” joking about the casualness to his leaving. Shutting the door again to finish readying for bed.

He returned to bed on a fuller stomach no longer aching to hunt. Sensing his healing already picking up its pace using the overflow of energy available. Thinking about how he could be back to normal in a few days if he kept this up.

[sophygurl]

So, other than Big Brother, which was one of the bigger reasons I was absent most of the summer because I was all invested in my fandom over that elsewhere, I did watch a lot of other TV this summer that I enjoyed and wanted to talk about. Here’s a few highlights:

The 100 continued to be super weird, but I’m still into it. 

Agents of Shield continued to be super weird, but I’m not sure if I am still into it or not?

American Princess, sadly cancelled, was a delightful new show on Lifetime about a woman who runs off to join a Ren Faire. 

BH90210 is a ridiculous soapy campy cheesy combination of real life and totally fictionalized aspects of the actors from one of my all-time fave shows and I am loving everything about it and I don’t CARE. Reallyreally hoping they get to do another season. (Really miss Luke, tho)

Derry Girls - what a delightful show! I binged it based on gif sets I’d seen around on tumblr and am now obsessed with it.

Elementary had a lovely farewell to fans, I think.

Euphoria was heart wrenching and Zendaya deserves all of the awards for it!

Gentleman Jack is wlw and historical romance CANDY. 

Grand Hotel, also sadly cancelled, was a fun summer soap with just oodles of diversity. 

Jane the Virgin had a very satisfying ending, imo. 

Killjoys had an incredibly satisfying ending, but I am still very sad that it’s over.

The Outpost continued to be enjoyable, but I still have a couple of episodes of that to watch!

Pose was just - uhggghhg all the feels!

Reef Break was a fun action adventure show where it’s a woman with a complex past who gets to play anti-hero and save the day every week.

The Righteous Gemstones is so fucking hilarious. If you enjoy dark comedy that’s a bit juvenile at times you absolutely have to check this one out. I crack up several times every episode and have found myself caring for these ridonkulous characters, as well, which was a surprise because they’re quite terrible. 

She-Ra - I am not normally into animated series but had heard such good things about this that I checked it out and very much liked it.

Schitt’s Creek was a show I was not interested in when it started but I kept getting it rec’d to me by people whose taste normally aligns with mine, so I finally checked it out and I am loving the shit out of it! I cackle at least once every episode. I’ve still got about a season and a half to go in my marathon watching, and I am going to be quite sad once I’ve caught up and don’t have any more new episodes to just load up and watch for hours at a time.

Siren is still the best bipolymermaid canon show around. I mean, it’s probably the only bipolymermaid canon show around but STILL. It is Delightful.

Succession, I feel, got even deeper into the family dysfunction this season and I was digging it. That smile at the end of the season finale? HEH. 

Trinkets was an adorable little show on Netflix that I felt showed female teen friendship in a pretty accurate light. 

Veronica Mars was - well. I actually really enjoyed most of the season right up until that fucking ending. I know a lot of fans were soured on the entire season, but I could make a case for all of it IF IT HADN’T ENDED THAT WAY. So yea, not a happy fan. I’m probably never going to be able to see the show the same to be honest. It’s not a good feeling. 

Shows I haven’t gotten to yet, but still intend to:

Carnival Row, Dear White People season 3, Good Omens, Jessica Jones’ last season, Scream’s 3rd season, Stranger Things (any season - I really need to start this show already), Why Women Kill

Shows I didn’t get to but might?? IDK? Fear the Walking Dead. I kinda burned myself out on TWD and didn’t finish the last 9 eps from last season and then didn’t watch Fear this summer and have yet to start TWD this fall, so IDK. Maybe I’ll try and pick it back up at some point or maybe I’ll decide all those eps are clogging up my DVR and give it up eventually. Only time will tell!

[201kl5-dead]

I’m sorry, you’re a *what*?

Eddie is walking home from school, and is taking a breather from all the shit going on. To his surprise, instead of spending a little time alone he meets a really badly dressed and messy-haired boy, who, by all logic, shouldn't exist.

Aka the 'Richie is a winter spirit and Eddie despises winter' -AU that nobody asked for.

Read it on AO3

thanks to seeki who for some reason volunteered to proofread this piece of garbage

Eddie Kaspbrak hated winter. Or more specifically, he hated all the things that came with it. He despised the chilling cold that always seemed to settle in the marrow of his bones and not want to disappear, leaving him shivering even after a long and steaming hot bath. The layers of clothing he had to wear, partly because of his mother ushering him to but partly also to keep himself safe- the cold winds and glimmering snow banks were treacherous and could swallow you whole in a blink of an eye while nobody was looking. Or, in Derry, even if the whole town was looking, they wouldn't even blink or spare another thought to a small boy drowning in the freezing cotton. Not to mention the ice- that's what Eddie hated the most. Sure, the smooth patches of slippery glass that covered the roads were scary, but they were nothing compared to the black ice, hiding under the safe-looking snow, ready to claim its next victim. Especially since he had fallen  and broken his arm because of said black ice a few years ago, the lingering fear of it happening again, having to feel  the searing pain and being forced to stay in the hospital for so long, was enough to get him to reach for his inhaler, desperate for the puff of minty medicine that would get his lungs working again. Even though he knew full well that it was only spiced water and nothing more, after the years he had spent believing his ‘asthma' was real, the cold and dry freezing air still triggered whatever it was that made it near impossible for him to breathe properly. To make everything even more hellish for him, with winter came the holidays, and with the holidays came Christmas dinner with his relatives at their house, that his mother always insisted on hosting. And with that came the obligation to act like the well-behaved, polite, straight, and loving Christian boy that his mom so desperately wanted him to be. So yeah, it was fair to say that Eddie hated winter.

*******

These were all reasons why he was kicking the snow on the ground while walking, or rather limping towards his house after school had ended. He knew he would have to walk normally and grit his teeth through the pain with a smile, or his mother would usher him to the ER and keep him there for the next week or so. And seeing as nothing was broken, he would be fine with just enough rest and a way to let his anger and frustration out. Sure, he had always been bullied; that's what being the delicate, small and ‘pretty' boy in a town like Derry got you. But boy oh boy, it had gotten so much worse around 6 months ago, right after Eddie's 17th birthday when his friends had encouraged him to sneak out of his house, and he had gone to a party. Thinking his alcohol tolerance was better than it actually was and that he could take two cans of beer had certainly been a mistake, but at least if he got one good thing out of it he learned the hard way he was a lightweight. Unfortunately, someone at the party had seen his condition and decided to have a little fun with the little ‘girly boy', and had pulled him to what he had assured was a safe and shielded corner, and Eddie hadn't been able to tell the difference from a shielded place and somewhere out in the open, so he had let his dick lead him. Against all his better judgement.

Eddie Kaspbrak was a virgin and had never even kissed anyone. The most obvious reason for that would be that the small brunette boy was a huge germaphobe, but there was another that one nobody, except maybe his closest friend Bill, knew for certain. Eddie was gay, and he had figured it out at a young age. At first, he had thought that his blatant disinterest in girls, kissing, and just any kind of physical contact in general was because of his fear of germs, but he had finally realized that that might have not been the case in fifth grade when he and Bill were in the school locker rooms after gym, hiding from the bullies and their gang, and Eddie had watched with reddening cheeks and a tightening chest as his best friend came back from the shower, dripping wet and then drying himself off before changing. That night his dreams had been a little more than restless, and he had had a hard time looking his friend in the eyes for the following week before finally breaking down and confessing to him what had happened. To his luck, Bill did nothing but pull the young and sobbing boy against his chest in a tight hug, and had held him for close to two hours telling him that it was okay, he wasn't sick, he would never hate him, and that he still loved Eddie all the same, even if it was all platonic. Bill had also told him that he might like both boys and girls, but couldn't be sure about it yet. Despite Bill's unsureness, to Eddie that was maybe the most meaningful news he had ever received. He wasn't alone, it wasn't only him. He wasn't alone.

Ever since that day, he had allowed himself to look at other boys in a completely different light- yes, he still felt guilty some nights when he buried his magazines inside several clothes and stuffed them under his mattress as his breathing started to even out and he eyed the mess he made in disgust, always scared to death his mother would find out, and send him away for being sick. To his luck, nobody but Bill had found out, at least not until that one fateful night at the party. The random boy whose name Eddie didn't even know, but wasn't a permanent resident in Derry, had managed to convince Eddie to come with him, to try something thrilling and amazing, and after a flirty smile and a wink, the boy had grabbed Eddie's wrist, tugging him along. He had already been smitten, ready to follow his Prince Charming to the ends of the Earth. Turns out, that wasn't far at all, and Eddie found himself being pulled under the stairs and up against the boy, but he assured him that they were safe and shielded, so what was the harm? Especially when every cell and atom in his body was seeming to crave closeness with the tall boy, maybe reeking of cigarette smoke and alcohol which would have been enough to make Eddie gag and swear to stay away on a normal way, but that night it had seemed intoxicating, and he just had to have a taste. Despite it being messy, clumsy, way too horny and not meaningful at all and the worst of all, filmed and spread all around the school, the thing that made Eddie sob the hardest on the following nights in his bed, hiding under the covers, was that he had wasted his first kiss on that. And he'd never be able to get it back.

Logically, he knew that he should be more worried about the way everyone laughed and pointed at him at school, whispering and yelling derogatory and awful comments at him, or even about the fact that instead of getting punched or pushed once in a week or two, people seemed to at least try to attack him every few days. But the worst of them was Henry Bowers and his gang of goons who followed the insane boy like a herd of puppies follows its mother. The said gang was the reason why he was limping again and being forced to swallow the copper taste of blood and the salty tears rolling down his cheeks - there was no way in hell he could let his mom see him like this. Luckily, he had just only left school and had enough time to gather himself up before getting home, and maybe, just maybe, he would have a chance to sit for a few minutes in the woods he had to walk through. And then, for a few minutes, he would be able to breathe, let his tears fall, and tell his mind to calm down. 

*******

As Eddie walked through the woods and looked up at the sky and the snow-covered tree branches, he felt like he could finally breathe again. Despite his burning hatred of the winter, there was a smallish and fairly hidden opening in the woods, right by the path he used to walk to school and home, that he had stumbled in while running away from Bowers and his gang. It was small and slightly dirty, and full of leaves and other dirt he didn't want to know the specifics of when it wasn't coated in a thick blanket of snow, but it was *safe*. And it was his. It was a place where even despite the cold air prickling his skin and making his lungs dry up he felt free. Like nothing his mom or the bullies would say to him could affect him, like the hits he received felt only like balls of fluff thrown at him. It always felt like someone, or something, was watching him, but not in a creepy way. At least that's what he hoped.

But this time around it felt different than it usually was Instead of feeling like just a general presence somewhere around him, it felt more like a person- almost scarily much so. Eddie could practically feel the staring eyes boring into his head, and looked around himself, yelling out a small and shaky "Who's there?"

For a few seconds all he could hear was the wind blowing, before a small laugh could be heard from the edge of the opening. He snapped his eyes to the spot immediately, already trying to map out his surroundings for the quickest escape route he could dash towards if there was someone there waiting to jump him. Instead of a bully closing in he watched with wide eyes as a boy, around his age from what he could tell, with unruly and curly, shaggy black hair, his skin too white, lips tinted slightly blue and rectangle coke bottle glasses on his nose. What made the situation even weirder was the way the boy was dressed- he was wearing a worn out band t-shirt, khaki shorts, old black sneakers and a.. bright coloured hawaii shirt on top of it all. He had his hands shoved in his pockets and an impish smile stretched over his face, eyes trained on Eddie curiously. For a few minutes, neither of the boys moved. It was like they were frozen in place, one engulfed in fearful confusion and the other in child-like curiosity.

While Eddie stayed rooted to the spot he was sitting in, the boy started to slowly walk closer, tilting his head like he was inspecting him. Eventually, the dark haired teen walked up to Eddie and squatted down next to him, making him jump as the boy poked his cheek. That was what finally snapped Eddie back into reality, making him let out an annoyed noise as he slapped the hand away. "What the fuck do you think you're doing? Who even are you, what are you doing here,  how are you not freez-" The boy cut his flow of questions short with a loud laugh that startled Eddie, and left him staring at the laughing teen with wide eyes. As his laughter finally died down, the boy sat down on the ground next to him with a mischievous smile, the smoothness of his voice surprising the smaller boy. "Wow, calm down there, firecracker. How about one question at a time?"

As his initial curiosity wore off, Eddie felt mostly annoyed. The first thing the raven-haired boy had said was to call him a firecracker? "First of all, do not call me that! And second, who even are you, and how can you be here wearing only that?"

"Well, I guess one question at a time was an unfair wish, so I'll let that slide," the boy chuckled before tipping off an imaginary hat. "The name's Richie, and how I'm not freezing my balls off? That's simple, winter spirits don't really get cold, so I'm all warm and cosy."

Wait. What? Winter spirits? What the fuck? "Wait, what did you just say? A ‘winter spirit'? What do you take me for? I'm not a gullible idiot."

The other teen, who was apparently named Richie, just let out a chuckle and nudged the glasses on his face up a little. "Well, believe it or don't. Honestly, I couldn't tell you that much either, it's not like we get a crash course on the whole spirit thing at any point, so everything I know is stuff I've either made up, figured out, or pulled from the wind. But what I do know, is that I've seen you walking here with your head down for quite some time now, and your face is way too cute to have a frown like that on it."

That just deepened the frown on Eddie's face, and he tried his best to ignore being called cute, and blamed the small blush that was rising on his face to the cold. "Oh yeah, prove it then," he spoke in a challenging tone, and crossed his arms as he gave Richie an unimpressed look. To his dismay, the spirit didn't give up but rather got a mischievous twinkle in his eye as his grin widened a little and he raised his hand. And lo and behold, a small snowstorm, one sized like those miniature snow globes, started to slowly swirl on top of his hand. The smaller brunette couldn't help but stare in awe with his jaw hanging open, mesmerized by the small snowflakes dancing in the air, only to suddenly drop to the ground as Richie closed his fist and lowered his hand. As he slowly let his eyes travel up he could see the slightly cocky but also excited smile on the other teen's face, before it turned into a small frown as he looked up, alerted, as if listening to some voice calling to him, unheard by Eddie. Before he could properly say something he felt Richie's fingers on his cheek, and he shivered at the ice cold touch, although it was almost.. surprisingly pleasant.

"I have to go, but I'll  see you around, cutie," was all he heard before Richie  suddenly stood up and dashed towards the edge of the woods, disappearing into the snowy landscape in less than a minute, while Eddie was left looking after him with his thoughts jumbled in a confused mess.

After sitting there for a few minutes, already doubting whether he'd actually just talked to someone or if his brain was so desperate for friends and comfort that it had made one up, and discovering that there were no prints on the snow in front of him, except a small dent where Richie had been sitting, did nothing to convince him that the boy he just met was real. And cute, exactly his type if he was honest- no! No. Bad Eddie. No. He was not even going to go there the slightest bit. He didn't even know if this ‘Richie' was even a real person- or spirit, he guessed. Which still made absolutely no sense, but he'd seen the evidence, right? There was just no way to suddenly fake that and make it look that real, so either he was really losing it or the boy actually controlled the snow. The thoughts and wonder continued to plague Eddie as he finally stood up and he realized that he had been sitting in the snow for too long, and his fingers and toes had lost all feeling in them already. Even later that day as he laid in his bed, he couldn't help but secretly hope that he'd see the boy again.

*******

Eddie could clearly tell that he wasn't paying attention in class the next day, and he wasn't the only one. After three of his first classes he had already been called out by his teachers five times now to focus, which in itself was already unheard of - Edward Kaspbrak, the student that got straight A's in everything but gym, being scolded by a teacher several times? At this point, Bill had already checked him for a fever thrice, and was clearly  trying for a fourth as the two boys were sitting at one of the otherwise empty tables at the corner of the dining hall, making the smaller teen swat his hand away in an annoyed manner "I'm fine, Bill! Seriously, do you really think that my mom would've let me leave my bed if I showed any signs of being sick?"

"Normally no, but come on Eddie, something's going on that you're not telling me," Bill huffed as he reluctantly settled back down in his seat. "You've been unfocused the whole day, and that's really out of the ordinary. I'm allowed to be worried-"

He was cut off by Eddie sighing softly and swatting his shoulder, signalling for him to shut up. "Alright alright, I'll tell you if you just shut up- and won't call me crazy."

As Bill nodded quietly, albeit with a frown, Eddie took a deep breath before summing up what had happened the previous day. Except he might've left out just how cute the boy, or alleged winter spirit, was. It took maybe ten minutes after Bill's amused smile began to fade as he stared at Eddie, sighing softly when he quieted down again.

"Holy shit, you're not kidding," the taller boy breathed out, looking at his friend with raised eyebrows. He only got an annoyed huff as a response, Eddie shaking his head as he got up.

"Wait- I believe you! I think. But I know you wouldn't just make that up, so yeah I believe you," Bill said as he looked over at Eddie, the latter just nodding slowly with a shrug. "Yeah. Honestly, I wouldn't blame you for not believing me, I don't even believe myself." The two were cut off by the bell ringing, and as usual, they gathered their bags with groans and grumbling about how stupid all of this really was, and which teacher they'd have to stand in their next class. They parted with a wave and with Eddie promising he'd call if anything more happened, or at least tell Bill after the weekend, no matter how reluctantly he had made said promise. *******

Eddie didn't remember when was the last time he was actually this excited to leave school. Sure, it sucked and was full of assholes, but at least there he had his friends and some adults who would be obliged to keep him safe. At home, yes his mother looked after him, but too much and in her own, twisted way that did nothing but harm Eddie in the end. And anywhere in town or on his way home, he was not even the slightest bit safe, seeing as he never knew what or who could be lurking around the corner, looking to pick at him or try and ‘ask a favour from the small pretty boy'. He shivered at the thought, but this time, this time he would be safe. He hurried out of the classroom, being the first one out so that he could get outside. He made sure that nobody was following him as he crouched behind the ramshackled toolshed behind the school. The place quite frankly disgusted him- it was falling apart, most likely mouldy, and probably infested with who knows what kind of germs and bugs. He guessed that was the reason why no one thought to search for the schools' infamous germaphobe there, and Eddie was able to wait somewhat safely until the other students had left the school grounds to go home or wherever they spent their time in.

*******

When he finally left his cover, he stretched while a small smile made its way onto his face. The parking lot was empty, excluding a few stray staff cars, and the sun had started to shine slightly through the thick cloud covers, filling the sky. He treaded calmly on the snow-filled path through the woods, happy that for once, he wasn't in a hurry- he had told his mother that he would be staying over at the school library with Bill, so she couldn't even call in to keep tabs on his whereabouts. Eddie hummed to himself quietly as he looked around, still despising the cold and whiteness, but maybe he was slowly starting to warm up to it. Just maybe.

As he arrived at the opening, Eddie took a deep breath in and walked to the same stone he had been sitting on yesterday. Just as he was settling down, he heard a familiar voice behind his back, and he whipped his head around to find the same boy from the previous day standing there. He was wearing the same, all too chilly summer clothing, the same bulky glasses, and the same mischievous smirk. Eddie exhaled slightly and looked at him annoyed, crossing his arms. "You can't just do that, you fucking scared me!"

The boy laughed and moved to sit down next to Eddie and patted his knee, making Eddie blush more than he would've liked to admit. "Sorry, and I most certainly will do it again!"

He huffed, annoyed at Richie's remark, but he wasn't angry, not like he would've been in some other situation where someone else had said that. Instead, he had to hold in the laughter that was bubbling up inside of him. 

Yeah, maybe Eddie could learn to like winter one day. He just may need a little help from a certain winter spirit to get there.

[hanscom]

💙+ Timer

Twenty two days. Six hours. Forty three minutes. Nine seconds.

Twenty two days. Six hours. Forty three minutes. Eight seconds.

Twenty two days. Six hours. Forty three minutes. Seven seconds.

“Mr. Kaspbrak!”

Eddie jumps. He jerks straight up in his seat, then slumps down again when he realizes everyone is staring at him. Mrs. Hawkins is leading the charge, peering down her beakish nose at him, her eyes small and shrewd. “Do you plan to pay attention to my lesson?” she demands. “Or do I have to take away your watch?”

Eddie automatically covers his watch with his hand, shielding the face from view. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Hawkins,” he mutters dutifully. He keeps his watch protectively hidden until she looks away, and even then he puts his hands in his lap, under the table, out of sight.

He can’t resist giving the clock mounted on the wall above her head one last, fervent glance.

Twenty two days. Six hours. Forty one minutes. Thirty six seconds.

–

Watches are government-issued. Everyone is assigned one at birth, but you’re not eligible to obtain it until you’re at least thirteen. It’s one of those weird, arbitrary American laws, like how you can join the military at eighteen but can’t have a beer until you’re twenty one. No one really knows why it’s that way. Maybe the government doesn’t want you to spend your formative years pining for something that might not happen for years. That would make sense. Eddie got his watch on his fifteenth birthday and he’s only been waiting a year, but sometimes it already feels like it’s been a thousand.

He was the second one of his friends to get one, and the fourth overall. Bill got his first, the leader as always, on his thirteenth birthday. Twelve years, his watch had said, so far off it hadn’t even said anything about months or days or seconds. It had been disappointing in some strange way, because twelve years felt like an entire lifetime, but it was also thrilling to know that it was real, that someone was out there waiting and wanting.

He hadn’t missed the way Bill had looked the slightest bit jealous, though, when he had unboxed his own watch and his timer had only said one year, seven months, sixteen days.

And then Bev had gotten hers, and the timer had already been zeroed out. She and Ben had shared a shy, private glance, and the rest of them had quickly figured it out. Bev had kissed Ben. Ben was Bev’s soulmate. It had all been confirmed when Ben had gotten his own blank watch two weeks later.

That’s how it works. The timer isn’t counting down the minutes until you meet your soulmate. That would be too easy. No, the timer ticks down and down and down, and when it finally, finally clicks to zero, you’re kissing the person you’re meant to be with. True love’s kiss, right? Eddie personally thinks the government has watched too many Disney movies, but he still stares at the face of his watch more often than not, counting down the seconds.

He has no idea who his soulmate might be. Probably someone from Derry, given that he only has a few weeks left to wait. It could be anyone. Not Bill, of course, and certainly not Ben, but maybe one of the other Losers. Maybe Stan, or Mike. Maybe Richie.

Eddie doesn’t allow himself to hope. But…

It’s not altogether that likely that it’s one of his friends. There are plenty of people who don’t have soulmates yet. Many of them don’t even have their watch. It’s expensive to get one. A lot of people can’t afford it, like Stan and Mike.

And some people just aren’t interested. Like Richie. “I don’t need a stupid watch to tell me I enjoyed a kiss,” he says whenever he’s asked. “My dick can tell just fine.” He’ll grab his crotch and say, “It’s never steered me wrong before.” And then the conversation will end, because everyone knows Richie is relentless about dick jokes and it’s best if they stop it before it really starts.

Eddie wonders, sometimes, if Richie really has kissed anyone before, the way he claims he has. Does he press his mouth against theirs, hoping their watch would zero out and start to beep? Or does he really not care?

Eddie can’t imagine not caring. He cares a whole fucking lot.

–

Those last twenty two days don’t pass quickly, but they do eventually pass.

One hour. Twenty six minutes. Thirteen seconds.

He’s standing in front of his bathroom mirror, fucking with his hair. There’s a party tonight. Eddie isn’t normally much of a party-goer, but this is it. This is the night. His soulmate is going to be at that party, and Eddie is going to be kissed by him. The thought makes goosebumps rise all up and down his arms. He’s so excited he’s shaking.

Richie’s supposed to pick him up. Well, actually, Bill was supposed to be their designated driver, but his car is a piece of shit and no one trusts the chhht-chhht-chhht sound it makes, so Ben is stuffing Bev and Bill and Mike and Stan in his tiny two-door sedan. Richie, who just crested six-foot with no signs of stopping, and Eddie, who can’t stand to breathe in the shared air of that many people, elected to drive themselves. Well, Eddie elected to make Richie drive. He doesn’t have his own car. Richie’s truck is a piece of junk, but he’s slowly fixing her up with the money he didn’t spend on a watch. Eddie’s been helping him. He’s kind of proud of the progress they’ve made. Her brakes don’t even squeak that bad anymore, and she’s only rusted in a few small places.

Still, Eddie can hear her from a block away, rumbling down his street. He rushes down the stairs, calls goodbye to his mother, and books it to the end of the driveway before she can catch him. He didn’t exactly get her permission to go out, but she probably won’t be too mad as long as he gets home before curfew.

He flings himself into the passenger side and Richie slams on the accelerator before he’s even fully inside, like he’s afraid they’re being chased. As if Eddie’s mother could peel herself out of her armchair that fast. Still, it’s sort of exhilarating. The driver’s side window is down and the wind whips the hair that Eddie spent so long perfecting, but it’s worth it because Richie has his music turned up way too high and he smiles over at Eddie and the minutes on Eddie’s watch are ticking down and Eddie feels alive.

The party is at Sheridan Keener’s house in the good part of town, and the streets are already lined with cars. Richie eases his truck in behind an ugly brownish-orange Toyota that Eddie sort of recognizes from the student lot. He cuts the engine, and though faint music pulses from the Keener house, it’s suddenly very quiet without Richie’s music blasting.

“Well,” Richie says, and he fishes a cigarette out of his pocket. It’s a little crumpled but it lights up just fine. “Tonight’s the night.” He looks at Eddie’s watch out of the corner of his eye.

Hope it’s not you if you’re gonna taste like ash, Eddie wants to say, but he doesn’t. It’s a bad joke. Instead, he hums an agreement and gets out of the car. They walk together to the door, and then Richie tosses his cigarette into the shrubbery and Eddie lets him into the house and they’re swept into the foyer, greeted by throbbing music and the sharp smell of alcohol and the dim buzz of a hundred different conversations.

They get separated at some point, but Eddie tries not to notice. He waves at Ben from across the room, who points at his wrist and then gives Eddie a thumbs-up. He’s not the only one who’s been counting down. His friends are all excited for him. He wonders if they feel nauseous at all, the way he does.

After awhile, he goes into the kitchen to make a drink. A few people are standing around, including a cute boy standing alone in the corner, sipping from a solo cup. Eddie’s heart stops, then starts pounding. That’s him.

But, no. It’s too early. He still has thirty-four minutes.

Then again, it’s not like Eddie was going to just walk up and plant one on him. Maybe he’s supposed to start a conversation. Maybe it’ll go well, and they’ll end up in some private room upstairs, leaning closer and closer, their lips about to brush…

A girl comes into the kitchen. The boy looks up, sees her, and smiles. He’s even more handsome when he smiles, but Eddie has to look away when he drags the girl in for a kiss.

Not him, then.

It’s awful at first, and then it’s downright agonizing. He keeps looking around the room, trying to determine which of these people might be the person his soul was made for. Nobody stands out in particular. The only people Eddie really notices are his friends. Stan is on the couch, holding Bev’s drink so she can arm-wrestle Mike over the coffee table. He lets her win, and they all laugh about it. Eddie is smiling to himself when Richie suddenly appears at his elbow.

“Having fun?” he asks, leaning close to be heard over the music.

“Sure,” Eddie says, noncommittal. He hasn’t talked to a single person. Seventeen minutes. He’s starting to get nervous.

Richie elbows him gently. “Stop thinking so hard,” he says. “Just let it happen.”

Like Eddie has any other choice. The clock is ticking down, whether he wants it to or not.

Richie rolls his eyes, apparently not satisfied by whatever expression is on Eddie’s face. “Come on,” he says, and slings an arm around Eddie’s shoulders. “Let’s find something to take your mind off it.”

“Good luck,” Eddie mutters, but he goes where Richie leads him, same way he always does.

They end up in the basement, which is an entirely different atmosphere than the living room. It’s quiet down here, and hazy. This is where all the stoners go to toke, Eddie realizes, and he almost turns right back around but, well. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea. It would certainly calm his nerves.

But Richie doesn’t pull out a joint like Eddie expects. Instead, he guides Eddie into the middle of the room, where a loose circle of people have gathered. Eddie recognizes some of them, but most of them are strangers. Richie sits down like he owns the place, though, his sprawling legs taking up too much room. Eddie sits across from him, leaving enough space in middle of the lazy circle for the small glass bottle sitting there.

Just as Eddie settles in, a pretty blonde girl reaches out and spins it. It whirls around several times, making a horrible racket against the concrete floor, but then finally starts to settle. It eventually stops, the neck pointed at a black-haired boy, his eyes so heavy they almost look closed. He perks up a little when the girl climbs into his lap, pressing a kiss to his mouth.

Eddie realizes all at once what’s going on.

He glares at Richie. Richie smirks back. Of course he does. He’s an asshole.

Eddie should leave. He should get up and walk out. His first kiss shouldn’t be like this, because of some stupid game with a bunch of strangers that stink like pot. But…

Well, his soulmate is probably in this circle. That’s why he’s here, right? He’s going to spin the bottle, and it’s going to land on someone, and they’re going to kiss, and his watch is going to start beeping.

He glances at it. Nine minutes. His heart pounds.

The black-haired boy spins the bottle, and it lands on a redhead Eddie recognizes from his history class. She wipes her mouth after the boy kisses her, then spins for herself. The bottle points at a brunette girl and both of them giggle before they kiss each other on the cheek. Then the brunette spins and it lands on a boy wearing a backwards baseball cap.

It goes like this for some time. Eddie pretends to watch the game, but for the most part, he stares at his watch. Six minutes. Five minutes. Four minutes.

The pretty blonde who started the game kisses one of the other girls. The boys cheer for them, and the blonde draws away looking satisfied by the attention. She spins, and then the bottle lands on Richie.

Eddie stops staring at his watch.

She smiles at Richie, and he grins back at her. She scoots close to him and leans in, her hair falling almost like a curtain around their faces, but Eddie can just make out the way Richie dodges at the last second and kisses her cheek instead. Something unravels in his chest. He doesn’t know why it matters, but somehow, it does.

Richie spins and lands on Evan, a guy from Eddie’s homeroom. Richie grins, hooks his arm around Evan’s neck, and drags him in so he can plant a sloppy kiss on Evan’s forehead. Evan shoves him away, but he’s laughing about it.

Then he takes the bottle in his hand and spins it.

It lands on Eddie.

Eddie’s heart stops. He doesn’t have to look at his watch to know there’s only a couple minutes left. Is this it? Is Evan his soulmate? He tries to picture it, but for some reason, he can’t. It’s probably because he’s said maybe six words to Evan all year. Will that change, once they’ve kissed? It will have to, right? You have to be able to talk to your soulmate. What’s the point, otherwise?

But then Evan leans forward, quickly kisses Eddie’s cheek, and falls back into his place in the circle.

Eddie’s watch doesn’t beep. He glances at it.

One minute.

This is it. Holy shit, this is it.

He reaches out with a shaking hand. Should he spin it hard, or soft? Should he try to time it right, or should he just close his eyes and hope for the best?

Should he just get up and run out before everything has a chance to change?

He spins. His eyes, without his own permission, jam closed. His stomach swoops, and his chest is tight. His mouth dries out. He can’t decide if he’s going to throw up or if he’s going to pass out. Either seems entirely likely.

The bottle slowly comes to a stop.

Eddie opens his eyes.

For a disconcerting second, he’s confused. The bottle is pointed at himself. Except… no. No it’s not. That’s the bottom of it. The top is aimed in the opposite direction, directly in front of him, at… at…

“It’s you,” Eddie realizes.

Richie, sitting across from him, looks just as surprised. His eyes are wide, made all the more huge by his glasses. But then, slowly, he smiles. “Come on, Eds,” he says, and he gets up onto his knees, shuffling forward across the circle so he’s in Eddie’s personal space. Richie looms over him, smelling like cologne and cigarettes and some of the best memories of Eddie’s life. “You don’t wanna keep fate waitin’, do you?”

And then he puts his hand on Eddie’s chin, tilts his face up, and leans down to kiss him. It’s a shallow kiss, dry and chaste, and it only lasts for a handful of seconds.

Just long enough for Eddie’s watch to zero out and start to beep.

[fuck-bowers]

Opposites Attract (Henry Bowers x Reader)

request: the reader is really shy (like me) and she has a huge crush on Henry. Henry finds out one day that she has a crush on him, and he teases and flirts with her and does sexual things to her until he gets her to crack and admit her feelings for him. then Henry asks her to be his girlfriend.

a/n: thank you for the request @kaitlinp0rrini, and I hope you enjoy it! this is the cheesiest thing I’ve ever written

It all started when Clark Freeman, number 52 on the Derry High football team, got tripped by Henry Bowers in the first floor hallway in between class periods five and six. You’d been standing by your locker, organizing your papers for science class, when you saw it go down.

Clark was a complete asshole, not only to you, but to everybody around him, one of those popular jocks who thrived on thinking the world revolved around him. No one had ever challenged that idea before. Henry seemed to take it into his own hands to fulfill such a task single-handedly, while walking towards the cocky quarterback one fateful Monday afternoon.

You’d heard a rumor that the whole football team had a secret fear of the Bowers gang, a club of four delinquents that made games out of terrorizing their peers. You’d never thought much of them, until you turned around and saw a flash of a letterman jacket fly to the floor before you.

Clark gasped as he turned around to see the perpetrator of the crime - Henry Bowers in the flesh, turning around to look at his victim with a sneer.

You froze, anticipating to be in the VIP section of the fight of the century, but saw nothing of the sort transpire.

Clark scrambled to his feet, keeping his eyes on Henry, giving a death glare that was undermined by his body language.

“You wanna fuckin’ go, Bowers?” He asked, though it seemed he didn’t want to know the answer, as he scurried away without another look behind him.

You couldn’t help but start to laugh. It wasn’t something you did often - you were extremely shy, and hated drawing too much attention to yourself. However, it was just too funny. You fucking hated a majority of the football team, it was chock-full of assholes like Clark. Finally, you saw one of them get a taste of their own medicine.

The other witnesses around you looked just as shocked, just as amused, but you were the only one to outright laugh, granting you the momentarily undivided attention of Henry himself.

His eyes locked with yours, and before you could nervously look away, he spoke.

“Somethin’ funny, sweetheart?” Henry questioned with the ghost of a smile. Your eyes widened as his scanned over you, making eye contact once again before stalking off.

That’s all it took for you to develop a crush on the most dangerous boy in school.

Patrick Hockstetter loved people watching.

People watching at Derry High was like studying an ant farm. Students and teachers scattered mindlessly wherever they needed to go, and interacted with each other for arbitrary reasons, and all looked so normal until you picked just one to study and tried to figure out its motives.

Of course, it was never very hard to do, but it was a way to pass the time far better than paying attention to the teacher.

One day in science class, Patrick picked you as a specimen.

Quiet people were usually the most interesting to watch, and were always the best fucks - you were even one of the more attractive girls in that class - but the potential of developing even remote interest in you hinged on whether or not you were entertaining to observe.

You were very entertaining, much more than he anticipated, but not because of your unconscious mannerisms - you’d kept your eyes on Henry for a majority of the class period.

Henry attracted many girls, but Patrick noticed that they were a particular type of girl. The loud, raucous ones, or the dangerous, wild ones made up his fan club. Very rarely would the quiet librarian type develop feelings for him, or at least make it as obvious as you made it, without using words.

Only at the end of class did you turn and notice Patrick staring at you one row over. Face reddening, you looked down as the bell rang, folding your textbook into your arms and walking out of the classroom in a rush.

Henry approached Patrick, hands in his pockets.

“We goin’ downtown today?” He asked, apparently completely oblivious of how you’d stared at him all period. Patrick smiled slyly.

“Sure thing, Henry.”

Patrick intended on telling about you later that night, but that evening he’d completely forgot by the time the Bowers gang was huddled around a table at Barry’s Burgers, and it had completely slipped his mind.

“You guys should’ve fucking seen it.” Henry laughed, taking a bite of his burger. “He fell like a ton of fucking bricks, and ran the fuck away like the pussy he is. It was hilarious.”

The guys laughed with him.

“I would’ve fucking paid to see that. Did any teachers catch you? They basically worship the football team.” Vic sarcastically questioned.

Henry shook his head. “Not this time. Thank fuck. I’ve had enough bad shit with teachers.”

“You had an audience though, right?”

A nod. “Yeah, everyone looked fucking thankful I did it. This girl from my chem class burst out laughing when I did it, like, loud, and she’s one of those quiet girls. He must’ve fucked her over or something.”

Patrick immediately perked up.

“What?”

Henry blinked, taking another bite before his reply and talking as he chewed. “Everyone was happy I tripped that little bitch. You guys should’ve been there. It was like, two months ago.”

“You said a girl was there?”

Henry smiled when he thought of you. He swallowed.

“Yeah, I think her name is Y/N? She’s in our science class. She was there when I tripped him, and she laughed out loud about it. He must’ve fucked her over or something. Or she just hates him like everyone else. Surprised more people didn’t laugh. He’s such a dick.”

Patrick smiled.

“That’s interesting.”

Henry scoffed. “What, have you met Clark? Cuz-”

“Do you like that girl?”

Henry had thought you were hot since the beginning of the year, but had a feeling you were one of those out-of-reach girls, either with a boyfriend, or with standards too high for the head of the Bowers gang, much less any of the other members. Henry rarely attracted shy girls, and he was positive that he’d never heard a single peep out of you before the day he tripped Clark.

“She’s a babe.” Henry said, furrowing his brow at Patrick. “Why?”

Patrick had gained the attention of Vic and Belch, and the whole table stared at him.

“That girl’s totally in love with you. She spent the whole fucking period today staring at you.”

Henry blinked, perplexed, trying to imagine you doing such a thing without him noticing.

“How the fuck would you know?” He asked, nearly insulted.

“I had nothing to fuckin’ do, and I looked around the room and I saw she was fucking staring at you, like, the whole period. Like a freak.”

“Don’t fucking insult her man, you’re a freak.”

“Fuck you.“

Henry had already known about Patrick’s tendency to people-watch. Maybe he was telling the truth. There was no reason for him to lie anyway, and Henry had caught you looking at him a few times.

As Vic and Belch picked up a conversation, the gears in Henry’s head began to turn, and he smiled, turning to his best friend.

“Well, thanks, Pat. I think I’ll put it to the test.”

Patrick rolled his eyes. “You really don’t fuckin’ trust me?”

“I do. I just wanna see how right you are.”

It was perfect, it really was - on most days, you’d sit with desks about two feet apart. On testing days, they’d be even farther apart, sometimes positioned in random opposing directions - but due to an upcoming project, Mrs. Baxter was sure to separate people into partners for the week ahead. Fifteen minutes before the end of class that Friday, Mrs. Baxter began her weekly process.

The two of you had never been paired before. Henry knew full well it was time to strike.

“I think I’ll pair you with Roger this week, Calvin… and Y/N…” the teacher glanced around the room, until she spotted Henry with raised eyebrows, as well as a raised hand.

“Yes, Henry?”

“I’ll be her partner.” He volunteered.

Your heart nearly did a backflip. What was he doing?

Though it caught you off guard, you weren’t about to turn down such an offer.

You swallowed and nodded at a crossed-brow Mrs. Baxter.

“Yeah. We’ve never been partnered up before.” You added. Henry shot a smug glance at you from the back of the room.

“Alright.” She said, moving onto the next student.

It was the protocol to go to your partner and talk about the study guide, start going over the first page if you had the time. As you turned to look at the boy you’d been partnered with, it seemed that he wasn’t going anywhere. You’d have to go to him.

You stood up, your textbook and your notebook wrapped in your arms, nervously walking towards his seat in the last row. You passed Patrick Hockstetter, who wore quite an ominous smirk, staring at you intently. Shifting your gaze to the floor, you continued, looking up only once more to see Henry.

His stare sent waves of butterflies through your stomach, blue eyes bearing the same sly grin that his lips did. He probably loved how nervous you were.

The end of class was near. You could do this.

For a minute, neither of you spoke. Mrs. Baxter reminded everyone of the test date, the material being tested on, and asked everyone to become familiar with their partner and inquire about study sessions outside of class, if possible. No one ever met up for science studies.

Finally, it was silent, and she momentarily left the room, everyone breaking into conversation.

Another moment passed, your mind racing for something to say, wondering if you should say anything at all. That’s when he spoke.

“My friend Patrick said you stare at me a lot in class.”

It felt like your ribs caught fire. You stared down at your paper, embarrassment washing over you. Thanks for that, Patrick.

You swallowed before speaking, organizing your messy thoughts, flipping open your notebook to distract yourself.

You could feel him staring at you merely inches away.

“W-Well, I don’t. He must’ve gotten me mixed up with someone else.”

Henry leaned back in his seat. “You can admit it, babe, a lot of girls are obsessed with me.”

Immediately, you scoffed, underlining sentences of your notes randomly. You refused to look at him.

“I’m not obsessed with you.” You quietly remarked.

“Then why do you stare at me in class?”

You shrugged. “Patrick lied to you.”

“Why would he lie about that?”

You finally turned to him, and your anger was offset by his jovial, entertained expression.

“Patrick is crazy.” You said, as-a-matter-of-factly.

Henry cocked an eyebrow, looking at his nails. 

“I dunno, Y/N. Crazy people stare at other people in class. I’ve never caught Patrick staring at me.”

You let out a sarcastic laugh. “He was staring at me the other day!”

Henry smirked. “Sounds like a match made in heaven. Two crazy people.”

The boy looked at your lips, making you nervous all over again. You turned back to your notes and flipped open the study guide.

“You don’t talk too much, do you?” He teased in a low voice. His voice turned you on.

You hesitated a moment before replying. “You never talk in this class, either.”

“Well, I fucking hate science. Is that your excuse, too?”

The fact that the guy you’d developed a crush on months ago was finally flirting with you now was a high you’d ride out until it died.

“Yeah, science sucks. But… I mean, my friends all say I’m shy. So I guess I really am just shy.”

After a moment of hesitation, you suddenly felt his hand on your knee.

Goosebumps spread over your skin, from your legs up to your back. Henry smiled at you, tracing his nails over your kneecap.

“You’re not being too shy with me, today.” He said.

Your cheeks must’ve been bright red, your heart beating a million miles per hour.

“Neither are you.” You nervously joked.

Mrs. Baxter had left the room. None of the kids facing forward remotely seemed to notice Henry’s advances. At least you didn’t have an audience.

His fingertips gently trailed up your thigh, going further up and further inside. He tightly grasped your leg, making you gasp.

You put your elbow on the table and rested your face against your hand, covering your face from his view.

“I can’t help myself. You’re so fucking hot.”

The compliment made your heart flutter, but also put a bad taste in your mouth. He was probably one of the boys you’d been warned about by your parents and the TV shows - saying anything to butter you up and get in your pants.

Please let the bell ring, you mentally pleaded with the clock on the wall, edging closer to the end of class, his fingers edging the hem of your skirt.

Though part of you absolutely loved the attention, the pursuit from the guy you’d wanted it from most, you were so nervous, so unsure of what to do. Mrs. Baxter reentered the room, and seemed completely oblivious, sitting down at her desk. She was probably used to ignoring Henry.

“Why are you doing this?” You asked, in a nervous yet enthused, moving your arm back down to rest on the table. You didn’t have to look at him to know that he was smiling.

“Cuz I know you like me.”

You rolled your eyes, still turned away from him. “I told you Patrick was lying.”

“Even if he was, I know you still like me.”

You finally turned to look at him.

“How?” You sarcastically questioned. He answered you very simply.

“Because opposites attract, sweetheart.”

Your nerves were at an all time high as he gently moved his hand in between your thighs, ever so slowly, the eye contact single-handedly killing you - right as the bell rang.

“The study guide is due Monday!” Mrs. Baxter said, almost pleading, as the room broke into loud conversation and laughter. In the midst of it all, you quickly stood up, grabbing your books and walking away with them in a rush. Your only goal was to get out of the school as fast as possible, leaving Henry in the dust.

You felt scared, so exhilarated, and you knew there was no real reason for it - but he was too bold, too terrifying, to have anything to do with you.

You threw your books into your backpack and speed-walked out the door, melting into the throng of students moving through the hallway. Within minutes of urgently flowing through the crowd, you made it out the front doors, and finally you felt the first waves of calm. That was, until someone gripped your shoulder.

“Y/N!” Henry Bowers groaned, in an exasperated tone. You nearly jumped, turning around with wide eyes to see him. He was breathing heavily.

“I’m sorry.” He said.

You didn’t expect him to follow you. For a moment, you just stared at him.

“For what?” You asked.

“I think I scared you off.”

You took in a slow breath, unsure of how to phrase your concern.

“I like you, Henry. I just think we’re too different.”

Other students passed by, but the two of you barely noticed, completely focused on the other.

“Sure, we’re pretty different, but it’d be boring if we were the same.”

You looked up at him, blinking in the sunlight. He stepped closer.

“I like you. A lot. And if Patrick wasn’t lying about you starin’ at me, I wanna take a chance on that.”

He smiled, putting his hands into his pockets. You were surprised how he seemed so… Nervous.

“Do you…” He picked up his gaze from the ground and looked at you. “Do you wanna go out?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, hiding all signs of mental explosion that you experienced.

“You mean, hang out after school to study for our test?” You coyly questioned, cocking an eyebrow, unable to hide your growing grin.

“Do you wanna be my girlfriend?” He finally asked, smiling back at you.

He was bold, he was terrifying, but you couldn’t say you didn’t like those things about him. It was true - you had no idea how well you'd do on the test - but you knew for sure in that moment, he’d proven to you that opposites attract.

Holding eye contact, the two of you beamed at each other.

“Of course.” You quietly replied.

[beepbeeprichiellc]

Part 1. Part 2.

His breath was fogging up the glass, his fingers leaving smudges along the smooth surface. The housekeeper was going to have a fit when she saw what he had done, he knew this and yet all he could focus on was the two standing on the front lawn. The thing about Beverly was that she was the perfect wing man-woman-whatever. She always knew the exact way to flaunt what he had as to weed out those suitable for her friends. It was how Richie almost always got laid, excluding for drunken one nighters he occasionally ended up in. When he answered her call he hadn’t expected her to show, knowing that she was recovering from her late night fly in so when she walked onto his property with those short shorts and tank top he knew she was out to kill. Although the look on the pool boy’s face when she advanced told him that he wasn’t falling for her tricks and Richie was afraid he would see right though the shamble.

The truck with chipped paint pulled from the curb, carrying with it his new pool boy. Richie watched it leave, discreetly using the sheer drapes to keep himself hidden. Once the tail lights were around the corner he sighed, banging his head loudly on the glass. There was a gnawing in his stomach, an unimaginable feeling that he wished to just go away. Maybe it was because he hadn’t been laid in over three months, or maybe it was because just the sight the boy made him a blubbering mess but he felt restless.

There was a bang from the back door and Richie nearly ran over to where Beverly stood, her cheeks flushed from the heat. Stopping short of jumping in to his arms he leaned against the countertop, biting his bottom lip nervously. “So?” He sang, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“He’s gay.” She answered, knowing the question without verbal confirmation. “Didn’t even bat an eye when I asked for his number.”

“Hot damn!” Richie nearly yelled in excitement. “Thank god for the little things.”

“Honestly, I don’t think you two would work.” Beverly admitted softly, pulling her sunglasses from her nose and burying them into her hair. There was a twinkle in her eye, like something was brewing in her head. “I mean, he’s just here for the summer and-”

“Well so am I. I’m not looking for a relationship Bevvy, just someone to get dirty with while I’m home.” Richie rolled his eyes, a sly grin stretching from ear to ear. “Don’t dangle him in my face and expect me not to bite.”

“I’m not danling anything in your face.” She nipped, snapping her fingers in his direction. “I just think he isn’t your type. He was all worried about your dad, about his job. He’s a straight shooter and I don’t think you’ll be able to bend him like you want.”

“Okay first off.” He muttered, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose as he looked at his friend amusingly, “He’s gay, so he isn’t a ‘straight’ shooter. Secondly, I’m not gonna bend him unless that’s the way he likes it. I mean I’d like to bend him over a lot of things like that chair or the counter or-”

“Okay fine!” She barked, rubbing the space between her eyes. “Fine, just stop putting that very vivid image in my head.” Glancing back up to her friend she smiled, sighing with contentment as she leaned into the door frame with her hip leading. “You can be so disgusting sometimes, remind me why we are friends again?”

“Because we are the black sheep in our families and that causes us to gravitate towards each other.” He mouthed back quickly, pursing his lips and blowing a very suggestive kiss. “Now tell me, what is that cutie’s name?”

“Eddie.”

“Eddie.” He whispered, the name making his lips tingle. It tasted sour, not the type of sourness that made you cringe but rather the sourness that left your mouth watering, making you beg for more. Richie smiled, running his long nimble fingers through the rats nest he called hair, wincing when he caught a few knots. “Even his name is sexy as hell.”

Beverly scoffed, pushing herself upward and strolling past him with a slight push. “Get dressed.” She commanded, not looking back at him as she began her rampage through his parents fridge. “And hurry up because we have to pick up Bill along the way.”

“Where are we going?” He asked, shamelessly watching his best friend bend over to reach a soda from the bottom self. There was no spark, no need when he looked at her backside but rather a respectable appreciation of its glory.

Slamming the fridge door she replied, “To the beach.”

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

Eddie laid his back on his board, looking up at the clouded sky with fondness. Things began to cool as the storm rolled in, the blueness becoming overpowered by the grey puffs of condensation. He wondered what it would be like to be caught in a storm, really caught under the sheets of rain. There had been glory stories told about surfing during a summer storm and anyone who was everyone knew that it was the best time for such a thing. Stan had done it once, Mike twice but he still had yet to live through the glory. He was afraid, just like he always was, tucking tail and running before the real masterpiece touched down.

Maybe someday.

But not today.

“Well this turned out to be a shitty day.” Stan’s stoic voice came from across the still water. “I skipped my hot yoga class for this?”

“Remind me why you take hot yoga again?” Mike jeered, laughter following his question. “Isn’t that uncomfortable?”

“It’s freeing.” He nipped, splashing water over to where Mike was currently floating. “And like you are one to talk, you are majoring in history! Who fucking does that!”

Eddie smiled, enjoying the banter that followed. It had only been a few days and yet he felt more free here than he would have back at home. When Mike had brought up the idea of the three of them heading to the coast at the end of semester, he had been against it. Too many people, to many unpredictable variables. It took one very long, uncomfortable phone call from his mother to change his mind and even then he had only done it out of spite. Now he was floating in the Pacific Ocean with his two best friends without a care in the world.

“I think we should head in.” Mike’s reassuring voice suggested, making Eddie cringe. “The storm is going to hit soon and the last thing I need is another concussion from surfing.”

“Yeah, and I don’t feel like saving you guys when you drown.” Stan added, turning his board back to the mainland. “I say we head back to the house and order some paper view, maybe some pizza in the process.”

“Both of those things involve money, which mind you, we do not have.”

With a sigh Eddie sat up, looking at his friends with a frown. “You know it’s Stan’s job to be a downer right Mikey?” He joked, starting the long ride in. This made his friend laugh, muttering under his breath that he was just a realist. Once the touched sand Eddie’s stomach sank, the fleeting opportunity passing by him. He dug his feet in, wiggling his toes one last time before stepping out of the salty water. Looking once more to the sky he muttered, “Do you think it’s really gonna rain?”

“Na.” Stan replied, walking ahead towards the parking lot. “I think this place is fucking with us. Our first time out on the water and it’s gonna trick us back to shore.”

“Huh.” Eddie thought it seemed likely, even more so as the so as the sun peered through a storm cloud. “Well that sucks.”

“Life sucks my man.” Mike said, throwing his board on top of his truck. “Don’t worry, we can try tomorrow once you get off.”

This made Eddie shrug, half assuming that he would be fired by tomorrow anyways so why even care about it. The three of them had strapped their things in, taking time to adjust as needed so that the truck would actually make it back home. Eddie had been so busy that he hadn’t noticed the company he had gained, or the eyes that followed him with each move. It was Stan who noticed her, scowling as she approached. “Eddie, I think you've attracted a stray.” He groaned.

“Wha-”

“Eddie!” Beverly’s excitable voice called, her smile widening as she and two others moved closer. “Fancy meeting you here!”

Eddie froze, his body refusing to react as she pulled him into a awkward, one sided hug. Shimmying he was able to drop her hold, forcing a laugh. “Uh hI Beverly. What are you doing here.” He glanced behind her, noticing the Tozier boy who now wore a pair of khaki shorts, a god awful hawaiian shirt and-jesus christ-a pair of bright pink sandals. It seemed that Richie was more confident in person, his eyes bright and exuberant as he watched the exchange. There was also a normal looking boy with soft brown hair and a soft smile, being almost the exact opposite of his friend that stood beside him. “Are you following me?”

“What? No!” She pushed against his shoulder playfully, “The beach sounded like a good place to be so I decided to come down here with some of my friends, same as you.”

He was being stalked, Eddie just knew it.

“Hi, I’m Mike.” The kind hearted boy muttered, breaking the tension and extending his hand out to the rich girl. “And this is Stan.” He gestured to the unamused boy. “How do you know Eddie?”

Beverly smiled, taking hold of Mike’s hand and shaking it. “We met this morning, he was working on Richie’s lawn when I came over.”

“Ah, leave it to Eddie to make new friends on the first day in town.” Mike jokes, laughing at his friends expense. “So you’re Beverly, who are these two?”

“Oh! This is Bill.” She motioned to the calmer of the two, “And Richie himself.” The jumpy kid waved, a cheeky smile crossing his face instantly. “So you guys are new in town huh? Where are you staying?”

“Oh in my parents old beach house down the street. It’s not much but it’s a roof over our heads.” Eddie frowned, he liked the cozy home. It felt safe, and warm to him. More so than his own home back in Derry. “What are you guys from the upper east side or something?”

“Yep.” Beverly replied, “Hey since you guys are new why don’t we show you around. You have no idea where the good hanging spots are yet and there is a bar a few blacks down that has the best mixed drinks. What do you say? First round on me.” Eddie could not have been shaking his head any more, his ears ringing painfully as Mike replied for all of them with a genuine smile.

“Sounds fun.”

Pool Boy Eddie Tag:

@softuris @snooxyspazz @ihavesympathyforthedevil @reddieornox @addimagination @tozierbinch @loadsofgayy @helfeatencupquakes @pankoozie @moved-to-some-raging-fangirl @strangerl0ser @letsgetreddietorumble @oh-mayfield @superbcoffeekid @iamworried7 @ephemeral-elipisis @stan-tozier-denbrough @im-alover @tapetayloe

[floralreddie]

falling in love with Richie Tozier: part 10 (when they’re adults. FINALE)

taglist: @pearltheartist@mikoalabearwrites @arielgirly @trashmouth-smashmouth@mzcescapie @somenates27@reddiesballoons @cawcawhawkeye @richietoaster @sassy-molassy @fuckin-richie

this is the final part. thank you so much to everyone who followed these little imagines! i love u all lots xx

i obviously changed that they forget again but FUCK THAT

side note: i did a small smut thing for these. it’s on my masterlist x

the day after is an entire blur

it is Richie who insists he call Eddie’s wife, though you are all well aware the woman was not in love with Eddie, nor Eddie her. Richie tells you that he could hear, though, in her voice how distraught she was

you all make up a story. a story of an accident and an animal down in the sewers of Derry, when you were looking around the places you would explore as children

the policeman narrow their eyes, because they know you know Mike Hanlon who was admitted to Hospital, but like most in Derry they don’t ask anymore questions

you all gather in the Hospital after leaving the sewers, after leaving It’s corpse and watching as Eddie’s body was piled into a body bag, and you hold Richie as he sobs, and Ben holds Bev, and Bill holds Audra

and there is nothing that can be said

none of you talk, not even as the police drive the six of you to the Hospital

you get stitches where you need them, all of you, and Ben and Bev had back to the hotel, and Bill stays with Audra as she wakes up, and you and Rich pile into Mike’s room and tell him what happened

and Mike cries

and you hold his hand and nod, tears streaming down your face, because there was once a world where the Losers were everything to each other, and now two of you are gone from the world forever

you sleep in the hotel that night, you and Richie wrapped close to each other, and you hold him as he cries and you bury your face in his dark and greying curls

in the morning, you all start to checkout, knowing that you’ll be seeing each other soon enough (bc it is unsaid but Richie gave Eddi’s wife all of your numbers so that she could contact you all for the funeral)

because Eddie’s bodies is already probably in New York by now, and the thought makes you feel sick

you all hug each other and smile, and you meet Bill (Audra is still in care, but awake) and Mike at the hospital and tell them you WILL see them soon, and that you love them

and Bev and Ben hold each other

and you and Richie leave together

leave Derry

(in separate cars, but they are both rentals and Richie changed his ticket so you both fly to LAX together)

and you know you will never see the sorry town ever again, because It was gone and there was so reason to return anymore

and you think of the memories

of the parties

and the days at the Quarry

and the arcade

and as you hold Richie’s hand and breathe as the flight takes off, he sighs and nudges you lightly, decked out in a denim jacket, a black shirt and dirty shoes, and he says to you, ‘Will you marry me, doll?’

and you smile tiredly

and you nod

it takes a week for you to move into his house in Beverly Hills, which is big and flashy and not your thing at all, but even in the few days that you move in (you both took a month off of work, despite the anger from your employers), you begin to sprinkle your candles, your books, your tapestries and your pictures all about the house

and you text Bev

and you force yourself not to forget

you put pictures everywhere, and you call Mike everyday and you set an alarm on your phone so you remember

a week after you have moved in and a day before you travel to New York for Eddie’s funeral, you say to Richie, ‘Are you forgetting?’

and he’s standing in the kitchen in his boxers and glasses on (they’re thick rimmed, but not so much as the ones he wore when he was younger) because he doesn’t have any contacts in, and he looks at you with a small smile and he shakes his head

and you smile as you sit on the counter in his band shirt, because you’re so fucking thankful

you have an engagement ring on your fingers that’s simple and gold, and you’re not really sure when you’re going to get married, but you’re not too bothered as long as its to Richie

you know that he has money from his career, and you have money from yours, but you’re not bothered about a large wedding

you travel to New York and meet Eddie’s wife, and you and the Losers have dinner and Ben and Ben arrive together, wedding bands on both their hands and Richie mutters, ‘Had to fucking one up us, didn’t they?’

Audra doesn’t come with Bill, to which he coughs and says, ‘She didn’t really fancy meeting you guys after last time. She’s still pretty, um, messed up about it’.

‘Can’t really blame her,’ Bev mutters

you eat and talk and take joy in the fact that you can all be normal again, and the waitress never asks why Bev called up and booked a table for eight when their are only six of you 

but you all know that the empty seat next to Bill and the empty seat next to Richie are somehow not empty at all, but no one says anything

it is when Bev turns down yet another drink that you narrow your eyes at her from across the table and she rolls her eyes and says, ‘Well, we weren’t going to say anything, but its pretty hard not to with you fucking alcoholics around’.

she blinks to Ben, who grins, and says, ‘I’m pregnant’

you choke on your chicken

Richie slaps you on the back

the next day, you all gather in some church in downtown New York, and you all sit on the same row

and it’s a nice service

and there’s a picture of Eddie at the front, and they play slow music and his wife speaks

and so do you all, though it’s only a few words each

about Eddie, and how good he was, and how funny, and how strong, and how brave

and you feel sad

because none of you got to celebrate Stan in this way

you see the Losers twice that year after that, once for Ben and Bill’s wedding in Chicago, and another for yours and Richie’s wedding in Malibu

both quiet

you and Richie have your first dance to Love Song by The Cure

and you dance with Mike, Bill and Ben

and your mother, who still cannot believe that she forgot Richie beams the whole night

and it is not formal by any means, because it’s you and Richie

and you make a life in Malibu after you marry, because it’s the perfect place for both of you

and the house is by the sea

and Richie works alongside a man that reminds you so much of Eddie, and you keep in touch with all of the Losers

and a few weeks after your wedding you get a call that Bev had a girl, and she named her Grace, and she sends pictures to you all the group chat that Richie made and titled The Losers Club

you and Richie decided to never have children, because you know full well that such a thing is just not for either of you

of course, that doesn’t stop it from happening when you’e 41

you wait three months to tell him, because you’re scared that you’re too old, but when nothing happens you wait until he’s come back from a day of filming and you’ve finished your day shift at work, and silently pass him a large glass of gin, and tell him, ‘Richie, darling, I’m pregnant’

he drinks the whole glass in one go, nods for a full minute, and then kisses you on the mouth

you tell the others and they are thrilled, and Bev expresses her sorrow for whatever child Richie Tozier will raise

to which he sends her a middle finger

you ask Richie if he’s sad his parents will never get to meet their grandkid, to which he replies, ‘like they would give a shit, doll’

and you nod, because it’s true

being pregnant is odd, and Richie does not leave you the fuck alone

he does less shooting

he makes you fucking meals every day full of nutrients, and he reads about a billion baby books because he’s terrified he’s going to be a shit parent 

you know he doesn’t sleep because of it, so you stroke his hair every night as he presses his ear to your belly and talks to the baby

you don’t find out the sex

you paint the spare room pinks and blues and yellows and greens, all soft and all colourful, and Richie plays the baby AC/DC and Led Zepplin and assures you the baby will have good music taste

when you go into labour, it fucking long and horrible and Richie has a good seven freaks out and faints once, but he’s there the whole time and it’s painful and shit, but when that cry breaks through the rush of doctors (and you’re not used to being the patient), you know all your doubts about being a mother were wrong

because when Edward Richard Tozier is placed into your arms, you and Richie blubber and stare at him, with his dark eyes and his dark hair, like he is the fucking sun

you grow older, and so does your son

you have another gathering with the Losers when he is five months old, and you meet in LA. Grace is ginger and blue eyed, and Bill tells everyone that Audra is pregnant and it is a boy, and they are going to name him Stanley

but when he says it, he grins

and Mike meets his godson, Edward

and Bill meets his goddaughter, Grace

and, somehow, you can’t quite believe that you’re all the same people who became friends on that fateful day that Ben fell into the river, injured and scared

Edward, who Richie adores and loves and calls Ed’s and his little Dude, is a quiet and happy baby who is the image of his father, and when his curly hair begins to show you want to cry with happiness

and you’re a clumsy mother at first, but you get the hang of it

and Richie dresses him in silly shirts and adores him, and he’s a better dad than you could ever have guessed he would be, and

and you work, and Richie becomes famous in America

and you grow older

and you talk when you can with the Losers, hearing what is happening in their lives, and Mike tells what Derry is like now and how it changes without It there

when you are 71 years old and your son is working as a Physiotherapist in LA, Richie gets cancer

and he dies with his hand in yours and his brown eyes on your old face, and he smiles and says, ‘we’ll be waiting for you, doll’

and your son, so much like Richie was at his age, holds you as you sob and insist it was too soon, you wanted more time for the years you had lost

you get a call a year later that Bev had passed

then five years later it is Ben

then Mike (and your heart breaks so much so that you wonder how you are still living)

you talk to Bill weekly, reminiscing 

and then, suddenly, you are 82 years old and you are sleeping, and as you sleep you dream of Derry in summer, with it’s high trees and sunlight peeking through the leaves, and the sound of Bev laughing as she smoked, of Eddie giggling and pushing Richie into the water, and of Ben and Mike talking about the History of the town

and you fall

and you fall

and Richie catches you

except as you open your eyes, you’re ankle deep in water and the sun is blinding, and the face staring back at you is of a fourteen year old Richie Tozier with his skinny hands on your arms, his thick lenses glasses on his freckled face, and his toothy grin as bright as the sun

‘took ya long enough, doll. Jeeeeeze’.

you laugh, and your laugh is young and youthful and you know you’re her again, the girl of your childhood who was happy and free, you kiss Richie’s cheek and you cry when you see the others standing behind him

you hug Eddie and Stan and kiss their noses, and then Bev and Ben and Mike

and you all laugh and splash water at each other

and you climb up the Quarry again and jump into the water, hands clasped

‘just fucking jump, Ed’s! It’s not like you can die again!’ Richie yells, hair wet as he sways in the water next to you

Bev snorts

and you all think of the people you left behind, but you know that they are fine. Richie murmurs this to you as you sit in the water one day, and he looks older somehow, as if you are ageing here but not ageing at all at the same time

and time is no concept where you are

Eddie corners you and Richie and hugs the both of you, thanking you for naming your son after him

and Richie shoves him and tells him to grow a fucking pair, but his eyes are wet and his cheeks are pink

but one day

there is a shift, and suddenly something seems to snap into place with all of you

and you all turn, together, to look to the shoreline

and you see a glint of red hair and wide blue eyes, and you’e all running to him, arms outstretched and laughter on your tongues

‘shit, Big Bill, there you are!’

and you all hug him and pull him into the water, and the fourteen year old Bill Denbrough, the leader, pulls Stan to him and hugs is best friend as Stan says sorry, curly hair damp and tears on his cheeks

and you stand in the water, ankle deep and looking at each other

and you grin as you all link hands, standing in the circle that would never be broken again

your family

the people you would spent eternity with playing and laughing as you did when you were children, the happiest time of your eventful life

The Losers Club was of eight again

[a-second-hand-sorrow]

In That Moment (Stan Uris X Reader)

WC: 1779

Warnings: Mentions of injury, cursing

Summary: Y/N visits Stan after his near death experience, and Stan decides to say some things he's kept hidden for a while

Tagged: @fly-like-a-grayson @ahhhhamilton @lildipstick @bellasabb

A/N: My first IT fic! Hope y'all enjoy!

Y/N Y/L/N stood on the front porch of the Uris household, clutching a bouquet of flowers in her sweaty hands.

She had come to see Stan, who had only just finished his brief stint in the local hospital. The doctors claimed that Stan had serious wounds around his face, which was no shock to Y/N and the rest of the Losers.

However, only the Losers knew exactly how those wounds got there, and they knew that no adult would believe the truth.

Y/N took in a deep breath and rung the doorbell, the chiming sound magnified, thanks to her anxious mind.

Normally she would only be somewhat anxious around Stan, thanks to the ‘fucking obvious’ crush she had on him (according to Richie). However, Stan’s breakdown in the sewers played in her head on repeat, his harsh words still cutting Y/N deeply.

She was suddenly torn from her thoughts by the sound of a creaking door hinge, and she snapped her head towards the doorway.

“Oh, hello Y/N. I take it you're here to see Stan?” Mrs Uris said, smiling as she gestured to the flowers in Y/N’s hands.

“Yes, Mrs Uris.” Y/N said shyly, and Stan’s mother let out a soft chuckle at the girl’s formal tone.

“Well he's up in his bedroom. You don't need me to show you where that is.” She said, laughing softly to herself as she ushered Y/N into the house.

A crimson blush swept over Y/N’s cheeks at the older woman’s words. Y/N and Stan had been inseparable since they were young, and Mrs Uris found it endearing how close the two were.

"Stanley! You've got a visitor.” Mrs Uris called, and there was a slight grunt of a reply from upstairs.

"He's all yours.” With those words Y/N took in a deep breath and walked upstairs, the stairs squeaking under her feet.

She made her way up to the top, and automatically moved towards Stan’s bedroom. Her hand rested gently on the doorknob, and she took in a deep breath before twisting it, opening the door.

“Y/N.” Stan breathed out as her face came into his line of vision. She gave him a weak smile, closing the door behind her as she entered his room.

"Hey. How are you feeling?” Y/N said, setting the flowers down on Stan’s desk before sitting down on the end of his bed.

"You brought me flowers?” Stan asked suddenly, and Y/N’s face started to go pink.

"Yeah. I thought, you know, because you nearly died, flowers would be kind of appropriate? God, that sounded so weird.” Y/N said, cursing under her breath.

A chuckle slipped past Stan’s lips, and he winced slightly at the action. “I think it's sweet.” He said, and Y/N’s eyes went wide.

"Y-y-you do?” Y/N said and Stan nodded tentatively, a hesitant smile on his face.

"Be careful Y/N, you're starting to sound like Bill.” Stan said, and Y/N let out a loud laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"So, has anyone else stopped by yet?” Y/N asked, shuffling a little bit closer to Stan.

"Not yet. You're the first.” Stan said gently, and Y/N felt her stomach fill with butterflies.

Y/N looked up at him shyly and caught a glimpse of love in Stan’s eyes, and she felt the butterflies in her stomach increase in number.

They sat there together for a few seconds in silence, Y/N fiddling with the hem of her shorts and Stan fidgeting with his sheet.

"Did you mean what you said down there? You know, that we weren't your friends.” Y/N said, and Stan let out a shaky breath.

"Well, uh, at the time, I guess I meant it. But I certainly don't now.” Stan said, and Y/N’s blush grew darker as he scooted closer to her.

"For someone who had a near death experience, you, uh, you look pretty good.” Y/N said, a sudden burst of confidence spurring on her words.

Stan’s cheeks went bright red, which didn't help the somewhat dorky appearance he had, thanks to the giant bandage wrapped around his face.

“I, uh, thanks.” Stan stammered, his gaze directed towards his bare feet that hung off the edge of his bed.

“You're welcome, Stan.” Y/N muttered, her brief moment of courage gone and the adrenaline quickly leaving her system.

Stan felt a smile creep across his face as he bravely looked up, training his eyes on Y/N.

He noted just how cute she looked with her cheeks that pink, and he chuckled internally when he noticed that she was wearing Beverly’s shirt.

Girls share everything, apparently, and he remembered Y/N telling him that.

"Hey, Bev. Here's your dress back.” Y/N said, passing Beverly the article of clothing.

“Y/N, why do you have Bev’s dress?” Eddie asked, tilting his head in curiosity.

“I bet they fucked. That's so hot.” Richie said, and he was met with a sharp whack to the stomach from Stan.

“God, Tozier. Bev lent me her dress because I had nothing to wear out to this family event, and she happened to have a nice dress in my size.” Y/N said, and Beverly nodded in agreement.

“That's so weird. I don't share my clothes with Eddie. That being said, if he ever wore my clothes they'd probably come back with some STD from his mom.” Richie said, and everyone in the group let out a groan.

“Richie can you shut the fuck up for a second?” Stan said, and Richie just shrugged his shoulders, leaning back on his hands.

“Girls just share clothes with each other. It's cheaper than having to buy new clothes every month.” Beverly said, and Y/N nodded, a smile bright on her face.

Stan felt his stomach flip at the thought of Y/N dressed up. He had only ever seen her in shorts and t-shirts, with the odd basic dress here and there.

She was beautiful no matter what she wore, that Stan was absolutely sure of.

“Y/N, I, uh, I need to tell you something.” Stan said, and Y/N looked up at him with wide eyes.

“Fire away, Uris.” Y/N said, and Stan inhaled deeply, bravely reaching out to take Y/N’s hand in his.

A squeak slipped past Y/N’s lips, and she felt her entire face grow hot at the contact between the two of them.

“Well, I've been holding onto this for a while, and I've been contemplating whether or not to tell you, but then this happened and I thought ‘I have to do this.” Stan said quickly, gesturing to the bandage around his face with his free hand.

"Uh huh.” Y/N said, nodding her head slowly, still trying to process what was happening.

"I really like you Y/N. I think you're adorable, incredibly smart, and so funny. When I was down in the sewers, I kept thinking ‘I’m going to die without telling Y/N how I feel’, and that scared me more than that goddamn clown ever could.” Stan said, and Y/N felt her heart beat at an unnatural speed.

“Stan.” She whispered, drawing the boy’s full attention to her. She grabbed his other hand and held it softly, lacing her fingers with his.

Stan’s eyes were wide in surprise. He was shocked that Y/N felt the same, because he'd always assumed his crush on her was unrequited.

“Yeah?” He whispered, trying to calm his erratic breathing as Y/N looked at him.

“You are by far the sweetest boy in Derry, and I’ll be damned if anyone thinks otherwise.” Y/N said, and Stan’s blush grew drastically darker.

Y/N tentatively placed a hand on the side of Stan’s face, and he hissed slightly.

“Oh my god I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to.” Stan cut Y/N’s rambling off with a kiss.

Y/N’s eyes widened when Stan’s lips made contact with her own, but they closed quickly, melting into the kiss.

His lips were soft and warm, tasting somewhat of buttered popcorn. Y/N bravely moved her hands up to Stan’s mop of curly hair, running her finger through it lightly.

Stan’s hands rested on the back of Y/N’s neck, fiddling slightly with the tag of her, no, Beverly’s, shirt.

Y/N pulled away slowly, and she noticed that Stan’s eyes were still half closed, a dopey grin on his face.

“You can open your eyes, Stan.” She said, and Stan opened his eyes slowly, a sheepish grin on his face.

“Sorry.” He muttered, his forehead resting against Y/N’s, his warm breath hitting her face.

She scrunched up her nose slightly, and Stan let out a soft laugh. “Don't laugh at me, Uris.” Y/N said, and Stan’s laugh grew louder as he moved his face away from Y/N’s.

“I'll let it go, but only because you're cute.” Y/N muttered, pecking Stan’s cheek softly.

He smiled widely at Y/N, wrapping his arms around her. Suddenly the peaceful air of the room was disrupted by a cacophony of all too familiar voices.

“Finally!”

“Thank God.”

“You go Stan the man!”

A groan escaped Stan’s lips as he looked up to see all his friends standing there, clutching a variety of gifts.

"What are you guys doing here?” Stan asked, somewhat impatiently, and a smirk spread across Beverly’s face.

“We came to see you, of course, by request of someone… special.” Beverly said, and Y/N glanced nervously up at Stan.

They both gave the rest of the Losers a strange look, and Richie let out an annoyed sigh.

“Stan’s mom snitched and said that Y/N was here, and that it might be a good idea to visit.” Richie said, and both Stan and Y/N turned an even brighter shade of red.

"Clearly your mom can read people well.” Ben said, smiling brightly at his two friends cuddled up together.

“I'm just glad the two of you finally fessed up. You look a lot happier.” Mike said, and Stan kissed the top of Y/N’s head.

“Ok, we get it, you're in love. Now move over Y/N, we've got gifts for the man of the hour!” Richie said and laughter crossed the room as Y/N stood up.

She glanced over at Stan, an overjoyed look on his face as he received gift after gift, and realised that she would never be happier than she was in that moment

[heavenlyuris]

Lucky 13 - Chapter 4: A Promise To Be Broken

Chapter 3 x Chapter 5

Lucky 13 Official Playlist - Chapter 4 Exclusive Playlist

read on ao3

a/n: this took a while but i hope you guys arent mad about it :’)

Jonathan could see it now.

He never noticed it before, maybe because it wasn’t there, but it definitely was now. He didn’t know how long it had been there, or how powerful it was, but it was there. The connection between Mike and Will was obvious.

At first, he believed Mike spent so much time at their house for El, because Mike was most obviously crushing on his new little sister, he had heard from Nancy about the kiss at the Snow Ball last year, and how enamored the young Wheeler was by Eleven.

But somewhere along the lines, things changed. Recently, actually. He feels as if it was something he should have figured out before. But he didn’t.

To be fair, he was busy. It was December, and the high school had just a week until they were free for Winter Break. Jonathan was stressed. He had to balance school work, his portfolio for NYU, his relationship with Nancy, and his very odd, newfound friendship with Steve Harrington.

It was weird, how easy he got along with Steve when they were not fighting. They had a lot in common, the most odd being a taste in music. It was often that when Nancy was too busy studying to accompany Jonathan to take pictures for his portfolio, then it was Steve that went with him. They would often drive to the street just outside of Derry, park alongside the road, and venture into the treeline for Jonathan to take picture of the wildlife. More often than not, they drove much farther than they needed to, belting out the words to songs from a mixtape Jonathan had brought.

It was one of those times now, they had hadn’t driven at all this time, instead choosing to fight the bitter cold of Derry to snap a few shots of their new hometown. A comfortable silence overcame them as Jonathan trained his camera at the street sign of an intersection. ‘The Corner of Neibolt & Jackson’ Jonathan had written when his camera spit out the picture, he quickly tucked the picture into his bag, turning around and heading forward on Jackson street.

“They’re getting me my own place.” Steve spit out. Jonathan looked at him, eyebrow quirked. “The dudes. They’re paying for an apartment for me.” Jonathan realized that Steve was talking about the government officials overseeing their stay in Derry.

Usually, they didn’t have contact with the government, mostly when they first had moved to Derry. Steve and Billy’s new cars, Hopper’s new job on the Derry Police Force, their houses. It was all consolation, making up for the lives they essentially ruined by allowing Hawkins Lab to do what they did.

“That’s awesome.” Jonathan said, quietly. He didn’t quite know what to say, they didn’t have too many conversations outside scream-singing, or Steve asking why Jonathan chose to ‘snap a picture of that crack needle.’

“Yeah, I’m thinking about having a party on New Years. The kids and us, you know? They need some fun, they’ve all been really on edge since we moved here.” Steve explained.

“Cool.” Jonathan said, fiddling with his camera again, lifting it up to his eye and snapping a picture, making sure it was in focus.

“One of Dustin’s friends said something happened with Will.” Stave said.

Jonathan’s head snapped towards the other man. “What?”

“The little kid, Eddie from across the street. Said he hoped Will was okay after his epileptic episode.”

Jonathan was confused. “What? Will doesn’t have epilepsy.”

Steve’s eyebrows furrowed this time. “Oh, well they said he had a little bit of an episode in the arcade, so I don’t know, man.” Jonathan’s heart sank. An episode? Could it have been….

-

Max was used to being the only girl.

When she had chased The Party last year, she had been the only girl. Of course, she learned about El, but she wasn’t there then. It was quickly after the gate had been closed and Max and El actually took time to themselves that El realized that Max wasn’t a threat to her.

But it was different when you’re the only girl in a group of friends with 10 other boys. The big group wasn’t able to blend into the walls anymore. People noticed them, noticed that they were exclusive to hanging out with each other. A nickname that the original seven had earned last year apparently stuck, and now Max was the sole female member of the new and improved Loser’s Club of Derry High.

A fact not lost on Gretta Keene, who had made it her personal goal to make Max’s life a living hell since she first laid eyes on her. Max, who was now known as ‘fire-crotch’ or ‘Beaverly 2.0’ did not take too kindly to this.

She was spending the last week before Winter Break on suspension after she had decided that her skateboard was the perfect projectile to launch at Gretta.

She spent most of those days with Eleven, even showing her a couple of things from her homework packets.

“Max…” Eleven’s small voice came from Max’s side.

“Yeah, El?” Max answered.

“I did something bad.”

“What? What did you do?”

“I used my powers.”

“Oh……kay? You do that almost every day. What’s the problem?”

“I used them…..Bill saw.” El was struggling to find the right words, now.

“What? When?”

“92 days ago.” Eleven twiddled her fingers. She then went on to explain the event as best she could. Slowly, Max gathered that while she used her powers in front of Bill, he didn’t actually see her using any kind of powers. And that there was a balloon.

“Well, I think that it’s okay. They haven’t said anything about it, so they can’t know.” Max said, putting her homework into her folders. “Come on, let’s get the board set up.” The Party was having their first D&D campaign as just the six of them for the first time in a while.

El smiled. “Yes. Let’s.”

-

Stan decided there was definitely something up with the six kids from Hawkins.

He thought that as he was sitting on the couch in Bill’s living room. They were all writing letters to Beverly, as they do every month, as a group. Bill and Ben send letters to her nearly every week, but they all kept in touch by sending one as a group to her. They often took that time to write individual letters to her as well.

He thought about her story, what she saw in the lights. He hadn’t told the club that he had seen any lights himself. They simply thought that It had been trying to devour him, but he knew that wasn’t it. That the scars littering his skin were the first step to It’s plan. The images It showed Stan were the second step. Stan knew that following the next steps were all his own choice, but he couldn’t help it.

He was shaken out of his thoughts as a hand softly landed on his shoulder. His eyes followed the hand up an arm, towards a shoulder, and finally up to a pale, lensed face. Richie.

“Stan? It’s your turn to write.” Richie said, holding out the postcard and lined paper to him. Stan took the items from his hands, and quickly signed the post card. He set the lined paper on the table.

Four paragraphs already adorned the paper. Ben’s, Eddie’s, Richie’s, and finally Mike’s. Stan’s was always the fifth paragraph down. Bill liked to end the letters, which he would usually send off to the post office on the groups behalf.

Stan didn’t really want to write anything, but he was able to scrounge up some words about how he missed her, and that high school was way different than middle school (She seemed super, super happy when she found out that Stan had indeed managed to skip 8th grade). Ending it with how he passed his quiz in geometry. He passed the letter lazily to Bill.

Much to his surprise, Bill handed the letter directly to Ben, asking the other boy to seal it and stamp it, he then turned back to Stan, nodding past the other boy to the staircase, then promptly got up, knowing Stan would follow, which he did.

When they were sealed inside of Bill’s room, he turned to Stan. Within only three months, Bill had managed to surpass Stan’s previous reign as tallest loser. Bill steeled his ocean eyes directly into Stan’s. “Wh-what is….what’s the matter?” Bill asked after a moment.

“What do you mean? Nothing’s wrong.” Stan said, bringing his hands from his hips and folding them over his chest.

Bill mirrored Stan’s pose. “No, s-something is definitely up. You’ve b-barely hung out with m-me since school started. I know th-that th-this s-s-s-“ Bill swallowed thickly. “I know this sss-summer sucked, buh-but I miss spending time w-with you.” Bill stated, now looking at the floor.

Stan should have known this wasn’t some kind of forceful interrogation. Bill was simply worried about him, and missed him. “It’s nothing Bill, really. I mean, of course it’s something, but it’s something I have to push through. This summer, my life changed. All of our lives changed. Now with Dustin and Lucas and them here, I don’t think things are ever gonna be normal again, and you know how that makes me feel.” And Bill did, he knew how much Stan hated change.

“Yeah, I g-guess I sh-should have b-b-been trying harder to hang out with y-y-you, like Richie does.” Bill says, looking even more dejected.

“No, Bill, it’s….it’s not your fault, really. You and Eddie, you guys are still my best friends, I swear. It’s just…Richie is the only other one who I can spent hours with and not have what happened this summer brought up. Richie and his stupid jokes are the only things that feel the same.” Stan says, tears gathering in his eyes.

His stomach jumped as Bill wrapped his arms around Stan’s waist and brought their chests together. Bill waited a few beats, knowing that if Stan didn’t similarly wrap his arms around him then he wasn’t okay with the touch. The tension eased as Stan wrapped his arms around Bill’s shoulders, and they embraced for the first time in months. Bill finally spoke. “I promise..” Bill started, swallowing the stutter that was surely trying to come out. “I promise that I’ll try my best to make things normal for you again. Even if that means making a new normal.” Bill’s arms squeezed a bit at that. “But you have to promise me you’ll try and be okay.”

Stan’s grip almost faltered. He knew it would come to this, knew there would be plenty of lies told. And he prepared himself, he didn’t let his grip loosen, didn’t let the confidence seep out of his voice. “I promise.”

Another promise he was going to break.

-

Finally, snow arrived in Derry.

One day after the school let out for winter break, the ground of Derry was covered in about two inches of the white powder.

And finally, it was time for one of Richie’s favorite events of the year, the Loser Club’s annual snowball fight. It was usually just the original four. Bill and Eddie vs. Richie and Stan. Richie and Stan were currently the reigning champs, and had won the past 3 years. The rules were simple, whichever team was covered in the most snow after an hour lost. Stan being Stan, was naturally good at everything. He had great aim, and was very adept at dodging and weaving.

But now, with the inclusion of Mike and Ben, and the party, there were 12 kids taking part in this years, the teams were a bit different now. They decided that on this first day, it would be The Loser’s Club vs The Party.

Richie looked on with extreme excitement when Mike stepped forward, tall and proud as The Party’s team captain. He looked Richie dead in the eyes, and an entire wave of confusion washed over the whole party when Richie flashed a devious smile, took a few steps back, and let Bill stand in front of Mike.

Bill was, without a doubt, their fearless leader, after all. Richie watched as the two tall boys shook hands, agreeing on a half hours time to prepare for the fight. Snowballs, any defensive structures, and placing of their teams. The fight was taking place in the Barrens, and the Losers’ Club had the home field advantage.

Whenever you’ve been hit with three snowballs, you’re out.

Richie was once again paired with Stan this year, they were a dream team, a dynamic duo, they were unstoppable. Stan hadn’t been hit with a snowball in two years! They were gonna own this, and not without some trash talk from the trash mouth himself!

“Hey Mike! When we kick your ass you gotta let me hook up with your sister, yeah!?” Richie yelled across the stream, towards the other boy.

Mike simply threw a disgusted face and flipped him the bird before running off with the quiet girl, Jane.

Eddie and Ben were making the snowballs, quickly, but making sure there were no rocks lodged inside of them. Bill and Mike were busying themselves by hoisting up sticks and leaning them on the trees, creating a little bit bigger spaces to hide behind, in case of invasion.

Stan and Richie were running down the stream. Stan, the tactical genius that he is, planned that if two of them circled around, not only would they most likely have the element of surprise, but they would avoid being hit in case all six other kids stormed across the river, and they could take them down from the inside out.

“Now, that means you have to keep your trash mouth shut, trashmouth.” Stan instructed as they hurried down the riverbed.

Richie simply smirked, and waited until Stan said it was time to attack.

After waiting what seemed like forever, Stan finally scooped up snow, formed it into a ball, handed it to Richie and made another one for himself. Stan nodded past him and they began to cross the river bed into enemy territory.

Richie couldn’t see anyone except for Stan. It was still snowing lightly, and the boys had a fair amount of snow accumulating in the curls that tuck out from beneath each of their beanies. The snow was not crunchy, and completely diffused any sound their footsteps could make, so they had to keep a sharp eye out for anyone else.

After a fe minutes of walking, Stan grabbed Richie’s wrist and pulled him behind a tree. Richie stared into Stan’s eyes as Stan stared back.

“Get down!” Stan yelled, pulling Richie into a crouching position as three snowballs splattered against the tree where their heads had just been. The two losers sped around the other side of the tree, and dashed opposite of the way that the snowballs had come.

A few minutes of sprinting, and weaving so that they dodged the snowballs that the ones following them threw. Stan and Richie looked at each other, knowing what to do.

Once they hit a familiar clearing, they turned ninety degrees and dashed away from each other. Once right inside the tree line, Richie stopped, ducking behind a tree and peeking out to see his attackers arrive in the clearing.

Dustin and Lucas were the first to show. They each clutched a single snowball, scanning the small clearing in sync. Soon, another body appeared, and MadMax herself walked between the two boys, a devious smirk on her lips and a snowball in each hand. With the snow caught in her long, uncapped hair, she really did look like winter fire.

Richie scooped up snow, rolled two snowballs and counted the seconds.

After exactly 10 seconds, he saw Dustin get beamed right in his head with a snowball, a matching one following soon after in the shoulder. Richie took aim and lobbed one of his at the curly haired boy, hitting him in the chest. He threw the other in his hand at Max, but she noted where the third snowball came from and backed up just in time, the snowball nearly catching her in the head as she sprinted back the way she came.

Lucas was not as in sync with her, as he threw his snowball into the opposite tree line. Richie knew he missed when, with precision, another snowball came sailing out, exploding into powder on his brown jacket. Richie scooped up snow as Lucas did the same. Richie ran out of the trees with a scream, and Lucas whirled around, confused as another snowball came sailing out of the opposite side, beaming him in the head. Richie dealt the last blow with his snowball, and Lucas looked shocked.

Stan waltzed out from the opposite tree line as Dustin and Lucas looked on, dazed and out of the game. Stan wore a smirk as he held out a hand for a high five. Richie enthusiastically raised his own to meet the other boy when he felt the sharp sting of a snowball pelting his back.

Turning around, he saw the red-haired devil herself, smirking, before she turned around and sprinted back into the woods.

Almost immediately, Stan and Richie took off after her, Lucas and Dustin screaming “RUN MAX!” as well.

Following what he believed to be a flicker of red hair, Richie didn’t realize how long he had been running, until he came to a rocky part of the barrens, and realized where he was. The entrance of the sewers lay ahead of him, and a boy stood, staring at the wide open mouth of the entrance, with what looked like the remnants of a snowball hit splattered on his right shoulder

Richie scooped up snow and formed a snowball, slowly stepping towards the boy that he now recognized as Will. Carefully, he spoke. “Hey, don’t you know what hiding means?” He prepared to chuck his snowball, but Will did not turn around, just kept staring at the sewers.

Horrified, Richie lowered his arm and grabbed the other boys shoulders, whirling him around himself. “Will? Are you okay?”

Will’s unfocused eyes now seemingly readjusted, looking at Richie’s face. “What? Yeah I’m-“ He was cut off by a snowball smacking him dead in the face. Whipping his head around, Richie saw a seemingly pissed off Eddie, eyes glaring at the pair.

Richie looked at Will, who was now wiping the snow off of his face, and shrugged, giving him an apologetic look as he lazily lobbed his snowball into Will’s chest, spinning on his heel and running after Eddie.

He spent a while chasing after the shorter boy, who’s seemed to not want anything to do with Richie at the moment, running away from him as if he was the enemy.

Eddie eventually came to a stop in the clearing where he knew their base was, and found it empty.

Or so it seemed.

It was too late by the time he heard Stan screaming “Watch out!”

In almost slow motion, Richie watched as Jane, Mike and Max popped out of their respective hiding spots across the stream, zoning in on the small boy and making their pitches. 1, 2, 3 times the snowballs exploded across Eddie’s body.

Dramatically, Richie was screaming out “No!” Scooping up snow, forming his own projectile, and launching himself into a blind rage as snowballs began flying all around.

He could recall seeing Ben fall to the same strategy that Eddie succumbed to when he scooted too far out from behind their tree defenses. He was almost sure none of his snowballs hit as he was too focused on avenging Eddie’s loss.

He could recount feeling the sting of another snowball as he and Party Mike threw matching hits at each other, the difference being that Mike was pelted shortly after from Stan and Bill.

His eyes could barely focus as his own Mike stepped out, and he could hear two hard hits beat on the bigger boys chest. Mike fell to his knees as the quiet girl Jane landed the killing blow to Mike. He looked over, and could see Max standing directly his opposite across the stream from him, clean of any snowball hits. They matched each others’ movements perfectly as they knelt down and rolled up their snowballs. Max nudged Jane behind a tree and she and Richie maintained eye contact, seeming to will the other to take the first shot.

Just when Max smirked and raise her arm to throw, she did something unexpected, refocusing her aim to someone else, and throwing her snowball with all her force at Stan. Stan stood, obviously not expecting that, as the snowball sailed towards him. It never made contact as Bill stepped in front of the jewish boy, taking a clean hit to the face, what looked like his first one.

Max’s smirk melted off her face when Stan let out a scream and hit her squarely in the face with a snowball of his own. The second snowball came when Richie threw the one forgotten in his hands, the third and final blow coming as revenge from Bill himself, and the redhead fell flat on the ground, out of the game.

Richie, Bill, and Stan all nodded at each other as they scooped up snow, and stalked across the frozen stream towards the last remaining party member left, the quiet girl, Jane.

Jane backed away until she hit a tree, and when the three loser boys primed themselves, wrenched their arms back and proceeded to throw their snowballs in sync, she raised her arm.

There, in the middle of the clearing, the three snowballs floated in mid air. Everyone watched in disbelief as Jane let out a yell, pushed forward with her arm, and the three snowballs flew back at their respective throwers, along with almost all of the snow from tree Jane was leaning against, blanketing the three boys in snow.

No one made any attempt to move at all, instead staring at the quiet girl.

Jane slowly made to wipe the thin trail of blood leaking out of her nose. She looked as if she had been caught with her hand in a cookie jar.

A snowball exploded straight in her face.

All heads whizzed toward the direction the snowball had flown from, and standing the edge of the clearing, was a head of fiery hair wrapped in a warm, homemade knit cap.

Beverly Marsh.

She smirked at the eyes staring at her, her own crystalline ones glinting.

“Hey there, Losers.”

tag list: tag list: @stnbrough @sun-kinghanlon @richie-tczier@billbenbev@anymomentanytime@sten-bros @aamw343 @hemmingsathena @toziertrash-mouth@fandomtrash2405@ohheydatsme​ @umlingo @3verything-is-my-aesthetic @basic-internet-trash@grayce-crochet @littlepolypan @alaskancats @80sdenbrough

[spooky-raccoon]

Monsters (Part 3)

<i>Winning an auction to the run down home on Neibolt Street leads the reader to moving to Derry.  With what you’re planning everything seemed perfect.  Though you didn’t mean to accidentally wake up the creature underneath your home sooner than he wanted.

All you wanted to do was hurry up with your plans.  This clown though seemed to keep showing up though, even in your dreams.  

Everything was going as planned.  And now maybe even better than ever.</i>

                                    Pennywise’s Perspective

              Someone had moved into the old run-down home. The presence of multiple people woke me much earlier than I wanted.  All I could feel was my hunger.  I was curious to who now lived in the home but once I had a full stomach I would investigate.

              Several bodies later and I watched from the shadows. This short girl was among these tall men.  She seemed to be the one calling the shots of what she wanted done and was the one who would be living in the house.  I’d walk through the home once everyone left to examine the work they had done.  The rooms were being fixed, patched up, and painted.  The foyer was a burgundy color.  The kitchen a light beige.  The bathrooms were both the same shade of dark purple.  Her room was a blood red color.  I admired the color and headed to the basement.  She hadn’t touched the well.  I had overheard she wasn’t planning on covering it up since you would need climbing gear to even go inside.  Besides it let in a cool breeze she had told them.  The storage room door was locked with two lock pads but I gave them no thought as I easily opened the door.

               The room had pale tile walls with pale tile flooring to match.  The shelves were filled with bottles, mostly cleaning supplies but some caught my eye. A bottle had the label “Arsenic” and others had names I hadn’t heard of before.  In the floor was sort of a miniature ditch that I noticed led to the well through some stone.  My eyes caught the back wall which had several knives hanging from it.

               “My, aren’t you an interesting gal.” I picked up a knife from the wall and twirled it in my hand. “What do you plan to do little one?” I set the knife back down and left the room, locking it back up.

               Several days went by and I kept watching in between feeding and scaring others.  Finally, when the men all left and night had settled I decided to introduce myself. Oh, her fear smelled lovely.  She was scared to be in a new home all by herself, especially a large home like this.  It was only her small self in this big empty home.  When I gave her the balloon, seeing her eyes widen with surprise, her heart pounding with fear, was almost too much.  I could have eaten her then and there but my curiosity for her special room won me over.  When she shut the door, I made my way over to the kissing bridge.  There had been some pesky teenagers there for some days now and their fear was too good to pass up.  

            I decided to come back afterwards to see inside her dream.  I could tell it’s one she’s had before. When she left the bed room with the man I walked over to investigate him.  He was tall, muscular, and even for me there was something unsettling about him. He was motionless, his hand still on the bed and a grin on his face.  A growl left my throat as I took one last look at him and left for the basement. I needed to give her a good proper scare after all and didn’t want to waste any more time on who this man was.

           I came back again to scare her in her dreams but something was different.  I didn’t want to utterly terrify her so I did some fun acts and even gave her a rose.  Something about her caught my interest so I followed her. Her date was becoming boring but she was only getting more interesting.  Not how I normally would but the way she smelled was almost as good as fear.  I replaced her date that she had for the evening and realized she had seemed to want blood just as much as I did.  I wish I could have teased her longer but my stomach was growling.  While hunting I kept thinking back to her.  I had never met a human who wanted to taste blood, who seemed to enjoy it and yearn for it as much as I did.  Perhaps when I decide to end the play thing routine I’d have her float in my personal resting area.

           The day after the nice little dream she finished up her room in the basement.  I watched as she put together a large metal table.  She played with adjustable part of it.  She grinned and giggled to herself.  It almost reminded me of myself.  Even though I wanted to devour her I felt a little bit of pride for her. She had something in mind and I’d let her see to it.  The town was already terrified that something was causing havoc again much sooner than they expected.  I guess I should have thanked her in some way.  In due time though perhaps, I will.

            Some weeks went by and I noticed how she left the house less and less. She’d leave to get groceries, maybe walk around a little bit and talk to some town folk but she preferred to keep to herself.  There were times where she was paranoid, usually after she was on the thing she called a desktop but only at certain times.  I noticed the picture of the man from her dream pop up now and then and it appeared when they were communicating.  Curiosity only got the better of me as I stayed more and more in the house to watch her.  I’d still eat but I wouldn’t linger and my scaring acts never went as long as they usually did.  After one night she was talking into a device and seemed a bit chipper despite knowing who she was talking to.  When her conversation was done my curiosity had reached its point.   She mentioned she was ready for tomorrow.  I’d have to make sure to be here so I went off to feed.

                                     (Back to Reader’s Perspective)

            “Alright (Y/N), you can do this.  Just tolerate him for some time and he’s all yours.” I zipped around the room as I got dressed.  I had decided on a burgundy skater dress.  As I sat at my vanity I could feel someone watching me.  I did my best to ignore the feeling but I had an idea of who it was.  After a while the uneasy feeling got too much and I smacked my hands onto the vanity.

           “Pennywise, what do you want from me!?” Anger filled my voice.  I had too much carefully planned.  I had too much to worry about.  This clown was getting on my last nerves.

           “I’m only watching, as I’ve done ever since you’ve started to fix this place up.” Out of the corner of my eye I saw him emerge from the shadow in my closet. “My resting area is just below here.  This house and I have a long history together. I was supposed to rest for another seventeen years until you started to make a ruckus.”

           “I’m so sorry for disturbing your beauty rest.” I picked up one of my favorite red liquid to matte lipsticks and began to apply it to my lips.

           “You’ve been a curiosity of mine ever since I explored that little room in the basement you have.” He stepped closer until he was behind me.  I tilted the mirror upwards so I could look at him. “That man from your dream, the one where I sent you down the well.  Who is he? What is he to you?” I could hear an angry tone in his voice, almost as each word became a growl.  Goodness gracious he thought this man was special to me.

           “Pennywise, to be honest, it’s none of your business.” I turned in my seat to face him.  He tilted his head to the side when he got a better look of the makeup I had done on my face. “If you do have to know though so you can drop that tone,” I stood up to somewhat feel like I had more control of the conversation, even though I was beginning to shake a little.  I placed my hand on my vanity to try to stable myself. “The man raped me years ago when we were teenagers.  I’ve talked to his past girlfriends to find out he’s only done the same to them. So,” I looked into his eyes, “I’m going to kill him myself since no one else is going to.”

           All I could hear was his laughs bouncing off the walls.  I don’t know why this angered me so much.  In a flash all I could see was my arm flinging my porcelain jewelry box into the wall, shattering into pieces and the jewelry scattering around.  His laughing stopped as he looked me over.

           “Little one, I assure you I wasn’t laughing at the idea.” His hand reached out to my chin and he lifted my face up to me. “Quite the contrary actually.  I’m rooting for you.  I promise to stay out of your way but I’ll stick by in case you need assistance. Besides,” His hand left my chin and brushed over the part of my neck he bit in my dream.  I could feel the wound again.  I turned in the vanity to see teeth marks right where he had bit me. His hand brushed back over, “You’re mine until I devour you and nothing will hurt what is mine.” The marks were gone but I could still feel their sting.

           “I am not-” My words cut off as he placed a hand over my neck, squeezing tightly.  A whimper left me and he grinned.

           “Now, now (Y/N).  You have much to do.  Have some comfort in knowing that you have a monster on your side.”  He let out a chuckle and gave me a soft kiss on the cheek. In an instant he was gone, back into the shadows.

           After cleaning up the broken jewelry box and finding a new home for the jewelry I went to prepare for my guest.

I hope you guys enjoyed it!

@cyberkoalakitty @fandomscooter @quixoticcat @alexiapway @ladafundesh @fuck-the-clown @hoe-for-daddywise @leauvel @fox-fins @negan1993 @inbetweenness

[shadowsfiguresfigments-blog]

A good place to die Chapter 1

Warning: Harsh language, violence

The bell rang and I stuffed my books into my bag as quickly as possible. Yaneesha was in a particularly bad mood today, and I had been late for work yesterday. Fortunately she was still busy applying her bubblegum-colored lipstick, and I slipped out of the classroom quietly and unhindered. I quickly checked my rusty bike for any damage, but besides the obligatory sign reading “hoe ride”, written in a familiar shade of pink stuck to my saddle, nothing had been done, so I got on it and drove down the bumpy street to the Derries little bookstore. The consistent rain of the last weeks had tormented the already shitty road even further, and I had to concentrate to avoid the new potholes. At this point navigating X Street felt like a walk on a tightrope. But today the sun had shown itself for the first time in what felt like an eternity, and people were busy clearing the streets of all the residues left behind by the water. On every corner at least one person was pulling branches out of storm drain openings and piling up leaves to huge heaps which would be taken away later.

Mr. Shanks, the half-blind owner of the book store, was busy with a huge broom in front of the display case. He methodically shuffled the leaves around the same spot without achieving anything.

“Hey, Mr. Shanks!”, I called out, as I opened the door on the right side of the entrance to take my bike into the storage room. “I’ll be with you in a sec, let me help you with the leaves.” He grunted in my direction, so he was feeling better today. Otherwise he would have screamed and raged at me.

Mr. Shanks was pretty old, could barely see anything and was displaying the first signs of Alzheimer, but his book store was always very well sorted and stocked, and he had been the only one in all of Derry who would let me work for him. If it meant putting up with his temper tantrums and his confusion, it was fine by me. I’ve had worse than shouting and insults.

I locked my bike with its chain and quickly shuffled back to Mr. Shanks, who thrust the broom into my hands while mumbling something about a new delivery and ungrateful clients. While I was busy sweeping the pavement I contemplated the fact that Mr. Shanks’ Alzheimer was probably the reason why hired me in the first place.

People didn’t like me nor cared for me, and it had been like that for as far as I could remember. They regarded me as a freak, and, to be honest, I was one. I didn’t enjoy other people’s company, I didn’t care for popular music or movies or boys or girls and I never really laughed about anything. For aunties sake I pretended to take my meds on a regular basis, but they didn’t do anything for me besides making me sleepy. Over the years I had learned to say what my therapist wanted to hear, how to act normal enough to not make my auntie overly worried and how to stay out of people’s way. But everybody knew what happened to my parents, and that I spent most of my childhood in mental institutions and at the mercy of the care. Only two years ago my auntie had finally gained custody rights, after I was for the first time able to convince my therapist that I was doing better.

But I wasn’t.

Nothing gave me pleasure, and life was but a burden to me. Still, I had not had any success with ending it, so I finally decided to bear with it. I got good grades at school (though not excellent ones), and I had secured a job that payed for the only thing I felt a little excited about: Going to the movies. Horror movies, to be specific. Derries theatre showed them in the early evening, and I was usually the only visitor. For more than an hour I was left alone, and it had gained me the reputation of being somewhat tough. And somewhere in my numb soul I felt a tiny surge of affection for the monsters, the freaks, the specters and ghosts.

When I was finished with the pavement, I went back inside and started sorting out the new delivery Mr. Shanks had been mumbling about. There were quite a lot of huge books in there, and of course they had to be placed on the top shelves. I was relatively small, not only of height, but of built too, which had earned me the nickname ‘skeleton’, and therefore had to use the wobbling ladder that would kill me one day for sure. I couldn’t wait for it.

But, as always, nothing happened, and when I was done there was enough time left to finish my assignments (Mr. Shanks didn’t mind that, at least) before my shift ended, so I could go and watch “Night of the demons” before having dinner. I particularly liked the look of the demon in the mirror, and I felt myself relax a little in the darkness of the theatre. The world seemed to shrink around me into a bubble of safety. For a brief moment I could pretend to be the only one on the planet while Judy was desperately trying to run from her possessed friends. When the movie ended I literally walked into the owner outside. He looked at me with dismay before telling me that the horror movies would be cancelled at the end of this year – they did not draw in enough people to be profitable.

Dinner was the same as always; auntie trying to make conversation and inquiring about my day. I tried to feel bad – she had put in an extra effort to make a complicated risotto, but, truth be told, it tasted like sand to me, and I felt nothing but numbness. I told her about the movies, and she affectionately touched my arm.

“I’m so sorry for you, sweetie. I know how much you loved them. But don’t you think something more… light-hearted might be better for you? Like a comedy?”

I shrugged, and cleared my plate.

Later that night I lay in bed, fast awake. I couldn’t sleep, and that was something new for me. After an hour of just lying there, listening to the wind that had started howling outside, I got up and tip-toed to my closet. In the dark I rummaged through my old pants, the ones that were either to tiny or so worn that auntie didn’t allow me to wear them to school. I felt the fabrics, twisting my hands further down, until I finally touched something brittle and course. Very carefully I unearthed the teddy bear that I had hidden beneath the clothes for ages. It was old and worn and, by normal people’s standards, revolting, because it smelled of sewers and mold, but to me it was somewhat comforting. I’ve had it as long as I could remember, hiding it outside my parents house under a bush. When I had come back two years ago I had crept out during my first night at aunties, and returned to my parent’s house. Miraculously the bush had still been there, and beneath it lay teddy, almost undiscernable between rotting leaves and mud. I took him back with me, stitched the most torn places and brushed of the dirt. And he found a new home between my unused pants.

I slipped back into my bed, teddy tightly hugged against my chest, and let my thoughts wander. Strangely, I never thought about how I’d gotten him. Surely not from my parents, oh no. All they gave me was pain.

I took a deep breath and smelled teddy, though the scent had almost faded from it with time. Still I kept breathing in, and I thought that the smell grew stronger with each breath I took. Something was changing within me. I discovered a relentless, burning energy that kept me awake and throbbed within my veins that drove me out into the night.

I dressed as quietly as possible, grabbed my coat and slid teddy beneath it. My heart drumming in my ears I wandered through the streets, not paying attention to where I was going, until I found myself climbing down form kissing bridge into the barrens. The smell of sewer was getting stronger by the minute, and it felt more and more familiar, while the wind tugged on my clothes, as if it was trying to urge me back home.

I kept going.

Though I was pretty sure I hadn’t been here before my feet kept carrying on, until I stood before the dark gaping entrance of one of the tunnels of Derries sewer. I fumbled for my keys and flicked on the little key ring light that auntie had given me as a present when I moved in with her. Not entirely sure what I was doing or thinking, I entered the sewer system.

[orafortuneforyourdisaster]

A Pennywise Origin Story - Part 1

So, I read this post the other night and while at first it had only been an interesting thought, it has now become something that has me in its grip so hard, I can barely keep away from notebooks or keyboards, ever since I started pondering how a good natured clown would be willing to lend his body to a creature like It. Anyhow, because it is fun writinng for yourself, but even greater getting feedback, I just thought about putting it on here for people to see. If you enjoy it, that’s amazing, if not, well...then there’s a lot of other blogs to visit. So, well, here we go; the first part.

A Fateful Encounter - July 1772

Carefully the gloved hands took the little spider from the wooden make-up table and cradled it within their palms. It could feel a warmth emitting from the hands through the thin white garment, as well as It could feel the careful caution It was being handled with. Humans didn’t like spiders and most men, even if they would never admit it, were scared of them, however tiny they might be. Not so the clown. He had seen the spider on the light wood in front of the veiled vanity part of the vanity table and had let out a deep sigh. Not a scream, just a sigh. It reached out for the feelings of the clown; there was no disgust or fear, only pity and the will to help the little spider caught in his trailer. It felt some swaying and then there was green grass all around it, the red nose of the clown right in front of It. “Go on, little friend, enjoy your freedom. You wouldn’t want to be trapped in a circus.”

In a final attempt of scaring the clown, It rose on It’s four hindlegs, but the clown only smiled and waved at it. “Go on. Do spider things.” And with that and a little jingle of his bells, he turned around and went back into his trailer, leaving It to ponder human fear. Had It been over in the next trailer with the ballerinas, It might have given them a pretty big scare, maybe It might have even been able to scare one of them to death. But It wasn’t powerful enough quite yet. Still weak from Its hibernation and hunger, It wasn’t able to pull out all the bells and whistles right now. An easy kill, a light breakfast so to speak, would have to suffice. Its eight speedy legs carried it faster than one would have thought to the next trailer, where it could sense anger and viscious envy. Girls rivalling one another. It could feel an appetite grow. Anger stemmed from fear and fear meant an easy target.

The next day the oldest girl was missing. And It started to feel more alive and there was still a whole circus in town.

 *

 It could not fathom what It felt. The lonely figure in the street had seemed easy prey, scared out of its mind already, but when It reached out to feel for the figure’s fears to dress itself in their image, It came up the figure’s twin. That was new. It looked at It’s gloved hands and ruffled costume. It reached up to feel the immense forehead. Almost bit itself with the long front teeth. Another look at the weird silhouette on the road confirmed what It had perceived to be true; It had taken the form of the sad clown awkwardly limping along the road leading up to the Well House.  Night had fallen over Derry, Maine, where the circus had been staying for the past couple of weeks, and the clown felt uncomfortable walking along the old dirt road, away from the people who followed him. As It took a closer look, It could see the blood dripping from a small wound on the clowns head, see his clothes torn in places where people had tried to grab him and hold him. There were a few trees to his left, some of their branches clawing at his costume, making him jump, whenever he felt them tear at his costume, thinking it was somebody who had caught up to him. The area around here, for some reason, was deserted. There was an uneasy feeling about it, he himself felt like he was being watched. But maybe that was just his paranoia after being chased around by half the township. He could have drawn closer to the center of the street to avoid the branches, but that would have made him an easy target and easier to spot. Not that he wasn’t easy enough to spot with his flaming orange hair and his white face. And his large head. That large, unshapely head.

Though not exactly knowing why someone would be scared of themselves, It prepared for the hunt, excitement rising in It’s bones. It had wanted to stay undetected for a while longer, but the jingling bells on the costume made the clown turn around, a twist It hadn’t foreseen. A twist the clown had not foreseen. Damn bells, would take some getting used to. But for now, the game.

It saw the eyes of the clown widen with…not quite fear. There was disgust, anger, designation, surprise. But there was no fear. It was confused, when the picture it had gotten from the clown’s subconscious had been so clear.

It could hear the clown’s heartbeat speed up. They were staring at each other for a moment, both as unsure as the other as to what this meant.

“Not much dancing going on tonight, Mr.Pennywise.” It finally said. It didn’t know why It had said that, but it seemed appropriate. It had heard it somewhere, from someone. Or rather It had heard the sentence in the mind of the clown having been said to him by someone.

“You are the one who killed the children. You are the one who stole the women. You are what they are after.”

“Children, adults, men, women, it doesn’t make much of a difference. But children are the easiest. The tastiest.” It added as an afterthought, shivering with excitement, making the bells on the stolen costume jingle some more.

“You used my face.” A pause followed.

“Not until now. Not until today. We use a lot of faces, a lot of names.”

“Why today?” The clown’s enormous forehead creased almost comically in bewilderment.

“Why are you scared of yourself, Mr. Pennywise?”

The clown’s face lit up in dark understanding. “I am not. I am afraid of my face. The way people react to it. I am afraid of the farmers with their pitchforks and the women with their shrieking laughter. I am afraid of the children’s fear when they look at me. I am afraid of being thought a monster.”

“But what if you are a monster? What if you are made to be a monster?” It sneered, having found the weak spot in the other’s armour.

“The way I see it,” the clown said and looked into the distance, “mankind is the monster. They do each other so much harm. The most beautiful men have the cruellest of hearts and kindness wears an ugly face most of the time.”

There was another emotion, speeding up the heartbeat of Pennywise. It was anger. It felt fascinated by the poisoned heart of the innocent clown. What a beautiful contradiction. All Pennywise had ever wanted was to do right by the world and all the world had ever done was make him an outcast, laugh at him, spit in his face, just to laugh at him some more. His heart was burning with a fire brighter than It had ever felt. That was why It had felt drawn toward the clown. There was a deep satisfaction found in violence. It could feed almost as easily off violence as it could off fear. Fear made people taste better, but violence made them juicy.

“We seem to be seeing eye to eye on that subject, Mr. Pennywise. Which makes it a pity that we will have to kill you.” It circled around the clown and watched it hungrily. But the clown only shrugged.

“End my miserable existence if you must, but if you are the monster they are all talking about, would you mind doing me a favour?”

“We are not in the business of doing people favours. But you seem an interesting case, so speak on, dear clown.”

Darkness rose in the innocent blue eyes of the clown and its voice went deep and growling. “Make them suffer, take their children and their wives, let them watch and scream and wish they had never been born.” It bathed in the violence of the thought, fed on the hatred coming off the clown and felt deeply drawn toward Pennywise’s shaking figure. Bells tingling on the both of them, they stood facing each other, It’s eyes a glowing amber, Pennywise’s a dark blue.

It needed a while to form an answer. Speaking with their kind took some effort. “We will make them suffer for all eternity. The way we always did and always will do. We must feed. We must survive. What we don’t understand is why you would want them to suffer so badly.”

Pennywise closed his eyes. “They say ‘an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind’, but I say they have not deserved to ever see the sun again.”

It’s head perked up in a jerky motion. They had seen him. They had found Pennywise. The clown looked at him darkly.

“Either you kill me or they will. But I beg of you to make good on your word. Give me the revenge I never got.”

It slowly faded into the background when it realised that the good people of Derry had been surrounding the clown, drawing closer and closer this whole chase. He hadn’t stood a chance against their knowledge of the layout of the town and his being caught was one of the inevitabilities of life. When they reached him, the mob started to attack him and it would have been easy for It to enjoy the show and feed of their hate and violence. However, something in It had been stirred by the clown. He wanted to know more about him. He had been so dark, yet so innocent, It could not let him die through the hands of a lynch mob. So it made them calm down. Let the rational people think their rational thoughts. A trial should be held. Tomorrow evening. Because everyone deserved a trial, even a killer clown. And if he didn’t deserve it, it would look better to the neighbouring towns. Because Derry, Derry was a nice place to live.

 *

1748-1753 

Born with what would today be known as Hydrocephalus and its side effects, the little boy had never had a chance at a normal life. When he was born, his father turned away and his mother cried in agony for three days. They thought about drowning their first-born son, but could not quite find the courage for that. Or the mercy. The child screamed in pain some days, having trouble to focus things with his eyes. His head, already big when he was born, grew even more in the first few weeks after his birth. The doctors said they could not help him, so his parents, who were still good people did their best by him. They did not give him a name, because the doctor said, he probably wouldn’t live to be a year. But his first birthday saw him a happy little boy, despite the circumstances. His mother loved him as well as she could, but his father never accepted him as his first-born, his heir. Everytime he had a cold or fell ill, they thought this was the day their son was going to die. But he lived to be two, three, four. He was still their only son. Their neighbours started talking that with his large forehead and bucked teeth, with his flaming orange hair, he was probably the Devil’s child. Talk about it went around town and his parents started to feel uneasy in his vicinity. His mother had had several miscarriages by then and even though nobody explicitly blamed it on the boy, they were thinking it. He was different and he knew from a small age that he was. A few weeks before he turned five, he got a little baby sister, but she died in her sleep only a few nights after she was born. Once again, no one dared say a word to the parents, but they all blamed it on the little demon boy. The boy who saved cats out of trees and butterflies from dying in cobwebs. The quiet winter child with the curious blue eyes and the kindest of souls. When his mother got pregnant again, he was joyfully telling his parents how he would love a baby brother to play with and it hurt his mother to think about the big tears he had cried over his dead sister. In the end, her heart couldn’t take another tragedy and so while giving birth to her second son, she died. It felt like she had died preventively to spare herself from another child death in the week bed, but what she did, was rob herself of a happy life with her two sons, one of them normal, the other a little odd, but kind and loving. His father, however, finally having the healthy son he had always wanted, blamed the death of his wife on their sickly son. In his mind, if it hadn’t been for his deformity, his wife would not have had to go through so many miscarriages and that last, deadly, childbirth. He could not bear to see the orange-haired boy day in, day out reminding him of the death of his wife. So, he decided to get rid of his crippled kid, and as it sometimes happens, things fell into place for the small boy with the domed forehead and the tinkling laughter that – more than anything else – reminded his father so much of his late wife.

A circus just happened to be on its way through town and the director took one look at the boy and was willing to pay up. Without knowing it, the small boy changed hands like a well-fed cow. His father got money and rid of him, and the small boy got his first real family. Within this circus, he was by far not the weirdest person, but felt oddly normal. Even though he missed his mother, he felt like he was home. And it was more of a home than his brother had, as he should discover in later years. When he was older and they came through his hometown on their circuit, he looked for his brother and father, only to be told that his father had almost killed his little brother one day in a drunken state and then managed to fall to his own death in a freak accident. His brother had been given to a distant relative no one really knew the name of and no one had seen him ever since. So, his circus family wasn’t too shabby after all.

 *

 After being rescued from a death at the hand of an overly eager lynch mob by none other than the most evil entity in our known world, Pennywise sat in a dark and dank, slightly moist and creepy prison cell, awaiting the arrival of the sheriff from Bangor. It was early morning and dawn started to slowly creep onto a fog-veiled horizon. His prison cell had only a small window, casting it into the darkness of an eternal night on days like these. He didn’t care anymore. Not after all that had happened to him. Quite frankly, he could not wait to leave this cruel and corrupted world, where hope was only an illusion to keep you going and as you went work hard for something you could never achieve, and where, if you actually did find yourself happy, just had to wait for the knife in your side to be turned again, taking away everything that was dear to you. That was, when he saw two amber eyes in one of the corners of his prison cell, glowing like embers in the dark. He could feel the mere presence of the being that had met him in his own form only a few hours ago, as it radiated an unsettling feeling of underlying tension and anger. Pennywise, the once kind and too-soft-for-this-world boy, embraced that violent feeling right now, it felt like the sun warming his skin. The eyes grew closer, the dark and hidden figure behind them not yet perceivable to his eyes, but changing into a form, his mind was able to comprehend. Once again, he found himself facing himself, with the slight exception that this version of him had amber eyes instead of blue ones. He hardly acknowledged the arrival of his saviour, so to speak, just looked at him tiredly.

“And what are you doing here?” he asked in a low voice, the tinkling laughter and playful notes all gone.

“We came to make you a proposition in case you were still who we think you could be.”

Pennywise gave a humourless laugh. “Could you be anymore cryptic? What is it you want from a run-down existence like mine?”

The eyes of the creature swam in different directions, which should have made him uneasy, but he found himself not caring anymore. He was done with this world and if the world sent him an actual devil to take him away, then maybe that was just how it was supposed to end.

It was looking for the right words to get what It wanted, but it was hard for the creature as It had never been inside the mind of a human being longer than the few moments the chase normally took. It had no real idea of how the mind of a human being worked when it wasn’t scared to death, It had no sense of personality yet, because It never had one, had never needed one. But mankind was developing at an amazingly fast pace and if It wanted to keep up with his prey, It would need to get a better sense of what they were and how their minds were working. Their fears became more complicated, varied and complex than “the dark”, “spiders” or maybe weird animal creations that had never been and would never be. And as It’s prey evolved, it was time for It to evolve with it or starve. But how to put all this into words, when It had never needed to use words to express anything else than phrases or on the rare occasion had to string together a meaningful sentence? That was another reason It was here. But once again, the right words escaped It, failed It, just hadn’t been heard by It before. It’s mind was like a phrasebook, able to use things it had picked up before, even able to rearrange them and combine them to give them the kind of meaning It was looking for, but there was no deeper understanding as to how their kind’s language worked, which made any original utterings impossible. So, It fell back on what It had heard before.

“Who are you and why are you here?” It asked of the clown. And somehow the clown understood. It didn’t need to know that he was known around most of New England as Pennywise the Dancing Clown, It already knew, as It knew that he was here because he had been caught by a mob of angry villagers. It needed to know why the villagers had been furiously following him and who he was to make them that angry. The creature drew closer, moving in awkward, jerking motions, revealing It’s inhuman nature by It’s lack of coordination and real speech. Again Pennywise noticed how scared he should have been, but how much this felt like something falling into place. Like he was here because of this. He took a deep breath and looked into the face of the stranger that looked so much like his own.

“I grew up to be a clown after my first circus took me in. Well, I guess they paid for me, but I was never told the specifics of why or for how much they took me in, I was too young back then to really understand…”

[ofjanuaryembcrs]

BASIC INFORMATION

FULL NAME: Beverly Martha Marsh

NICKNAME(S): Bev, Bevvy (do not fucking call her that, it reminds her of her dad and that is not something she wants to think about), Beaverly, Slut

AGE: 18

DATE OF BIRTH: February 13th, 1976

HOMETOWN: Derry, Maine

CURRENT LOCATION: Derry, Maine

ETHNICITY: English, Irish, Scottish

NATIONALITY: American

GENDER: Cis female

PRONOUNS: She/her

ORIENTATION: Biromantic bisexual, though she’s never really discussed it with anyone. She kissed a few girls at parties back in Portland, but she’s never gone further than that. She does like girls though.

RELIGION: Agnostic. No one in her family has ever been really religious - her father and aunt were raised Catholic, though, while her mother was raised Methodist. 

POLITICAL AFFILIATION: While she definitely has left-leaning beliefs, she doesn’t follow politics enough to have a specific opinion on every issue. She identifies as a liberal democrat though.

OCCUPATION: Student, a clerk at the fabric store in the strip mall

LIVING ARRANGEMENTS: Bev currently lives with her aunt in a tiny, two bedroom apartment near the one she used to live in with her dad. It’s older, but Bev’s never been one to complain as long as she’s got a roof over her head. 

LANGUAGE(S) SPOKEN: English

ACCENT: Maine

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

FACE CLAIM: Sophia Lillis (younger), Abigail Cowen (older)

HAIR COLOUR: Red

EYE COLOUR: Blue

HEIGHT: 5′7″

WEIGHT: 120 lbs

BUILD: Slim

TATTOOS: She has a collection of seven small birds on her rib cage. Bev got it on her eighteenth birthday - before she and her aunt moved back to Derry. At the time, she wasn’t sure why seven felt like the right number, but now she knows that there’s one for each of the losers.

PIERCINGS: Bev’s had her ears pierced for as long as she can remember. When she was sixteen, she got her cartilage pierced. A few weeks ago, she also pierced her nose because it’s the 90s and everyone’s got a nose piercing.

CLOTHING STYLE: Okay so fashion is actually Beverly’s favorite thing in the world. Growing up, her father always restricted what she could or couldn’t wear and now that he’s dead, she wears whatever the fuck she wants. Bev’s style is eclectic; some days she’s in a black, ripped crop top with a bright red plaid skirt and combat boots, and then the next day she’s in a soft summer dress with sandals and a flower crown. Beverly makes most of her own clothes, or she tailors and alters things she finds at the thrift store. She does wear makeup, mostly because it’s fun to put on.

USUAL EXPRESSION: Her lips are almost always turned up in a soft smirk like there’s some sort of joke or secret that only the two of you are in on. Her dark eyes are warm and loving unless you give her a reason why they shouldn’t be. 

DISTINGUISHING CHARACTERISTICS:  Freckles scattered across her face, shoulders and arms, as well as a scar on the palm of her hand.

HEALTH

PHYSICAL AILMENTS: None

NEUROLOGICAL CONDITIONS: Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (undiagnosed) 

ALLERGIES: None

SLEEPING HABITS: Beverly is usually more of a night owl than an early bird. She sometimes struggles with falling asleep, which means she usually stays up listening to music or flipping through magazines until she gets tired. If she’s really restless, she’ll sneak out and visit a friend or go to the quarry to look at the stars.

EATING HABITS: Honestly, Bev’s eating habits aren’t great. Her aunt works ridiculous hours and Bev is horrible when it comes to cooking, so she lives on a diet of takeout and meals that are quick and cheap to make. She does try and eat a balanced meal most of the time, though, and she doesn’t go crazy with sweets. Junk food isn’t something she gorges herself on, really. 

EXERCISE HABITS: She doesn’t work out regularly really, but Bev walks or bikes most places. She does run sometimes if she’s feeling stressed or upset, but her stamina isn’t great due to the fact that she’s smoked cigarettes since she was twelve. 

EMOTIONAL STABILITY: Pretty high. Beverly still has nightmares about different elements of her childhood, but usually, she can calm herself down afterward. She’s not too distressed most of the time, at least on the outside. Bev’s good at letting things go, or at least ignoring them until they’re a serious problem.

SOCIABILITY: High. Bev’s a very social person. She doesn’t like be alone, really, and tends to surround herself with people she loves and cares about. Making new friends isn’t her strongest suit, but she’s okay at it. Bev’s kind to strangers, and can usually make small talk with people.

BODY TEMPERATURE: Bev’s usually cold, even when it’s pretty warm outside. She tends to wear layers just for this reason.

ADDICTIONS: Cigarettes. She picked up the nasty habit when she was twelve and hasn’t been able to quit for longer than a month since. It’s not something she’s proud of, but she also can’t seem to let it go. 

DRUG USE: Recreational marijuana use, though she only smokes it with friends. It’s not her favorite stress-reliever, but it’ll get the job done. 

ALCOHOL USE: Beverly is a social drinker; if her friends are drinking, so is she. She’s a giggly drunk who can sometimes be a little flirty, and she rarely throws up. Her hangovers can be pretty brutal, though. 

PERSONALITY

LABEL: The Empath

POSITIVE TRAITS: Compassionate, Forgiving, Creative, Loyal, Tenacious, Brave

NEGATIVE TRAITS: Impulsive, Stubborn, Sarcastic, Distant, Rebellious

GOALS/DESIRES: More than anything, Beverly wants to work in fashion. She loves designing and creating her own clothes, and would love to do that on a larger scale once she graduates. It’s unlikely that she’ll get a scholarship to any school, but she’s still applying to places with fashion design programs. If she manages to get in one, she’ll take out loans to go. 

FEARS: Her father, though she does have some peace of mind now that he’s dead. Anyone that majorly reminds her of him scares her a bit too. Beverly’s aware of the way men stare at her, and that troubles her a lot too. Sometimes she can use their leering to her advantage, but most of the time, it just creeps her out. 

HOBBIES: Bev likes making her own clothing. She spends a good deal of her time at her sewing machine, making new things from scratch or altering things she’s found at a thrift store. She also makes things for her friends, for holidays or their birthdays. Most of the time, she doesn’t have money for a gift, so she makes them something instead. Sketching out designs for her own clothes takes up a portion of her time too. If she’s bored in class, Bev will begin drawing out a new dress or skirt or something that she wants to make one day. When she isn’t working on clothes, Bev can be found reading. She developed a love for poetry when she moved to Portland, though she didn’t understand why until she moved back. She also likes murder mysteries and true crime books. Weirdly enough, gruesome stories fascinate her. Maybe it’s a coping mechanism. 

HABITS: Beverly plays with her hair a lot. She’s kept it short ever since she was thirteen, though now it falls to her shoulders. If she’s stressed or nervous, she’ll play with it even more than normal. Smoking also helps calm her nerves. If she’s trying to quit, she’ll chew a lot of gum.

FAVOURITES

WEATHER: Overcast weather is Beverly’s favorite. Sunshine is nice sometimes, but she thrives in cloudy, slightly chilly weather. That’s why Fall is her favorite season. She loves being outdoors when the air is crisp and you can taste the rain.

COLOUR: Bev loves pink. There is absolutely nothing wrong with being feminine, and Beverly will make sure you know that. She loves red a lot too, though.

MUSIC: Bev loves both pop music and alternative stuff. She loves Whitney Houston (though no one can love her as much as Eddie), and she used to be really into Madonna. Now, she listens to Green Day and some girl bands. She likes some rap too.

MOVIES: Honestly, Bev can watch pretty much any movie; she loves romantic comedies, though. Because she’s friends with the losers and the party, she’s developed a taste for sci-fi and adventure movies. Bev also likes horror movies, but only if they’re slasher movies. When the antagonist is human, she’s fine.

SPORT: Sports aren’t Beverly’s thing. Her lungs are terrible after smoking for so long, so she can’t really play much. But, she’s in the stands at every game Mike or Ben are playing in. She wouldn’t miss that for the world. 

BEVERAGE: Coke or coffee

FOOD: Pizza with green peppers, mushrooms and sausage 

ANIMAL: Bev’s always liked otters a lot. They’re adorable, and they hold hands to stay together. What’s not to like?

FAMILY

FATHER: Alvin Marsh, an actual piece of shit (Deceased)

MOTHER: Elfrieda Marsh, not a great mom when she was alive (Deceased)

SIBLING(S): None

PET(S): A kitten from Richie the Cat’s litter, given to her by Mike Hanlon

FAMILY’S FINANCIAL STATUS: Bev has lived with her aunt since she was thirteen. They manage to make ends meet, but they certainly are far from being wealthy. Bev doesn’t like to talk about it, but she’s definitely poorer than most of her friends. She can’t always afford to go bowling or go to the movies every week, but she never wants her friends to feel sorry for her. 

EXTRA

ZODIAC SIGN: Aquarius

MBTI: ENFP

ENNEAGRAM: Type 1w2. Bev wants to make a difference, but she also wants to help others. 

TEMPERAMENT: Sanguine

HOGWARTS HOUSE: Gryffindor

MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Good

PRIMARY VICE: Wrath

PRIMARY VIRTUE: Charity

ELEMENT: Air