#richie: have been for the past ten years thank you for noticing

[carmenized-onions]

Just Dropped. | Missing Invoice

logline; It's still fucking Friday. Half past five, maybe?

[!!!] series history, this is the eleventh; We're jumping RIGHT back in babe, feel free to re-review chapter ten to remember everything lmao.

Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettin’ added to.

portion; 8.2k Thank fucking god this got split off from the last.

possible allergies; hurt,,,,, some comfort? You'll see, idk. No spoils. Terrible self-image, a lot of talk of Mikey's death and blame about it. Just a lot of mean and hurtful words to oneself and others.

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader (i don't believe there's any pronouns but feminine titles are used? you'll see) Also, if I'm being honest, this chapter is not about Carmen, lmao. but when are they, really?

you ever notice that the other shoe chapter doesn't have a period? lol pranked you!! genuinely both very interested and very nervous to hear y'alls thoughts on this one,,, i hope you like it,,,, if you don't,,,, let me down so gently, sweetpea

Same team. You say to Marcus.

It’s an idiom you coined, long ago. It’s a simple phrase you and your friends started to exchange whenever heads got hot, and you had to remind each other that at the end of the day, you’re fighting for the same thing. To get through the end of the day, together. You’re on the same team.

It’s not interchangeable with ‘we good?’ It means so much more than that. Fights happen, they do. You know that better than anyone, but it’s important to remind each other what you’re fighting for. Same team, you say to Marcus, after reciting all the pastas on order.

He says it back, calming down. Talking to Richie was just as important as running expo; same team. He gets it. You exchange reassuring nods.

Two doors swing open. First, Sweeps comes in through front of house, pressing a note to your back, you hold it there. You don’t think it’s a good sign when he mumbles, slipping past your shoulder. “Need a smoke break, one sec.”

Second, Carmen swings out of his office. Phone call over, he seems deeply bothered. Is Natalie okay? Is he okay? You imagine he wouldn’t just return to his station, right in front of expo, if everything wasn’t okay. He does seem… On the verge of something, though. Despite your concerns, you continue to bark out orders. You try to run it a little more… prim, this time, with Carmen back. A couple fewer ‘love yous’ peppered in between table numbers. You don’t want to make him snap by running the place not like his Exec would.

Richie rolls back his shoulders, stretching out his neck. He tries to find sympathy and kinmanship, in Carmen, “Cousin, your ol’ boss is such an asshole, you wouldn’t believe what he—”

“Respect him, Chef.”

Huh? That gives both you and Richie pause. You stutter on the order. “Twen—Twenty-six, table twenty-six, waiting on fish, Chefs.”

“Fish.” Carmen hands the plate off to expo, immediately. Cold. He hasn’t even commented on you running expo yet. Is he mad? You’re probably doing a shit job at this. You hand the serving tray off to Fak to run. He speeds out, like a reverse lassie, sensing danger and wanting to get the fuck out immediately.

“…Respect him?” Richie repeats, dumbfounded.

“He’s a Two-Star Executive Chef.” Carmen doesn’t take his eyes off his cutting board. You’re not sure what he’s making, right now— Oh shit, you should tell him about the cherry and lamb before he wastes his time.

“Don’t matter what his title is—” “Yes. It does.”

Richie’s brows raise then furrow, as do yours, just not nearly as dramatic. Neither of you were expecting a fight over this, you’ve both been serving this man first hand. Carmen worked for this guy for like two or three years, he knows. He has nightmares about this guy. You were expecting comradery. The guy is a dick, why won’t Carmen admit that? Why’s he suddenly got stock in his captor?

“Who shit in your cereal? He’s bein’ a fuckin’ creep, Cousin.” That touches your heart, a little bit. Richie’s not directly saying it’s affecting you, but it’s nice to know that he just as equally cares about your discomfort.

Carmen’s a different story, though. Because he doesn’t question why Richie would say this. Doesn’t bother to consider the idea that he’s not fully informed, on the situation. On any situation, for that matter. He just thinks he’s being attacked, for some reason.

“N’ what the fuck are you?”

That snaps you off of your focus— Quite frankly, it snaps half of the kitchen out of their focus. Everyone’s knives pause above their cutting boards, spoons half dipped into pots, it hangs in the air, for a second.

“Pardon me?” Richie puts a hand over his chest, taking a half step back, to physically display how much offense he’s taken. Fucking hell, it’s gonna be this now. “What the fuck am I?”

“D’you want me to tell you? Cause I’ll fuckin’ tell you.”

You’ve gotta get between this, before Carmen can tell him. You slip Sweeps’ note in your pocket, long forgetting it, at this point. When you step forward, Richie puts an arm in front of you, barring you from getting in the middle of this. “Rich—”

“Please.” Richie goads, ignoring you. “En-fucking-lighten me.” You immediately brace yourself for whatever impact you and the rest of this kitchen are going to be collateral for.

“You’re a fuckin’ deadbeat, Rich.” Carmen puts his knife down, turning from his station to face Rice. Where the fuck is all this coming from? What kind of phone call was this? When you open your mouth to interrupt, Richie puts his other hand up in front of your face, shushing you. He wants to hear what Carmen has to say. You desperately do not want to hear what Carmen has to say.

“You wouldn’t have shit without me.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t have shit?”

“You wouldn’t be able to pay for your fuckin’ life—” “Oh here we go—” “Or your fuckin’ kid—” “Oh, oh you wanna talk to me about my fuckin’ kid?” “You wouldn’t have shit—” “At least I have a fuckin’ kid.” “Fuck you!”

“Fuck you, you don’t have shit, Carmen, you don’t let good shit ever fuckin’ happen to you. So fuckin’ tough, never let anyone talk to you.”

It is impossible to get a word in, inch wise. They are so in each other’s faces, Carmen’s a bit shorter than Richie, and that somehow does not make him any less intimidating. This has been brewing long before you showed up, that much is very fucking clear. What caused the snap to happen now is beyond you.

You cannot find a moment to interrupt, to attempt to mediate. No one can. The kitchen is divided, some continue cooking to avoid the situation, some have stopped to watch, wondering to themselves who’s going to intervene, and some are like you, waiting for the right moment to step in. There will never be a right moment to step in.

“Where were you, when I fuckin’ put your brother in the ground, you selfish piece of shit?”

Oh. Stray bullet, for you. You wince— Not that you weren’t already, but that was definitely a personal hit. Richie’s still harbouring resentment over that for Carmen, which means he still holds it somewhere for you, too. And at least Carmen came back after, to take care of The Beef. Where the fuck were you for the better half of a year? Vanished. You completely vanished, on him.

“You’re so fucking obsessed with my family— Such—You’re such a fucking leech.”

You catch it from Carmen, too. Does Carmen see you as a leech? A parasite, tethering to his family? To his work? Is that why he’s mad, right now? You’ve inserted yourself without asking— You’re so pushy— No, no, he likes that your pushy, you’re good. He doesn’t think that about you, he doesn’t actually think Richie is a leech either, he’s just saying shit to start shit. It’s working. He’s really stirring up shit.

“Oh, I’m fucking obsessed—” “You fucking leech—” “I’m so fucking obsessed with you.” “I should’ve cut you out!” “Yeah.” “I should’ve fuckin’ cut you out!”

“I fuckin’ love you!” Richie points in Carmen’s face, and Carmen somehow manages to not give a shit. It does nothing, for Richie to have said this, and that is shattering. Sydney reaches for your hand, you don’t look at her, you only know it’s her because of the band-aids. You take it.

“You fucking need me!”

“I fucking love you!”

“You’re fucking nothing!”

“Don’t fucking say that!” That’s when you jump in. Practically call and response, for you. Your body processes what Carmen even said before your brain does. That was the straw. Carmen picked the wrong fucking one, to say that in front of. Carmen drew the line a lot of times, Carmen drew the line when he said to respect that Asshole— Quite frankly, Carmen drew the line with the broken sauce ‘you want a star’ bullshit with Syd— But this was the back breaker, for you.

You let go of Syd’s hand, moving to be in between the men, back facing Richie, defending him, “Don’t fuckin’ say that shit to Richie— To anyone, ‘specially not Richie.”

“Oh, like he’s some fuckin’ prize?” Your eyes go wide, like dinner plates. Carmen continues, “You wanna fix him, too? Add him to the list?”

“Fix him?” Is that what he thinks of you? That you think people need ‘fixing’? “I’m not trying to fix anyone, Carmen.”

“Didn’t try to fix Mikey?”

You straighten up a bit, whole brain dialing up. “Excuse me?”

“You’re excused.”

You adore Carmen, but in this moment, you cannot help but think of all the utterly life ruining comebacks you could say to set him on his ass, right now. Bite your tongue, same team. “Oh, I’m excused?”

“You don’t fuckin’ work here.” Ouch.

“Oh, suddenly that’s a problem—”

“Think you’re the fuckin’ peoples’ princess—” Ouch.

“That is not what I’m doing—”

“No no, of course it’s not, you’re such a goddamn saviour, modern day Christ.” Ouch.

“Carmen—” Richie tries to step in front of you, you put the back of your hand on his chest, holding him back. Time for you to prove what you said, in your kitchen, just a few days ago. Time to prove to Carmen, and quite frankly, yourself, that you can take this. That you can take his teeth. Carmen gave you fair warning, that the shoe could drop, that he might do this. Your first fight. It came a lot faster than you expected, but fair warning’s a fair warning.

“Say what you wanna say, Carmen.”

“Where’s your fucking invoice?” Carmen’s never swore at you, you’re pretty sure. It feels weird, in your chest. Cornering. You frown. “You didn’t fuckin’ give it to Nat, don’t lie.”

“It’s complicated.” It’s a legitimate answer, to you. It is complicated. “We can talk about it, after—”

“I don’t need to be some fuckin’ charity tax write-off, alright?” Carmen interrupts, he doesn’t care to hear your explanation. He’s already decided your intentions, and that feels very unfair, doesn’t feel like you’re on the same team. “Just fucking charge me. You wanna work here? Fucking charge me.”

Is he trying to make your entire dynamic transactional? Why is he acting like this? What did you do wrong? Don’t tear up. You can take it. You can take the teeth, Tony, come on. “That’s not—”

“I don’t need fuckin’ fixing, alright, I’m not another fucking addict—”

You can feel bristle Richie behind you. You both handled that ‘fucking addict’ first hand, and you certainly don’t care for him to be referred to as such. You interrupt Carmen’s tirade, “Don’t say that shit—”

Carmen rolls back his head, like he’s tired of some sort of façade— Like you’re being fake. “Oh, my fucking God—”

“What! What the fuck—” “He’s fucking dead, you can say it— He was a fucking loser junkie—”

He doesn’t mean it, he doesn’t mean it, he doesn’t mean it. He’s just trying to start shit. Same team. He’s just hurt over something he hasn’t admitted yet. Same team.

“Carmen—” You can’t get a word out, with this guy. God, you wish this was at least behind closed doors. Wish he’d give you and Richie the grace of breaking you both down without an audience.

“And, and—” There’s a split second of manic laughter to it, he’s so incensed by the idea. “You, you fucking gave that junkie money?”

You’re quick to furrow your brows, emphatically shaking your head. Did you give him discounts on services and pay his diner tab on occasion? Sure. But that’s an entirely different thing. “I never gave Mikey a cent—”

“Oh?” Carmen shrugs, “So you don’t have a joint bank account?”

Oh.

Oh. Is that what this is fucking about? He found some paperwork or a debit card lying around and lost his shit? Carmen and Mikey are very different people, and you love that, but one of your least favourite differences is Mikey never circled the drain, when it came to what he didn’t like. Carmen’s spent forever, needling Richie, and then needling you over some fucking joint bank account? That still doesn’t feel like it, though. There’s gotta be something he’s not saying.

To be fair, you know how the man spirals, you were hoping to explain these weird leftovers from your history yourself. This is what the painting was for. You were supposed to start on the first page— God, at the very least, a softer page, one that makes it all make sense, for him.

“Carmen, I get why you may be confused, but I—”

“Don’t tell me I’m fucking confused. I’m not fucking confused— I— This is my fucking kitchen, alright?” Entirely nonsensical. Too many thoughts are stirring in his head.

It’s hard to keep your eyes from watering. Take the teeth, same team. It was easier to compartmentalize with Mikey, when he yelled at you, because his eyes were blown out, and you could tell that it wasn’t him talking to you. But this is a sober Carmen. This is what he deep down, somewhere, thinks of you, isn’t it? He doesn’t think you belong in his kitchen. Don’t belong here.

“That— That fuckin’ asshole out front, or whatever you fuckin’ call him?” He points to booth twelve, through the window. You are now reminded that there is a window, and that there are more people than just the kitchen, here, there’s patrons. If they craned their necks and listened close, the sound proofing would keep them from hearing Carmen, but you feel like they could probably hear the way your heart is struggling to keep pace.

“That’s me— That’s who the fuck I am. And I’m good like that, so—So if he’s a fuckin’ creep so am I. N’ I don’t need you comin’ in my fuckin’ kitchen, comin’ in my fuckin’ life, actin’ like you know better than me!”

“I never said I know better than you!”

“You didn’t need to!”

“I—” You swallow your spit. You have always tried to keep a level field, with Carmen. Since day one. “I never meant—”

“I don’t— I am not your fuckin’ charity case, you do not need to-to donate to me to make up for the fact that you failed Mikey!”

Yeah.

You can’t take these teeth.

Carmen Anthony Berzatto realizes a couple of things, seven things, in quick succession, after he says this.

Thing One. His middle name is Anthony. Tony. That’s kind of funny. He should tell you that, make you laugh. He never really thought about it, until now. Didn’t have one of those moments where his brain disconnects from his body as a method of escaping the poison in his mouth, so it can have plausible deniability, until right now.

Thing Two. You are not Mikey. He had gotten so caught up, over the past week, conflating the fact that you’re both so likable and so ‘The Guy’ with the idea that you’re just the same. You’re not. You don’t react to being pushed and screamed at, like Mikey did, you don’t scream back. You defend yourself, but you don’t bite back at him, the way he bit at you. You don’t fight. You don’t get mean. You are not Mikey. Carmen always took Mikey trying to help as him trying to one up him; a silent way of saying he was better. You are not Mikey. You helping around the kitchen tonight, helping him every fucking day, was never you trying to one up him— Let alone fix him.

Thing Three. Your cherry and lamb plate is nowhere to be seen. It’s only been like three, five minutes? Where’d it go? He can’t even find a plate of bones. You’re never going to speak to him again, after this, he knows that. He’s never going to hear straight from you what you thought, he needs to see if you cleaned the plate.

Thing Four. He didn’t even ask. He didn’t even mention the photos, the thing that he was actually hung up about. Carmen’s confrontational, but not in the way that matters. He yells, but it’s never the thing he actually wants to yell about. Those candles could’ve been for anything. How old was Eva, when you met Mikey? Carmen doesn’t know, he wasn’t here. Could’ve just been birthdays. There’s a million reasons to have those photos, there’s a million reasons to have a joint bank account. He should’ve asked. He should’ve listened when you were trying to explain. You were trying to explain. You had something to say. You even acknowledged how confused he must be. How confused must you be, right now? He didn’t explain why he was yelling, at all. He didn’t ask, and he didn’t listen.

Thing Five. Carmen wasn’t here. You were. You were here. He blames himself, for his brother’s suicide, and he wasn’t even here. And then there’s you. You were here, and you probably took Mikey on your shoulders the way you take everything on your shoulders. And he just said you failed. He never asked you, if you blamed yourself, but he doesn’t need to. Everyone blames themselves. God, why did he call Richie nothing? Richie was here, too. He’s not a fucking leech, he was here. And that’s a fuck of a lot more than Carmen did. It’s not just about when Richie put his brother in the ground, it was the years before, proceeding, that Carmen wasn’t here for, and both of you were. And he just fucking said that you failed. He said it was your fault.

Thing Six. Carmen glances over your trembling shoulders, out the window, to where he can just see the edge of his old Exec’s head. Who he’s just said he is. Ugh. He thinks back to when that man became Exec, and Carmen took over as head. He remembers the promise he made to himself, when he went back to his shitty New York studio apartment and cracked open an incredibly expensive bottle of champagne (gifted) to drink alone on his mattress with no bedframe. He promised himself that no matter how bad it got in the kitchen, no matter how bad it got in his head, he would never get in someone’s ear and tell them that they were no good, terrible, slow, useless, better off dead, dumb fuck. He promised himself, that he would never make someone cry in his kitchen.

Point Seven. He’s resented the fact for the past week, that he hasn’t gotten to be the first person to do a lot of things, with you. He’s resented how much he missed out on, how much he wishes it was him in the photos, in the memories. But now you get to be one of his firsts. You get to be the first person he’s ever made cry, in his kitchen. When his brain comes back to his body, and he repeats back to himself the exchange that just happened. Yeah, he’d cry, too.

You have wonderfully bright eyes. He didn’t tell you that, before. He should’ve. He gets compliments on his bright blue eyes a lot, but yours just have this glow from within, about them. A brightness that he doesn’t, a sweetness that his don’t. That’s gone now. Eyes go from wide to hurt to vacant. Gone. Devoid. Hand over your mouth to cover the wobbling of your bottom lip. You look like he did, two years ago, at the French Laundry. A shell of what he was. A shell of what you are.

Carmen was right, he is the man out front. That’s who he is. That’s what he is.

A husk, biting down on the hand that feeds; defending nothing from no threat.

Richie didn’t need to call you, to let you know that Carmen’s awful for you, that he’s an asshole to everyone around him, that he’s sharp and not worth your time. Richie didn’t need to call you, to tell you that he’s just some fucking creep Executive Chef, but this time, he doesn’t even have any stars to retain about it. Richie didn’t need to call you. Carmen told you himself who he is, just fine.

Please make eye-contact. Please look him in the eyes, you used to do it all the time. You might never look him in the eyes again, please do it one more time. He didn’t savour it, before, didn’t hold it, when he should’ve. He would’ve, if he knew it would’ve been the last time. He should’ve been savouring it every time. He should’ve kissed you, when you kissed him on the temple— He should’ve let you know. You’re so smart, when it comes to emotions and things— Everything. Intuitive. If you’d look him in the eyes, you’d be able to tell how sorry he is, how wrong he knows he is for saying everything he said. But you’re downcast, trying to zero in on something.

You swallow, blinking wildly in a failed attempt to stall tears, and nod imperceptibly, digesting his words. He wishes you wouldn’t. This is the last thing he’d want you to eat.

Sydney is already rushing to your side, her station long forgotten. “Yoyoyoyoyo—”

She’s distressed, because she cares about you, hurrying to comfort you, taking your hand, then arm, then shoulder. She’s trying to get you to look at her, you won’t. You won’t look at anyone. She’s crouching to get in your field of vision. “C’mon, c’mon—”

Richie is behind you, where he should be, already squaring himself up, making himself taller. Carmen has never wanted someone to hit him, he’s pretty sure, until right now. He just wishes it was you doing it. Fight him back, please. Break his jaw, permanently, please. Keep him from saying anything ever again. Keep him from making you make that face, ever again. He wishes it was you doing it, but he’ll take Richie as a close second.

Richie steps in front of you, grabbing him by his collar, good. “How could you fuckin’ say that shit to Chippy—”

“Please don’t call me Chip.” Is the first thing you say, voice quiet, cracking. You’re pinching the bridge of your nose, hard, thumb nail digging in. Eyes closed. You’re trying to hold it down. “Not right now.”

And like a guard dog, Richie heels. Of course, Richie would find you more important than violence. He cares. You put a hand over Syd's, on your shoulder, squeezing it. “I’m good, Syd.”

Everyone knows you’re not good. Your voice cracks painfully, again, when you say you’re good. “Just gimme a second.”

“I love you, dude.”

“I know, Syd—” “Will you let me?” “I—”

You take one deep breath, slow, rubbing your thumb over her hand. She gives you a clean dish rag. You wipe your tears and blow your nose. When you lift your head back up, to face the crowd that is the kitchen, it’s like it never happened. Well, your face still has that puffiness and redness to it, and your eyes certainly look irritated and glassy. But you’ve gathered such resolve back, immediately. Hardened up, immediately. Turned off a sect of yourself. If Carmen didn’t know you, he doesn’t think he’d be able to tell you were just crying.

“Apologize,” —He'll grovel to high hell— “To Richie.”

Carmen’s eyes flicker with confusion, just for a second, you catch it. You repeat, clearer. “Apologize to Richie. Say you didn’t fuckin’ mean that.”

Carmen doesn’t need a broken jaw, to go speechless, apparently. You don’t care to defend yourself at all, here. Never put yourself first. He frowns, you don’t take it the right way, no, why would you? You speak with an extra layer of gravity.

“Berzatto.” Hurts worse than when you say Carmen with disappointment. Deserved punishment.

“I’m sorry, Richie…Not nothing.”

“Not fuckin’ forgiven—” You put a hand up, turning your head to face the man behind you. “Rich.”

“Oh, don’t—”

“Say sorry—” “He fuckin’ started it—” “You didn’t have to entertain it.” “He was bein’ a bitch—” “Jerimovich!”It’s more fun, when you do it to Richie. More kindergarten teacher like, breaking up a fight at recess.

“I’m fuckin’ sorry, Cousin.” Richie does not mean it. It’s okay. He doesn’t have to. He was right. Didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.

You turn back to Carmen, of whom you still will not make eye contact. That’s fair. “Can Richie take five?” He doesn’t like that you feel like you have to ask him for permission, now. “He’s gotta help me carry tools, to my car.”

That’s a chance to talk to you, alone. “I can—”

“No.” You shoot Carmen down quickly. “Richie’s got it. You’ve gotta keep your kitchen in order.”

That hurts. But he said it. He said it was his kitchen, he said you didn’t work here. You’re so much more than an employee. You’re family, everyone here treats you like family. This is your kitchen, too. He doesn’t really care what anyone else thinks, right now, but it also occurring to him that he said all that in front of everyone here, everyone who adores you. None of these people have seen this side of you— You didn’t come to the funeral. This is probably why. It’s pretty clear you don’t like crying in front of people, the way you immediately go somewhere else mentally.

Richie’s already walking, you didn’t actually ask him to grab your tools from the corner of the kitchen, but he just does it. Wordless. Richie knows how to show that he loves you. Carmen could learn, from that. Carmen could learn from Sydney too, she said it, and she’s still holding your arm.

Carmen takes a step forward to you, and what you mean by it, he’s not sure, but what he does see, is you take a step back. He immediately takes two steps back.

You’re very good. Too good, too good for anyone. Not gonna change my mind ‘bout that. That’s what he said to you, when you confessed you were worried he would ‘figure out’ you weren’t good. He lied to you. The other shoe dropped and he’s the one that made it.

You sniff, you feel bad for taking a step back, but you think if Carmen touched you right now, you’d have a full-blown meltdown, and you’d like to hold some modicum of respect amongst your peers here.

Carmen hates you. You didn’t expect that. But it’s fair. You’re not certain what he saw along with the joint bank account, but if he was able to put the pieces together, it makes sense. You failed his brother, failed Mikey. God, it’s still ringing in your ears. You killed him. Everyone knows that. Everyone hates you. He said the quiet thing, that everyone here knows, out loud. You didn’t do enough. You weren’t smart enough. You failed to do the one job you’ve been trained for, save someone, set them at ease— For fuckssake, just keep your friend from dying. Is that so fucking difficult? Was that so hard? He’s right to say it. You don’t have the right to be upset right now. He doesn’t owe you anything. You owe him.

You owe him.

You look to Syd, “You have a pen?”

You can tell she doesn’t like that you’re essentially blocking off the part of your brain that feels pain. What’d she expect? You were an E.M.T. for three years, you learned how to turn off your brain. She gives you the pen from her breast pocket anyways. You dig through your pants pocket for a slip of paper, oh shit, the note from Sweeps, you completely forgot about it. It’s a folded guest check, it says ‘B12’ on the front. Booth Twelve, you infer. You unfold and read Sweeps' chicken scratch. It’s nice to focus on something that isn’t the rotting feeling inside you… No fucking way.

“Sweeps!”

“Yuh-huh?” It’s nice that Sweeps has only just came back in from his smoke break. He has no idea why everyone’s shocked and/or enraged right now, and there’s something beautiful and perfect about that. Sanct.

“Did he seem serious?” You hold the note between two fingers for him to see and know what you’re talking about.

Sweeps shrugs, slipping his Marlboro pack into his inner breast pocket. “You can fuckin’ read that guy?”

A very fair call. You sigh, then flip the note over, it’s hard to write, using your hand as a pad, but it doesn’t really matter, neatness doesn’t matter. Just write it fast so you can get the fuck out of here and cry in your car about a boy that doesn’t love you and never will.

“Freezer door hotfix, eighty. Plumbing repair, took about four hours, that’s two-fifty. House call oven, seventy. Oven hotfix just now, plus replacement part costs… One-twenty.”

You hate doing this. It sucks to be doing this. This is what the fucking painting was for. Why couldn’t he just let you do it in the order you wanted? You were supposed to start this on a better page.

“Said I’d pay you back for that pinot, which is about twenty on wholesale, so… Five hundred even.”

You click and unclick the pen, several times, shoulders tensing. “I don’t think you need fixing, and I wasn’t trying to make up for anything. I’m sorry, Carmen.”

“I’m—” It’s the first time he’s tried to speak, and you just can’t let him. You can’t listen to his voice right now, you know it’s unfair, but you can’t, so you interrupt him.

“I didn’t tell Nat you covered the invoice.”

You hand him the note, careful to hold it at the very edges, so you don’t make contact when he takes it. “I owe you two thousand.”

At the bottom of your shoddy invoice, it reads, ‘Advanced Payment, M. Berzatto. $2,500.’

You told him it was fucking complicated.

He should’ve let it lie. He should’ve bitten his fucking tongue, like you did for him constantly. You told Nat her brother covered the invoice; you just didn’t say which one. Was it intentionally sneaky? Yeah, obviously, because how were you supposed to fucking explain that? It’s fucking complicated. But no, Carmen didn’t fucking want to hear anything you tried to explain, so you’re just gonna let his stupid fucking dumbfounded face stay that way. If he just told you what he actually saw, like a fucking adult, you could’ve done so, happily. But Carmen hates you, and he’s decided what you are. He probably doesn’t want to hear much of your voice, anyways. Keep it short.

“So just… I’ll just uhm… Wire you. Or something.”

You sigh, thinking about what’s on the other side of that fucking note. “You have my number, you can give it to him, if you want.”

The Exec liked the cherry and lamb dish. Of course he would, it was perfect. It also seems like he enjoys that you’re both smart and clearly ‘spunky’, or some shit. He wants the ‘wine girl’s’ number. Didn’t even bother to remember you said Jack. And maybe, just maybe, he’ll send the mystical wine girl his close friend Michelin Guide Inspector’s number, and maybe they’ll review the place. Maybe. Doesn’t matter to you. Not your kitchen.

A chance at a chance at a chance or your well-being? That’s Carmen’s choice now.

You snap your finger, pointing to the note, remembering. You never brought The Guy a wine, “Pinot Noir. Marcassin 2013. Top left shelf. Pit a cherry and put it on the rim.” It's the perfect pairing, for his dish.

At least get him a star, if he has to hate you.

When you start to move, Syd’s still holding onto you. You don’t pull her off, but you do put your hand over hers, and she knows what you want. She doesn’t care. She repeats. “Will you let me?”

Goddammit. Does she want you crying all over again? You’re trying very hard to not look like a wuss, right now. “I will. Just need five minutes alone, okay? I’ll wait outside.”

She doesn’t want to, but you’re not giving her many other options here, so Syd nods and lets you go. “Five minutes.”

“Five minutes.” You clap your hands together, eyes glazing over the rest of the staff. Rest of your family. You’re trying not to read their expressions because if you do you very well might scream, cry, and throw up all at the same time. “Everyone! Back to work! It’s half past five you’ve still got a whole night ahead, look alive, Chefs.”

You pass Carmen, careful not to bump shoulders. Just get out of here unscathed. Hopefully he’s not too mad about the dish swap. You made the right call. It won’t matter if he’s mad, anyways, actually, he already hates you.

At least be something of value, for him, if he has to hate you.

Richie’s out there, leaning against the trunk of your shitty 2004 Dodge Intrepid. How he knew it was yours, you’re not sure. Probably the goofy bumper stickers. It’s a piece of shit. Broken fob. You have to use your key to unlock the trunk. It still works. You speak at once.

“What the fuck was that?”

You both laugh, though it’s hollow. You unlock the trunk, Richie throws your tools in. He’s first to add. “You didn’t actually want me to fuckin’ apologize, did you?”

You shrug, head tilting back and forth, he kisses his teeth, you supplement. “Listen, the ‘you don’t have a kid’— Touch crazy.”

“He fuckin’ started it!” “I know he fuckin’ did, I’m not defendin’ him!”

You purse your lips. There was the other thing Richie said. “I’m sorry I wasn’t at the funeral, Cousin.”

“Ah, oh…” Richie attempts to wave it off, shrugging, as if it wasn’t a huge fucking deal to him just two minutes ago. “It’s good—”

“It’s not.” You interject. Richie always says he’s fucking good, when he’s not. He’s not good about Tif, he’s not good about the Exec making fun of him, he’s not good about you abandoning him, for a year. “It’s not good, Richie, and I’m sorry.”

You swallow, closing your trunk. You attempt to remember bits and pieces of your prepared speech, from dinner. But this is reality, and typically once transferred from your mind, it makes the words so much clunkier, lines forgotten, here and there.

“I should’ve been here, after. It was fucked up, that I just left. Made you hold it down, by yourself, and— And I can’t fucking imagine, Richie, how hard that must’ve been.”

Standing in The Bear is a touch easier, because it’s so different now. But Richie was there, days after Mikey died, in The Beef. Taking smoke breaks with a shadow that was no longer next to him. Forced to keep morale up, all by himself. You can imagine how hard it must’ve been, and that’s exactly why you stopped coming around.

Richie can only bring himself to nod, swiping his nose, because it’s starting to run.

“I— I didn’t cut you out. I want you to know that.” Carmen was so cruel, with that shit. “That wasn’t me cutting you out. I— I was tryna cut myself out.”

He halfheartedly laughs, confused. “Fucks that mean, Cousin?”

“I—” How can you word this in a way that isn’t just as cruel? “I didn’t think we were friends.”

He mimics being shot. You add, “Fuckin’ listen—” “Fuckin’ drive-by—”

“I just didn’t think— I don’t think anyone’s my friend, I don’t think.”

“What’s that even begin to mean?”

“I… I feel like… I’m just like… So insecure, about my place in relationships, that like— Like I’m not worth people’s time. Like we were only friends because we were friends with Mikey and we were handling him and I was like— Like I was helpful. So, like, when he died, it was like… We— There was no reason, for you to be friends with me, anymore. No us.”

Richie takes a moment, to digest it. The silence is terrible for you though, so you continue. “I’m startin’ to realize, that not likin’ myself, can actually really end up hurtin’ the people I love—”

“I’d still love you, even if you weren’t helpful. By the by.”

Richie’s interruption hits you in the chest like a fucking freight train. “Oh Jesus Christ, Richie—”

“What? What the fuck—”

“That was just fuckin’ crazy.” You cover your eyes, tears already coming to a head. He’s relieved, you mean crazy like good.

“Fuck, Richie, I love you.” You sniff, trying to look at him through watery eyes, it’s near impossible to do without warbling. “Man… You were here.”

Now it’s Richie’s turn to have his tear-jerking trigger phase said. “Oh, don’t start, Chip—”

“You were fucking here, Richie, Carmen doesn’t fuckin’ get that— No one gets that.” You’re kind of blubbering, honestly, starting to point at him, speaking emphatically. It might be better that this is happening in the parking lot rather than in the middle of the restaurant.

“You’re fucking— You’re fucking something, okay? Carmen is a bitch, you were right— You’re good, Richie. You’re fucking good and—and— You were here, and you’re important, and— And— I didn’t fuckin’ say that enough, back then. So, I’m fuckin’ doin’ it now. I love you, and I’m here, and if fuckin’— If Eva ever needs anything, I’m there, if you’re ever in need, I’m there. If you just want to fuckin— Fuckin’ text someone, and actually just hang out like Normals—I’m there for that, too. I’d even go to fucking Tif’s wedding with you, if that helped.”

Richie’s got a couple tears going, which is good for you, because it makes your sobbing less embarrassing. “Fuck, Cousin…” He looks down, rubbing the bridge of his nose, like a self-soothing technique. When he looks back up to face you, he blurts it out.

“You wanna see a Taylor Swift concert wit’ me?”

Your response is immediate and baffled, “What?”

“I’ve got three tickets for me n’ Eva but Tif won’t come, it’s in January.”

You take a moment to buffer, brain half moving out of the tender moment. Shaking your head in disbelief, still fully crying.

“Richie… That sounds, like the worst experience I could ever imagine. You couldn’t pay me to write an outing so perfectly curated to be the worst, for me.”

“Don’t fuckin’ hate on T Swift—” “Richie, I’d love to.”

The death grip grab and hug is so immediate. You feel bad for getting tears and probably snot on his coat, but he said himself it’s a knock off, so he’ll live.

“You didn’t fail Mikey, Chip.” He kisses the crown of your head. Richie must be a good dad. You’d tell him that, but he might overload, the man doesn’t get acknowledged much, you’ve got to take it slow with the praise. You don’t reply to his sentiment, so he repeats it.

“Y’did everythin’ you humanly could.”

“I could’ve done a couple things different.”

“So could I. It my fault, too, then?”

You both know very well, that you blame yourselves. And as much as both of you would like it to, this one cry-fest isn’t going to magically make all of those bleeding guilts go away. Especially not after Carmen tore those stitches right back open.

“Well, no—” “‘Xactly.”

But you accept it, for the moment. “…Okay.” For this moment, you get the lesson.

And you’ll both forget it tomorrow, when you have that split second in the A.M. Where Mikey is still alive, before you remember. But right now, it’s neither of your faults that the glue between you died and left you both to figure out how to still stick together. You stay in that hug for quite a while, crying and rocking back and forth, before Richie lets go saying, “Aright, I do actually need a fuckin’ cig.”

“You’re going to give me second hand smoke and kill me.”

He smirks, already fishing out a loosie from his pocket. “We can only hope.”

Despite your complaints and not being a smoker, you still pull out a lighter for him. Mom friend. Never know when you’re going to need a fire. You cup the flame for him. This is the worst Friday of your life, you’re pretty sure. But here is Richie, sticking beside you. And here you are, sticking beside him.

Syd steps out, she keeps crossing between a walk and a jog to you two, unsure of what looks more awkward. You don’t know, but you do know the option of switching between both is easily the most awkward.

She asks, walk-jogging up to you, “Are you good?”

“I’ve been better.”

She grabs your face in her hands, reviewing your puffy bleary-eyed face. Just looking at it makes her want to cry, too. You hold her wrists. “M’sorry for cryin’ in your kitchen. I know that’s the type shit you deal with all the time—”

Richie and Syd speak in unison, a rarity, for them to be on the same page. “No the fuck it’s not.”

Sydney continues, “That was extremely not normal. Crazy fucked up of him to say that shit— I don’t even know like— Like any of the backstory, but even I know that was fucked up to say.”

You sniff, nodding slightly. “Yeah, a little.”

“A lot.”

You nod, no longer fighting to downplay it. That was fucked up of Carmen, you don’t need to try to make it seem less bad. “Yeah, a lot.”

She nods back, still holding your face. Bandaged fingers pressed against your head. “What d’you wanna do?”

“Go home?” Cry? Eat freezer cake?

“Well, yeah.” She chuckles, so you do too. “I mean like, like—” She nods behind her, to The Bear. What do you want to do going forward? Never talk to him again? I’ll do it, too. She’s saying, wordlessly.

“I— I don’t fuckin’ know.” You admit, laughing, but hollow. The very idea of reconciliation feels impossible, at the moment. “I think I’m just gonna, fuckin’ ignore it, until it comes up. Just don’t break shit until I figure it out, I guess.”

“Wedding gig is gonna be so awkward.”

“Oh, fuck—” Entirely forgot, about the wedding gig, next weekend. Vinnie and Mira, destination wedding. New York.

Richie pipes in, “Tonight’s gonna be awkward enough, don’t even wanna go the fuck back in.”

Syd nods, letting go of your face. “I think like, half the kitchen wants to walk right now, just to fuck with him. I do, too. Should we just say fuck this and go to Mattina?”

“Don’t think they’re open, only do breakfast and lunch.” Richie knows their hours; it wasn’t always just Mikey and you there. He takes a drag, he blows it away from you, so you don’t get second hand smoke.

“Fuck... Could do Denny’s? Inky, you fuck with Denny’s, still?”

‘Think once you realize, you’ll leave, and it’ll all leave with you.’ That’s what Carmen was scared of, exactly. What he thought would happen, if the other shoe dropped. Is this you leaving? This might be you leaving. This should be more dramatic, if this is you leaving, shouldn’t it? There should be finale music ringing in your ears, somehow. But instead, you’re in a parking lot with a chain smoker and your girl, making shitty diner plans.

You can’t let them leave Carmen. So much work cannot be wasted just for your hurt heart. You shake your head— Then nod, confusing yourself. “I—I do still fuck with Denny’s, but y’all have to go back in, you can’t fuck him over.”

“I very specifically want to fuck him over.” Syd’s quick to reply, Richie nods, agreeing. These two are only bonding over a mutual love of you and a current mutual hate of Carmen.

“You gotta get your star, Squid.”

She swallows, at that. She loves you, she does. But you’re right. You always are. This is her entirely livelihood and career, she can’t just dip out, because of a fight. She’s done it before, during the worst rush of her life, but that was small potatoes compared to this.

“Go hold it down,” You look at both of them, nodding to The Bear. “Don’t let anyone walk, solidarity is cute, but I’ll be okay.”

Regardless of how right you are, both Richie and Syd boo you. “Let him drown!”

It’s hard not to laugh. “Fuckin’ —guys— I’m serious.”

“I’m fuckin’ serious too, Chip!” Richie jabs at your shoulder, lightly, “Thought you said you take me fuckin’ serious?”

“Bitch—” You click your tongue, pointing at him, sighing. You can’t help but smile. They’re both on your team, to the bitter end. “I will see you at the wedding, aright? I’ll text you, both of you.”

“You driving, too?”

You and Syd both back up, for a second, expressions baffled. You’re first to ask Richie, “You’re driving?”

He’s equally confused. “What, you’re fuckin’ flying?”

“Cicero’s paying, why wouldn’t we?”

“Uncle Jimmy is fuckin’ paying?!” Richie gives him an emotionally charged chocolate covered banana and still hasn’t gotten on Uncle’s good side? This is bullshit.

“He’s paying for everyone! Or at least I thought he was—” Syd replies for you. “That was like the whole fuckin’ deal— Did you not get emailed a boarding pass?”

“No! He told me to get gas— You’re fuckin’ flying—?”

You clap your hands together, “Richie, what the fuck is going on in your life that this is not the first thing that you clarified for plans?” You tap Syd on the shoulder, “Marcus said he’s cool with switching seats, by the way, so we can sit together.”

“I have a fuckin kid, aright—”

“Ooohh—” You and Syd mock him in unison. “We get it.” “Whoop-di-doo.” “Did you hear, Squid?” “What’s that, Inky?” “Richie has a kid!” “What? No way. He definitely doesn’t bring it up all the fuckin’ time.”

“Alright, fuck you two.” He waves you both off. “Plane's gonna crash.”

Syd shrugs, “You’re doing a twelve-hour road trip, you’re gonna crash—”

“Fucks Inky mean anyways? Stupid ass nickname—” “Oh, like Chip is so original—” “Actually, a dead guy coined it, so betchu feel real dumb now—” “I’m not capable of feeling dumb—”

You interrupt, “Girls, girls, you’re both beautiful.”

That quells them with snorts of laughter, quickly. They both shove at you. Equilibrium.

You explain to Rich, “I called Syd ‘Squid’ in high-school— Literally just ‘cause it sounds funny, and uh, she felt jealous that she didn’t have one for me—”

“I don’t know if jealous is the word—” “So Inky just became the call n’ response. Cause, cause squid ink?”

“Yeah, I’m not fuckin’ stupid. I can do two plus two, Chip.” Richie tucks his hands in his pockets. It’s starting to get a little chilly. You’re now remembering you left Carmen’s jacket at expo. Goddammit, now you’re remembering Carmen and your heart hurts again. You hug your shoulders.

“What’s Chip, anyways?” Syd asks, you and Richie both cringe, just slightly. Syd mimics it. “Bad?”

You shrug, “Just… It takes a lot, to explain, I guess.” Personal. “We’ll need a trip to Denny’s, for that one.”

“So? Let’s go.”

What did you just say. “Bitch—”

“Heard.” Syd cuts you off, laughing. She gives you a tight hug. “Text me when you get home.”

You hug her back, even tighter, if possible. “I will.”

“I’m glad you’re back.” It’s been three years, since you were really daily friends with Syd. And though you clicked right back into place no problem, in this hug, the feeling really starts to set in of how much you two needed each other this whole time. It’s been so long since you both had a best friend. It was good to be apart, and learn things apart, but now you’re both back. It’s not just Richie that you returned to.

“I’m glad I’m back, too.” You clap her back a few times, before letting go. “Alright, it’s been like ten fucking minutes, go be great. Get a star. Or a chance at a chance for a star.”

“Heard, Chip.” “Heard, Ink.”

One last hug from Richie, before they head back in, and you pop in your car, and drive off. Back home. Music blasts from your radio the entire ride, to keep you from thinking. Screaming along to diss tracks help soothe the soul in any scenario, you think. Won’t let anything hit, this way.

A stray cat, the stray cat, the one you feed on your fire escape, is surprise surprise, on your fire escape, when you get home. She’s (you think she’s a she, you’re not super sure how to check, you’re a former E.M.T, not a Vet tech.) biting the flowers you potted out there. The flowers Carmen stole for you.

After a quick google check to make sure none of them are poisonous to cats, you let her. Let the cat decide how much of him stays. You dish out a pile of kibble for her on the one black plate Carmen gave you. You leave it on the fire escape, long after she finishes. Let the elements decide if it gets ruined.

Let Carmen breaking your text streak, never sending you a belated Connections result tonight, decide if this is the end.

This could be the end.

The same picture frame that fell off your wall, just two weeks ago, when you were making the painting for Carmen, falls again. You grumble, picking up the picture frame, setting it on the coffee table. You’ll nail it up properly in the morning. You roll your eyes at the phantom that you’re never certain actually haunts you.  “Mikey, shut the fuck up, this is your fault, y’know…”

You sigh, staring nowhere. The wind blows against your window.  “I guess it's both our faults.”

You drag your feet, walking to your bedroom.

“I know you said I’d be a perfect match for your little brother, but at this point, I’m taking that as a read.”

It was so fun for me, the way y'all were like, ah, i'm sure this'll be so painful when this is resolved next chapter because Carmen will scream at her about it. hahahahahhaha-- You think the least yet most direct bitch of all time was going to actually confront what he was upset about? NO1!!!!!!! WE'VE ONLY GOT MORE QUESTIONS NOW. WHAT THE FUCK CARMEN!!! What's with that Advanced Payment? And I didn't lie bro, go back and read it, Tony did say Nat's brother covered it. Sneaky sneaky....

Oh, also. Y'all thought I would let the freezer fight slide by? Naahhhh, golden moment of television, just delayed the inevitable muhahahahha and got the FAILED MIKEY?!?!?!?! BROOOOOOOO was it as bad as you thought it would be or no? worse? better? lmk

I loved writing Syd and Richie w/ Tony here. I can't believe any of you thought I wouldn't see Richie and Tony's much needed reconciliation through--- If this was a Richie fanfic, 100% this would've been their smooch moment, fr. Also if you're a taylor swift fan, please don't be mad at me i was doing a funny okokokokokok-- (I also just think it means a lot more, if it's something she doesn't want to do, but will, for him)

i know it's technically still 2022 in their universe but tony was in that fucking car ride home listening to fuckin Ain't Shit, HISS, euphoria, Like That, Not Like Us, Not Nice (YOUR MAMA AINT WORTH THE CRACK YOU SMOKE BITCH!!!!!!!) I know she was so heated in there.

We've got a taglist, I'm bad at keeping track of it, but remember if u wanna be added to this silly little thing you need to hand in an essay (more like a cute lil paragraph) tellin' me what you thought! And also ask. Duh. BUT YA GOTTA DO BOTH!~

@anytim3youwant @navs-bhat @whoknowswhoiamtoday @gills-lounge @slut4supersoldiers @sinceweremutual @itsallacotar @catsrdabestsocks101 @popcornpoppin @renaissance-painting @lostinwonderland314 @v0ctin

I am sorry if your tag doesn't work this is why I hate tag lists tumblr always makes me manually type and sometimes it still don't even work...

As always, i'm always so grateful that you've given me your attention with reading, and if you have thoughts, i'd love to hear em! I always read your comments/reblogs too, even if I don't always reply. Adore y'all.

Next Part

[thestarsaroundyourscars]

Reddie 75 and 87 pleaseee :)

Thank you for the prompt. Here it is!

75. “We may be soulmates, but that does not mean you can just waltz in here like you own the place! I could have been naked or something!”

87. “What? Sorry–I didn’t hear you. I was too busy getting lost in your eyes. Ow! What? I was just trying to seduce you!”

Eddie pushed open the door to the cinema, welcoming the feeling of the cool air from the AC against his skin after walking all the way there in the hot summer air. The place was empty except for one person wiping the concession stand distractedly. That person looked up as soon as Eddie walked in, dropping the rag to adjust his glasses. 

“Eds my love!” Richie said, flashing him a huge grin.

“Hi Rich.” Eddie said. He had long ago given up on trying to get Richie to not to call him any of that, even if it still made his cheeks pink up every time. 

“How was the arcade?” Richie asked, his task abandoned, his attention now solely on Eddie. “I wish I could’ve gone with you guys.“ 

Bill and Eddie went to the arcade earlier that day. They had asked Richie to join them and he would’ve, if he didn’t have a shift at the cinema.

That was probably the only thing Richie didn’t like about his summer job ⎯missing plans with his friends. The free candy, the free tickets and the money, even if it wasn’t much, almost made up for it. 

Having Eddie visit him did too, he would often say. 

He did it all the time, visiting Richie. When the rest of the losers were busy or simply when he wanted to be out of the house, he would hang at the cinema and keep Richie company. Sometimes Richie would sneak him into movies if his supervisor wasn’t around or slip him a candy bar or a bucket of popcorn for free and if the place was really empty Richie would sometimes join him and they would watch a movie together and talked as loud as they liked. 

"It was good.” Eddie said, then grinned. “I beat Bill’s ass at street fighter and he had to pay for my ice cream.”

“That’s my Eds.” Richie said with a proud grin. Eddie’s cheeks flared up against his will. “You deserve a treat, pick anything you want.”

“You know what I want." 

Richie grinned, reaching for a package of Reese’s cups, Eddie’s favorite. He slid it over the counter with a wink. "I always know what you want Eds." 

Eddie rolled his eyes, unwrapping the candy and biting on it. He ignored Richie’s comment. "Slow day?" 

"More like fucking dead. You’re the third person to walk through those doors since I got here.” Richie groaned. In slow days like this, time seemed to pass even slower. “Are you here to see a movie?" 

Eddie shook his head, munching on his chocolate. "When Bill left I played a few more games but that got boring really fast so I thought I’d stop by.”

Richie offered Eddie a bright, smug smile. “Are you saying that I entertain you Eds?”

Eddie rolled his eyes, a smile threatening to break. “You amuse me at best.”

Richie grinned, pleased. “I’ll take that.” He said. “I’m really glad you came. I was one second away from bouncing off the walls.”

Eddie snorted, that didn’t come as a surprise. If he didn’t have anything to do, Richie tended to get antsy. “At what time do you get off?”

“Whenever you want baby.” Richie said with a leer. 

“Shut up.” Eddie said with an eye roll, taking a step away from the counter. “I’m leaving.”

“No! No Eds, come on.” Richie said, reaching for Eddie over the counter. “I don’t think I’ll make it if you leave. I’ll die of boredom.”

Eddie chuckled at his friend’s dramatics, not planning to leave at all. “Fine but only because I don’t have anything better to do.”

At that moment two girls walked in, tickets in hand and headed for the concession stand. Eddie recognized them from school, they were one or two years younger than them and they were obviously checking Richie out, giggling at his stupid jokes and whispering to each other when he had his back turned to them while filling up their popcorn bucket. Eddie tried not to glare but he only relaxed when the girls paid and left to go see their movie. 

When they disappeared behind the curtain, Richie was back with Eddie in an instant, leaning over the counter towards him and poking at the crease between Eddie’s eyebrows. “Don’t frown so much Eds, you’ll get wrinkles.”

Eddie schooled his features, blushing at being caught glaring at the girls, luckily for him Richie didn’t ask him what that was about. His arms were crossed over the counter and he was staring at Eddie intently, it made him fidget under his stare. “You⎯ uh. You didn’t tell me at what time your shift ends.” He asked, but Richie just stared at him with a funny look that Eddie couldn’t quite decipher. “Richie?”

“What? Sorry- I didn’t hear you.” Richie said, with a slight frown then he grinned and winked at Eddie. “I was too busy getting lost in your eyes.” Eddie reached over the register to swat at Richie’s head, while trying to will his cheeks to go back to their usual color. “Ow! What? I was just trying to seduce you!" 

Eddie rolled his eyes with a sigh. "You know Richie, if you put half the effort you put in trying to seduce me,” He said sarcastically and making air quotes with his fingers, “In flirting with girls like the ones who were just here instead, you might actually get a date.”

“Yeah, maybe except that I don’t want to date those girls, I want to date y⎯” Richie cut himself off but not fast enough. Eddie stared at him, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. “I mean⎯ uh. Hey, look, we’re almost out of⎯ uh. Gummy worms. I’ll be right back.” Richie rambled before disappearing into the backroom. 

Eddie stared at him and then at the door once it swung shut. His mind was going a mile a minute trying to make sense of what had just happened. There was no way Richie was about to say you as in I don’t want to date those girls I want to date you as in I want to date you Eddie. He was probably going to say your mom or something like that. Yeah, that made more sense. Except why would he stop himself or flee if that was all he was going to say?

“What the fuck?” Eddie muttered under his breath before ducking under the counter and following Richie, storming to the backroom. He needed to know how Richie planned to finish that sentence. 

He pushed the door open and it slammed against the wall, startling Richie who didn’t look like he had been looking for gummy worms but actually pacing around the small room, biting his nails. “Eds!” He said, voice coming out strangely high pitched. “Dude, we may be soulmates, but that does not mean you can just waltz in here like you own the place. I could have been naked or something.” He said with a laugh but it came out strained. 

Whatever Eddie had been planning to say died in his throat and he arched an eyebrow at Richie as the door swung shut behind him. “Soulmates? Richie what⎯ and why would you be naked in here? That makes no sense!”

Richie simply shrugged. “This backroom has seen a lot of things Eds and so have I, you don’t wanna know.”

Eddie opened his mouth to ask but thought better of it, shaking his head. “Whatever.” He said, he gave Richie a pointed look. “What was that back there?”

“What was what Eds?”

“Don’t play dumb with me Richie. What you said back there⎯” Richie gave him an innocent look and Eddie let out a frustrated groan. “You said you didn’t want to date those girls and then⎯ what were you going to say then?” 

Instead of answering Richie looked at the door, his only way out looking like he wanted to make a run for it. Eddie planted himself in front of the door, blocking him. Richie sighed, “Fuck.”

Eddie’s expression softened when he saw that Richie actually looked nervous and he approached him carefully, slowly. “Rich.”

“I was going to say I wanted to date you, not them.” Richie muttered under his breath but Eddie understood perfectly. He gulped, the hand that had been moving to touch Richie’s shoulder freezing in the space between them. “That’s why I flirt with you and not them. I mean I flirt with them a little I guess but not⎯ not like I do with you.”

“You⎯” Eddie frowned, genuinely confused. “Wait, you flirt with me? Like, for real?”

Richie let out a disbelieving laugh. “Pretty much since I met you Eddie, thanks for noticing.”

“But that was just you being you. Joking.”

“Yeah, no. I meant every word.” Richie said, hand hanging from his neck. 

“What the fuck?” Eddie muttered under his breath, distraught. How did he miss that?

Richie grimaced, stepping away from Eddie. “Listen you don’t⎯ we don’t have to talk about this we can just forget this happened and⎯”

“Shut up. I’m not⎯”

“Mad? You seem pretty mad.”

“I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at me for missing this.” He said, gesturing between them. 

“Okay?”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Eds I don’t know how I could be more obvious buddy. I just figured you didn’t feel the same way because you never said anything and⎯” His words were cut off by Eddie taking two long strides towards him and pulling him down by his neck, bringing their lips together. The angle was slightly off and he ended up pressing his mouth against Richie’s bottom lip and chin but he hoped it was enough to get the message across. Once Richie processed said message, he cradled Eddie’s face in his hands and angled his head right and then they were finally kissing, for real. They only broke apart when someone rang the bell on the concession stand, the sound traveling through the door to their ears. 

They stared at each other, blinking. “I⎯ I should get out there.” Richie said and Eddie nodded. “My shift ends in less than an hour though. Maybe⎯ if you want to wait, we can get dinner together? After?”

“Okay.” Eddie said and the bell chimed again. “Go, before they come here looking for us.”

“I’ll let you know when the coast is clear.” Richie said opening the door just a crack, blocking Eddie from view. Before slipping through, he turned to face Eddie one more time. “In case it wasn’t clear, I meant it was a date.”

Eddie’s face broke into a grin. “I know Rich.” He said. “And the answer is still yes.”

Tag list: @daddyphantomtbh @yes-dillman-yes   @richietoaster @beepbeeprichiellc @its-stranger-than-you-think   @lemonaayyee @pennys-pet-kitty @tinyarmedtrex   @richiefuckfacetozier @sam-i-am2468 @richardtoz  @s-s-georgie @reddie-for-anything @eddiefuckinkaspbrak @constantreaderfool @thundercatseddie @captainbartholomew @mirandonsky @proton-disaster-blaster @alargedepresso @purplepoisonedgem @pan-ini @reddie-to-cryy @reddieforlove @trashmouthnick @multi-fandom-wby @wheezyeds (if you want to be added, let me know!)

[a-glimpse-of-fantasy]

Moments

This is a work done together with @03patrickstar ^^

Chapter 1 – Never-Ending Night

⚠️Warning: Violence , Blood , Death

⚠️ This story takes after the final episode of Duskwood. So if you haven't finished the game first, this story contains heavy spoilers.

Summary: It has been almost three years since Jake disappeared without a trace. Everyone went back to their normal lives, and so did Faye. She did her best to forget about him, forget her love for him. But it all changes when Jake comes back. How was he suddenly able to come back to her? What secrets was he keeping from her?

***

Another normal, boring day. Faye would go to work and would come back home, entirely exhausted. She took one last look at her phone. Nothing, as usual. Her stomach churned, “Maybe I should just move on,” she muttered to herself.

As if she could.

It's been exactly two years, ten months and thirteen days since Jake disappeared. She was still counting days, contrary to her decision of moving on. Morning passed and noon arrived. She checked her phone habitually, only to be disappointed.

Faye recalled her ex-boyfriend asking every time they fought, "For whom are you so eagerly waiting? You don't have anything to do besides checking your phone every damn minute!" He was a good man. She was a bad woman; his girlfriend who was in love with another man.

She just couldn't help it.

The sense of loneliness that chased her persistently throughout her life, was still after her. Maybe that was the reason she fell so deeply for him. When she learned about Jake's painful past, it wasn't sympathy that ran through her, but empathy.

Always be rational. Don't let useless emotions get in the way. Bewildered of herself, going against her own life motto, Faye clicked her tongue.

She did wait for him, for about one year. Moving on, Faye had several flings, though none could satisfy her. Was that because she had already experienced what love was?

“Love. What a joke. It's not like I really care anyway. Such delusions can't bring me anywhere. If I relied on such foolish thoughts I wouldn't have survived.”

Deceased parents, greedy relatives, hellish life in a rotting orphanage, being chased for insurance money. What a life she lived…

Amidst such sentiments, Faye checked her phone screen in a daze. Again. “I should put an end to this folly.” Scoffing, she noticed a text. Faye halted, her eyes trembling.

An unknown number.

Only one message.

Hello Faye :)

***

Numerous men wearing black suits were everywhere. Faye could see everyone clearly as she was on the top of a hill. Everything was clear, akin to a painting. Though it was night, she could spot every single man, who was hiding here and there. Agents surrounded the entire mine. Hannah and Alan nor Richy were nowhere to be seen. They might have gone already, she thought.

Faye noticed a hooded figure. Crawling through the back of the cave, the man seemed wary. Not making a sound. She looked around in a hurry. The men in black suits were hiding, observing his every move. She wanted to let him know.

The figure would never be able to spot every hiding person. Only thanks to where she stood, Faye could catch every detail. Everything would be useless if she took no advantage. Faye grasped her phone, typing in a hurry. Trembling fingers caused numerous typos she never noticed.

The hooded figure didn't seem to care enough to check his phone at the moment. Her feet were cold, her petite body shaking hard, and fear invaded her deepest parts. Still, Faye was desperate. She jumped on her feet and ran hard. She deliberately let the agents see her, hoping that would distract them. But none of them seemed to notice her. Then that was all good, she chanted, shaking off the uneasiness crawling inside her. Faye was just about to catch the hooded man, calling his name…

'Jake!'

Moments passed.

"..."

Faye was back on the hill, but the scenery was different.

Jake was knocked to his knees, a gun pointing at his ebony hair. She screamed. Nothing came out of her lips. No sound at all.

Faye ran towards the mine again. Just when she was about to reach him, she was dragged to the top once more. Nevertheless, Faye kept running, again and again, and every single time was dragged away by an unknowing force. Faye was back at the top of the hill, again.

Her heart sank. Faye couched down, not caring about the damp, dirty ground.

A gunshot induced chaos in the calm and quiet forest.

Through blurry vision, she jerked her head, back to the scene. She had to watch it. At least she should remember him.

A gentle man with a sad soul.

His name was Jake.

His hair was black.

He would call people by their full names and can be really stubborn at times.

Used outdated emojis.

Would get jealous if Phil talked to her.

He would decide everything one-handed if it concerned her safety. Would be slightly annoyed at her sometimes. Would blush at her flirty words from the other side of the screen.

After hesitating for so long, he finally confessed. Said that he was at her mercy.   

He loved her dearly.

She was loved…was loved immensely.

His love for her was so immense that it was heartbreaking.

She wept, staring at the bloody mess. Her voice rang throughout the quiet forest.

What use did it have now?

She lost him anyway…

A familiar ceiling welcomed her, as the burning eyes opened. Faye raised her stiffened body up and roughly wiped away the teary mess with trembling hands.

Sighing, Faye checked her phone. 3.37 am. What an idle time to wake up from a horrible nightmare…

Checking on the date, Faye counted, still in a daze from the shock. It has been two years, ten months and thirteen days since that day.

But Jake didn't die.

Faye was sure of it.

Jake promised that they won't be separated. And she believed him.

Honestly. How foolish Faye was…

-To be Continued.

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

Birthday

Summary: could you do a hs losers x reader where the readers new to town and hates her bday bc each year her past friends and family had always forgotten or did nothing so when richie finds out her bdays coming up he tells the losers and they all plan a special surprise party and richie saves up and gets her something super special and the losers r all like wow he’s never gotten anyone anything like this b4 so she finds out that he likes her or something so it’s like the best bday she’s ever had

Richie bikes swiftly passed you, faster than he usually does, which can only mean he’s trying to surpass you. You barely refrain from flipping him the bird in public, as you too throw your weight into peddling. It’s no use, Richie is more athletic than you by a long shot, and he’s been practicing with Eddie for track. You’ll never be able to catch up with him with no viable effort.

‘You asshole,’ you yell out to him, noticing an elder woman pledging through her yard too late to stop your exclamation. She regards the both of you with malcontent, stabbing her hark too brutally in the soil of her allotment for it to be a coincidence.

‘Not my fault your short legs can’t reach the peddles.’

You growl, lifting up from your saddle to race faster, but Richie sees you do it and does nothing but laugh.

Any other time you might give him hell for it, but today, you are in no mood to indulge in Richie’s escapades.

It’s your birthday, and while for most that equalizes a fun day stacked with presents and cake, to you it stands for a day full of misery.

Your birthday is cursed. And no, that is not you being dramatic. At your ninth birthday, your cake got slammed into floor, therefor ruing the gift your parents had been working on for weeks, and which was their only present.

At age ten, you fell off your brand new bike into a ravine and had to go to the hospital to get eleven stitches. On your fourteenth birthday, you and your parents got into such a huge fight they send you up to your room and forbad you from sneaking down at any point in the day.

There are more examples to back up your claim for the terrible birthdays, but you have tried to desperately block them all out, so you won’t rehash them.

That’s why your so peeved that Richie is forcing you to the quarry.

‘If you could tell me where I’m supposed to be going to bet u could find a short cut and be there faster than you.’

‘Nice try Dora, I’m not telling you anything. It’s a surprise.’

‘Alright, I get two attempts. If I can’t guess where we’re going, I’ll do your homework for a week.’

‘And if you do guess it?’

‘Then you owe me a favor and no matter for what reason I cash it in, you don’t get to complain.’

‘Fine, bring it miss know it all.’ Richie slows down to slide next to you, the wind picking up as the two of you descend down the mountain. His smile is mischievous and cheeky, probably too confident to think you’ll be able to reckon the spot he has in mind.

If only he knew that you had limited the possibilities to two places, the exact amount of guess you were granted.

‘Hm, are we going to the arcade?’ Your first theory is. Richie doesn’t have anything on him right now, except pennies that have been rinkeling inside his pockets the entire bike ride, the only thing he needs to go to the arcade.

Richie smirks, and shakes his head. ‘Try one my dear, may I say that the odds aren’t in your favor right now?’

His impressive ego in the way he taunts you with the right answer fuels your desire to be right. ‘Are we going to the Barrens?’ You sing, smiling wide as Richie’s shrinks.

‘Eh, no?’ He says, but he sounds petulant. ‘Fuck this shit, what gave it away?’

‘A girl never reveals her secrets’, you say covertly, forgetting momentarily about the agitating day. You suspect that might have been Richie’s intention.

It’s not like the Barrens is such a stretch in the first place, the losers and you have made that place your own, but you do hypothesize that he may have planned something special for you.

Your theory turns out to be true, as you can spot a long table at the end of the dirt path you and Richie are currently riding on to get to the clubhouse. The table is stacked with a variety of candies, your favorite, drinks that are sweet enough to rot your teeth, something Richie should be more aware off - having a dad who is a dentist-, and a giant cake with eight candles on. Each one representing a loser.

You say nothing as you approach, in a sneaky way torturing Richie a bit more before revealing that you’re at the verge of tears of this nice gesture. Richie slows down his speed by dragging his shoes along the dirt, glances darting nervously towards your face.

‘I know you said no parties, but how else was I supposed to show off my rocking dance moves?’

‘Do you mean the moves you make that look like you’re dying?’ Stan chides, him and the rest of the losers rolling up behind you two. They’re all walking next to their bikes, and Bill’s hands are smudges with cake residue he somehow missed while cleaning up. They didn’t want to be here before you and ruin the ‘surprise’, but it’s clear everyone has worked hard to organize this for you.

‘Fuck you Stan the man, the color green doesn’t fit you.’

‘Happy’, Bev grounds out, leveling Richie with one look, the way only Bev can, and then address you. ‘Birthday.’ She hugs you despite you still holding your bike, and you let it clatter to the ground with a loud bang.

‘Thanks Bev.’

‘Happy Birthday’, the other losers also call out, because there’s just too many of them for each to wait their turn.

‘We hope you don’t mind we don’t have any presents, we spend basically all of it getting ingredients for the cake, which we had to redo- twice.’

They don’t offer any other explanation about why the cake had to be remade two times, but by Eddie’s scowl you can fill in the blanks.

‘No, honestly, this is already too much.’ It is too much, but their efforts are so kind and heartwarming that you have to bit back a happy squall. No one has ever bothered to organize anything for your birthday, whether it be purchasing a two dollar present or even ordering a cake, but these people that you had met less then a year ago were willing to scramble together all the money they could, just so they could turn your day special. Thank god for moving to Derry.

For the first time in years, your birthday has brought smiles and laughter, and no tears and weeping moods.

‘Nonsense my dearest young lady, this is but a blip on our radar, a speck of dust on the tv, nothing compared too-‘

‘Can we please cut the cake now? Before something else goes wrong with it?’ Eddie glowers, refuting to wait for an affirmative.

‘Don’t forget the candles,’ Ben says as he follows Eddie to the table. You’re about to join them, when a hand on your wrists stops you.

‘Hey, Y/N? You really don’t mind this right? I know you said you didn’t want anything but I know how nice it is be caught off guard with something like this.’ Richie rubs the back of his head as if that makes him see any less anxious. It’s incredible how smart someone can be while simultaneously also being so dense.

‘Richie’, you say as you smile, unable to hide it any longer. ‘It’s amazing, thank you so much. If there is any way I can repay you I’ll do that. I’m really happy with this.’

‘That’s good, not that I was worried about it, who isn’t a fan of everything I do?’

Rolling your eyes only spurs Richie on, but it’s become an automatic response now, you can’t help but do it.

‘Oh, I almost forgot. I did get you another gift. Two actually, if you count my huge dong as one.’

‘Gross Richie, why do you always have to add something sexual to everything?’

‘It’s my game babe, love it or leave it. Anyway, here is the gift if you want it. If you don’t that’s fine too.’

‘Don’t get all shy on me now Rich’, you tease as your bump your arm into his while grabbing the package. ‘I’ve just gotten used to your antics.’

The package isn’t heavy, but it also isn’t light. It’s wrapped in enough layer that you can’t feel what’s inside of it just by holding it, but that was probably Richie’s intention. That or he is simply horrible at wrapping up.

While you carefully peel off each layer, you begin to speculate on what it could be. It could be a gag gift, but Richie looked sincere, and his eyes behind his glasses are magnified in true anticipation, a gag gift wouldn’t illicit that response.

As soon as the final layer is detached, you gasp, armored by the actual gift. It’s a blue bracelet, covered in butterfly pattering. You once mentioned having a similar one as a kid that you loved but lost one day while playing outside and had been sad about for weeks.

You can’t believe Richie had kept it in his mind, and had gone out to look for it.

‘Richie… I don’t even know what to say right now.’ You exclaim, squeezing the bracelet in your hand tightly, a blush covering your face. Richie’s mimics yours. ‘Thank you’, you say while reaching out to him and kissing him on the cheek. Richie face burns a brighter red.

‘Yeah… glad to be of service.’ His mind is ball parks away, and he is left dazed.

‘Come on Y/N, it’s time for you to blow out the candles.’

You go easily, letting your hand linger around Richie’s, deciding mentally that you’ll do it tonight before you go home. Your birthday has already been better than anything you could have imagined, and maybe it has one more miracle left to give. If Richie says yes to your question about going on a date, then this will truly have been the best birthday you have every had. By the love struck expression Richie is walking around with, you have an inkling as to what his response might be.

You blow out your candles, but you don’t need to make a wish. You already have everything you could possibly want.

----

‘Off course that asshole buys her a gift, but never returns the money I loaned him so long ago. I’m not a fucking bank.’

‘I think it’s cute.’

‘No, Eddie is right, I’m also waiting on my refund.’

‘It’s adorable he bought her something, he really can’t hide his crush anymore.’

[grapesodatozier]

Anything You Want

a fic for @heterophobicrichietozier !! thank you so much for requesting this fic!!

rating: explicit

words: 7.5k

tags/warnings: sugar daddy au, domtop!richie, subbottom!eddie, daddy kink, age gap, marking (hickeys), degradation and praise, porn with feelings, mentions of sonia’s abuse

notsfw below the cut!!

Eddie Kaspbrak was running short on both money and patience. He was only just over a month into his second year of nursing school, and he was already struggling to pay his rent. And sure, rent in New York City was never easy to pay, but he’d been saving, he’d had a plan. The problem was that pretty much all of his money had unexpectedly gone toward his tuition when his mother had refused to pay for a second year at school.

At eighteen, Eddie had left his small hometown in Maine and moved to New York City to start college. He had just barely convinced his mother to let him go, and to help with his tuition as long as he covered his own rent. He was required to call her four nights a week, and he had to go back on the “medicines” he’d disavowed around age fifteen (all of which he routinely flushed down the toilet), but the physical distance had been amazing—at first. Soon, though, it wasn’t enough, and his mom started demanding he call her every night, accusing him of being reckless and taking advantage of her. When he’d told her he wasn’t coming home for the summer, she’d exploded into hysterics, crying and telling him he had to come home. It was when she began rambling on about how Eddie was probably running around with dirty New York City girls and catching all sorts of horrific sexual diseases, demanding that he come home so that she could keep an eye on him and find him a nice girl when she decided he was ready for one, that Eddie had snapped. Though it had been the result of years of pent up frustration and rage, he had stayed calm as he told her that he wasn’t missing her calls because of girls, but because of guys—because he spent his weekends getting fucked by men. “Sorry Ma,” he’d said, his voice cool as steel and even as could be, “but I can’t really pick up the phone when I’ve got some guy’s cock inside of me.” It wasn’t exactly the coming out his friends Bill, Ben, and Mike had been gently running by him, but he was angry, and it had felt good; he figured she’d have had the same reaction no matter how he said it, so what the hell, right?

Still, it stung when she’d told him she wasn’t paying for his college anymore. He hadn’t really believed her at first, as she was still hounding him about his sins and how he needed to come home, but sure enough, when emails about tuition began rolling around, they all went to his school email and explained that his name was the only one on his account, that his mother had bestowed the loans onto him and given up the account. Eddie nearly vomited when he’d received that email. As soon as the room stopped spinning, he blocked his mother’s number.

He already had a job for the summer tied down, but it was just an internship level position filing in a medical office, and it was only four days a week; there was no way it would cover tuition and rent and food, among other expenses. So he was forced to take on a second job as a waiter at a new restaurant a few blocks away from his apartment, then a third job working at a mechanic shop on Fridays and Saturdays. On top of all of that work, he had to completely redo his FAFSA and reapply for loans given his new financial circumstances. His school and the government did give him a bit more, but not enough to drop any of his jobs. 

By the time classes rolled around, he had paid his tuition for the semester, but he’d had to dip into money he’d been saving for rent. Now, in early October, he was still working Fridays and Saturdays at the garage and was waiting tables Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays. He had a night shift shadowing a nurse on Tuesdays, which left Thursdays and Sundays as his only free nights, nights which he largely spent doing homework. All of this work, and he had still been eating Cup Noodles for the past two weeks.

It was a Friday night, and everything had been going wrong. In the middle of his shift at the garage, he’d gotten a notification from his school’s site informing him that he’d gotten a C on his most recent test, one he’d lost sleep over studying. Then work at the garage had run over and he barely had time to eat dinner before making it to the restaurant in time. He was tired and upset and feeling badly about himself, not to mention missing a party all of his friends were going to, so all it took was one baby boomer yelling at him over a mixed up order for him to excuse himself to the back room and start bawling. Thankfully, his manager seemed to be understanding and let him cool off. “I’ll take that table until they leave,” she told him, to his immense relief and gratitude. By the time she came back to check on him he had calmed down considerably and was staring into the mirror in the break room trying fruitlessly to pat down the puffiness around his eyes, trying to will away the redness that lingered. “Hey,” his manager said, “you wanna take table four?” Eddie sighed and nodded, trying out a smile. “Atta boy.”

He took a deep, steadying breath before heading out for his new table. His eyes fell on a table of three: a woman with dark red curls that fell to her shoulders, a man with truly impeccable posture, and the hottest man Eddie had ever seen in his life. And he was unabashedly looking Eddie up and down from behind a pair of thick rimmed glasses as he approached. “Hi!” Eddie greeted them, his big, bright customer service smile finding its way onto his face like it was possessing him. “I’m Eddie, and I’ll be your server tonight. Can I get you guys started with some drinks?”

“You got me started already,” the hot guy said. Then, meeting Eddie’s eyes, his brow furrowed. “Have you been crying?”

Luckily, Eddie didn’t have to respond to that, as the guy’s much more refined friend chimed in, “I’ll have a gin and tonic, please,” just as the redheaded woman was letting out an exasperated, “Richie, oh my god.” 

“One gin and tonic,” Eddie smiled, his cheeks burning. “Anything else?”

“Could I have a martini, please?” the woman smiled kindly up at him.

“Martini, got it.” As he jotted it down, he prepared himself to face the hot guy—Richie, apparently. When he did, he was struck by the depth of his blue eyes. He was surprised by how warm they were, and they glittered as he smiled up at Eddie. “And for you?” 

“What do you like?” 

“Oh, I’m not old enough to drink,” Eddie flushed, letting out a small laugh. With a joking smile, he added, “The Shirley Temples are great, though.”

Richie laughed, his eyes never leaving Eddie. “A Shirley Temple it is.” 

Eddie’s gaze didn’t waver either, and he put on his best innocent, big-brown-eyes look as he asked, “Virgin or dirty?” He had to fight back a smirk when he saw Richie’s eyes darken.

“Dirty.” The way he said it sent a thrill down Eddie’s spine. “Pretty please, with three cherries on top.”

“You got it,” Eddie said with a wink. Though the day was still weighing on him, he was beginning to feel better already. He might have even swayed his hips a little more than necessary as he walked away. He told himself it was because he could tell this Richie guy was into him, so he was aiming for a nice tip, but really Eddie loved the attention itself. With his schedule, he no longer had time for the hookups he spent his freshman year indulging in. So he couldn’t be blamed for preening under the attention of a hot older guy. Honestly, it was the pick me up he’d been needing for months.

The night went on, all three of them being incredibly kind to him, with Richie throwing in not at all subtle flirtations any chance he got. Eddie didn’t miss the three knotted cherry stems on Richie’s napkin when he brought their food and offered to refill their drinks.

He was almost sad to see Richie go, but he was grateful for the small smile he had on his face as he went to collect his tip and clear the table. At first he went to simply slip the cash into his pocket, but then he realized there was a note on the napkin beneath it: a name, Richie Tozier, with a phone number under it. It was then that Eddie realized he was holding five hundred dollars in his hand. He quickly stuffed it in his pocket, an embarrassed flush running from his ears down his chest as he hurried to clear the dirty dishes and bring them back to the kitchen.

The cash burned a hole in his pocket all night, all the way home. What the fuck? he thought to himself. Because seriously, who leaves a five hundred dollar tip on a meal that was barely over a hundred? Eddie locked his apartment door and placed the money on his dresser, staring at it. Five one hundred dollar bills. Who carried that around? What if they were counterfeit? Eddie pulled out the napkin and studied that as well, deciding to Google the name Richie Tozier. His jaw dropped when he did. There his face was, with his big glasses, cocky smile, and fluffy, dark curls. Apparently the guy was on SNL and had two Netflix comedy specials. He was also twenty-eight, nearly ten years older than Eddie. His net worth? Five million dollars.

Eddie sat down on his bed, his mind spinning. The place Eddie worked was nice enough, but it wasn’t exactly frequented by millionaires. Still in his work clothes, he dialed the number, figuring there was no way it would go through.

He picked up on the third ring.

“Hello?”

It was his voice. “What the fuck?” Eddie blurted out.

He heard a bright laugh on the other end. “Is this Eddie?”

“Yeah, it is, and seriously, what the hell? Five hundred dollars?”

“You looked upset,” Richie said. He sounded like he was trying to be nonchalant about it, but his voice had softened noticeably. 

“So you gave a stranger five hundred dollars?” Eddie was honestly more confused than upset. Sure, maybe his pride was a little bruised, but to be honest he was touched. And kind of turned on. 

“Just redistributing my wealth,” Richie joked. “I’ve got more than I know what to do with, so I figured giving it to a pretty boy who was having a bad day was a pretty good way to spend it.” Eddie flushed at that—pretty boy. The way Richie said it, so casually, yet with a joking tone that made it almost teasing, had Eddie’s pants getting tight. When Eddie stayed silent, Richie continued, “There’s more for you where that came from, if you’re interested.”

“What?” Eddie said, blood rushing in his ears. Was this guy serious? Was this actually happening?

“I’d be happy to help you out if you need it. A college kid like you should be partying on a Saturday night, or taking a fucking nap, not crying at a minimum wage job.”

“Like a sugar daddy?”

Richie laughed. Eddie loved the sound of it. “Yeah, like a sugar daddy, baby.” The pet name made Eddie shudder, made him feel like he was glowing. But still, he didn’t want this guy getting ideas. 

“I’m not gonna have sex with you.” Even as he said it, his cock was hard, and the memory of the way Richie had been flirting with him made his skin hot. But he wanted to make explicitly clear that he wasn’t into selling himself.

“That’s not why I’m offering. Seriously, I just wanna help you out. And sure, maybe you’re ridiculously cute, and maybe I want to get to know you, but mostly I wanna help you out. Pay for your rent, give you time to study and party and be a college student.”

And how could Eddie turn that down? As much as he was struggling with it, with his pride and the stranger danger anxiety that his mother had ingrained in him, he seriously doubted that a hot millionaire would come around again offering to pay his rent. 

So Eddie agreed, and soon he was sending Richie his Venmo information. Two minutes later his phone screen glowed with a notification: Richie Tozier sent you $2,000. 

It had been hard to get used to at first, but cutting his work schedule down to just Monday and Wednesday nights at the restaurant and just Friday afternoons at the garage felt amazing. He finally felt rested, could finally give his schoolwork the attention it needed.

“You know, you really don’t need to work at all if you don’t want to,” Richie told him one night when they were having dinner together.

“I know,” Eddie said to his food, “but I like the independence of it. And working with cars calms me down, it makes sense to me.” He didn’t mention the real reason he kept both jobs: the big Just In Case that loomed over him. This seemed like a fairy tale situation, like an extended, intricate prank, and he was terrified that something would go wrong. He wanted to be prepared if Richie suddenly pulled out for some reason.

However, as the months passed it became pretty clear that even without sex Richie wasn’t going anywhere. And that started complicating things.

It was late in December, which meant finals and holidays, which meant lots of stress. It was the first Christmas Eddie wouldn’t be spending at home, and that made him feel sad in a way he didn’t understand; he was incredibly happy to be free of his mother, but there was something so final about it. He supposed it was still a loss, even if it was a welcome one. On top of that, his days were plagued by the anxiety that she might get a new number, might start calling him again, might show up at his door and whisk him back to Maine. So it was just negativity on top of worrying on top of sadness. Under all this stress, he found himself spending more and more time at Richie’s apartment, more and more time talking to Richie, wanting to get close to him.

So far, things had been pretty professional. They got meals together once or twice a week, often in Richie’s apartment due to fans of his popping up everywhere wanting pictures. Mostly they hung out because Eddie liked it; Richie was always reminding Eddie that he didn’t owe Richie anything, but Eddie genuinely liked his company. 

Also, he was still ridiculously hot, and he fawned over Eddie like he was the one getting paid. 

Seriously, Richie was so amazing to him, it wasn’t just the money. When someone at work pissed him off, Richie put on one of Eddie’s favorite shows and offered to hire some people to beat up whatever asshole customer had yelled at him. When Eddie complained that the construction outside his apartment was affecting his studying, Richie let him study in his apartment, and even brought him hot chocolate and rubbed his shoulders.

Now it was a Thursday, and Eddie had finished his last final. He had just gotten home from saying goodbye to Bill, Mike, and Ben for winter break when Richie called. Like always, the loneliness that was threatening to creep over him began to ebb as soon as he heard Richie’s voice. “Hey! How’d your test go? We still on for dinner to celebrate?”

Eddie appreciated the offer, but a fancy dinner wasn’t what he wanted just then. “Can we do dinner at your place tonight?” he asked, his voice worn and small.

“Of course, anything you want.”

Richie’s driver picked Eddie up, so he didn’t actually see Richie until he was knocking at his door and falling into his arms. Richie, with his roughly nine or ten inch height advantage over Eddie, easily scooped him up and brought him to the couch. “So would it be tone deaf of me to ask how the exam went?” Richie grinned, settling down with Eddie resting against him. Eddie tucked his feet under his legs as he leaned into Richie’s embrace, finding the relief he’d been needing all day once Richie’s arms were around him.

“The exam went okay,” he sighed. “But Bill, Ben, and Mike all went home today, and I won’t see them for like a month.” 

Richie shifted so he was leaning against the arm of the couch, facing Eddie. Eddie naturally moved closer, like a magnet was pulling him toward Richie, and he ended up practically in Richie’s lap. He let out a small, happy sigh as Richie stroked his hair. “I could send you on a trip somewhere, take your mind off of it.”

But it wasn’t just the location that was the problem. Sure, he wanted something to do, but mostly he wanted someone to do things with. A specific someone, if he was being honest with himself. 

Eddie looked down and ran his hand lightly over the stitching on the pocket of Richie’s button up. It was covered in a Pac-Man pattern, but Eddie knew it was more formal than his normal look. The idea that Richie had dressed up somewhat for dinner with him made him smile. And it should have calmed him down as he prepared to ask Richie his next question, but his heart was still racing as he took a deep breath and looked up into Richie’s eyes. “Will you come with me?”

Richie’s eyes widened just barely before a smile broke across his face. “You thought I’d miss out on buying you souvenirs?” 

Eddie beamed. Richie looked so beautiful when he smiled, and his hand was a comforting weight on Eddie’s hip. The thought of travelling with Richie, of sharing a hotel room with him—sharing a bed with him—made Eddie glow. “Did you have any destination in mind?” he asked.

“Anywhere you want.” 

Richie’s voice was soft and low, Eddie felt like he could melt into it. He ran his hand up Richie’s chest, cupped his cheek, and watched Richie’s eyes dart over Eddie’s face, clearly trying to get a read on the situation. Eddie had been thinking about crossing this line for a while. He’d been holding back for months, and as the months moved by, his hang ups had begun to feel less and less important. Sure, the money made things different. But, did it have to? Did it really? Richie was here. Richie was holding him without expectation. As Eddie watched Richie lick his lips, as he felt Richie’s hands on him, he couldn’t remember a single reason he’d come up with to not dive headfirst into what they both so clearly wanted, what they had both wanted since the moment their eyes met for the first time. 

So he leaned in, the tension that had been building for months coming to a head and taking his breath away. But just as their lips were about to come together, Richie murmured a soft, reserved, “Eddie.” Eddie’s heart caught at his tone, and he pulled back a bit, trying to figure out what was going wrong. “You know you don’t have to do that.”

“I want to do it,” Eddie huffed. He was pouting now, and moving to straddle Richie’s hips. “I want you, so bad. I’ve wanted you ever since I met you.” He took Richie’s hand in his and kissed his knuckles. “No one’s ever treated me as well as you do. The way you take care of me, the way you look at me... I’ve never wanted someone this bad before.”

Richie studied Eddie’s face, his eyes softening, darkening. He unfurled his fist and held Eddie’s jaw in his hand, ran his thumb over Eddie’s lower lip. “Fuck, you deserve the world, angel.” Eddie flushed at that. His heart was racing at the light, teasing way Richie pressed down on his lip. Just as he was about to wrap his lips around Richie’s thumb, Richie slid his hand into Eddie’s hair, holding it noticeably tighter than he normally would. “Tell me what you want, baby.” His voice was low and rough in a way that made Eddie wish he would just bend him over and fuck him senseless already.

But Eddie didn’t mind being coy, didn’t mind pulling the tension as tight as it would go, seeing how much he could tease before Richie snapped and took him the way Eddie wanted him to. “I want you to kiss me.” His nose was bumping against Richie’s now, and he could feel Richie’s shallow breath on his lips. Richie’s eyes were dark and didn’t move from Eddie’s face. Eddie took Richie’s hand and guided it from his waist to his hip, just barely on his ass. Biting his lip, he whispered, “I want you to fuck me, so bad.” He put on a pout and continued, “I fuck all these college guys, but none of them are you. They aren’t as tall as you, their hands aren’t as big as yours.” Eddie watched Richie’s jaw clench. “They can’t fuck me the way I know you could.”

“Fuck, baby,” Richie nearly growled. Eddie gasped when Richie grabbed his ass, hard, and tugged his head back. “Did you think about me while they fucked you?” he whispered in Eddie’s ear, his warm breath sending a shiver through Eddie.

“Every time,” Eddie said, gripping Richie’s shirt in his hands. “Wanted it to be you so bad.” 

Richie nuzzled against Eddie’s neck, still not kissing him, still making him wait while he groped his ass. “I know, baby. You needed more, huh? You need your daddy to take care of you.” 

Eddie let out a surprised little noise of pleasure. No one had ever said that to him before. He wasn’t expecting it, and he certainly wasn’t expecting how much he would like it. It made him so hard he got dizzy, completely pliant in Richie’s arms. “Yes,” he breathed, already pathetically desperate. “Yes, daddy, need you so bad, please, please.” 

Richie cursed under his breath and grabbed Eddie by the jaw, pulling him in for a bruising kiss. Eddie couldn’t help but let out a little whimpering moan when he finally, finally felt Richie’s lips against his. They were just as soft as they looked, and so full. As Eddie sank his fingers into Richie’s thick, dark curls, Richie sat up a bit and pulled Eddie closer against him, grabbing him by the hips and pressing their clothed cocks together. Eddie gasped and buried his face in Richie’s shoulder at the feeling. He mouthed at Richie’s neck, moaning at the way Richie smacked his ass. “This is mine, got it?” he said, his voice smooth and low. “None of those little college pricks are allowed to fucking touch you. Understand?”

Eddie moaned at Richie’s sudden possessiveness. All he wanted was to be Richie’s, for Richie to claim him and show him who he belonged to. “Yes, daddy. ‘M all yours, just wanna be yours.”

“Good boy.” He tugged at Eddie’s hair again, pulling his head back so that his neck was exposed. Eddie yelped as Richie licked a stripe up his throat and sunk his teeth into Eddie’s throat, sure to leave a dark bruise. Eddie squirmed in Richie’s lap as he sucked on his neck, hard and intentional. With a final kiss to the bruise, Richie said with a satisfied grin, “Now everyone’s gonna know you’re mine.” He chuckled and nipped at Eddie’s neck again when Eddie moaned. “Yeah, you like that baby? You like when daddy takes what’s his? You want everyone to know what a good little slut you are for your daddy?”

“Yes,” Eddie sighed, already starting to feel like he was floating. After finals and classes and work and months of controlling himself around Richie, this was exactly what he needed. It felt so amazing to just let go and let Richie take control, knowing Richie would take care of him. He couldn’t believe how good this was and none of their clothes had even come off yet. He fumbled with the buttons on Richie’s shirt, but Richie just chuckled and grabbed him by the wrists.

“That’s cute, baby. Daddy decides whose clothes come off and when, yeah?” Eddie whimpered and nodded. Richie slid his hands back under Eddie’s ass and stood then, lifting Eddie up. Eddie instinctively held tight to him, wrapping his legs around Richie’s waist and his arms around his neck. Richie kissed Eddie’s hair as he walked them to the bedroom. “Just let me take care of you, sweetheart.” Eddie’s heart soared as Richie sat him down on the edge of the huge bed, the duvet soft and cool under him. His legs dangled off the side. Richie’s eyes softened as he stroked Eddie’s hair. “You doing okay?” he checked.

“So good,” Eddie nodded enthusiastically, his hands fisted in Richie’s shirt.

Richie leaned down and kissed Eddie’s forehead, and by the time he straightened up again that look that made Eddie shiver was back on his face. Still cradling Eddie’s face, he asked, “Can I get a little rough with you, baby?” 

Eddie’s eyes widened. “Please,” he moaned.

A dark, mischievous grin pulled at Richie’s full, dark pink lips. “That’s a good boy,” he said with a kiss to Eddie’s jaw. “Arms up.” Eddie quickly did as he was told, eager for Richie to strip his shirt off for him. “Fuck, baby,” Richie groaned as he tossed Eddie’s shirt aside. He ran his hands up Eddie’s sides and teased his thumbs over Eddie’s hardened nipples, making him gasp and grab at the sheets. Richie’s hands looked even bigger wrapped around Eddie’s ribs. It made him press his legs together, his cock throbbing desperately in his jeans. “Aw, you don’t need to be shy, kitten,” Richie cooed, forcing one of his legs between Eddie’s and pressing his thigh against Eddie’s crotch. Eddie moaned at the contact and desperately started grinding against Richie’s leg. “Fuck, you look so pretty grinding on me like that. Think you could come like this?” Richie pressed his thigh harder against Eddie’s cock. “Think I could make you come in your pants?” Eddie cried out as Richie pinched his nipples. 

“God, yes,” Eddie moaned, rolling his hips. And he could, he could feel the pleasure building and building. But just as his moans were getting breathier, just as he was really desperately rutting against Richie’s leg, Richie pulled away and tugged Eddie up by his belt loops so quickly Eddie got dizzy and fell into Richie’s solid chest. “Wh-what,” he pouted, looking up at Richie, who was smirking at him.

“Aw, baby, we’re just getting started.” Still dazed and whimpering and achingly hard, Eddie held onto Richie as he undid Eddie’s jeans. Richie then dropped to his knees to pull them off. He helped Eddie step out of his jeans, running his hands reverently over Eddie’s legs as he did so. “Oh, sweetheart, you’ve been keeping these thighs from me for months?” Richie kissed them, making Eddie quiver and flush. “Fucking tease,” he murmured into Eddie’s skin before biting down hard on the inside of Eddie’s thigh. Eddie cried out and grabbed at the bed for support. “Look at these fuckin’ things, you basically wore panties for me.” Eddie gasped as Richie playfully tugged at Eddie’s light pink, silky briefs with his teeth. He’d mostly worn them to feel confident during his exam, but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought of Richie when putting them on, or if he said he hadn’t bought them with money Richie gave him. Eddie leaned back as Richie spread his legs, lifting one up to get a better angle to suck marks into Eddie’s skin. The sight of Richie’s head between Eddie’s thighs, combined with the knowledge that his thighs would be covered in bruises by the end of the night, had a wet spot forming on the front of Eddie’s briefs. Richie nuzzled his face into the soft material, just barely grazing Eddie’s cock. He looked up at Eddie, his blue eyes nearly totally eclipsed. “Did you buy these with daddy’s money, baby?” Eddie nodded, blushing. Richie smirked at him. “Is this how you spend your allowance? On slutty little panties?” Eddie moaned at that and grabbed at Richie’s hair, rolling his hips forward and meeting only air. Richie chuckled. The condescension of it went straight to Eddie’s cock, which visibly twitched in his tight little briefs. “Aw, you like being called a slut, don’t you? You like it when I call you out on being a spoiled little cocktease?” Eddie yelped when Richie bit down on the inside of his other thigh.

“Daddy, please,” he whimpered. “Need you.”

For a moment Richie just hummed and kept sucking marks into his skin. But then, finally, he dragged Eddie’s briefs down and off his legs, leaving him fully exposed. Before Eddie could process what was happening, Richie was standing and spinning Eddie around and bending him over the bed, his face pressed into the mattress as his feet once again dangled over the floor. He let out a broken little moan as he felt Richie pull his cheeks apart and run his tongue over Eddie’s hole. After Richie had set a rhythm, lulling Eddie into a pleasured haze, he suddenly felt Richie’s hand come down on his ass. He moaned at the feeling, the slight pain that left an amazing stinging sensation in its wake. “God, you make the prettiest fucking noises,” Richie groaned, once again lapping his tongue over Eddie’s hole. He circled the ring of muscle a few times before pulling back. Eddie was just about to push his hips back when he felt Richie spank him again, harder this time, then felt him spit on his hole. Eddie let out a long moan; it was degrading and possessive in the best way. Eddie tried to rut against the bed, to relieve some of the desperate need that had his cock throbbing, but he couldn’t really do it with the way his feet were hanging off the bed. He heard Richie laugh behind him as he spanked him again. “Aw, you like that, baby? You like when daddy spits on you?” 

Eddie let out a muffled, pathetic little, “Yes.”

“I know, it feels good, doesn’t it? Bet you wish you could get off right now.” Eddie’s desperate writhing was confirmation of that. “Don’t worry, kitten, daddy’s gonna fucking take you apart.” Eddie gasped as he felt Richie slide his tongue inside of him, setting a rhythm of fucking and swirling and teasing that had Eddie squirming. He rocked his hips back, letting his mind go fuzzy from the pleasure until suddenly Richie was pulling out and lifting Eddie up again. As disappointed as Eddie was to have Richie’s tongue no longer in his ass, he was more than happy to let Richie toss him around and lay him on his back, his head falling against the luxuriantly soft pillows. He felt so small in Richie’s bed, felt so vulnerable under his gaze—he loved it. Richie ran his hand all the way from Eddie’s throat down to his hip, taking his time before squeezing Eddie’s hip hard. “God, you look so fucking good like this, baby.” He made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, shrugging it off and tossing it aside.

Eddie let out an involuntary little moaned, “Fuck,” at the sight of Richie’s bare chest. He sat up and ran his hand over Richie’s soft, pale skin, admiring his freckles and the slight muscle definition. His shoulders looked somehow even broader now as Eddie traced his fingers over them. Richie only humored him for a moment before pressing Eddie back down and kissing him, deep and just the right amount of forceful. 

Richie’s hands roamed all over Eddie’s body. “God, you’re such a pretty little boy, baby. Can’t wait to see what you look like when you’re getting fucked.” Richie bit down on Eddie’s lip, sending a thrill of pleasure through his body. “I don’t want you fucking leaving this bed for the next week, gonna bring you everything you need. Gonna fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk, and then I’m gonna do it again, and again.” Eddie moaned as he felt Richie’s finger circling his slick hole. “Gonna keep you nice and full of my cock whenever I can, gonna take such good care of you. You won’t need to worry about anything, gonna be my pretty little pillow princess. You just lie there and be a good little cocksleeve and daddy will take care of everything else.” Eddie preened at the thought of Richie fawning over him, of Richie doing everything for him so that all he had to do was lie back and take Richie’s cock. It had him squirming under Richie as he grabbed at Eddie wherever he could reach, surely leaving handprints all over Eddie’s body as he glided his tongue over Eddie’s. “Can’t wait to get my cock inside you, baby.” Richie sat back on his heels then and eyed Eddie’s hole, rubbing at it teasingly.

“Please,” Eddie moaned, trying to rock his hips onto Richie’s finger.

“Shh, baby, soon,” Richie soothed, leaning over to kiss Eddie again before reaching into his bedside table. He pulled out a bottle of lube and covered his fingers in it. Eddie moaned at the sight; he didn’t think a day had gone by where he hadn’t thought of Richie’s fingers since the first time they met. They were so long, and he could only imagine how amazing they would feel inside of him, fucking him, stretching him open. Richie chuckled when Eddie instinctively opened his legs. “I know, sweetheart, I know.” He tossed the lube aside and ran his clean hand over Eddie’s thigh, holding him still before slowly sliding a slick finger inside of him. 

Eddie gasped and threw his head back; one of Richie’s fingers felt like two of his own and reached deeper than he ever could have by himself. “Fuck,” he cried, “your fingers are so big, oh my god.” 

“Yeah?” Richie grinned, cocky and dark. As he slowly began sliding his finger in and out of Eddie, he slid his other hand up his chest until he was cradling his jaw and running the pad of his thumb teasingly over Eddie’s lips. “One finger and you’re already a mess, huh? You like the way I fill you up, baby?” Eddie moaned as Richie slid his thumb into Eddie’s mouth, effectively silencing any response Eddie could’ve made. He let out a contented hum and eagerly sucked on Richie’s finger, holding onto Richie’s forearm with both of his hands as he bobbed his head. “Fuck, that’s it, baby. Such a good little slut for daddy.” Eddie moaned again, rocking his hips as Richie began to finger him faster. Eddie cried out as Richie thrust deep inside of him, making him see stars. “Yeah, you like how deep I can get inside you, baby?” Eddie nodded. “I fucking love it too, angel. You’re so tight, so small and sweet.” He slid his thumb out of Eddie’s mouth and pressed his palm to Eddie’s throat. Eddie’s eyes widened for a moment, and he tilted his head back, giving Richie better access. Richie pressed down slightly under Eddie’s jaw on either side of his throat, moaning at the blissed out smile that graced Eddie’s face. Richie only pressed down a bit, only for a few moments at a time, just enough to get Eddie’s cock leaking all over himself. He let out breathy little moans as Richie finger fucked him, the wet sounds filling the room.

“Daddy,” Eddie moaned. He met Richie’s eyes as he begged. “Please, please, fuck me, daddy, want your cock so bad.”

“Oh, sweetheart, that’s cute” Richie grinned, his voice low and condescending in a way that made Eddie’s cock throb. “I need to open you up a little more before you’re ready for my cock.” As he said it, he pressed another slick finger inside of Eddie, stretching him out. Eddie felt so full already from just two of Richie’s fingers; his cock ached at the thought of how big Richie’s cock would feel inside of him. 

Eddie was pulled out of his thoughts as Richie spit on his chest, sliding his free hand over Eddie’s nipples, getting them nice and wet as he played with them. “Daddy,” Eddie began, but he cut himself off with a scream as Richie curled his fingers inside of him, making electric pleasure shoot through him. He moaned and squirmed and grabbed at Richie’s hair, at the sheets, anything to ground himself as Richie leaned down and sucked on his nipples, still relentlessly fucking Eddie’s hole with his fingers. “Please,” Eddie gasped, “daddy, please.” 

“You sure you’re ready, baby?” Richie teased. 

“Fuck me, please,” he whined, clearly getting impatient. “I can take it!”

“Oh yeah?” Richie asked, pulling his fingers out. He had a look on his face that had Eddie’s blood pounding in excited anticipation. “Okay, baby. If you think you can take it.” He stood up off the bed then, and Eddie sat up a bit to watch. With rapt attention, his eyes followed Richie’s every movement as he dragged his jeans off his legs, then stripped off his boxers.

“God, daddy,” Eddie whimpered, drooling over the sight of Richie’s cock. It was thick and heavy and hard, and so fucking long, Eddie couldn’t believe he’d been keeping himself from a dick like that for months. It was even longer than any of his dildos or vibrators. He needed to feel it down his throat, he needed it.

Seeming to sense this, just as Eddie began to move toward him Richie lightly shoved him back down. “Stay where you are, baby.” Eddie whined but reluctantly complied. The way Richie tauntingly stroked his cock just out of Eddie’s reach had him debating whether it was worth it to be bratty if it meant getting his throat fucked. But his cock was throbbing between his legs, his hole pitifully empty, and watching Richie roll a condom on and lube up his cock made it hard to think about anything other than getting fucked. “Maybe if I’m feeling generous I’ll come on your face,” Richie mused, almost casually as he climbed back onto the bed and spread Eddie’s legs, settling naturally between them. Eddie moaned at his words and melted back into the bed. The sight of Richie above him, the way he touched him, had Eddie completely pliant. He felt warm and buzzy, almost liquid as Richie ran his hand reverently over Eddie’s thigh. As he teased the head of his cock over Eddie’s hole, he took Eddie’s hand in his and entwined their fingers. While Eddie nearly moaned just at that sight alone, at the way Richie’s hand engulfed Eddie’s own, it was also incredibly endearing, and it made something stir in his chest. Guys didn’t normally hold his hand when fucking him, and if they tried it was just weird, as he pretty much only did hookups. But with Richie… it felt different. The way Richie looked at him was different. Like he didn’t want to miss a single thing Eddie did. 

Richie’s voice was low and rich and brought Eddie back as he asked, “Ready?” Eddie bit his lip and nodded. As Richie pressed himself inside of Eddie, careful and slow, Eddie squeezed Richie’s hand. His mouth dropped open in a silent cry as he felt every inch of Richie’s cock filling him up. Once he bottomed out, Richie let out a low groan and rested his forehead against Eddie’s, pressing kisses all over Eddie’s face. 

“Holy… holy shit,” Eddie panted, letting his body adjust. He’d never felt this full before, had never had anything so deep inside of him. “Oh my god.”

Richie chuckled in his ear as he kissed Eddie’s neck. “What’s the matter, kitten?” he teased. 

Eddie couldn’t even be bothered to take the banter bait; everything felt too good, his mind was numb. “You’re so big,” he said dumbly, saying exactly what was on his mind. “No one’s ever been this deep inside me before, holy shit.” 

“I can tell,” Richie hummed. “So fucking tight for me, baby, it’s fucking amazing.” Eddie let out a small whimper as Richie sucked on his neck. “Does it feel good?”

“Yes,” Eddie sighed. “I just, I need just a minute.”

Richie nuzzled his nose against Eddie’s and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “As long as you need.”

As Richie kissed him, sucking gently on his lower lip, Eddie slid his free hand into Richie’s hair, admiring the way his curls felt between his fingers. Then, experimentally, he lifted his legs a bit, pulling them toward himself. They both moaned at the movement, and Eddie felt Richie squeeze his hand. “Oh my god,” Eddie moaned. He grabbed Richie’s face and kissed him desperately, pleading into his lips, “Fuck, I’m ready, please, please fuck me.” 

Richie grabbed him by the hair and held him down, lifting himself up with his other arm. “Yeah?” he said, voice breathy as he pulled his hips back. He looked amazing, dark curls wild as they hung around his face, his blue eyes dark and hungry behind his glasses, his lips slick and red from kissing Eddie. He squeezed Eddie’s hip hard and asked, “You wanna get fucked, sweetheart?”

“Please,” Eddie whined. He hooked his hands under his knees and pulled them up to his chest, spreading them nice and wide for Richie. He watched Richie’s eyes go dark and begged, “Please, need you to fuck me, daddy.”

Richie snapped his hips forward with a sharp, “Fuck,” making Eddie cry out. He pulled his hips back again, until just the tip of his cock was buried inside of Eddie. “Say that again.”

Eddie met Richie’s gaze with glassy eyes and whimpered, “Please, fuck me, daddy.”

Richie cursed again and thrust into Eddie, this time setting a more steady pace. “God, you feel so fucking good on my cock, baby.” Eddie moaned and rocked his hips, his hands falling to grip the sheets beneath him as Richie began fucking him faster, harder. “You look so good like this, so pretty when you’re moaning for my cock.” Eddie flushed; Richie’s words had precome pearling at the head of dick, dripping onto his stomach.

Richie’s thrusts were getting hard enough to rock Eddie’s body back and forth, moving him so easily as Richie fucked him. Eddie loved it, loved how effortlessly Richie could toss him around. He loved hearing Richie moan as he fucked him, loved knowing that Richie felt just as good as he did. He loved the idea of Richie using his body to get himself off. The thought had him letting out little high pitched moans with every thrust. The pleasure left his mind in a haze, and all he could concentrate on was how good Richie’s cock felt inside of him, all he could say was a desperate string of, “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” broken up by wordless moans. 

“Fuck, you take it so well, baby,” Richie praised, running his hand over Eddie’s chest. “So fucking good for me. You like getting fucked like this? You like being all spread out for daddy? Just lying back and taking it while daddy makes you feel good?”

“Yes!” Eddie cried. “Yes, yes, yes, daddy, oh my god, ‘s so good, fuck.” 

“God, you’re so beautiful,” Richie marveled, leaning down to kiss Eddie. The new angle shifted Richie’s hips, and suddenly Eddie was seeing stars, every nerve in his body coming alive and fizzling like a sparkler. He cried out and clutched at Richie, nearly screaming from how amazing it felt.

“Fuck,” he moaned, his voice high and desperate. “Right there, yes, oh my fucking god, don’t stop, please, please, don’t stop.”

“Aw, sweetheart, does that feel good?” Eddie nodded frantically, his moans becoming shouts as Richie’s cock brushed against his prostate over and over, the pleasure so deep and all encompassing. He couldn’t think about anything else, all he knew was that amazing feeling, all he knew was he needed more. He wanted more and more and more, he could feel it building, was vaguely aware of the fact that he was digging his nails into Richie’s back hard enough to leave scratch marks. 

“Daddy,” he slurred, “gonna c-come.”

“Fuck, baby,” Richie groaned. He spit generously into his hand and reached between them to stroke Eddie’s cock. Eddie’s back arched, pressing himself against Richie. The new contact had pleasure rushing through him, and with a few strokes of Richie’s hand on him and a nearly growled, “Come for daddy,” Eddie was coming undone. Pleasure exploded through him, wracked his body as he came all over himself, all over Richie’s hand, Richie fucking into him the whole time. Beyond the noise of his own moans and screams, he could hear Richie cursing under his breath, telling Eddie how good he was doing. 

Eddie panted as he came down, blinking his eyes open slowly. Still buzzing, he watched as Richie carefully pulled out of him and rolled the condom off before leaning further over Eddie. He spit into his hand again and began stroking his own cock, a sight that made Eddie’s spent cock twitch in interest. 

“Open your mouth, baby,” Richie moaned. Eddie happily complied, sticking his tongue out and closing his eyes. Moments later, Richie’s moans were filling the room, as was the slick sound of Richie stroking himself, and Eddie moaned, small and content as he felt Richie’s warm come painting his chest and cheeks and lips. 

He blinked open his eyes once he heard Richie let out a heavy sigh. He looked amazing, sweaty curls clinging to his face, blue eyes hooded as he took in the sight of Eddie beneath him, covered in come. Eddie made sure to meet Richie’s gaze before he swallowed the come on his tongue, then licked more off of his lips. “Fuck, you’re a fucking angel,” Richie grinned. He swiped his fingers over Eddie’s chest, spreading his come over Eddie’s nipple before bringing it to his lips. Eddie hummed happily as he sucked on Richie’s fingers. He still felt like he was floating. Richie leaned down and kissed him, deep and lingering, before saying, “Let’s get you cleaned up, baby, okay?” When Eddie nodded, Richie climbed off the bed and headed for the bathroom. Eddie watched through the open door as Richie waited for the water to warm, then wet a washcloth under it before walking back over to the bed. Eddie preened as Richie cleaned him, pressing soft kisses all over his face as he gently ran the warm washcloth over Eddie’s cheeks and chest and stomach. “That was fucking amazing,” Richie said. Eddie hummed in agreement. He felt like he was glowing when he felt Richie smile against his skin. “You’re so beautiful, Eds. So fucking good for me.” As soon as Eddie was clean and the washcloth was tossed in the hamper, Eddie wrapped his arms around Richie and pulled him down against him, nuzzling into his neck. 

“You’re amazing,” he murmured softly into Richie’s skin. They lay like that for a few minutes, just holding each other and pressing soft kisses against each other’s skin, until Eddie let out a small, “Richie?”

Richie sat up and met his eyes, sensing the shift in his tone. “Yeah?”

“What… what is this? Like what are we, I guess?” he asked, tracing patterns over Richie’s skin with his fingertips.

Richie smiled softly down at him and stroked his cheek. “Same thing it’s always been. Whatever you want.”

Eddie huffed. “What do you want?”

Richie bit his lip, his eyes flickering between Eddie’s. “I want you. All the time. I wanna take you on vacations and buy you gifts and flowers and dinner and watch movies with you. I wanna date you, Eds,” he said with a weak huff of a laugh. “I wanna give you the fucking world.”

Eddie grinned up at him and pulled him down for a kiss. “I wanna date you, too.”

After a few moments of chaste kisses, Richie murmured into his lips, “I also wanna fuck you in every position on every single surface I can think of.” Eddie rolled his eyes and smacked his shoulder, but he was giggling, and he couldn’t say he hadn’t been thinking the same thing.

taglist: @clouded-eyes-and-salty-tears @eddieeatsass @deadlighturis @constantreaderfool @reddieloserz  @thelazyeye @montconde @itfandomprompts @tinyarmedtrex @nancythebisexualslutwheeler @cutedubutokki @losers-gotta-stick-together

[kafka-ish]

coward | s.u.

y/n, bold and beautiful, is now second guessing herself when she finds herself skinny dipping with stan uris 

word count: 2.5k

warnings/included: fluff, steamy-ish, exhibitionism, fem!reader

request: (from anon) “could i have a request where the reader is v v v flirty with stan and one day he says something really dirty even richie's shocked. it’s fine if not.” 

a/n: i accidentally changed it bc i misread ur request im so so sorry !!! also if u noticed i haven’t written in awhile it’s bc my classes started up again so fics may take more time to write/post -- hope u understand <3

-

What came out of y/n’s mouth next truly shocked Stanley.

“Wanna go skinny dipping?” It wasn’t far off from whatever usually spewed from her mouth that she and the rest of the Losers had a hard time controlling.

His mind flashed to all the times y/n’s hand grazed his: the light touches, the silent stares, the whispers that tickled his ears and kissed his brain.

“Next year for Halloween, you should be Stan without a shirt.”  

The hearts she drew on his notebook when he wasn’t looking, the hand she held in hers, the what-are-we’s before giggling in his wonderstruck face that she was joking; it was all a sign of want that he’d been too dense to see before.

“You’re great, you know. Great at being an asshole.”

Sweet, mischievous y/n; always blunt, always careless of what others thought of her. It never occurred to Stan of what she thought of him.

Richie was the first to speak up, Stan still having to catch his breath from the promiscuous words that left her mouth seconds ago. “Sure, toots, I’d love to see what’s under that suit of yours. God, you don’t know how much I hate that thing.” He laughed and Stan wanted to beat the shit-eating grin off his shit-eating friend. His jaw, pronounced and square, tightened and Richie saw. “On second thought, I think someone else would enjoy the view way more.”

Another laugh came from the group, but it wasn’t from Richie. It was y/n’s. The soft giggle leaving her luscious lips did nothing to calm Stan.

“Are you jealous, Stanley?” She asked. A smirk sat on her lips. She only called him by his full name when she teased him.

He definitely felt like he was being thrown a bone only to find out the pitcher never threw one right now.

“Of course not.” Stan gave her the side-eye, readjusting his position from the rock he sat on while doing so. “I can’t think of any situation where I’d be jealous of Richie.”

“Oh yeah?” Richie challenged and Stan squinted at him.

“Yeah.”

“I can think of one—multiple, actually.” Richie wore the same smirk as y/n—only his was less digestible. Maybe it was because y/n was less insufferable to be around, or because she didn’t take a crack at his religion every chance she had, or because her hair was soft and shiny on her head and something Stan wished he could run his hands through. Maybe it was because y/n was a girl, or because she was pretty and the way she batted her eyelashes made him see stars even in the sunlight.

“When?”

Richie leaned in and whispered something that was totally vulgar and jarring to Stan’s ears.

Stan flinched—unsurprised that his friend was ballsy enough to say such a thing, but because what if he had actually thought about doing such a thing?

“Gross, Ruh-Ruh-Richie!” Bill yelled from across the quarry, already knowing what his friend would say.

“Yeah. You’re disgusting,” Eddie said from next to him while he looked up at Bill.

“Ruh-lax. It’s not like it’s something I’m gonna do.” Richie opened a new can of Keystone Light next to his already half-drunken one. “I got freedom of thoughts though, right?” He winked and Ben rolled his eyes.

“If you already have a drink open you should finish it,” Stan instructed, ignoring the subject at hand.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist.” y/n sounded closer than she was before. Her arm brushed up against his and he thought she was about to hold his hand until her fingers grazed just past his to grab his can of beer. She took a sip. “Besides, it all ends up somewhere.”

She could be so careless with her actions. But this was the same girl who made sure paper and plastic went to recycling, the total opposite of Stan, a total enigma.

“I just think, if you want another one, you should finish the one you already have.” Stan explained himself clearly and concisely. It was something y/n always admired. She never got tired of hearing him talk—she could listen to him talk for hours on end.

“Whatever.” Her eyes rolled so far he’d thought they’d get stuck. “I’m going home. “Later, Losers.”

“Wuh-what about the sk-skinny dipping?” Bill asked and Ben elbowed him. He wasn’t yet comfortable in his body, though he had been on Derry High’s track team for a year and a half and lost a fair amount of weight (twenty-two pounds), he still wasn’t comfortable in his own skin (he didn’t think he’d ever be)—even around his best friends—friends he considered family.

“We can do it tomorrow.” y/n shrugged. “Sound good to you, Stanley?” Her eyes were only focused on him and Stan knew that. They glowered under the sun’s harsh rays and fixated on his figure.

“I don’t know.” Stan tried to sound as monotone as possible. “Maybe you should be asking Richie instead.”

At that, y/n smiled, leaving the rest of the group confused as she walked away.

“Duh-dude!” What wuh-was that?” Bill wondered aloud, astounded how y/n had him wrapped around her finger—or maybe it was the other way around.

“If I knew, I would tell you,” Stan said, holding the same shock in his voice.

“Are you and y/n like—”

“No!” The sharpness of Stan’s tongue cut Ben off quickly with a harsh glare he’d later apologize for. But it would be a lie to say that he didn’t want something with y/n. Another lie, that Stan would keep to himself, would be that he didn’t anticipate the events that were to come for tomorrow…

“Hey, stranger!” It was y/n from down below. She was already wading in the water—waiting for him, presumably.

“Hey, y/n/n.” He started for the long way down, not caring to cannon-ball ten feet down from the cliff of the quarry today. “Where’s Bill and Bev and Mike and Ben and—”

“—and Richie?” A beam shot across y/n’s face as soon as Stan met her eye line.

“And Richie,” Stan mumbled. That was the only thing he’d been worried about. Although he knew there was nothing about his trashmouth friend to worry about. But it was always best to stay skeptical.

“I told them not to come.” y/n said this with such nonchalance—such grace as she tilted her head into the water and drifted back, letting the water carry her away as if she were weightless.

“Why,” Stan asked, though it came out as more of a demand.

“Because.” y/n shrugged, but you couldn’t really shrug while you were trying to stay afloat. He noticed that her eyes were closed, and her bathing suit was still on. Maybe she was lying about skinny dipping and he had worked himself up last night over nothing. y/n was like that—making promises she never intended to fulfill. If it weren’t for y/n being, well, y/n, Stan might’ve been annoyed at her antics. But he wasn’t—far from it, even. He was infatuated with her being—clothed or not, enraptured with how sunshine she could be one hour and rain she could be the next.

Math and English were an easy feat—but trying to understand y/n was like trying to learn Mandarin blind and deaf.

Her curves spilled from the bikini bottoms that hugged her butt and the matching top she wore hugged her bust exceptionally. The bikini’s scandalous red color harmonized with y/n’s skin tone well and Stan couldn’t imagine her in anything else at the moment. He didn’t want to imagine her in anything else.

“Are you gonna get in?” Her presence startled him as she was quick to swim up to the rocks. “Or are you scared?” A sly smile splayed across her pink lips and Stan mirrored her.

“I’m scared?” He scoffed. “You were the one who said we were going skinny dipping.” He stripped himself of his shirt, revealing his pale, yet toned, chest. “Guess who’s not undressed.”

“You?” y/n guessed; the innocent tone surprising on her tongue. She had inadvertently licked her lips at the answer and Stan couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her mouth due to the action.

“No. You.”

“My bad.” A giggle escaped her bitten lips and y/n began to unclip the back of her bikini. “Is that better now?” The straps fell loose against her arms, but the top stayed covering her breasts.

Stan didn’t say anything.

“What if I…” y/n didn’t finish her sentence. Silently, she fully removed the straps from her arms and the contraption left her bodice.

“Christ,” Stan seethed out, but he wasn’t gentlemen enough to look away from the sight on display before him: y/n treading the shallow water that was crystal clear thanks to Mr. Sun that shone down on this part of town, giving Stan an eyeful.

“Don’t say his name in vain.” She had now slipped the bottoms off and Stan didn’t know what to do with himself. Get undressed, I guess.

His pants were the next to go as Stanley undid his brown leather belt that held his too-big khaki shorts together. His waistline had shrunk due to baseball season’s quick start. And although it was only early March, the heat had picked up fast in this small town they called home and Stan could feel himself already itching to feel the water on his sweat-stricken skin.

“What are you waiting for?” y/n called from below. She was growing impatient, but who could blame her?

Stan stood above her in only his underwear. If the rest of the student body was here, he would’ve been living out his nightmare—stripped to the bone with an audience to gawk at him. But only y/n was here to witness the grey Calvin Kleins that hugged his thighs and rather than a nightmare, this felt more like a daydream.

“Are you shy?” She teased. “C’mon, Stanny, there’s no need to be—”

“Shy my ass,” Stan interjected as he relieved himself of the last piece of clothing and jumped into the water all in a quick movement.

“Glad you could finally make it, slowpoke.” y/n splashed his face, disregarding his lack of clothes—both of their lack of clothes—but Stan couldn’t help but admire y/n’s skin that the water had already kissed and glowed under the flash of the sun.

He’d never seen her in such a state before. In fact, he’d never intended to. But this was worth it—even if it were the only time, he knew he’d have this memory burned into his skull forever the same way the sun would burn his skin the next day because he forgot to apply sunscreen. Since when does Stanley Uris forget to apply sunscreen?

“It’s rude to stare,” y/n deadpanned, but Stan couldn’t help it. How could he not take his eyes off her tan lines from up close and the divot of her collarbone? The way her hair slicked back from the water and the pout of her lips was all too tempting to not want to consume. Stan Uris would be an idiot to not stare. A polite idiot.

“You make it hard.”

y/n felt her cheeks heat up and she knew she wasn’t sporting a sunburn. y/n never burned. “Oh. Well, in that case, stare as much as you want.”

“Gladly.”

y/n was quiet now—a rare event, but it gave Stan an opportunity he’d never thought he’d get or go for.

He swam closer, the stroke of his arms creating rifts in the water and y/n shivered at the feeling of the coldness that hit her chest each time he got closer.

It was strange seeing him up close—in such an intimate setting. As big of a crush y/n harbored on the boy, it’s not like she did anything about it. A few remarks there, a few remarks there. This was the furthest they’ve ever gotten. Maybe a little too far now that she was considering it more closely. Since when did first base turn into skinny dipping in the quarry?

Before her thoughts could leave her second-guessing anymore, y/n felt her lips on someone else’s. They were pressed together firmly and tightly. She held her breath as if she were underwater, but her heart prevailed, only picking up at a speed she’d only feel when she caught him looking at her or when he laughed at her jokes.

The kiss was powerful and all she needed. If this were the last time they’d ever see each other again, she wouldn’t care, because she’d have that kiss to cherish. Maybe she’d long for one in the future. Just one more. But this kiss left her knowing that this skinny-dipping idea wasn’t so bad after all.

His lips were soft and tickled as he pulled apart to catch a breath. y/n’s eyes opened to find Stan’s pupils were wide and lustblown. She stood still in the water, amazed that anyone could feel that way about her.

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“Hey, Stan—”

“What?” Stan asked, eager and anxious for the words meant for him.

“This is embarrassing but.. I like you.” The words were bold and packed with courage—not far from the regular way y/n spoke, but this was different. It had a certain bite to it that Stan couldn’t quite taste.

“Are you embarrassed because you like me or are you embarrassed because you’re confessing to me without any clothes on?” Before Stan’s eyes could rake down to y/n’s body once more, a splash of water hit his face—cold and abrupt. His eyelids slammed at the impact and he flinched.

“You’re such a perv.” y/n scoffed as if she had forgotten her deepest secret had just spilled from her lips in front of the boy the secret was about. Secret. Don’t act like it wasn’t as obvious as a fat kid scarfing down their third brownie in the first place—

“You know if it’s any more embarrassing… I like you, too,” Stan said. He felt winded after saying it. His chest felt heavy and his toes dug into the sand in order to keep him from falling headfirst into the water. It was so easy for y/n. Brave, crass y/n who swore like a sailor yet had the face of a doll.

Stan’s train of thought was lost at the feeling of y/n’s body pressed against his. He’d forgotten they were both bare-assed and exposed for all of Derry to see because the warmth of y/n was all too much. His heart jumped out of his chest sixty miles a minute and the muscles under his arms were now stones. Stan didn’t recognize that her lips were on his until her tongue swiped his bottom one for access in which he granted.

Teeth clashed and tongues danced. It was a hot minute until y/n pulled away with a cheeky smile and lingering fingers on his collarbone that made Stan hold his breath.

“That was hot,” he heaved, finally cutting the silence between them. Of course, the birds still chirped and the water around them never stopped flowing. But the world just seemed to stop whenever Stan stepped foot into y/n’s intoxicating proximity.

“Hell yeah, it was.” One arm was still strewn around his neck while her free hand traced code on his shoulder.

Nothing else was said. Nothing had to be said. But Stan was sure of one thing; that y/n was no coward.

[soulwillower]

buttercup • richie tozier

(richie tozier x reader)

requested: Would you mind writing a Richie Tozier X reader soulmate AU where Richie is VERY self conscious and he finds out that the reader is his soulmate and the reader is well known and very pretty, so he’s just like djjdjfgjjcbvnfnf but once they actually meet she really likes him? :0 thanks if you consider!

warning: swearing, angst, richie being edgy and also a bit unstable (king shit), neuroatypical richie!!!, fluff, soulmate au!! <33 also sorry this may be rough, i havent edited it at all

[reader + losers are in college]

lmk what u guys think of this one,... idk LOL

4.1k words

♡

richie was about to be sick. yes, he really, really was going to vomit in approximately ten seconds and he didn’t know what he was going to do. the room, full of barely-adults chugging jungle juice was sweaty and bustling and the walls were closing in on him quick. those people who weren't in the main rooms were doing sniff in the bathrooms and blocking his pathway to heaven (the toilet) so he quickly stumbles towards the sliding-glass door.

he passes a guy who claps his shoulder and says in a deep voice, "you good, bro?"

no, no. he's not good, bro. thanks for asking, though.

as he finally breaks free of the plastic, out of the crusty balloon that was holding his body hostage, he takes a deep breath and sprawls himself on the back deck, staring up at the clouds in the nighttime sky. maybe he should go home and mull this over, before he crams it down his own throat and chokes to death, alone and broken on the back deck of a 22 year old business major's rental house.

he laughs to himself - an image which he's sure would be a full on maniacal scene to an onlooker - as he lights a cigarette with very shaky fingers. even if he chooses to give this situation some thought, he will end up being forced regardless because this is, quite literally, richard tozier's destiny.

y/n y/l/n is richie's destiny, and it makes him feel like complete shit.

you see - his whole life, richie knew about the fucking soulmate tattoos. of course he did, everybody did - it was, like, one of the first things you learn, ever. he knows that there's basically a soulmate for every person and often times the soulmate marks were different, the ways of finding your soulmate were wide and far.

for most of richie's life - actually, almost all of it up until the last month - he'd had a big, fat 0 tattooed on his arm and below it a humiliating phrase that was quite the epitome of richie himself.

yet it never changed, which led him, his friends, and his parents to determine that he'd gotten a time-counter soulmate mark, which he likes to pride himself on believing he did not give a single fuck about.

the number is supposed to count the amount of time that you've spent with your soulmate, and there's usually a sentence or phrase that's associated with your soulmate's first thoughts of you below it. and yeah, of course the first thing the lucky guy or gal thought of richie is 'wow, those are the ugliest socks ever.' pretty fucking on-brand, if richie says so himself.

so yeah, he never really paid attention to his soulmate mark - partly because the thought of emotionally opening up to someone enough for them to know his whole and true self was repulsive and terrifying enough to make him physically ill, enough for him to develop a crazy sense of humor as a less-than proficient coping mechanism for the insecurity and fear that lives in his mind rent-free, 24/7 365. but mostly he didn't pay attention to the mark because, you know, he thought it was lame.

that is, until it changed from the 0.

it happened on the first day of classes fall semester of this, his freshman year of college.

which, honestly, was a huge fucking bummer, because he literally came into contact with almost 800 new people that first day through classes, dorms, walking around campus, and the dining hall. and yet, as he got back to his dorm and smoked a bowl with bill, he'd noticed that his arm had said 00:51:26.

bill had been so excited he'd almost lifted richie through the roof, because 'holy sh-shit, rich, y-you did it!'

it was hard to believe someone was out there for him, though. and yeah, he didn't give a fuck about it, but he also kind of did.

richie, now thinking back on that day, groans a bit. if he'd just known, if he had just fucking looked at the thigh of the girl in front of him with the soft-looking grin and the alluring scent of orange creamsicle shampoo, who'd smiled a bit when he borrowed a pen - if he'd just known then that y/n was meant to spend the rest of her life with him, he could've... well, he's not really sure what he could have done.

he thinks to that moment in time, as he was blowing smoke out the dorm window with bill and giggling as he ate an entire bag of cheez-its, and how much he wanted to know who it was back then.

but tonight, it had become a nightmare when the information practically fell into his lap. he's at this house party in late september, and about five minutes ago it was just boring enough to warrant sitting on the rug in the living room and just fun enough to actually stay.

“-yeah, she said the first time you guys met was in microeconomics, right?” ben says, and richie huffs in agreement as he picks at the skin on his nails. ben was talking about her again, and richie's heart was beating stupidly hard. y/n, one of his closest friends that he'd made outside of the losers, never failed to make his heart run a goddamn marathon.

“-she told me the first thing she noticed was that you were wearing socks with sandals. and she thought that your socks were really ugly.” he finishes with a laugh and richie’s head snaps up at that. he feels chills spill over back as if he’d been doused with ice water and he gapes at ben. “wait, what?” richie shudders, the words escaping his lips quietly enough that his friends mistake it for a forceful exhale brought on by offense at the word 'ugly.'

“well she was right to think that.” stan says from behind his solo cup, carefree, as if richie’s life wasn’t crashing to an alarming and unbelievable halt. eddie giggles faintly somewhere from the floor where the losers are sitting, but richie’s mind is reeling too much for him to react to or even comprehend anything.

“rich, i th-thought i got you to st-stop wearing socks and sandals so long ago.” bill adds, laughing into his hand. but richie’s barely registering any other fucking information because he’s staring at ben, who is finally noticing his friend’s perplexed face. “you good, rich?” ben asks carefully.

“wh-er, wait. what exactly did she say?” richie asks, really not wanting to know the answer and yet wanting to know more than life itself. it can't be her. he’s getting odd looks from everyone now, but he's starting to breathe quickly and he thinks he might vomit. he kind of regrets never showing anybody but big bill his soulmate mark, because he's suffocating right now in embarrassment and bill is a little too drunk to assume what richie's assuming right now.

“wait, y/n y/l/n, right? from my dorm. she’s here tonight, she told me- oh, y/n!” stan calls, looking directly over richie’s shoulder. it happens so fast. y/n, in the flesh, walks past at just that moment, breaking out into a breath-taking, world-halting smile. richie's chest hurts worse than it ever has before as she waves and bustles over to plop herself next to richie. and holy shit, she's wearing shorts because even though it's cold out, the house is warm and richie can see dark ink on her thigh. a soulmate tattoo. he can't draw his eyes away even though his brain is screaming to knock it off because there's going to be something there he doesn't want to accept, but he then does it anyways.

he almost hyperventilates as he reads the words emblazoned on her thigh,

27:36:08 and right below it: "holy hell her hair smells like orange creamsicle"

he almost sobs right then and there as she greets him with a soft hand on his shoulder, completely unaware of their fate and richie has to stand up abruptly because he can literally feel the numbers changing on his arm as the seconds go by with y/n at his side.

and now, mere minutes later he's out here, laying in self pity as anxiety claws at every inch of his body and fear tingles on him like the slight presence of snowflakes falling on his skin - briefly he wonders if, as an older man, he'll wonder how he never got cold wearing nothing, vulnerable as he welcomes in that falling snow.

he would be totally daft not to wonder how he ended up with a soulmate like her, someone not only so fucking attractive but so kind and undeserving of a monstrosity of a human like him. she is, in every place he isn't, a complete and utter success of a person; he's a hurricane where she's whitecaps in the sea, he's loud and abrupt while she is kind and outgoing. maybe they do work well together, hell - they spend enough time on study dates outside of class for him to know that he does really like her. but richie also knows his standoffish, happy-go-lucky and untamed personality paired with his unwillingness to make himself appear vulnerable to most people will probably have a very large impact on... whatever it is that happens with y/n.

because that's really the point, isn't it?

she is stuck with him. bucky beaver, the trashmouth, mr. i-can't-keep-my-trap-shut-for-three-seconds. y/n, the most incredible person in this world, is the kind of person that was designed for richie to admire from afar, as he is so willing to suffer through. because as much as it hurts to watch her and to love her without loving her, it is a thousand times safer for both of them than the inevitable look of disappointment that will befall y/n’s angelic features when she discovers who her burden of a soulmate is.

the thought makes richie choke out a weak sob, sitting up and digging the heel of his palms into his sockets, trying to scrub out the image of himself from his brain. awful, awful, bad.

he takes a long drag from his cigarette and for a brief moment he wonders if, just maybe, she’ll love him back eventually. the thought makes him feel like crying all over again.

huge nose, big teeth, awkwardly skinny and too tall. maybe he's got nice hair, but he sometimes wakes up too late and can only brush his teeth and swipe on deodorant before he's sprinting out his dorm with his pickle socks and stan's old sandals, trudging to class and getting in the way of y/n's future.

but he is her future, after all - how can that be right?

he doesn't have enough time to take another drag from his cig as he hears the glass door open, the noise from the party bursting through the gap in the foundation of the house and sending him back to five minutes, ago, inside. he cranes his neck and can't bring himself to be surprised when he sees her, backlit from the party inside and figure in his mind standing like the only being in the world.

she thinks he looks devastatingly beautiful tonight. she loves the awkwardness in his bones, the way he carries himself with confidence although she's not sure he always really has it. he's wearing some dumb socks again as usual, though they're mostly covered by his black pants and red high-tops this time. it makes her smile softly.

she wants to know him, really know him, as more than just a classmate, a crush, a boy who's friends with stan uris from the floor above her own room. she wants to feel his large hands on her in more than just fleeting greetings, knucks to the shoulder or jaw. she wants the sharp taste of nicotine and mint from those life savers he was always sucking on in her own mouth as he holds her tightly against him, she wants to know everything about him and be with him, even if they aren't somehow destined to be forever. which, she thinks with an array of wild animals tumbling around her chest, they might be.

after all, someone at this party is her soulmate, and she's almost 99.8% sure it's richie. it gives her the most beautiful butterflies she's ever had, even when he stares at her from the deck with glassy eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

"what’s up, buttercup?” is all she says, in her mind because he's stunned her to near-silence once again by just existing, and in his mind because she is the most perfect being.

he doesn't respond despite being completely charmed by her, because he's breathing in the nicotine and its making his fingers twitch and even though he's sober by now, he thinks he may be tweaking a bit, mostly from the overwhelming set of information that just smacked into his face when y/n walked over into that room.

he watches as suddenly she's dropping herself so she's sat next to him, her legs swinging off the edge of the deck. she eyes his cigarette. "that's so unhealthy, rich." she says softly, teasing but with a lacing of truth behind it that really makes richie itch to never smoke ever again in his life. but he's a stubborn ass, so he instead takes a deeper drag, maintaining eye contact. he can feel one tear slip from his eye and he feels so fucking melodramatic as he does so, but he's at the lowest he's been in a while, so he gives himself a bit of credit.

she reaches out and pulls the cigarette directly from between his lips, sending him a pointed look as she presses it out on the finished wood of the deck. he wipes the tear away when she's not looking. and as she turns back he smirks, unsure what else to do, as he blows the smoke out of his mouth towards her face.

"hi, toots." he says in what he hopes is a normal tone, despite his blotchy and tear-trailed face. she blinks her eyes owlishly at him but just shrugs, "you left a little prematurely back there. what, do i smell that bad?" she jokes. no, he thinks, you smell like orange creamsicles.

it's bittersweet, the irony in her statement. because he knows that she probably knows what she smells like every day, as it's literally tattooed right on the meat of her leg, on display for her and whoever else lucky enough to find themselves being acquainted with the skin of her upper thigh. the thought leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

maybe if he were feeling a little less in-the-dumps, a little less like a complete and utter disappointment and failure that ruined this sweet girl's life, he would have ribbed her back a bit. you know, grind her gears in typical tozier fashion.

but he's exhausted and so distraught that he can't bring himself to even look at her. "i'm not in the mood" he grumbles, his heart pounding. she frowns, tilting her head.

"okay, what's wrong, richie?" she asks, and it's in that caring voice that she uses that isn't pitying but simply solicitous in nature. her calming force on him is obvious and immediate and his teeth stop rattling around in his head

he wants to scream because she's burning warm and perfect while he's frigid cold inside his body; a wasteland full of broken slinkies and half-formulated 'your mom' jokes that are melded to the crust of him with the tar that's been sucked straight from those damn ciggies. for crying out loud, if he were to so much as touch her, she'd get corrupted.

she notices as he scoots a bit away from her, and her heart hurts. he's so upset, clearly, and yet it hurts her that he can't trust himself or her enough to open up; no fault of his own surely, but heartbreaking all the same. "i care about you, and i really want to be here for you." she says it like there's going to be more, but the words kind of die in her throat as she realizes the extend of her words.

holy shit, she thinks, i'd go to the ends of the earth for him. if richie asked me to, i think i'd probably kill the queen.

"i stubbed my toe, and it really hurts." he says then, and the absurdity of his excuse makes her laugh out loud, head tilting back towards the moon as the bubbly giggles tumble from her lips. she looks at him after and his face is a twisted mix of affection and utter pain, a combination that hurts her to her core but lights a fuel in her that makes her want to help him.

"it's true." he mutters, motioning to his shoe limply, and she looks at his foot, the tip of his converse scribbled in sharpie with the word 'half-brain' and then a bunch of hearts.

"i like your socks." she says absentmindedly, grinning at him as she says it, voice teasing. but the reaction she was hoping for was nowhere to be seen as richie suddenly heaves a hiccup-sob, one so upsetting and quiet that she thinks she misheard it.

but he's keeling over and clutching his face with his hands, shaking his head, and her heart breaks. "richie, honey please tell me what's going on. or i can just sit here, if you'd rather-"

her sentence is cut off with richies own rushed words, expelled from his mouth so quickly that it's almost as if they were trying to escape while his lips tried to hold them in.

"-you're going to have to spend the rest of your life trying to force yourself to love me, and that terrifies me.”

as he says it, his stomach twists itself inwards at his admission and he thinks he's going to be sick. he doesn't deserve you, you're going to resent him for it. she's silent for a few moments, and he doesn't dare look anywhere near her as tears trail down his solemn cheekbones and drop onto the black corduroy that wraps around his jittering legs.

"richie, please, what are you trying to say?" she says quietly, sounding scared, nervous, upset... richie did that. it's his fault. he tilts his head back, his brain buzzing in guilt. "fuck," he says, and it comes out broken, "you... i- you're my soulmate." he says, looking down to where his chest rises and falls almost unnaturally, a consequence of muscle memory being tampered with by the lethally college combination of nicotine, alcohol and marijuana on an empty stomach.

earlier he was afraid that if he opened his mouth too wide he would lose control of his tongue and then the words would come out without him wanting them to, but he knows he's basically sober by now, as sober as y/n is next to him - he's just neurotic, but he doesn't want her to know that, because oh god, what if she hated him for it?

she wouldn't, right? isn't she supposed to find a way to love him?

this was a really stupid idea, but in his mind it was one that had to be done. shutting his eyes, he tugs the sleeve of his left arm upwards, taking a shaky breath. again, it's silent as she reads the words written there. wow, those are the ugliest socks ever.

she stares at the words, and the number above it, then she looks at her own thigh, where the exact same number counts on in time with his.

he wastes no time, though: "-don't worry, doll. i've got it figured out, we can just- maybe we can get yours covered and you don't have to think about it anymore. fi-find someone better, like, oh, bill - he'd treat you nice i think. just- we don't have to think about it, i'm sorry." he says in one breath, not looking at her at all.

"richie, how can i be yours if you're not mine?" she says thickly because she's fighting off tears wondering how someone so incredible and full of life could feel so undeserving.

"you can't want me, you can't." he insists, not looking at her as she gapes at him because if he were to look at her expression he may lose it. it's quiet again in their own little world here, the air silent and numbing as y/n takes a breath.

"oh my god, wait richie how are we this stupid?" she asks, perking up and lightly slapping his arm. he looks at her in shock as she begins to laugh, "we've been alone together so many times. how did we not notice?" she asks, and he chuckles a bit, shrugging.

"maybe we're not the sharpest crayons in the drawer, toots. all i'm sayin' is that i figured it out first." he says cheekily, and secretly both of them are shocked to see how quickly they fell together, as if the knowledge that they were made for each other made all their insecurities fall away.

her face softens again. "you know, i saw my timer counting tonight and i was hoping more than anything that you'd be here. that we'd be-" she adds softly, a hand landing lightly on richie's thigh, sending licks of flames up his body. she takes a breath and restarts. "do you know how fucking bad i wanted it to be you?"

and just like that, y/n unintentionally provides a luscious mix of words and tricks that fill him with barely enough confidence to let him bet when he knows he should fold.

what's life without a little risk?

he meets her eyes for the first time in a few minutes and hers are large and hopeful as they wait patiently for him to give her something. but he still can't speak without running his mouth, so instead he cups her cheeks. her lips part slowly and he stares in awe at her raw beauty, unable to hold it in longer.

he presses his lips to her quickly and to her it feels like he is trying to prove something. it makes her heart soar as he comes alive against her, pressing as enthusiastically as she is into him. he tastes, as she'd guessed, like nicotine but mostly like a mint and it makes her grin as he pulls back.

"is this okay?" he's asking then, his thumb soothing over her cheek sweetly and giving her the same butterflies she gets when he smiles; the very same butterflies that release when he says anything to her, when he comes to her dorm for a study date with two red bulls in his hand, and when she realized their tattoos beat the same.

"yeah, of course." she whispers against his lips, the feeling of his teasing lightly making her sniffle. she presses their lips together again, this time warmer, more comfortably and his hands move to her hips and tug her closer, her hands winding to his neck as his own hands explore her body, caressing her sides gently. he pulls back and holds her softly.

"your hair smells nice." he says sheepishly, and she grins so widely she thinks she may split in two. her heart flutters as she looks into his eyes, finding nothing but love. "orange creamsicle, huh?" she asks with pink cheeks, and he laughs lightly, nodding his head. "best smell ever, babe."

"you make me happy." she says it onto his lips again, and the shiver that runs down his spine is a feeling he wouldn't mind feeling forever. his heart soars because he believes her, he trusts her. she wouldn't lie to him.

"we're so dramatic, aren't we?" richie jokes, his walls sliding back up a bit, but as y/n cuddles into his chest, head against his beating heart as she presses kisses to his neck, he realizes she accepts him.

"yeah, well. we're made for each other, aren't we rich?" she asks gently as his hand falls to brush over her thigh, right over the words. "that's right, toots." he says softly, looking down at her hairline softly, still in disbelief that it worked out for him. she turns to look at him, cheeks dusted a bit as she leans up to press a kiss on his lips.

tag list: @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings​ @stenbrozier​ @simplesammyx​ @dickology64​ @clownsloveyou​ @baby-yoda-a @moon-shine-baby​ @daughter-of-the-stars11 @lets-vibe-bro​ @trashedfortozier​ @oceandog13​ @finnskindofwoman​  @kait-tozier​ @upamongthestarss​ @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s @diorbubs 

[hallowscandlewrites]

The Lovers Club (It AU ReaderxAll the Guys)

The Lovers Club (It AU ReaderxBill,Richie,Ben,Eddie,Stanley,Mike)

Warning: Non-con, a little bit of dominate & submissive stuff, erotica themes. They are not kids in this fic. 

Summary: Reader has moved to Derry, Maine to care for her elderly grandmother. As an outsider all her life, y/n assumed Derry would be another place she wouldn’t fit in. However, she meet’s a group of young men (early/mid twenty’s) that secretly call themselves “The Lovers Club”. It’s not the type of club where they read books or make crafts, the “Lovers Club” is filled with pleasure & experiences that y/n never thought she’d have; the problem is, some of the men start getting possessive, they want her to be theirs, only theirs.

       The library was nearly empty. And that was how y/n liked it. She has only been in Derry for a week but has already found her favorite spot to be. Other than the suspicious looks from the librarian, y/n felt like the library was one of the two places she belonged; the other being the corner house, painted pink and purple flowers, it was an oddity in Derry, the color pallet here was grays, browns and greens.  Y/n was odd herself, mostly because she was new and in a small town like this, you know everybody but nobody knew her. 

    Y/n reminded herself that she only had a few hours before her she has to make dinner for her family, which was just her and her grandmother. Immediately, y/n went to the mystery section where the world of the unknown waited for her to get her hands on it. However, she wasn’t the only one with that idea. A young man was pulling out various books from the dusty shelves. 

    “Hello.” He looked at y/n and showed a shy smile. He was handsome with blondish, brunet hair and dark eyes. 

   A rush of heat filled y/n’s cheeks, and she looked at the ground, “Hey...”, the girl said as she began to observe the books. 

  While she wasn’t paying attention, the young man (Ben) scanned y/n from head to toe while her back was turned to him. Instantly, he thought she was cute; the shy way she pushed past him, the rose-red color her face turned. It reminded him of himself during his childhood, the way he’d stare longingly at a certain red-haired vixen that has since been long-gone. 

   Before Ben thought more, he blurted, “So what’s your name?” to the girl. She turned to him, her eyes wide. She fumbled with the few books she had in her hand, shaken by the sudden intrusion. 

  “Y/n..... L/n.” She said, smiling.

     Ben took a few seconds. Her last name did sound familiar but he couldn’t add anything up until.....

  “The pink house with the crazy purple flowers! That old woman who lives there....is she...” Ben trailed off, expecting y/n to fill in the obvious blanks. 

  “My grandmother? Yes, yes she is.” Y/N answered, slightly hoping that would be the end of the conversation but it wasn’t because Ben didn’t want it to be.

  “Well I’m Ben Hanscom.” Ben wanted to shake her hand or something but they both had a stack of books in their arms. 

     They spoke for an hour, getting to know a little bit about each-other. Ben was more of an open-book with y/n, where-as she.....held back. Ben thought, when he’d asked about her family and all she talked about was her grandmother and avoided mentioning anyone else. Otherwise, they had much in common. She reminded him of some of the guys and he reminded her of the elderly woman that was waiting for her at home. His attention was fully on her and although, in the past, that usually made her uncomfortable, it was rather nice with Ben Hanscom. 

  “I have to get back home now but it was nice meeting you.” Y/n said, grateful but in a hurry. 

    Before she could go, Ben grabbed her hand. “Please meet me here tomorrow! Same time.” He asked, his big, pleading eyes, glossed with comfort & kindness. 

  “I..I-I don’t know. Maybe.” She curtly said, rushing away and tightly holding herself around her torso. Her heart thumped excitingly. 

  Ben watched her leave, eyes narrowed at the new girl who’s captured his attention in a very short time. He would have to be careful though, because if his friends found out he had a girl all to himself.....they’d take her too.

   Y/n made a simple dinner for her and her grandmother. The elderly woman pressed intrusive questions at the table, asking why her grand-daughter had been smiling like a fool when she got home, why the young girl was too shaky to eat; why she had a dreamy, far off look in her eye during the majority of the meal. Y/n shook off the questions but couldn’t hide her buzz, physically. All she said was that maybe she’d made a friend, something y/n thought difficult to do as an adult. Sleep that night came later than sooner; it wasn’t just her nervous eating her up about the next day, it was the old couch that y/n had to sleep on that she was still getting use to. There wasn’t a second bedroom.

  The next day after hours of restless tossing and turning, y/n got up and got ready to do some errands. Her first stop, was to pick up some prescription drugs for grandma and some other items too. Finding the corner drug store was easy, but when y/n arrived, two men were leaning by the front door; chatting amongst themselves as if they weren’t blocking the way.

  “Excuse me....I-I need to get in, please.” Y/n asked, forcing herself to took the two men in the eyes.

   The shorter of the two men backed away kindly but the other with dark, bushy hair and thick glasses stood there, observing the girl as if she’d interrupted something important. 

  “Richie, come on! Let’s go get something to eat.” The shorter guy said, tugging the jacket covered arm of his pal. 

  Richie just stared at y/n but not with contempt, annoyance yes but something else, curiosity. “She stutter’s just like Bill. Funny.” Richie stepped away from the door, put an arm around his friends’ shoulder as they walked away, uninterested after-all. 

 Okay, that was weird, y/n thought, stepping into the drug store. 

     After that, y/n headed back her to grandmother’s to deliver the medicine then it’d be time to meet up with Ben. The thought of him sent a bolt of shivers down her back, the way he looked at her as if he’d discovered buried treasure. Y/n had boyfriends and a girlfriend or two but she still wasn’t a pro at dating. Her shyness always got the better of her and who ever she was with, got bored. Y/n wanted to do more things in her love life but it was as if there was an invisible wall that kept her from really touching her lover. 

      In the pink house decorated with purple flowers, in a rocking chair sat Y/n’s grandmother who had a book in her hands, the tv on as background noise. 

   “Here’s your stuff, remember to take it before dinner. I’m going to the library for a few hours and then I’ll be back, is that alright?” Y/n asked, crouching down to meet her family member’s eyes. 

  The elderly woman shook her head, “You’re an adult, you don’t have to ask me permission to go out, y/n. I’ll be fine but I would like to ask who you’ll be meeting?” 

��  The smirk on her grandmother’s face said everything about how quickly she catches on. But y/n did not want to tell the truth, because y/n was here to take care of her family, not date, not make friends; the young woman didn’t even know how long she’d be in Derry, anyway.

   “Nobody, I promise. I just like the library a lot. Back home, ours closed down long ago so it’s nice to come to a place where you have one at all.” Y/n said. It wasn’t a total lie, the library she went to as a kid did close down about ten years ago which left a younger and smaller y/n disappointed. 

 Y/n walked, trying to keep a medium pace. She didn’t want to seem to excited or desperate to meet a man she just met yesterday. For all she knows, he could have lied as a cruel joke. 

   The library was an older building, not fancy, it was plain, with barely any decoration or posh detailing. It’s drab appearance fit in with the rest of the town, slightly run-down but rich in community and history. Y/n stood at the bottom of the steps, unable to move forward as if the invisible wall had planted itself between the building and her. Y/n forced a foot forward as the only way to get where she wanted to be,  a surge of confidence ripping through her as she entered the library doors; but all confidence drained from her when she spotted Ben at one of the tables, a stack of books next to him. None of them were being read. Ben had been waiting, as he checked his wrist watch and glanced around. 

    Y/n wanted to walk out and forget this meet-up. Thinking it makes her crazy to think this handsome guy was waiting for her. He didn’t even know her. But it was too late because a second later, Ben saw Y/n standing by the door. A big smile crossing his face, as he waved in a short notion. 

    Y/n met the young man at the table where he gestured for her to sit down.

   “Thanks for coming. I’ll be honest and say I don’t actually have a plan but I guess we can take it slow.” Ben admitted, his eyes darting to Y/n’s chest and them immediately back up to her face. 

  Y/n pretended not to notice, she was nervous too, she thought and didn’t want to judge but couldn’t help but think the deepness in his dark eyes held something more....sinister, something he was trying to tame and keep quiet like an animal inside his own mind. 

  “You’re just fine, what books did you-” She was unable to finish her question when a handful of men appeared out of no where, around the table.

   “Ben! Remember our plan! What are you doing here?” The curly haired boy with thick glasses asked. Y/n couldn’t help but think about how she’s seen him before. 

  Unfamiliar faces surrounded the table as well, each of them darting their attention from Ben to Y/n. 

     Ben adjusted in his chair, his eyebrows narrowed and he sighed. “I’m sorry I forgot about our plans.” He said, his voiced edged with anger.

   “I remember you from yesterday. You’re that girl. Eddie, its that girl from yesterday.’ Richie mocked, elbowing the shorter man near him who rolled his eyes. 

  “Yeah well come on. Bill and Mike are waiting at the house.” Riche said, grabbing Ben’s shoulder to make him stand.

  Ben grabbed the table, he looked at Y/n with an apologetic expression. He didn’t want to leave and Y/n didn’t understand why he didn’t just say no.

  “I don’t think he want’s to leave, guys.” Y/n said, her voice barely above a whisper but they heard her.  

  The air was thick is the seconds of silence that followed; whatever wasn’t being said made it seem like there was an invisible wall between all of them. But richie was the first to speak up.

  “May I remind you Ben, what happens when you break our rules. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to see your girlfriend here face the consequences of you actions for you. I think Bill would LOVE to have a girl in the group for the first time in years, don’t you think?” Richie said, putting a tight arm around Ben’s shoulders. 

    Ben thrashed out of his chair, pushing Richie away. He looked at Y/n with glassy eyes, his the corners of his lips turned down . Richie was smiling as Ben walked away with the group of boys except Richie himself and his best friend, Eddie. Richie turned his attention to Y/n, his eyes laced with malice. 

   “Don’t hang around here too much sweetheart.” Richie suggested, walking closer to y/n whose leg backs’ were stopped by a chair; she couldn’t go any further without tripping.

 “Unless you’d like to find out what we’d do to you, then by all means follow along.” Richie turned away and grabbed Eddie’s hand as they walked out of the library, leaving Y/n alone and confused. 

Later that night while her grandmother was her cat on the couch, Y/n forced herself to ask her grandmother about the strange young men she’d encountered earlier. 

  “Do you know who Ben Hanscom is grandma?” Y/n asked, taking a seat on the couch. 

  Her grandmother kept brushing the cat, “Oh that young man is actually pretty nice. I use to talk to his mother a lot; he was a chubby little thing but he’s grown quite handsome.”

  Y/n smiled, knowing that if her grandmother liked him then maybe things weren’t as weird as they seemed. “That’s great but what about his friends? Are there gangs here?” Y/n asked.

  Her grandmother stopped brushing the cat and looked at Y/n as if she just said something terrible while setting the brush on her side table. “Why are you asking about those boys? Did they harass you or something? Listen to me, Ben ain’t bad but those fellow men he hangs out with are trouble. They aren’t criminals, but they’re....dangerous I think. You don’t need to be around them, promise me you’ll stay away?” 

 “I can stay away.” Y/n said, not completely sure she meant that. 

  It took Y/n a few hours to decide if going into the deep end of this was worth it or not. I made her stomach bubble, flashes of heat touched her forehead and the invisible wall stayed still. All the signs were pointing to this being a bad idea, that Ben was one man in a town full of people just like him. However, maybe there wasn’t anyone like Ben. Others would look at Y/n and whisper to the next person or they’d just ignore her completely but Ben didn’t hesitate to let her in. Maybe it’d be wise to talk to Ben, away from those other men.

 Tomorrow. She’ll find him tomorrow and they’ll talk.

   The next day was bleak. Dark grey skies and heavy rain made Y/n grab her rain-coat, a yellow slicker that she got from the thrift store when she moved here. Nobody was on the streets, which was unusual for Derry, Saturday afternoon. Y/n made her way to the library but Ben wasn’t there and didn’t know where he would be; she really didn’t know anything about him so why was she wasting her own time trying to find this guy. But as she made her way out of the library, she ran into a familiar face; the smaller man that was always with Richie. Today he was by himself. 

  The two stared at each-other. Unlike Richie this guy didn’t look at her like he wanted fight her, he looked inconvenienced and.....sorry?

  “I don’t know where Ben is. He’s probably at home but I’m not sure. You should probably listen to Richie and stay away from us.” He said, brushing past Y/n like she was nothing.

  The woman got irate. She snapped as she gripped the arm of the stupid man and pulled him back in front of her. The rage diffused when she looked at his face and the general disdain in his narrowed eyes. His brows furrowed and he stepped back from Y/n but yet he couldn’t help but feel excited. Her touch did something to him and maybe that’s why Ben almost ditched the group yesterday for her. The group hadn’t had a newcomer in years and any candidates were liabilities. This woman however, Y/n, Ben had called her during the ‘meeting’ yesterday, could be the missing piece they needed. 

  It’s selfish, Eddie thought but he knew what he needed to do to test out his theory. “I’m Eddie, Ben’s friend. I don’t know where he is but we all usually meetup at our other friends house for some fun on Saturday night’s. Would you like to join us? There’ll be drinks and good-looking men.” Eddie finished with the childish smile that most people fall for.  

  Y/n hesitated. She’d have to call grandma and explain that she’d be late for dinner. Maybe, making some friends wouldn’t be terrible while she was here.

  “Yeah, I’ll go.”  Y/n stated. Eddie reached out his hand and Y/n took it. Eddie walked this girl to Bill Denbrough’s home. Bill was their leader. And Eddie was praying that Bill liked the new member he’d present to him. A young, naive woman who’d need to be taught some lessons; she’d need to be broken in. As to which person in the group would do that? They’ll know tonight.

  They walked in without knocking, and Eddie told Y/n to sit on the couch. She noticed that it sounded more like  a demand and not a question which made Y/n hesitate to sit but Eddie’s hard glare sent shivers down her spine and she sat.

  “Bill, It’s Eddie! I’ve got something to show you!” Eddie yelled up the stairs.

    Seconds later, footsteps came pounding down. A tall, handsome man came into the living room, clenching a ball of paper in one hand. “I’m busy doing work for the news paper.” 

 Eddie cleared his throat, “This is Y/n. I thought you’d want to meet her. maybe...” Eddie shrunk under Bill’s gaze. He couldn’t meet his leader’s eyes.

   Bill looked at Y/n. The woman was cute but that wouldn’t be enough for her to fit in. She looked at her feet while swinging her legs like a child. Bill rolled his eyes ready to dismiss her but a second glance caught an interesting detail. The yellow coat she wore reminded him of a terrible time. A memory that makes his heart ache and burn; that makes his brain pound his skull from the inside. 

  “Where’d you get that - that coat you’re wearing?” Bill stuttered, something he hasn’t done in years.

  “A thrift store, why?” Y/n asked, slightly scared by Bill’s anger. She wondered if he’s always like this but by Eddie’s raised eyebrows and the distance he put between him and Bill, makes her think not.

 Bill rushed over to Y/n and gripped the color of the coat forcing Y/n forward. “Take it off, right fucking now!” Bill yelled.

  Eddie stood in place, “Bill calm down. I thought she’d be interesting for you to meet because she’s the reason Ben almost didn’t show up yesterday.” Eddie confessed, his eyes darting between Bill and Y/n. 

   Bill looked her up and down, and smirked. He was still angry but something else now fueled him, determination. If she was the reason the usually loyal Ben lied to the group then he’d make and example of her then. Oh yeah she could be the new member of the group and in a few hours, Ben will see why he shouldn’t lie to his friends.

  Y/n jerked back onto the couch then began to sit up, “I need to go. I’m sorry if I disturbed you...” She said stepping towards the front door.

  “Sit back down. You’re not going anywhere.” Bill grabbed Y/n’s coat again and flung her onto the coach.

  “Sit there and be good for a few hours alright? If you don’t we’ll have to punish you, harder.” Bill said with each arm placed on either side of the woman’s head.

  Hours later, a few other men arrived; all of which y/n has seen before. There was Mike, Stanley Eddie, Bill and Richie. Richie glared at her awhile, making snide comments here or there at her while she desperately searched for Ben who had yet to show up. 

  Richie looked out the window “Guys he’s here!” He yelled. 

  Bill nodded at Richie who grabbed Y/n by the arm, “You’re coming with me sweetheart.” Richie said, leading Y/n upstairs. 

  Y/n tried to struggle out of Richie’s grasp but he held on to her tighter. “If you don’t stop, I swear it’ll just be worse for you.” He tugged her all the way to a master bedroom and threw her on the floor.

   They had been followed by a group of footsteps and guys yelling at each other. Ben entered the room first and when he saw Y/n on the floor, he had Richie pinned against a wall.

  “What the fuck are you thinking, bringing her into this! She did nothing wrong!” Ben was furious, his grip on Richie tightened as he pressed his friend further into the wall. 

 Bill cleared his throat, “You lied to us Ben and you know what happens when you lie to your friends. Show him Richie.” 

Richie released himself from Ben’s grip and got on his knee’s next to Y/n. She knew she was in trouble. All the men were staring at her, some of the amused or hungry. Ben was held back by Mike and Stanley.  Richie grabbed onto the girls’ clothes and started taking them off. Y/n slapped his hands away and backed into the wall but she was caught by Richie who pulled her legs back closer to him. 

  “Stop messing around or I’ll just fuck you harder.” Richie said, not taking his eyes off her body.

  Tears brimmed Y/n’s eyes. She thrashed around, refusing to let this happen to her but it did no good. Richie and Bill seemed turned on by her resistance. And Richie finished peeling off the last bit of clothes she had on, revealing her soft flesh colored mounds that she covered with her arms. 

  “Grab her wrists, I want to see her body.” Bill demanded and Richie complied with a smile.

  Richie hands firmly held Y/n’s wrists as he undid his pants. The rest of the group was in awe. They hadn’t had a girl in so long that Y/n was a miraculous sight. Her feminine curves, her lush hair and pouty lips made their knee’s weak but they all stood still, ready to watch the show.

  Richie was mesmerized by Y/n too which made him angrier. Richie looked at Eddie whose eyes were only on Y/n. Richie dug his nails into the girls skin as he prepared to enter her; he placed a hand by her face and caressed her, long enough that he could enter her with a hard thrust. He closed his eyes as he felt the luxury she was. Y/n just cried out by the rough penetration. She was no virgin but she’d never been taken like this.

 Richie opened his eyes to the pretty girl beneath him, in pain. He pouted, some part of him was guilty but he enjoyed this lifestyle and he enjoyed being dominate. He started to move in her, the wave of comfort he felt with this girl did not co-exist peacefully with the side of him that wanted to ravish her into tomorrow. He sped up his thrusting, hitting her harder while his hands travelled up and down her body. Some of her cries turned into low moans and Richie wanted to her more of her, so he went faster.

 Richie’s mouth found one of her nipples and he began to suck the delicate area while she shuddered beneath him. Richie began to groan loudly while Y/n’s moans became more clear. She grabbed onto his back and held him while his hands gripped her hips in way that’ll leave a bruise. He continued to pound into Y/n until he felt the surge to end, if he went any longer, he wouldn’t have a choice; but he didn’t care and kept riding with her until he was done. 

  Both of them laid silently as Richie let every last drop of his cum dispose into Y/n. The guilt, still present didn’t top the satisfaction he felt from taking her however as he got up, the realization hit Y/n like a truck. What had just happened to her was unimaginable but here she was, naked with a man she barely knows on-top of her. 

 The tears fell without permission and Y/n tried to hide them with her hands. Everybody saw it but they put their pleasure before her being and turned the other way. Richie looked down at her and couldn’t exactly determine what he was feeling as she cried and he didn’t like it.

  “Pathetic.” Richie called Y/n. He grabbed his clothes and rushed out of the room not ever looking back.

 Bill strode to her, satisfied that the introduction of the newest member of the club turned out well. He’d have fun with this girl, they all would. Fuck her over and over again and she’d have to get use to it.

 Bill leaned down to Y/n. Her eyes were pleading but he wasn’t going to help her. “Welcome to The Lover’s Club.” Bill said, smirking.

  Y/n didn’t know what to think or what to say. She laid there hoping this was all a nightmare but it was real. And it would become her life.

[succubusphan]

Everything I Wanted

Summary: Dan dreams and dreams of what his life could have been if he had gotten everything he ever wanted - the what ifs that pale in comparisson to what he had now.

Based on the Billie Eilish song.

Rating: G

Word count: 4.9k

Tags: Mild Angst, fluff, established relationship, lots of love and support, My best attempt at being poetic with quite a bit of help. Mild references to homophobia.

A/n: This fic was written for @thoughtathought for winning the charity auction for Dan’s Birthday. Thank you so much for your donation and for being extra amazing! And thank you to @schnaf  for being my support and grammar beta and @icequeenjules26 for adding to the grammar and poetry aspect of the fic. Thank you both for your opinions and unthank you to both of you for roasting me (I’ll see you in hell.)

This is an accompanying piece to If I Ain’t Got You but can be read as a stand alone.

Read on ao3

Rain fell mercilessly upon the streets of Wokingham. Dan sighed and brushed a wet strand of hair out of his face - he hated this fucking weather. His hair was already ruined, but there was no way around it. He pulled his jacket tighter around his body and made his way to school. 

 Dan walked down the hallway of The Forest School confidently. For once in his life he was on time to meet his friends before the first lesson of the day. Some of the people standing off to the side waved at him as he made his way to their usual meeting point. He waved back with a smile even though he didn’t know them. He didn’t mind. It was normal for less popular students to look up to the more popular ones and want their attention in whatever form they could get; he honestly felt a bit bad for them. Luckily for Dan, he had fit into his group right from the start.

 He found them outside the library, as usual. Not because they used it, though. “We’re too cool for that,” Thatcher had said, so the group never went inside. In fact, Dan didn’t know what the inside even looked like. 

 He leaned against the wall, trying to look cool. “Hey, what’s up?”

 “Nice hair, Howell,” Thatcher said. 

 The rest of them laughed - as they usually did - but Dan didn’t mind, they were his friends after all. 

 Thatcher didn’t drop it, though. “You look like a drowned rat.”

 “Thank you, Thatcher! When I want to look like a wanker I’ll ask you for hair advice,” Dan elbowed him. 

 The group laughed even louder and that made Dan’s heart soar a bit; he enjoyed making people laugh like that.

 “Oi, at least I do well with the birds!” Thatcher laughed, wrapping one arm around Dan’s shoulders. “Are you going to call Lara back? She keeps asking.”

 “Uh, yeah. I- ” Dan tried not to let his smile falter. “I will, when it’s time… you know, you gotta let them wait so they want it more.” He winked and his friend roared with laughter again. This time he felt empty. He wasn’t going to call Lara, but he didn’t want to admit that. They accepted him as they knew him, a straight boy who did kind of well at school and was funny; a cool guy. They didn’t need to know that it wasn’t the truth - nobody did. 

 “Damn right! Smart move, Dan. Come on, let’s visit our little friend over there.” Thatcher pointed to a scrawny looking boy. 

 Dan didn’t speak to him, but he knew him. They sat together in math class. If Dan closed his eyes, he could see that shining black hair and those piercing blue eyes just as clear he saw them in front of him now… his rosy lips and long pale fingers tracing over Dan’s skin.

 He shut his eyes, dreading it already. He wanted to leave, he wanted to disappear off the face of the earth, but of course, he had no such luck. Thatcher grabbed his arm and pulled him along. Bullying was a mandatory group activity. 

 “What’s up, Gaylord? What’s it like being lord of the gays?” Thatcher spat. 

 Dan tried his best to seem invisible, to fall behind the rest; he didn’t want any part in this. 

 The guy, Richie was his name, rolled his eyes at them. “What’s it like being Lord of the ignorants? Will you need me to tutor you again, Thatcher? Will you start begging me to -”

 Thatcher’s fist cut him off. It wasn’t a real punch, Dan knew. Thatcher could do a lot more damage if he wanted to, but he seemed conflicted. 

“You have no right to speak to us like that. If you do it again, you will regret it.”

 Richie sighed in defeat. He suddenly looked much older. Dan felt like crying, but he didn’t - he couldn’t. Richie stared into his eyes with unshed tears; as if he knew. He knew that Dan was just like him, but he was also a coward. Someone who would rather be with the bullies instead of being their victim. 

 It was true, but he was their victim too, just in a different way. Richie wiped some blood from his lip and looked at it as if it was a foreign object, then back at Dan. ‘Aren’t you going to do anything?’ his eyes pleaded, but Dan just lowered his head.

 He felt as if the world was crashing down on him like a breaking wave, drowning him, suffocating him in the process, so he did what he usually did when nothing felt right: he ran. He turned around and exited through the back door. He could no longer keep the tears from falling; he was such a piece of garbage. He ran until his lungs felt like they were about to explode. Oh, he was going to be in so much shit for bailing, he was going to be found out, he was - 

 He reached the corner of the street and tried to set foot down on the pavement but he found no support so he fell and fell and fell, into a never-ending dark pit, swallowing him whole.

 Dan jolted awake, his heart pumping in his chest, he was covered in sweat and could feel tear tracks on his cheeks. He sluggishly wiped them off with the back of his hand and tried to calm himself with a breathing exercise. He looked to the right where  Phil laid at his side, undisturbed, and smiled.

 The sunlight coming in through the window formed something like a halo around him. Dan’s smile deepened as he examined Phil’s face - the face of the man that had been his companion for eleven years now. He saw their entire story on Phil’s face, in the signs of ageing he loved so much. The stray grey hair, the smile lines, they spoke of so many adventures, arguments, laughs and love; they reminded Dan of their history together, their history as partners, as best friends. 

 Phil pouted in his sleep and Dan’s heart swelled in his chest. He was so in love with him, even to this day. There was no other way to describe Phil than as his soulmate. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, the remnants of the nightmare gradually fading from his memory. 

 Dan shuffled closer to Phil and placed his head on his shoulder, softly running his nose against Phil’s neck and breathing in his scent. He smelled like home. 

 Phil started to stir, unconsciously pulling Dan closer to his chest with a hum. Dan kissed Phil’s neck, causing him to finally crack one eye open and look at him questioningly. Dan just kept running his fingers through his chest hair, absentmindedly tracing little patterns without a notice. 

 Phil smiled and closed his eyes again, scrunching his face at the sunrays blinding him. “Mmm?”

 “Good morning,” Dan whispered. 

 “Morning.” He placed a kiss atop Dan’s head. “Why are you awake so early?”

 “Mmm. A dream.” He pulled at Phil’s chest hair a bit too hard, making him wince. “Or more like a nightmare… Bullies.”

 Phil frowned and held him a little tighter. “Dan, you know they can’t get you anymore.”

 “I know.” He sighed.

 “Wanna tell me about it?”

 “I guess it was how things could have gone if I’d been able to pass as straight as a teenager. That was everything I wanted, to just fit in.” 

 Phil hummed in acknowledgement. “Did they still bully you?”

 “No, I wouldn’t say they did, but they did something worse.”

 Phil stayed silent, giving Dan the time to process what he wanted to say. 

 “I was weak. They pressured me into being like them. They bullied my friend, Richie. In the dream, he wasn’t my friend, but he was gay and he knew I was too. He looked at me when Thatcher punched him.” Dan’s voice quivered; he suddenly felt like crying again. He allowed himself a moment to breathe. “He was pleading with his eyes, asking me for help and I did nothing.”

 Phil ran his hand up and down Dan’s arm comfortingly. “You wouldn’t have been like them, Dan. You know that, I know you do.”

 “How do you know? How can you be so sure?” Dan lifted his head and looked into Phil’s eyes.

 Smiling, Phil laced their fingers together. “Dan, I know you. We’ve been together for over ten years. I know you better than you know yourself.”

 Of course, Dan settled back down without replying. He wanted to deny that. He knew that Phil was right, but part of him always told him that he was not as great as people seemed to think, that he was just a great pretender. 

 But Phil pulled him away from that thought process right away. “Why do you think you had that dream?”

 The sunlight shined through the room, reflecting off of their sparkly nicknacks. Colourful circles danced on the far wall, vibrant shapes and patterns that created the illusion of a magical world. Dan kept running his fingers through Phil’s chest hair and followed the lights with his eyes. 

 “I guess writing about my childhood brought some memories back, and some doubts too,” he finally said. He hadn’t actually thought about it. His mind had been a bit more prone to … distress since he dived into his past and his mental health. 

 “Yeah, that would do it.”

 “Yeah,” Dan smiled softly, closing his eyes and placing a kiss on Phil’s chest. 

 “So it’s not because you think you actually would have been like that,” Phil pushed.

 “No, it’s not,” Dan said, his voice barely above a whisper. 

 Phil cupped his cheek and guided his chin up, pressing a kiss to his lips, his jaw, his dimples, his eyelids. Dan sighed and allowed himself to be loved, to feel happy and supported. Nobody could take this away from him. He was safe now.

 --

 The hail smashed against the window of his 35th floor office, Dan looked out into the London sky with a heavy sigh. He had managed to push through university somehow, graduate at the top of his class and become a Senior Partner by 30. 

 He loved his career, he really did: the competitive aspect of it, the debate, and helping people. Sometimes he could even go as far as to say that he was happy, but most days he felt merely content. 

 Everyone had praised him for having so much drive and ambition, which was, in great part, the reason for his success, but sometimes he didn’t want any of it. 

 He had achieved what most people would want in life: A career, success, money, a loving boyfriend; but when he got home, when he crossed that door, he wanted to leave it all behind. He didn’t want to be a lawyer or discuss laws, or his cases, of the state of the world. He only wanted to be Dan; just Dan.

 He got on his Porsche and not five minutes later he was parked in front of his beautiful home. Then, he pushed the alarm button, locking it for the night and with the twist of a key, he was inside. 

 He removed his shoes by the door with a sigh and the noise of the TV coming from the lounge made him smile so he followed it. Richard sat on their sofa with his legs close to the side, gently moving his glass of wine in circles, letting the air mix with its contents. Dan walked up to him with a smile and cupped his cheek as he kissed his lips tenderly. “Hi,” he whispered against his boyfriend’s lips.

 “Hi,” Richard said immediately, letting his eyes return to the TV. “Why don’t you get changed? Dinner will be ready soon.”

 “Thank you, do you want to play Mario Kart while we eat?”

 Richard scoffed without even looking at him. “Dan, you know I do not like that sort of childish game and neither should you. You are a lawyer, and 30 years old at that. It’s time to grow up.”

 Dan’s smile vanished, he swallowed thick and his heart dropped to the pit of his stomach. “Right.”

 Richard heard it in his voice before Dan could say anything, he stretched his hand towards Dan and Dan held his out as well. Richard laced their fingers and pulled him onto the sofa. “I love you, Dan. I just think it’s time to let all those childish things go. We’re adults.” He ran his fingers on Dan’s chin gently. “And you, my love, need a shave.”

 Dan frowned; he felt so lost. He wanted to run. He was fed up with all the constrictions, the responsibilities, the eternal office hours and society’s demands on how he should behave. He just wanted to be happy, even for a little while. Why wasn’t that allowed? Why didn’t he have the right to play videogames and wear stupid pyjamas and have fun? He let out a heavy sigh. He felt so drained all of a sudden; if he’d had any energy, he would’ve cried, but he put on a little smile instead. “Could you shave me?” He asked. 

 Richard smiled widely. “Of course, love. Go change and meet me in the bathroom.”

 Dan smiled a little wider and went into their bedroom. It was their little thing, Richard liked to take care of Dan and Dan took care of him too. Maybe he was right, maybe Dan needed to stop wasting time. 

 Dan grabbed his pizza themed pyjamas, but then he shook his head, choosing to put on his Armani pair instead. Then, he grabbed all of his dorky pyjamas and video games and went into the kitchen; he stood beside the rubbish bin for a minute, finally shoving them in before he could regret his decision. The anime would be next, but that was a task for another day.

 He let Richard shave him, lost in thought with his head resting back on the chair. “Do you ever think about switching careers?”

 Richard raised an eyebrow at him and continued slowly dragging the razor on his chin.“No, of course not. Why?”

 “Sometimes I think this is killing my soul, like I’m slowly wasting away.”

 Richard stilled his hands. “Don’t be silly! And what would you do?” He asked with a smile before continuing.

 “I don’t know. I used to act; I’ve always loved theatre and comedy… something related to art, I guess.”

 Richard clucked his tongue and rolled his eyes with an amused smile. “Of course,” he kissed Dan’s head. “Tell you what, if you still want to do that when we retire, I will support you. What do you think?”

 Dan sank in his chair feeling even more empty than before. “Yeah, you’re right.” In a way, he was always acting to be the version of him that everyone expected.

 He stayed up until 4 that night, watching stand up comedy specials and dreaming of a better life that would never come. Maybe achieving your dreams was not all that people made it out to be. He wished he would have allowed himself to make mistakes, but now it was too late. He should have dropped out when he got the chance. Now he was trapped.

 Trapped was the first word clearly standing out in the jumbled mess that was Dan’s thoughts when he woke up.  He opened his eyes and tried to focus on his surroundings. He felt paralyzed, unable to move a single muscle, and a dull feeling of panic enveloped him like a heavy blanket, suffocating him; it rested on his chest like a boulder and made it hard to breathe. ‘Is this sleep paralysis?’. He blinked repeatedly, trying to make sense of the situation, until his eyes finally found what he sluggishly identified as source of his predicament: A very cuddly, sleeping Phil. 

 He was draped over Dan almost completely, his arms tightly wrapped around him and one of his legs tangled in Dan’s.

 Dan tried to move his feet, but that only caused him pins and needles. Disrupted by the movement, Phil wrapped his leg over his and hooked his foot behind his knee.

 Unable to contain himself, Dan snorted. Even in his sleep, Phil wanted to stake his claim on him. Dan sighed - he really loved that silly goose. Unbeknownst to most, Phil was also a cover hogger, which often left Dan feeling cold and vengeful. 

 Taking advantage of Phil’s state, he did the only thing he could think of: he rolled them back onto Phil’s side of the bed and smiled. Now it was his turn to wrap himself around Phil tightly and enjoy the warmth, but he used the covers to shelter them both from the chilly morning air. 

 The first rays of sun peeked above the horizon and Dan couldn’t help but feel incredibly grateful that he had pursued his career with Phil at his side - Phil, his partner in crime, his number one supporter, his companion through life. They had been a great duo for so many years, allowing them to grow as a pair but also as individuals in a secure environment. Now they got to stand beside each other in support and pride. 

 Phil hummed in his sleep as Dan caressed his arms softly, feeling the texture of the hairs there. It felt rough but comforting, like the pavement under the palm after a fall, reminding him he was still alive - overall, it felt real. It reminded him that even though his life felt like a dream, like a fairy-tale someone had written about his life, that was not what it was. It was his reality, no matter how unbelievable it seemed. 

 He sighed. This is what he wanted now. Cuddles in bed with his boyfriend, a career in a field he truly enjoyed, he truly felt himself in, and respect from the people in his life. He had it all, and he was well aware that without Phil’s love, support and encouragement he never would have made it. “Thank you,” he whispered into the quiet of the room, the words building up in his throat and breaking free entirely without his consent.

 “Mm?” Phil mumbled, not opening his eyes, obviously still in his dreamland.

 “Nothing, go back to sleep.” Dan smiled.

 “K. Make me breakfast.” Phil requested, clearly still asleep. “Don’t - let the unicorn eat Norman.”

“Ok, I won’t,” Dan said, dropping a kiss to his chest and settling back to sleep with a sigh. 

 --

 A fine snowfall accompanied his trip through familiar streets, but even the delicate, white flakes did little to turn the scenery more pleasing. They couldn’t cover the piles of old snow at the side of the road, the dirt making them look like a brown slush that just served to make Dan’s inner child very sad. 

 He still remembered when his dad filled his room with artificial snow for his birthday and they had an amazing time playing in it; their laughter had woken up his mom and baby brother who had joined their games. Everything had been perfectly white, but no such luck today.

 Returning to the family home for christmas was always an emotional ordeal and this time was no different. 

 He sighed happily, wiping off the taxi window with his finger to be able to see out. He couldn’t wait to see them all. Once the car reached its destination, he paid the driver and dragged his suitcase out of the trunk. Before he could make it to the door, his dad stepped out, smiling widely and ready to take his suitcase - not without giving him a hug first, though.

 “Hello, son. How was the trip?” his dad asked, already dragging the suitcase to the door.

 Dan shoved his hands in his pockets to shield them from the cold and smiled. “It was good, thank you. Where’s Mum?”

 “In the kitchen with grandma. Adrian went for a run in the woods with Colin.”

 Dan shook his head fondly. “Same as usual then. Popsy? Watching the TV?”

 His Dad laughed. “Yes, I’m afraid.” 

 They made their way inside and shut the door behind them. Robert took the suitcase upstairs while Dan shook his granddad’s hand and went to the kitchen to greet the rest of the family and receive some hugs. He had been craving them more than ever lately. 

 “Oh, Daniel, it’s so good to see you. Come here,” his grandma said, opening her arms for a hug. 

 Dan hugged her tightly. “Hi, I missed you so much.” He never wanted to let go. It was silly, but he felt emotional at being able to see his family again after six months. 

 “That’s easy enough to solve, come visit more often!” his mum said, her arms stretched for an embrace already. 

 Dan hugged her and placed his chin atop her head. “Hi, mummy. How are you?” 

 “Quite well, my dear, but we were looking for someone to help us with the cookies!” she said, stepping away and rubbing his arm. 

 Dan sighed and rolled his eyes with an amused smile. “Ok, but I want real butter.”

 “Ok, she laughed. “It’s in the fridge, let it soften on the counter.” 

 Dan nodded and started to work on the recipe he had been taught so many years ago. At this point it was more a matter of muscle memory than thinking, so he relaxed into his baker role. 

 His grandma placed a hand on his arm trying to get his attention. “Daniel, how is this semester going? Did you get the extension you wanted on that paper?” 

 “No.” He smiled tightly. “Everything is going well. I need to improve some grades but I think I can manage to keep my score.” 

 His mum scoffed. “Of course you can, you always do.” 

 “Certainly, that’s why we never worry about you. How is that boyfriend of yours doing?” 

 “Thank you, grandma.” He kissed her temple. “He is doing well, he is working on his thesis so he will be spending the holidays on campus.” 

 The conversation slowly dissolved but they continued to work in an enjoyable silence. 

 Once the tray was in the oven, Dan finally decided to go back to his old room and flopped onto the bed. He huffed and sat back up, reaching for his suitcase and getting his laptop out. 

 He settled against the headboard and pulled up the latest video from his favourite youtuber, amazingphil. Phil was so gorgeous and fun and smart. Sometimes Dan wondered what would’ve happened if he had actually replied to him on twitter. Sending that dm had been risky enough, so he had dropped it immediately. Besides, he’d had a boyfriend at the time. There had been no reason to go looking for someone else; it wasn’t like Dan to do something like that.

 Dan pouted, ‘Would we have gotten along? What if we would’ve actually become boyfriends?’ He snorted. That was ridiculous. It’s not like someone famous like Phil was going to be interested in Dan, and he had to go to Uni anyway. Once he arrived at campus and settled in, he felt less lonely. It was at university that he opened his heart again and met his current boyfriend. He pressed his lips into a line thinking about the horrible breakup with the previous one. Dan didn’t even like to mention him by name so everyone called him “Voldemort.”

 ’Would Phil have cheated on me? Would have he broken my heart?’ 

 Dan left his computer on the bed beside him and laid down, looking around at the rainbow decorations, some put up by him, some added by his mum after he left. The pictures of them at Pride as a family were his favourites, he was tempted to bring them back to campus with him.

 He was already dreading going back. Oh, how he wished he would’ve stayed a happy child forever, but the older he got the more his loving family expected of him. He was the first child, pampered to no end, every opportunity at his fingertips, and they expected nothing but the best from him. They told him that often enough. 

 They didn’t demand it of him, they just expected it, out of love and support for him. In his family’s eyes, there was nothing wrong that Dan could do, and failing uni was one of those things. So many times during high school he had secretly pulled all nighters to keep his grades up, but now, at university, it was completely different. He felt like he was constantly trying to catch up but he never did. 

 Every single aspect of his life was crumbling, his grades, his health, his relationship and… his mental health. He didn’t have a reason to be sad, he knew that. So many kids wished they had what he’d had all his life, but he was still struggling. He was caving under the pressure, it was pathetic. 

 His boyfriend was going to break up with him, he could feel it coming. His family had been so disappointed when his highschool boyfriend dumped him right before Christmas, they had had to return his presents and all. And now, they had a family vacation coming shortly but it seemed like Dan couldn’t hold a man - or find the right one - he didn’t know anymore.

 His phone dinged, he checked the notification wearily. It was his boyfriend. “This is not working, Dan. I think we need to talk.”

 There it was. Of course, he waited until Dan was away to do this. Dan felt like he was hyperventilating and for a moment he thought that he was going to faint but instead, he started sobbing. Everything looked hazy but he could make out the water coming in from all the windows and doors flooding his room the more he cried. He was drowning in his own sorrows. He stood in an attempt to escape, but before he could even call for help, he found himself in a lake, kicking, trying to swim towards the surface, but he could never reach it. His lungs hurt more and more with every passing second. 

 “Dan? Dan!” a comforting voice called him, he swam to it. A ray of light broke through the water. 

 “Dan, wake up,” the voice whispered.

 Phil brushed his lips against Dan’s face. Dan was crying in his sleep so Phil shushed him and tried to chase the tears away, leaving a trail of kisses as he whispered: “As long as I’m here no one can hurt you.”

 Dan stirred awake and held onto him, continuing to sob so desperately it scared even himself. Sadness rested on his chest like a body of water, like he was trapped at the sombre bottom of the ocean, slowly but steadily getting crushed by the pressure. 

 “What’s wrong?” 

 Dan shook his head and kept on weeping, clutching at Phil for dear life, as if he was the anchor that kept himself from floating away, from sinking even further down into the darkness.

 “Dan, talk to me. Please, you’re worrying me.”

 “Sorry,” Dan tried to let out between his sobs. He struggled to get a grip of himself, to calm himself down, but it still took him a few minutes. 

 “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Phil pressed their foreheads together. 

 Dan swallowed, but nodded. “I had another dream.” He settled onto Phil’s chest, both for comfort and to avoid the piercing stare that only served to rile him up further. 

 “A nightmare.”

 “Mhm. I was home for christmas and everything was perfect.” 

 “That doesn’t sound too bad, what happened?” 

 “They loved me, and accepted me and they thought I was the smartest guy ever.” 

 Phil hummed but let him continue. 

 “In the end, the pressure became too much. Even the fact that they accepted my boyfriend turned into something else they could judge me on.” He sighed and finally met Phil’s eyes. “And the worst part was that I never messaged you back on twitter. We never met. I kept bouncing from one unhappy relationship to another.”

 Phil raised his eyebrows at him but said nothing. 

 “So this boyfriend started to break up with me over text -” 

 This time, Phil interrupted him. “Ouch.” 

 Dan smiled softly. “Yeah, so I started crying and my room flooded. Water kept coming in from everywhere and then it turned into a lake, so I tried to swim but I couldn’t. I was about to drown, but then you called me and I followed your voice. It was like a ray of sunshine flickering through the water.”

 Phil grinned and tightened his hold on Dan. “I knew you loved me. So, what does it mean?” 

 “I think it relates to the other dreams - or nightmares. In each of them I get things I wanted throughout my life so I end up in a very different place than I am right now.” 

 “Would that be so bad?” Phil asked him. 

 “Yes. Everything is as it should be. If I could go back in time, I would do it all over again. There is no life I would rather have than what we have right now.” 

 “I love you so much,” Phil said and kissed him oh so sweetly, their lips barely touching, just letting them rest on his with the weight of a feather. 

 “Love you,” Dan mumbled into the kiss. And he did, he really did. As long as he had Phil’s love and support, he had everything he wanted. 

[just-jordie-things]

11 please! Or 34.

Kiss Prompt #34: Returned From The Dead Kiss

This was... really bad.  Probably the worst day of your life.  

Which was saying something, seeing as you were a teenager in the most boring town on earth, who was constantly bullied by a group of older boys and even had a clown that was also a demon terrorize you all summer.

Said clown was the root of all your problems- and currently the biggest one being that Richie wasn’t fucking waking up.

After you and the Losers had defeated It (or so you thought anyways) you’d preemptively cheered in victory, one to realize your resident trashmouth wasn’t cheering and group hugging with you all.  He’d been lying on the dirty ground, unconscious.

And now that you thought about it, you hadn’t even recalled him getting knocked down.  But you’d been fighting with everything you had, so focused on landing every blow to the clown, that you hadn’t paid much attention to the others at all.  

And oh you were so scared that you were going to pay dearly for that mistake.

You had probably yelled at him and shook his body in desperate attempts to wake him up for ten minutes before the Losers decided he needed to go to the hospital now and fast.

You were inconsolable, and it took Ben prying you off of the unconscious man and holding you firmly in his arms to get you to stay off of Richie’s body. You’d pleaded with the others that you should be the one to carry him, but Mike and Bill were already doing so, not even entertaining the idea of your tiny ass lugging Richie out of the sewers.  There was just no way you could do it.

It felt like days that you sat in the waiting room, doing just that, waiting.  It had only been a few hours since Richie had been admitted, but having not heard a peep from the doctor or the nurses was starting to scare you.

You were shaking in your seat, hunched over with your elbows on your knees, and your hands wrapped tightly together as you stared off at nothing.  Just waiting.

Beverly had stayed by your side the whole time, while the others took turns making trips to the hotel for showers, or to bring lunch back for everyone.

Meanwhile you hadn’t showered, you hadn’t eaten, and dear lord you needed them both.  You looked like shit, probably because you just fought a demon clown in a sewer, and you hadn’t eaten since the day before.

But you weren't hungry.  And you weren’t about to go shower just for Richie to wake up and you weren’t there.

Nope.  You needed to be here.  And that’s what you kept telling your friends as they tried to convince you otherwise.  They did everything they could, bargained, begged, Ben even tried bribing you, but you ignored it all.

“I have to be here when he wakes up” 

Beverly understood, that’s why she stayed right next to you, looking like she’d been through hell and back, just like you.  She’d hold your hand, or rub your back, she’d even untangled your messy hair with her fingers.  Anything to comfort you, and help pass the time.

Beverly had known that you’d been in love with Richie since the dawn of time.  Since you were kids, all through your teen years, and even now, after having been separated for ages, you were still in love with him, and to her it was clear as day.  Therefore she knew that you were slowly dying, with every hour that passed.

She figured the others were starting to realize it too, because they’d stopped whining and pleading for you to take a break, and one by one sat with you and comforted you to the best of their ability.

It didn’t exactly help, but it was kind and you still appreciated it.

After six hours of sitting uncomfortably, with your head on Bev’s shoulder, and a jacket that Ben had brought for you draped around you like a blanket, a nurse finally approached.

“Are you the folks here for Richard Toz-”

“Yes! Yes, that’s us” You'd answered before she could even finish, sitting up straight and staring at her expectantly.

“He’s finally stabilized, and looks to be in good condition.  It’ll be quite a process to heal but...”

She continued to explain that his vitals were at normal levels, and went more in depth to what that all meant medically, but you couldn’t hear anything past good condition.  

The waterworks started up again, and you shamelessly cried tears of relief that he was at least okay.

“When can we see him?” Beverly asked for you, and she rubbed your back again.

“You’re free to go in now if you’d like, he’s not awake yet, but he should be waking up soon when the anesthetics wear off,” The nurse said.  “But... I should warn against all of you going in...” She glanced among the six people in the waiting room who were all huddled together.  “He’s going to be very out of it when he wakes up, and any loud noises or... a group of people... might be too stressful to take in all at once”

“That’s okay, thank you” Beverly said, and patted your back as she nodded to you.

“Me?” You asked, sniffling and wiping your eyes.

“Yes, you,” She spoke with a gentle teasing tone.  “Of course you” 

You looked to the others, making sure they were okay with you going in.

“Yeah, (y/n),” Ben nodded, giving you the okay.  “He doesn’t want to wake up to see any of us anyways” He added, making you smile for just a moment.

You nodded your head, and stood up, following the nurse down the hall to Richie’s room.

“This is it,” She stopped at a door shortly, and you took in a deep breath.  The woman's expression softened as she gave you a smile and nodded her head.  “Don’t worry, he should wake up very shortly” 

“Thank you” You breathed out, and finally opened the door.

Your breath caught in your throat as your eyes landed on him.  He looked horrible, tied up to all these machines, passed out on a surely uncomfortable cot.

But the heart monitor was still beeping.

And the rise and fall of his chest was short but at least it was movement.

You rushed as quietly as you could to grab a chair from the wall, and drag it up to the side of his bed, so you could be right there when he awoke.

“I’m so sorry,” You whispered softly, your fingers mindlessly playing with the thin blanket that laid over him.  “I should have done something, I’m so sorry, Richie,” 

He didn’t say anything, he was still asleep, but that was alright.  You just needed to get it off of your chest.

“I didn’t know that I had to protect you... all these years I thought you proved you could handle your own but... I guess it’s been a while since we’ve fought a demon clown together, huh?”

A small, humorless chuckle left your lips, and you shook your head as you looked away from him.

Your eyes landed on his glasses, which had a small crack of them, laying on a small table.  You took them and placed them carefully over his face.  You wanted him to actually see you when he woke up.

“I hope it doesn’t hurt,” You continued to talk to him.  “When you wake up.  I hope the medicine lasts a little longer...”

Tentatively, you reach for his hand, pulling it towards you and wrapping both of your hands around it.

You blinked away tears, because you didn’t want the first thing he saw to be you crying.  But it was hard to hold them back.

“The others told me I should be the first one to see you,” You told him quietly, and pressed your lips against his knuckles.  “I hope that’s okay... truth is I... I needed to tell you that... that um...” 

“That you’re deeply in love with me?” 

Your eyes shot up, surprised to meet his, and a stupid smirk he had on his face even though he’d literally just woken up.

“Richie-” 

“Hey, sweetness” He greeted, his voice rough and raspy, not that you minded one bit, you were just glad to hear it.  Despite his scratchy throat it still had that Richie charm.

“You were dead” You whimpered, and he gave your hand a faint squeeze.

“Well I’m alive now aren’t I?” He asked with a weak chuckle.

You sniffled as tears streamed down your cheeks, a watery smile on your lips.

“But I really thought that you’d died,” You cried. “I thought that you- that- that I just let you-”

“It’s alright, it doesn’t matter,” He spoke up before you could get too carried away.  “Because I’m not dead, see?” He squeezed your hand again, this time with a little bit more strength.  “Worry not sweetness, I’m around for the long haul”

Your smile widened, even though you were crying, but they were tears of happiness.  Holding his hand tighter between yours, you held it against your cheek as you leaned onto his bed more.

He gave you a gentle smile.

“I’m glad you’re the first thing I woke up to,” He mumbled, even getting you to laugh softly as you shook your head.  “Come here,” 

Shyly, you leaned closer to him, but only a few inches, which wasn’t enough.

“A little closer sweetness” Richie chuckled, and you hesitantly inched closer, until your nose prodded against his, and your eyes slipped shut.

His hand loosened out of your hold, cupping your cheek and guiding you to meet his lips.  It was a gentle kiss, you were just so nervous that you’d do something to hurt him, but it was perfect.  It was enough to make your feelings known.

When you pulled away you took his hand from your face and laced your fingers together sweetly.

“I’m deeply in love with you too, you know” He told you, and you did your best to bite back a smile.

“I never said that” You mumbled playfully.

“Ah, but you were thinking it” He shot right back, leaning his head against his (horribly stuffed) pillow.

Your thumb brushed overtop of his in a calming motion, and you noticed his knuckles were just as swollen and bruised as yours.

“Have been for a while now” You whispered out, making him smile as he shut his eyes to rest.

“Me too, sweetness”

[caesarclowningaround]

I was tagged by @flightsofwonder! Thanks dearie!! This was interesting and fun!

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

Felt With the Heart (MCU, 1123 words) Jane fiddled with the skirt of her dress for the thirtieth time. 

The Pure and Simple Truth (MCU/Mr. Robot, 2500 words) Gods and monsters. It’s all real. Who knew? For some reason, Elliot wasn’t at all surprised as he stared across the room at the ‘god’ before him. 

Next Stop (Good Omens, 620 words) It wasn’t that Crowley meant to smack his shoulder into the other man’s as he walked through the subway car… but he meant to. 

voulez-vous coucher avec moi? (2019!Aladdin/2017!Beauty and the Beast, 1163 words) Adam could have anyone he wanted. This wasn’t just hubris, it was a fact. 

Shadows (Trouble in the Heights, 561 words) The room is a swirling mass of color and fabrics. 

my happy ending is right next to me (IT movie franchise, 246 words) Richie couldn’t wait to dive into the champagne at the reception. 

Baking Without Flour (Good Omens, 961 words) Aziraphale wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he entered Crowley’s apartment, but he at least expected that he’d be unpacked by now.  

Violet Skies (2019!Aladdin/2017!Beauty and the Beast, 42622 words (and counting)) Another day, another suitor. This one was from the far west with flowered silks and bright pastels. Prince Adam from France. 

Horizon (Star Wars, 1397 words) It was so different than anything Armitage could have imagined. And oh, he had imagined.

the booze and the bell chimes (2019!Aladdin/2017!Beauty and the Beast/2015!Cinderella, 6272 words) 11:00 AM - 6 HOURS BEFORE THE WEDDING “BOOTY BOOTY BOOTY BOOTY ROCKIN’ EVERYWHERE” Jafar nearly jumped out of bed, his heart pounding in time with the pounding in his head. 

The Dream (MCU/Loki: Where Mischief Lies, 602 words) There is pain as he feels the grip tighten around his throat. He struggles for air, knowing it to be futile at this point. Then, a sharp crack of agony… and he’s gone.

Submerge (Star Wars, 8750 words) His father had warned him many times as a boy to stay away from the Dark Shoals. When Kylo took to the sea as an adult, still his father warned him that morning.

Good at Waiting (2019!Aladdin/2017!Beauty and the Beast, 618 words) Adam wasn’t sure where he was at first. But as the world came into focus around him, he remembered. He remembered dinner the night before, celebrating their six-month anniversary. 

Boom, Clap! (Crash Pad/MCU, 12175 words (and counting)) I need to lay off the weed. It certainly wasn’t the first time Stensland had thought this (or even attempted to put the thought into action soon after), much less the first time he had thought it the moment he had woken up from some batshit crazy trippy dream.

The Ocean Under the Moon (2019!Aladdin/They Call Me Jeeg, 1525 words (and counting)) Fabio had a weird, mostly unknown love for thrift stores. 

a lil something (2019!Aladdin/2017!Beauty and the Beast, 728 words) Jafar’s phone vibrates in his pocket for the second time in the past ten minutes. 

Love is a Battlefield (The Old Guard, 1328 words) There was an excitement in the air as they all stood in formation. Syrus pawed at the ground, his hoof kicking up grass and dust that hung around his legs. 

when push comes to shove (2019!Aladdin/Trust, 1371 words) It had started with Jafar grabbing fistfuls of Primo’s ass and a mocking comment about how thin his pants were, which somehow had led to Jafar assuming Primo wasn’t wearing anything under the blue trousers. He assumed correctly.

play us an encore (2019!Aladdin/2017!Beauty and the Beast, 2400 words) “Open your robe.” Jafar didn’t move from where he was standing in the bathroom doorway. Dressed in only his silk red robe, he stared back at Adam, who was smiling in a way that Jafar couldn’t read.

break the bubble (2019!Aladdin/2017!Beauty and the Beast/2015!Cinderella, 1092 words) “Love is like a bomb, baby, c’mon get it on…” The lights flashed as three gorgeous men walked onto the stage, lip synching with the loud lyrics of Def Leppard's "Pour Some Sugar on Me" playing over the speakers. 

Analysis:

First of all, the fact that 11/20 of these are crossovers is pretty telling of what my favorite thing to write is. Most are either Aladdin crossovers or Marvel crossovers (and involve either Jafar or Loki, respectively) so there’s that.

This list goes back about two years, which is interesting because in the past two years I’ve been working on bigger projects most of the time. Notice how most of these fics are under 2k? Most of these started as small fic prompts or 2am spur-of-the-moment ideas and the longer ones are the more self-indulgent fics.

5 of these fics start with a line that’s mostly used to catch a reader’s attention before a tag, which is then followed by a bit of exposition or action. Twice I use song lyrics as a way of grabbing attention because the POV of the character is also having their attention grabbed.

Several times I just jump right into a character’s POV and begin with them thinking about something or essentially telling the reader “what is happening is normal” or “what is happening is not normal” depending on the situation. It’s also sometimes a quick recap or the statement of a fact about our POV character.

Most of the time, I just jump right into the action to get the story moving. I’ve noticed I prefer to do this over giving a description of where we are. If I do give a description, it almost always comes after the opening line. With the exception of Shadows, none of these opening lines are a setting description.

I really do have a thing for crossovers, especially the weird ones LOL I just love the idea of two different worlds connecting in some way and having the characters themselves connect on another level. D*sney’s been crossing over their stuff since well before I was even born, so while it’s not surprising to see a disney crossover fic, I do think there’s something to writing that odd lil ship I’ve written about 7 fics for (dang!)

I tend to deal with themes of forbidden love in various ways and how the characters make those connections despite the fact they shouldn’t be together. Whether it’s as simple as unrequited romance, or they’re enemies, or they’re not necessarily enemies but they really shouldn’t be together... and yet they always find a way. IDK maybe I’m just a romantic at heart who loves seeing love stories about love conquering all. But that being said, the obstacles these characters face aren’t typical ones?? Like, from this list at least, love triangles aren’t something I’m interested in, but if there is a third party (like in Violet Skies) the third party is never really considered to be a “threat” to the main couple. 

That’s probably another reason why I dig crossover ships, because they inherently shouldn’t be together. they’re from vastly different worlds with maybe one or two things in common (like genre or setting or a character detail or just a vibe).

Or I’m just here to have fun and I’m dragging these characters into the fun zone whether they like it or not :P

But really, all of these are love stories in some way or another. Not that I’ve never written gen fic and I love reading gen fic! But I guess my fave fics to write are the shippy stuff. I just enjoy exploring these types of relationships, despite whether or not they “should” be together. Heck, a couple of these do not have happy endings nor should they. It’s really interesting seeing exactly how drawn to that stuff I am.

FAVE OPENING LINE This is kind of a weird thing to say, but I really don’t care a lot of my opening lines most of the time. I think they are what they need to be, but they don’t hit me the way they should? Some of these I kinda wish I could go back and change, though that’s mostly cuz out of all the lines in each of these fics the first lines I’ve read and reread the most. So it’s mostly me being my own worst critic, but I think my best writing comes more in the middle and ends of my fics, not the beginnings. 

That said, I gotta go with Violet Skies: Another day, another suitor. This one was from the far west with flowered silks and bright pastels. Prince Adam from France.

This is one of those opening lines I’d never change. The fic starts off from Jafar’s POV and he is bored of these princes coming and going and starting this big fic off with him being like “here we go again” with this basic description of Adam is exactly where the fic needed to start, so by the time the reader gets to the end of the first chapter, we know this is definitely not “here we go again” with Prince Adam~

TAGGING: @pigsinablanketfort, @heroofshield, @thenightisfullofangels, @raptorwhisperer, @theresatvjoe, aaaaaaand anybody else who wants to do it!!!!

[katecarteir]

I want these words to make things right (but it's the wrongs that make the words come to life)

pairing: eddie kaspbrak/richie tozier [reddie] rating: teen & up word count: 10,531 summary: Richie Tozier runs an anonymous tip for superheroes in the town of New York City. Sounds like a great idea, until you throw in the ex boyfriend superhero he's still in love with, and the weird blue eyed man who somehow figured out the man behind the blog ⤹ a NOT birthday fic for the lovely leigh (@s-s-georgie) 

perma taglist: @jwilliambyers, @stebbins, @isaacslaheys, @s-s-georgie, @transrich@eddiefuckinkaspbrak, @edstozler, @emgays, @anellope, @thorn-harvester-ven, @wheezyeds, @vipertooth, @tozierking, @billdenbrough, @starrystoziers, @trashmouthtozierr, @willelbyers​ @itfandomprompts, @loserslibrary (let me know if you want added!)

read on ao3

Spotted!: The one and only FlyBoy, rescuing not one, not two, but six students of New York University from a late night fire in the little coffee shop down on Old Broadway. Damages to the building were extensive- and it’s going to be closed for a very long, unknown future- but nobody was harmed thanks to our very own eye in the sky. FlyBoy, we salute you and I think we can speak for everybody when we say that we sleep better knowing you’re out there. 

Richie sent out the blast, still smiling at his phone. He’d barely even opened his eyes when he’d rolled over to grab his phone, which wasn’t anything abnormal. Richie ran one of the most popular blogs in New York City, completely anonymously. It had started out as his own interests, keeping taps on all the iconic heroes of their great and crime ridden city. It had quickly grown in regular viewers and subscribers, everybody realizing how coinvient it was to one location with all the information. More reliable information than the actual news, if Richie did say so himself.

“Really? FlyBoy again?” Richie’s roommate, Beverly Marsh, barged into Richie’s bedroom without knocking. “Don’t you think you’re getting a little too hung up on this guy? You’re running an update blog, not a FlyBoy fanblog.”

“FlyBoy is the guy to watch for.” Richie shrugged as he rolled out his bed, reaching out blindly for his glasses that he’d left on his bedside table. Beverly was standing at the edge of his bed with her hands on his hips. “Why are you looking at me like that, Mom?”

Beverly grabbed an NYU crewneck off the floor and threw it over his head. “FlyBoy isn’t the only superhero in the city, Richie! You’re falling off your brand and you’re going to lose your following. And in case you hadn’t noticed, your following pays most of our bills.” 

Richie rolled his eyes. He grabbed his lucky jeans off the floor and slipped into them without changing his boxers, getting a little too much enjoyment out of Beverly’s cringe. “Would you chill out? I’m still just reporting the news, Bev. It’s not like anything else happened last night.”

“Dr Incredible stopped a bank robbing,” Beverly pointed out without even needing to look at her phone. “You didn’t say anything about that. Not to mention- Captain Fast literally saved an entire family from plunging off a bridge in their car last night. You know, Eddie Kaspbrak? Your best friend? The love of your life? I think maybe that would be a little newsworthy, don’t you?”

Richie scraped his black curls into a bun at the top of his head and started throwing textbooks into his backpack. “Beverly, I have had my eyes open for all of ten minutes, and seven of them have been you lecturing me on how to run a blog. I will post the rest of the events from last night and anything that happened this morning on the way to class that I need to go to. Because I have a life, so unless you wanna take over all the blog responsibilities… get off my dick.” 

Beverly scoffed as Richie pushed past her out the door to his room, shouting at him that there was brewed coffee on the counter even as they both knew that Richie was going to be stopping at Starbucks for something that was more sugar and syrup than actual caffeine. 

Richie went to the same Starbucks every morning before class, and every evening after classes let out. Stanley from his Psychology 101 worked there, and he never failed to give Richie shit about his nasty habits. He was a scrawny man, with tight curls. He was always well dressed under his work apron, light coloured button ups and pressed jeans. He always looked so put together and proper that Richie wanted to frazzle him and mess him up completely.

Stan’s customer service happy expression dropped into a look of disdain. “You’re back. Again.”

“Everyday, Stanny, you know me.” Richie leaned against the counter and winked at the unimpressed barista. Stan turned away from him, putting Richie’s regular order into the register. “Gotta get that caffeine fix.”

“I’d hardly call this caffeine by any means.” Stan let out a scoff as he finished ringing up the order. Richie handed Stanley the cash, and tried to chase the barista down the line in the process of making Richie’s entirely familiar order.

“You can’t lean over the counter like that.” Stan said in a low, bored tone. “You know, you’re lucky it's in my job description to be nice to you.” 

Richie chuckled, watching as Stan applied a double spray of whipped cream that Richie certainly hadn’t paid for. “If this is you being nice to me, I would hate to see you mean.”

“Yes, you would.” Stan placed Richie’s pale drink down onto the counter and slid a straw over to Richie without Richie needing to ask. Richie grinned, and took a long, overly dramatic sip before turning away. He nursed the drink throughout his short walk to his campus building, and tossed it- half finished- into the garbage before ducking into his lecture hall. He slid into his regular seat in the far left side of the hall, then frowned as somebody sat down on the other side of him. 

It was a cute enough guy, with soft brown hair that flopped into his face. His eyes were an icy blue and there was a scar running through one eyebrow. Richie felt goosebumps jump up on his forearms as the boy stared at him.

“You’re R-R-Richie T-Tozier, right?” Bill said, voice pleasant even in the low tone. It soothed Richie in an odd way, and he felt himself lowering his guard even as he wondered why he was doing it. 

“Yeah…” Richie said slowly, lifting his pen towards his mouth and biting down on the bottom end. “And you are?”

“My name is B-B-ill.” He said, before glancing over his shoulder. He bit down on his bottom lip and leaned in closer to Richie’s space. “You’re the runner of Spotted!, right? The superhero tracker blog?”

Richie blinked at him. His teeth threatened to break through the plastic of his pen. He cleared his throat awkwardly and looked forward at the professor, droning on about something Richie couldn’t care less about, especially with how his heart was pounding in his chest. “Sorry, man. I think you’ve got the wrong guy.” 

Even as Richie refused to let his gaze waver from the front of the room, he could feel how Bill’s eyes continued to burn into the side of his head. “Well.” Bill said, voice somehow seeming much closer to Richie’s ears than he felt it should be. “If you a-ar-are the m-man behind the sc-screen, I th-thought you sh-should know that Pr-Professor Fly will make an app-appearance tonight.”

Richie jerked his head to look at Bill, but the other guy was already standing and making his way through the lecture hall. He didn’t even turn around as Richie unabashedly stared at him. Professor Fly had once been the biggest, most known superhero on the NYC scene. Along with the flight powers that his name implied, he’d also been strong and fast. He’d had a plethora of powers, so many it was beyond abnormal. Nearly three years ago, Professor Fly had stepped onto the scene with a mentee- none other than FlyBoy- and only six months after that he’d completely dropped off the face of the Earth. FlyBoy continued to work in the city, and make a bigger and bigger name for himself, but Professor Fly had not been seen in over two full years. 

It was juicy information, no doubt. The kind that made Richie’s stomach tense up and his palms sweat. If Professor Fly was coming out of retirement, that could only mean somehow seriously Bad was on the scene. But Richie didn’t run a gossip blog, and he would never post something he didn’t have any proof on. Not even something as huge as a potential Professor Fly comeback.

Spotted! Just a little  recap of last night’s busy activities in the city that never sleeps: Dr Incredible bringing a bank robbery to a skidding halt, making sure all our favourite rich bitches and Wall Street moneybags have their millions safe for another day! Thanks, dude! And OF COURSE, the adorable and flawless Captain Fast saving an entire family from certain doom, and looking absolutely mouth watering in that spandex as always while doing it. Keep it up, babe. The public loves you :*

“RICHIE!”

Richie hardly reacted as the apartment door busted open and Eddie Kaspbrak stormed into the living room. His hair was damp, flattened to his forehead from the rain outside. The same rain that had left stains all over his grey NYU shirt and blue jeans. His fists were tightened at his sides, and he looked absolutely adorable.

“How can I be of service, dear Edward?” Richie asked, punching at the buttons of his xBox controller. Eddie stomped forward and grabbed it from his hands, tossing it across the room. “Hey! What the fuck?”

“You can’t fucking flirt with me on your stupid blog!” Eddie cried, running his hands through his hair. “Okay? People are gonna… they could figure out who you are if you keep doing that!”

Richie sat up straight on the couch. “Okay, do you know how little sense that makes, right? I make flirtatious comments about every hero I post about. Except Dr Incredible, I think guys a fucking sham.” Eddie rolled his eyes as Richie carried on over him. “And even if I did flirt with you more than the other heroes, they’d still need to know who you are to connect the dots to me. So take a breath. If you don’t want people commenting on your spandex, don’t wear it.”

“This isn’t about spandex.” Eddie said, though Richie could see that the anger he’d been wrapped up in when he’d come into the apartment was quickly seeping out of him. “This is about you. I don’t want you in danger, Richie.”

“You’ve made that beyond clear, Eds.” Richie stood and stretched his hands above his head. “It’s pretty much all I’ve heard from you.”

“Rich…” Eddie said sadly, but if there had been anything further to that sentence it evaporated right from Eddie’s mouth. 

Eddie and Richie were diaper buddies, a real sandbox love. Richie couldn’t remember a point in his life without Eddie in it. They’d grown up inseparable, and Richie still remembered vividly when they’re relationship had begun to grow into something more. Junior year of high school, when Richie finally, finally found the nerve to ask Eddie out on an official date. And the next couple weeks after that were bliss in a way that Richie had never known. Until suddenly, Eddie had started blowing him off. Cancelling dates, and dodging Richie’s calls. When Richie had moved to confront Eddie about his behaviour, to beg him to at least end it and not keep him hanging on, Richie had learned the truth of Eddie’s powers. Apparently, it ran in his family and his mother had tried her hardest to keep it from Eddie, in desperate hopes that Eddie would be different but the powers can come nonetheless. Some smaller ones- a heightened sense of touch, and an acute sense of knowledge of a person or object by touch which Richie lovingly called his Vibe Checks- and of course, his speed. Eddie had always been a fast runner, ever since they were kids, and he had been shaping up to be a big track star before the Powers had appeared to him. Afterwards, however, Eddie could run the length of the entirety of the country in mere seconds. 

They’d stayed up together that whole night, talking and crying and kissing, and they’d felt so good about everything. Richie thought having a superhero boyfriend was maybe the coolest thing that could ever happen to anybody, even if he wasn’t allowed to tell another living being. While still living in Derry, things hadn’t been so different with Eddie having powers. Things really changed when they moved out to New York City. Richie had always known Eddie was a good person, the best person, but he’d never accounted for how Eddie’s powers would come into play when they were suddenly in a city with other Supers and a sky high crime rate. 

They’d tried to make it work, Richie beyond supportive in Eddie’s crime fighting causes. (Hello, superhero boyfriend? Still the coolest shit ever!) but one misstep, one single incident where Richie’s safety had been put on the line, and Eddie had stopped them in their tracks. It hadn’t even been because of Eddie’s identity, Richie had been in a strictly wrong place wrong time sort of situation but Eddie had lost it. Claimed that their relationship was a liability for Eddie, that Richie was Eddie’s biggest weakness and that Eddie couldn’t risk Richie’s safety like that. Richie had argued tooth and nail, claiming that breaking up didn’t mean that they weren’t in love and that Eddie shouldn’t be giving up his personal life for these powers but it had fallen on deaf ears. Eddie had packed up his belongings and left their shared apartment. They’d tried to stay friends, but the love between them kept things strained. 

Richie padded into the kitchen and grabbed a can of pop from the fridge. He offered one up to Eddie, who shook his head as Richie knew that he would. He hopped up onto one of the seats on the counter and stared Eddie down. Eddie leaned forward on his elbows. 

“We can’t keep having this same argument, Richie.” Eddie said in his prim and rehearsed voice. “It’s not because I don’t love you-”

Richie squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head quickly. “God, you just said we can’t keep this argument. I don’t need to hear this fucking speech again. You gave it to me when we broke up, you gave it to me six months ago on my birthday after we got drunk and-” Richie broke off and exhaled hard. “I’m sorry I talked about your spandex on my blog, I’ll try to tone down the flirting when I talk about you.”

“No.” Eddie sighed, resting his chin in his hands. “I overreacted. You didn’t say anything you wouldn’t have said about anybody else on there. And you’re right, people would need to know who I am to connect you to me. And nobody knows who either of us are.”

Richie blew out a long breath, flicking his thumb against the tab of his pop can. “Actually, Eds… somebody might know who I am. So, yeah, I should be more careful when talking about you on there. You’re the one who was right as usual.”

Eddie’s mouth dropped open and he pushed away from the table to round on Richie. He grabbed him by his shoulders and forced Richie to meet his gaze. “Richie. What are you talking about.”

“I’m not really sure, honestly, it was weird.” Richie ducked out of Eddie’s touch, frowning as the memory of his class that morning washed back over him. “It was some.. Guy in my theory of screenwriting lecture? He just sat down beside me and he addressed me by name and then asked if I was the one who wrote Spotted!. I told him I wasn’t, because you and Bev are both always on my ass about keeping it a secret, and then he told me…”

Richie stopped and looked up at Eddie. Eddie stared back at him, holding Richie’s eye line longer than he had in the two years since they’d called an end to their romantic relationship. “What, Rich? What did he say?”

“He said that Professor Fly would be making an appearance tonight.”

Eddie’s expression remained blank for several moments before the usual chaotic energy took him back over. “Why would he say that? How does he know that? How does he know you? There’s no way that’s true, nobody has heard anything from Professor Fly for almost three years. Not even FlyBoy knows where he is, he’s retired. There’s nothing he’d come back for, not unless it was the end of the world big. Is this the end of the world big? Richie?”

“I don’t know, Eds. He didn’t give me an itinerary for the night's events.” Richie said. “I think he just wanted me to post it on my blog like I’m some sort of gossip column. It’s not a big deal.” But Eddie didn’t look convinced and Richie could practically hear the little hamster wheel in his head running. “Unless you know something that’s going to happen tonight?”

“No.” Eddie said immediately, shaking his head. “I haven’t heard anything besides minor crimes and car accidents the last couple weeks. It’s been… almost too calm. I don’t like the sound of this guy, Richie, and I definitely don’t like what he’s suggesting. I’m gonna- I’m gonna talk to some people. Don’t leave this apartment and don’t post on Spotted! until I get back.” 

“You’re not my boss!” Richie cried as Eddie tore out of his apartment like a tornado. 

Eddie returned quickly, as Eddie was prone to do. He stumbled into the apartment as dusk began to settle outside, a tray of coffees in his hands. “Okay, we only have a few hours to figure this out.” 

Beverly had been just getting into the apartment when Eddie had come in and nearly crushed her behind the door. She frowned as Eddie handed her one of the steaming paper cups and somebody came into the apartment behind him.

“Stan from Starbucks?” Richie asked with a frown, watching as Stan and another tall, black man he didn’t recognize came into his apartment. “Eds, I get you wanted coffee or whatever but you don’t need to bring the store back with you.”

Stan placed the only non-hot beverage down onto the counter. “I’m going to tell you something, and you need to promise not to be weird about it.” Richie stared at Stan with his drink raised half way up to his lips, and Stan let out a low sigh. “I’m FlyBoy.”

Richie whipped around to glare at Eddie, pointing an accusing finger at his chest. “FlyBoy has been Stan from Starbucks this entire fucking time, and you didn’t think to tell me that?”

“It isn’t exactly my secret to tell anybody.” Eddie said with a chill to his voice. “And honestly, even if I could have told you, I wouldn’t have. You have a weird crush on him and the last thing we need is you running off and getting some high stress relationship with a superhero.”

A superhero who isn’t me. Eddie maybe didn’t say it, maybe wasn’t even aware that he’d implied the words at all, but Richie heard them perfectly clear. Richie scoffed, dropping his drink onto the counter and stepping away from the group just slightly. “You don’t really get any say in who I do or don’t like, Eddie. It’s actually none of your business at all.”

“It is if it’s something that’s going to put you in danger, Richie!” Eddie snapped back, hand cutting through the air. A manic gesture of Eddie’s that Richie usually found cute, but could only manage to find irritating in this moment. “You put yourself in harms way enough with this stupid blog and just even knowing me, I would never let you-”

“Let me? Let me?” Richie chuckled humorlessly. “You are not the boss of me, Eddie. You’re not my parents, you’re my boyfriend. So, thank you very much for all the over the top concern about whether or not I’m getting myself into trouble but I’m going to have to politely tell you to mind your fucking business for once in your life.”

Eddie gaped at him, almost forming words before losing them again. The black man who had come into the apartment with Eddie and Stan cleared his throat. “I’m sorry but this seems like a pretty serious personal issue, and we have something important we need to handle, so...”

“Yes.” Eddie said, voice cracking. Richie glanced at him and tried not to let the hint of tears that were pooling in Eddie’s eyes. “Richie, this is Mike Hanlon. You probably know him as-”

“Freezie.” Mike held his hand out and Richie only hesitated for a moment before Mike laughed. “Don’t worry, man. I have to actually want to turn you into ice for it to happen. Though I do have some horror stories when I first started developing my powers, I’m not gonna lie.” 

“Mr Medusa.” Richie said with a grin, gripping Mike’s hand firmly and giving a body moving shake.  Mike gave a laugh while both Stan and Eddie rolled his eyes at his antics. 

“You know how misleading that nickname is, right?” Stan asked dryly. “Mike turns people to ice with his hands, Medusa turned people to stone by looking at them and her head full of snakes. It’s really not even that close of a comparison, it just implies you don’t know anything about Greeky mythology.”

“Excuse me, I’m a gay Gen Z. Of course I fucking know Greek mythology. I read Percy Jackson.” Richie said with a wave of his hand. Stan gaped at him for a moment before Eddie blew the wrapper from Richie’s straw at Richie’s head. 

“He’s also a fucking Ancient Civilization minor.” Eddie said in a mixture of fondness and irritation. “Don’t let him fool you with his stupidity, he’s actually incredibly smart.” 

“Okay, yeah, this is great.” Beverly spoke up suddenly, dropping her shopping bags onto the kitchen counter. “But do you guys wanna tell me what the hell is going on exactly?”

“Yes, I’d like to know, too.” Stan said, taking a seat at the small, banged up wooden table. “Eddie didn’t exactly give much details as he was superhero sprinting around the Starbucks and making like $30 worth of product he didn't pay for.” 

Eddie waved Stan off. “We might be in for a long night.” He said, dropping into the seat beside Stan. Mike and Beverly both moved to take the last two seats around the table and Richie jumped up to sit on top of the table between Eddie and Stan. He maybe positioned himself a little bit closer to Stan, just to watch Eddie’s jaw clench.

“Richie, why don’t you tell everybody what you told me earlier.” Eddie said in his very best teacher voice. 

Richie sighed. “I still think you’re making too big a deal out of this, Eds, really. But basically some guy came up to me in class today, and accused me of running the Spotted! Blog and then told me that  Professor Fly is going to come back tonight.” 

Stan’s head jerked to look at Richie, eyes wide. “That’s impossible. Who told you this?”

Richie shrugged. “I don’t man, some weirdo. Think he said his name was Bill?”

Beverly startled at her seat, knocking one of the coffees to the ground. Everybody turned to look at her and her face had lost nearly all colour. “Uh… did he have a scar running through his eyebrow?” 

“Yeah… how do you know that?” 

Beverly scratched at the side of her neck. “I went on a few dates with him last semester, he's a weird dude. I wouldn’t read too much into this, I’m sure he’s just trying to stir up drama. His brother died when he was young, and he never really got over it.”

A shoulder crossed over Stan’s face and he sighed sadly. “Georgie Denbrough. That was…. A tragedy.” 

Mike and Eddie made matching sympathetic sounds and Richie pulse jumped. “Okay, you all clearly know what the fuck is going on, from your super secret like Justice League meetings or something, but anybody want to catch me up? Who is Georgie Denbrough and what happened to him?”

“Georgie Denbrough was Professor Fly’s biggest shame. His failure as a hero.” Stan said, voice almost completely monotone. “It was just before he started training me to take over for him, I’ve always suspected it was the reason why he was choosing to retire. The Professor was trying to save a group of children from a predator and somehow the battle got really intense. The predator had powers that The Professor hadn’t anticipated, and The Professor’s powers back fired when he tried to catch the man. It caused the building to explode. Most of the children were okay, scrapes and bruises, maybe a broken bone or so, but Georgie Denbrough… He lost an arm in the explosion and he bled out before help could arrive. The boy died and the villain got away. He never really recovered from it.”

“Neither did Bill Denbrough,” Beverly jumped in. “When we were going out, it was pretty much all he talked about. How Professor Fly killed his little brother and ruined Bill’s life. He hates superheroes because of it. He probably doesn't know shit, but at least suspects that Richie knows some heroes and will tell them what he said. It’s a set up.”

Stan nodded. “There’s no way The Professor is going to be out tonight. Nothing would pull him out of retirement, trust me.”

Eddie rubbed his hands together. “Maybe.” He said shortly. “But we don’t know that it’s a trap for us. It’s possible this Bill guy has something planned tonight to try and bring Professor Fly out. We can’t risk people getting hurt because we don’t know what this guy's plan is. I think we should have all hands on deck tonight if we can.”

“Eddie’s right.” Mike said. “Even if it is a trap for us, we agreed to this sort of risk when we started acting as heroes. We knew what we were getting into, we can’t just sit around and do nothing when lives are at risk. Best case scenario, this Bill guy is full of shit and just running his mouth and nothing happens but we need to prepare for the worst.”

“I can’t imagine him going so far out of his way to figure out who’s running that blog just for it to be nothing.” Stan said quietly. 

“Maybe that’s part of the plan,” Richie jumped in. “He wanted me to post about Professor Fly’s return, probably to lure out people and heroes to whatever it was he was going to do. Maybe if I don’t post it then he’ll just drop the whole thing because he’s not getting the audience that he wants.”

“You should post it.” Beverly said suddenly, using some of the shitty dollar store dish cloths to wipe up the spilled coffee all over the floor. A large round of disagreement spread out amongst the heroes until Bev held her hand up for quiet. “I might not know much about this whole superhero world, or whatever, but how are you supposed to catch this guy if he doesn’t go through with his plan? You can’t exactly go after somebody for figuring out that Richie is caught up with superheroes.”

Eddie muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like “I can fucking try” but none of the heroes had any sort of argument against Beverly’s claims. 

“Spotted! Isn't a gossip column!” Richie cried, tossing his hands in the air, nearly taking Stan’s eye out. “I’m not posting some unfounded bullshit about Professor Fly and killing my brand for this Bill dude’s fucking vandetta.”

“Your blog’s brand is more important to you than saving lives?” Mike asked, giving Richie big, sad puppy eyes.

“We don’t know it’ll save lives!” Richie argued. “For all we know, sending out a blast could be what gets people killed. If you think we should all go out and keep on eye on stuff, then fine but-”

“Whoa, whoa!” Eddie cut him off quickly. “What do you mean we? You’re not coming with us if we go out there, Richie. You and Bev aren’t leaving this apartment tonight, you could be a target!”

“YOU’RE NOT MY BOSS!” Richie leapt off the table and stalked away from Eddie, hands trembling at his sides. “I’m so sick of you telling me what I can and can’t do! You can’t control me, Eddie.”

Eddie’s head jerked back as though it had been slapped, and a wounded look crossed his face that Richie wouldn’t let himself feel bad about. “I’m not trying to control you, Richard. I’m trying to keep you safe.”

“Oh, really?” Richie laughed. “So, you making a point not to tell me you knew who FlyBoy was when you were under the impression I might have a crush on him wasn’t you keeping me safe, and not at all you not wanting me to date somebody that isn’t you.”

Eddie stood up and walked around to where Richie was standing angrily behind the counter. He didn’t touch him but his hands hovered just above Richie’s arms. “I didn’t tell you who FlyBoy was because it's a secret identity for a reason. It’s not like it was really my place to SAY anything to you about it, alright? You can date whoever the fuck you want, obviously, because I didn’t stop you from going on those dates with Connor Whathisfuck last year and I hated that guy so much it actually burned my soul. I want you to be happy, okay? I’d never stop you from dating somebody. Stan is right there if you wanna go ask him out right now, you pleeb.” 

Richie glanced over Eddie’s shoulders at where the people around the table were all staring at them. Stan wrinkled up his nose. “Please don’t.”

Richie rolled his eyes and snorted. “Don’t worry, Stan my Man. If I’d known FlyBoy was somebody as boring as you, I wouldn’t have dedicated so much time to him in the first place.” 

Richie tried to ignore Eddie’s relieved sigh in his ear. 

Eddie didn’t budge on his statement that Richie and Beverly would be staying behind at their apartment, as Richie didn’t budge his refusal to post false information on this blog. “If you want me to make some sort of announcement, it has to be something true. That’s just how it is.”

“You could post about seeing the three of us teaming up.” Mike suggested as Richie was really just focusing on not looking at his bare chest as he changed into his suit. “That will be enough to get the public's attention and let this Bill Denbrough know we’re taking him seriously without having to leak false information about Professor Fly.”

Richie nodded in agreement as Eddie padded over him to his little tight red spandex supersuit. Richie’s breath caught as it always did when he saw Eddie as Captain Fast. “Don’t say anything until you’re sure we’re a decent way away from the apartment. Just because somebody figured out that you run the blog doesn’t mean that we should be leading towards the place you live. Play it safe, Rich.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Richie waved it off, but they both knew at the end of the day even as much as Richie fought it, he was going to follow Eddie’s advice. As the group moved towards the front door, Eddie suddenly spun around and grabbed hold of Richie’s waist. He tugged him into a tight hug, pressing his face against Richie’s shoulder.

“Please, please, be careful, Rich.” Eddie whispered into Richie’s body. “I have a really bad feeling.”

“Yeah, Eds. I’ll be careful.” Richie squeezed Eddie tightly until the other man pulled back. There was a split second where Richie was certain that Eddie was about to lean in for a kiss. The moment broke as Eddie’s cheeks turned pink and he looked away. He pulled the matching red mask over his eyes and followed the rest of Mike and Stan from the apartment. 

Richie wallowed in his poor, confused little gay heart for roughly ten minutes before he took out his phone and sent out the blast. 

Spotted! What must be the coolest new trio in NYC: FlyBoy, Captain Fast and Freezie heading out on the town. Is this just a  (super)mans night out- or is something much more sinister in the works for not so little city? I think we can all only wait and see. This blogger advises his readers to stay home tonight, and keep an eye on the news and little old me for your updates.

Richie didn’t even have a chance to put his phone back into his pocket before Beverly was stomping into the room and tossing a black hoodie over his head. He pulled it away and caught sight of Beverly with her red hair tied up in a long red, curly ponytail. She wore black jeans and black tank top that showed off a black triangle tattoo on her left arm. She raised her brow and nodded at him. “Hurry up, get into something dark and let’s go.”

“I didn’t know you had a tattoo.” Richie said slowly. 

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.” Beverly said. “Now hurry up and let's go. We have stuff we have to do.”

“I told Eddie I was gonna stay in the apartment.” Richie said, fidgeting with the fabric of the hoodie in his hands. “I think we-”

“I thought Eddie wasn’t the boss of you.” Beverly said, cocking her brow. Richie’s face burned as he tugged the plain back sweater over his head and put his feet back into messy converse sneakers. Beverly was already halfway down the hallway before Richie was even out of the apartment’s door. When they exited the stairway into the lobby, there was a man waiting there in matching all black outfit with the same triangle tattoo on his left arm. He had thick muscled arms, but chubby cheeks and wide eyes that seemed to still hold onto some sort of childhood innocence. 

Beverly pressed a quick kiss to his lips and Richie blinked. I didn’t know you had a boyfriend. The words died on Richie’s tongue as a weird feeling overcame him in that moment. “Richie, this is Ben. Ben, Richie.”

Ben held his hand out and Ben’s shake was warm and firm. Somehow Richie felt like his skin was crawling as Beverly pressed her hands between Richie’s shoulder blades and began to push him out towards the front of the building. 

“I uh” Richie cleared his throat, heart hammering in his chest. “Where are we going? Eddie’s probably right that we should stay inside, we don’t know what’s going to happen.”

“Don’t be such a chicken shit.” Beverly grinned at him, and Richie shivered as a chill rushed through his spine. “Aren’t you at all curious about what might be going on? Come on, it’ll be fine. It’s not like we’re actually a target for anything. Denbrough was probably just trying to use you for your site.”

Immediately, Richie had been curious- almost morbidly so. Until this very moment when all he wanted to do was run back to his apartment and spend the rest of the night hiding under his blankets. But Richie Tozier had never been very good at trusting himself or any of his instincts, and he allowed Beverly and Ben to guide him into the black car parked out front. 

Then didn’t drive far, and pulled up to some sort of abandoned warehouse. Every couple of seconds there was a flash of light from inside the cracked and shattered glass windows. Richie’s breath started catching in his throat with every attempt to breathe. “What- where are we?”

Beverly turned to where Richie was trying to fade into the back seat of the car, and looked almost sad. “I’m sorry, Rich. It wasn’t supposed to go this way.” 

xxx

Eddie actually hated wearing spandex, but it was an incredibly durable fabric. With the amount of moving he did, it was the most logical choice in costume. But Eddie was never truly comfortable when in costume.

“If I ask you something, could you answer without getting bitchy?” Stan suddenly whispered in his ear. He, Mike and Eddie had only reached the main core of the Lower West Side. Eddie turned to him and narrowed his eyes as best as he could home to do with a mask covering half his face. “Do you ever think of giving it up? Hanging up your suit and just being a normal person. Letting yourself really love Richie?” 

Eddie’s face burned nearly the colour of the suit. He spent the better part of the last two years trying not to think about how he was in love with Richie Tozier and in the last three years, it was the only thing at the front of his mind. “I try not to think about it, honestly, because it’s not an option. I didn’t choose to have these powers, or this life. But as long as I have them, I have to do the right thing. I don’t have a choice.”

“I don’t know.” Stan said slowly. “I think you should be able to do what’s best for you. You deserve to be happy.”

“I’m happy enough.” Eddie lied. “Do you think we should split up and cover more ground?”

“Yeah.” Mike jumped in as the conversation changed back into the professional task at hand. “Especially since we don’t really know what the situation is, so keep your ear pieces in and buzz into the others if you come across anything.” 

“Alright,” Stan agreed, though he shot Eddie a this isn’t over look from the corner of his eye. “Eddie and I have a much easier way to travel, so Mike you can stay in this area.” Stan and Eddie agreed on their own sections of the general NYU area- the area that had always been protected by Professor Fly in the height of his career- and Eddie took off running. Eddie had always loved running, and it was the only part of being a hero that he still enjoyed. Sometimes, on nights when Eddie just couldn’t be bothered to care, he’d just run for miles. Just see how far he could go. He’d reached the Canadian border once before he decided it was a waste of his gift. 

Eddie slowed down into a simple walk once he reached his section of town, when somebody reached out and grabbed hold of Eddie’s arm. Eddie gasped at the feeling of utter desperation that sort through him belonging to the person who touched him. A pair of icy blue eyes under a scarred eyebrow met Eddie’s and Eddie’s heart leapt right into his mouth.

“What are you doing here?” Bill Denbrough demanded. “You’re not supposed to be here! Didn’t Richie tell you about my warning?”

“Your- your warning?” Eddie squawked. “So, you tracking him down and telling him some bogus tip about Professor Fly was supposed to be a warning? A warning of what- that you’re insane?” 

Denbrough shook his head, brown hair falling into his head. “No. No.” He said desperately, nails digging into Eddie’s skin. “Professor Fly would never return, FlyBoy would know that. Didn’t you tell FlyBoy? It’s a trap, you were all supposed to stay home! You’re all in danger!” 

Eddie tried to pull his arm free but Denbrough’s grip was too tight. “You’re hurting me!” Eddie cried, chest starting to feel the too familiar pressure of an asthma attack- though he hadn’t one a single one since his powers had come in. 

“I k-k-know you have more powers than just sp-speed.” Denbrough said, stepping even further into Eddie’s space and grabbing hold of his other arm. “You can s-s-sense me, r-right? You’ll no-no-know if I’m d-dan-dangerous!” 

Eddie felt a lot of things about Bill Denbrough. Guilt, fear, desperation. There was something bleak and sad under the surface but there was no hint of a threat to him. “What do you want?” Eddie asked in a shaking voice.

Bill Denbrough’s eyes darted around Eddie. “Where’s R-R-Richie? Is he w-w-ith you? Where is h-he?”

“He’s safe.” Eddie promised even as his own heart stuttered and panicked. “He’s back at his apartment with his roommate, they’re both-”

Bill’s eyes widened in horror. “NO! No, you can’t t-t-t-t-fuck- trust Beverly! She’s n-n-not who you think she is!” 

Eddie started shaking his head. “No offence, but I’ve known Beverly for a year and I’ve only known you five minutes and you seem pretty unhinged. Why should I believe you when you say I can’t trust her, if I have no reason to trust you?”

“Have you ever tou-tou-touched her?” Bill demanded. “In the yuh-year you’ve known her, ha-have your body ev-ever even graze-grazed hers?” Eddie opened his mouth but froze. “No. It ha-hasn’t. I know it ha-hasn’t, be-because she knows if you ha-had ever tou-touched her, you’d kn-know the truth about her. And everything would have been ru-ruined.”

Eddie shook his head. “What’s she going to do to him?”

Bill frowned. “This wuh-wuh-wasn’t the plu-plan. I don’t- there’s only one place s-sh-she’d take him. But you have to tr-tr-trust me.”

It wasn’t in Eddie’s nature to be particularly trusting, and Bill wasn’t exactly somebody who was inspiring much benefit of the doubt. But his hands were still digging into Eddie’s arms and the only thing Eddie could sense was fear and deeper down- guilt that Eddie suspected he felt at all times. “Okay.” Eddie said, and as Bill let go of him, Eddie flicked on this ear piece’s speaker. 

Bill didn’t lead Eddie too far away, the pair of them travelling in silence and Eddie secretly wishing that Bill would simply tell him where the location was so Eddie could run there. If something happened to Richie while Eddie was wasting his time walking, he’d never forgive himself. Eventually, Bill led him over to the warehouse with lights that flashed through broken windows. He could make out figures walking around inside as he and Bill attempted to sneak into the warehouse without being noticed. 

There was a large glass sphere in the middle of the room, surrounded by what looked like burn white lightning that occasionally sparked brighter and caused the room to brighten as though large fluorescent lights flicked on overhead. Richie was seated a few feet away on the floor, bound against a large cement pillar that connected all the way up to the ceiling. He appeared unharmed, if not mildly annoyed. Eddie’s heart raced all the same Beverly and a man Eddie didn’t recognize both paced around the same space.

“Billy…” Beverly came to a full stand still. Bill froze at Eddie’s side. “There’s no need to sneak around. Come out, we have a lot to talk about, don’t we?”

Bill pressed a single finger against his lips, before turning and stepping out of the shadows. “You’re m-may-making a big m-m-mistake, Beverly. He’s n-n-n-not who he says he is.”

“I think you’re the one who’s not who he says he is.” Beverly said, turning around and facing Bill with her arms crossed. “Going behind our backs and telling Richie some crap about Professor Fly? Bringing your existence to his attention? You forced our hand, Billy. Mr Scratch isn’t going to be pleased.”

“He-He’s not guh-good, Bev!” Bill cried, hands clutched at his side. “What do you th-th-think he’s going to do with it wuh-wuh-when he gets it? He-He’s puh-playing you both!”

“He is not!” Beverly cried. “He’s going to do exactly what told us! Why did you have to go and fuck up the plan?”

“Excuse me!” Richie cried, voice dripping with sarcasm. “But if I’m going to be killed, can you guys at least do me the decency of letting me know what you’re talking about in my final moments.”

“You’re not going to die.” Beverly’s male friend said softly. “Nobody is going to get hurt.”

“You’re a fuh-fool if you buh-believe that, Ben!” Bill said, taking steps closer into the room. “Richie, this mach-machine has the ab-ability tr-train a super-superhero of their p-p-powers. Mr Scr-scratch hates heroes and he-”

“Like you’re any better!” Beverly shouted over Bill’s explanation. “You’ve been with him longer than either of us! Heroes killed your brother, you hate them just as much as the rest of us. Maybe ever more! They ruined all our lives!” Beverly turned towards Richie and took a few steps towards him. “I lost my parents when I was little. My father was an awful man, he chased my mother away when I was only six. He died when I was 11, and my aunt took me in. For two years, I experienced happiness for the first time. I loved my aunt and she loved me, took care of me for the first time since I could remember anything. She was a good person, and superheroes came and ripped my only true family apart. My aunt took into selling drugs after she adopted me, just to get ends to meet. She wasn’t proud of it, but she did what she had to do for me. She was smart, she never would have been caught if the superheroes minded their own business and let police handle things. A bunch of hyped up vigilanties took my aunt away from me, and I went into foster care. I was only 13. When I was 17, Mr Scratch found me. Told me there were others like me, who wanted to even the playing field.”

“By killing all the superheroes?” Richie asked, voice breaking. “Beverly, you have to admit that sounds fucking insane!” 

“It isn’t going to kill them.” Ben added. “The Deadlight doesn’t kill them, it only drains them of their supernatural abilities. Makes them human, normal. Just like everybody else.” 

Richie scoffed, in higher octaves than regular voices. “And then what happens to their powers? They just what? Evaporate?” 

“They’ll be trapped in the Deadlight.” Ben answered. “Forever. No more superheroes.”

“You’re an i-idiot.” Bill said coldly. “Sc-Scratch is obviously going to tuh-take the powers! Guh-get rid of the sue-supers and make himself invisible. Undefeatable.”

“You’re full of shit.” Beverly snapped. “He wouldn’t do that! We’re not evil, or some fucking supervillain cult! All we want in equality! We’d never use any of these powers against anybody!”

 “You two wouldn’t.” Bill said darkly. “I’ve wuh-wuh-wondered if he was really who he suh-said he was for- a luh-long time. But I suh-saw plans in his uh-office. About how to ruh-ruh-reverse the Deadlights. He’s guh-gonna take the puh-powers for him-himself.” 

“You’re a fucking liar!” Beverly screamed. “He wouldn’t do that! He-” 

A suddenly crashing brought Beverly’s screams to a halt. The doors busted open and Stan dropped in, with Mike leaping off his back. Beverly took a step backwards, eyes open wide and Ben moved over to stand almost directly in front of Richie. 

“Where’s Eddie?” Mike demanded, glancing around the room. Eddie cringed and slapped a hand over his forehead, as Beverly and Ben exchanged a shocked expression. Richie looked around wildly, with huge, terrified eyes.

Beverly crossed her arms and looked back to the same shadows that Bill had appeared from. “Okay, Eds. You can come out.”

“Don’t call me that.” Eddie said sharply as he stepped out as well.

“Eddie…” Richie said a quiet, almost broken voice. Eddie tried to give him a reassuring look, but he knew that Richie would be able to see his own fear underneath the attempt. 

Beverly sighed and rolled her eyes. “Alright, this isn’t exactly how I planned on tonight going, though I have to say I did expect to see you all here after I took Richie.”

“Let him go.” Eddie said furiously. “He doesn’t have powers, he isn’t part of this. Let him go.”

Beverly smiled sadly. “No can do, sorry. Richie is actually a key factor to this whole mission. Why do you think I’ve been so encouraging of his little blog? He’s a natural talent, and he’s been so helpful in our acquiring the true identities of these so-called heroes.”

Eddie glanced at Richie, who looked like he might be physically ill. All Eddie wanted to do was rush over and wrap Richie in his arms and keep him safe, but he couldn’t show that weakness in this moment.

“We found Richie through you, though, Eddie.” Beverly said, looking almost… amused. “We didn’t know who you were, but Richie was at most of your scenes and we figured that he knew you. It was Big Bill’s idea that one of befriend him, and figure out what he knows. Does it sting a little, knowing you gave your future with Richie to protect him but you lead us to him anyway?” 

It more than stung, it burned. Eddie’s entire body felt like it was vibrating as he stood there, staring down at women he’d thought of as a friend for more than a year. A woman who’d been living under the same roof as Richie, but wanting only to use him and potentially cause him harm. 

“Oh, Eddie, don’t look like that.” Beverly said, sounding almost genuinely upset. “I already said we aren't gonna hurt him. Nobody is going to get hurt, Bill is just- I don’t even know what he’s trying to do.”

“I’m trying to wa-warn you!” Bill cried. “You’re buh-bluh-blinded stupid but your own luh-loyalty that you cant’ see the uh-aub-obvious truth in fr-fruh-front of you!!”

“This was your cause!” Ben came quickly to Beverly’s defence. “You hate superheroes maybe more than anybody! How can you say this wasn’t what you wanted?”

Bill’s jaw clenched and his bottom lip trembled. “I… I wanted the h-her-heroes gone. But I duh-didn’t want anybody to guh-get their powers and uh-use them for them-themselves.”

“You’re the only person who's acting like that’s going to happen.” Ben snapped. Eddie thought this was his moment, the first time he’d been able to see a true path of entrance. Everybody’s eyes were torn between Bill and Ben, this could be Eddie’s chance to get over to Richie and free him. Eddie, maybe for the first time in his life, misjudged his position. 

Beverly’s hands collided hard with Eddie’s chest, the strength of her anger and resentment hitting him hard and shocking him to his core. He understood now more than ever why Beverly hadn’t made the mistake of touching Eddie in the year they’ve known one another. He may not have felt any true evil inside her, like he had felt in many a foe before, and there was still a lingering of a sad, scared little girl at her core but none of the vibes she was giving to him at this moment was reassuring. He would have kept her far away from Richie, he would have figured out enough about her, and this plan would never have worked.

Beverly taking Eddie by utter surprise had given her even more of an advantage. He knocked Eddie backwards and he stumbled backwards, crashing directly into the Deadlight. An electric charge drove through every nerve in his body and he was thrown across the empty warehouse by a bolt of white lightning. He heard Richie scream his name, but it was like a buzzing deep in the back of his mind. 

The harsh impact to the hard ground jarred Eddie back into himself, though a small bit dazed. He’d landed not far from where Richie was tied up. He shuffled backwards, groaning as the oddest sensation of discomfort shot through his body, but he didn’t stop until he could rest his head against Richie’s knee. 

“Holy shit, Eds!” Richie gasped, fighting against his bindings even as it shook Eddie’s resting head. “How the fuck are you alive right now? You just got yeeted across the room by lightning!” 

Eddie grumbled as he reached blindly behind their bodies to untie Richie’s bondings. It must have been a testament to how shocking the last few moments had been as nobody attempted to stop them. Richie winced and rubbed at his hands for a moment before reaching out and cupping Eddie’s face. Eddie smiled as his eyes flushed shut and he leaned into the touch. 

“Are you okay?” Richie said in a low voice. It wasn’t quite a whisper, Richie never actually whispered, but it was soft and worried and so full of love that Eddie felt he might cry. 

“Yeah.” Eddie said back. “I’m okay. Promise promise.” 

Richie’s face broke into a relieved grin and pressed a hard kiss to Eddie’s voice. Maybe it had been the actual bolt of lightning that had just gone through Eddie’s body, but it felt so charged that Eddie even let out a small gasp. Then it all hit him and his eyes blew open wide. “Richie, I can’t feel you.”

“What? You can’t feel anything?” Richie asked in a panic. 

��No!” Eddie cried, shifting to sit up properly and grabbing Richie’s hands to tangle them together. “I can’t feel your spirit, your mood. It’s like… before.”

Richie and Eddie turned in unison to look at the Deadlight. The others all turned to follow their lead. It seemed to be glowing brighter, the lightning revolving around it faster. Eddie’s powers now fueling it. 

“Holy shit.” Mike said at the same time Beverly gasped. “It works.”

“Of course it works,” a deep voice came as a man in a long black cloak appeared out of nowhere. “You doubted me, Beverly? Thank you, you’ve all played your roles perfectly.” Bill startled as the man- Mr Scratch- turned to him and grinned. “Oh yes, even you Dear Bill. I always knew that your moral compass would bring you to betray me. I accounted for the variable since the beginning of our time together.”

As Mr Scratch moved around the circle, Beverly stepped out of his way as though she didn’t even notice she was doing it. She collided with Bill’s torso, and the man reached out to grab at her hand. She didn’t pull away from the touch, pale and shaking as she watched Mr Scratch rounded on the group.

“Stanley.” Mr Scratch said in a slow voice, grin spreading across his face. Stan was standing still as a statue, fists tightened even as tears filled his eyes. “You know who I am already, I can see it all over your face. Well, I never doubted your intelligence. Go ahead and tell them, there’s no need to keep it a secret amongst old friends.”

“Robert Gray.” Stan said through a clenched jaw. A single tear slipped from his ear and trailed down his cheek. “Professor Fly.”

Richie gasped and squeezed Eddie’s hand tightener. Ben stumbled away and crashed into the cement pillar that Richie had just been tied up against. Mike looked at Stan in shock as Beverly slapped a hand over her mouth. Bill pushed past her, rage evident as his face. “YOU MOTHERFUCKER-”

Gray  barely even flicked his wrist and Bill soared off his feet and slammed up against a pillar, easily twenty feet off the ground. “Stupid boy.” Gray said fondly. “You will never be a match for me, and you’ll never outsmart me. I have been planning this moment for nearly a decade. Your brother’s death started a fire that will destroy the entire world of supers as we know it.” 

Bill struggled against the invisible hold Gray had against him, Richie turning his head away from the scene and pressing his face against Eddie’s neck. Eddie could feel how Richie’s hands were shaking where they were connected.

“None of you are giving me enough credit.” Gray said in a bored tone. “Do you have any idea how much work I had to put into this entire thing? I didn’t just have to create the Deadlights, I had to hand pick every single person who would help me. Bill was a no brainer, even as I knew I could never trust him fully. Beverly and Ben had to be vulnerable enough that they would never question me, and that Bill would never feel confident in telling them what he’d figured out.”

“You left the pl-pl-pla-”

“Yes.” Gray interrupted. “I left the plans out on purpose. Haven’t you figured that I don’t leave anything to chance, William? I accounted for every possible outcome. I had to choose Stan very carefully, choose an heir that would follow my orders but never question me when I told him I could not be contacted after I retire. That I would simply never return.” 

Stan turned away bitterly, trying to wipe at the tears on his as inconspicuously as he possibly could. 

“Even after that, I had to pull so many strings. Made sure that Richie and Stan would cross paths, had to let Beverly believe that Richie’s silly little blog was her idea to let them both feel important.” He shot Eddie a slimey grin. “Had to make sure that Richie got caught in that hostage situation just after they moved to NYC so Eddie wouldn’t consider their relationship worth Richie’s life and end things, so there would be space for Beverly to make her move on Richie. I will admit I was hoping that Richie would fall in love with her, but I underestimated his love for Eddie. A small loss, but nothing damaging to the overall scheme.”

Eddie’s body thrummed with rage. Richie had nightmares for a year after that fucking bank heist, and this man had done that to them on purprose for the simply purpose of breaking them up? Richie still had panic attacks and made Eddie or Bev go with him if he needed to do any sort of banking he couldn’t do online. 

“You said nobody was going to be hurt.” Beverly said, tears streaming down her face. “You said- you said you wanted to even the playing field! You’re a monster!”

“Nobody will be hurt.” Gray said. “You will all be free to go, once all the supers have touched the Deadlight and given up their powers. You’ll all be able to go on with your lives, and I will be able to go on with mine. Once your powers are gone, you’ll have no reason to oppose me and I will have no reason to bother you again.”

Beverly and Ben stood directly in front of the Deadlight, the pain on their faces from the flashing bursts of lightning behind them. Stan was staring directly at Gray, face a mask of rage even as tears fell from his eyes. Richie hadn’t moved from where he’d hidden himself against Eddie.

“You killed my brother on purpose.” Bill said from above them. He was still fighting against Gray’s grip. 

For the first time, Gray’s composure slipped. “No.” He said shortly. “That was a tragic accident. That moment changed me forever. It was when I realized that all of those with powers, even myself, were capable of death and destruction. That we were all inherently evil. The day, I knew that I could not allow another person to hold such powers over another being again. You know, Billy- your brother is the reason for all of this. He gave his life for the new world order-”

Bill let out an intelligible scream but Gray could so much as speak, Mike Hanlon had launched himself from the crowd and latched himself onto Gray’s back. Eddie watched with mouth gape as Gray struggled against the hold before clear blue ice began to spread across his body in a matter of seconds. As the ice completely covered Gray, Bill began to free fall. Stan didn’t waste a single moment before launching up into the sky and catching Bill mid-fall and lowering them both to the ground. He let go of Bill as they touched down and rushed over to Eddie and Richie, one hand finding its way into Richie’s hair and the other falling on top of their joined hands.

“That’s the trick to villains.” Mike said, not even sounding out of breath. “You gotta get ‘em while they’re monologuing.” 

Beverly, face hard, stepped forward and kicked at Gray’s frozen chest. He tittered and fell backwards, shattering into pieces as he hit the ground. “I think it’s safe to say he didn’t account for those variables.” 

They were quiet for a long moment, Stan helping Richie and Eddie to their feet and holding onto them as they all moved towards the shattered ice pieces in the middle of the room. Even in the chilly night, they could see the beginning signs of melting.

“We nn-n-need to d-d-estory this fucking thing.” Bill said suddenly, all of them turning towards the Deadlight. Hums of agreement moved through the room. 

“Wait.” Richie said, tightening his hold on Eddie’s waist. “You said that the powers could be taken out right? We need to get Eddie’s powers back!”

“Oh, yeah!” Bill said quickly. “I- I’ll s-s-see if I can find the instructions ag-again.”

Do you ever think of giving it up? Hanging up your suit and just being a normal person. Letting yourself really love Richie?

“Wait.” Eddie said, throwing out a hand. “Don’t. I don’t want them back.”

Every eye in the room turned to him, Stan smiling even as tears still hung in his eyes. “I never wanted them,” Eddie carried on. “I didn’t want to be some hero, saving people. I wanted to run track and fix cars and be with my love of my life.”

Richie turned slowly, eyes wide and painfully hopeful. “Eddie, don’t do this for shit for me. Please, okay, I-”

“I’m not doing it for you.” Eddie turned and slid his arms around Richie’s shoulders. “I’m doing it for me. I don’t need these bullshit powers. I can run perfectly fine with my own two normal feet, and I would love to be able to touch a person without knowing their moral count or pick up something in somebodys house without knowing if its fucking haunted or not.”

Richie chuckled wetly.

“And I love you so much.” Eddie continued. “And all I want is to be with you, it’s all I’ve ever wanted since the fucking sixth grade. I’m tired of loving each other and being forced apart and just hurting each other over and over. Especially over these stupid powers I was cursed with. I don’t want them back. I wanna be with you and I wanna be happy.”

Richie ducked down and pressed his lips against Eddie’s. This time Eddie knew the sparks that seemed to shoot through him was no lightning shot- just love. 

Spotted! FlyBoy, Captain Fly and Freezie teaming up with three civilians and your truly to foil a truly evil plan, saving not just our city but possibly our entire world. (Eyewitnesses may claim that Freezie did all the work, but that remains to be proven.) And in case you missed it, there was an epic conclusion to an equally epic love story. You know what they say, all’s well that ends great… or however the saying goes!

[richieisabastardman]

Hold Me Now - Part 4 - Richie Tozier x Reader

Summary:  You had forgotten about everything that happened in Derry until Mike called you up. Now, sitting in the restaurant surrounded by your friends, you remembered everything. More importantly, you remember Richie. (Fluff/Angst)

Warnings: Nothing really. 

Word count: 3181

Notes: Thank you again for all of the lovely messages and comments! I love hearing what you guys think of the fic so far <3

Here are the links to previous parts: part one, part two, part three >>> part five

“Where the huh-huh-hell is he?” Bill remarked, running a hand through his hair. He paced around the bar room, a slight glisten materialising upon his brow.

You stood within the same room beside Eddie, with Beverly and Ben sitting down on lounges not far from the two of you.

“Maybe he lost track of time. Maybe he got distracted…” Eddie trailed off, looking towards you. His face did not reveal his insinuation to any of the other members of the gang, but you knew what he was implying. You looked at him with a stern expression, a silent cue for him to shut the fuck up before I kick your ass Kaspbrack. He took the hint, quickly shifting his gaze from you to the clock which sat upon the wall just in front of the two of you. It was now ten past ten, almost fifteen minutes since you had made your way down to the others and at least twenty since Bill had called you down. What the hell was he-

“Sorry, sorry. I’m here” Richie announced, making his way down the stairs. He was still zipping up the fly of his jeans. His dishevelled appearance, including messy hair and a shirt that was half tucked in, made it seem as though he was just caught in the act. Well, that was almost true you supposed.

“Yeah well its not like we’re in a ru-ru-rush or any-thu-thu-thing” Bill remarked.

“Alright well I was taking a crap okay? You happy now? Let me just adjust my bowel movements to killer clown fighting times. Does nine A.M work for you, Bill?”

Beverly and Ben groaned at Richie’s crudeness. Eddie gave you a quick smirk and you nudged him with your shoulder, an action that you had used as a child to shut the boy up.

“Alright Rich, just sit down” Ben said and for once, Richie obeyed his order, sitting beside Beverly in a free chair. You and Eddie remained standing.  

“Nuh-Now that everyone’s here” Bill said, taking a moment to give a stern look to Richie. Richie looked around before lifting his palms in a surrender and muttering come on man to himself. You felt bad for the man, considering it was partly your fault. “Mike wants us to muh-meet him. Suh-Says he has something he wants to show uh-us”.

“So I guess Beverly you could come with me…” Ben started, however the doubt seeping through his words made it sound more like a question. Beverly nodded her head and Ben suddenly perked up, smiling and almost forgetting he was in the middle of a statement. “Uh, Eddie can go with Bill and Y/N with Rich?”.

Richie opened his mouth but before he could say anything Eddie spoke. “Sounds good. We better get a move on; Mike has probably been waiting for ages” He said and looked towards Richie, almost mimicking Bill.

“Oh my god, just crucify me already for the sin of taking my morning dump. You know if I had remembered how anal you guys are about everything, I never would have come back here!” Richie yelled out towards the gang, who were already almost out of the front door of the motel.  You stared at the man who was still sitting down within the bar chair, raising an eyebrow at his outburst. He finally looked towards you, before standing up and gesturing you to go before him; towards the front door. “We better go” he said, and you nodded your head, making your way towards the exit.

~

Richie had driven the two of you in silence for what felt like hours, but had probably only been about ten minutes. The only sound between the two of you was the radio, which had begun to play an old country song before Richie let out a sound of disgust and turned the radio off - the silence between the two of you even more deafening now. You had considered, multiple times, beginning a conversation about what had happened this morning. However, every time you had meant to start talking, a thick lump formed in your throat and you choked on your words, never releasing a sound.

“I’m sorry about this morning” Richie said suddenly, his eyes still on the road. “I was all… worked up and then I saw Eddie standing there and I freaked out. I didn’t mean to just leave you there-“

“It’s fine” you said and allowed the silence to once again fill the vehicle in which you sat. Richie allowed it for a moment also before shaking his head.

“It’s not fine though. I mean, you’re upset. And like, rightfully so. I just-“ he began before you interrupted him.

“It’s just this hot and cold shit, Richie. This is just like what it was between us as kids. One minute, your asking me to come live with you and the next you’re running away. One minute you’re all over me, the next you wont even let me touch you. This is just like-“ you started and stopped yourself.

Richie’s gaze finally moved from the road to your face, a stern expression (which Richie rarely wore) sat upon his own. “Like what?” he asked quietly. A harsh quiet. “Like what?”.

“Like the night before I left for New York. I mean… I wanted you to tell me not to go”

“Did I not!? Did I not repeatedly tell you to not go!?” he almost yelled, his grip tightening significantly on the car’s steering wheel.

“I don’t mean like that I mean… you know… ‘More Than Words’” you said.

“Do not quote shitty nineties songs at me right now” he said, his grip on the steering wheel was still tight, however his voice was calmer now and his gaze remained on the road. “Do you know how much I regret not telling you how I felt that night? It was all I could think about. Twenty years of fucking replaying that shit in my head”.

“Richie” you said softly, barely realising his name had left your mouth. His confession revealed to you a rare vulnerability that you knew he tried not to show often. The amount of times he had deflected serious talks with jokes and jabs was countless. However, every time he told you how he really felt, your heart melted.

You placed your hand on his thigh, the rough material of his jeans beneath your fingers. His body tensed to your touch and you cursed yourself for the way you had spoken to him before. He was scared. You were both scared. You had barely thought of the man until a day ago when all your feelings for him had struck you in the chest- almost quite literally - as the resurfacing of your memories had caused such a feeling inside you. It had caused a sick feeling within you, yes, which had resulted in you throwing up on a main road out of a taxi. However, it had also caused a squeezing in your chest, a longing that had not quite dispersed out of your body until your eyes had fixed onto Richie in that Chinese restaurant yesterday.

“Why are we fighting like we’re teenagers again” you asked softly, not necessarily to Richie. He answered you anyway.

“Its this fucking town, Y/N. You step into it and suddenly you’re sixteen again and getting random boners all the time or whatever” Richie stated.

You turned your head slowly towards him and opened your mouth to respond before shutting it again. “I think that’s a you problem, Richie. I don’t blame Derry for that” you finally replied.

Richie hummed for a moment, in thought perhaps, and you smiled - staring out of the windows at the passing trees which had become more numerous. Wherever Mike was taking you was away from the main town strip. Despite this, you felt a bubble of excitement within you at whatever was waiting there. You weren’t particularly sure why.

“I think its Pennywise’s fault” you said suddenly, and Richie looked from the road to you, his eyebrow slightly raised.

“You think Pennywise is causing my random boners?” Richie asked and you rolled your eyes, shaking your head at his response.

“No the feeling of like… becoming a teenager again. We left here and essentially forgot about this place right? So maybe… I don’t know… now these memories are coming back and making us remember who we were then” you tried to explain, your hands moving around violently to emphasise your poorly worded points. Richie watched you, his eyes off the road, and he smiled. You turned to meet his gaze once you had noticed it and smiled sheepishly, shifting your gaze away in embarrassment.

“What?” you asked, shifting slightly in your seat.

“Nothing” he said quickly, his eyes moving to the road but a smile still upon his lips. “I mean, yeah uh, yeah you’re probably right. That fucking clown is probably the cause of most of the shit that goes down in this town”.

You nod your head, agreeing with Richie’s reply to your theory. Richie’s GPS indicated that you had arrived at the location Mike told you to meet. You watched Richie’s face as it changed, his jaw tightening as he pulled the car over to the side of the road, parking it. The sound of the engine turning off reached your ears only seconds later, however both you and Richie remained in the car. Richie continued to stare out of the front window, eyebrows furrowed in a harsh stare.

“We should probably get going… Mike will be waiting for us-“ you started but were interrupted by Richie’s exasperated voice.

“What if I don’t want to remember?” he said, his eyes shut tight as he shook his head. You sat within the silence following his statement, waiting for him to continue. “I mean Mike said he’s taking us out here, to the fucking middle of the woods, to help us remember stuff, right? What if I don’t wanna remember. What if I’ve already remembered enough stuff to realise I don’t wanna remember any more”.

Richie finally opened his eyes, turning his head and allowing you to gaze at him. His eyes were pleading a silent plea that you had seen before, but you couldn’t remember where or when.

His eyes said that he wanted you to tell him it was alright for the both of you to leave. He wanted you to tell him that he wasn’t a coward, he was a genius and this wasn’t his responsibility at all. He wanted you to say “You know what Rich? You’re right! Start this car right now and take me back to your house. Fuck Derry! Oh, by the way, I broke up with my Fiancé last night, so we can go and get eloped right now in Vegas if you’d like? But before we do that, why don’t we stop off at a hotel, preferably one outside of Derry, and finally screw each other!”. He wanted you to realise that both of you surviving past the next week wasn’t just an option, it was something he needed. He needed it because he hadn’t begun fearing death again (not since he was eighteen) until he had met your gaze in that restaurant yesterday. He wanted you both out of here. Out of Derry. Out of reach of It.

He also wanted you to do none of those things, because you knew it wasn’t what he really wanted. He knew it wasn’t what you wanted either. You couldn’t abandon your friends; he knew you would never do that. He didn’t want to do it either.  The thought of anything happening to Eddie…or Bill or Mike or Bev or Ben scared him to death. And he knew that you knew that.

As you stared back at Richie, and into those eyes screaming his silent pleas, you remembered where you had seen those eyes before.

~

“New York is shit anyway; I don’t know why you even wanna go there” Richie said. Despite being the young age of eighteen, his tone resembled that of an old businessman who had travelled often for work. The kind of man who preferred a vacation in Florida. The kind of man whose talents were sales, golf and tax evasion.

The two of you were laying in your childhood bed. You had your head resting gently upon his chest, as he held you tightly around the shoulder with one of his arms. His other hand lay behind his head as he stared up at your white ceiling. Your bedroom door was shut, which your parents had only started allowing since you had turned eighteen. Your father still didn’t agree with it. Despite this, there was always the chance one of your parents could burst into the room unannounced, so both you kept vigilant. The cuddling was innocent, of course, but they would not see it that way.

“What? Do you prefer LA or something?” You asked, almost rhetorically.

“Yeah I think I might” he said looking down towards you, laying upon his chest. You looked up at him, his hand behind his head and yours on his chest and around his waist, and you smiled.

“Since when have you been a West Coast guy?” you asked.

“Since forever! There’s still a lot you don’t know about me, doll” he said, his voice mirroring that of Elvis Presley as he spoke the pet name. You groaned and rolled your eyes but smiled at the boy. You had always loved his stupid voices.  His smile turned downwards ever so slightly and you frowned. “That’s why you shouldn’t leave”.

“Don’t ruin the mood again Richie” you replied, sighing.

“You’ll leave and become this big successful director and you’ll forget about me. But I won’t forget about you. And one day you’ll see me on the street in New York as you’re walking into your building and I’ll call your name and you’ll say ‘sorry I’m in a rush, no autographs’! Or worse, you’ll chuck some change at me!” he ranted and you shushed him, worried your parents would burst through your bedroom door and kick Richie out for trying to seduce you or something.

“I’m not going to forget you, okay Trashmouth? How could I forget someone as annoying as you?” you teased and he frowned, grabbing your cheek between his finger and thumb and squeezing it lightly with the hand that was once behind his head.

“I’m gonna miss your squishy cheeks” he said softly. You almost melted at the out of character sweetness of his actions. “All four of them” he finished.

And there it was.

You swatted his hand away as he laughed at his own joke. He continued to reach for your cheeks, and you continued to fight his hands away, trying to grab at his wrists. Frustrated by his persistence, you lifted yourself up to sit above him, straddling his lap between your thighs and pinning his wrists with your hands beside his head. You stared down at him, smiling triumphantly at your victory. Your smile began to drop as you noticed the serious expression he wore upon his face. His breathing was heavy and his cheeks were dusted with a faint pink you had rarely seen before. You both stared at each other, the only movement between the two of you being the rapid blinking of both of your eyelids. Finally, you released your grip on Richie’s wrists, beginning to sit up before he followed you, placing his hands behind your head and pulling you back down into his lips. He kissed you deeply, tilting his head and moaning at the feeling of your lips upon his. Finally. You kissed him back just as deeply, your hands going straight to his hair and losing yourself within it, tugging and pulling.

You both pulled back when you no longer had enough air and once again stared at each other. His eyes, they called out to you with a plea. You know what he wanted to say.

‘Stay. Don’t leave. I want you to stay with me here, please.’

And you would. If he said it, you would do it. You just needed him to say it.

“Y/N I…” he started.

Suddenly, your bedroom door flew open.

 ~

“Tell me what you wanted to tell me before I left for New York” you said and Richie began blinking nervously, shaking his head slightly.

“What? Why?” he asked.

“Because I need to hear you say it” you replied and he sighed, running his hand down his face.

“Uh, okay well… what I was planning to say was that I love you. I don’t know if an eighteen-year-old can really know what love is but to be fair I’m much older now and still don’t know. But I know that when I’m around you, I feel like I could do anything. Like, I feel as though I could do a stadium comedy tour with my own material if I knew you were waiting for me backstage. And I want to go do stupid shit with you like… go shopping at Ikea for a bookshelf or something. Stuff that middle-aged people do. I want to go to Amsterdam with you and get high and walk around the streets holding onto each other and thinking we’ve had a stroke because everyone around us is speaking weird English which is actually just Dutch” he continued to speak, a smile across his face until he looked at you, a stern expression growing upon his face slowly. “And I want to kill this stupid clown and I want us to do it together so that when all this shit is over, we can move on with our lives. Together”.

You stared at the man in disbelief. That wave of memories that had hit you so strongly at the restaurant yesterday, the wave that had literally swept you off your feet, was all Richie. It was as though being within his proximity flipped a switch within your brain, causing all these memories and emotions to flow freely. You had been consumed by the thought of his love when you were a child, you had been consumed by it yesterday and today, once again, it had almost swallowed you up whole. You continued to stare at him, mouth slightly agape.

“Please say something” Richie said, tapping his knee with his hand nervously.

You reached over to Richie and his nervousness seemed to fade. He moved his head towards you also, meeting you halfway in a soft kiss. Your hand rested upon his jaw and his upon yours. He cradled your head as you kissed, the softness of his lips leaving tingles throughout your body. You moved away from his lips ever so slightly, your noses still touching and your thumb still rubbing the stubble on his cheek lovingly.

“Once we’re done with Mike’s thing here, I’m calling my Fiancé, okay?” you said and Richie smiled widely, rubbing his nose gently on yours.

“Okay” he replied.

Tag list: @felicityofbakerstreet @emiliesnowflake @itsfuckinemily @adritozier @the-almond-dinger @brenna-xoxox @fionnthebandersnacc @simplymaddii18 @pinkdiamonddoingthings @frog-face-wolfhard @hair-dye-or-nawh @jutte-m @whosaskinguniverse @imagine-whatever @smokyscreen @sloppybitchardtozier @marlopoe @meaganjm @thexmancometh @letmereid @twitchmoosen @jojo-buttercup @gamingaquarius @sweetotismilburn (I hope this worked for everyone!)

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

secret son

A/N: this was requested by anonymous, I hope you enjoy, let me know what you think. I might make a part two with Richie and Eddie’s son getting to know each other a bit better if anyone wants to read that? How’s everyone doing during this time? 

Summary: Could you write a fic post it chapter 2 where months after the fight with Pennywise eddie shows up at richie's house with the ten year old son he didn't mention he had?

warning: some  homophobia (like really really brief though) 

Richie is nursing his third whiskey when a harsh knock on his door catches his attention. The scotch, a real one from Scotland with an earthy and smoky flavor that Richie only drinks when he’s feeling particularly sorry for himself, sways dangerously over the edge before stilling with only a drop off spillage when Richie hurries to steady the glass. 

The reason his emotion threaten to bury him tonight more than usual, is the texts he has received from Bill. It wasn’t a bad text, but he asked if Richie had any idea why Eddie  hadn’t answered his phone for a few days, and now Richie can’t stop his thoughts from spiraling. After reliving the same trauma twice, panic is the automated response when someone forgets to check in with them.

He’s being ridiculous, Richie tells himself, especially since he himself hasn’t texted Eddie in, well not since he left Derry. He packed his bags faster than Eddie had started walking again, choosing to run when he confessed the extent of his love for Eddie, and it was met with pure utter silence. His phone had started buzzing as soon as he crossed state lines, Eddie’s adult face pinched in annoyance gracing his cellphone screen, the photo he had taken during dinner the very first night after he won the game of arm wrestle, seemingly laughing at his expense. He didn’t pick up.

Of course he kept up with Eddie’s progress through the other losers, but he refrained from reaching out to Eddie on his own. Ever the coward, his traitorous mind provided with a hiss, the dark part of his mind growing a little everyday he wasn’t in contact with his best friend. Cause that was the place that Eddie still inhibited in his heart. He might have turned away from Richie’s feelings, but Richie still considered Eddie his closest friend, even if the opposite was true vise versa.

It’s his own fault anyway, if only he had some self-control, so he could stop the words from overflowing and his darkest secrets from tainting the perfect facade he had built around himself. When Bill texted that Eddie didn’t answer any calls or texts, Richie swallowed his pride and his embarrassment, sending a quick and short message Eddie’s way.

The white hotshame burned brighter than it had since Eddie turned Richie down when the former  went radio silent. Richie supposes that he had that one coming, but that didn’t stop it from hurting. Another insistent knock caused the pounding in Richie’s brain that to intensify, by whoever is knocking gets what they want, Richie downing the rest of the scotch in on go, slamming the glass against the counter and getting up. He has no clue who it could be.

The last person to drop by his apartment was his manager, after Richie had neglected his duties as a comedian once more, to rouse him from an alcohol induced slumber and get him ready from him show. Today is Richie’s off day though, so he knows that it can’t be him. The only person that Richie can think off is his neighbor asking to borrow something, but that doesn’t appear to be likely.  Whoever he was expecting to see, the man he left in a Derry hospital bed before said man was fit enough to leave was not it.

‘Eddie?’ Surprise crosses Richie’s face as soon as he makes eye contact with him, blinking dumbly behind his giant glasses who are sitting askew on his face. He looks good, a lot better than he did when Richie last saw him, white as a sheet and trembling from head to toe.

It hurts physically to see him up close again, while Richie wants nothing more than to reach forward and touch him, to hug him even in just a friendly way, but Richie figures that that is off limits. He can’t shake the look in Eddie’s eyes when he told him he loved him as more than friends, the look of pure and other fear, of him. Not Pennywise, but Richie, like not even being attacked by a killer clown was a terrifying as someone having a gay crush on you. He tries to focus on the now rather than reliving the moment that has haunted his dreams more than Pennywise.

‘What are you doing here Eds?’

Eddie’s face is doing that thing again where he can’t complete hide the fact that he is worried, but he’s trying his best to stay calm for someone else. It’s a sight that was thrown Richie’s way one too many times, often when he did something stupid and Eddie had to fix him up, but now Richie is unsure what could be the reason he’s sporting the look, until he lays on the little boy standing next to him.

With furrowed eyebrows, he stares at the kid who is clasping Eddie’s hand in his tightly. He can’t be more than six years old, his legs yattering with what Richie assumes is impatience, and he’s shamelessly staring at Richie. Kids don’t know any better he supposes.

The eyes strike recognition in a deep part Richie can’t name for himself, and suddenly, without any second guessing, he knows that the child is Eddie’s. A dead give away are the eyes, but also his general presence reminds him of a younger Eddie.

Something in his face must give him away, for when his gaze turn back to Eddie, all he does is nod. There are a thousand question Richie wants to ask him, for example why he never brought him up when they first reunited, or what they’re doing at his doorstep, but he notices how exhausted they look, and so he gestures with his head, giving them permission to enter the house.

‘Thanks Rich.’ At the sound of Eddie’s voice his body jolts, more aware than ever that a part of him went missing and he has no idea how to get it back or what to do about it.

Richie rushes back towards his kitchen, pushing past both Eddie and his kid, to hide the bottle of booze still out in the open. He’s not very subtle about it, and he can see on the judgment on Eddie’s face before it is carefully concealed.

‘So, what are you doing here Eds.’ Richie struggles to appear indifferent, but he is confused and dying to know why Eddie and his son where here, so he imagines that he’s not pulling it off very well.

Eddie glances at his son, still holding his hand and resisting the urge to pick him up. When he doesn’t respond straight away, Richie turns towards the boy, who is looking hesitantly up at him. His personality clearly mirrors Eddie’s,  his wariness having transfer onto the next generation.

‘What’s your name bud?’ Ever since he was little, Richie has this gift when it comes to children, being able to communicate with them, and understand them when adults write their quirks off as annoyances.

He used to have a bond with Georgie back when he was still alive, and despite the usual horror stories off siblings, he got along great with his sister once she was born. He’s hoping that whatever charm helped him do that, will help him form a band here.

‘My name’s Matthew, but everyone calls me Matt.’ He seemed to be shy, toying with the hem of his shirt.

‘Are you my dad’s best friend?’ Richie blushed a bright red, since he not really knew what the answer was supposed to be. He assumes he still is, but he’s unclear about what Eddie might have told matt.

Thankfully, Eddie answers for him. ‘Yeah he is Matt.’ For a moment it’s quiet again, and the room fills with an awkward tension, neither Eddie nor Richie knowing where to go from here.

‘Is there somewhere Matt can explore?’ Eddie inquires eventually, the extra meaning behind his words crystal clear to him.

We need to talk, but not with my son in the room.

The apartment is not nearly big and all composing enough for a child to be able to go exploring, there’s only really 5 rooms in total, a kitchen, living room, the main bedroom and a guest bedroom and bathroom, none of which are necessarily child proof.  

He does have a PlayStation attached to the tv in the guest bedroom however, even though he rarely uses it, and so he figures that’s the best place to direct Matt too.

‘You wanna go play a game buddy?’

Matt peers up at his dad, who nods reassuringly, giving him a gently push Richie’s way.

He waits for Matts affirmative nod before leading the way.  It’s a miracle the thing works, as it’s been for three years completely unattended, but as soon as it starts Matthew jumps up and down excitedly when he sees the Mario kart logo pop up.

Richie leaves him with the door open just an inch, so that Eddie can still see him from the living room. ‘Do you want something to drink?’

‘No thank you I’m good.’  

The awkwardness lays heavy on Richie. Things have never been uncomfortable with Eddie before, and he knows that it’s his fault that it is now. He wants to make a joke, or steer the conversation into safe waters with light topics to talk about, but he’s also aware that there has to be a reason why Eddie would show up to talk to him this late, without a phone call or any sort of notice. Because Richie’s brain is still muffled by the alcohol and he can’t think of a joke to make, he decides to ask the obvious first.

‘You didn’t text me back, Eds.’ It’s a stupid thing to stay, Richie knows considering  he didn’t call Eddie back for months, but the question is out in the open and there’s no taking it back anymore.

‘My phone died on the way here.’

‘You fucking drove here? If you wanted to see me that bad you could have boarded a plane.’ Richie cringes when he hears himself speak. That was a quip he was used to making, but one that no doubt  caused internal disgust in the other man.  

‘I left Myra, and I need a place to crash.’ Eddie opts to say, despite it not being an answer to the question. For a moment Richie fears he might pass out, stumbling backwards but managing to keep upright thanks to the chair behind him. Out of all the possible explanations he was prepared for, this was not it.

‘Wh- why did you do that?’ Richie’s voice is shaking, his attempt to steady only being futile. He’s thrown for a loop so bad, that he forgets to conceal his shocked reaction. It’s out in the open, how Richie longs for him, but the least he could do was have the decency to cover it up.

‘Because,’ Eddie peeks past Richie to see Matt, who is fully focused and engaged in the game, before gaining enough courage to say what comes next.

‘Because I’m gay.’ He manages to spit out, his hands shaking by his side while he stares intently at Richie.

Richie has never been hit before. He’s been punched before and even kicked, yet never hit, but he imagines it feels somewhat like the words Eddie just breathed to life.

It’s strange since kid Richie would have done anything in the world to hear those words coming from Eddie, to the point where at night in his bed he would imagine scenarios in which he would utter them, but the situation at hand is very different than the one he fantasized about.

The fact of the matter is, that Eddie is not homophobic like Richie suspected him to be after his reaction, he just reacted disgusted because it was Richie, and that hurt even worse. He knows his not a catch. He woke up one day in college and saw himself for what he really was, a below average looking guy whose only talent was making jokes that would annoy others, with a ridiculous loud voice. And as he got older he only got worse, but he hadn’t expected that Eddie would use that against him.

He thought that Eddie might have let him down easier, but he guesses he just has that effect on people. His first instinct is to snap back in his hurt, to reply somewhat cruelly so that his feeling don’t show, but then he comes to the conclusion that he was just in Eddie shoes a few months ago, and he can recall exactly how scared and how disheartened he had been when he received negative comments, and he can’t do that to Eddie. Maybe to someone else, but not to Eddie.

Instead he replies with; ‘Oh well congrats for coming out. Welcome to the team Spagheds.’

Apparently, it’s not the reaction Eddie expected, for his face falls and his eyebrows furrow, confusion written all over his face.

‘Rich. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, it’s just that -.’ Richie interrupts him before he can say something else.

‘Hey, it’s fine. I get it. I wouldn’t tell the guy that made me uncomfortable either.’

Eddie blinks rapidly, opening his mouth but Richie intercepts, trying desperately to keep his feeling at bay.

‘Do you want to crash here for tonight? We can order pizza and watch a movie. Or whatever Matthew likes to eat is fine by me. I’ll get some extra sheets because I know you’d be disgusted if you found out what kind of action I’ve been getting. Not like I’m still hung up about a rejection, can you imagine?’ He laughs uneasily, scrambling to get together an extra sleeping kit, ignoring Eddie as best he can.

‘Rich’, he calls his attention, and despite being embarrassed, Richie would follow Eddie into anything, so he stops dead in his tracks and turns towards him.

‘I have a son.’

‘Yeah, I kind of figured that out Eds. I have eyes, he looks a lot like you.’

Eddie rolls his eyes in annoyance, huffing to convey how stupid Richie acts sometimes.

‘When you told me you liked me,’ Richie shrinks down, his shoulder turning in on themselves to make himself as small as possible, ‘I was worried you might feel different about me, because I am a dad.’

‘I could never, Eds. I just don’t understand why you didn’t mention him before.’

A sigh leaves Eddie’s lips, a sad smile gracing his lips. ‘I was worried IT might find out and use it against me. Besides, I didn’t even remember you guys all that well in the beginning. I was just scared.’

Richie gets it a little bit. When he was younger he was terrified IT might take his sister, and he would have done anything to prevent that. So he understands why Eddie wouldn’t say anything back in Derry, but why not after? Why didn’t he say anything when they left. Then again, it’s not like they talked a lot post clown fight two.

A thought suddenly downs on Richie then. ‘Wait, did Myra just like you take Matt with you?’

Eddie’s face turns bright red, a guilty look crossing over his features. Richie eyes turn wide as saucers.

‘Eddie, do not tell me you kidnapped your son’, Richie whispers screams, panic taking over as he thinks things through. It’s Myra, and from what he heard about her, she’s pretty much the same as Sonia, which means that she has no problem calling the police.

‘You could get arrested.’

‘Only if she calls the cops,’ Eddie hisses back, his body locked in anger, like he’s a bomb that is very dangerously close to exploding, quitting down when he sees Matt’s head peeking through the crack in the door. He waits until Matt is turned back towards his game to continue.

‘Look, I told her that I was gay, and she told me to get everything that’s mine out of her house immediately, anything that I had ‘infected with your homosexuality’. So I took me son with me. I wasn’t going to leave him there.’

All at once, the fight leaves him, and he crouches down on the couch, his head in his hands while he begins to sob. It produces back a memory, from a time where he had to go over to Richie’s house to tell him he was leaving Derry and not coming back, and Richie hurries to ban the thought out of his head before he joins in.

‘Two days ago, Matt fell of his bike in our backyard, and when he did he started practically screaming. I’m sure it hurt a little, but he was crying hysterically, and he begged me not to tell his mom, because she would freak out.’ Eddie’s eyes filled with tears focus on Richie’s, who is slowly making his way over to sit next to him. ‘Then he asked me if he would get really sick now because of the dirt on the ground that must have gotten into his wound.’

Eddie laughs humorlessly. ‘I though that by staying with Myra I would do him a favor.  I was just trying to protect him. I can’t believe I was convinced staying with Myra would be good for him. She’s exactly like my mother Rich, and I didn’t protect him.’

Despite better judgment, Richie puts his arm around Eddie, shuffling closer so that their knees are touching, and Eddie gracefully accepts, leaning further into Richie so he’s practically a pillow, a sob wrenching from his throat.

‘You did protect him Eds, you moved with him right? He’s gonna know that his dad did that for him, because you loved him.’ Placing his chin on the top of Eddie’s head, Richie breathes in deeply, forcing himself to stop from being overly affectionate, even when he’s clearly failing.

‘When Myra told me she was pregnant, I freaked out. I love my son, I would do anything for him and I wouldn’t give him up for anything in this whole wide world, but when I saw the pregnancy tests, all I could think was ‘oh god please no’. I’m a terrible father.’

Richie shakes his head determinately. ‘Eds, look at me. That’s normal, we went through some tough shit when we were kids, even if we didn’t remember it. You love him, and you look after him, and trust me, none of those are attributes to being a bad parent like you claim you are.

Eddie sniffles, placing one of his hands against Richie’s cheek, who embarrassingly enough nuzzles against it like a wounded dog would to a loving touch.

‘I’m sorry Richie. I really am. I love you. I think I somehow always have, even when I forgot, but I was so fucking scared when you told me, that I turned you away. As soon as I did I regretted it though, but I didn’t want to scare you off, and I didn’t want to put Matt through that change. Can we start over? I just really want to try this again.’

Richie is almost scared to believe the words coming from Eddie, but hope blossoms in his chest anyway. The piece that had cracked when he was turned away seem to magically fix itself, making his heart feel whole again.

‘You want me to confess my love for you again? Jees demanding much? You know your mom was the exact same way, always needing reassurance that our night together felt as good to me as it did to her.’

‘I changed my mind. And to think I was about to thank you for being serious for the entire conversation.’

Despite the meaning of the words, Richie can’t help but laugh when he sees the face Eddie is pulling, cheeringly outwardly when Eddie breaks and laughs alongside him.

Matt comes out of the room to check out what the commotion is about, a childlike glee all over his face when he sees his dad happier then he had ever been. ‘Can we order Pizza please?’ He begs Eddie with the same puppy dog eyes Eddie used to own when they were young themselves.

Richie grins at the boy, and while Eddie is pretending to contain plate it Richie nods excitedly, causing him to giggle with glee.

‘Alright’, Eddie eventually pretends to give in, watching as Matt jumps up and down in pure joy. He looks like the kind of child that has an endless supply of energy, and Richie can’t wait to find out more about him. This is the son of the man he loves, and if Matthew is even half the person Eddie is, than Richie loves him already.

‘Hey Matt, we’re going to stay with Richie for a while longer okay? If you don’t have anything against that?’

Matt just shrugs, eager to get back to the game and get some eat some food. ‘Sure.’

‘oh, we can’t tell mom though, she’ll freak knowing I ate pizza.’

‘Shit’, Eddie curses as soon as Myra’s name comes back up. Matt glares at him, placing a finger on his lips as an indication to be silent, and Richie can’t help but titter.

‘We’ll figure it out Eds, we always do.’

And if Richie spend the next few weeks looking for a new house for them to move into, well then that is just them figuring it out.

[seancekitsch]

Making up for Lost Time: The Epilogue

Requested by: eh, a few of you wanted this when i mentioned it and i can’t let Stanley the Manley go

Just to be safe....Warnings for the series include: canon issues including self harm, attempted suicide, emotional trauma, mentioned disordered eating, the clown, anxiety, adult Bill Denbrough’s personality, book and movie canon being merged together because I like to play god, a twin peaks reference?? light smut and my terrible vocabulary, canon events.

But this is lighter and fluffier this is basically just being together forever and gross cute

-You open up your apartment to Stan right away, but relationship wise other than living together you move very slowly at first. There is no fear of death or shape shifting clown making you tear each other apart.

-He finds a job rather easily. Being an accountant, his role is necessary anywhere in the country. He could move out within a few weeks, but it would be pointless knowing he would move right back in eventually. He also doesn’t think he could sleep in Seattle without you in his arms.

-Your first date is at a roadhouse dive bar ten days after he arrives. There’s loud live music, which Stan never really cared for, but the way your face lights up when the band plays an updated version of an old Roy Orbison tune... he couldnt picture anywhere else he would rather be.

-Between the French fries and the beers and you gently singing along to him, it’s a sad kind of happy that he realizes this is what he’s wanted his whole life and that he’s missed so much. He vows from then on to start making up for lost time.

-Stanley Uris truly lays on the charm for the entire six months the two of you can last before a poorly planned last minute marriage that only the losers attended. Taking it slowly is short lived.

-You wore the first white dress you could find. It was vintage and it wasn’t formal, but Stan thought you looked like royalty. He wore a suit he would wear to work on any given day.

-Richie officiated; you had joked with him on the phone about becoming a minister beforehand not realizing he would actually get his minister credentials. Bev was maid of honor, Mike was best man. Ben wrote a beautiful short poem and read it in lieu of vows, and Bill gave the beautiful wedding gift of employment in editing his next book turned tv series scripts.

-The two of you settle into married life like it was meant for the two of you. Maybe it was. You pack each other little lunches for work and give each other back rubs after long days. Weekend mornings running errands and having sex after putting away the groceries. It’s all grossly domestic but it feels like instinct.

-Stan is riskier sex wise than he had ever been in his adult life with you. Sure there’s love making, but neither of you feel pressure when enjoying each other’s bodies. You’re not trying for kids, you’re not trying to prove your attraction to each other. There’s just messy hands and lips all over your bodies and exploring.

-You have car sex for the first time since Stan first got his drivers license in high school. You have sex in mall bathrooms. You’ve done some out on your balcony that you’re sure your neighbors did not appreciate. It’s like you can’t get enough of each other anywhere. And you LOVE IT.

-Some nights there are nightmares for the two of you to get through. You dream of him finishing what he started in the bathtub, and he dreams of that moment in the kitchen when his own corpse attacked you and you let it. You wake up crying into each other’s skin and hold one another close, soothing the pain and sealing it back into the past.

-As glad as you are to remember each other and the losers, the two of you have a pretty strict “the past stays in the past” rule besides them. There’s a lot of trauma and bad feelings that don’t even involve the clown that you both wish you still didn’t remember. But that being said, you’re more than supportive to each other when you can’t block it out.

-You see Richie and Bill most often due to work and proximity. It is a quick flight for the two of you to spend the weekend in Beverly Hills with Richie at his house or to Northern California to the set of Bill’s new tv series.

-Richie ends up coming out as bi and ends up with a man who looks surprisingly like dear late Eddie. His ex wives have a lot to say to the press about this relationship. You and Stan really like his new partner and invite them up to Seattle for holidays from now on. When they adopt a little girl, you become the godparents.

-You and Stan go on a lot of vacations together. You like to travel and experience new things and go to museums together. His favorite place you’ve ever taken him is the bird hall in the natural sciences museum in London. He spent three whole hours in there with his notebook sketching and taking notes on rare birds he had never seen besides in paintings. He couldn’t thank you enough for surprising him with that little detail of the trip.

-It works out well because he handles all of the budgeting and logistics like hotels, and you handle the day to day activities. You fill in all of the details that his logistics lay the groundwork for.

-About a year in, you get matching tattoos. Stan never wanted one or saw himself having one, but the scar on his wrist wouldn’t disappear like the one on his hand did and he hated to look at it. You help him design it. It’s a simple black-capped chickadee taking flight. The state bird of Maine and flight promising future and change. Yours goes onto the opposite wrist than his.

-Stan also starts to take Judaism seriously again after all of this. Mostly when things are hard to cope with, he turns to his faith. You always go to the synagogue with him if he wants you to, but sometimes it’s somewhere he has to go to alone. He always comes back a little clearer headed, the logical level headed Stan you know.

-About five years after your return to Derry, Patty Uris actually sends Stan an email inviting them two of you to her wedding. You go, and just like he hoped, he and his ex wife can stay friends. She understood what they both needed, and he couldn’t thank her enough for being the great person she was. And you couldn’t thank her enough for being there for Stanley when he needed her.

-He loves the fall in Seattle with you, it’s rainy and so much colder than his old home in Atlanta and there’s so much time to sit cuddled up in front of your big window and watching the birds fly and the leaves fall.

-There are moments when the two of you have forgotten how much time has past, and you still see each other as the nervous teens you were when you first fell for each other. You never lose that spark of young love, no matter how comfortable you get around one another.

-And when 27 more years roll by, the two of you don’t even notice. You’re looking forward to your 26th wedding anniversary soon, and there’s a party with all of your childhood friends and their kids and grandkids and you have to get ready.

And that’s a wrap i love Stanley Uris 🧡🧡🧡

[soulwillower]

separate seas • bill denbrough

(bill denbrough x plus size!reader)   

requested: Hi! Can I request another fic? I was thinking a Bill Denbrough x plus size reader were the reader was Bill’s next door neighbour who survived a Pennywise attack. When the Losers reunite Mike suggests to meet up with the reader because she wants to kill Pennywise the most. She now stutters (much like Bill did) and is very reclusive. It's not a full idea but I think you could write something great! Thanks!

warnings: swearing, fluff, poorly written, unedited

i was going to make it angsty but i just couldn't write it for some reason, im sorry  <3 i dont know how i feel about this, i’ve been trying to write for a while and have been discouraged /feeling bleh abt my writing but i truly hope u guys enjoy this!

[takes place during the events of chapter 2]

2.2k words

♡

bill was floored at the emotions that coursed through him at mike’s words. of course, he was already floored by the sheer amount of information and memories that had taken to his mind like a brick wall to the face - poorly - so why did this brick wall hit so much harder than the other? mike’s words ring in bill’s ears like a church bell.

y/n, we have to go see y/n.

the air of the jade orient becomes increasingly stale and bill has to wipe his face with his forearm. he remembers suddenly a book he’d written nearing ten years prior to this moment, titled the plague of dawn.  it makes him frown in confusion. why did he think of that?

the book wasn’t anything special, in fact it was one of his lowest-grossing novels, despite it being one of his own personal favorites. there was a protagonist who was investigating the death of a young boy, and a mysterious love interest - a woman who was bright but with a troubled past and, from what bill remembers writing, a curvy figure and stunning eyes.

odd to remember that in such a time, but he supposes everything has been odd tonight. but bottom line, it was nothing special. in fact, the novel had been very cheesy, but it had stuck with him in this moment for some unknown reason.

y/n.... bill remembers cloudy memories of a girl with bright eyes and laughter. he sees his house, next to it, a blue one; georgie, with a bright smile, running up to a girl who came out of the garage of the blue house to the left. she hugs him and his arms squeeze around her middle, his face half buried in her soft stomach. he remembers thinking she is beautiful. 

looking around, he sees that the others are slowly remembering her too, but he thinks briefly that they certainly have different memories.

“not that i don’t miss her, but… why y/n?” bev asks. the pieces were falling into place, it seemed, all at the same time in their own heads. “wait. didn’t she go to the hospital for-“ eddie starts rushed, but richie snaps a few times as he speaks up.

“oh, fuck. wait- It. It got her, right? and she survived?” richie says, fingers pressing on his head as he squints. he looks just as pained as bill feels when  memories of her - and of It - fill his senses.

your eyes. your laugh. your hair. your skin. your silhouette. the bedsheets bill would sometimes catch a glimpse of when he looked out his own window. much like the ones he wrote for the plague of dawn’s  - oh.

bill can’t help but drop his head into his palms in realization - had he written a character based off of a repressed memory of a childhood crush? christ.

“…she was bill’s neighbor.” ben adds, looking puzzled. everyone turns to look at bill, and he swallows. “y-uh, y-yeah. i r-remember.” and he does. "sh-she was attacked right at the beginning of the s-summer." it's silent. "she wants It dead more than anyone. we need her help." mike says, standing up.

and then twenty minutes later, bill finds himself on an unfamiliar porch step with five of his childhood friends, staring at an unopened door. why is he so fucking anxious to see her? will she remember him? will she care?

mike has to knock three times before the door opens, revealing a woman that makes bill's breath falter.

“h-holy shit.” the woman mutters, eyes flickering between everyone on her porch step. those eyes. bill would recognize them anywhere. she looks different than he remembers, but more than likely she’s matured just as much as him in the last twenty some years. she looks really good.

"y/n." mike says, giving her a tight-lipped smile. bill watches her, her face even and unrevealing. she doesn't try to hug anybody. there’s a long, staggering scar that pokes through the collar of her shirt, and yes, now bill knows for sure that this is his old neighbor, y/n. 

she seems to have the same eyes, the same face. he wonders briefly if she remembers him the way he remembers her.

“what’s g-going on?” she says, looking suspicious of the group in front of her, eyes flitting over everybody with little to no emotion. it feels like a cool breeze blows down the spine of everyone present. 

bill takes in her figure and swallows, shocked to be seeing her so suddenly. she catches his eyes and recognition flickers in the depths of her face, a small quirk of her lips betraying her menacing stare.

“caroling group.” richie deadpans, bringing everyone back down to the present as his hands are in his pockets and he’s rocking on his heels. bill barely spares a glance behind him to richie as he stares at y/n. does she have a stutter too? she didn’t always have it. the look on her face is mysterious and pained.

"we need your help." mike says, giving her a look. as bill watches her reaction, he can’t help but feel like the seven of them were all swimming in separate seas at the same time, being masked by a false sense of belonging. was this going to work? could they really do it? 

y/n seems to understand grimly, like she feels whatever this is too, as she takes in the faces of people she hadn't seen in years. but then she turns away, walking back into her house. bill blinks.

at first he thinks she's abandoning them, but then she waves her hand expectantly. she does actually invite them in, leaving bill to watch in curiosity as she leads them to a back room in her house, seemingly unwillingly. she seems determined, but not very excited. he doesn't blame her.

they all sit awkwardly as mike and y/n talk about the summer of '89.

"our wh-whole town was full of nightm-mares. not just It." y/n shrugs, the cloud of mystery and self-isolation wrapping her up and pulling her farther and farther out of bill's reach.

"b-bowers." bill says, noticing how y/n's eyes dart to ben's quickly. she and ben went through very similar situations with bowers and the memory of their fucked up childhood makes bill's head spin.

"th-that doesn't matter r-right now." y/n says dismissively, waving her hand. bill stares at the table as he remembers the the character he wrote in the plague of dawn - the love interest had been tormented relentlessly, particularly for her weight.

god, how awful is that? bill didn't even mean to, but he had essentially broadcasted y/n's life into a novel.

“y-you punched him, once.” bill blurts, a laugh escaping his lips. y/n looks at him and for the first time, she looks like her old self, smiling and happy. 

“y-yeah, i suppose i d-did, bill. he d-d-deserved it.” she says, smug look quickly retreating back to the wall of blank emotion. something stirs him on, “you got that r-right. it was inc-credible, that was th-the best thing i’d e-ever seen. i was o-obsessed with y-you.” 

its silent and bill realizes what he just said.  “well this is awkward.” richie says with a grin, nudging both ben and eddie’s sides. they just give him a look. y/n’s smirking at the table and bev is grinning at bill with a knowing look. 

"-we're going to kill It." mike says, voice wavering only slightly, breaking the tension. and just like that, the moment is over. bill shivers but he nods, looking over richie, to eddie, to bev, then ben, mike, and finally y/n.

"yeah, well. f-fighting I-It wasn't too easy, i'm sure you kn-know." y/n says shortly, her fingers ghosting over the scar on her chest. bill's stomach flutters with something between fear and admiration. he remembers - she doesn't have to say it. they're all remembering.

she had been outside in the ravine down the street by herself when pennywise had found her. bill remembers sirens, he remembers the blood as she stumbled across the street towards their houses. he remembers watching her get carried to the hospital and then riding silver down to the clubhouse to tell the others. he doesn't remember much else from that summer, just a whole lot of pain and fear. but he remembers not hearing her voice much, or seeing her nearly at all those days. he had missed her, but he'd never said anything.

the bubbly girl was not quite there anymore.

she speaks up and immediately pull bill's attention from his thoughts. "but this time, we're a-all going to b-be together. It is g-going to die."

after the conversation and getting y/n to agree (which wasn't very hard, she was very determined), bill was left with a bitter taste in his mouth and a pit in his stomach. it was weird being back in derry, and catching y/n's eye, he could tell she thought it was weird for them to be back too.

bill was exhausted and thought he might be sick, head swirling around with images of the jade of the orient, of stan, of pennywise, and georgie. he feels empty, and so he can’t help himself from asking y/n to come back and grab a drink at the townhouse.

he needs a distraction, or something. something. 

she had shaken her head, but instead taken him by the elbow and told him she had a full bottle of scotch in her cabinet. he was shocked to receive an invitation to stay longer at the reclusive y/n’s house, considering how withdrawn she’d been (understandably) this whole time, but he eagerly told the others he would see them back at the townhouse. he ignores richie when he makes lewd gestures through the window as they all leave.  

when they’re in her house alone, she places what is indeed a full bottle of unopened, aged scotch on her table unceremoniously as her hair shines in the lamplight and her clothes cling to her shape.

he tries not to linger his eyes on her body but can’t help to admire her curves and how soft her skin looks as she places a glass in front of him, pouring out three fingers, no rocks.

he doesn’t flinch, completely intending on finishing this glass and then some if he’s going to do this whole fucking thing.

"it’s from the t-trauma." she says and he blinks at her, confused. she smirks lightly, as if mocking herself. "the stutter." she elaborates, and he nods slowly. he understands that.

"m-mine came back wh-when i did." he explains. it’s quiet again and he watches as she pours her own glass. he’s slightly thrown off as he watches her move the bottle over to set it on top of a stack of paperback novels. he skims the stack, his eyes catching bold lettering: THE PLAGUE OF DAWN.

he almost laughs, but his stomach  coils tightly with something akin to embarrassment.

his body carries him to pick the book up, plopping back down after it's clutched in his hands. “d-did you read this?” he asks, looking at her with a raised brow.

she grins, not looking a single bit ashamed. “y-yeah, i did.”

well, fuck. 

“the m-main character, it’s…” he starts, unsure how to say it. but she never left, she never forgot anything - did she notice? 

she nods slowly, face flushing. “i’ve talked with mike long en-enough to know you didn’t remember me wh-when you w-wrote it. i just… i can’t help but n-notice…”

“it’s you, y/n. i d-didn’t- i don’t think i really kn-knew it then. wh-when i wrote it, i kn-knew i was writing about my ch-childhood, i just- i didn’t realize…i’m s-sorry.”

“i know.” she says simply and there it is again, the mysterious shroud that prevents bill from knowing y/n y/l/n fully. its awkward for a moment, and then : “did you at least l-like it?”

she cracks a grin as she sips on her scotch. she’s beautiful and it makes bill blush almost like he’s 13 again and completely unsure how to flirt with this woman.

“well, i don’t know. y-you killed me off, b-bill. wh-who kills off the l-love interest before they get any c-closure?” she says, lifting a brow. bill can’t help the sheepish grin nor the blush from creeping onto his face. 

"its f-fucked!" she adds. he can't help but huff a laugh, feeling eerily similar to how he used to feel when he was young. and he was okay with that.

“n-no it isn’t- i just, i- people l-loved it, okay.” he defends half-heartedly, knowing it to be untrue. she laughs openly at this, watching him as he thumbs through the pages of his own words, looking embarrassed.

“it’s so c-cute that you think that, b-bill.” she says coyly. he looks up from the book then, a grin of his own on his face as his cheeks dust pink. she’s pulling his leg. 

"you- er, i just c-can't believe th-this all happened." he mutters, scratching his head. she lifts a brow and it flusters him again so he tries to add on. "and i wish th-that i hadn't forgotten it. y-you, particularly." his words come out awkwardly and he feels like a dumbass.

“p-poetic, denbrough.” she grins, hands grabbing his shoulders gently. he grins at her, raising his hands to her shoulder and another to her waist, squeezing the soft skin. he shrugs, "what can i s-say, i-"

and then before he can add anything more, she closes the gap, leaning to press her lips against his. it's soft at first, as if being gentle after the black hole of trauma they are soon to reopen. 

it’s bold and shocking and surprising. 

but bill moves his lips against hers and they both come to life, kissing fiercely as the world stops around them. there's pain in the kiss, there's devastation, there's fear. but there’s also light, there's love. he feels it all as she kisses him.

when they pull apart, bill looks at her with wide eyes. "that was- unexpected." he says as she stares up at him. he can't tear his eyes away from her and she shrugs, staring back in shock,"i-i’m sorry." she says quickly, hands still holding her face. she stares up at him, "d-did i fuck it up, th-though?"

she looks like she already knows the answer but wants to hear him say it for himself.

he shakes his head, "d-don’t think so, y-y/n." he pulls her in for another kiss and she sighs into his mouth, holding him tightly.

 there’s still a looming sense of dread over their heads, staring down at them with its ugly impending danger. but he has her in his arms and he can’t believe it. 

and maybe, it'll be okay. maybe these separate seas aren’t too different.