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antisociallilbrat · 3 years

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Lover Of Mine

Read on Ao3

Rating: T

Gift for @derrydeer

Summary: Of course the losers fell in love with him. He was the sun and them but the susceptible planets. The thing about being in love with Bill Denbrough though, it hurts.

Bill could be an enigma, even to the ones who’ve known him the longest.

Or my second and unexpected work for the Fourth Poly Losers Exchange

Warnings and Prompt under cut

Warnings: Minor disordered eating, Cigarette use and brief drunkenness

Prompt: “Six times Bill left them, and the time he stayed” 5 to 1, ending in each one of his partners showing him how much they love him

At one point in each of the Losers’ lives, they realized they had fallen in love with Bill Denbrough. And who could blame them? It’s easy to fall in love with someone who’s brave enough to stand tall, stutter and bolden blue-eyed, and stare the Devil down. He did that, and he brought all of them back to safety because he was him. Bill was brave but more importantly he had this way about making someone feel seen.

When you were having a conversation with Bill Denbrough, he wasn’t looking at the color or the weight of your skin. He could care less if you wheezed on every breath or didn’t know how to take a breath when talking. He didn’t judge you based on what rumors had been spoken by the adults and mean kids alike, he only cared what you were saying. Talking to Bill Denbrough made you feel like you could face the mightiest of dragons and jump off the highest of cliffs.

Of course, the Losers fell in love with him. He was the sun and them but the orbiting planets. The thing about being in love with Bill Denbrough though, it hurts.

Bill could be an enigma, even to the ones who’ve known him the longest. The inner working of Bill’s mind was more complicated than one would guess at first glance. As much bravery was stored there, there was as much guilt. A feeling that haunted him, constantly constricted around his chest and crushing his ribs, so intense he could feel it in the hollows of his bones.

It tightened every time the sunlight glinted off of the scars that haloed Stan’s face. It itched in the back of his teeth every time he watched Eddie scrub raw at his hands, trying to get the sewage he still saw from underneath his nails. It threatened to drown him every time Mike would flinch at any sound of a bang, the sound of the bolt pistol still ringing in his ears.

To Bill Denbrough, he considered himself unlovable. What kind of person leads his friends into the depths of the sewers chasing the ghost of his little brother? He’s the reason they will never be whole again, their missing pieces lost beneath the gravel of Derry. Was the price of winning worth the cost? Most days he’s not sure.

The Losers loved Bill, but he couldn’t even love himself so how could he ever be who they needed him to be? So he distanced himself the moment they got to college. It was more painful than guzzling push pins, but it would be better this way for them. College was supposed to be their glory years anyways, they would hardly notice him missing.

From a distance he watched them start to love each other in a way he could only dream of being a part of. He’d spot them across campus, Ben and Richie holding hands, or at parties, Bev, Stan, and Richie doing shots, and laughing. In the library he’d see Mike and Eddie hunched over the same book, reading together, smiling. He was so happy for them even though it tore him up inside. It was just better this way he’d remind himself, they don’t need him.

It pained them to watch Bill separate himself from them. They weren’t complete without him, like a train with no engine, but trying to have a conversion with Bill Denbrough nowadays is like trying to capture rising smoke with your fingertips. Maybe it would make them feel better if they saw him having fun, make it hurt less if they knew that Bill leaving wasn't because he didn’t love them. It was the years of guilt, of him never letting anyone inside that festered to a boiling point. They knew he loved them, he just wouldn’t allow himself to be with them.

Ben is the only one out of the group who still gets to see him regularly. They share English 101. Ben sits in the front and Bill sits all the way in the back, purposely making it hard for Ben to see him. Bill always slips into class at the last minute and is always the first one out the doors when it’s over. It kind of hurts Ben’s feelings, does he really think that he’s going to confront him in front of everyone?

He sometimes will steal glances at him, just needing reassurance that Bill’s still real. He almost regrets it each time. Bill is all sharp angles now, cheeks gaunt and his collarbones poke out of t-shirts, and he wonders when was the last time Bill ate something other than vending machine chips. There are purple eye bags under what are now dull blue eyes and makes Ben want to help, but Bill won’t look at him. Bill doesn’t look at anyone in the class, which incites the Professor's rage one day.

“Mr. Denbrough! Are you wasting your money on a spot to daydream or do you actually plan to learn something in this class?!” Professor Todd booms.

Ben flinches, but when he looks back at Bill, because he has to check on him, he smiles. Bill is staring down at the Professor, his lower lip trembling. Not in fear, no, Ben knows this, but in anger. It’s the first emotion he’s seen Bill have since coming to school. The Professor smirks, raising his eyebrows, mistaking his look of defiance for a look of a boy on the verge of tears. Ben watches with bated breath…only for Bill to slump back in his seat with a “Sorry Pr-Professor.”

The class resumes but Ben can’t tear his eyes away, unbelieving what he just witnessed. For the first time, Ben doesn’t take complete notes in class, his mind running away from what’s going on around him in the room. All the way back to the sewers.

When the Professor excuses them after class, Ben bolts out the door and after Bill. He can’t let him get away, not this time.

“Bill! Bill, wait up!” he shouts, apologizing to the people he accidentally knocks into.

For a brief moment, he gets scared that Bill is going to disappear into the crowd, that he’s going to ignore him. But Bill is still Bill and very reluctantly he stops. He leans against the hallway’s wall and stares at the toes of his converse. They still have the smiley faces Richie drew on them during their junior year of high school.

Ben is giddy when he catches up to Bill, he doesn’t even care that he won’t look at him, it’s just nice to be back in his presence. That is until he realizes he had no plan when he chased Bill after class. “I’m sorry about Professor Todd.” There’s no need for him to apologize about what had happened in class, but he just needs an excuse to talk to Bill.

Bill glances up and those blue eyes still take the breath out of Ben’s lungs. “It’s okay, Professor Tuh-Todd is d-dick.”

“He is, isn’t he,” he agrees, a smile cracking across his face. Bill starts to shuffle on his feet like he’s fighting the urge to walk away and Ben is just not ready for that yet, “So um…we have that poetry due next week, and I was thinking that if you wanted to I could help you out,” Bill shoots him a look he can’t read, “Only if you wanted too though! I know you struggle with poetry, not that you’re bad at it of course! It’s just you used to always complain about it and writing fiction was always-”

“It’s fine Ben,” he huffs, amusement playing in his voice. Ben was rambling, and Bill didn’t mind, he never minded, and the small smile he gives Ben makes his heart soar. It can’t last though. Bill’s small smile drops almost as fast as it came, “I already have my puh-poem done, thanks any-anyways.” Bill pushes off the wall and leaves, turning his back to Ben.

Helplessly he watches their fearless leader disappear into the crowd.

When Richie sees Bill for the first time in two months it’s a complete accident. It wasn’t like he was looking for him, not like the others discreetly and constantly do in the crowds around campus. Because if Richie’s being honest, he’s angry at Bill.

He hates Bill for having a savior complex and he hates how the others hurt because they miss him so. Most importantly and selfishly he hates Bill for leaving him. They were the dynamic duo. Batman and Robin, to which they had many arguments over who was who.

So Richie being Richie, he tried to forget that Bill even existed when Bill started distancing himself from them. It didn’t work. Instead, he always imagined that when he finally did see Bill again, they were going to fight it out. It’s how they handled things when they were younger. That doesn’t happen, because like mentioned earlier, he didn’t plan on seeing Bill when he did.

He was out with some friends from his Theater Arts class, and not the losers for once. It was late on a Saturday night and they had just left a bar, heading down the twenty-four hour burger joint on campus. Richie was painfully sober because he was tonight's designated driver. Which was fine! He honestly didn’t mind, but as the drunks were ordering their grease, he really needed a cigarette so he snuck away outside.

Behind the building was a bench, a smoke break area for the workers. It was empty except for one guy leaning against the bench, trying to get his cigarette lit with a shitty lighter. Richie didn’t pay him much attention as he lit his own, but after watching the poor guy struggle a little longer, he takes pity on him.

“Here man,” he reaches over, offering his lighter. The lighter with faded musical notes printed on it, the one he bummed from Bill after senior prom and never gave back.

The worker takes it with a small “Thanks” and lights his cigarette.

In the amber glow of the burning end of the now-lit cigarette, Richie realizes the man is Bill under the white paper burger joint hat at the same time Bill notices the design on the lighter. Bill stares very hard at the lighter, and it’s a good thing Richie is stunned because otherwise, he’d be demanding Bill to at least look at him. In his stupor, he just stares at Bill as if he’s seen a ghost until Bill finally gathers his balls to look at him.

The air is tense and heavy between them, their cigarettes between their fingers momentarily forgotten. Both waiting on the other to make the first move. A toss-up between the two, Big Bill versus the Trashmouth.

This time it’s Richie, “You work here now? Can’t imagine that helps you get your dick wet.”

It’s a lame joke but at least it chips away at some of the tension in the air. Bill doesn’t laugh but the corners of his mouth twitch up and Richie thinks how he misses Bill’s smile with a desperation. He hates this, things were never awkward with Bill before. Bill takes a drag of his cigarette, reminding Richie to do the same. “It’s extra cuh-cash and I work the gruh-graveyard shift anyways.” Richie knows that’s all the explanation he’s getting.

“Well, you’re cute in your little paper hat.”

A brief chuckle escapes Bill’s lips before he reigns it back in, as if he’s not allowed to laugh anymore. “Beep beep Richie.”

Richie doesn’t say anything else and the two settle into silence, smoking their cigarettes. He wonders if Bill ever stopped smoking his shitty menthol cigarettes but they’ve become a staple of Bill’s smell and he thinks he’ll miss them if Bill has. Any other loser right now would be trying to talk to Bill, maybe begging him to come back. Not him, he’s a simple man and he’s just happy to share this time with Bill. The fact that Bill didn’t bolt the moment he saw him is a win in his book.

As Bill snubs out the end of his cigarette as he checks his wrist watch and sighs, “My bruh-breaks over…sorry,” and turns to head back inside through the building's back door.

“Hey, Bill!” The words slip out before he can stop them, “I have to drive everyone home but after I can always come back. Whadda ya say? Me an’ you go dicking around town?”

Bill looks over his shoulder, and he can see he’s got that furrowed eyebrow of his. It always means Bill’s thinking long and hard and it used to lead to some pretty awesome adventures. Now it just leads to heartbreak, “I can’t Rich.” Richie's shoulders slump, at least he tried. “Hey Trashmouth!” he shouts from where he’s opening the door, and when Richie looks up, Bill tosses the lighter right at his chest. Richie catches it before it hits the ground, “Tuh-take care of yourself,” Bill tells him before the door closes behind him.

“You too Big Bill.” That's the last time Richie uses that lighter.

Maybe it was because Ben had told them what happened with Professor Todd, or maybe it’s because Richie told her he saw Bill last week with his eyes glazed over with tears he refused to let fall, but she’s not surprised when she sees Bill. She was expecting to run into him sooner than later.

This time comes when she sees him in the hall between classes, making his way into the hall’s gender-neutral bathroom. The front of his pants and bottom of his shirt is soaked as if Bill spilled his morning coffee into his lap. Bill was always a clutz. She has no qualms about following him in there.

Bill doesn't notice the door open, too busy yanking paper towels out of the dispenser, dabbing at the wet stain. The unfortunate stain makes it look like he pissed himself, and there’s a blush steadily rising on the top of Bill’s cheeks, which are more sunken in than she remembers. Ben and Richie were right, Bill looks bad.

“It helps if you damp the paper towel first.”

Bill jumps and drops the wad of coffee-soaked paper towels in his hand. He looks at her in the mirror, not unlike how a prey animal eyes a looming predator. How did things get so messed up?

“Just, here,” she huffs, going to grab her own handful of paper towels, this time dampening them and wringing them out. She holds them out to him, not wanting to cross any lines by touching him. Not that long ago Bill would scoop her up and spin her around till they were both giddy with laughter.

Hesitantly Bill takes them and starts dabbing at his pants, “Thanks B-Bev.” God, it feels so nice to hear him say her name.

“If you damp the paper towel it’ll clean away the sugar so that you’re not sticky when it dries,” she gives him an explanation he didn’t ask for, “Your pants are probably going to be damp for the rest of the day though.”

He grimaces, “Gruh-great.”

Without a second thought she drops her backpack and shrugs off her pastel green sweater, thankful she decided to wear one of Richie’s band tees underneath, “Here, you can tie this around your waist.”

“I-, It’s fine Bev. Th-Thank you, but it’s not the fuh-first time I’ve spuh-spilled coffee on me.”

She smiles, “I know, and it’s not the last time you will,” she holds the sweater against his chest, the back of knuckles rap against his breast bone. Bill looks at the sweater, guilt bleeding into his blue eyes. “Bill please, I really don’t mind. You can just return it later, okay?!” She pleads. She needs Bill to let her do this for him, things can’t continue the way they have been, things can't continue being this messed up.

Bill shushes her gently and grabs the back of her hand, the one currently against his chest. His eyes are glazed and Bev can feel her tears running down her cheeks too, God, this is so fucking fucked up! “Bevie, I cuh-can’t,” he chokes out. Bill drops her and brushes past her, leaving her to watch the reflection of him in the mirror flee, her sweater still fisted in her hand.

Mike has always loved the library, so it made sense for him to work as an aid at the university's. He likes to brag and say he has the best job out of all the losers. (He’s the only one with a job.)

During his shift, every Tuesday and Thursday evening, it’s pretty much his own show. He gets to shelve books, and set aside any new history book Ben may take an interest in, or sit behind the desk and get his school work done, the occasional student needing help locating a book. Sometimes one of his Losers will drop him off a snack, or just hang around. The only time Richie comes into the library is when he’s working, the other librarian, an old lady named Patricia, kicks Richie out every time she’s working. Richie is willing to behave for Mike.

Mike’s pushing his cart of books down the aisle, shelving when he sees him. The book shelves aren’t too tall, but the top shelf can be tricky for people on the shorter side. Bill’s on his tippy toes, and he still can’t reach the book he desires. There’s a step stool a little further down the aisle and either Bill didn’t see it, or he’s being stubborn. Mike knows which is more likely.

He chuckles to himself and goes up to him, pulling the book Bill was reaching for down with ease. “Here ya go,” he passes the book to Bill.

Bill is startled, but the tension in his shoulders relaxes when he sees it’s just Mike. “Thanks, Mikey, I cuh-could’ve got it th-though” he pulls the book to his chest, subconsciously putting up a barrier between them.

“Yeah, I know Bill.” He’s smiling at him, he’s missed Bill just as much as everyone else has, but he knows Bill will come back to them when he’s ready. “So you’re deciding to read Little Women?” he gestures to the book in Bill’s hands.

“Oh, yeah. I wuh-watched the m-movie the other night when I was h-h-high.”

Mike doesn’t want to wonder how often Bill’s getting high nowadays. “Eddie and I read it together last month. Eddie fell in love with Laurie, almost made me jealous.” A brief flash of pain crosses Bill’s face and he regrets bringing up Eddie. He changes the subject, “I heard you were working at the burger joint on campus, how’s that going?”

“It’s uh, well it suh-sucks,” Bill breathes out, never having been able to lie to Mike but still thankful for the change of subject, “It puh-pays decent and so-sometimes they let me eat luh-leftovers.”

“Oh Billy,” He whispers, he doesn’t mean to let it slip and he sees the dread filling Bill’s eyes. They both know how this will play out, it’s inevitable. Just like what happened to them in the sewers, fate is a train barreling towards them at full speed and they can’t jump off the tracks. Best to get it over with, “You know if you want a different job, I can convince the boss lady to give you one here. You’d enjoy it a lot better.”

Bill regards him with sympathy, “Uh yeah Mikey, I’ll thu-think about it,” they both know he’s not going to, “I th-think I’m g-g-gonna go check this out, go see how hot Luh-Laurie is.” He steps around him, and his shoulder barely brushes Mike’s bicep. He gets the delirious idea to scoop Bill up in his arms, hold on to him and never let go, and take him back home to the Losers because then everything would be okay. They’d be complete.

He doesn't give in to temptation and watches Bill disappear out of the aisle, taking a little piece of him stuffed inside the pages of Little Women.

Stanley Uris is very aware that he is being watched right now, and he’s very aware that those eyes belong to one Bill Denbrough.

It’s Sunday evening, and all the other losers were busy studying or doing homework. (“We can’t all be perfect like you, boy scout,” Richie had grumbled at him. Stan kissed him on his forehead for his troubles.) Looking for something busy himself, he decided to pay the park a visit to birdwatch. Usually, birdwatching was reserved for Saturday mornings, with Bev accompanying him. She didn’t watch the birds, and would rather opt to curl into his side, resting her cheek on his shoulder to take a morning nap. He didn’t mind. Besides, Bill was the one who would go birdwatching with him but Bill has decided that he’s unlovable.

Bill’s hand is flitting across the page of the open sketchbook in his lap. He’s sitting on the bench across the way, probably assuming that Stan is too busy looking for a Garbler or a Finch. No, Stan saw him. He knows the feeling of being watched all too well, that fucking clown. What is Bill drawing now? Are his hands still perpetually stained in ink? He longs to know these simple things.

Every glance of those blue eyes on him feels like they’re burrowing into his skin. Stan keeps looking through his binoculars. There’s a Blue Jay up in the tree, a piece of hay in its beak. It jumps from branch to branch before flying down to the ground. It hops a few times until it lands a few feet in front of worn converse. Shit.

He probably looks like a dork staring at Bill through his binoculars, but Bill’s never been one to think such things, especially about the Losers. Stan drops his binoculars and they both stare at one another, unable to move. It’s like they are trapped in this hopeless purgatory, invisible to outsiders. He plays with the idea of just getting up and leaving, because his heart may just break again if he talks to Bill. The Losers have spent too long putting him back together.

Bill moves first, surprisingly, and it’s not away like Stan was expecting. He approaches Stan’s bench slowly, and Stan watches him approach with a look of contempt. Bill stands awkwardly in front of him, fiddling with the frayed edges of his now-closed sketchbook. What fills the pages of it? Is it still the Losers or have more monstrous memories taken their place? Or to Bill, are they one and the same now?

“Hi, Stanley.”

Stan studies the bridge of Bill’s nose, checking to see if any new freckles have joined the smattering across it. He says nothing.

Bill doesn’t react to Stan’s silence, he’s too busy doing his own studying of the silver scars that line Stan’s face. Stan and Bill were in a relationship of sorts before Bill distanced himself, looking back Stan has realized he was in a relationship of sorts with all of the Losers, but for a brief moment he and Bill had their own private thing. Each one of their kisses would be brought to a stop the moment Bill cupped his face and felt those scars. It made Stan hate them all the more. And here Bill is again, letting those stupid scars prevent them from being together.

“What do you want?” The words sound more venomous than he intends, but he can’t find it in him to care.

Bill flinches. He’s probably wondering why he even came over to talk to him, especially when he had no problem ignoring Stan and the others for this long. Stan knows that because he’s wondering the same thing.

“I ju-ju-ju-ju-ju-ju,” he stops and swallows down the fighting words, “I don’t know. Nuh-nevermind,” he gets out evenly and starts to walk away.

Stan’s on his feet in a moment, hysterical laughter spilling out his gut as he grabs Bill by the wrist, preventing him from taking another step, “That’s it? That’s all I get? An ‘I don’t know'? You ignore me for fucking months! Ignore the Losers and then I guess because you’re bored you decide to talk to me?!” He doesn’t remember when he started yelling.

Bill yanks his wrist out his grip like Stan has burned him, “It’s buh-better this way! Cuh-can’t you see th-that? Can’t any of you ruh-realize that by n-now!”

“Better Bill?! You think this is better? You left us!” his throat is tightening up but he will not cry, he is done crying over Bill Denbrough, “You left me!”

“No! You left me! You’re not my friends! You made me go into Neilbolt!”

In the distance a bird coos and there’s a cheer of someone making a basketball goal. Between Stan and Bill, it is stone silent. Stan wants to grab Bill’s hand and use it as a lifeline to steady himself like he used to, but if he reaches for him and Bill pulls away, he’s not sure what he’ll do. So he balls his hands into fists at his sides, knowing that his nails will dig into his palms till they bleed. “Just...Bill please, come home to us,” he says lowly.

Bill opens his mouth to speak but chokes on any words that try to come out. He shakes his head and walks away, and this time Stan lets him.

It’s Saturday night and Eddie would rather not be walking the sidewalk, on his way to a college party, and yet, here he is. According to the phone call he just had with Ben, bless his soul- he’s only sober one right now besides Eddie- Bev and Stan started taking shots, Richie is very stoned, and even Mike has had one too many. They aren’t completely blacked out wasted but if Eddie doesn’t get there to help Ben moderate them, they will be by the end of the night.

He almost thought he was going to get out of coming tonight, having to stay home to work on his paper for Intro Into Medicine, but he was able to wrap it up quicker than he thought. Stan was supposed to be the other designated sober person tonight, but after what he says happened with Bill last Sunday, he doesn’t blame him for wanting to drink.

Their party is at a sorority house, one of Bev’s friends Kay invited them to, but along the way, he passes the frat party that is also going on tonight. Drunk shirtless gym bros are running around the yard and a couple is making out and grinding on the front porch. Eddie can’t tell you what the name of the frat is, but he’s pretty sure he and the Losers have partied here before. This frat has a big party every Saturday night and he wrinkles his nose, remembering how the house smells like stale beer and piss.

There’s some unlucky soul crouched down and vomiting in the bushes in the corner of the yard by the street. Eddie goes to give them a wide berth as he passes them but then in the porch light he sees auburn brown hair and he knows.

Bill’s hands are on the ground as another retch travels up his spine, his knees in the dirt, his jeans to forever be grass-stained.

Eddie really wishes he had a bottle of water, or even a fucking rag as he immediately kneels down by Bill, rubbing his back. He hates sickness but it never bothers him if it’s one of the Losers. “Let it out Big Bill,” he coos.

Bill’s head snaps up to him, just now noticing Eddie’s presence. His face pinches up but before he can say anything he throws up again. He continues to rub Bill’s back, cooing, and selfishly a part of him loves this. Just being in Bill’s presence and being here for him.

He throws up everything in his stomach until he’s just dry heaving, “Eds,” he croaks. Bill pulls himself away and tries to scramble away from him. But Bill is utterly wasted and ends up tripping over his long legs, falling down on his ass. He clamors back to his feet, trying to flee down the sidewalk.

“Bill! You idiot!” He yells as he takes off after him.

Bill gets to a turn in the sidewalk and trips, taking a hard fall into the road. Panically Eddie runs to him. Bill is laying face down on the gravel, and when Eddie flips him over, he has a bloody chin and left cheek, some pretty nasty road rash. His forearms aren’t any better. Surprisingly, Bill is still conscious.

He tries to say something to Eddie, but between his stutter and the slurring of his words, it’s unintelligible. It gets worse when he starts sobbing.

Eddie cradles Bill’s head to his chest, murmuring " It’sokayit’sokayit’sokay,” over and over. At some point, Bill passes out, and while trying not to disturb him, Eddie fishes his phone out of his pocket to call Ben. They are still on the road after all.

He can hear them when he wakes up. They’re murmuring all around him. Someone is laying beside him on the bed and the rest are either sitting on it or standing in the room. Someone is running their fingers through his greasy hair and without looking he knows it’s the scrape of Bev’s nails across his scalp just as he knows it’s Richie’s long legs that lay across his. Maybe a subconscious attempt on his part to make it harder on Bill when he wakes up and chooses to flee. They don’t know he’s already awake, he had some sense to keep his eyes closed when he woke up.

A headache is ringing in his ears and his mouth tastes of stale alcohol and vomit. His face is slightly burning from when he fell into the road but it feels like someone, Eddie, has put Neosporin on it. His arms are the worst and every shuffle of the sheet against them makes it feel like they’re on fire. He deserves it, especially after putting Eddie through that last night. Eddie hates illness.

He didn’t mean to get that drunk last night. He was sad and everyone was invited to those frat parties, he just needed some alleviation. The more he drank, the less he thought about Ben’s look of disappointment, the coldness around Richie, the pain in Bev’s eyes, and the way Mike had breathed out his name. And Stan, he doesn’t know what he was thinking last Sunday. He just misses them and he had a moment of weakness, and Stan suffered for it. Again.

The mattress bends as someone else sits on his other side. More Neosporin is being delicately applied to his cheek. Whose bed is this he wonders? Or do they all share a bed? Before college started they planned on looking for an apartment together, that was the same time he had started to pull away, secretly filling out a form for a dorm.

“You just found him last night?”

“He was getting sick in the bushes and then he bolted when he realized it was me. He tripped and fell in the road, I wouldn’t leave him there.”

“Running away nowadays seems to be his forte.”

“Beep beep Richie.”

“Well, thank you for bringing home Eddie.”

“Thank Mike, Bev. He’s the one who had to sober up and carry him home.”

“Do you…do you think he’ll stay this time?”

“I hope so, Stan.”

They hush each other as Bill moves, he doesn’t want to hear any more of this. He opens his eyes and blearily takes in the dim bedroom, the light is off and the afternoon sun is bleeding through the window. Bev stops playing with his hair and moves back a little so that he can push himself up into a sitting position. The pain in his arms makes him wince.

Richie sits across the wall, his legs still stretched out over his. He pushes his legs harder down onto Bill’s, trapping him. Eddie sits to his other side, Neosporin still clutched in his hand. Stan is sitting beside Richie, snuggled up and protected under Richie’s arm. Ben sits on the other side of his legs and Mike stands by the door. He is in all senses of it, trapped.

“You look like shit dude.” Richie gets a throw pillow in the face for that from Ben of all people. “I’m just saying what we’re all thinking,” he holds his hands up in surrender.

Richie’s not lying. Aside from having a massive hangover and fucked up face, Bill hasn’t slept a full night or eaten a proper meal in months. Aside from munchies when he’s stoned or the occasional burger that was sent back because it was wrong at the burger joint, he forgets to eat. A side effect of his anxiety.

“Here, take this,” Eddie passes him some Advil from the nightstand. He swallows the pills dry before he sees the glass of water in Eddie’s other hand. He takes the water thankfully and avoids Eddie's eyes.

“Are you going to fucking say anything? Or are you still on your savior complex high horse and insisting it’s ‘better this way.” Stan’s words tear into him. No one beeps Stan but Bev’s hand returns to hair. He allows himself to lean into it.

What is he supposed to say? He wants to stand by what he's said because it is better this way, but he misses them. It’s felt like he was drowning and right now, in the same room with all of them, it’s the first time he’s been able to take a proper breath. “It’s stuh-still better-”

“Cut the shit Bill,” Bev tells him. Her hand hasn’t stopped soothing him, but she looks ready to strangle him, “We need you here.”

“I know, I know that you blame yourself for what happened to us, but please stop letting IT punish you. We’re the Losers, we’ve proven that we were stronger than IT ,” Mike adds, walking further into the room.

“We’re not whole without you Big Bill,” Richie jokingly punches the side of Bill’s thigh, like how a bro would ‘punch’ another bro on the shoulder. A stubborn smile creeps on his face at Richie’s antics.

“He’s right,” Ben continues, “They’re all right. We went through something horrible, but we went through something horrible together. We’re supposed to be together.” Ben, ever the romantic.

Eddie grasps his shoulder, “We love you, Billy, I love you.”

That's what breaks him. Eddie, his first friend, his first love. Eddie still loves him. He knows the light Eddie grew up seeing him in, always looking at him like he was the invincible one. But to Bill, he was always in awe of him, of how brave the little boy with the inhaler was. Eddie kisses him and he kisses him back, tasting the salty tang of tears. From whom, he doesn’t care. It’s so nice to be here, with them in this moment, and to feel the pure love Eddie is pouring out his soul for him into the kiss.

Eddie pulls back, teary-eyed and smiling. Bev stops playing with his hair and gently grips his chin, guiding him to face her. Her lips are just as plush against his as he remembers. Richie crawls his way onto his chest, providing a comforting weight and grounding him into the present. Mike pulls Eddie into his lap and they both curl into him, touching any part of him they can. Ben gets between his legs behind Richie, his big hands rubbing at his kneecaps. When Bev breaks their kiss with a parting kiss on his cheek, he sees Stan still sitting at the end of the bed, apprehensive.

“If you stay, you can’t- you can’t leave us again.” It kills him how Stan’s voice breaks.

He can’t promise he’ll stay. There’s still a voice in his head telling him they’d be better off without him, but for right now, the love he feels for the Losers is kicking that voice to the back seat. “I’m guh-gonna try.” He can give Stan and them the truth.

Stan thinks on it for a moment before quickly nodding his head, accepting Bill’s honesty. He quickly shambles up the bed and crawls between him and Bev, pulling Bill into an earnest kiss. Bill's hand automatically flexes, but he prevents it from reaching out and touching Stan’s scars and just lets Stan kiss him breathless.

Under the weight of his Losers, he’s protected. They won’t let the guilt float him away.

Things start to get better. Not all at once, but over time. Bill moves in with the Losers the next week, primarily staying in the guest room. It’s so nice to have Mike’s home-cooked meals again, he quickly gets back to eating on a schedule. Within the month he officially starts dating the Losers, filling in the missing piece.

He starts going birdwatching with Stan again and shows all the birds he’s doodled in his sketchbook since he left them. Bev is there too now, and it just makes sense. Sometimes Bill decides to sleep on Stan’s other shoulder. Richie has dragged him out into town, solely to fuck around or get high. He’s missed his Robin, because yes, Richie is Robin. If he says otherwise he’s wrong. He sits by Ben in Professor Todd's class now, and Ben helped him get a B+ on a poetry assignment, take that Professor Dickface! Thanks to beautiful Mike, he quits that awful job of his. Working in the library is much more his speed, and an added bonus, he doesn’t leave smelling like burnt oil.

There are still bad days. Sometimes he thinks he’s made the wrong call, that the Losers are still better off without him. But then one of them is there, reminding him of why he chose to stay.

A/N: This ended up being a bit longer than I planned, but when I got ask to write a second story for the exchange this prompt got me really excited.

I hope you enjoyed it Bambi! Thank you for the prompt!

And thanks to all who read this!

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trashmouth--breather · 3 years

Text

IT Chapter One: After the Flood (1957), Parts 1-4

oh boy, here we go...

-Though it shouldn't surprise me, I was still a bit startled by the fact that Bill was only ten when George died.

-The first chapter also introduces the first Derry flooding in 1931--exactly 27 years before the current flood in 1957, so of course there's some reference to It here. I felt as though this devastating flooding was Pennywise and his warm welcome to the town, the ode to It's torment, if you will. Even if the water damage was extensive and it cost them billions to repair, the people of Derry only trudge forward to "get through [the flooding]...and to then forget it." Just get over it. Much like how they handle their demon clown in the sewers, and the mass child killings, huh?

-The contrasting tone between Georgie's boots making a "jolly jingling as [he] ran toward his strange death" was especially pretty. Jingling made me think of bells, and of course, bells usually signify the coming of something, or even a jovial tune or occasion. Quite eerie.

-"Bill was good at reading and writing...[but that] wasn't the only reason why Bill got all A's on his report cards. Telling was only part of it. Bill was good at seeing." I don't wanna grasp at nonexistent straws here (or maybe I do) but the "seeing" bit could be a reference to Bill's mnemonic device from his speech therapy. He thrusts his fists against the posts and still insists he sees the ghosts. Earlier in the quote, George knows his big brother is a good writer, and also recognizes his ability to "see" and have a perceptive outlook in his literature. This kinda tied into why Bill becoming an author and his mnemonic device being one of the braver things to defeat Pennywise was so important. Bill didn't just want to tell the same old story, he wanted people to see it how he did, to see the "ghosts" that no one else could. Which was exactly why overcoming his stutter was him breaking off that fear, he was the only one who suffered with the stutter, maybe that's his "ghost." I'm going on a tangent this is for a later post I'll stop talking.

-This is completely irrelevant, but I have "his left arm curled around the doorjamb in a deathgrip" underlined in my copy, and the following written underneath: enjoy your arm while you still have it Georgie.

-"The smell of the monster, the apotheosis of all monsters." Just beautiful. We're seven pages in and already King is being poetic.

-The visual of George imagining something in the darkness of their basement while looking for wax was so spot on. The quote in the previous bullet point was the stage setter for It, how the children envision their fears. Georgie introducing his fear of the dark as a monster "crouched and lurking" who could "eat anything," but in George's fear-induced lack of rationale, knew It wanted "boymeat." This whole passage was just, eek. The only state of relief for him was the sound of his mother playing the piano in the living room, with King comparing it to "music from another world." Since I've read this before, and I hate to break it to anyone who hasn't read IT, George's mother abruptly stopped the piano playing once he died, so that was a punch to the fandom gut.

-On that note ^ I found this sort of grief in reverse. George fears for things in which he cannot see in the darkness (Pennywise) and the only relief was the soothing sound of the piano played by his mother. At the end of the chapter (or chapter two, technically) we find out that Mrs. Denbrough was faced with the most crippling fear of all: losing one of her sons, which was sort of like It in a way. Then that soothing act of playing the piano ceases, much like the fear that George alternately faced.

-I'll mention this analogy in further posts but It is likened to that of a snake many, many times. George's embodiment of his fear of the darkness was like a snake, with him knowing it "would simply slither part of its rotted self up." The slithering serpent of whatever he imagined was in the basement was "rotted," which also plays on another commonality in the novel of It's overall smell being decaying, rotting, and musty (as all of the Losers minus Richie have noted). Sorry, I'm all over the place but I also love this book aha-

-Once George loses his precious paper boat, and meets Pennywise in the sewer, we are (as I'll repeat this word, forgive me) introduced to It's mind games on the children It feeds on. To George, Pennywise's voice is "perfectly reasonable, and rather pleasant." This rhetoric, if you will, is reinforced further (because, excluding Eddie, Pennywise only feeds on children) when George realizes he only truly believes this clown in the sewers is real because he wasn't ten years older. Children have a different state of mind than adults, and will believe just about anything if it's keyed to the right kid.

-More mind game stuff. The balloons that Pennywise brings forth are "like gorgeous ripe fruit in one hand." This isn't just a somewhat pleasant simlie so Georgie feels secure, it's also a play on temptation. Forbidden fruit? Serpent? Am I getting too far into this?

-Something I thought was kinda interesting was that Pennywise says to George that, "...you're no stranger to me." Which I interpreted as this: earlier, It changes his appearance so his eyes resemble George's mothers (so it's something familiar, "no stranger") or he isn't a stranger to fear? Everyone's a victim of something or other?

-The end of the chapter (part 4) shifts into first person. Which I found annoying, and a bit confusing, but I'm pretty sure it's just Mike, since he is the only other narrator in the whole book to use first person. Don't quote me on that.

Thanks for taking the time to read this!! Please feel free to comment on my analysis (whether you think I'm right, or full of horse shit) and reblog if you have any ideas!

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just-jordie-things · 5 years

Text

Hot Dream - Richie Tozier

word count: 5467 warnings: swearing, it’s not smutty but there’s like.. themes of boning ya feel summary: (y/n) has a really steamy dream... about the person she’d least expect. And when Richie finds out it’s about him, he can’t help but tease her a bit ___

You hummed into Richie’s mouth as his hands traveled lower, just barely ghosting the curve of your ass, as his slender fingers slipped under the hem of your shirt, and tracing with a feather light touch to the dip of you back.

You shivered, and instantly arched your back, pressing your chest and hips further against him. You could feel him smirking against your lips, and he broke the kiss.

He was an excellent kisser, it was like he could anticipate your every move, and sensually kiss you in sync. His mouth was hot against yours, the perfect contrast to his freezing fingers on your skin.

“Are my hands cold, baby?” He asked in a teasing voice before gripping your hips.

You shivered again, but you giggled as you nodded your head.

“You want me to let go then-?”

“Don’t you fucking dare” You muttered before he could take his hands off of you.

He chuckled, and fully pressed his lips against yours.

Finally, he knew how to put that mouth to good use. ___

“Wow…” Beverly monotoned. “That’s… actually really dirty”

“I know,” (y/n) grumbled, putting her face in her hands. “It came out of fucking nowhere”

“I can’t believe you had a hot dream about Richie”

“Please don’t talk so loud,” (y/n) muttered, eyes wandering the library to make sure no one could hear them. “Bev, I need your help here, what am I supposed to do?”

Her dream last night had been… really good. Really good. But she’d never even looked at Richie that way before, so to have such a… dirty dream about him was turning her inside out. They’d been friends forever, and she’d always liked him, as a friend, or so she thought. But sometime in high school he shot up like a tree, and the features of his face became a little more defined, his voice deepened, and the other girls at school were starting to notice Richie Tozier’s sudden… hotness. (y/n) wasn’t immune to it, she could see clear as day that her friend was attractive. But she’d never really had a second thought about it until last night.

The red head giggled, shaking her head.

“I don’t know, girl. You’re the one with a trashmouth kink,” (y/n) glared at her, while she burst into laughter. “Maybe you have a thing for being called baby? I mean, how many times in that story-”

“Okay, I’m done, you’re no help at all”

(y/n) gathered her things from the desk and shoved them all into her backpack haphazardly.

“Alright, I’ll be serious, don’t leave,” Beverly said quickly. “Come on, maybe it’s simple”

“What do you mean?” (y/n) sighed dreadfully.

“Maybe you just have a crush on him” She said with a shrug. ___

It had been a few days since her dream, and since telling Beverly about it. And (y/n) was on edge.

She barely hung out with the Losers all together, not when Richie was there, anyways. She still studied with Bill, Stan, and Eddie, and she still spent most of her free time with Beverly, but if they were doing something that Richie would be at, she made up an excuse and hid at home.

There was no way she was going to risk seeing him. She knew that she would inevitably embarrass herself, and then he would tease her, and she just couldn’t have that.

Not to mention, for the past week she’d been dodging him in class, in the halls, at lunch, it was starting to become noticeable.

Richie would wave at her while she was at her locker, and she would turn the other way and race to class. He’d ask to partner up for a lab and she would lie and say she already had a partner, only to do the entire project by herself. And when he walked into the cafe for lunch, she made up an excuse about needing to study, and ate lunch alone in the halls.

And Richie was starting to catch on to her peculiar behavior.

If he couldn’t track her down to tell him what was up, he’d just have to go to the next best thing.

“Beverly,” He gave the girl a cheesy grin, and leaned up against the locker next to hers all too casually. “How ya doing sweetheart?”

“Whatever the hell it is you want, the answer’s no” The red head told him, not even looking in his direction as she grabbed her books.

“I’m not up to anything,” Richie said, putting his hands up innocently. “Promise”

“Right,” She mumbled back. “What is it then?”

“You’re (y/n’s) best friend, right?” He asked, and she nodded her head, but gave him a confused look.

“Why?”

“Because, she’s been ditching me all week and I want you to tell me why”

“Sounds like that’s you business with her, not me,” Beverly said with a smirk. “Just man up and ask her yourself”

“See, I would, but you must’ve missed the part where I said she won’t talk to me,” He said, voice thick with sarcasm. “So could you help a buddy out and just spill? Because I know she’s told you why-”

“I’m not gonna gossip about my best girl to you,” Beverly told him, shutting her locker and narrowing her eyes at the boy. “Why don’t you just figure it out and talk to her,” A knowing smirk tugged on her lips. “I’m sure that’ll go over well”

Richie’s brows furrowed as she licked her lips and walked away.

What the fuck does that mean?

Maybe he’d have to try the next best thing. ___

“O-oh, yeah, she’s r-really ignoring you” Bill said with a chuckle.

He’d decided that if he couldn’t get the information out of who (y/n) spills to, he’d get it out of who Beverly spills to. And sure enough, Bill knew what was up.

“I know that, what I wanna know is why the fuck she is!” Richie shouted, making heads turn as the other students in study hall glared at him for his loud mouth.

“More like w-what you d-didn’t do” Bill snickered, only furthering Richie’s confusion.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It m-means,” Bill leaned closer to speak quietly to his friend. “(y/n) h-had a dream a-about you”

“So?” RIchie asked, still at full volume. “That’s not that fuckin weird, and it’s definitely not an excuse to ignore me-”

“A hot dream” Bill clarified, voice void of his usual stutter.

For once, Richie was speechless, and Bill was laughing as he went back to doing his homework.

Well, that was certainly an interesting piece of news. ___

(y/n) had been minding her own business in the school’s library, copying the chem notes that she was lucky enough to get from Ben since she’d started skipping the class entirely. It was just too risky. It felt like Richie was always looking her way trying to get her attention, and it was distracting.

She didn’t like skipping classes, it made her uncomfortable, and she really didn’t want to get detention, but maybe detention was the lesser of two evils here.

Bill Denbrough wandered up to her, and took a seat across from her.

“Hey,” He greeted, with his always-so-pleasant smile. She smiled back, silent as she went back to her notebook. “S-so some of us are g-gonna go to the arcade. F-for food and games a-and stuff”

“Sounds fun,” She hummed, setting down her pen. “Who’s going?”

He knew she was going to ask that.

“M-me, Bev, and M-Mike,” He said. “M-maybe Eddie t-too. He’s n-not sure yet. B-but Ben had a l-lot of homework, St-Stan’s grounded and Richie said h-he wasn’t up f-for it”

“Okay,” (y/n) shrugged. “When should I head over?”

“Seven-ish, w-we’re waiting until Mike’s done with his s-schoolwork”

(y/n) gave a half smile, feeling bad that Mike was always doing schoolwork. Being homeschooled and having to work on his grandfather’s farm was hard on him. But at least he could hang out with them tonight.

“Sounds good, see you then” ___

Bill Denbrough was a no-good-mother-fucking-liar and (y/n) had never wanted to hurt the sweet boy before but dear god she wanted to hit him with a car right now.

When she walked into the arcade, there, sat at the table, were her friends. Bill, Beverly, and Mike, as promised.

And then there was Richie fucking Tozier.

He looked up at her as she approached the table, a smirk on his face. As though even he knew he wasn’t supposed to be here.

“Finally! You made it!” Beverly said excitedly, and gestured for her to sit.

But both sides of the booth were full. Bill and Bev on one side, and Richie and Mike on the other.

“I’ll grab a chair-”

“Nonsense, you can sit with me” Richie spoke, and the next thing she knew he was tugging her to sit next to him.

She was pressed up against him completely, and his arm was wrapped around behind her to keep her from falling off the seat. Before she could object and go find a chair to pull up to the table, Mike went back to talking about something that happened on the farm.

(y/n) tried to listen, she did, but it was hard when Richie consumed every single one of her senses. From the way he held her tightly against his side, to the smirk on his lips every time he looked down at her, and fuck he smelled good.

She kept herself occupied by stealing cheese fries off the large plate on the table, and doing her best to listen to what Mike was saying.

She made it about ten minutes before Richie was pestering her again. His fingers were tapping on her shoulder. It was just a little beat at first, and then it was a constant tap, and now he was rubbing circles. She thought it was just him being his usual nonstop-moving self.

It was driving her crazy, and she shifted in her seat, trying to put a little distance between their bodies. Not that it was possible without falling out of the booth.

Richie’s arm dropped to wrap around her waist, his hand firmly holding onto her. He lowered his head so that when he murmured only she could hear.

“Something wrong, baby?”

He said it so casually, in a voice so low that a shiver went down her spine, and he smirked when he noticed.

(y/n’s) eyes shot up to look at him, taken aback from the pet name. Richie never called her that. It was always toots, or hotstuff, or sugar. The only time she’d ever heard him call her baby was in….

Her eyes widened.

“N-no” She stammered back, and his smirk only widened.

“You sure? You look kind of pale”

She swallowed and nodded. Her voice was untrustworthy.

In fact, she didn’t talk much the rest of the time they were eating. And everyone noticed.

Except Mike, who wasn’t in on the gossip to know what was going on. As far as he knew, Richie was just being his weird teasing self as usual. Nothing to even question.

He didn’t notice Beverly’s knowing grin, and Bill’s eyes constantly wandering between the cuddled up pair. Hell, Mike was sat right next to Richie, and still couldn’t see the drastic change in his and (y/n’s) demeanor.

It made for an amusing evening for Richie Beverly and Bill. (y/n)... not exactly.

When Bill suggested they play games, she practically leapt out of the seat, shoving Richie’s hand off of her and making her way to the arcade as quickly as possible.

“You’re stupid” Beverly said to Richie discreetly with a shake of her head.

“Y-yeah, what are y-you trying to d-do, seduce h-her?” Bill asked.

Richie just rolled his eyes, shaking his head and standing to follow after (y/n).

“Wait, what?” Mike asked, looking at the remaining two friends. “Does Richie have a crush on (y/n)?”

Bill and Beverly burst into giggles, only furthering Mike’s confusion.

“Does everyone know something I don’t?”

“Yep,” Beverly said, popping her lips. “Richie’s just messing with her cause she had a sexy dream about him”

Mike’s eyes nearly popped out of his head, and his jaw dropped open. He looked more shocked than Richie had when he’d found out.

“Are you serious?”

The others just laughed at him, and made their way off to play games, despite Mike’s begging for more answers.

Richie was talking to (y/n), as expected. She was at the change machine, trying to get her dollar smooth enough that it would read it, while he leaned over her and tried to convince her to play Street Fighter with him.

“I have a high score to beat” She muttered back, intently focused on rubbing the dollar over the side of the machine to smooth out it’s wrinkles.

“Oh really?” He chuckled, and she nodded her head. “I don’t believe you”

She glanced over at him, only intending to do so for a second, but his eyes were so concentrated on her that it was hard to look away once they met. His brows were furrowed a bit, as if he were studying her.

“Fine” She mumbled, licking her lips which suddenly felt very dry, and finally slid her dollar into the machine.

Richie grinned, clapping his hands once, very loudly, enough that she jumped a bit.

“Excellent” He said, and leaned in to kiss her cheek, and squeeze her hip.

She practically whirled around when he pulled away, watching him confusedly.

“I’ll go save the machine, baby” He said, and headed off without another word.

She grabbed her change from the machine, and then stormed over to where Beverly and Mike were playing skee-ball.

“You told!” She hissed at the red head.

“What?”

“You told-” Her eyes wandered to Mike, but then shook her head as if to say fuck it, and continued on anyways. “You told Richie that I had a dream about him!” Her hushed scream was embarrassed, but the blush on her face already told her that.

Mike began to laugh, while Beverly shook her head.

“No I didn’t. I mean… I didn’t tell Richie…”

“What?” (y/n) squeaked. “Who did you tell then?”

Beverly winced, and glanced over to Bill where he was playing Pac-Man.

“Bill?” (y/n) groaned. “That’s just as fucking bad! He’s Richie’s best friend-”

“So?”

“So,” (y/n) stressed the word. “He probably told Richie”

“So?” Bev repeated. “Is that so bad?”

(y/n) blinked, and that was enough of an answer.

“Come on. He’s been flirting with you all year, and he’s been all over you tonight. You’re loving it”

“I’m not”

“Well I didn’t exactly see you pushing him away,” Beverly said with a smirk. “(y/n/n), I know you, and I love you. If you didn’t want his hands on you then you would’ve punched him in the face-”

“Okay okayokayokay” (y/n) shut her eyes and shook her head before Beverly could say anything else that would embarrass her.

“Just go bang one out” Mike said simply.

(y/n) sputtered, and she swore she could’ve died right there. Right on the skee-ball ramp. It was a pitiful way to go, sure, but at least she’d get out of this conversation.

Beverly was giggling, but only because it was strange to hear Mike say something so… vulgar.

“Go on. We’ll leave you alone,” She told her friend, pushing her slightly towards the Street Fighter machine. “And have fun” She murmured in a low voice, giving (y/n) a wink before going back to skee-ball.

As (y/n) made her way back to Richie, she mulled over her options.

Beverly… wasn’t wrong. She did like the attention, the touching, the pet name… she got a little lost in thought as she recalled the events of her dream and what happened at the table.

Richie did have a nice looking face… and… body…

“What took you so fucking long?”

Her brows drew together as she stared at the boy for a moment.

She wondered if he was as good of a kisser as she’d dreamed him up to be. And she certainly would like to find out. But she wasn’t 100% sure that he even knew about it. He might’ve just been messing with her just for the sake of it.

“I was talking to Bev,” Her answer was delayed, and she shrugged a shoulder. “You didn’t have to wait up for me”

“Had to make sure some punk kid wouldn’t hog the game,” Richie said, putting his quarter in. “That one over there was eyeing it for a while”

(y/n) slid her quarter into the slot before glancing over to where he gestured.

“Richie,” She giggled, “That kid looks like he’s six years old-”

“Yeah, a six year old that’s gonna try and beat my score” He said, looking over at her seriously, except for the smile on his face.

He was very close, the game wasn’t that big so they were already standing side by side to play together.

She quickly and bashfully turned her head away, picking her character on the screen.

“Are you gonna keep staring at me or are you going to choose your fighter?” She asked, and it took every ounce of confidence in her to glance up at him, raising a brow.

He smirked at her, before turning his attention to the game, and choosing his fighter.

The first round was over fast, because (y/n) had started it early and beat him quicker than he’d ever been beaten before. He called her a cheater, but she told him she was just practicing her trade.

“Your trade?” Richie repeated. “This is my game”

“Maybe not anymore” She said playfully with a shrug, and landed a few punches on his character.

Richie just laughed, and beat her in seconds. He let out a victorious laugh, and she narrowed her eyes at him. He returned the look, and then continued on to round three.

“Want to put a little wager on this one?” He asked, in a tone that made goosebumps crawl over her skin. “Since we’re tied”

“What kind of wager?” She asked, and then cursed when her fighter got knocked down.

“Like… if you win, I’ll do your chem homework for a week” He suggested.

“And if you win?” She asked.

“Then you have to fess up to why you’ve been dodging me all week”

(y/n) thought for a moment, losing her focus on the game as she weighed her options.

“Do my homework for two weeks” She bargained.

“Fine,” Richie shrugged. “You’ve got a deal, baby”

And there was that word again. And made her stomach drop and her heart beat a little harder in her chest.

She had to win this round. There was no way she could look Richie in the eyes and lie to him without him catching her, and there was definitely no way she could tell him about-

Oh no.

The machine made a little depressing tune as her character was knocked out, and Richie beat her.

Oh no. No no no no no.

“I win” He said, like she didn’t already know, and give her a big grin.

She stared at the screen a minute longer, in denial that she’d really lost that fast. And when it faded to black, and then to the Start Game page, she knew her fate was sealed. When she looked up at Richie, he was still grinning, and tugged on her arm so she’d walk with him.

“Come on, I’ll beat you at skee-ball too”

She was grateful that he at least didn’t cash in on what she owed him right away. But maybe if he already knew the reason, then he was smart enough not to ask her about it while they were still in public.

She tried to calm her nerves, even her breathing and ignore the rapid beating of her heart while they played their next game. But she was so goddamn anxious that she was failing to get any of the balls into the rings, and they all slid up the ramp and into the pit.

“(y/n), I don’t mean to be cruel,” Richie spoke when he finished his game next to her, because he’d actually played it. “But you really suck at this”

She laughed shyly, shaking her head and picking up her fourth skee-ball. He could see her hands were shaking as she rolled it up the ramp and it plopped right into the pit again.

“Alright, this is pitiful, you’re breaking my heart” Richie chuckled, and walked over to help her out.

He came to stand right behind her, close enough that she could feel his chest against her back.

“Alright, first of all, take a deep breath,” He said into her ear. His hands smoothed down her arms slowly, calming her a little bit. “Why are you so tense, baby?” His voice dropped to a whisper.

She almost pushed him away, starting to feel too hot. But she liked his closeness too much to shove him off, so she didn’t say anything.

“It’s not that hard,” Richie said, grabbing her next ball, and placing it in her hand. “You’re just not swinging hard enough, and your release is too early”

He could see her swallow while he whispered the instructions into her ear.

“Got it?” He hummed, and she nodded.

One of his hands slid around her waist, the other taking her wrist and swinging with her so it would roll up the ramp, and into the ring. 300 points wasn’t all that much considering the high score was 10,000, but it was her first win, so she cheered quietly anyways.

Richie found it adorable, and then they went through the motions again, until she was out of balls, and actually had some points.

She turned around in his arms, a proud smile on her face that softened when she looked up at him.

As soon as her eyes met his, she lost any sense of what she was going to say, and she was just standing there, staring at him, silently.

(minus her heart, which she was so certain was going to burst out of her chest any minute now)

Her eyes wandered down to his lips, and she subconsciously set her hands on his arms for support. He was still loosely holding her waist, and just watching her with amusement while she debated kissing him right now.

Richie could almost see the gears in her head turning as she thought about it.

And suddenly, she cleared her throat, and side stepped out of his hold.

“I’m gonna- um- go buy a uh… a soda. Yeah, a soda” She coughed and walked off before he could have the chance to say anything.

She made a bee-line for the counter, grabbing Beverly by the arm on her way, and making her walk with her.

“Woah, slow down,” Beverly said, stalling in her steps so they could walk at a normal pace. “Are you freaking out again?”

“Yes, I am clearly freaking out again!” (y/n) seethed. “Help me Bev, I need your help” She added in a quieter whiny voice.

“I don’t understand why this is so hard for you,” Beverly said, rubbing her friend’s back as they walked up to the concessions counter. “You like him, he’s clearly showing an interest in you, it’s not rocket science”

“But I- I don’t know if I like him like that” (y/n) whispered.

“You want to bone him?” Beverly asked, with no care for the volume of her voice.p

(y/n) shrugged as she thought about it, but ultimately nodded her head.

“Yeah I- I guess-”

“No, sweetheart, you already know,” Beverly said with a small giggle. “And… you enjoy his company?”

“Yeah, I always have”

“And you think he’s nice? And funny?”

“Of course-”

“You like him” Beverly told her nonchalantly.

“But I-”

“If you think he’s genuinely funny, then honey, you’re already in deep for him,” Beverly said genuinely. “Besides. You check him out a lot. I’ve seen it”

“I do not…” (y/n) tried to deny, but as she thought about it… “Oh my god I do…”

The red head laughed again while (y/n) paid for her drink in a trance.

“You do,” She confirmed. “So stop stalling and just go get it fucking over with!” Beverly said, and took off to play games with Mike and Bill.

(y/n) sighed, being left alone at the counter.

Her eyes caught Richie’s, while he was talking to Bill. He smirked at her for a minute before saying something to Bill, and walking up to her.

“Better?” He asked, shoving his hands into his pockets as he eyed the drink in her hands. “You took off real fast there”

“I- was really thirsty” She answered lamely. But it amused Richie, because he let out a laugh and his smirk was back on his face.

“Right,” He hummed. “So you weren’t just avoiding me again?”

She could feel her face and neck go hot as she shook her head.

“Well good,” His smirk turned into a smile. “I don’t like when you do that”

Her brow furrowed, and her head tilted to the side.

“Richie, I didn’t mean to…” She trailed off, unsure of what to say that wouldn’t make her embarrassment flare up. “I was only…”

“What?” He mused, patiently but eagerly waiting for her answer.

Her mouth opened, but his eyes were staring so intensely into hers that she got nervous again and shook her head.

“Nothing,” She sighed helplessly. “It’s nothing”

Richie hummed, and then he smacked his lips and looked around.

“I need a smoke,” He told her. “When you’re ready, you know where I’ll be”

He raised his brows for a moment, and then left the arcade.

(y/n) sighed, watching him leave.

She couldn’t believe that this was so hard for her. But the embarrassment kept weight down on her shoulders and confusing her. She didn’t know what she wanted to do.

What she did know, was that she really wanted Richie.

So she gathered what little courage she had, and followed him outside.

The smoking area was really just an alley between the arcade and the bar, with a large trash can topped with an ashtray. At least her and Richie were the only ones out there, so she didn’t have to make a fool of herself in front of an audience.

Richie had just pulled out his cigarette, and almost lit it when she came out the door. He was surprised she’d come so soon, or at all really. He thought maybe she’d sneak out and go home, and avoid him the rest of their lives, but here she was.

“I was embarrassed,” She announced, and took a deep breath right away. “That’s why I was avoiding you, I’m sorry”

Richie smirked, and stuck his cigarette back into the box.

“Apology accepted,” He told her, and walked up to her, until her back hit the brick wall of the bar next door.

Her breath caught in her throat as he leaned ever so closer, towering over her with that dumb smirk still on his lips. Her eyes flickered between his quickly.

“Wh-what’re you doing?” She stammered.

“Just waiting for you to tell me the rest, baby,” Richie said expectantly. “You know, the good parts”

“The good parts?” She repeated, breathless from her shallow breathing.

“Yeah,” He said. “The part about you having a dream about me, you know, the one that sounded really hot?”

“I- I don’t-”

“Bill already told me,” Richie said before she could make an excuse to get out of it. “So which is it, was I so good that you were too nervous to look at me, or were you just scared that it wouldn’t live up to your expectations?”

“Richie,” (y/n) breathed, and her eyes fell shut so that she didn’t have to look at his taunting face anymore. “I-”

“Listen,” He murmured, and leaned in closer until his lips brushed the shell of her ear. “I promise I won’t disappoint, baby,”

She let out a sigh, despite trying to hold it back.

“You’ve got a bit of a kink for that don’t you?” He teased, pulling back just enough to look at her. She was biting down on her lip, and he could see her chest moving with every deep breath she took. “That’s kinda hot”

One of his hands held tightly onto her waist, while the other trailed up her arm, over her shoulder, and then slid behind her neck.

“Richie-” She mumbled, her nerves choking her up again.

“Tell me to stop,” He said softly, in the sweetest tone of voice she’d heard from him all night. “And I will”

She swallowed thickly, and then gently shook her head.

“Please don’t” She whispered back, a small smile playing on her lips.

And that was all he needed to hear before crashing his lips down against hers so hard that she was shoved back into the wall.

(y/n) wasted no time in throwing her arms around his neck to pull him closer, hungrily kissing him back, like it was the end of the world and this was her only chance. Her hands cupped his face, and then dove into his hair, and then held tightly to his shoulders- she couldn’t stop touching him.

This was hardly her first time making out with someone- but it was certainly the first time where she felt like she just couldn’t get enough.

Without warning, his hands reached down to wrap under her thighs, and without breaking their lips he managed to lift her right up and shove her right into the wall again. She gasped at the impact, and Richie only took it as an invitation to shove his tongue haphazardly into her mouth.

They slowed down at their tongues tangled and he leisurely explored her mouth, and then did it again, as though mapping it to memory.

When his lips trailed along her jaw, leaving short wet kisses over every inch of skin he passed, (y/n’s) eyes fluttered open, looking up at the stars while he was busy marking her neck. Sucking and nipping at her sensitive skin and eliciting delightful little whimpers.

He smirked against her neck, and pulled away to look at her.

She was a mess, a hot mess if he did say so himself. Her hair in tangles and pushed all over the place, her lips swollen and eyes half lidded with lust as she looked back at him.

He set her down, but still held tightly to her hips so her legs wouldn’t buckle underneath her. She staggered only for a moment before he caught her balance.

“Why’d you stop?” She mumbled, already pulling his lips towards hers.

He had to chuckle at her desperation, but he only gave her a short kiss.

“I had to look at you,” He told her when he pulled back much too soon for her liking. “Baby” He added, almost as an afterthought.

“You’re going to have to stop calling me that in front of our friends” She told him seriously, but her volume was low, almost a whisper.

“Why’s that?” Richie asked playfully, pushing her strands of hair out of her face and behind her ear.

“Because I’m gonna want to kiss your face everytime you do it”

He smirked at her, and she reached up to kiss him quickly.

“Why not, then?” He mused, and she pulled back, brow furrowing.

“Because…” She said slowly. “I don’t think our friends would like that we’re… um…” She licked her lips as she tried to find the right words.

“You don’t think our friends would like you to be my girlfriend?”

“G-girlfriend?” (y/n) choked on the word, and Richie laughed softly.

She hadn’t thought that this was heading that way at all.

“Y-you want me to be your girlfriend?” She asked quietly. “You don’t just wanna… like… mess around?”

“I don’t see why we can’t do both, that sounds pretty fucking good to me,” Richie said with a lazy sort of grin. “What do you think?”

She smiled back at him, nodding excitedly as her hands reached up to lay across his cheekbones.

“Yeah?” He asked, and she kept nodding.

“Yeah, yeah that sounds good,” She hummed. “Really good” She added before pulling him in and kissing him patiently.

“So,” Richie sighed, “What else happened in this dream of yours?”

It was finally her turn to smirk at him.

___

xoxo ~ jordie

#it 2017 #it 2019 #richie tozier #richie tozier x reader #richie tozier imagine #richie tozier scenario #richie tozier fanfiction #finn wolfhard #finn wolfhard x reader #bill hader #bill hader x reader

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witchoflegends · 1 year

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@tczier liked for a Bill starter

"So what's next for you? Continue being the wildly successful comedian? Or were you looking to slow down for a little bit? Everything considered."

#tczier #stuttering ghost: bill denbrough #/it's up to you if you want #/to write this as canon #/or have eddie still alive #/cause I love to ignore that al the time

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uppersidedreams · 3 years

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[ song kang, cis man, twenty-two ] Let’s give a warm welcome to one of Sparkwood’s finest, WILLIAM “BILL” DENBROUGH !! Before coming here, he once lived on the pages of IT. Though now they currently spend most of their time as a SCREENWRITER. If you ask the townsfolk about what they are like, you will hear that they are STRONG but also SKITTISH. If they had a theme song it would be HAUNTING - HALSEY.

you can find the rest of my muses here !

TRIGGER WARNINGS: mentions of kidnapping, possible death, and depression.

with no recollection of his birth parents, bill denbrough was adopted by a loving couple at the age of two. he was given everything that a child could ever dream for, spending his days playing outdoors and even reading from an early age. it seemed that bill was extremely gifted and perceptive, even as a child, he was leaps and bounds ahead of most other children his age academically. when he was six years old, his parents informed him that he was going to get his one greatest wish that he had as an only child: a baby brother. georgie was his parents’ miracle child, they were not supposed to be able to have children and yet somehow he was still brought into his world. from the moment georgie was born, bill took on the role of the protective older brother and doted on the other as much as possible. while georgie annoyed him occasionally, he would do absolutely anything for his younger brother.

everything was fairly normal in bill’s life until that fateful fall day. bill was supposed to go out and play with his younger brother but was suffering from bronchitis that prevented him from doing so, completely bed-bound. so, he promised georgie that he would go out to play with him some other time. though that was a promise that he was never able to keep considering the fact georgie never came home that night. a manhunt for the boy was conducted but there was no sign of him. bill’s parents were completely broken and bill was left with an insurmountable wealth of survivor’s guilt. he blamed himself for not being there to look out for his brother.

the only thing that was able to get him through this dark time was his best friends, they called themselves the losers club. while none of them were individually accepted in school, they always loved and cared for one another. years passed and georgie never turned off, the family was forced to accept the fact that he might not be alive anymore. but bill was convinced that georgie was still out there, that someone had him. both of his parents laughed off his notion, but bill was determined to prove that he was right — to find georgie somehow. having hallucinations of his younger brother, bill attempted to leave behind the ghosts of his past when college rolled around. he abandoned not only those hurtful memories but his friends, attending college in california where he majored in screenwriting.

he used writing and reading as forms of escapism, writing screenplays that allowed him to push the darker thoughts that ran through his mind out of it. after graduation, he decided to return home and work remotely. coming back to sparkwood is a bittersweet thing for bill, he still feels as if he’s haunted.

HEADCANONS.

bill has an overactive imagination and sometimes that still gets to him today, causing him to have paranoia fueled beliefs.

he has had a speech impediment since he was a child and the stutter went away over the years, but it comes back in waves every now and then — especially when he’s stressed or there are high emotions involved.

he has a fear of clowns, don’t ask him to explain this phobia. he loves horror movies but refuses to watch any that involve clowns.

he is bisexual and somewhat confused about his sexuality.

he never learned how to drive and prefers to ride his bike named silver around town.

struggles with major depression but attends therapy sessions to work on his inner turmoil that he still battles with.

only came back to town after receiving a call from an old friend (mike), deciding to spend as much time as he could with his parents and try and get over the negative feelings he still has about the town of sparkwood.

he feels as if his parents stopped caring about him after georgie disappeared.

his closet is just 90% flannels, a true fashion disaster.

#spark. intro #tw: kidnapping #tw: depression

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sunsummoneds · 3 years

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[ song kang, cisgender male, twenty-two ] Let’s give a warm welcome to one of Sparkwood’s finest, WILLIAM “BILL” DENBROUGH !! Before coming here, he once lived on the pages of IT. Though now they currently spend most of their time as a SCREENWRITER. If you ask the townsfolk about what they are like, you will hear that they are STRONG but also SKITTISH. If they had a theme song it would be HAUNTING - HALSEY. Let’s see how their story unravels this time.

you can find the rest of my muses here !

TRIGGER WARNINGS: mentions of kidnapping, possible death, and depression.

HEADCANONS.

bill has an overactive imagination and sometimes that still gets to him today, causing him to have paranoia fueled beliefs.

he has a fear of clowns, don’t ask him to explain this phobia. he loves horror movies but refuses to watch any that involve clowns.

he is bisexual and somewhat confused about his sexuality.

he never learned how to drive and prefers to ride his bike named silver around town.

struggles with major depression but attends therapy sessions to work on his inner turmoil that he still battles with.

he feels as if his parents stopped caring about him after georgie disappeared.

his closet is just 90% flannels, a true fashion disaster.

#spark. intro #tw: kidnapping #tw: depression

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marshlon · 4 years

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1. We drink the poison our minds pour for us and wonder why we feel so sick. – Atticus

INT. One William Denbrough, eroding into the earth every time Richie leans close enough for Bill to feel the ghost of his breath on his skin, and touches him softly, a thumb brushing his left brow and allowing Bill’s mind to entertain thoughts and ideas he would otherwise deem impossible.

“It’s just so insane,” Richie says, face close to yours while his other hand holds your hair up from your forehead, and examines the silver thread of a scare over your temple. His glasses are pushed down the bridge of his nose so that you can see the dark chocolate of his eyes clearly, unobscured by the lenses.

You count one, two, three freckles in the corner of his right eye and whisper, “Yeah,” the very effort taking all the air from your lungs. Richie does not blink.

“Seven hours,” he continues, “You didn’t wake up for seven hours?”

You nod. Your cheek brushes the skin of Richie’s palm, and you fight not to lean into the warmth. “D-dad s-s-says they almost lost me a few tuh-times during, but mom says he’s making that up. I just think sh-she doesn’t like to think about it.”

“And they think that’s what caused the stutter?” Richie says, “You getting hit by that car?”

You shrug. The word No lingers at the forefront of your mind and tickles the back of your tongue, but instead you bite it away and say, “Yes. I got h-hit and thrown against a wall. Knocked out. It de-did something to my head.”

Richie leans away. Cool air kisses your cheeks in his absence.

“Why haven’t you ever told me this before?”

You shrug, a stab of shame poking you in the stomach. “I don’t know. It’s weird, I guh-guess.”

Richie frowns. “It’s not weird,” he says.

“And I didn’t w-want you to look at me different.”

“It’s not weird, Bill.”

“It is weird, R-Richie. I died for a few minutes. It’s weird. I’m weird.”

“Not to me.”

You close your eyes, whispering, “Seriously …”

You can still hear the smile in Richie’s voice when he says, “I think it’s amazing, actually. You had a near death experience. You’re like a fuckin’ superhero, Denbrough.”

You open your eyes. Richie is close to you. He had been close before but now he’s closer still, the shadows from the flickering embers kissing the curve of his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, and the cleft of his chin. It’s close to ten and Richie’s parents will be expecting him home soon. It’s close to ten and your parents won’t be home for the weekend.

It’s close to ten and your best friend is looking at you in a way that best friends should not.

INT. A boy blue, first name Bill.

Richie’s eyes are velvet under the orange haze of the wood burning in the fireplace. His lips have fallen open a sliver, as if awed, and he is whispering, “Hey, Billy,” and you think this may be what does it, the last straw. “Billy, Billy, Bill …”

He is still whispering your name against his lips when you kiss him.

[part one]

#bichie #it 2017 #it 2019 #it fic #it ficlet #*it fic #my stuff #*bichie #*it #itcentral #bill denbrough #richie tozier #bill x richie #i dont actually know how to tag #for the most part these will be out of order #me reading how bill was hit by a car at 3yrs old which put him in a coma for 7 hrs;#'oh thats one for the bichie files'#bbb fic

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katecarteir · 5 years

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you can’t believe what’s happening now

pairing: eddie kaspbrak/richie tozier [reddie] word count: 2,261 chapter 1 of 3 beta’d by: @appojoos & @photoboothreddie summary: And yet, Eddie found his feet taking to the Tozier house, standing in the backyard, looking up at Richie Tozier’s bedroom window. It was lit up, looking soft and overly inviting, but Eddie didn’t sneak out of his house to just go into somebody else’s. Eddie picked up a small rock from the ground and tossed it upwards. ⤹ what was supposed to be a small birthday gift for my dearest @eddiekaspprak back literally in november but has ended up not being done even close to on time and i’m now splitting up into chapters. hi i love you.

read on ao3.

perma taglist: @jwilliambyers, @eddiekaspprak, @photoboothreddie, @appojoos, @s-s-georgie, @chaotickaspbrak, @eddiefuckinkaspbrak, @edstozler, @emgays, @anellope, @thorn-harvester-ven, @wheezyeds, @vipertooth, @tozierking, @billdenbrough, @itfandomprompts, @bevchie, @loserslibrary (let me know if you want added!)

It’s not that Eddie Kaspbrak hated his mother. It felt nearly impossible to hate somebody that loved you so much. Too much, Eddie knew. His mother’s love was all-consuming, smothering and didn’t come free. The weight of it threatened to crush him at any given time, and he had to pay for it. He paid for it in freedom, and peace. He paid for it with a crushing weight in his gut and a tightness in his chest that wasn’t anything close to asthmatic. Eddie Kaspbrak was seventeen years old and he was one bad day away from erupting stomach ulcers.

Eddie didn’t slam his bedroom door, no matter how much he wanted to. He knew that it would only bring his mother to the bottom of the stairs to scream up at him. She wouldn’t make the trip all the way up just for the fight, but Eddie wasn’t in the mood to listen to her yelling anymore. He couldn’t really handle being in the same house as her right now.

Frowning, Eddie turned towards his bedroom window. He clenched his fists at his sides and bit down on his bottom lip. Eddie wondered for a moment if he was brave. He knew he’d been brave once before. He’d done brave things, things braver than most people his age could ever imagine doing. He’d seen things, been through things. Eddie Kaspbrak knew he was strong. He just forgot sometimes.

Since the Losers Club had started splitting up, moving across the country and overall falling apart, Eddie though he wasn’t as brave as he used to be. He rarely ever felt like the boy who’d stood up to his mother in the hospital, or kicked at a demon clown in the sewers while covered in sludge. He wondered if he had what it took to be that boy again, or if he was gone from his conscious forever.

Eddie grabbed the sweater that was hanging on the back of his desk chair, laid out for school the next morning, and figured that the only way to find that boy was to try and force him back out. Eddie pushed his window up and smiled as the chilly fall air hit his face. His mom always went full lock down this time of year. Allergies this, cold weather that. As a result, Eddie always spent the entirety of October stuck inside of the house when he wasn’t at school. Eddie craved fall with a sort of crazy intensity that he’d never experienced with anything before.

Eddie pulled his running shoes out from under his bed and quickly climbed out of the window frame. He froze for a moment, looking down at the two story fall that was threatening him, and squeezed his eyes shut. He took a short, shaking breath and reached for the tree branch. He leapt, smacking against the trunk as he wrapped his arms tightly around it and pressed his face against the rough wood. Eddie let out a loud, shaky breath and smiled against his own control. He let out a breathy laugh and looked up towards the starry sky. Mike Hanlon always told him that the stars weren’t as visible in other places— cities and high population states—with all the lights and cars. Eddie had always thought that the stars were pretty, but he swore on this night, they were an all new level of beautiful.

Eddie skimmed his way down the tree, clutching hard to each branch and reminding himself not to be afraid with every step down. He reached the ground on shaking legs, and pressed his hands over his mouth as he steadied himself. He laughed into his hands, attempting to stifle it as he glanced towards his living room window. He could see the shifting lights of the TV screen and he backed away slowly as though she’d be able to hear his steps from inside when he knew perfectly well that she couldn’t even hear the phone ringing in the same room as her when she was in front of the television set.

Eddie ran into his first problem when he got to the curb. He didn’t have any sort of plan, or any idea of where he was going. He pondered for a moment, but he knew he couldn’t just turn around and go back into his room when he’d already gotten so far. The momentary panic over where to go passed quickly. There was only one true answer either way.

Moving into their senior year of high school, The Losers Club was mostly dismantled. Beverly had left the same summer of IT, and Bill’s family had left not long into the school year. They’d moved clear across the ocean to get away from the haunting images of Georgie at every corner in town, and Eddie couldn’t blame them. He knew they all had ghosts in this town, but the Denbrough’s were much closer to the surface at any given point in time. Ben’s family had left during sophomore year, very suddenly. It had felt like one day he was there, and the next he simply… wasn’t anymore. Mike had been much further ahead in the curriculum when he’d switched into public school for high school, ending up a year ahead of the other Losers, and had already graduated. He’d started at the University of Bangor a month earlier, and though he came home every weekend, Eddie didn’t see him much anymore. And Stan- well, Eddie strongly supposed that Richie was the only person who still saw Stanley Uris outside of school, and mostly because Richie refused to let Stan push him away like he’d done with everybody else after IT. Eddie respected Richie’s friendship and loyalty to Stan, even when it made his stomach twinge with something icky and annoying when he thought about it for more than a short moment.

Eddie still saw Richie around, they ate lunch together most days and sat together in their classes, but in the last few months, something in their friendship had shifted. Eddie knew he was partly—okay mostly—responsible for the rift between them but he often told himself that it wasn’t as though Richie fought him on it either. Eddie wasn’t sure he wanted him to, because as much as he missed Richie something fierce, Eddie had some misgivings he had to work through on his own.

And yet, Eddie found his feet taking him to the Tozier house, standing in the backyard, looking up at Richie Tozier’s bedroom window. It was lit up, looking soft and overly inviting, but Eddie didn’t sneak out of his house to just go into somebody else’s. Eddie picked up a small rock from the ground and tossed it upwards.

He paused for another moment, and was reaching for a second rock, when the window above opened slowly and a messy head of hair popped out. Eddie’s heart stuttered as he looked up, and he couldn’t hold back his grin.

“Eds?” Richie called out, and Eddie could barely see how his face crinkled up. Eddie waved in what he knew was a dorky fashion, but it didn’t matter much when it made Richie grin. “Isn’t it past your curfew?”

Eddie shrugged one shoulder. “What’s she going to do about it? Ground me?”

“You want me to let you in?” Richie asked.

“Nah.” Eddie said. “Come down here.”

“Okay…” Richie chuckled. “I’ll meet you at the front door. Which you could have just knocked on, by the way.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Eddie asked with a waggle of his brows that he knew Richie wouldn’t be able to see even with his glasses on. Richie shook his head and closed the window, and Eddie half-skipped towards the Tozier’s front door. He was giddy with some sort of deep excitement that he didn’t want to put too much thought into. He felt as if he waited forever outside the Tozier house before Richie finally came out the door. He bounced over and kissed Eddie wetly on the cheek andEddie hoped that the darkness of the night time would cover up his flush. Richie’s arm wrapped around his shoulder, pressing Eddie against his side. “So, what’s the plan, my love?”

Eddie knew the darkness couldn’t cover up the full blush this time, and he turned his face away. Richie kept his arm around him. “I don’t know.” Eddie said honestly. “I didn’t really have a plan at all. I just saw my window and the next thing I knew, I was in a tree.”

“Little rebel Eds!” Richie cheered, jostling Eddie. “I always knew you had it in you! You’re braver than you think!”

“Thanks, Rich.” Eddie said bashfully. “But really, I don’t have any sort of plan. We could go to the Quarry or something? If you want to?”

“Nah.” Richie said. Eddie looked up, surprised, and his stomach jumped at the twinkle in Richie’s eye. “We can go to the Quarry anytime. This is your first time sneaking out, we gotta do something exciting. Something we’ve never done before.”

“I don’t think there’s anything in Derry that we’ve never done before.” Eddie said, his voice coming out just a little too sad. Richie frowned, his brow dipping down and Eddie’s heart fluttered as guilt ticked at the back of his neck. “But it’s fine, really, we can just—”

Richie grinned before he reached down and grabbed Eddie’s hand, beginning to tug him down the dark street. Eddie gasped as his feet hit the ground in a rush to keep up with Richie’s pace. He didn’t want to trip over his own feet, and drag them both down.

“Richie!” Eddie cried, half laughing, half gasping. He was terrified that he would trip and fall, but Richie didn’t seem to have any of those fears at all, taking large strides and Eddie didn’t feel out of breath at all. They took the darkening streets of Derry faster than Eddie had ever travelled without running from something terrifying.

Eddie wasn’t sure exactly how long they ran for, mostly silent aside from the occasional burst of laughter from one or the other, but before Eddie knew it they were running up towards the train station. The lights were on inside, and Eddie felt his heart flutter in his chest. He looked over to Richie, who was smiling at the building while the light reflected in his eyes. He turned to Eddie, their hands still joined, and tugged him inside.

The man behind the glass had given Eddie the creeps since he was just a little boy getting on the train with his mother to visit her sisters. Before Eddie learned first hand that the world was crawling with monsters, he’d thought Gordon at the Train Station was the scariest thing he’d ever seen. With sheet white skin, blue eyes that seemed inhumanly large for his face and black hair that he slicked back with so much hair product it looked permanently wet. At five years old, Eddie had once cried to his mother about the vampire at the station. Sonia had had no time for such whims and foolish fears, but even after defeating an evil kid eating clown, Gordon still freaked Eddie out.

Richie’s hand tightened around Eddie’s as though he knew, and he stood mostly in front of Eddie as he approached the counter. “Two tickets for Chamberlain please.”

Eddie blinked at Richie, frowning in confusion. He knew that Gordon was probably giving him quite a similar look. Chamberlain was a town not too far from Derry, but people did not get off at Chamberlain. It was a ghost town, long since abandoned by all their residents. If rumours were to be believed, there had been some sort of terrible massacre at the high school, and nobody had been able to stomach living there any longer. Within two weeks, each house on every block stood empty and buildings fell into ruins. Eddie supposed it must have been something a little deeper than just some high school students dying for the entire town to up to leave. After all, Eddie lived in a town where children got snatched out of the streets and were never heard from again, and most of the residents barely blinked.

“Now what business do you have out in Chamberlain, boy?” Gordon asked, leaning forward on his elbows and glaring at Richie through the scratched and dirty glass. “That whole place is a ghost town, ain’t nothing for you there.”

Richie raised his brow and gave him a half smirk. “Is it in your job description to inquire why every passenger is going to their destination, or is it just to sell tickets and look miserable all the fucking time?”

Gordon scowled at Richie and Eddie stepped slightly to duck further behind Richie. “Have it your way, kid.” Gordon slid two tickets under the window and gave them both what almost appeared to be sympathetic looks. “Y’all keep your money, I’m not about taking cash from people walking into their deaths. You can pay me if you make it back.”

Eddie’s mouth dropped open, but Richie seemed to take it in stride. “Sick.” He said, grabbing the tickets off the counter and ducking towards the outside platform. Eddie remained, frozen to the spot. Gordon held eye contact with him until Eddie felt his skin break out into goosebumps and he physically had to look away.

“You take care of yourself, Kaspbrak.” Gordon said in a low voice, before taking hold of the window shade and pulling it remove himself from view.

#reddie #reddie fic #my writing #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #loomel #r + e #rowfic #im sorry this has taken 75 years #and that its also like nothing rn #'

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soulwillower · 4 years

Text

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.

#bill denbrough x reader #losers x reader

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assholetozier · 4 years

Text

All You Need Is Love~

Hi! I haven’t been on Tumblr in over two years.. and I just found this short little draft piece I wrote the last time I was here. It’s something that I put a lot of heart into when I first wrote, and I decided to publish it after all this time. If anyone has any requests for fics or anything, please let me know! I’d love to get back into writing.

Quick disclaimer; I wrote this a long time ago, and i had no personal experience with OCD, so if this story is completely off I do sincerely apologize! If I got anything wrong, please feel free to *nicely* give feedback and let me know what I screwed up on!

Trigger Warning- self harm ///

***************************************************

The nights like these were the ones that made Stan regret every decision he's made since he was ten.

Ten was the age when his OCD had slowly started to take over his brain, along with everyone and everything else in his life. At first, it wasn't that bad; just weird that a young boy folded all of his socks and kept everything in order.

What it became over the years, however was a monster over his shoulder. He couldn't sleep at if his sheets weren't tucked, clean and flat. He couldn't just touch something with one hand and not the other without pinching himself, HARD, on both wrists.

When pinching didn't help him anymore, he started putting his hands over lit candles. Which led to razors across wrists, in perfect alignment and symmetry every time.

He didn't know what was wrong. Why couldn't he be normal like his friends? Play at the quarry and have fun without worrying about his feet being perfectly side by side or if his hair was in perfect circle curls. Stan Uris was starting to go mad.

He sat on top of his window sill, looking up at the moon and the stars with a specific... glow that night. His ears were ringing from the yelling he just received from his father about the way Stanley practices his religion.

So what if he honestly didn't give a shit about reading his Torah? Stan had started believing that this was all bullshit; if there was a god out there somewhere he would not let Stan suffer the way he was.

He thought about running over to Richie's, but he knew he had probably ran over to Eddie's for the same reason. Ben's? His mother would talk with his father.... no, that's the last thing he NEEDED.

Beverly and Mike were out roller blading that night alone since everyone else couldn't seem to keep up with the two.

The only person left he could think of was Bill. The boy with the silky pale skin and eyes that made Stan melt. Bill may have been babysitting Georgie that night but honestly, Stan loved that kid and would take any distraction he could get.

And that's how Uris ended up tapping on the pale boy's window, once with each index finger. Twice. For a few seconds, there was nothing, and before Stan could walk away the window slammed open.

"Hey B-bird boy! How can I assist y-you?"

God, did Stan love this boy.

But he rolled his eyes, "Don't call me that, Billiam. Can I crash here tonight?"

They made a knowing eye contact. Bill was the only one who knew about Stan's sad excuse for a father besides for Richie. He planned to keep it that way.

Bill smiles, "Well, are you g-guh-gonna come in?"

The curly haired boy feels himself pulled into the warm room and immediately feel into the familiar bed. It smelled like cinnoman and microwave popcorn.

"Did it h-happen again, Stan?"

He didn't answer, just stared up at the ceiling. He felt a gush of wind as Bill shut the window, run along his wrists.

Stan was wearing a short sleeve shirt.

"Stan?"

"Hmm?"

Bill sighed, "You can t-tell me anything, okay?"

Stan nods frantically, "Yes of course Big Bill....do you have a sweater I can borrow? It's freezing."

The boy oblidged, rummaging through his closet before finding his Ghost Busters hoodie and handing it to the boy.

As Stan reached for it, Bill audibly gulps. His eyes widen, and he scratches his own wrists.

"S-s-Stan?"

The curly haired boy was too busy putting on the hoodie to notice what Bill was freaking over. As soon as he got it over his head though, he squealed.

"Bill, it's not-"

Bill coughs, "How long?"

"What?"

"How long have you been doing this to yourself!" Bill's voice cracked, but it never stuttered.

Stan realized how serious this was.

He lowers his head, "Since I was twelve."

The pale boy's eyes bulged out of his skull. He takes a step back.

"So for the past three years... why d-didn't you tell me?"

"Because I knew this would happen!"

Bill raised an eyebrow, "...what to you mean?”

Stan could feel his heart racing a million miles per minute... it was almost as if he could feel the imprint of his heart if he touched his chest. He knew Bill was angry at him, shit he’d be angry at himself. He wanted to tell someone, anyone, but every time he tried the words wouldn’t come out.

And that’s what happened this time, too. He opened his mouth to speak... but the same lump in his throat formed. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak. Tears pooled in his eyes, blurring his vision. Stan started to pinch himself, hard, two times on each wrist repeatedly, begging for it to help him calm down. Nothing was working.

Stan could hear Bill trying to talk to him, but it was almost as if he was screaming from a distance. His body turned to jello, and felt himself double over into Bill’s arms.

He didn’t want to disappoint anyone ever, and now he’s disappointed one of the most important people on the planet.

As Stan came to, he could feel the warmth on his back from Bill’s arms, holding him firmly and calming him. His breathing slowed, his heart began casually thumping at a normal pace. The curly headed boy allowed himself to lay his head in the crevice of Bills shoulder.

“I didn’t... I didn’t want to disappoint anyone.” It came out in between sniffles and coughs, but god damnit it came out and that was all that mattered.

Bill lifted up Stan’s head, and used his thumbs to wipe the tears off the boy’s cheeks. He looked directly into Stanley’s eyes, and Stan could feel himself swimming in the deep pools.

“I will never be disappointed in you struggling.”

The two boys hugged for a couple of minutes; neither knowing what to say, instead allowing the silence to speak for them. Every second that passed, the tighter the two squeezed, and the more safe Stan felt. He hadn’t felt this safe since the last time his mother tucked him in at night.

Suddenly, there was padded footsteps coming down the hall, followed by a quiet knock at the door.

“Billy...? The timer went off for the brownies a couple minutes ag-”

Bill jumped, and looked up over at Stan, “I t-tuh-totally forgot, tonight w-w-was movie night. Do you want to j-j-join us?”

“Yes please,” Stan couldn’t hold his laughter at Bill’s fluster, as he ran out to check the oven.

When Stan sat on the Denbrough couch, with his head on Bill’s shoulder and Georgie laid across his lap... he realized everything would be okay in the end. He bit each of his cheeks, smiled, and looked up at the opening scene.

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