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yeonjuns-beanie · 2 years

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Hysteria

warnings: nothing really. makeout sesh, mutual pining, fluff, mostly wholesome not what i usually write lol

eddie x female reader

a/n: for sake of plot edward lives to hear this masterpiece of a song. i would also rec listening to hysteria while you read just to set the tone if you haven't heard the song yet. also, i know i started out for this to be a kpop fic blog, but i think imma just make it multifandom now! Might have another eddie fic(smut) in the works… ~nero

It seemed like everyone but you and Eddie knew of your crush on each other. Everyone teased you about it but somehow the both of you were oblivious to it all. Dustin was privy to most of the teasing, although it was harmless coming from him. He was just constantly inquiring about what you were going to do about the situation, seemingly whenever Eddie was in earshot.

You were in the back of the theatre helping them set up for their weekly night of Hellfire. Coming back once a week to the school you had already done your time at, made it feel like you never left. You were painfully close with all the members though, so coming back for a few hours a week wasn’t that big of a deal.

As you and Dustin finished laying out the table, you grabbed your bag searching for the dice bag Eddie always had you bring, claiming that if it was in his hands he would surely lose it. While digging through your bag, you began to panic about not seeing the velvet bag, but before you had the chance to let the panic fully set in Dustin tapped you on your shoulder.

“So when are you gonna tell him y/n?”

He was enthusiastic in his delivery, really cheering you on from the sidelines. Although Eddie wasn’t in the room yet, you motioned for Dustin to quiet down fearful of Eddie popping in out of nowhere.

“You can’t just go around asking that, Dustin.”

You began to hear the chatter of Mike, Gareth, and the other members echo through the halls as Dustin found his words.

“Everyone knows y/n. Not like it’s a secret. Well, not Eddie, maybe. Which I’m not sure how. Maybe he-“

“-Maybe I what?”

A sharp chill ran up your spine and trickled down in your stomach sinking it into the floor. You begged any deity that was listening that Eddie hadn’t heard the previous exchange you and Dustin had. Quickly covering your ass, you spoke up.

“We were talking about how maybe you had taken the dice bag already. I can’t find it in my bag.”

Eddie furrowed his brow trying to figure out for himself if he did take the dice bag.

“I don’t think I did, sweetheart.”

“Damn. Can I have the keys to your van then, I think maybe they fell out while we were driving here.”

Eddie dug in his pocket and tossed you his keys. As you picked yourself up from the floor you quickly walked out of the theatre and all but ran down the halls to get to the parking lot.

Sweetheart. Why does he always have to call me that?

It was just a nickname. One that he used even for his guitar, but you couldn’t help the fuzzy feeling that spread through you when he said it. Once you got to the doors, the cool night air chilled the heat that was growing in your face. You hoped your flustered emotions didn’t bleed through your expression. You unlocked the doors to his van and searched in the front seats, blindly petting the floor until your fingers grazed across a velvet bag.

“There they are!”

Closing the door and locking the car, you walked back into the building. Thinking to yourself about how the dice bag fell out of your bag on the way here. Turning the corner, you heard a cacophony of echoed voices stream out of the theatre hall. Walking back into the room you dangled the bag in the air, shaking it as you spoke.

“Found them!”

A roll of scattered yes’s flowed through the boys' voices as Eddie just smiled at you lightly. His eyes were softer than when you left. In a posh accent you delicately placed the velvet bag into Eddie’s hand.

“For the DM.”

You sat back on the floor and pulled a book out from your bag deciding to catch up on some reading. You loved playing DnD with Hellfire but this specific campaign you decided to sit out, knowing you had class work you needed to catch up on.

You looked at your watch, realizing almost two hours had gone by. With a final roll made by Dustin, he completed the first half of the campaign for the night. The younger boys grabbed their bags while you helped Eddie gather all of his things, taking the bag of dice and his DM binder.

“I have hands, ya know”

“Yes, I can see them, but you have to break down the table so I’m going to hold this while you do so.”

Eddie smiled before wrapping his lips around his teeth, swallowing the toothy grin he was about to give. As Eddie pushed the table back to its resting spot Mike called out to everyone.

“Does anyone wanna grab food after this? I’m starving!”

You looked over at Eddie as he walked over cocking your head slightly alluding to an idea. You said quietly enough just so that he could hear.

“Pizza at your place?”

“Fine with me.”

“Y’all wanna come to Eddie’s and we’ll order pizza?”

A choir of yeses followed suit and you all began to walk out of the building. You still were holding onto Eddie’s binder and he tried to grab it from you but you swiped it away from his reach. He scoffed at you and tried to grab at it again and you dodged just in time.

“At least let me carry the thing that’s mine. If not, let me take your bag.”

“It��s fine we’re almost outside anyway.”

Eddie made a move for your bag again before Gareth called out from behind you.

“Can y’all just tell each other you like each other instead of playing footsie every chance you get?”

It was obviously said in jest, but both you and Eddie pulled away from each other, slightly embarrassed by the comment. As Dustin said, it was obvious to everyone else except you two. Heading to Eddie’s van, everyone climbed in the back and tossed their bikes in as well, leaving the passenger seat upfront for you.

The drive to Eddie’s was loud. It was always loud whenever you were in his van. His music blasted through the speakers of the car and rattled the walls, adding an extra element to the already heavy music. Pulling up in front of his trailer everyone climbed out of his van.

As you opened the passenger door, you bent down to grab his binder and Eddie was quick to grab your bag before you could. You stared at him with an unenthused look dressing your eyes and he made a mocking face back, happy to have gotten your bag. Mike groaned before following you all up the steps.

“God, you guys are like a married couple.”

You laughed off your flustered state, choking out a small “how?”.

“Just the way you guys are with each other it’s like you guys have known each other for years.”

Eddie was silent and you chuckled again, firm in not letting your emotions show.

As Eddie set your bag on the kitchen counter you walked to the phone getting ready to order. The dial tone rang four times before someone picked up and you placed the order. You had missed the dinner rush but it wasn’t exactly late in the night either so the man told you it would be about 30 minutes at most before the pizza would be delivered.

While waiting for the pizza to come you guys all gathered around the main room. Digging in your bag you pulled out a card deck.

“Y’all wanna play Uno?”

Everyone nodded as you handed out the cards. Eddie squeezed in next to you and Dustin wiggled his eyebrows to which you gave him a look telling him to cut it out. After a few rounds of Uno, there was a knock on the door. Both you and Eddie stood up getting ready to battle over who was gonna pay.

“Y/n, sit down. As a guest in my home, you will not be paying.”

You sighed, upset that he saw through your motions that quickly.

“At least lemme cover tip.”

You both looked at each other knowing that neither one was gonna give in so you both settled at the door giving the delivery guy your share. Setting the pizzas on the counter everyone grabbed a few slices. You and Eddie stayed crowded around the kitchen counter while watching the boys mingle and eat with one another in the main room.

“They’re still funny as ever”

Eddie looked towards you, his big brown eyes searching yours.

“I know. I kinda miss seeing them every day. Surprised they still let me run the campaigns.”

You furrowed your brow.

“Why would they not? You are the Hellfire cult leader.”

You joked, getting Eddie to roll his eyes and you pushed his shoulder in response. Turning around to grab another slice of pizza you noticed the rest of the boys standing up and gathering their things.

“Alright, I think we’re gonna start heading out, my mom’s gonna start wondering where I’m at anyway.”

Mike said while strapping his backpack over his shoulders. Eddie looked up at everyone.

“Does anyone need a ride back to their house?”

All of them collectively said ”no” a little too quickly and set a tone of suspicion between everyone. Dustin quickly covered,

“We’ll be alright, we’re not too far anyway.”

You walked over to hug everyone goodbye, Dustin holding onto you a little bit longer to whisper something in your ear.

“Tell him while you’re here and walkie me when you’re home! Tell me everything.”

You gave him a small smile, finding the courage he thought you had endearing. Watching them all file out the door, you shut the door after you saw them all ride away on their bikes. Looking over at Eddie, he was already looking at you as if he was trying to figure out what to say.

“Wanna hang out in my room for a bit?”

“Sure.”

Following Eddie into his room, you sat down on his bed while he shuffled through some of his records, trying to figure out what he should put on for background noise.

“Sooo, what’s your favorite song lately?”

You flopped back on his bed really thinking about your answer.

“Ugh. I don’t know there’s so many…but if I had to choose, probably Hysteria by Def Leppard.”

Eddie whipped his head around to look at you.

“No way.”

“Yes, way. Why?”

“It’s my favorite too right now. Why’s it your favorite?”

You paused. Afraid of saying too much at once and not being able to capture the word vomit. Biting your bottom lip you sat up and looked up at him through your lashes.

“It makes me think of someone. Why’s it yours”

Eddie stopped in his tracks, stopping the record from falling out from its casing.

“I think it’s easier if I show you.”

Sighing, he put the record on the player and let the needle drop. Walking over to you, he sat down making the bed dip with his weight. As you turned your head to look at him the guitar riff to Hysteria started to reverberate through the speakers.

“So who does it make you think of?”

I gotta know tonight

Both of your hearts were pounding but neither one of you was close enough to tell. His question hung in the air without an answer.

Can’t stop this feeling, Can’t stop this fire

Eddie spoke up, his voice pulling you from your thoughts trying to figure out how you were gonna tell him your feelings.

“Wait! This part right here. It just sounds so good. Listen.”

Oh, I get hysterical, hysteria

Oh, can you feel it?

Eddie had his eyes closed trying his best to feel the music and not the plethora of feelings for you. Unintentionally feeling them build up with the essence of the song lyrics bleeding into real life. You were staring at him in awe. He was grungy and pretty, gentle and rough all at once. His passion for the music making you fall just a little bit more in love with him.

When he opened his eyes, he caught your stare and it made him feel all kinds of warm on the inside. He stopped his movement and stared at you, a certain kind of tenderness and fear swimming in his reflection.

“Can I tell you something? I think it…it would be better if you knew.”

You nodded your head lightly, prepared for anything.

Out of me, into you, yeah

“I can’t hide it anymore. If I do, I honestly feel like I’ll suffocate.”

Open wide, that’s right, dream me off my feet. Oh, believe in me

“I like you, y/n. I have for too long now it seems for not having told you. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way, I just needed to tell you.”

I gotta know tonight

There was a quick silence shared between the two of you before you looked back up into his chocolatey eyes, fear evident in the front of them. You scanned his features, noticing the small smile on his lips, hopeful still that you shared the same feelings.

Can’t stop this feeling

“I do too. I like you too, Eddie.”

You looked at him again, suddenly feeling so small under his gaze while admitting your true feelings. It felt as if a massive weight had been lifted off your shoulders but at the same time, you were more than ecstatic to know that he shared the same emotions as you.

Your heart sped up but now for a different reason. You could feel your chest rising and falling at a faster pace and it felt like the room was closing in on you two. You began to feel the heat radiating off of Eddie as he drew closer to your face.

“Can I try something?”

You nodded, a smile beginning to tug at the corners of your lips. Eddie’s face was now inches from yours and he flickered his eyes one last time before landing his lips on yours.

Oh, I get hysterical, hysteria.

Canons of pent of feelings burst and blossomed into pure adoration as your lips melded with his. His kiss was gentle but wanton. Needy but loving in one take.

It’s such a magical, mysteria

Eddie’s hand found its way to your thigh, slowly trailing up and down your side. He moved his body in a way that allowed you to open yourself up more to him and scoot further back towards the middle of the bed. Your lips were still fervently attached to one another, the pace of the kiss speeding up with each second.

With Eddie now hovering above you, your hands moved to find refuge on his shoulders. Trying to find something to ground you to reality, while the emotions barred through the kiss kept you wading in a moment of magical delirium. Your hand entwined its way into Eddie’s hair, pulling lightly at the hairs near the nape of his neck. Eddie made a small sound into your mouth and you received it with impassioned delight.

Eddie filled the kiss with a bit more lust as he bit your bottom lip and tugged it between his teeth, pulling back to look at you before placing searing and tender kisses on your jaw and down your neck. Pulling away once more, he rested his forehead on yours.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that.”

He panted out his words as if his body wouldn’t let him realize the reality of his world yet. You smiled and placed a quick peck on his lips, bringing your hand up to cup his cheek.

“Wanna show me what else you’ve been holding out on?”

Eddie smirked, knowing where your question was alluding to. Before he could explicitly say yes though, he had one more thing to get off of his chest.

“Sweetheart, you already know what comes next. But first, I gotta ask you something.”

Placing another kiss on your soft lips, he had to remind himself that everything that was happening was real.

“Be mine. From now till whenever the world ends. Will you?”

Instead of answering him directly, you pulled him by the collar of his shirt bringing him to your lips yet again. You smiled into the kiss before pulling away and staring deeply into his puppy-brown eyes.

“Without a doubt. I’m yours from now till whenever you don’t want me to be yours.”

Smiling down at you, he laughed out his next words before continuing his previous assault down your neck.

“Well princess, sounds like forever is in store for us.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fluff #stranger things imagine

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androcola · 3 years

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Light my fire (Misty Mountain Hop)

Summary: Mike stumbles across a group of friendly hippies.

Trigger warnings: drugs, sexual acts, weight mention, food and eating.

Mike opened his eyes with a quiet yawn, a stretch, and a quick scratch of his head. The sun was up but the sky was rather dark, he'd know what time it was if his watch wasn't on the fritz. He rubbed his eyes and sniffled, living on the streets had worn out his immune and he was trying hard to get over a nagging cold.

He sat up slowly and winced as a twinge of pain shot up his back from lying on the hard ground. He drew his hands up his lower back and massaged deeply for a moment before grabbing his wool hat which he held on his stomach throughout the night and pulled it on over his greasy, unkempt hair. He looked up at the loud and busy city around him for a moment before slowly making it to his feet. Best get the day on before the hunger pangs set in.

Sometimes he wished the city would quiet down during the night, he hadn't had a quiet sleep in so long, but this city just doesn't seem to rest.

He groaned as he bent down and lifted his guitar case and slung it onto his back. He could swear that case got heavier everyday. It was time to get going. It was time to wander around aimlessly and fail at any attempt at finding even a morsel of food. He began, sluggishly, hanging his still tired head as he did.

He hated to think of it, but sometimes he wondered if maybe his pa was right, maybe he wasn't cut out for the big city no how. Oh well, not that it mattered much now, he'd feel rather foolish suddenly showing up on his parent's doorstep after a month and a half, and even if one day he finally swallowed his pride and decided to go back, he didn't have the bread for it.

At this point, he'd take any form of bread. And maybe a hot shower.

He scratched his prickly cheek as he let out another yawn, he could really use a shave right about now. He wondered if he could possibly concoct a makeshift razor like the cavemen did. Surely that's what they did.

He lifted his head and took a look at the sky, it looked quite cloudy, like rain was on it's way. He sniffed at the air but his nose was too stuffy to pick up the smell of rain to know for sure. The air was cool and moist and there was a light breeze blowing through the trees. He lowered his head and continued to walk, watching his feet as he did.

His stomach groaned after catching up and realizing it was still empty, he placed his hand on his stomach, just wishing that he could sit down to a big breakfast. He had to cut a few new notches into his belt just so his pants wouldn't fall down from his thinning waist. His hope for making it was wearing thin and he couldn't see a way out of this situation, everyday he just prayed for a miracle. Like an abandoned plate or a stray hundred dollar bill.

A fear loomed in the back of his mind, the fear that one day he'll grow so desperate that he'll have to pawn off his guitar for a couple weeks worth of food money. Just the thought of it made him shudder, but he didn't know how much longer he could live like this.

As he walked past a reflective window in the front of a building, he stopped to look himself over, stepping up slowly to the glass. His face had grown thin and nearly gaunt, his clothes were dirty and stained, even tattered in some areas, and seemed bigger on him. He barely recognized himself from the last time he'd seen himself, but he couldn't even remember the last time he'd looked in a mirror. It's a good thing he could remember faces well, because otherwise he probably would've forgotten what he looked like.

He sighed as he drew his hand up to his face and grazed his fingertips across his thin cheeks.

Suddenly, a slow and distant rumble startled him slightly and he looked away from himself and back at the sky for a moment, he couldn't be sure, but to him it almost sounded like thunder. He stood still with his eyes to the sky, waiting for the sound to maybe come around again. After not hearing anything for a minute, he put his head back down and carried on.

If it were thunder, he wouldn't be surprised, but as he had nowhere to go, he hoped that it wouldn't turn out that way. He had no shelter if it were to suddenly start coming down.

As he walked on, he began to wonder, what day is it? He had lost all track of the weeks and time since coming out to LA. The days felt like they were going in circles, all the same, getting him nowhere.

He looked up when a green Volkswagen Bug drove slowly past him and he watched as it disappeared around the corner. He would've loved to have his own car. Atleast that way he'd have somewhere a bit more pleasant to sleep, and driving around would definitely beat walking around. His legs have grown so tired carrying him around everyday.

Maybe if his situation worsens anymore, he'll take up street performing with an open guitar case for the donations of strangers kind enough to waste twenty five cents to a dollar on a random homeless man. And who knows? Maybe that could be how he gets noticed. Not the most ideal way in his head, but at this point, it would be better than nothing. Even a few cents could buy him a cheap sandwich.

He paused for a second when a cold droplet of liquid fell onto the side of his hand, and then another, and then another. He raised his head and felt a droplet hit his face and begin to run down his cheek. He wiped his cheek and looked down at his hand as he began to hear tapping all around him. Little dark spots began to form on the concrete around him as the droplets fell.

Rain. Just as he thought.

But it only seemed to be a sprinkle for now. Maybe it'll be fine. He dropped his hand to his side and carried on, shivering slightly as a cool breeze blew by. He had a feeling that soon he'll be scrambling for a place to hide. Maybe if it rained heavy enough he'd take that chance to wash his hair.

The thunder growled like his stomach, growing loud and dying down at random. Soon, the rain began to pick up, going from a sprinkle to a light shower and the tapping became a steady patter.

He started to pick up his pace, now searching for somewhere to get to before the rain became any heavier, whether it be a bus shelter or the awning of an establishment, anything would be better than being soaking wet and cold right now.

As the rain became heavier, he sped up. If he had thought of it, he would've tried to fit an umbrella in his guitar case before he left home.

With a sudden and loud clap of lightening, the rain became so heavy that he could barely see a foot past himself. He put his hands over his head and began running, the guitar on his back weighing him down quite a bit.

“In here, brother!” an unfamiliar voice suddenly called to him as a hand reached out from a tight alley way. “Wuh?” said Mike, looking back. “Come on, in here, man.” the voice said as the hand grabbed Mike's wrist and pulled him in. Suddenly, the rain wasn't falling on him anymore. He looked around frantically before looking down to see a group of people sitting on a plush blanket on the ground looking up at him.

“Hey, cat. You don't look so good.” the man said. Mike looked up at the man, finally getting a good look at him. He had shoulder length brown hair, thick sideburns and a mustache, and a heavy brown coat with a beige fur lining. His jeans were baggy and a bit torn and he wore dirty boots. He looked rather scruffy.

Mike himself looked rather sickly. His soaking wet clothes hung on his thin frame, dripping. His eyes and cheeks were sunken and he looked completely emaciated. He appeared to be growing a bit of a beard.

“Who...” Mike muttered. “Why don't you sit down and relax?” a woman's voice suddenly spoke. He looked down at a woman with long blonde hair and a similar brown coat, blue jeans and boots. She sat amongst a small group of other men and women.

“Who are you guys?...” Mike asked, wrapping his arms around himself. “We're friends.” the man replied, putting his arm over Mike's shoulder and motioning for him to sit down. Reluctantly, Mike sat down and the man sat down across from him.

Mike looked up, wondering what had stopped the rain from falling on him. Upon looking up, he saw what appeared to be a makeshift garbage bag tent taped together and to the sides of the two buildings making the alley way. “My name's Roger.” the man said. “Uh... Mike.” Mike replied. “You look hungry.” the woman said, pulling out a small bowl with what appeared to be little cakes in it. Mike looked down and his eyes widened and his mouth began to water.

Roger then pushed the bowl of cakes away. “Woah, now. I don't think he's ready for those, yet.” he said. “Oh, right.” the woman agreed, handing the bowl to the others to pick through instead. Mike frowned. “When's the last time you ate somethin', man?” Roger asked. “Uhm... 'bout a month...” Mike replied quietly, twiddling his thumbs. “A month? Man, how're you not dead?” Roger asked as he started digging around in a little basket. “I ask myself that everyday..." Mike sighed.

“Here ya go, cat.” Roger said, pulling out a turkey sandwich and passing it to Mike. And in that moment, Mike realized just how wide his eyes could become. “Thank you...” he stammered, quiet but grateful as he took the sandwich gently. He couldn't believe it, there it was, right in his hands, food. “Why don't you get that case off your back? That can't be comfortable.” the woman suggested. Mike looked up and stared at her for a moment.

“Oh, right...” he said as he then pulled the case off his back and the man reached over to help him set it down carefully. “Thank you.” Mike said before taking a bite of his sandwich. He almost wanted to cry, it had been so long since he'd had any food in his mouth, he had nearly forgotten just how amazing it felt.

“What's in the case?” Roger asked. “Guitar.” Mike said hastily, stuffing his face. “Ohh, a guitar.” the woman said with a bit of excitement in her voice. “Well, whip it out.” one of the men in the group said. “Now, come on. Let's let him eat. Then we can get to havin' fun.” Roger said as he watched Mike wolf down the sandwich. “Don't eat too fast, man. You'll make yourself sick. Or you'll bite your finger off.” Roger warned.

“Are you from California?” the woman asked. “Texas.” Mike blurted as he kept eating. “Texas? That's a long way to go.” Roger said. Mike nodded, looking up for a moment and seeing one of the men in the group rolling up a little piece of paper. He slowed down and lowered his sandwich slightly.

“Uhh... So... What are you guys doin' here, anyway?...” he suddenly asked. “Oh, don't worry about that.” Roger chuckled. “Yeah, just try to relax and have some fun.” The woman added. “Oh!” she said suddenly, “I forgot to introduce myself. My name's Ginger.” she said with a warm smile. “Mike.” Mike repeated. Ginger laughed.

“What are you doin' here?” Roger asked. Mike looked down, thinking of a reply. “Just tryin' to make it, I guess...” he said solemnly. “But... Sometimes I feel like I don't belong here...” he sighed. “Do you miss Texas?” Roger asked. “Oh, more than anything.... but... I couldn't stay there.” he replied. “Then maybe you are meant to be here.” Ginger said softly. “... maybe.” Mike replied, taking another small bite of his sandwich.

“So... Did you guys... make this little set up?” Mike asked. “Yep, we did. It's not the prettiest thing, but it gets the job done.” Roger replied. “The trick is to get it set up before it starts rainin' cats and dogs.” he said. Mike felt a small smile pull at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah...” he said as he took another bite of his sandwich, watching what one of the men was doing nervously.

The man then pulled out a small pocket lighter and lit the end of his little paper roll and it began to smoke and suddenly Mike's food caught in his throat and he sat up, alert. “Is that” — he started, “You're not gonna go tellin', are you?” Roger asked as the other man drew the roll to his lips and breathed in deep. “Uh... I...” Mike stammered, “Of...course not... I promise.” he said.

“Good, good.” Roger said. The other man passed it to Ginger and she took it happily and puffed. “Maybe I should... get goin'...” Mike said as he pushed himself up a bit. “No way, cat. You can't go out in that rain, you'll get sick.” Roger said, reaching out and pushing on Mike's shoulder to keep him down. “Oh, I already am, it's alright.” Mike said as he squirmed nervously.

“Here, this will help you relax.” Ginger said as she slipped the bowl of cakes over to Mike, passing the little roll to another woman beside her. “Ohh, no thanks, I don't think I want them anymore.” Mike said as he put his hands up politely. He has a pretty clear idea of what they were now. “I'll sure have one.” Roger said, reaching his hand over into the bowl and pulling out a brownie.

Mike looked back nervously to see the rain still coming down heavy, it pounded at the little garbage bag tent above him. He whimpered quietly and wrapped his arms around himself. “C'mon, you seem so tense, wouldn't ya like to relax for a while?” Roger asked. “I'm fine, I'm fine, really.” Mike insisted, looking back at the man, and even through his stuffy nose, he could smell that heavy aroma, almost smelling like skunk. He wrinkled his nose at the scent.

He looked down at the last bit of his sandwich, but his appetite had faded. “Why don't you bring out that guitar now?” one of the men asked before beginning to cough loudly after taking a puff from the communal joint. Mike rubbed his arms up and down nervously. “Well... I...” he stuttered. “Come on, play us a song!” Ginger laughed. “Play House of the rising sun!” another man said.

The group began to cheer and Ginger crawled over to Mike and started pushing on his shoulder, cheering him on. “Okay, okay!...” Mike broke, putting his hands up in an attempt to calm the loud cheering around him. He reached over and unlatched his guitar case and pulled out his guitar and everyone cheered again briefly. He set it onto his lap and began to tune every string. “E... A... D... G... B... e...” he muttered quietly to himself as he went up each string.

“House of the rising sun!” one of the men shouted and the whole group began to cheer for said song. “Okay, okay, cool it...” Mike said as he formed his fingers in the shape of an Aminor. He began to play and everyone cheered once more. “Sing!” Ginger said, pushing Mike's shoulder again.

“There is a house in New Orleans...“ Mike stammered. “They call the rising sun, and it's been the ruin of many a poor boy, and god, I know I'm one.” he sang.

Aminor, C, D, F, Aminor, E, Aminor.

As he sang, everyone began to unwind and get comfortable. Very comfortable. They began to hold each other. In a cacophony of coughs and music, everyone was having a good time. Even Mike, as nervous as he felt, began to relax a little as he sang.

“My mother was a tailor, she sewed my new blue jeans. My father was a gamblin' man down in New Orleans.” he sang, watching his hand as he picked and strummed. The stoned woman began to run her fingers up Mike's back, causing his to hiss slightly.

“Now, the only thing a gambler needs, is a suitcase and a trunk. And the only time that he's satisfied, is when he's on a drunk.” he began to sing now with a bit of a stammer, sounding nervous again. Ginger laid against him and the joint was passed back to her. She grabbed it and took a few puffs before passing it back. Mike started to cough as he played, the smoke was becoming thick, making his throat feel scratchy.

Aminor, C, D, F, Aminor, C, E7.

He pulled away from the woman a little as she leaned on him more.

“Oh, mother... Tell your children... not to do what I have done. Spend your life in sin and misery in the house of the rising sun.” he sang hoarsely before coughing a little again. “Well, I've one foot on the platform, the other foot on the train. I'm goin' back to New Orleans to wear that ball and chain.” he sang. “Oh, this is great...” Ginger muttered, high as a kite and light as air.

Mike watched as everyone began to roll over with each other, they were now occupied with something else and the joint was set down in a small glass ashtray. “W... Well there is a... House in New Orleans... They call the rising sun... And it's... been the ruin of many a poor boy... and god, I know I'm one.” he sang, striking the last chord, ending the song.

“Woo! That was amazing!” Ginger cheered, throwing her arms around Mike's neck. “Uh... Thank you...” Mike said, setting his guitar down carefully. “Well, maybe I should get goin', now...” he said, setting his guitar back in it's case and latching it closed. “Oh, wait, wait... I was thinking maybe we could...” Ginger ran her hand down Mike's chest “could what...?” Mike asked, growing tense.

“fool around...” Ginger replied, reaching her hand up and running her fingertips across Mike's prickly and ridgid face, feather light. “Uh,” Mike pushed the lady away gently “Maybe you could just... hang with the other guys!...” he sputtered. He looked around.

All the men and women were all over each other, now. Holding, grabbing, kissing, and more. Some women grabbed other women and some men grabbed other men. It was beginning to turn into a real love fest in this little tent. He felt himself break out in a nervous and embarrassed sweat.

“Oh, come on... Everyone else is doing it. It'll be nice...” she said. “Here, hold on.” She said as she reached over and pulled the joint from the small ashtray. “This should help you relax...” she said as she stuck it to his lips.

He jerked away from her and spit. “No! No thanks, please!” he insisted. “I'm... not into that kind of stuff...” he said as he wiped his mouth. She only smiled and pulled his head towards hers. “Are you into this?...” she asked before attempting to kiss him on the lips. Mike struggled and pulled his head away from her. “You–you... You don't wanna kiss me, I'm sick! I've had a cold for weeks!” he stuttered before she pulled his head back over and planted her lips onto his in a deep kiss. Mike yanked back the best he could.

He couldn't let her do this, she was far too intoxicated to know what she was doing. How was she gonna feel in the morning when her friends tell her she made out with some smelly homeless man? He really didn't want it, either. “Oh, come on!... Let's just have some fun, okay?...” she said as she crawled onto him slowly, slipping her hand into his shirt and feeling his ribs that popped out of his chest.

“Please!... I... think I need to go!...” Mike pleaded, not wanting to push or shove her, but pushing her arms very lightly. She rubbed his ribs and slowly drew her hand down his inverted stomach, running her fingers through the hair around his belly button. Slowly, she moved her hand south, now slipping her fingers under his belt. He snatched her wrist and pulled it out of his clothes before pulling away, immediately regretting laying a hand on her in such a way.

“I'm!... sorry, I didn't meant to... to...” he stuttered as she laid across him and ran her fingers through his wet hair, pushing her hand under his hat. “You don't have to call me, if that's what you're worried about...” she said as she reached over and grabbed the joint and took another puff. She exhaled a thick cloud of smoke and Mike began to cough heavily. His cough was dry and pained.

“You're just so tense... Would you like a brownie instead?...” she asked. “No, no... I... think I've lost my appetite... I'd like to go now... I think I've got somewhere to be...” Mike said, his throat was scratchy and his voice was hoarse. The woman grabbed his hat from his head and played with the puff ball on the top of it. “I like your hat...” she said with a smile. “Could I... have that back?...” Mike asked. She then laid it down on his chest and ran her fingers across his jawline.

“I love a man with a beard...” she said. Mike pulled his face away from her hand and grabbed his hat and pulled it back on over his hair and tried to inch out from under her. “I really need to go... I really need to go...” he whimpered. She then pushed herself up a little, putting all her weight on his chest, pushing the air out of him a little.

“Don't you like this?... Isn't this what guys like?...” she asked, seeming a little upset now. “I'm sure some guys like it! Those guys are just messed up...” Mike blurted. She dropped back down onto his chest with all her weight like she wasn't even aware that she was still lying on him. She didn't say anything.

“I mean...” Mike took a deep breath. “It's... It's not you... but a guy should like you even when you're... y'know... you. But you're not you right now... and... I don't know you, and you don't know me... It shouldn't be this way.” Mike said softly.

She didn't respond. “I've gotta go...” he said.

She yawned and let up finally, now just lying on him with her head on his chest, occasionally reaching up to play with his hair. He stayed still for a moment as she relaxed on him and became drowsy.

“Hello?..." he uttered. She lifted her head a little and kissed his jaw and he cringed for a moment. “Let's... just sleep together...” she yawned. Mike felt a bit sick at his stomach, but he stayed in place, just waiting for her to nod off to sleep so he could slip out quietly and without being noticed.

Everything fell silent, save for the snoring of everyone that had fallen asleep, and the snoring of the woman on top of him. He sighed and looked up at the garbage bag tent above him, watching little spots being pushed in by rain droplets.

Outside, it sounded like the rain had let up a little, maybe now was the best time to leave. He took another deep breath as he took the sleeping woman by the shoulders and gently pushed her off himself and onto the ground next to him, making sure to push her onto the blanket where the others slept.

He stood up slowly and brushed himself off and tried to shake off the touch of the woman. His clothes were gonna smell like this forever, now. Great.

“Sorry... but... Thanks for the sandwich...” he whispered as he bent down and carefully grabbed his guitar case and pulled it up onto his back. He quietly crept out past a few sleeping people and stepped out from underneath the tent and back out into the rain. It was just a light shower once more.

As he walked away, he looked back for a moment at the tent full of sleeping hippies and turned around. “I promise I won't tell anyone.” he said as he turned his back and walked away into the rainy city and wandered away.

Well, atleast he got a free sandwich.

#m&m headcanon #monkees headcanon #the monkees #writing #drugs tw #sex mention tw #sex tw #weight tw #weight mention tw #food #eating #ooeuurgh you guys better read this

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allthings-chaos · 3 years

Note

That's cool you make requests! Would you mind to write a scenario what KI3T is having a romantic date with his young adult female girlfriend? I thought KI3T could have developped personality more than before 🤔 Thanks!

Yes! I apologize for the wait, I have been busy! Forewarning, I am not the best with romantic scenes, but I did try. I hope you like it!

Word Count: 1,238

Requested:

“How come (Y/N) gets to leave?”

Sarah, Mike, Billy, and Zoe were all in the main area of the SSC with KITT and.. Well, you- and you had a bag packed, one that would last a few days.

“Mike, I already told you, we’re all taking turns to decompress. She’s first because KITT asked that she go first.” Sarah explained to Mike, who was quite literally pouting at that time.

“You traitor!” Mike huffed at KITT, sitting down on the couch that he and Billy had just moved in front of KITT.

KITT didn’t respond, as he opened his driver door for you to hop in.

Once you had gotten into the driver’s seat, and put the seat belt on, KITT drove out through the tunnel, as you simply set your bag into the passenger seat. “So, where are we going?”

“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, now would it?” KITT responded, to which you just rolled your eyes. “Can you at least tell me how long it'll be until we get there?”

“Three hours, fourteen minutes, and seventeen seconds.”

“Really? So I could take a nap then-” You responded, with a laugh.

“You could.”

You then frowned, staring at his dash for a while, before you sighed. “This is going to be real boring if you go all silent on me.”

“Would you prefer that I play a movie for you?” KITT responded simply, trying to make the drive less boring.

“Well, sure, but why are you acting so odd?” You asked him, raising a brow as you looked at the movie he had put onto the hologram screen. “It’s not like everyone at the SSC is watching us.”

They all, in fact, were watching, and KITT was aware of this.

You took the hint at his silence, and grinned. “Why’re you all spying? That’s not very nice.”

Right then, the video chat screen popped up with Zoe. “It was Billy’s idea.”

“Billy?” You laughed again, “Billy’s too innocent. It was either your idea, or Mike’s.”

“I tried to give KITT some tips on flirting, I wanted to see if he’d use them.” Zoe shrugged, although Mike was laughing in the background, so clearly some of it had been his idea.

“Either way, you’re making KITT uncomfortable.” You told them, shaking your head. “So if you could leave us be, that would be great.”

“Oh come on, we need some amusement too-”

“Going offline.” KITT stated, before the chat disappeared, and you began to laugh.

“Oh, good one!” You told KITT, “Now they really can’t bother us, can they?”

“The only way for them to contact us, would be through your cell phone.”

“I’ll shut it off,” You shrugged, getting your phone out and shutting it all the way down. “I don’t want to be bothered.”

“I do not wish for us to be interrupted either.” KITT actually admitted. “However, we will need to make a stop in approximately one hour, to refuel.”

You nodded, covering yourself up with the blanket you’d brought along. “Okay. Wake me up once we get to a gas station then?”

“I will.”

It was exactly one hour later when KITT woke you up, right as he pulled into a gas station. You yawned as you sat up, digging your wallet out of your bag. “Gas with a side of sugar?”

“Gas only, please.” KITT responded, although he knew you were only joking. You’d gotten after Mike once for threatening KITT with sugar.

You soon had filled up KITT’s tank, then decided to go into the small gas station, grabbing your favorite candy and drink, before paying and going back out to KITT. You hopped into the driver's seat again, before closing the door. “Do you ever get tired, KITT?”

“In what context?”

“I dunno.. I just wondered if you ever like.. feel tired? In any way?” You responded, pulling your blanket up to your chin as he began to drive away.

“I suppose I do.” KITT responded, turning onto the highway, and continuing on to their destination. “Perhaps it is more from annoyance.”

“From Mike?” You asked, knowing that was who annoyed KITT. “Do I ever annoy you?”

“No, you do not.”

“Well that’s good.” You shrugged with a tired smile, “I’m going to nap for a bit longer, unless you want to talk.”

“I believe it would be best if you slept for a while longer, you appear to be fatigued.” KITT seemed to enjoy having some silence.

You nodded, balling up a bit of your blanket against the window, before resting your head on it, trying to go back to sleep. “G’night, KITT.”

“Goodnight.” Normally KITT would have corrected you about it not being night, but he had stopped doing that recently.

Eventually, KITT had come to a stop outside of a small cabin that had access to a private beach, although he let you wake up on your own, not wanting to disturb you.

Once you’d woken up, KITT spoke up. “We have arrived.”

You nodded, yawning before pulling the blanket off of yourself. “I see that. Just in time for the sunset too, huh?”

“I planned it that way.” KITT admitted, “Would you like to go to the beach?”

“I’d love to- but KITT,” You started, as he began driving around the cabin and to the beach. “You’re not going into the water. I am not cleaning seaweed off of you again.”

“I suppose that is fair.”

Once he had parked in the sand, you decided to hop out of the car and lay your blanket down, sitting on that as the sun began to set. “Did you plan this all out?”

“I had some help from Sarah.” KITT admitted, “Do you like it?”

“I do,” You responded with a smile, “I’ll make sure Mike doesn’t tease you though, promise.”

“Thank you, (Y/N).” KITT responded, before his trunk popped open. “I brought your favorite snacks along.”

“You did? Aw, you’re too sweet.” You were maybe overly happy about the snacks, and hopped up to go get them, before soon sitting back down beside KITT, beginning to watch the sunset, as you leaned against the car.

The two of you sat in silence for quite awhile, as nothing needed to be said.. although KITT soon spoke. “There is something under the passenger seat for you.”

You looked over, admittedly a bit confused. “What’s under the seat?”

“I promise that it is not a spider.”

You then raised a brow, getting up and going over to look. “It better not be, cause if it is, I might have to give you the silent treatment-“ However, when you saw the box with a bow on it, and opened it up, it was a bit of a surprise. “A promise ring?”

“Yes,” KITT responded, “I would like to tell you that the ring was my own idea. Do you like it?”

“No- KITT, I love it!” You responded, slipping it onto your finger. “I’d be giving you a kiss right now if it were possible..”

“It may be possible, eventually. I have been trying to design a human body for myself.” KITT informed you, “Although it is proving difficult. I am glad that you like the ring.”

“KITT?” You started, after setting the box back into the passenger seat.

“Yes?” He responded, seeming to be unsure of what you were about to say.

“I love you.”

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santacarlahorrorshow · 3 years

Text

There’s a Bad Moon on the Rise (Ben Hanscom/Reader) (3/3)

Summary: You're Richie's twin sister and a member of the Losers' Club. When the other members all pack up and leave town, you elect to stay behind with Mike to wait for It to come back. After 27 years pass and Pennywise returns, will you and the other Losers be able to finally defeat him?

Pairing: Ben Hanscom/Reader; Richie Tozier & Reader; Background Richie Tozier/Eddie Kaspbrak

Word Count: 4.6k

Author’s Note: Thank you to everyone who has shown this love. It makes me so happy to know people have enjoyed this. 💖

Masterlist / Part One / Part Two / Read on AO3

It didn't take you long to realize that Richie's bag and Richie's car were both missing. You didn't want to believe your brother would leave you all in the lurch, but all signs pointed to Richie fleeing town.

You were pacing in the foyer, cursing out your brother, when Ben stalled you by stepping into your path. He put his hands on your shoulders and ducked his head to meet your gaze. "It's going to be okay, Y/N," he promised. "Even if Richie left, it's going to be okay."

"I can't believe that fucking dickwad just left me like that," you heard Eddie seethe as he descended the stairs. "I mean us," he quickly amended with a pained grimace.

"Let's just get to the library," Beverly said as she joined the rest of you. "Maybe we'll get lucky and Richie will be there."

Thankfully, Beverly was right. Richie was at the library with Mike, but your brother had also apparently killed Henry Bowers in an effort to save Mike.

You listened to Mike explain what happened as he let Ben take care of the cut on his arm. You noticed Eddie and Richie seemingly consoling each other near the card catalogue, an expression of fury on Richie’s face as he considered the bandage on Eddie's cheek. From the way he kept eyeing Henry's body, you were half-sure he was wishing he could kill the deranged man all over again just for harming Eddie.

"Where's Bill?" You heard Mike ask as he pulled his bandaged arm towards himself.

"I don't know," Beverly admitted with a sigh. "We should have heard from him by now."

Mike carefully pulled his cell phone free from the front pocket of his jeans and called Bill. You listened as Mike tried to talk to Bill, his expression growing increasingly worried as he listened to whatever Bill was telling him.

You had a sinking feeling in your gut that told you whatever Bill was doing now wasn't good. When Mike hung up the phone and confirmed that Bill was about to attempt to kill Pennywise all by himself, you knew that the final battle was fast approaching whether you wanted it to or not.

Once it was concluded that Bill would be going to Neibolt to confront Pennywise, you all decided to meet him there.

You were relieved when you got to the house and noticed that Bill had yet to go inside.

"Hey," you heard Mike call to get Bill's attention.

"Wh-what are you guys doing here?" Bill asked when he turned to look at the rest of you. "You shouldn't b-be here."

"We couldn't let you do this alone, Bill," Beverly told him.

"Yeah, man," you heard Eddie agree. "Losers stick together."

"But you're all cursed because of me," Bill insisted. "That summer was m-my fault because I made you all go out to the Barrens with me lookin' for Georgie. I can't ask you all to do this."

"Just face it, Denbrough," you started with a smirk on your face that you hoped was covering up the anxiety you felt coursing through you. "You're stuck with us. It’s all of us or none of us."

“Is it too late to vote for none of us?” You heard Richie mutter from beside you. You discreetly elbowed him in the side, ignoring his pained grunt.

Bill looked like he wanted to argue for a moment before he seemed to realize that none of you actually had any intention of letting him storm Neibolt House alone.

By the time you made it down into the caverns beneath Neibolt, you felt like you had already lived through dozens of nightmares.

Between trying to help Bill pry the spider disguised as Stan's head off of Richie and listening to Ben's screams coming from rooms away and Beverly getting attacked and nearly drowned, you were starting to wonder if you would ever be allowed to complete the Ritual of Chüd. You were half-sure Pennywise would end up killing you all first.

As you were throwing your token into the fire, you felt a wary anticipation start to overcome you. If this worked, then Pennywise would be gone forever. If this didn't work, then all of you would die horrible, violent deaths.

You noticed a brief, sad smile flit across Ben's face before he threw his token into the fire. He glanced first to Beverly before his eyes met yours where you were standing opposite him. He gifted you with a sincere smile before he turned his attention towards where Richie was sacrificing an arcade token.

You had a moment where you began to wonder if this was even real before you joined hands with Richie and Bill and listened to Mike speak about the ritual.

As the deadlights descended and you started to chant with the group, you started to let yourself truly believe that this could be the end. If the ritual worked, then Pennywise would be gone. You wanted that more than anything, so you said each word with increasing conviction, hoping it would be enough to put Pennywise away for good.

"Turn light into dark. Turn light into dark. Turn light into dark," you kept saying over and over, believing that it would be enough.

It had to be enough.

Of course it wasn't enough.

When the ritual quite literally blew up in your faces, you knew that every hope you had of defeating Pennywise was nearly gone. You didn't know if there was anything else that would work, but your only way to survive once he attacked was to run. Pennywise had transformed himself into a giant spider that was big enough to nearly fill the cavern. There was no way you could possibly fight that and hope to survive.

Mike seemed to be overwhelmed with guilt after Pennywise pressured him to admit that he had left one important detail out of his explanations regarding the ritual. The first and only group to attempt the Ritual of Chüd had all been killed because they couldn’t succeed. Mike had assumed that if you all just believed hard enough, then you would be able to kill It. You heard him apologizing profusely as you dodged a swipe from one of Pennywise’s legs.

You ended up getting split up from the others. Richie and Eddie disappeared into one cave while Ben and Beverly retreated into another. You were about to bolt after Eddie and Richie, since it seemed like your only possible escape that didn't take you right past the killer clown and spider hybrid, but Pennywise had other plans for you.

You felt something heavy slam into your back before you went flying. You barely had a moment to pull your arms in close to your body in an attempt to not break them on the rocks before you felt yourself hit the ground hard enough to knock the breath out of you. Your momentum carried you down an opening in the cavern's walls and right through a hole. You felt the odd sensation like you were flying for a moment before you landed on something soft.

You didn’t even realize that had you closed your eyes during the fall, but once you opened them, you weren't entirely convinced that you were actually awake.

"No," you whispered when you were met with the sight of your childhood bedroom. You had spent many nights in this room feeling like you were helpless against the lingering shadows on the walls. There were the nights when you swore there was someone standing at the foot of your bed and watching you in the dark. Sometimes the voice belonged to Pennywise and sometimes it was a wheezing, groaning croak that reminded you of every zombie movie you had watched with Richie after he dared you not to get scared.

You willed yourself to move, but it felt like you were paralyzed with fear. You felt the sheets wrap around your ankles and wrists, anchoring you to the bed.

"Look what you did to me," you heard a voice rasp from near the foot of the bed. You caught sight of curly hair and torn clothes. A hand reached out towards you, the skin mottled with decay. "You did this to me, Y/N."

"No," you whispered again, silently pleading with whatever deity was listening to get you out of this.

"Look at me," Stan snapped as he took a step closer to you, gifting you with a better view of him.

You closed your eyes and resolutely shook your head. You felt fingers dig into your chin before your head was jerked sharply to the side.

"Look at me. Look at what you did to me," Stan commanded with a conviction that was strong enough that you almost couldn't help but open your eyes in obedience. "You know what's going to happen to them now. They're going to end up like me. And it's all your fault," Stan spat before he offered you a sickly grin that had you attempting to pull your chin out of his hold.

His nails dug into your skin and you could feel yourself begin to bleed from where he was cutting into your skin. You struggled against your bonds, a panic beginning to overwhelm you. You had felt trapped for years with the certainty that you might be subjecting your loved ones to their final demise and now Pennywise was playing that scenario out for you in the cruelest way possible.

"No, no, no," you denied as you kept struggling for freedom. "I didn't mean to. I didn't want you to die, Stan," you cried.

"You did this to me. To us," Stan snarled before he pulled away. He gestured towards the floor where you could make out the sight of several bodies. "You shouldn't have called us here. You've killed us all."

"NO!" You screamed when the first body pulled itself off the floor. You saw the glasses and dark hair and knew immediately that it must be Richie. You couldn't hold back the sob that fought its way free at the sight of the torn and bloody visage of your brother. His eyes were clouded over and his neck had been torn out.

It wasn't long before the other members of the Losers' Club rose from the floor and started advancing on you. You could hear their hungry, ravenous moans as their hands all stretched out towards you. You could just imagine what it would feel like as they tore into your flesh and you hurried to free yourself from the bed. You twisted and writhed and finally managed to free one of your hands.

You could feel nails scraping down your leg and you bit back a cry of pain. You weren't going to give Pennywise the satisfaction of hearing that his torture was working. You could feel blood running from the cuts and pooling onto the bed below you before you finally managed to break free.

There was a door on the other side of the room that you were desperate to reach, but it would take you right through the undead members of the Losers' Club.

"Fuck," you hissed, before you decided to try your chances. You bolted over the bed and pushed past the clawing hands and sound of clicking teeth as more than one of the members tried to take a bite out of you. By the time you made it to the door, one of your sleeves had been ripped away and you had deep scratches down your arms and along your torso. You were also pretty sure someone had gotten a lucky bite in, because your shoulder was burning and aching in a way that was nearly enough to distract you from your escape attempt.

You didn't even bother looking back as you opened the door and fell through it right into the cavern you had left behind what felt like years ago.

You only had a moment to notice the bright light filling the cave and the sight of Richie caught in the deadlights before you were taking off across the cavern. The image of the reanimated corpses of the Losers' Club was still fresh in your mind as you watched Eddie attempt to save Richie by spearing Pennywise through the head with the broken piece of fence Beverly had picked up earlier that night to use as a weapon.

You pulled to a stop not far from the pair when you realized that Eddie was exclaiming that he had saved Richie. You were keeping a wary eye on Pennywise, but you still managed to catch sight of Eddie leaning down and kissing Richie.

You were stunned for a moment, ridiculously happy for your brother and Eddie even if it was the wrong moment to get carried away, before you noticed Pennywise shake off the hit from Eddie. You had a moment to see Pennywise's grin just before he moved to strike. You barely had to think about it as you took off towards the pair, managing to tackle Eddie just before he would have been skewered through his chest with Pennywise's claw.

You thought for a moment that you had managed to save Eddie without any consequences, but it didn't take long for the searing pain in your shoulder to make itself known. You felt like there was something hooked right beneath your clavicle before you were pulled back and flung across the cavern. You hit the ground with a sharp crack, crying out when you rolled right into the cavern wall. You felt like you had a hole in your shoulder, but that couldn't be right. The blood that was steadily pooling beneath you argued otherwise.

You realized that you might have saved Eddie, but you sacrificed yourself to do it.

Your vision went hazy for a moment before you heard someone calling your name. There were hands on you and for a dizzying moment you thought it was the zombified members of the Losers' Club coming back to finish the job. You kicked out at someone before the words began to register.

"Fucking fuck, Y/N! That was my nose!" Richie yelled as he attempted to help Ben pick you up off the ground.

"It's okay," you heard Beverly assure you. "You're okay."

"Don't die, Y/N," Eddie pleaded as he helped the others carry you into a cave where Pennywise wouldn't be able to readily reach you.

"Eds," you croaked as you struggled to hold onto consciousness. You reached out to grab his hand, holding it as tight as you could. "Worth it," you assured him with a grin that probably looked half-crazed as you did your best to stay awake and aware.

"Fu-fuck! Fuck!" You heard Bill shout as he joined the others. "That's a lot of blood."

"Hey, Y/N," Mike whispered. "You need to stay with us. We can't do this without you."

You felt something press into your shoulder and you couldn't hold back the scream that clawed its way free of your throat. You felt the sharp agony as Ben tried to keep pressure on your wound, having sacrificed his overshirt to try to keep you from bleeding out.

"Just stay with me, Y/N," you heard Ben murmur. "Don't leave me. Mike's right, you know? We can't do this without you. I can't do this without you. I need you, so you’ve got to stick around."

You managed to suck in a shuddering, pained breath as you met his eyes. You knew you were fast losing the battle to stay awake and you weren't really sure if you were going to make it out of the cavern. Your blood was quickly soaking Ben’s overshirt and the pain started to recede as an alarming numbness began to overtake you.

You could hear Pennywise taunting you and the other Losers, but all you could really focus on at that moment was Ben.

You saw Ben bite his lip, looking unsure for a moment, before he brought his hands up and cupped your face in them. He leaned forward and brushed his lips against yours, prompting you to bring up the arm that currently didn’t feel like it was about to fall off to grab a fistful of his t-shirt and reel him in even closer. He felt like your only anchor to consciousness at that moment and you were reluctant to let him go.

"Ugh, my sister, man? Seriously? Didn't you have the hots for Bev?" You heard Richie wonder with a tone that warred between disgust and exasperation.

"Beep beep, Richie," you heard Beverly mutter.

When you felt like you were struggling to breathe, you carefully pushed Ben away. "I'm sorry, Ben Handsome" you whispered before you felt your eyelids droop.

"No, Y/N, stay awake," you heard Ben urge.

"Is she dead? What's going on?"

"Fuck! This can’t be fucking happening."

"No, come on, Y/N. Don't do this."

Awareness stayed with you in little bits and pieces. You could hear Pennywise roaring and the others yelling, but they now sounded far away. You could hear something rumbling before your body began to shake. It took you a really long time to realize that you weren't shaking, but the cave around you was as it started to collapse. There was the unmistakable sound of rocks clattering down to the floor and then more shouting.

You felt trembling fingers on your neck and others wrapped around your wrist. There were hands under your knees and someone pulling you to stand. You felt weightless for a moment and for one brief, disorienting moment you thought you were flying.

You felt hands on you again and voices drifting across you, but before you could shout or try to avoid the reach of the undead, you finally allowed the darkness threatening to overwhelm you to fully embrace you.

You didn't really think you were dead. You still felt and heard and experienced. There were flashing lights that had you wishing you could close your eyes, even though they were already closed. There was the prick of the needle as it slid into your arm and a warm voice talking just above you.

"We'll have to bring her in for surgery now. I'm sorry, but you have to stay in the waiting room."

"But that's my sister," you heard Richie exclaim. "What the fuck do you mean I have to stay out here?"

There was something cold rushing through your veins and a metallic taste in your mouth. There was the drifting awareness and then nothing.

You jolted awake, your eyes flying open as you attempted to take better stock of your surroundings.

"Holy shit, you're awake," you heard Richie mumble from your side. You glanced over to see that he was rubbing at his eyes just under the rims of his glasses. He looked exhausted, but there was a delighted, relieved grin on his face that had you automatically smiling back at him in answer.

You wanted to ask him what the fuck was going on, but he was suddenly out of his chair and striding over towards the door.

"Hey, guys! She's finally awake!" You heard Richie yell before he was stepping out of your room.

You barely had a moment to realize you were in a hospital room before the rest of the Losers' Club filed into the room.

"I'm glad you're okay, Y/N," Bill said as he came to stand beside your bed.

"Yeah, you had us all really scared for a while there," Beverly chimed in as she reached out for your hand. She squeezed your hand and offered you a reassuring smile.

"Move," Richie commanded as he brushed past Bill and Beverly. "Don't you ever fucking do that to me again, you got it?” Richie admonished you as he pointed his finger right in your face, as if he was scolding a child and not his twin sister. “I just fucking got you back and I'm not about to let you die because of some stupid, fuckin' clown."

"Pennywise," you breathed, startled to finally remember the clown that had terrorized you all for so long and the recent events that took place in the caverns beneath Neibolt House. "What happened? Is he dead?"

"He's dead," Mike confirmed with a nod of his head. You turned your head and met his eyes where he was standing at the foot of your bed. "We did it."

"I'm so sorry, Y/N," Eddie piped up as he moved to stand at Richie's side. You didn't fail to notice the way Richie's hand immediately reached for Eddie's, their fingers lacing together as Eddie crowded further into Richie's side. “I feel like you almost died because of me.”

"I meant what I said," you told him with a small smile. "It would have been worth it."

"Y/N," you heard from the doorway of your hospital room.

You looked over to see Ben standing there, an expression of stark relief clear on his face.

"Why don't we give them a moment," Beverly suggested as she reached out to start steering Richie and Eddie away.

"Hey, that's my sister!" Richie protested, before he seemed to relent when Beverly whispered something to him. "I'm watching you," Richie promised Ben before he let himself be led out of the room by the rest of the Losers.

Ben came to sit down at your bedside once it was just the two of you left in the room.

"Do you, uh, do you remember anything? From before you passed out?" He wasn't quite meeting your eyes, but there was an awkward shyness that seemed so familiar that you couldn't help but grin at him.

"I remember trying to save Eddie," you muttered before your brows furrowed as you attempted to remember more. "There was a lot of pain. I think I lost a lot of blood," you said as you frowned down at the bandages you could see covering your shoulder. "I remember you," you confessed with a softer smile as memories became clearer. "And a kiss," you whispered before Ben finally met your gaze. "Did you mean it? Or was it only because I was bleeding out?"

"I meant it," Ben rushed to reassure you before he hesitantly reached out to take your hand. "I meant it," he whispered as he let his thumb sweep over the back of your hand. "And I have a proposition for you if you're open to it."

You quirked an eyebrow at him, not able to fight off the smirk you felt tugging at your lips. "While I'm still in a hospital bed? Ben Handsome, I didn't know you were that eager to seduce me."

You noticed the blush that bloomed on Ben's cheeks before he shot you an amused grin. "Not that kind of proposition," he remarked with a fond expression and shake of his head. "I was thinking about what you'd do now that Pennywise is gone."

"Oh," you breathed in understanding. You honestly had never thought of what you would do once you were free to leave Derry. All of your plans boiled down to just that. Leave. But you didn't know what you would do once you stepped foot outside the town for the first time. "What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that I'm overdue for a vacation and you're probably eager to get out of Derry. You've been stuck here for so long and I know you've got to heal and probably some physical therapy, but we can go anywhere you'd like. It's your choice, but if you'll have me, I want to explore the world with you." He took a deep breath, as if steeling himself for a possible rejection. "So, where would you like to go?"

You were stunned for a moment with the realization that whatever was forming between you and Ben wasn't just going to be relegated to Derry and near-death experiences. Ben was actually serious about this. Serious about you. And while it seemed a bit sudden and you were sure there was so much left to discuss, you couldn’t help but feel excited by the idea that he wanted to see you and spend time with you and take you far away from the town that housed all your nightmares.

You felt a grin slowly stretch across your face before you squeezed his hand. "I've got the perfect idea."

Later, nearly a week after Pennywise's demise, you joined the other members of the Losers' Club at Jade of the Orient for dinner. You were surprised that you were all allowed back after the property damage from your last dinner, but you were given another private room to hold your meeting of the Losers’ Club.

This dinner was a complete turnaround from the first one, however. Just a week before, you were all talking about what you had spent the past twenty-seven years doing. It was rife with news of divorce, separation, and uncertainty. It was tainted by the knowledge that Pennywise was back and wreaking havoc on Derry yet again. What should have been a nice reunion was overshadowed by the hauntings of your pasts and the tragedy that was soon to follow.

Now, you were all looking forward to whatever the future held in store, because you all realized that you actually had a future to experience. There was no more uncertainty and no more monsters to fight. You were allowed to live now without the specter of Pennywise hanging over you all.

Ben kept a firm grip on your hand through most of the dinner, as if he had to remind himself that you were really there and alive after suffering a near-fatal injury. Richie and Eddie were just as obnoxious as ever, but Eddie had taken it upon himself to kiss Richie whenever he wanted him to shut up. By the stunned and cautiously delighted look on Richie's face every time it happened, he didn't mind.

Everyone seemed eager to discuss their plans for the next few months. It seemed that Richie still planned to finish out his tour and Eddie was going to go with him. Mike claimed that he wanted to finally check out Florida after being stuck in Maine for so long. Bill said he had a movie to finish and a new book to write. Beverly told you all that now that so much of her past had become clear to her, she wanted to figure out who she really was. She wanted to strike out on her own and learn how to depend on herself, but from the few, brief glances she shared with Bill, you started to wonder if there was more going on there than they had shared with the group.

By the time you were finished with your food and waiting on the check, you felt lighter than you had in decades. With Ben at your side and the knowledge that Pennywise was no longer a threat, you felt like your future was open to you for the first time in your life.

You heard Bill clear his throat before he raised his glass. "To the Losers' Club," he said with a fond grin on his face. "To finally defeating Pennywise," he continued with a glance at each of you around the table. "And most important, to Stan," he finished.

"To Stan," you all joined in, raising your glasses in a toast to your fallen friend, before you all took a drink.

"To Stan," you repeated with a sad smile as you thought of the friend who should have been sharing this victory with all of you. You wished more than anything that he was there to see the nightmare finally laid to rest.

But you couldn't help but hope that he knew somehow that you and the Losers' Club hadn't let him down. You had defeated Pennywise once and for all and the townspeople of Derry were finally safe from a threat they weren't even aware of after so many decades of suffering.

And now, you were finally free to live your life.

#it 2019 #it: chapter two #ben handscom #richie tozier #ben hanscom x reader #richie tozier & reader #richie tozier x eddie kaspbrak #reader insert #it #it imagine #the losers club #the losers x reader #canon divergence #reader #flashing gif #horror

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yougivemebutterfliessss · 3 years

Note

We gonna ignore the fact that ghostie isn’t my main account but 150 :)

-saarah

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @ghostiewriter 🥳🥳🥳 ur old now congratulations. So you though could stump me with this vague prompt “make up your own” IM SORRY OKAY I thought giving something vague for Christmas prompts would make it EASIER. Anywho I have a secret weapon and her name Annie. Big shout out to @yellowlaboratory for turning my traumatic story of puking in a school bathroom during a track meet into a hilarious fic idea; please enjoy this unedited 🙈crack Drabble akdhsjdhsjdh

“You want me to call your priest?”

Track had always been a JJ and Kie thing. In sixth grade she’d decided they need to keep active during the winter and that indoor track would be the perfect way to do it. Not only was it during the months where there was no surfing, but it was a sport she could actually do with her boys. She just needed to convince them to do it. Pope was an immediate no, too much homework and John B was insistent on trying out for the basketball team, his dad used to play or something. Which left JJ, who for whatever reason picked joining track with her over joining basketball with John B. She always figured it was because he thought she needed him more, seeing as John B could make friends with just about anyone. Or maybe she was overthinking it and JJ just thought that track sounded more fun; either way, she’s glad he did.

They had long bus rides together, traveling to the mainland so they could meet up with other schools, spend the whole ride there laughing and joking and talking about nothing in particular. She snuck extra snacks into her lunch box so that she could share with JJ, forcing him to eat “healthy shit” like apples and granola bars. (she was quite pleased with herself for that one) They would normally fall asleep on the way back, wake up half on top of each other and not talk about it afterward. She would aggressively snap, “No” when people asked if they like each other and JJ would just grin widely like it was the funniest joke in the world.

He was annoyingly good too, at pretty much everything. If the coaches were down a person they could just throw JJ into that event with a little bit of practice and chances are he would at least place. He was mainly a sprinter and a jumper though, same as Kie. A lot of her favorite memories came from the three years they ran track together. In eighth grade however, things got more complicated because suddenly Kie also had to deal with her period.

She wasn’t one to let that hold her back, but long track meets after school definitely made things more difficult, but it was manageable. Until of course, it wasn’t, which long story short, led to Kie being doubled over on the gross floor of another school's bathroom feeling like someone was digging a knife through her lower abdomen and hoping she doesn’t start puking again. She wasn’t sure how long it took for JJ to find her, walking with his hands over his eyes, judging by the sound of him running into a stall door.

“Yo Kie, you in here?”

“Down here,” she groaned from her spot on the floor not wanting to shift from her position to face, any movement at all made her feel nauseous.

His eyes widened as he crouched down beside her, “Wow, shit. You okay?”

“Do I really have to answer that question?” She muttered with an eye roll, but even that felt weak.

“Right sorry. So did you like catch a bug or somethin?” He asked, backing away from her like she might be contagious.

The last thing Kiara felt like doing at the time was explaining the nuisances of period cramps to a thirteen year old boy so she just muttered, “girl stuff,” and the movement was enough to have her heaving into the toilet again.

“Holy shit,” JJ muttered softly, sounded shocked for reasons Kiara was in too much pain to care about.

“Are you pregnant?”

Kiara choked on her puke, managed to turn her head enough to face him.

“What?”

JJ ran a hand through his hair anxiously, not even seeming to have heard her, talking mostly to himself as he mumbled, “I’m not ready to be a dad.”

“We haven’t slept together you idiot.”

JJ’s went wide with realization. “You slept with someone else,” he exclaimed with what almost sounded like betrayal in his voice.

Kiara didn’t have time to respond before the aggravation at his absolute idiocy had her hanging over the toilet boil again. JJ shifted down so he was squatted beside her, held her hair back as he rambled on.

“So who's is it? No- no you don’t have to tell me that, I don’t even care who’s sperm it is I’m here for you Kie. He’ll be like my kid anyway. Or she. Duh.”

Kiara squeezed her eyes shut in disbelief, didn’t have the energy to turn her head to him as she hissed out, “JJ.”

He raised his hands in surrender, “Okay, okay, I get it, too much,” then added hopefully “I'll still be uncle JJ though right?”

“It’s no one's sperm you dipshit!” She cried, momentarily forgetting the pain in her abdomen as she turned to him.

JJ just blinked at her for a few seconds before responding with a dramatic gasp, a small spark in his eyes as he whispered, “Virgin Mary?”

Kiara groaned in disbelief, pulled her arms up to the toilet boil and rested her head on them, too exasusted to care about the unsanitariness of the situation.

“Does this mean I’m gonna be Jesus’ uncle?”

“JJ if you don’t shut the fuck up right now the next time I puke it’s gonna be on you.”

He backed up immediately, “okay okay point taken. I mean come on that one was kinda funny though.”

She didn’t look up, but she could easily picture the smirk on his face.

“Can you please do something helpful and go call my dad? I left my phone in my bag.”

JJ perked up at that, jumping to his feet. “Right, I’ll be right back, I’ll let the coaches know you’re puking too. Oh and do you want a water? Gatorade? Maybe Pepsi?”

“Water’s good.”

He was sprinting away before she could say thank you. Kie curled up on the floor, giving about zero shits about how dirty it was, anything to make her stomach hurt a little bit less.

JJ returned a few minutes later with water and her phone in hand. Announced, “Kie I can’t find your dad’s contact,” as he handed her the water.

She groaned inwardly for thinking she was funny when she made her dad’s name in her phone.

“Oh uh call Father Mike.”

JJ looked up at that. “You want me to call your priest?”

“No that’s my dad,” she responded with a sigh.

“Your dad’s a priest?”

She sat up and opened her mouth to respond but the movement sent another wave of nausea over her and she found herself back above the toilet boil.

“Should I start confessing my sins before or after you finish puking?”

Kiara fixes him with a glare as she pulls away. “It’s a joke. He put his dad in his phone as Father Joe so I put him in as Father Mike. It’s like imagine there was a comma, like ‘Father, Mike’.”

JJ furrowed his eyebrows as he considered that beforing saying. “You really should add the comma. It’s very misleading.”

“Can you just call him?” She asked, her voice almost pleading at this point.

JJ’s joking tone shifted at that, “right. Yeah of course.”

After that she felt well enough to let JJ help her back to their teams set up in the track building, where she could lie down on blankets instead of a cold floor. JJ still had races and events to do, but he ran back to check on her after every one and each time she would assure him that she was fine and that she didn't need a babysitter, but secretly appreciated how concerned he was. And in hindsight, the Jesus jokes were kinda funny, at least Pope and John B thought they were.

#jiara #jiara Drabble #prompt #jiara prompt #HAPPY BIRTHDAY NESSIE #CONGRATS UR OLD #GO HAVE A DRINK FOR ME #Saarah is an absolute powerhouse #the talent #the absolute inhuman speed #and a great friend #💖💖💖#also yes this actually happened #but my friend wasn’t a cute blond and she did not think I was pregnant lol

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consumedkings-archive · 3 years

Note

a kiss after a long time apart + misolde xoxo

hi dove thanks so much for letting me consume my day with thoughts of Them : )) this went long but mostly because these two don’t know how to shut the fuck up !!! and thank you for making this gorgeous header for me with our little dark comedy sitcom vibes ;--;

i. parental disaster ✤ michael hughes x isolde khan

words: 3.2k

prompt: “a kiss after a long time apart” taken from this list!

rating: mature, nothing explicit just some teasing insinuations

warnings: pretty much none! the biggest warning is the fact that somehow these two manage to ever keep their clothes on for anything. also softness, and isolde’s parents being nosy, and soli being in her feelings for .0000005 seconds

It shouldn’t be bothering her so much that he isn’t answering her calls.

It shouldn’t be, but it is, because while her parents chatter happily in her living room, she’s been trying to figure out how she can give Michael some kind of warning before he drops by. He always does, when he’s been gone for a while; comes straight from the airport to her house, sauntering in like he isn’t suffering severe jet lag, with that boyish smile on his face.

Of course, her parent’s arrival isn’t unannounced. Isolde had just—forgotten. Which is unlike her, in every sense of the word, unlike her in so many ways but no matter which way she looks at it, the fact of the matter is: her parents told her they were coming to visit, she had confirmed, and then promptly forgotten about it.

Isolde has a glass of wine in her hand that’s mostly untouched when, over the sound of music playing and pleasant chitchat, a car door closes and her mother says, “Oh, is that Michael?” with such warm surprise that it’s astounding Isolde doesn’t about fall over herself trying to get up from the couch.

A warning. He just needs a fair warning, is all, so that he’s not stressed out, since they hadn’t talked about it at all. That’s all. She’s not worried. That would be silly.

By the time she’s set her wine glass down and is picking her way through the tangle of family’s suitcases, Michael has already swept through the door and announces, “Honey, I’m—oh.”

He slows in the foyer, his gaze darting from her to the family members she’s collected in her living room: her younger sister, her father, and her mother. Michael clears his throat and shifts on his feet, the jovial expression quickly muting itself into what she can only imagine is his best fast-paced attempt at professional.

Avery chirps from the floor, “Hi, Mike!” and he waves—or does his best, anyway, when it seems like his brain is trying to calculate too many things at one time.

“Michael,” and she’s hurrying, her own frantic energy translating into a gesture that is only hands fluttering aimlessly, unsure where to land, “my parents are here. My dad, Basir, and my mother, Isla, and—well, you know Avery already, uh—”

“That’s cool,” Michael replies, and then closes his eyes for a minute like he regrets the words instantly. “I mean—that’s great, Soli, I would have showered first or somethin’, if—it’s really nice to meet you—”

“It’s okay, really,” Basir assures quickly. “We’re not worried about it. Isolde said you were away on business. We just got in a few hours ago ourselves.”

Her dad says it like that’s supposed to be comforting, or something, which she knows it isn’t because both her mother and father look perfectly pressed and as though they have been there for days already.

She can see the gears grinding laboriously in his brain, so she says, “I’m going to help him bring his things in,” and then promptly turns Mike around and pushes him into the kitchen. Too late, she thinks, they know his shit isn’t in the kitchen, but she’s already committed to their path, and the sliding door separating the kitchen and the living room will afford them some privacy.

This isn’t the way that she wants this to happen. She’d wanted plenty of time to prepare—calculated risks only, the kind that she’s sure she’s going to win because there’s no way she won’t. It’s not even a matter of being worried that her parents will like Michael; they will, of course. It’s a matter of him liking them.

And maybe a little about them liking him.

“I tried calling,” she says, once the door is closed, “I tried calling like—eight times, Michael—”

“I was on a plane!” It’s not anger hiking up his voice, it’s distress; he’s rummaging around in the cabinet, looking for something to calm his nerves. “And you know I like to just drive—”

“Straight here, I know.” She opens a different cabinet than the one he’s digging through and plants the bottle of whiskey he keeps there in his hand. It’s quickly followed by a glass to put it in, though she’s sure he’s considering the logistics of just drinking it directly from the bottle. “And you don’t check your phone because you’ve been working for weeks straight. Anyway, they’re only here for a few days, and they’re very excited to meet you.”

Michael makes a miserable little noise around a mouthful of whiskey. Fingers rake through his hair, tousling it all out of place as he stands in the middle of the kitchen looking entirely out of place. His brows furrow, and he presses his palm to his forehead like he’s trying to focus. “Okay, alright, uh—your dad is Basir, your mom is Isla, dad’s a diplomat and mom’s a professor of...P-...Uhh...Fuck, it’s—you’ve told me before, I know what it is—”

“Michael.”

“—does start with a p, right? There can’t be that many degrees that—”

“Mikey.”

“Yeah.”

Isolde cups both sides of his face in her hands. “It’s not the SATs, you don’t need to have an essay answer ready.” She takes the glass out of his hand and takes a swallow. “Also, it’s political science and psychology.”

“Oh,” he replies dryly, “if that’s all.”

“She also sometimes does independent studies for comparative world religions, or Latin, if there’s enough interest. She’s vegetarian, and my dad is not. He prefers whiskey over any clear liquor and my mom only drinks wine, except on special occasions.”

He watches her for a moment, the corner of his mouth ticking upward. “You wanna keep that glass? Sounds like you might need it more than me,” he prompts, and she finds herself smiling in spite of the way things could not have gone any less than she planned it.

“You were gone for longer than usual,” she says by way of avoiding acknowledging her stress. There’s a bit of a pout in her voice, and she busies her hands with pouring more alcohol into the glass so that she doesn’t sound so pathetic when she adds, “I missed you.”

“You did?” His voice bleeds with amusement, the cat that ate the canary, as he noses her cheek. “Isolde missed me? Tried and true reptilian ice queen—”

“You know what? They can have you back.”

Michael flashes a grin at her. He’s sidled close, crowded her up pleasantly against the counter. “I missed you too.”

He’s close. Not as close as she’d like—their ritual of shucking his clothes the second he walks through her door after a long business trip so that she can drag him straight into the shower foregone in lieu of their guests—but close enough that when his nose brushes hers, she’s reminded that she hasn’t had the chance to kiss him in quite some time.

But when Michael leans in to kiss her, she tilts her head back, just out of his reach.

“How much,” she idles, their company forgotten, “did you miss me?”

“I had plans to show you,” he replies lowly, “you know, before I found out I’d have to behave.”

“You always have to behave.”

“When it’s so fun to have you scold me?” He tilts his head. “C’mon, doll, you know me better than that.”

Isolde’s eyes narrow playfully, and when she opens her mouth to respond the only thing stopping her from reminding him what happens when he decides to inspire a scolding out of her is the sound of the sliding door creeping open and her dad’s tentative voice.

“Soli?” His voice is light, coddling. “If now’s a bad time, you know you can tell us. We won’t mind.”

Oh, right. That.

“No, daddy, it’s fine,” she replies instantly, turning as Michael disengages from her to fetch another glass out of the cabinet. “I was just—”

“Debriefing,” Basir interjects, not unkindly, because he knows her. A smile crinkles the corner of his eyes, the gesture warming his expression. “Your mother is wondering if Michael needs help finding his bags in the kitchen.”

“Oh, we’ll get those later.” Isolde takes the last swallow of whiskey out of the glass she’s commandeered from Michael. “Out in a minute, just making a drink.”

“Should I give your mother your wine, then?”

“She’ll get more use of it than I will.”

He waves his hand, sliding the door shut again, and Michael sets his new glass next to hers.

“He seems nice,” is what he offers after a minute.

“He is nice,” Sol agrees, reaching up and patting Michael’s shoulder. “And you’re going to have ample opportunity to experience it for yourself.”

He grimaces—surely, in anxiety and not in detesting the incoming interaction—and presses a quick kiss to her temple.

“I can’t wait.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

All in all, it goes well.

Of course it goes well. Isolde knows that it will—even if the abrupt way the whole meeting has come about is enough to make her want to rip her hair out—but it’s still a comfort to watch it play out; Michael sitting on the couch close to her as she tucks her knees up beneath her on the floor and goads her father into playing her in a game of chess, Avery watching from the sidelines and her mother surveying with the same kind of amused, watchful gaze that she always does.

Isla asks Michael a lot of questions. She asks about his family, pleasantly gliding over it when it seems like he doesn’t want to express a lot about that particular subject, and what he does for work—another subject that he manages to delicately step through—and does he like living in Hope County? It’s very beautiful, has he ever wanted to live anywhere? Does he travel often for work? Is he an only child? Does he want children of his own?

“Mother,” Isolde scolds, pushing the black bishop into place. “Please do not interrogate Michael about if he wants to procreate with me or not.”

“Not you particularly,” her mother defends, “but just in general.”

“It’s important to know.” Basir frowns, watching as Isolde dispatches of his rook. “You should always be on the same page, you know.”

“Perhaps you should focus on this page we’re on now, before I checkmate you.”

He grumbles and takes a sip of his drink. Absently, Isolde reaches up behind her, fingers affectionately finding Michael’s as she studies the board.

“So,” Isla continues sweetly, “children?”

“Michael,” Isolde says, “you don’t have to answer.”

“I don’t mind,” he laughs, and when she looks at him over her shoulder with a scrutinizing gaze, he lifts his eyebrows. “I don’t mind.”

“Fine.”

“I don’t have a set number,” Michael allows, his fingers tangled with hers as she preoccupies herself with the chessboard. “I always think I’d be happiest with whatever my partner wants.”

“Good boy,” Basir praises, beaming. He waves a finger “You can always negotiate for a different number, but not if you try and set it in stone.”

Isolde sighs. “We will not be negotiating for children.”

“Why not? It could be fun.”

“You could make it a game,” Avery suggests, pulling the throw blanket more securely around her shoulders. “Soli picks the number, Michael coerces and negotiates.”

A laugh billows out of Mike behind her, and he says, “Nah, that’s too easy. I’d get whatever I wanted. Wouldn’t be any game.”

Isolde makes an indignant sound. It’s all play, because it’s cute that Michael thinks he can get whatever he wants when he wants it (and maybe there is a bit of truth to those words, but he doesn’t need to know the extent of his own power just yet). She squints at him.

“I’ve made men cry before, you know.” Michael mmhms at her. “Lots of men.”

“And I think that,” he agrees, giving her shoulder a little squeeze “is very attractive.”

“That’s what you want, my love,” Isla chides at her, coming to a stand and taking Sol’s glass out of her hands to carry it into the kitchen for refills. “Someone who likes even the most vicious parts of you.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Later, Avery has retired to bed—buzzed from a single glass of wine, no less—and her mother is talking to her about how busy it’s been at work, but Isolde is wrapped up watching her father make big, dramatic hand gestures while he smokes outside with Michael. The scent of the clove cigarettes her father favors drift in from the screen door out to the porch, and paired with the sound of crickets chirping in the late evening, she feels a pang in her stomach; something like longing, or nostalgia, but for the moment she’s in right then and there.

Perhaps sadness, that it will come to a natural end.

Her mother’s fingers card through her hair affectionately. “You seem tired, beloved. You both do.”

“I’m sure he’s fine, he does this often,” Isolde replies, glancing away from where her father is perhaps two cigarettes deep into some story he almost certainly shouldn’t be telling Michael, flip-flopping between Turkish and English in his excitement. “Or he was, until whatever’s going on out there started happening. How does daddy manage to sit on a plane for something like nineteen hours and he’s got all that energy still?”

Her mother makes an amused noise, pressing a kiss to the top of her head and pulling herself into a stand, sighing. “He’s perpetually propelled by his love for you and your sister, I am sure.”

“That’s a nice way to say manic.”

“It’s nice seeing you happy,” her mother continues, glossing over what is only a true statement about her father’s frenetic energy. “For ourselves, I mean. It’s one thing for Avery to tell us about how happy he makes you—”

She snorts. “What a gossip.”

“—another entirely,” Isla interrupts, “to see it in real-time.” She brushes the hair away from Isolde’s face. “You were always prone to loneliness, my girl. Ever since you were a baby, you preferred it over our attention.”

The words make Isolde’s chest feel tight. Prone to loneliness is something that only her mother could say and it not be an insult, only an objective observation. Stinging harder still is the knowledge that most of the time, being around people does feel stifling to her—except with Michael.

Isla flashes her a smile and makes her way over to the screen door, sliding it open and leaning against the doorway. “Basir?”

She can see her mother’s caught her father right on the tail end, because he stops and looks at her with bright eyes. “Yes, my darling? I was telling Michael about that French ambassador who—”

“I am sure Michael would love to hear the end of the story in the morning,” her mother coaxes. “It’s late. Come to bed.”

“Oh, alright. If you don’t mind, Michael,” her father tacks on, looking back at Mike, “waiting for the end.”

Michael’s eyes flicker, meeting hers through the doorway, an easy, lopsided smile sliding onto his face. “Don’t mind at all.”

“First thing tomorrow, then. And,” Basir continues, ushering in after her mother, “I won’t keep you up anymore, darling. Come on, come on, bedtime.”

There’s more chatter like that as they exit, murmured goodnights and the aggressive bear hug from her father that comes when he’s had more than one shot of whiskey; Michael closes and locks the sliding door and makes his way to where Isolde is tucked up on the couch. As he settles in beside her, their fingers interlock on the back of the couch and she takes in a little breath.

Handsome. He’s painfully, excruciatingly handsome, maybe even more so because she just watched him weather the storm that is her parents, noisy and nosy but well-meaning. The sigh that he lets out when he’s settled on the couch makes her think that he’s finally letting a breath out he’s been holding, even though he’s got no reason to be stressed about her parents liking him.

“I like them,” he tells her. “Your dad’s funny.”

“Don’t let him hear you.” Isolde drapes her legs over his lap, setting her mostly-empty glass aside. “He’ll never stop trying out his jokes on you.”

Michael laughs and leans in to brush their noses together; he doesn’t go right for a kiss, not straight away, and there’s this little thread of anticipation that pulls on her heart when she remembers how long it’s been since she’s had a real kiss from him. Weeks. That’s something criminal, isn’t it?

“Haven’t kissed you,” she murmurs after a moment, “not proper, since you got back.”

“Well,” Michael coaxes, “what on earth are you waitin’ for, then?”

“Thought maybe you’d want to use your negotiation skills for more than a kiss.”

The brunette grins, leaning in the rest of the way to close the distance between them and kiss her; at last, at last, something inside of her says, relieved to have him there at last, and she reaches up with her free hand to tangle her fingers in his hair and keep him there.

There’s no rush to it. It’s an unhurried, leisurely re-mapping, re-familiarizing, though she hasn’t forgotten and neither has he. Isolde kisses him like he’s been gone for weeks and that he’s not ever going to leave for that long again, which isn’t true—but she can pretend, for a little while, that it is.

And it’s a little alarming, how her chest aches when she realizes how long he’s been gone, how much she’s missed having him around, how much she—

“I feel like,” he says against her mouth, between what are now sparse liplocks peppering his words, “maybe I don’t have to negotiate for more—”

“Michael,” Isolde hums sweetly, “shut up.”

“Boy, but you’re sexy when you boss me around.”

“I’m about to get a lot sexier if you don’t start kissing me like you mean it.”

He pulls back, that little smile still on his face, his arm sliding around her midsection to pull her more comfortably against him. But he doesn’t go back to kissing her; he trails his mouth along the slope of her jaw, and kisses the hollow below her ear before he says, “I always mean it when I kiss you, Soli.”

Oh, no, she thinks, her throat feeling tight. She’s not going to cry, that would be fucking stupid, and she’d rather fucking die before she lets Michael see a tear slip out of her—but it’s the same kind of feeling, the overwhelmingly bittersweet feeling knowing that this moment is going to end and she’ll have to remind herself of it, later.

“I know,” she replies, softer this time when she kisses him. “Now stop ruining the moment with your sappiness and pitch your deal to me already.”

“Alright,” Michael puffs, “three kids, get started on the first one now—”

She groans, but not without affection, and he hauls her up into his arms bridal style to begin carrying her back to the bedroom.

He says, pleasantly, “We could at least get some practice in.”

“Sure, baby,” Isolde murmurs, pressing her face into his neck. “Whatever you want.”

And she doesn’t have to see the smile to know he’s got it plastered on his face when he says, “Told you it’d be too easy.”

#otp: our cathedral is the badlands #ch: isolde khan #oc: michael s hughes #my writing #isolde being 2 seconds from saying she loves michael because he's been listening to her dad ramble for like an hour and a half #haha #: ))))))))))))))))#I'M FINE #anyway #far cry 5 ocs #fc5 ocs

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anxiouslymalicious · 5 years

Text

Losers Club Plus One

Richie Tozier x daughter!reader series

A/N: Hi there! I’m so sorry I haven’t posted in a long while, but writing became more of a duty than something enjoyable so I took some time off and did some shit. I’m feeling really fucking good now, ready to get back into writing. I’m kind of nervous to post this because this is my first time writing for this fandom and the characters and I’m not sure if this is good, but it’s fun to write so I hope you guys stick with me.

This is going to be as close to the movie as possible, but there will be inserts of the book, maybe even of the 90ies movies if I feel like they would work better with the slightly off plot that I’m creating. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Oh, and the usual warnings for cursing, death, mentions of blood and alcohol etc. apply. It’s IT so shit is going down.

I hope you enjoy!

“Dad? Are you alright?” asked a small voice behind Richie as he was still in utter shock. Well, the owner of the voice wasn’t exactly small anymore, but it sounded so hesitant and broken, it might as well had been a little kid trying to catch his attention. His throat was still burning, the foul taste of bile laid heavily on his tongue. Richie’s face scrunched up in disgust as another wave if nausea hit him.

“Yeah, yeah I’m good- “ He started, but was interrupted by himself as he leant over the railing and more of his stomach’s content escaped. The young girl stepped closer to her father, lying her hand on his back in a comforting manner before a group of people busied her father again, giving him booze and water before his show.

“Be good, little one.” Richie rushed out as he passed his phone to his daughter who would take it to his dressing room where it wouldn’t be any more of a distraction than it had been so far. The girl nodded and sent a smile his way, but he didn’t catch it anymore as he stormed out onto the huge stage, greeted by cheers. The smile was quickly wiped off the girl’s face as she made her way through the narrow hallways filled with too many people for her liking. Ducking under equipment, dodging people in suits who were too busy looking at their phones to realise where they were going and ignoring the voices of people telling her that she was not supposed to go into certain areas. She was, they just didn’t know, so she showed them her backstage pass and kept walking until she saw the door to her safety. Once she stepped into the stuffy room that reeked of cigarettes and alcohol, she closed the door behind her, locked it and made herself comfortable on the little couch.

Her father’s phone was buzzing in the young girl’s pocket, catching her attention. Who in hell had called and what did they say to throw her father so out of track? Judging by the nervous voices around her in the hallways, she was sure that her father wasn’t off to a good start for the show, something that hadn’t happened in ages. Not since his first actual show.

The girl was absent-mindedly biting her nails before another buzz of her father’s phone pulled her out of it and she decided to have a look. Richie’s phone was blowing up with messages from his manager, which she decided to ignore as she checked the calls. It hadn’t taken her long to figure out that Richie had been called by someone from Derry, Maine, but a bit of deeper digging told her that it was actually the local library’s number. Rather than reaching the sweet relief of knowing, she felt her insides churn with fear and confusion, feeling restless until she heard the familiar ruckus that ensued when her father was close to finishing a show.

It had felt like literal ages since Richie had left for the stage and the young girl was eager to ask her father about what was going on. Especially after that whole library-thing. Obviously, she had checked several times that she got the number right, and she did. Was her father throwing up because he was so nervous over a few overdue books from years ago?

The whole time she spent waiting, the girl tried to figure out whether her father had been on tour in Derry, whether he had even mentioned Derry ever before, but she was sure that, in her years of living with her father, she had never so much as heard him utter the word ‘Derry’ ever before.

Quickly, the girl moved to unlock the door so her father wouldn’t run into the door again like he had many times already, then sat down on the couch again, her leg bouncing nervously as she mindlessly tapped her fingers against the phone in her hand.

It wasn’t long until Richie stormed into the room, locking every unnecessary person out and turned to his daughter, drink in hand, holding his other hand out for her to pass him his phone. She did, following their usually so quiet routine. After spending more than an hour talking endlessly about whatever jokes they had put into the set, he was grateful when he could spent a few minutes not saying anything, just listening to the voice of his daughter telling him about what had happened in school that day, telling him what stupid things someone backstage did or what she and her friends were up to. It was relaxing to him, knowing that she was there, and her life was going somewhere.

But not this time.

“Dad why did the Derry library call you?” she asked with the calmest voice she could muster, although her voice was shaking with fear. Of what, she didn’t know, not yet, but she knew it was something big. Something bigger than her or him. Something bigger than overdue books and the terrifying old ladies that would scold you and make you feel like crying even when it had only been a day overdue.

“It wasn’t the library, it was,” Richie sighed before taking another sip of his drink, “It was an old friend of mine. Mike Hanlon. We made a promise when we were kids and now, I need to go back to Derry.” Richie mumbled into his glass. Nonetheless, she understood every single word he said.

“We.” She said, crossing her arms in front of her chest as she got up from where she was curled up on the couch.

“No. Definitely not. You’re staying here.” Richie said before downing the rest of his drink and looking through the cabinets for a new bottle.

“On my own? Or with my non-existent mother who left me at your door, remember? Or with the neighbours? The creepy ones with all those fucking life-size dolls?” she asked, her voice growing louder.

“Oh, fuck off, you’re lucky you’re my daughter, Y/N.” Richie said before letting his own body drop to the couch she had previously occupied. “Shouldn’t have let you watch my shows. Big Bill is going to love you.” Richie grumbled, rubbing his face. A grin spread on Y/N’s face as she sat next to her father, lightly leaning her head against his shoulder. Automatically, Richie’s arm spread over her shoulder, pulling her closer, trying to keep her safe from what was about to come. From the inhuman atrocities she was about to witness. Keep her safe from IT.

“When are we leaving?” she mumbled into Richie’s shoulder. Another sigh escaped his lips.

“As soon as possible.” He told her and, so, she found herself in an airplane not much later. They would fly as close to Derry as possible before taking a rental car to drive to the Derry Town House where they would be staying.

“What was Derry like? And your friends?” Y/N asked curiously as they found their seats on the plane. She watched as her father stared straight ahead for a few seconds, eyebrows furrowed, as he was deep in thought.

“I- I don’t- I can’t fucking remember. I honestly can’t remember shit, Y/N.” Richie mumbled, followed by a groan as an indescribable pain shot through his eyes. He closed them tightly, his hands flying to the armrests, fingernails digging into the material. Y/N watched on, shocked to say the least. Shaking her father, she tried to find out what was wrong with him, but as suddenly as this burning pain in his eyes, behind his eyes, had appeared, it had also gone.

“Don’t worry, I’m fucking fantastic.” Richie grumbled towards his worried daughter as he leant back in his seat, trying to remember where that came from, why it felt so familiar.

After many tiresome hours that were mostly spent sleeping, with rare exceptions of Richie mumbling to string his memories together, using her as some kind of journal to keep track of what he remembered and how his memories were connected, the father-daughter-duo found themselves just outside the airport, looking for the car they rented, on wobbly legs. The sunset was about to start, the sun lazily rose, turning the deep dark blue into a pale, greyish-blue colour that slowly but surely turned into a pinkish hue.

“Did you fall asleep standing or are you just being the same lazy ass as always?” Richie screamed, standing in front of the car that seemed to be theirs. And, for the first time in many hours, Y/N could see the outlines of a genuine smile growing on her father’s face. And she couldn’t help but smile with him.

“Just wanted you to do all the searching, old man.” She grinned as she took her bag to the car and got in. Richie, obviously, searched for a radio station that played some good old rock’n’roll to distract him for the fear rising in the pit of his stomach. He was scared, but he wouldn’t admit it to his daughter. Because he wasn’t only afraid of IT and the things IT might do not only to him, but also his friends or, worst of all, his daughter, but Richie was afraid of facing his old friends. Or more those who would appear. He didn’t have high hopes for them, expecting that maybe three of them would appear and he would be able to take his and his daughter’s ass out of the town first thing after the lunch because they were not enough to defeat IT.

That thought kept Richie sane as he walked up the scarily unfamiliar yet strangely street towards the Town House. Shivers ran up and down his spine and he felt Y/N’s comforting hand on his back, trying her best to ground him. And, just like her father, Y/N wouldn’t admit that she was scared. She hadn’t seen what he had, she didn’t know what she was facing, what was so chilling about this town, its residents and its sewers, but she had never seen her father this quiet before. And that scared her.

Once they arrived in their small room, the duo sat down on the edges of their beds, silence taking over. The sun had meanwhile risen higher, clearly visible and warming the cool streets.

“Maybe we should order breakfast or nap a bit?” the young girl broke the unbearable silence, pregnant with unspoken opinions. Richie still thought she shouldn’t be here with him, but in their house back in LA. Y/N, however, was convinced that her father needed her support with whatever he was about to do. He still refused to tell her about IT, still hoping that they would be gone in a few hours and she didn’t need to be scared of something they couldn’t do anything about, something they didn’t need to fight.

Richie nodded, kicked off his shoes with a sigh and laid back on his bed. His daughter grew irritated.

“Maybe you can order something while I’m taking a shower. Maybe then you’ll have your panties untwisted.” The girl said before stepping into the small room, closing and locking the door behind her. What she didn’t expect, though, was to come face to face with a boy her age. He looked like a normal kid, soft curls surrounding his face, but there was something off about him.

“I see, the loser’s newest addition finally made it to Derry. And she has just as many secrets as all the other losers.” Said the boy with a chilling smile on his thin lips.

“What the actual fuck are you doing here and how the fuck did you get in here? You know what? Doesn’t matter right now. Just please get the fuck out.” She growled, puzzled at how neither she nor Richie had noticed a teenage boy hiding in their bathroom. Hadn’t her father used the bathroom when they first entered?

As she turned to unlock the door, an ice-cold hand laid itself on her shoulder, pulling her back into the cold body behind her. She now squirmed, trying to unlock and open the door rather frantically, desperate to get away from whatever ghostly being was behind her, but no matter how hard she tried, which way she turned the key, it did nothing to open the door.

“Dad!” she yelled, hammering her hands against the wood. “Help me! Some creep is in here and I can’t get out.” Richie was up in a flash, his heart feeling like it just dropped to his stomach, and ran to the door, yelling his little girl’s name in despair and banging his fists against the old door.

“Y/N, whatever you’re seeing is not real. Don’t be scared, it’s not real!” Richie screamed, his voice clear but shaky. The girl was confused at his utterances.

“How is he not-“ she started, but stopped when the boy was grinning at her, now looking older than before and covered head to toe in blood that was streaming from the huge cuts on his lower arms. “WHAT THE FUCK?!” she forced out instead and tried to get as far away from the being as possible.

“Don’t worry, Richie. She will float with all the other children and your dirty little secret will remain uncovered.” It said in a high voice that didn’t fit the man in front of the girl before trying to grab her throat. Y/N tried to duck away, but she felt her body being pushed forward against the sink, her head crashing against the mirror, breaking it.

“Y/N! Try to hurt it! It’s not real! Not real, it’s not real!” Richie kept yelling through the door as he kept kicking and throwing his whole body against the fragile wood. Although his words were meant to comfort his daughter, it sounded more like a mantra he was using to comfort himself. The girl listened to her father, picking up some of the shards that were now in the sink. With a swift movement, she sunk the shard into the older man’s face, pulling it down as hard as she could. A huge gash was on the man’s bloody face, but instead of more blood, some black mass seeped out of the wound, but whatever it was that was standing in front of the teenager, it didn’t seem too phased. An angry expression formed on its face before it leaped for her, grasping her throat and pushing her up against the wall. She was gasping, desperate to fill her lungs with the oxygen they were already lacking, but not yet screaming for. She squirmed, hammering the shard in her hand against the thing, successfully hurting it. It let go of her, dropping her into the bathtub below her before fleeing through the toilet.

Richie finally managed to break down the door, falling into the room only to find his daughter shaken up beyond belief, curled up in the bathtub. Unshed tears glistened in her eyes while blood streamed down her suddenly paler than usual complexion from an open wound on her forehead. She didn’t look like she had seen a ghost, she looked like she was the ghost.

“Oh god, come here. I- fuck. It’s alright, it’s over. You’re alright. Fucking hell, you’re alright.” Richie mumbled as he crawled into the bathtub with her, pulling his little girl into his arms, tightly pressing her shaking body into his chest. Soft whimpers escaped her lips against her will. Richie spread out a little, legs hanging out of the bathtub as he just tried to comfort her while trying not to lose it and leave immediately. Back to LA, where IT couldn’t reach them.

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princecharmingmendes · 4 years

Text

Heartstrings | Chapter IX | Shawn Mendes

“ ‘It’s like a best friend, but more. It’s the one person in the world that knows you better than anyone else. It’s someone who makes you a better person, well, actually they don’t make you a better person… you do that yourself because they inspire you. A soulmate is someone who you carry with you forever. It’s the one person who knew you, and accepted you, and believed in you before anyone else did or when no one else would. And no matter what happens..you’ll always love them.’ - unknown”

“Shawn was a huge believer that the ‘soulmates’ situation’ was the most stupid thing on the planet, specially since it was such a rare thing to find someone with the same mark as you. He would do anything he could to prevent the so called 'destiny’ from happening, but could he?”

hi, i’m sorry for disappearing, but i needed to take a break to put my life back on track and i didn’t want to just post anything cause i didn’t want to ruin this series, so i’m so sorry. anyway, i hope everyone’s doing okay and this is another chapter and i hope you like it, and please give me some feedback.

*Word Count: 2.6K+

*Warnings: minor cursing and that’s it.

*Posted: May 15th, 2020.

-*-

Lunch date with your best friend and soulmate on a place your crush and his friends will most likely be as well is a little... complicated.

That’s exactly why I was putting on an extra effort on which outfit I should wear with a bit more makeup than usual sitting on my face. I mean, not that I don’t like getting ready and looking nice, I do, I just never thought I’d have to dress nicer to go to a Saturday morning class because I’d have a date following it. And that’s exactly what was stressing me out. I can simply show up extremely out together without people noticing and at the same time, I wanted to look different. This is just confusing and stressful, that’s why I shouldn’t dress up based on what others would think. Just as I was about to give up my phone started ringing and Shawn’s pretty face lit up my screen.

“Hey, what time should I pick you up?”

“I’m not going anymore” I mumbled running my hands through my hair.

“What?!”

“Okay, I’m just being a bit over dramatic, it’s just... I don’t know what to wear” I was literally digging on my closet for the fifth time as I talked to him, separating possible options and throwing them on my bed.

“Honey, it’s not a real date, besides... I’ve known you for my whole life, you know you don’t have to worry about your outfit, I’ve seen you in my clothes covered in mud, I really don’t care about it”

“But I do! You think I wouldn’t dress up nice if this wasn’t a fake date?”

“Well... I guess you would”

“So I have to do it so people will believe”

“Hey, don’t stress too much, you’d look good in literally anything, including pajamas” and that was him making me blush like a 13 year old girl, and that’s when his words hit me.

“Oh my God! You just gave me the best idea!”

“I did?!”

“Yes! Thank you!”

“You’re welcome...? So, what time do I need to pick you up?”

“I have classes in half an hour, and it’ll last a bit more the an hour”

“Okay, I guess I’ll pick you up there and make a scene”

“Don’t you dare”

“Why?! Don’t like flash mobs on campus?”

“Fuck you, Mendes”

“That’s a great way to pass time until I have to pick you up”

“I hate you, and you can’t cheat on me”

“I’m not your real boyfriend”

“But people need to think you are”

“Fine, I guess I’ll just have to take the matters on my own ha...”

“Gross, I don’t even know why I talk to you” I cut him off as soon as I noticed where he was taking this conversation.

“I can literally hear the smile on your voice” he said with a boyish smirk evident on his voice.

“Whatever”

“I’ll see you later, baby” he said chuckling and hanging up.

Did he just call me baby?!

-*-

I headed to class like I normally would, a bit early to get my usual spot and sat down at my chair, plugging in my earphones and just killing some time before class started. But from my peripheral I saw Tyler coming into the class and placing his backpack on the empty desk beside me, and sitting down next to me, but before I could say anything, the class started and I started taking notes. And even though I was trying to pay attention, I could feel him staring at me, and it all felt a bit too familiar, only this time I knew why. It’s not like I said that I was dating Shawn yesterday, but today when I picked out an outfit, his leather jacket that was still with me was the accessory I chose. In the middle of the period I felt something bumping my hand and I looked down only to see a folded piece of paper on it.

“Nice jacket, a bit big for you though, x- Tyler” was scribbled on it.

I looked up at him and just shrugged with a little nod and he offered me a small smile, and I grabbed a piece of paper and wrote down a simple ‘not mine’ and added a small smiley face.

“Your boyfriend’s?” Tyler mumbled quietly.

“Hm?”

“The jacket”

“Yeah”

“Nice” was his last answer before we got back to paying attention to class.

After that, everything went faster and as soon as I noticed, the class was over and I was already packing my bags, with a notification that meant that Shawn was already there waiting for me so we could go on our date, and I didn’t even read it to know. So I got out holding my stuff tightly to my chest when I saw him, standing beside his car looking like a... a... looking so good I got a bit start struck for a

second. But then he saw me and a beautiful smile graced his lips as I started walking towards him.

When I was within arm reach, he pulled me by the ends of my (his) jacket and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into his embrace and I ended up laying my head on his chest. I gasped surprised and he smirked, leaning a bit closer to my face and my breath got caught on my throat. Is he going to kiss me?! But I just forced my lungs to work sighing and he placed a sweet peck on the tip of my nose, making my whole body heat up, leaving me completely flustered.

“Hey there”

“Hi, Mendes, couldn’t hold back the PDA?”

“What?! You expected me to behave when you look way too cute in my jacket? You already know how I feel about it”

“And how do you?”

“Pretty good, you look...”

“Don’t, let’s go”

“I was just going to say you look kinda hot”

“Kinda?”

“Okay, you do look hot”

“Shut it and let’s go, please” I practically begged and he chuckled, clicking his car open and I ran inside, already feeling the curious eyes on us from people on campus.

“Ready?”

“I guess the rumor already started”

“Oh, really?” he asked with a boyish grin.

“Do you want your jacket back?”

“Later” he said as he pulled out from his parking spot and started driving through the streets for the dinner that was only a few blocks away.

I honestly didn’t get why he literally drove everywhere when everything was kind of near, but I’m not going to complain when I get free rides to pretty much anywhere. I turned on the radio since he was focusing on the road that was pretty busy right now instead of talking to me, and I don’t mind at all, but I saw his grin when John Mayer’s voice filled up the car through his speakers. Shawn started humming along to the melody quietly and I just tested my head on the window and enjoyed his lovely voice. I think he noticed it and started mumbling the words as well, placing his warm hand on my thigh. I could really get used to this, soft love songs and car rides everyday, not with Shawn, he was my best friend and I guess that would be weird... wouldn’t it?

He parked one block away from the entrance and we hopped off his jeep to walk there, but before I could move too much, his fingers laced with mine and I had to hold back an involuntary smile that threatened to blossom on my lips. He was making this seem like it was just natural acting like we were a real couple. Maybe it’s a soulmate thing.

The place was slightly crowded, with only a few booths available, but we managed to sit in one that was a bit more on the corner so we could focus on his work. As we sat down we started discussing the possibilities of what he could do this whole project about and how to actually do it. I took off my notepad and started taking notes that I thought were for relevant topics we were discussing so he could remember later.

“I didn’t even start it and I’m already stressed” he complained huffing and I giggled.

“C’mon, it’s not that bad, and I’m even helping you!”

“I know it could be worse, I just kinda wish it was better”

“Well, it isn’t, so you decided anything at all?”

“I did, your idea was great and I think I’ll use it”

“Thanks, I guess”

“Can we order? I’m starting to starve”

“You’re way too dramatic”

“Whatever” he said rolling his eyes, but I noticed the way the corner of his lips trembled and how he had to trap his bottom one between his teeth to hold back a smile “what do you want? Usual?”

“Yeah, that’s fine”

“Okay” he said and quickly ordered our food as I scribbled a few extra things for him to work on “what is it?”

“Hm, it’s basically what we talked about, or at least the most important stuff, for you to have in mind” I said ripping the page off carefully with a ruler and sliding the paper over the table.

“Your handwriting it’s still gorgeous” he spoke softly and I felt my face heat up slightly “this is really useful, thank you”

“This is my job”

“No, it’s not, this is just you being you”

“Me being me?”

“Yeah, all cute and organized, guess I should’ve expected it”

“Maybe” I shrugged and he winked at me, making my heart flutter on my chest “So-“ I said as I cleaned my throat “-How’s Mike?”

“Oh, he’s fine, he and Mel are really a thing, eh?”

“Yeah, didn’t think it would actually become something”

“He’s completely... I don’t know, he’s like a lost puppy without her you know?”

“He’s in love”

“I guess, but I’m happy for them”

“But? What do you mean with that?”

“I don’t know if it’s something they planned on happening, I guess it just did”

“That’s how this thing works, you can’t plan it, not even if you’re like me” and with that he chuckled.

“I guess I just find it weird”

“Why? Never been in love?”

“No, I mean... Not with someone I actually had something with”

“Beyoncé doesn’t count, Shawn” I said thanking the waitress as she placed our dishes.

“I’m not talking about her”

“So... who’s the lucky person?”

“No one”

“Oh really? Gonna play that with me now? C’mon, I’ve known you since we wore diapers”

“You, my beautiful girlfriend” he said ironically and I shook my head laughing.

“I’m serious!” little did I know he really meant it.

“So am I!”

“Okay, but you’re wrong, cause I love you too, my smelly boyfriend”

“Hey, I don’t smell bad, everyone always compliment my scent”

“If they’re into bike oil with leather smell, than I guess you don’t smell bad to them”

“I’m hurt” he dramatically placed his hand above his heart and I had to laugh at that “at least now I’ve got burgers and all your fries to console me”

“My fries?! They’re mine!”

“Not anymore” he said snatching the basket from me and I tried to reach out for them, but it was impossible with my height and his, he just lifted his arm and I could not reach it not even if I tried.

“Gimme back!”

“No, you said I smell”

“Are you five?”

“And a half!” he said stuffing his mouth with my fries.

“Ew, gross”

“Are you ten?” he said as soon as he swallowed every little fry.

“I hate you”

“You just said you loved your smelly boyfriend”

“Well, I don’t anymore, you ate my fries!”

“Not all, there’s a bunch left, and to get them back, all you have to do is say I smell great and that I’m hot”

“Why?”

“Do you want them back?”

“Fine, you smell great and you’re hot” I mumbled with my arms crossed over my chest and he gave me my basket back “I pity the girl that will be your actual girlfriend.

“Oh, you do?”

“Yeah, what kind of shitty boyfriend eat the girlfriend’s food?!”

“Fine, you can have half of my fries if you drop this pout from your face”

“Really?”

“God, you really are easily persuaded”

“We’re talking about french fries here, the love of my life”

“I thought I was the love of your life”

“Sure, whatever you say” I mumbled starting to eat.

Little did he know he really were.

-*-

“So, thank you for today, I actually had fun” I said as he parked in front of my building.

“Thanks for helping me out” he replied reaching back for my backpack, only to place it on my lap.

“Shawn... before I go... Just... If you ever feel like you need to talk to someone about how you feel, you can talk to me” I placed my hand on his bicep, squeezing it softly “and maybe you should tell them”

“Tell who what?”

“The person... that you fell for them, you’d be surprised with what they’d tell you back”

“Yeah... We’ll see about that, and I can’t do that right now, you’re my girlfriend for the rest of the campus”

“Yeah, there’s that... It wasn’t bad, was it?”

“What? Playing your fake boyfriend? Not really, it was nice to have you close to me again”

“It really did” I said and my gaze fell to his plump pink lips “so yeah... it’s late... it’s like six and I told Melissa I’d be back to study with her by four”

“Oof, sorry” he chuckled and leaned in, placing a longing kiss on my cheek, a bit too close to my mouth to be honest “goodnight, baby” he mumbled with his face still slightly too close to mine.

“Hm, yeah, bye, Shawn, let me know when you get home, see you tomorrow!” I said as I got out as fast as I could, running up the stairs and feeling my whole face burning.

This time I didn’t even look back to see him, just went straight on my door, only to find a note from Mel telling me to enjoy my date cause she would find someone else to help her out. So I decided to use my newly found free time to take a long shower to try to drawn those damn butterflies on my lower belly. I got out like half and hour later wrapped up on a fluffy robe and noticed my roommate was still out, so I grabbed my phone to check if there were any news coming from her, something like ‘hey, didn’t die, i’m at...’ whatever. But instead there was a simple:

“found you’re little note and my jacket on the backseat, btw i’m home, x” a text from Shawn.

Oh, so he actually found his jacket that I was wearing and that I left on his backseat so he would take it back, with a pink post it sticked to it saying “it’s yours, I should’ve returned it sooner, but don’t worry, I’ll steal it back pretty soon,x - your beautiful girlfriend”

To Shawnie:

“Glad you found it”

From Shawnie:

“They’re my favorite, but look better on you anyways”

To Shawnie:

“There’s no one reading our messages, don’t need to flirt with me”

From Shawnie:

“Ooh, I know that, baby, I gotta run now, see you tomorrow, x”

And with that, I didn’t even reply, just locked the screen and took a deep breath, feeling a familiar yet unknown warmth spreading all over my body, and it was and odd, but really good sensation. I decided to ignore it and turn on the TV, trying to find something to distract me. But it seemed impossible to take Shawn Mendes from my mind, and to be fair, I don’t know if I actually wanted to.

-*-

*Please reblog or like this post if you liked it so I’ll know.

*I’m sorry if there are any spelling mistakes.

*Please do not repost this without giving me the credit, this is a completely original piece and I do not give permission to copy this!

*Hope you guys enjoyed it!

*xoxo

-🌙

: @fivefeetapartt; @misfithippiechild ; @@lilya-petrichor ; @katster2015 ; @woeisme13 ; @cherrysruin ; @babiestsm; @profmcgonagall ; @imaginesofdreams ; @moonlight-suo ; @stateoffelicity ;

let me know if you guys would like to be on a “taglist” for this series or anything else

and i’m sorry if i forgot anyone, please send me an ask or just comment down bellow!

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earth-architect · 4 years

Text

Senior Year Adventures (zuko x OC) pt.9

“we are going to have a great night”

Hey I’m here

She’s been standing in front of the mirror ever since she finished getting ready,” is the dress too much, do I have too much makeup on, will he like the way I look.” Millions of thoughts had run through her head, Zuko’s text brought her back to earth. Kianna nervously looked at the text, willing herself to get up, walk out of the door to the waiting boy that was sitting in his car. She takes on deep breath with a small mental peep talk, walked to her front door and open it. She almost walked right into Zuko, who looked like he was just about to knock on the door.

“Oh hey” she said, she could feel the blush forming on her skin, praying he didn’t notice.

“Hey, I didn’t know if you saw my text “he answers with a slight chuckle. She gives off a nervous laugh but stops as soon as she gets a better looks at him and she swears her heart stops. ‘red shirt? Leather jacket?? Is he trying to kill me’?

While she panicked on the inside at how good Zuko looked, she failed to notice he was checking her out as well. It seemed like eternity before Zuko broke the silence.

“well I guess we better go?”

“oh yes sorry,” She gives him a shy smile as they walk to his car, her eyes never leaving him. she tried to figure out what was different about him today. It almost seemed like he was a little nervous, which was new to her from the usual laid-back attitude he has. She could almost feel how tense he was, and it made her wonder. Was he tense because she had basically friend zoned him? should she tell him she didn’t mean to? How would she even begin to fraise a sentence like that? ‘Hey Zuko, just so you know we don’t have to just be friends’ or maybe she should say ‘hey Zuko I was just trying to show I care about you deeply not block you in a Platonic corner’

“Hey you ok? We’re at the store now”, Zuko said breaking Kianna’s train of thought. She hadn’t realized she had been in such a deep thought; she practically missed a 10-minute ride and who knows how long they were sitting in front of the store.

“ Y-Yeah sorry I was just thinking of what to get” she quickly got out of the car, hoping he couldn’t see through her lie

“We normally stick to beer and vodka, but if you can think of something everyone else might like it’ll defiantly be gone by the end of the night.” she explains as they walk into the store. She makes sure she catches the eye of the cashier as they walk in, giving him a slight nod.

“So how are we even going to buy anything?” He asked as she picks up the beer Sokka and Toph likes.

“I have my fake with me, and I know the cashier, we do each other favors”

“Oh”, he said, you could just hear the disappointment, “so, you two know each other pretty well”

“Oh yeah we go way back,” she says, kinda confused as to why he cares “his boyfriend likes to buy my work, that’s how we meet”

“Your work?” She almost turns to him to look at him like he’s stupid but then Remembers ‘he’s new’

“Yeah I commission a few art pieces every once and a while”

“Oh, wow so you must be good then “he says as he gets a case of Mikes hard lemonade.

”I mean I’m nothing extraordinary, it’s just a hobby, maybe you’ll see one of my pieces tonight at toph’s.”she takes a small brows through the wine section, deciding to get a bottle of rosé, ‘if I’m getting drunk tonight I might as well drink my favorite’.

“I think we got enough,” they begin to walk towards the check out, “unless you can think of something else to get.”

“Actually, yeah you start getting everything ringed up I have one more thing to get.” before she could even answer Zuko was rushing off to another isle

“Hey Ki” she hears dragging her attention away from Zuko’s fleeting form.

“Hey dyl what’s new” she smiles

“Nothing new, guess you’re having a toph party,” He give her a knowing smirk “who’s that guy, I’ve never seen him around you before.”

“Oh, that’s Zuko he’s new to our group” she tries to busy herself, digging in her bag for her wallet.

“Hmm new friend or new boyfriend.” he teases her. She opened her mouth to say something back but was Interrupted by Zuko, who placed down a bottle of tequila, he’s standing so close to her she can feel the heat radiating from him, ‘great,’ she thought ‘he’s a living furnace, my favorite.’

“Kianna? You gonna introduce me to your friend here?” Dylan’s sneaky remark make her give him a small glare.She rolls her eyes “Dylan this is Zuko, he’s new to the school and the group, Zuko this is Dylan, my plug.”

“Ouch I’m just your plug? I so hurt, but nice to meet you man.”

“Yeah nice to meet you too,” Zuko responds with a nod.

“By the way jake is going to call you soon, he wants to talk to you about buying that piece again, the one with the turtle duck pond and garden.”

“I’ve told you guys that one is not for sa-”

“I know but that one is worth a lot of money, money you n- “

“Can you just hurry up Dylan, were running late” she snaps

After that Everyone is Silent, only the beeps of the cash register can be heard. When Dylan finishes, she hands him half of the total in cash while Zuko rushes to pay for the rest. She quickly grabs some of the bags and walks out the door with a quick wave to Dylan, basically jogging to Zuko’s car.

“Are you ok?” He asks as he starts to drive off, heading to toph house. She stays silent for a while, deciding if she should lie or pour her heart out.

“Yeah I’m totally fine. “she fakes a smile and she already knows it didn’t convince him.

“We are going to have a great night.”

A/n: so i got excited and I’m posting early!! Let me know what you guys think about the written part, I’ll be have more of them. Aslo this part is being broken up in 2 so the second part will be up tomorrow!! If you want to be added to the tag list just let me know.p.s thank you guys so much for the love!!!P.P.s (guess this is my thing now lol) s special thank you for the awesome support to my new friend!!( they know who they are).

Tag list: @snickerdoodleeee @fanficflaneuse @pyromanicschizophrenic @kyleeanne016 @welovediaaxx

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i-eat-bread-and-cry-on-the-floor · 4 years

Text

y i k e s

@it-fandom-exchange

Here’s my fic for the IT fandom exchange! This is for Julian, aka @sigmatauris. enjoy!!

Stenbrough :)

TW: Mention of suicide attempt

Stanley pushed a mixtape that Richie made for him into his car stereo. The House That Built Me by Miranda Lambert plays softly on the winding road to Ben Hanscom’s house for a Losers Club sleepover. The fiery sun rolls down the sky, painting a trail of pink on a pastel blue blanket. Barely-visible stars blink, sprinkles across the yellow sky. Stanley unrolled his window to hear the chirping crickets that no one else in all of Derry slowed down to listen to.

At a stoplight, Stanley took a package of mint gum from the car’s cup holder. He unwrapped the flimsy strip of candy and folded it onto his tongue. Stanley checked his rear view mirror, keeping an eye on the full moon as it approached him. He was a good driver. He picked up the skill the day he got behind the wheel. He kept a rigid posture, hyper-aware every time a green light would flick on, gripping the wheel with both hands.

On the other hand, Stan Uris’s best friend, Richie Tozier, was the exact opposite. Stan always made fun of him before they turned fifteen. (“I’m terrified to see you behind the wheel, Trashmouth, there’s gonna be a lot of lives lost!”) He’d joke. The two loved to joke. Richie and Stanley shot rebuttal after rebuttal, teasing each other whenever possible. In their teenage years of mood swings and raging testosterone, the reckless kids loved poking fun at one another. Their shield of an ego would protect them from such “love-filled” words. Stanley’s ego though, slowly crumbled, and his confidence too. He had to build a shield—a wall—out of something else.

The Miranda Lambert song ended as Vienna by Billy Joel began. A smirk appeared on the lone driver’s face as the opening piano blinked through the speaker.

“Slow down you crazy child. You’re so ambitious for a juvenile…” He hummed, moving his head to the rhythm. Not quite bopping or swaying, but a healthy middle ground, “Why are you still so afraid? Hmm…”

Stanley let the crinkling piano and gentle vocals set around him as he subconsciously drove slower, reaching the Hanscoms’ neighborhood. He twisted the steering wheel, to prolong his drive. Stanley hated to stop in the middle of a song. Especially such a masterpiece as Vienna. His tires grazed the road until the song finished. He found his way to Ben’s house, nearing the song’s end. The same crinkling piano that opened the melody also closed it, prompting Stan to turn off the engine.

He noticed Barn Boy Mike Hanlon’s truck, similar to Richie’s pick-up in the driveway. He thought about Mike. He never understood the boy. Stan couldn’t resist rolling his eyes or making some passive aggressive comments sometimes, but Mike kept silent for minutes and more at a time. He reclined in the comfort of seeing his friends smile or share banter. Mike would blush under his dark skin at the sound of their laughter. Sometimes, Stan thought Mike Hanlon knew more about any of the Losers than the rest of them did. Other times, he prayed he didn’t.

Stanley saw Beverly Marsh’s beat-up wagon of a car too. He got out of his car and went to examine the rusty thing. Beverly drove well. Her reflexes never failed her; she knew the moves of every driver around her; and she had the second most driving experience of the group, (first being Bill.) The thing was that she inherited the car from her dad after he stopped driving. The alcoholic got his license confiscated and left his car to Daddy’s Little Girl. Stanley bent to see a broken windshield wiper and examine the chipped paint.

He assumed Eddie may already have arrived since the boy hated driving and lived within walking distance of Ben’s anyway. He finally decided to find out, hoping from Beverely’s car to the steps up to Ben’s front door. He knocked three times and stepped back, flexing up and down on his toes. Excitement ran through his veins whenever the Losers were about to meet up.

“Hey!” Ben’s bright grin lifted his cheekbones. Ben was a chubby kid, but way more handsome than most of the fit kids at school. His hair always fell into the perfect place unlike anyone in the Bowers Gang. His eyes shone with gratitude. He looked like someone who should be in a toothpaste commercial, where at the end a little sparkle effect was added to his smile.

“Ben, hey!” Stanley smiled back at his friend. Richie and Beverly both called Ben Hanscom “Ben Handsome” at some point behind his back. Beverly always loved plays on words. Ben once wrote Beverly a sloppy haiku entitled “January Embers.” Richie was the first person Beverly told about her crush on the golden-hearted boy, over a few cigarettes, a good month after the one-hit-wonder wrote:

Your hair is winter fire

January Embers

My Heart burns there too

Their stuttering friend, Bill Denbrough, loved words as well. He wrote a lot in journals no one dared to read. Pencils don’t stutter, so when he wasn’t around the Losers, he built pages upon pages of expression. Bill had it bad for Beverly, but Ben Handsome got the girl first. Stan hated himself for being glad about it.

Stan peaked inside, hearing a movie, some arguing, and bubbly laughter.

“Come on in!” Ben pulled him inside. We’re watching Back to The Future. Kind of…” he trailed off, leading him to the living room.

“All I’m saying is,” Eddie stubbornly argued, with sharp hand gestures to prove his point, “You can’t not have a backstory for a friendship! How the hell did Marty McFly and this stupid scientist guy meet? They clearly didn’t meet at school! Doc isn’t Marty’s dad or grandfather! You can’t just give us nothing!” Eddie stuck to his strict opinions on things.

“Eddie, it’s just a movie!” Beverly chuckled, crunching down on some popcorn. “Calm down.”

Mike rolled his eyes with the widest grin on his face. As the rest of the Losers Club barely tolerated Eddie’s hard opinions, Mike enjoyed the supervised chaos.

“That’s what I’m saying! It’s a shit movie!” Eddie leaned back on a dark blue pillow, against a white couch.

“Woah, woah, we don’t talk shit about Back to The Future!” Stanley spoke up as he entered the living room. Ben smiled.

“Maybe you don’t,” he shrugged, “I think the movie is trash!” he complained.

“I’ve got an idea,” Beverly snatched the remote from the table and turned the TV off, earning three groans and one silent ‘thank you’ from her friends, “Who wants to play truth or dare?” Those groans were replaced with cheers.

“Are we gonna wait for Richie and B-B-Bill?” Stan mocked Bill Denbrough’s stutter. He was only allowed to do so because they’ve been best friends since practically birth. He fumbled with the sleeve of his hoodie, sitting next to Eddie Kaspbrak. His lanky frame reclined against the leather piece of furniture.

“I guess,” Ben shrugged, “I’ll download a truth or dare app in the meantime.”

“We’re using an app?” Stanley laughed.

Eddie jumped at his opportunity to insult his friend, “Well, you couldn’t use your brain. We all know the saying ‘can’t use what you don’t have.’”

“That was a trash comeback,” Stan commented, fumbling with his Star of David necklace. He admired Eddie’s unwillingness to not chime in.

“You’re a trash comeback!” the boy crossed his arms with raised eyebrows.

Stanley furrowed his eyebrows, “What?”

“FBI, open up!” Richie boomed, kicking at the door.

“We brought s-s-snacks!” Bill’s soft normal-pitched, stuttering voice chimed in.

Ben marched to the door to welcome the conclusion of the group inside, “Hi!” Ben made way for the two, brushing his blond bangs from his eyes.

“What’s up, Losers?” Richie stepped inside, pacing to the usual meeting spot; Ben’s living room. He dropped a shopping bag of snacks near the couch as the Losers crowded around it like starved wolves in a pack. Really, that’s what they were; a pack.

“We were just about to play some truth or dare,” Mike informed, “For recap, Eddie’s been bashing on every little detail of Back to The Future and Stanley is a trash comeback.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.” Stanley scoffed.

“He’s also in love with Bill,” Mike added, making Stanley’s eyes go wide. “What are your sources? Aren’t you supposed to be the smart one?” This was one of those moments he severely hoped Mike didn’t know Stanley more than he knew himself. Truly, Stan didn’t know himself at all. He lost it somewhere in his mind and figured he may find it later. Perhaps, like an innovator digging through a dumpster, trying to find parts and pieces, he’d create something; bring it to life one day.

“You’re the Jewish one,” Richie poked Stanley’s shoulder. “Aren’t you supposed to be, like, mad intelligent?”

“Just mad.” Stan rolled his eyes.

The one thing he knew for sure about himself was that he had his secret which was the fact that Mr. Uris had no interest in women. He liked Bill as more than a friend since they were fourteen years old. The Losers were sixteen and seventeen now and he couldn’t kill the butterflies in his stomach when Stuttering Bill’s lips curled into a smile.

“The app’s downloaded if you guys are ready to play,” Ben held up his phone, showcasing the title screen of the application.

“I’m ready!” Beverly excitedly raised her hand.

“Me t-too,” Bill’s gentle voice followed Bev’s sharp one. The rest of the group ad-libbed ‘yes’s and ‘ready’s.

Ben has a very nice house. Marble floors matching the marble island in his kitchen, a nice white couch with navy pillows to go with the white walls, accented with dark blue trim. He had a wood-and-glass coffee table too, separating the couch and the TV. It was comfy.

Ben shooed everyone into the office, closed away from the living room with white french doors. There was a desk in the back of the room and shelves with books and comics and journals, displayed along the walls. The well-lit room had a shaggy carpet on top of the cold floor.

The Losers gradually made their way into a circle. Counter-clockwise, starting by the back of the room was Ben, then Beverly, then Eddie, then Richie, then Stan, then Bill, then Mike, then back to Ben.

“Alright,” Ben started, looking at Beverly, “Miss Marsh, Truth or Dare?”

“Dare!” her eyes glowed. The brave girl, far more chivalrous than any of the “men” in the room, loved adventures and thrills. Stanley insisted they call him a ‘man’ because of his bar mitzvah that barely happened. Bill and Mike were the real men of the house, but they both tied with Beverly even at that. The ‘dare’ part of truth or dare was a piece of cake.

Ben clicked the ‘dare’ button, “I dare you to put ice cubes down your shirt and leave them there until they melt,” he read with an amused expression.

“Son of a bitch,” Beverly heaved herself up, the key on her necklace jingling. She opened the door, “How many should I get?”

“Just grab a cup and we’ll see what happens,” Ben answered, offering a smile toward her, picking at the fabric of his hoodie. Beverly nodded and went off.

“A whole cup?” Eddie’s eyes went wide.

“Yes sir,” Ben nodded. Ben was not at all the evil type, even in truth or dare. The Losers dubbed him the ‘sweetheart.’ As long as everyone was safe and comfortable though, he enjoyed a bit of excitement, just like Mike did. Mike supervised all the shenanigans the group got into. Unlike him, Ben had no control over what happened. He liked to dip his toes into the pool of chaos nonetheless.

Beverly arrived back, a full cup, shaking with ice cubes. She smiled and held one of the frozen squares to showcase it for the group, “There’s at least fifteen in here.”

The Losers waited in anticipation and Beverly sighed. Her overalls would certainly keep the cubes in place. She slid the ice down the back of her shirt with a wince, “One.”

She counted out the rest, managing to keep her breathing steady as the sharp temperature nipped at her back.

“N-No one a-asked you to do a-a-all sixteen,” Bill reminded, an amused grin on his face.

“That was the dare!” She shivered.

“Actually,” Ben took a sharp inhale and showed the phone screen, “It never specified how many. It said ‘ice cubes’ in the plural, but could have just been referring to two.” This was a time that Beverly was not so much a fan of words.

The red-headed Beverly deadpanned Bill and flipped him off. She had gorgeous red hair that used to hug her neck, but after cutting it short, it curled into the air around her as a pixie style. The only similarity was the color which matched the freckles sprinkled about her face and arms.

“Why b-be mad at me? B-B-Ben’s the one who m-mmm-made you get a full cuh-cup!” Bill giggled, playing as if he were ‘oh, so offended.’

“I’m in so much discomfort,” she squirmed as she sat down, the ice numbing her lower back, “Okay, Eddie, truth or dare?” Ben passed on the phone after hitting ‘dare complete.’ Beverly earned one point for her troubles.

“Truth,” he answered.

“Pussy!” Richie taunted, “Just kidding, I love you, you fucking pussy-ass-coward.” Eddie huffed and looked to Beverly who now had Ben’s phone.

“Who, out of the people in this room, is your least favorite?” she read with a smirk and curious eyes.

“Richie,” he answered without a hesitation, making a grab for the phone.

“Bitch, please, we all know you guys are gay for each other,” Stan called, receiving an exasperated blush from Eddie and a cackle from Richie.

“That’s not true! I fucking hate him and his stupid face!” Eddie covered.

Beverly kept the phone hostage, “I’ve got a better truth: Who do you have a crush on Eddie?” her direct eye contact intimidated the asthmatic.

“I already answered a question!” he made another attempt for the phone, “That’s how the game works, you get one truth per turn!”

“Nah-ah!” She pointed, “Come on…”

“Richie’s, like, worse than Stan!” Eddie defended himself, “I wouldn’t date him if my life depended on it.”

Ouch. Stanley thought, but found comfort in being on a higher ranking than Tozier.

“Oh come on, I’m not so terrible!” Richie reasoned. “Are you saying you’d rather date Stan the Man Uris than this?” he posed, puckering his lips.

“Gross, Rich.” Eddie’s nose turned up in disgust. “I’m not dating either of you.” he crossed his arms.

“Beep, beep, b-b-both of y-yyy-you.” Bill brushed his shoulder against Stanley. Something about it seemed non-accidental.

“Richie, Truth or Dare?” Eddie turned to him.

“I’m not on speaking terms with you,” Richie crossed his arms.

“Oh, come on, I was kidding!” he admired Richie’s attempt to not burst into giggles. Eddie sighed and kissed Richie’s cheek, whispering a ‘no homo’ which received a wolf-whistle from Mike. “Truth or dare, you stupid bitch.” He took out a bottle of hand sanitizer from his fanny pack and applied it like a chapstick.

“Dare,” the flustered and confused boy stated.

Eddie took a second to click on the ‘dare’ button and read the task, “Ew, this one’s gross, I’m not reading it.”

“What?” Richie whined. “I bet it’s fine!” he strived to take the phone.

“You’re not licking the fucking floor, Richie.” Eddie snatched the phone away from Richie’s reach.

“Gross!” Beverly made vomiting noises. “Was that the dare?” she asked, earning a wrinkled nose and a nod from Eddie.

“Um?” Bill’s eyebrows furrowed, “Is n-no one paying at-t-tention to that k-kiss?”

“Just let ‘em do their thing,” Stan looked at Bill, wishing he could do the same to the blue-eyed boy. He’d imagined kissing Bill. He’d imagined holding his hand, cuddling, going on dates, pursuing a relationship, dancing, anything.

“I f-fucking knew it!” Bill celebrated. Stanley couldn’t help but blush at the gleam in his crush’s eyes.

“It’s okay, guys, he said ‘no homo,’” Richie put his hands up in innocence. He thought for a second about the dare. “I’ll lick the floor though.” he shrugged.

“I can’t believe I’d rather watch you--” Eddie read off a new dare, “--Twerking for 60 seconds to a song of the group’s choosing.”

“Please for the love of God do Please Don’t Go Girl!” Ben cackled, having the song stuck in his head all day.

“No!” Bev whined, “Babe, that’s our song! I don’t want to be dancing with you one night and end up thinking of Richie’s ass.”

Stanley could only be jealous. Not because he wanted to dance with Beverly or Ben, but because he wanted someone to dance with. He looked over at his crush, envisioning Bill’s hands on Stanley’s hips and Stanley’s on Bill’s shoulders.

“You’re right, you’re very right.” Ben nodded. “I vote You Got It then.”

“Ben, no one wants to twerk to your New Kids in The Block trash.” Richie urged, pushing his glasses higher onto his nose.

Ben pouted, whispering a correction, “It’s On The Block. Not In.”

“Whatever.” Richie said. “Can I please do Crazy Frog?”

“Why don’t we pick something nice like Frank Sinatra?” Mike suggested ignoring Richie’s proposal.

“Crazy Frog it is!” Eddie decided, cueing up music on his own phone.

Beverly bopped her head, trying to hype Eddie into doing the same next to her. He just laughed along with her refusing to dance. Mike made another wolf-whistle as Richie twerked--poorly. Bill pretended to slide dollar bills off his hands at Richie. “Yeah! That’s my be-be-best f-friend!” He cheered.

Stanley admired how Bill encouraged him, even while doing a terrible job. He wouldn’t dare to be brave like Richie, but he hoped that if he was, Bill would be just as proud. Maybe even wear the same goofy smile.

At the one minute mark, Eddie paused the music. “Who else is mentally scarred from that?” Five loser-hands all shot into the air.

“Fuck you, fuck all of you.” Richie sat as the crowd booed him offstage. He failed to refrain from laughing. “Stanley, your turn.” he nudged him once Eddie handed him the phone. “Truth or dare?”

He glanced in Bill’s direction, but decided not to fully look at Bill. “Dare.” he swallowed.

“Ooh, unexpected!” Beverly grinned, spinning around to lay on her stomach. She put her elbows on the floor and her chin in her hands to observe.

“Oh-ho-ho, you ain’t gonna believe this one, laddie!” Richie plastered an Australian, maybe slightly pirate-ish accent. “Feast yer eyes!” he shoved the screen in Stanley’s face causing the boy to squint and retract his head.

“Could you maybe like…” he brought the phone to a distance he could see. “What’s it s-ss-say?” Bill asked him.

“Let the group go through your phone, sixty seconds each.” Stanley recited the line. “Easy, I guess, yeah.” he nodded. Off the top of his head, he couldn’t think of any embarrassing text messages or photos. Stanley was a clean kid. “Did you wanna go first?” he handed it off to Richie, “We can just go clockwise?”

“You got it, chap!” Richie took the phone, “Which one of ye rascals’ll set up a time ticker for the gang?” he looked up.

Mike pulled out his phone and went to the timer app, “I've got it. One minute is on the clock… and…” He glanced up to each member of the group. Everyone leaned forward in anticipation, “Go!” he initiated.

“I’m going to the messages!” Richie declared and scrolled. The room erupted in instructions and suggestions, “Let’s see what Stanley is talking about with his dad…” Richie read a few messages out loud about handing in homework and test grades. He was doing relatively well in school, earning a congrats and a high five from Mike, across Bill’s torso. They studied sometimes together and both aced an English test no one else passed.

Richie got bored of reminders about school and his dad asking about Torahs that would always go missing from Rabbi Uris’s office. (“Dad, why in the name of Baruch Atah Adonai would I take six Torahs and keep it a secret?”) He went to messages between him and Mike. “Why were you and Mike sending memes back and forth at three a.m.?”

“As opposed to nudes? No, thanks man.” Stan tilted his head.

“I bet I’ll find some, somewhere here.” Richie laughed, reading three funny memes out loud before the timer rang.

“Pass it on!” Eddie held out his hand. Eddie looked at the rest of the memes, saying most of them outloud. Laughter roared from the group.

After Eddie spent his whole turn looking at Mike and Stan’s meme collection and Stanley calmed down a bit, he passed the phone to Beverly who passed it onto Ben. Ben passed on to Mike and Mike passed on to Bill. Stanley was almost completely calm by now. He was laughing along with the group. They made fun of Ben for sending Stanley drafts of poems that he wanted his friend to review before giving Beverly.

He had very little anxiety about them finding something personal since none of them yet came across something bad. He was just almost home free.

“I’m guh-guh-guh-going into your sss-search histor-r-ry,” Bill declared.

Richie cackled, “Why didn’t I think about that?” he huffed. Stanley’s eyes went wide, “What? No, that’s gotta be, like, illegal!” he reasoned. He was terrified of being outed. He knew he’d been doing research in the past week about if being gay was actually a bad thing. Gay quizzes, gay research, gay history, why gay?

His mind raced: What if they hate me? What if they don’t want me around anymore? He loved being a loser because “you had nothing to lose” but he did. If he lost the losers, he truly did have nothing left but himself. That’s the thing he hated most.

“So, you’re hi-hiding s-ss-s-something then?” he teased, looking to Bill to start the timer.

“What would I be hiding?” Stan asked, before quickly adding: “Bill, don’t you dare, I’m actually begging you,” he could hear his heart pounding in his throat. What if Bill came across something terribly worse than Stanley imagined? The feeling sank in his stomach as his heart rose into his throat.

“And I’m a-a-a-actually going into y-your ss-s-search history,” Bill rebutted, “Hey, if I f-f-find your wwweird p-porn, I won’t say it ah-ah-out loud.” The group laughed. Stan chuckled as his heart sank a little deeper, because he knew it would be far from pornography.

“Fuck you, man,” Stan flipped him off

“F-fuck you!” Bill’s face scrunched up.

“Sorry, I’m too busy fucking your mom!” Richie chimed in. He watched Eddie and Stan roll their eyes in unison. He saw Bill’s blue brown irises glowing almost white with the light of the phone.

“I w-w-won’t go into yyy-your search histor-r-y,” Bill bluffed. “Start the t-t-timer.”

“Thanks.”

“It just makes us all the more curious, Stanley,” Mike reminded him. He raised his eyebrow. Stanley did not like that gesture.

“Yeah, well,” Stan brushed it off, looking at Bill.

“Three, two, one!” Mike began the timer, officially.

Bill typed his way into Stan’s history to silently be met with a few things. Stan glanced down at the phone.

“Billiam, you bitch!” he reached for the phone. Bill deflected this turning his arm away. Stanley lunged at him but the boy dodged and stood up, reading out some searches, “From last night: Lots uh-uh-of reddit… Some songs… l-lll-lyrics… F-facebook… That’s a lot of s-s-swear words in Heb-b-brew.” his eyes widened.

“Stan, please!” Bill whisper-begged, an itching at his lungs brewed up.

The Losers snickered along, all oblivious. Richie chanted “Fight! Fight! Fight!” as Stanley got on top of him to wrestle the phone away.

“Bill,” Mike warned. He hated to see Stanley so panicked and used a stern voice, “Billy, hang on, I don’t think you should…”

“H-how to t-t-tie a tie?” (“Stan you can’t tie a tie?”) Richie taunted Stanley from inches away. Bill was barely focused on the words, just Stan’s priceless yet genuinely desperate reactions.

“What is-” Bill’s voice shut down for a good second. He looked at Stanley’s, coughing once, then a few more times, almost clearly stalling. Can you overdose on melatonin? How many milligrams of melatonin can the brain handle? What is the suicide hotline number? Followed by other related searches to pull the tears from one's eyes and drain the color from one's face. They met eye contact, exchanging a thousand words before Beverly said,

“Bill? What is it?” she leaned forward, now more concerned than gossipy.

“I-I sh-shh-shhh-shouldn’t,” Bill turned Stanley’s phone off and returned it to him. He sighed. This brought some brief attention to the distressed boy. Stan’s throat tensed as if he were on the brink of vomiting. Gravity seemed to pull his chest together, tightening and tightening and tighter, and he was almost sure he’d close into himself if it continued.

“What?” Eddie eyebrows furrowed, “What was on there?” he leaned his chin out at Stanley, the curiosity burning him up like one of the Bev’s cigarettes.

Stanley put his hands up like a robber who’d just been caught with a bad, bad crime. As if a pack of police officers surrounding him all had guns, pointing shiny red lights at his vulnerable, unprotected chest. A light-headedness pressured him and his blood ran cold--Cold enough to re-freeze the ice in Beverly’s shirt.

“Bill?” Beverly sat upright, no longer relaxed on the floor, prompting his name, more as a search for a solution than a question.

“I sh-shh-shouldn’t s-sa-say.” Bill stammered, much to Stanley’s delight. “P-p-per-per-p-personal.”

The guns were still up, but this time, Bill was his bulletproof vest. Granted, he never tried on such a shield before, so he wasn’t sure how good it’d work, but he had something.

“Is it something we should worry about?” Richie looked from Stan to Bill, indecisively. “Give us something, guys.”

Stanley shook his head with an instant, “No,” he answered, “Just personal.”

Mike nodded, “And we respect that. Right guys?” he asked the group, as a pleasant reminder to lower their firearms and let the guilty man free.

Stanley gave both Mike and Bill separate thankful expressions.

After a good minute of calming down, Bill still had the remains of thoughts flowing through his mind. Can you overdose on melatonin? What is the suicide hotline number? Can you overdose on melatonin? What is the suicide hotline number?

The group continued. Ben spilled the beans on how long it took for him to write January Embers and Bev gushed over him for the rest of the night. (“Babe, you spent a whole hour on seventeen syllables? That’s so cute!”)

Bill tapped his nails on the floor. Stanley watched his anxious hand. “I’ll be right back,” Stanley stood up, “I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” he was met with a few nods and ‘ok’s. He had been dared to chug a whole can of soda in one gulp so no one blamed him. After Stanley shut the office door, Bill propped up.

“I’m gonna be right back too,” he got up and followed. Stanley turned around at hearing the door open. He typically would feel butterflies in his stomach and blush in Bill’s presence, but after Stanley’s dare, he couldn’t think of a person he wanted to see less.

“Hi,” he waved, “What’s up?” he walked toward the bathroom, Bill following.

“C-can we t-t-t-talk?” Bill proposed, searching Stanley’s posture for any clues of expression. Stan turned around to face him, making the job easier.

“Sure…” he prayed it wouldn’t be about the searches, but he knew, somehow, that he’d run out of luck for the day, “About…?”

“I’m s-s-sss-sorry for still guh-guh-going into your hi-h-h-hi-history when you were c-c-clearly upset ab-b-b-bout it,” he started, looking between Stanley’s right and left eye, unsure of which one to make eye contact with. “I d-d-didn’t think i-i-i-i-it’d be that ssss-s-serious, I juh-juh-juh-just thought th-that…” he searched for words he didn’t prepare before hand, “Well, I d-d-don’t know wuh-wuh-what I thought b-but I just d-d-d-didn’t really c-consider how you f-fe-fe-felt and I’m sorry.”

“Stanley, it’s okay, it’s a game as far as everyone knows, right?” Stanley touched his shoulder. Bill was stressed to say the least. Thin balloons clustered in his mind, all filling up with helium and popping loudly at different times. All the colors of this loud, wild rainbow. He needed answers he was too scared to ask for.

“I’m- Is th-th-th-there- D-d-d-do you really fff-f-fe-feel like you wuh-want to d-d-d-d…?” it took a good ten seconds of ‘d-d-d’ before Stanley realized he wouldn’t be able to finish.

“I got help,” Stan cut him off, “It means the world that you care, but I promise I’ll be okay.” Bill shook his head. That just wouldn’t do.

“F-f-from whom?” the boy demanded.

“Uh- you know, just- people. You know?” he stammered. At least he wasn’t worse than Bill at this point.

“Th-that’s a l-lll-lie,” Bill pointed out, “St-Sta-Stanley, have you t-t-told your p-p-p-parents about this? You c-c-c-can’t- You have to g-guh-get help. A-actual help, like p-p-profff-fessional shit or m-mmm-m-medicine,” Bill told him. It was not a suggestion, but a fact.

“No, I don’t,” the words rolled off of Stanley’s tongue, with perfect diction, “I can just… promise real hard to be safe?” he suggested. “I wouldn’t break a promise to you.” he shook his head, tapping the scar on his hand from their blood oath.

“Stan, p-p-please,” Bill decided on Stanley’s left eye to stare at, “You’ve guh-guh-got to t-t-tell your p-parents, or- or I will,” he threatened.

Stanley shook his head, “Bill, for the love of God. Literal God. Please keep this a secret,” he begged him, his anxiety spiking once again.

“We ca-ca-can’t keep this a sss-s-secret.” he spoke, slowly and calmly, though Bill Denbrough was anything but that.

“Please, Bill!” he reasoned, “I’ll actually do anything at all. I swear. I don’t want my parents to worry. I don’t want them to know everything and then never leave me alone about it.” He breathed. “I don’t want them to treat me differently or treat me like I can’t be alone!”

“I’m nnn-n-not taking no for an answer on this wuh-wuh-one,” Bill decided. Every plea Stanley made only pushed Bill to give in, but he knew better. The two of them were tense. Anxiety sparked between the two of them when all Stanley wanted was a spark of love, not tragedy. Each word tasted like gasoline. Stanley had a lighter. He could easily mix the two.

“I’ll work on it on my own!” he put his pinky out, “I promise! I really promise. I swear, Bill. I swear on my life.” They shared a collective thought. “I swear on your life. I can do it on my own!”

“Stan,” his tone lowered as something clicked in his mind, “You don’t have to do it on your own,” he abandoned his coercive method instead, and approached gently, “I ha-ha-have no idea what I would do if- if maybe one day I woke up and you didn’t. Or what if… I missed my chance to say that I really appreciate you. Or if I never got to go to the quarry with you. Or give you another hug. Or tell you all the- a-a-a-all th-thh-” he huffed as his stutter made an ugly return.

“Bill, I promise, I’m okay, I promise,” Stanley repeated for him. He heard laughter from the group, but the joy from the closed off room did not seem to reach either of the teens.

“N-n-no, juh-just-” He took a deep breath. “I n-need-” Another breath. A breath so clear and refreshing that Eddie Kaspbrak would be jealous. “Stanley, I need you to know that I love you. That… not just friendship. I guess. Like the real, romantic, I want to be near you all the time. I want to make you smile and I want to dance with you and take away all your pain until I can just see you smile, type of love. I want to write you poems like Ben does for Beverly. And even if that never happens, I don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t know it.” Bill stared at Stanley, almost frozen. He couldn’t find it in him to move or speak to him. He listened.

Stanley had been hit with something he never experienced before. His stomach turned and his mind fuzzed; those butterflies were back. His eyebrows furrowed, lip jaw just barely dropped, which turned into a smile. Time passed too quickly and he knew he was wasting time, standing still.

“I- wow,” he raised his eyebrows. “Bill, can I give you a dare?” he swallowed, as Bill nodded.

“I dare you to kiss me and then hug me for a really long time.” Stanley grinned.

Without hesitation, Bill slinked his hand onto Stanley’s jaw and collided his lips chapped with Stanley’s soft ones. Stan imagined if Mike saw, he’d do another one of his famous wolf-whistles.

Stanley pulled away and smiled, “I feel the same way you do,” he whispered as Bill pulled him in again--not for a kiss, but for the promised hug, “I have for a while.”

“Wuh-wuh-will you b-be my b-b-buh-buh-buh-boyf-friend?” Bill asked as his face lit up, unable to contain his excitement. The butterflies in his stomach were replaced with fireworks and a grin permanently planted on his face.

Stanley hugged him tighter, burying his forehead in Bill’s neck. “Fuck yeah.”

Bill closed his eyes. He caressed Stanley’s back, exhaling a sigh of relief. He kissed Stanley’s head, not exactly aiming for a cheek or his temple, but just as his head was leaned on Bill’s shoulder. Bill rested his chin on Stanley’s shoulder.

“C-c-cool,” a smile crept onto Bill’s face.

The sun had completely rolled down the sky, leaving a black blanket with silver, glittering dots and a big round moon that he could see from the window. For the first time in a while, the butterflies visited when Stan thought about staying alive. He reached for Bill’s hand hesitantly and cracked a slow grin. Bill looked at him and smiled, squeezing his hand back. Stanley searches his brain for the right words. He ended up whispering, “I appreciate you to an incredible extent.”

Bill blushed and replied with, “I love you, too”

“I-” Stan’s face heated up at his inability to properly piece together the three fast words. He giggled and nodded.

Bill gazed at him, “D-d-don’t forget it,” he squeezed Stanley’s hand gently. “O-o-okay?”

“I won’t. Same to you.” Stanley squeezed Bill’s hand in return with a proud smile.

“Stan, y-y-you know we sss-s-still have to t-t-tell someone.” Bill raised his eyebrow, watching Stanley’s face fall to consideration.

Stan almost wanted to protest. ‘No, we don’t.’ or ‘I told you, didn’t I?’ or ‘Why?’ or ‘Just give it a week on my own and we’ll figure it out after that.’ he thought about saying. Instead he looked at Bill’s face, longing for closure.

“I know.” he sighed. “Come over tomorrow and we can talk about details and all that, I guess?” he scratched the back of his neck.

“I’ll b-b-be there.” Bill nodded, “I’m proud of y-you.”

Stanley beamed, kissing Bill’s cheek again. Bill copied him, kissing Stanley’s cheek. Stanley’s face heated up, blossoming like bright red roses. He went to kiss Bill’s cheek again, but Bill matched his lips to Stanley’s and they shared a kiss. Stanley was exhilarated; overwhelmed with what he’d wanted for years.

Richie stepped outside to check on the two, “Hey, what’s taking you so lo- oh.” The two pulled away from each other. “Reminds me of myself and Eddie’s mother last night.”

“I am going to end your fucking life, Richie.” Stanley threatened.

Richie put his hands up in innocence, “Just saying!” he went back into the office. Even through the closed doors, the couple heard: “Don’t bother them kids.” Richie’s Brooklyn accent “They’s suckin’ face and Eds here owes me five Washingtons.”

Stanley and Bill chuckled. Stan smoothly put one more kiss on Bill’s cheek before, leading him back to the office. Their hands never unclasped. Stanley looked over to him as Bill opened the doors. The attention turned to the two.

“Were you two actually kissing?” Eddie dropped his attention from his conversation with other Losers. “Cause I’m not paying Richie five dollars.”

“Are you kidding? Denbrough was practically getting laid out there!” Richie answered, receiving five voices of laughter and one Jewish glare. (“Beep, beep, Richie.” “You g-g-guys put buh-buh-bets on us?”)

“Not getting laid, however, was getting a boyfriend,” Stanley corrected.

“Doubt it,” Eddie challenged, shrugging. “Not paying.” he shook his stubborn head.

Bill glanced at Stanley, then kissed him on the lips for proof, catching the boy off guard. Stan almost fell over, before holding Bill’s waist and kissing back. “Whatttt!”s and “Woah!”s and Mike’s wolf whistle filled their office space. The two separated, grinning, sitting down in their original places.

Mike looked at the two with an expression that could only be described as ‘I knew it.’ Eddie looked over at a smirking Richie. He knew as well.

“I’m happy for you guys,” Ben smiled at the two.

“Me too,” Beverly’s eyes shone with pride.

“Th-th-thanks,” Bill answered for them with a smile, noticing Beverly and Ben holding hands. He whispered to Stanley, “C-c-come cuddle, let’s be a c-cuter cuh-cuh-couple then them.”

Stanley giggled, leaning his head on Bill’s shoulder. “Thank you so much by the way.” he said, not exactly paying attention to the other Losers’ words. “You’re the best, Bill.”

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bleufrost · 4 years

Text

Crawl Home to Her || A Ben Hanscom Series

Chapter Three: Lollipop

a/n: this is a little different from the usual, but I feel that it's important to understand both parts of this relationship a little more. I hope you guys enjoy 🖤

masterlist

summary

rating: m for graphic depictions of violence, gore, and adult themes

Years pass like seconds when you’re enjoying life; for Ben they had passed like an eternity.

When he went off to college and made his own way in life, away from Maine, away from where he spent half his childhood, he had made new memories. Ben lived a whole new life in entirety, yet there was always something that held him back. Unlike Ali, Ben never completely forgot what happened in his youth. While she constantly ran toward the pain that, to this day, stabs at her heart and evades her memory, Ben had held on to it; never finding himself in need of pursuing the life he had never let go of.

Things were hazy, some parts he never believed were real at all, but he remembered nonetheless. Every once in a while his hands would start dialing her number, hopelessly willing himself to go through with the call that would allow him to hear her voice, yet he could never do it. Ben knew that her past was not something he wanted her to feel the agony of reliving once more. He knew that if she wanted to dig up old relationships, she would call him; she never did though. Maybe some things were best left in the past.

Besides, things had changed exponentially for Ben. His intelligence and nack for building things had gotten him far in life. He was a distant cry from the chubby little boy that had been the subject of torment growing up. Appearances shifted, leaving him a tall and decently fit man, but inside he was always going to be the same Ben. Physical attributes only go so deep, and Ben was never entirely sure how he felt about that.

Often he found himself wondering what his friends would think of him now. Would they be proud of who he had become? Would she be proud? Ben knew that was a stupid question; of course she would be. She always had been his biggest supporter and he knew that if she were still in his life now, then she would still hold that title proudly.

On days when the thought of missing her became overwhelming, he would take out the only tangible thing he ever kept from his childhood: a beautifully drawn sketch of him when he was young. This drawing was one of the only times he was ever able to look at himself and see something worthwhile, and it was all because she had seen that in him and used her breathtaking talent to translate it on page. She had been his saving grace as a kid, and some small part of him selfishly hoped that he had been hers.

The night he received a call from Maine, a small part of his heart awoke with light, thinking in some stupid wish that it would be her. He quickly shut off the conference call he had been in and grabbed his cellphone, calming the butterflies in his stomach and answering the call.

Mike Hanlon was on the other end that night, not her. It was not necessarily a let down though. Ben missed his old friends and talk of a reunion both mortified and excited him. If this was happening, there had to be good reason. Quickly packing, he found himself on the first flight to Derry and prepared to finally see the first real friends he ever had for the first time in years.

****

The tires of his car come to a halt in the parking lot of the restaurant Mike had set as their meeting place. Ben takes a few deep breaths to try to calm his beating heart, but it does nothing as his eyes land on a woman exiting her own vehicle. He sits there, unable to move from his car as she walks toward the entrance, stopping to stare at the lights radiating within. Her hands come down to play with the zipper on her coat and Ben smiles to himself as he remembers all the times he had watched her do that growing up. At some point she had opted to start taking his hand instead when her anxieties grew too high, and they subtly begin to itch with the need to know she was protected in his grasp once more.

Ben decides then and there that nothing can keep him from entering the restaurant. Not the fear of rejection, change, or the terrifying clown that he has just started to remember more clearly. Looking down, he smiles at the bag of lollipops that he was compelled to buy at the small gas station on the side of the road near the entrance of Derry. He didn’t remember why it was so important at the time, but a flood of memories of an adorable young girl sketching in a little book with a lollipop always hanging from her mouth came back to him the moment he saw her. Turns out he had forgotten some things.

He steels himself, grabbing a small lollipop from the bag, and exiting the car. Ali was still standing there, and Ben knew from experience that she was overthinking things. Just as he is sure she is going to turn back and leave, he does what he recalls her having done time and time again when he was young and afraid of the world; his hand feels inside his pocket for the wrapper and he pulls it out, smiling as yet another distinct memory comes to mind.

“You want a lollipop?” The smile is still on his face, and it only grows as she turns around to finally meet his eyes. He had waited so long to see her again, and now looking at her felt as though he had never grown up. There he was, a child again, looking into the eyes of the girl of his dreams.

She was different, that went without saying. Ben knew he looked exponentially different from what he used to as well. There was no amount of change that could make him unsure of who she was though. No, Ben knew that beauty anywhere. It was a kind of loveliness that was distinctly her. She is breathtaking now, but she always had been.

The years had passed like an eternity for Ben, but now time seemed to finally move again.

Tags: @somebody-to-rock-you @spiritsent @alexther11 @floralpiper @thesmittenkitkat @goldenmoonbeam @daisysinadarkmedow @auggusst @isabellathedreamer @makbubblefandom @1988-fiend

message me if you want to be added to the list!

a/n: i appreciate every read, like, reblog, and comment so so much! feedback is always welcome and i hope you guys are enjoying this.

happy new year loves! enjoy the slow calmness while it lasts because this is gonna be a whirlwind pretty soon! love you guys so much and can't wait to see what you think ❤️

#it chapter 2 x reader #it chapter two x reader #it chapter two #it chapter 2 #it chapter one #it 2019 #it 2017 #ben hanscom #ben hanscom x reader #ben hanscom fanfic #richie tozier #richie toizer x reader #beverly marsh #bill denbrough #mike hanlon #eddie kaspbrak #stanley uris #jay ryan #jay ryan fanfic

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shedoesthings · 5 years

Text

I Need To Know - Part Six

Billy Hargrove x Reader

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

(Imagine the car window not being smashed for this part!)

Billy’s words seem to grate on me for the rest of the day. He was so incredibly cocky, acting as if he knew anything and everything about me. He knew nothing. He met me yesterday! How could he have a clue about anything?

‘Driving miss daisy?’

What was that? He didn’t have a clue how I felt about my life, he didn’t know what I wanted, what I needed, my plans for the future. Not to mention his demeanor, his constant winking, the attitude of a self-assured asshole with his head too far up his own ass to consider anyone else around him. And that damn smirk, that stupid damn smirk…

“Y/N…” Harrington sings as he practically skips down the hall towards me. I turn and laugh as others stare and laugh along.

“What can I help you with Harrington?” I laugh, closing my locker and leaning against it as he stops in front of me.

“Oh, I know you can help me because I have a pocket full of quarters and some intense feeling inside me which says I neeeeeed to play dig dug” he laughs. Steve had a strange obsession with dig dug whenever we went to the arcade. He was never any good, in fact he was crap. He could never get close to being on the leader board, but damn he did try.

“Well I think your craving can be quenched. Say six?”

“Perfect! Couldn’t think of anything better!” he smiles, picking up my bag from my feet and swinging it round his shoulder along with his own. He was still in grovelling mode, he knew there was no need, after a trip to the arcade we were always back to normal, but he decided to carry on anyway, and I did nothing to stop him. We walk towards the doors, still laughing together. He opens the door for me, holding it as I get through.

“Steve!” a voice shouts as it closes behind us. I turn to see Nancy stood in the hallway watching us walk away.

“Hey, Nancy’s calling you” I say, grabbing Steve’s arm lightly to make him stop.

“I know. I heard her”

“Have you not spoken to her yet?”

“No, I have” he says, looking at the ground around his feet. “She pulled me out of gym right when your new boyfriend ripped the ball out of my hands”

“New boy…” I begin to question before I realize who he’s talking about. “He is not my boyfriend” I say, shoving Steve’s arm as he laughs and begins to walk away from the school, probably to make sure Nancy doesn’t reach us.

“Whatever you say Y/N” he jokes.

“Stop changing the subject anyway!”

“I basically reminded her of everything she said last night, since she was apparently too drunk to remember” he says as we reach his car. He unlocks it, swinging both our bags in the back before we both climb in.

We talk the whole way home about what happened. How Nancy forgot the whole thing and pulled Steve out of basketball to ask why he hadn’t picked her up this morning. Steve told me how he asked her if she truly loved him, and she said yes, but she couldn’t actually say the words. And I could see the heartbreak behind Steve’s eyes, and the smile of him trying to be strong. He tried to brush it off, as he always did in these situations, but I knew him, and I knew how he was really feeling.

“Are you sure your okay?” I ask as he pulls up outside my house. “We don’t have to go to the arcade tonight, we can do a movie and ice cream night?” I suggest, since that was what he did for me when I was heartbroken that Grayson hadn’t asked me to the winter formal in middle school, since then it also became one of our regular solutions to suffering.

“Nah” he laughs. “I think the arcades a good solution for this one. Plus, I gotta get rid of these quarters somehow” he says with a smile. I smile back at him, I only wanted what was best for him, so if that was what he wanted, that would be it. “Six?”

“Six” I smile, closing the car door and waving as he drives off.

---

Six o’clock soon came around and I was running late. I had tried to call Steve’s house, hoping to catch him before he left, tell him I would be about ten minutes late since I had lost track of time doing some homework. But his mom picked up, telling me he had already left but was sure he wouldn’t be mad.

When I finally got to the arcade, I was twenty minutes late, I practically ran since I didn’t live too far away. When I got there, I was ready to do some grovelling of my own, tell him I had tried to ring, tell him about the homework and wait for the onslaught of jokes to come of me being a nerd. But I was wrong. His car wasn’t in the car park. He couldn’t have left already?

I rush into the arcade, hoping he was there somehow. That’s when I spot Mike, Nancy’s little brother with all of his friends. They look up from the game their playing, some roll playing one about slaughtering a dragon, before waving. Dustin was the one currently playing, but he still looks up and waves, clearly making him loose the game.

“Shit!” he shouts, kicking the machine. “Piece of shit!” I laugh and roll my eyes at them. I had never expected to know this group of kinds, but like I said before, when I became friends with Jonathan last year, things took a strange turn of events, now I shared more secrets with these kids then most of my high school friends.

Its Dustin who I need to talk to. Ever since last year the pair have become friends, but not in a weird way, move like a sibling relationship, I know Steve see’s him as a little brother now, so by default, I kind of took an older sister roll, to all of them really.

“Henderson” I smile as I walk towards the party.

“Y/N!” he cheers, the others cheering with him “Long time no see girl” he says, attempting a smirk before showing his teeth and doing some awkward growl thing. I give him a funny look before I burst out laughing.

“Nice teeth man, but please never do that again” I laugh.

“Told you it wouldn’t work” Lucas laughs, shoving Dustin’s arm lightly.

“I’m telling you, the ladies can’t resist these peals” he says before doing the growl again.

“What’s up Y/N?” Lucas asks after a second of glaring at Dustin.

“Any of you guys seen Steve? Has he been in here at all?”

“Haven’t seen him since the other day” Dustin replies.

“Not see his car outside? Nothing?”

“Nope. Sorry Y/N” Lucas replies. I see Mike pull more quarters out of his pocket and look around to see what games are free, suggesting my time here is short lived.

“No worries, cheers for the help guys. Enjoy!” I smile.

“Wait, wait!” Dustin splutters. “Are you sure you don’t want to hang with us for a while?”

“Dustin” Mike says quietly, clearly impatient.

“No, don’t worry about it guys. I’m sure I’ll catch you later. Stay safe!” I smile again as I turn on my heels and walk towards the door.

---

I’m check my watch again. Ten past seven. Where the hell is he? He didn’t call before I left, there’s been no sign of him here, no sign of him before I got here. Nothing. Where the hell is he.

I can feel my impatience grow. I didn’t feel annoyed, I could just feel some slight irritation since I had been waiting here so long.

I pull out the pack of cigarettes from my jacket pocket and light one up. At least if I was smoking, I wouldn’t look so weird for standing outside the arcade for so long. Then, the rev of an engine as it pulls into the car park.

Of course. Of all the places in Hawkins, of all the places in the world, of course it had to be him, at this time as well.

“Be back out here in an hour or…”

“I know, I know. Or I’m skating home” says a girls voice. I see a red headed girl climb out of the blue Camaro.

“Hey! Watch the attitude!” his voice shouts as she slams the door and rushes past me into the arcade. I hope for a second he hasn’t seen me, that he just drives away. My irritation was already high, I didn’t want to have it raised anymore by him. But my hope disintegrates as the engine turns off and a car door opens. He gets out and walks closer, leaning against the passenger side door so he is facing me.

“Can I help you Hargrove?” I say blankly as I blow smoke out of my nose.

“It’s funny. For someone who was so sure that we’d only speak once we sure seem to be running into each other a lot.”

“You do have a bad habit of appearing right when you’re not wanted”

“See, I think I seem to appear when you need me most” he smirks, which makes me scoff.

“When have I ever ‘needed you’”

“Well, you needed my cigarettes last night. You needed my car this morning for a ride. I’m guessing they’re my cigarettes your smoking now.” He laughs. “And I’m also guessing your needing something to do now, or do you just plan of standing outside the arcade for the rest of the night like a weirdo.” Maybe he had a point… No. I didn’t need him, he just happened to be convenient recently.

“I’m waiting for Steve”

“Again?” he laughs, but there’s a hint of pity in this laugh. And the pity had a point. This had happened a lot these past few days, me waiting around miserably for someone who wasn’t turning up. “Come on” he says, patting the passenger car door before walking round to the driver’s side.

“Come on where?” I didn’t want to be curious, but I couldn’t deny a part of me was. What else was I going to do with my night? Wait around here for Steve who probably won’t show, just to go home and spend the weekend alone, waiting to see him on Monday for whatever apology he would surely give? Or maybe… be a little impulsive? No. I didn’t know him. I met him yesterday, how could I go off somewhere again with him, especially at night…

“Just on a ride?”

“Where?”

“I thought I was the one who asks too many questions” he laughs, smirking again. “I’m not gonna force you Y/N, the choice is yours. If you want to wait around here all night in the cold that’s up to you, or you can come for a drive, and maybe, actually have a bit of fun for once” he says with a smile, but his voice doesn’t sound dirty like it usually does, there’s an actual hint of friendliness about it.

“You’re not gonna murder me?” I ask, partly to be funny, partly out of worry.

“No” he smirks. “The second you want to go home, we’ll turn around and I’ll drop you off. Deal?” he says with a wink, licking his lips. I take a second to look at him. His leather jacket and red shirt underneath unbuttoned just enough to show a little muscle. His eyes staring up as me, the streetlight adding a little glint in them. A rush of cold air blows and pushes me into making a decision as I step towards the car.

“Deal”

Requested Tags x

@savingprivatecass @nightshade7117 @xxcxrolinexx @justmesadgirl @silver-winter-wolf @mynameispurple @leslxo @noodlenerd101 @non-binarycryptid @thefandomzoneisdangerous @writteninthestars288 @frenchieswiftie @dreamwavej @itsanallygator @idjitdestiel @rosehargreeves @slvtherinseeker @florenceivy @bandsandanimefreak @spn-marvel-nerd @majesticmarvelnerd @canny1902 @blablasomethingblabla @i-bitch-you-bitch @keira1416 @ashadowoftheforest @queenbbarnes @thecynicalviolinist @salemlysi @hardygal69 @billyhargrovescigarette @hella-anxious

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kimmyiewrites · 4 years

Text

Case Closed ~ Chpt 12

Previous Story Case Closed Masterlist

Down to the basement they went, taking in the long white hallway and the standard blue doors. All of the door handles had key pads above them so that seemed standard what was different with SBR-54, however was that there was a call system that included a video camera. Bex and Mike looked to each other, both with a questioning look before they both turned to face the door.

Mike beat on the door twice and a Kevin Bacon wannabe opened the door. This must be Don Pickle, Bex had to hold in her laughter when Mike told her that. Don looked at the pair up and down before rolling his eyes and letting out a sigh. There had been far too many unexpected visitors lately. "Yes?"

"Gareth Ritter. I'm Red Wheatus' chief of staff and this is Rebecca Morris, my assistant." Mike introduced.

"Oh, hi. What do you need?" Don asked, looking completely bored.

"To know what goes on in this room." Mike said before taking a step forward.

"Talk to Red." Don stepped forward, blocking Mike's path. "We're a little busy."

Mike sighed and looked at him with as much 'I'm of higher power than you' he could muster. "I'm Red's chief of staff. What's your position?"

"Legislation Director."

"Then I outrank you, so step aside." Mike tried to order.

"Not with this. I'm sorry." Don looked anything but.

Both Mike and Bex let out a reluctant sigh and stepped away. Don gave a smarmy victorious grin and closed the door with a little more force than was necessary. Bex looked to the door with disgust. "Well, he didn't have to do all that. I should have jabbed him in the side and snuck in when we had the chance."

Mike chuckled and guided her to turn around with him. "It just means that we have to be sneakier about it. Why don't you go grab us some lunch, I'll see what I can dig up in the office and I'll meet you in 30?" He held out a 20 dollar bill as they reached the main floor.

Bex took the bill and slid it into her pocket. "Fine but if you can't find anything we're doing an after hours snoop."

Grinning, he placed a kiss to her cheek. "Should I wait an hour before meeting you on the steps?"

She smiled back at him. "That might be better. I could potentially see if I can't hear anything or at least see if there's any people coming and going. It is nearing lunch after all. Surely they've got to eat."

Mike nodded. "I'll see you in an hour then."

For thirty minutes Bex stood near the door that led down to the extra rooms, hoping to see if anyone left or if anyone came in. Luck seemed to be on her side, when a food delivery guy showed up and met Don on the main floor. Bex stayed hidden behind a pillar and watched the interaction, trying to see what all was ordered. With Don gone and the delivery guy on the move, Bex hurried after him and tapped him on the shoulder. "I couldn't help but smell all that good food you just delivered so I was wondering what they got." She said when the delivery guy turned to her.

He gave her a confused expression. "Uh, you must have been smelling something else because all they got were salads."

"Oh, guess so. Thanks anyway!" Bex smiled before heading off in some random direction. She looked at the door that led down to the basement, warily. It was what she had feared. They were bug people.

Mike sat with his back against one of the columns outside the capitol building, looking not entirely thrilled. The look made Bex falter in her steps as she made her way up to him. "Is everything okay?"

He shook his head. "Red knows we went to visit his war room and even though I'm chief of staff, this is something that I don't get to know because it's his."

Bex froze. "But he doesn't -"

"No." He cut her off. "He is starting to grow wary of you though. Also said that you're starting to stir up some trouble."

"That is my usual M.O." She joked a bit but all she got in return was a pointed look. "Okay, okay this is serious but we'll figure it out." She said as she handed over the bag she grabbed from the cafe in the capitol building.

"Maybe we should lay low for the rest of the day." Mike suggested around the bite of his sandwich.

Bex shook her head. "No way. If anything his reaction means we're onto something. Plus they had salads delivered which I can assume most are definitely like Red."

Mike sighed, knowing she was right. "Okay, fine but we're keeping you out of Red's crosshairs. He's already looking into Laurel, I don't need him looking into you too."

"I will keep my visits limited then." She promised.

He turned to press a grateful kiss to her cheek before turning back to his sandwich.

They ate in companionable silence for a bit until Mike had an idea. He gasped in excitement as the light bulb went on in his mind and he turned to Bex. "I have an idea."

"Well, spit it out. What is it?"

"I'll turn the wi-fi off. I'll then get access to the room, see what I can find."

Bex grinned at him, matching his excitement. "That is genius. I'll head back to the office then and wait for any intel you can get."

Grinning, he stood, helping her up as well. He leaned in and gave her a kiss. "I'll talk to you soon." He grabbed his bag and headed back into the capitol.

Bex smiled into the kiss, thrilled that his slight hesitation earlier had gone away. She decided to sit back down to finish her lunch before heading back. She wasn't entirely sure what the day had planned anymore.

She was back at her desk, utterly bored. She had already typed up notes on what had happened recently to talk over with Blades and Marchant but now there wasn't really anything left for her to do except wait. Penelope hadn't sent her anything yet and Mike had just texted her to say that he had just turned off the wi-fi.

Tired of waiting she made her way over to Blades office, knocking on the door. "Hey, mind if I pick your brain a bit?"

He looked up from his computer and motioned to the seat across from his desk.

"What do we know about Syria or is the CIA the only ones truly looking into it?" She asked once she was seated.

Blades chuckled. "The CIA is looking into it far closer than we are. You really don't think they or any other country's terrorist organization is a part of this do you?"

She shook her head. "No, not at all. There's something else going on here entirely. I was just trying to figure out Senator Wheatus' and Pollock's obsession with it. It's like they're trying to divert our attention away from what's actually happening."

"Do you think they have something to do with these CHI's?" He raised an eyebrow.

"I don't know about Pollock because all she seems to care about is the animal testing they're supposedly doing. Wheatus, however, is very adamant about this Syria connection like he's trying to hide something."

"Well, have you talked to Warren?"

She nodded. "Of course. We're looking into something right now. I was just wondering what your take on this whole recent Syria development was."

"To be completely honest with you Morris, this whole case is batshit. I've never seen anything like it. I don't think Syria's got anything to do with this either and you know the CIA, they never like to share with us. Not to mention the added frenzy of this whole leak situation. So whatever you and Warren are looking into, just update me when you can and I'll see what I can do and without involving Onofrio."

Bex smiled. "Thanks, Blades. You'll have a report to you at least by first thing in the morning."

By the time that she had gotten back to her desk, both people she was waiting on had sent information over. She quickly scanned through Penelope's info first and much like it's been reported since the leak, Syria has had nothing to do with the CHI's. Mike seemed to have gotten a bit more information.

Except 38 days was just September 12 so that wasn't super significant and the blueprint he managed to take a picture of didn't make much sense to her.

He also told her he was giving the info to Laurel, so maybe Bex should head back over and visit the Healys. Besides, Luke did say that he owed her a favor for saving Laurel.

Speaking of Laurel, Bex received a text message from her just as she was leaving the office building.

I'm assuming Gareth sent you the same things he sent to me. Showing them to my brother. I'd really appreciate if you could figure out these locations. Then we could work things over here on our side.

Bex smiled at her phone. While she didn't care for getting mixed in with all the political back and forth, she'd be more than happy to give the Healy's as much ammo as she could.

Throughout her research, Bex's heart dropped to her stomach. There was one blueprint she still was unsure of but the others she knew for a fact that they were plans for internment camps. Based off the locations, it seemed far too similar to what America had done during World War II. They needed to figure out how to stop all of this and they needed to figure it out now.

#gareth ritter imagine #mike warren imagine #gareth ritter #mike warren #aaron tveit fic #braindead fic #graceland fic #crossover fic #case closed #moving on series #mike x bex

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bowieandqueen11 · 5 years

Text

Upside Down Part 3 / Mike Wheeler Angst

Thank you all so much for requesting a part 3, I didn’t think I would get such incredible support!! <3

‘Ms Byers! Ms Byers can you please, please open the door!’

‘Son of a bitch, this is so messed up, you know that right?’

‘If only Eleven were here...’

‘Well she’s not, okay, and neither is y/n- and for the love of- Ms Byers! It’s Mike! Open the door!’

‘Come on kid, move out of the way. Joyce? Joyce, it’s Hopper. I-I need your help Joyce. I....-’

The door suddenly swings open, nearly knocking Mike onto the patio floor on his butt, but he manages to grab Lucas’ arm just in time and knock them both down instead.

‘I’m here, I’m here, don’t get your pants in a twist. What seems to be the problem, guys, at nearly’, she looks down to check her watch, ‘two in the morning?’

Mike stumbles back to his feet, slightly shoving Hopper out of the way to stand in front of Joyce.

Mike would never forget the eerily silent drive to Will’s house, or the desperation that followed suit. Not for as long as he lived. The eerie darkness of that night would never allow itself to escape his memory, no matter how warped or twisted with confusion and regret it became. He clearly remembered the pitch-black curtain that draped across the Hawkins sky as if trying to smother the air. He remembered the twisted, warped shapes that the stars made against the blackness as they drove down the dirt track, pebbles spitting out from underneath the crunching wheels as he banged his head against the glass, blaming himself. The milky specks twirled and flitted out along the sky, the silver glow of the moon seeming cold and cruel as it bathed Hopper in a silver, alien light, only illuminating how pale and shaking he was as his fingers gripped the steering wheel tighter. A hot blue fire flickered in Mike’s heart and soon started to grow, eating its way through his insides and forming tears at the corners of his eyes that melted down his face like wax, feeling like he was trapped in a never ending nightmare as they trekked down that never ending road. Crying felt good, especially when they were tears that left Mike weak at the knees. As soon as Joyce’s face had flashed in front of the door, confusion furrowing in her eyebrows as she stared out at the two of them (Jim having sent the other kids home with Steve), clothes already on and an atmosphere around the way she pounded onto the porch that meant she was ready to become tangled up in whatever disaster Hawkins had pushed onto her next, Mike couldn’t hold it in anymore. He broke down, realising how unfair this town was to allow people like the Byers to be so wound up in misery that now it was a case of expecting it rather than hoping it would go away, how unfair it was that they were so young and yet had to deal with heartbreaking tragedies. How unfair it was that he hadn’t realised how much of an idiot he had been and told you how furiously he was in love with you. But Hawkins wasn’t a fair town, and so it was to be expected.

Joyce rushes forward, wrapping her slender arms around Mike’s shoulders and letting him grasp onto her shirt, heaving sobs bubbling out of his mouth as he tried to stop his throat from constricting, his cheek smooshed against her shoulder almost painfully, but he couldn’t care less. She looked up to Jim, about to ask what on Earth had happened now, but as she caught sight of him pinching the bridge of his nose, his eyes squeezed shut, she decided it was best to just shepherd them inside.

It took Joyce even less time than Hopper expected to find the christmas lights again. She ran scrambling across the living room, her fingers twitching eagerly as she lightly bit her bottom lip, bumping her hip against the flowery chair in the corner before kneeling down next to the suitcase. Jim took deep breaths in, shaking his head in disbelief that the idea the Upside Down was still open, still accessible, and had taken you. His only daughter. And he would march through hell to get you back. Little did he know, that Mike, who had run down with Will and Jonathan into the basement, trying to find a can of paint in the dusty shelves full of old toys and faded school reports, was thinking exactly the same thing.

Shuffling aside a few boxes, rummaging through a few carrier bags, Joyce let out a relieved ‘ah! Here they are!’, before pulling out a small, dinged box.

‘I can’t believe you still have those things.’

As she pulls them out, the frail multicoloured glass rattling in between her small fingertips, she gives Jim a sad, knowing smile, shrugging her shoulders as she murmurs, ‘I kept them for emergencies.’

It took Hopper even less time to hammer them up onto the walls, Mike following his trail by painting black letters onto the wallpaper, much to Jonathan’s internal dismay that they’d have to redecorate the living room, yet again. Mike winced back a little, grimacing at the small flecks that fall onto his fingertips, running down his hand like thick, black, slimy blood, making his stomach drop. He smiled painfully, stepping back and squeezing his eyes shut as the memory ripped through his brain. You had just arrived in Hawkins, it was your first weekend in the dull place, and you had invited Mike over to help decorate your room, not knowing what else to do. He had picked out a soft eggshell blue for your walls, but as the two of you tried to plaster it on, you had just ended up starting a massive paint fight that Jim still hadn’t forgiven you for.

You had figured your heart out long before Mike had understood: a heart Mike had spent years desperately trying to capture, without fully realising that it had always belonged to him. In his mind he was still that scared little boy standing in your blue bedroom, wishing the day would never end. But as he clenched his fists shut, stepping back to gaze at the wall, all he could see was black.

‘Y/n, sweetheart, can you hear me?’, Jim starts.

‘Y/n, if you can hear us, tell us where you are!’, Joyce finishes.

Will moves up to stand by Mike, slight fear in his widening eyes as they gaze up at the wall, before Jim’s head falls in dismay at the silent house.

‘Maybe we’re being redic-’

Before he can even finish, the leftmost red light begins to twinkle lightly, a soft glow that fills the corner of the room in a harsh light. His mouth dropping open slightly, Jim turns back to stare at the wall, the lights that now glow so bright he fears the bulbs may burst now gleaming in his eyes.

‘Joyce, can you spell it out!?’, Jim asks, following the trail with his eyes.

‘R....U....N. Run, Hop, she’s telling us to run!’

‘Y/n where are you!’, Mike shouts, running over to bang his fists against the wall, kicking and kicking against the wood, helpless, wild screams falling from his lips as he ignores the sound of Joyce spelling out the next word.

‘D...A...N...G...E...R. Why are you in danger, sweetie?’

‘N....O....H...I....D...E. N...O...S...A...F...E.’

Mike’s breathing starts to become desperate and heavy as he presses his cheek up against the wall, not caring about the paint that soaks and stains into his skin. All he cares about as the bulbs burst above his head, leaving the room in a darkness that chills the five of them to their bones, is splaying his fingers against the wood and digging in, as if he could reach through and latch himself onto you.

‘I’m sorry, y/n, I’m so sorry.’

Little did he know, that on the other side of that wall, your damp, slime covered cheek was pressed up against it too.

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secretblog1212 · 5 years

Text

Fuck, Marry, Kill.

So this is kind of really shit but I can’t figure out how to make it not shitty so here you go folks. XD sorry. Pretty much more High Steve with Robin just chilling with hints of sad because oof. Not a ship, they just friends.

The store was empty for the first time in three, long, trying, and teenage filled hours. Needless to say Steve and Robin were dead on their feet as they closed up shop.

Robin was quick to lock the doors, and Steve sped threw mopping the ‘poop deck’, otherwise known as the shops front. Chairs were flipped and scoops were washed at record speed. Robin was about to grab her purse when Steve stopped her.

“Hey Rob, I was wondering if you wanted to smoke tonight? We could just throw a movie in or something.”

Well that was new. Not that she didn’t know Steve smoked every now and then, but she’s never been invited before. They had been getting closer over the summer, so it kind of made sense, and hey, if he was going to offer it out for free who was she to say no.

“Sure, just let me go home and change first, meet you at yours in about an hour?”

Steve’s smile was damn near blinding. He nodded along eagerly, and they split off, Robin heading to where her mom was picking her up and Steve to his car.

After five minutes of small talk Robin decided she couldn’t put it off any longer.

“Hey mom, I was wondering if I could hang out at a friends house tonight. They’re having a movie night, I know it’s kind of last minute but I thought it might be okay since I’m off tomorrow anyway.”

She hummed in thought, “Who’s house is it?”

“The boy I work with, Steve, I’ve told you about him before.”

“He won’t try to get in your pants?”

Robin couldn’t hold back her laugh, “Not a chance, he knows I like girls mom.”

The elders face lit up, “Oh of course then Honey, I’ll drop you off whenever your ready and maybe he can take you home tomorrow.” She relented, relaxing back into her seat.

They pulled into their driveway and Robin made quick work of showering and getting comfy close for the night. Clad in sweat pants and an old band t-shirt she threw her still wet hair up in a messy bun and gathered her favorite blanket in a bag. Down stairs her mother was watching the end to the nightly news.

“Ready Mom!”

The brunette turned and did a once over of her daughter. Concluding that she was appropriately dressed for a sleepover she picked her purse up from the coffee table and the two made their way out the door.

A quick drive later and they were pulling into the Harrington’s long driveway, the first floors lights sprinkled to show where exactly Steve was.

Her mom wished her well and Robin made her way to the doorbell. Soft chimes sounded through the house.

The double doors were yanked open to reveal none other than Steve Harrington himself, ushering her inside and waving to her mom as she pulled away.

“Welcome, welcome to the wonderfully cozy Harrington residence. We have two of fifty rooms occupied, my bedroom and the living room, feel free to pick either to get fucked up in.”

Robin eyed the blank walls of the too clean house. It just wasn’t Steve at all, it seemed empty? Lonely? Like some Hallmark mansion, just not realistic at all. Down the hall she could see the flashing glow of a television and pointed. “There.”

“Living room it is then.” Steve hummed with a soft nod. “That’s where I got everything prepared so I was hoping you’d say that.”

God he was a dingus.

There was a large L shaped couch in the middle of the room, a TV facing it against the wall on top of a dresser like stand, and a coffee table littered with snacks, movies, and a few blunts between the two. Given the stack of blankets already pulled out Robin assumed that tonight was going to be filled with warm, cozy cuddling and lazy conversations.

She wasn’t complaining though. She plopped down on the bouncy cushion and reached to flip through the movie choices.

“Anything in mind Harrington?”

“Nothing particular. They’re mostly horror though.”

That raised an eyebrow, hadn’t he already had enough horror in his life already? “You a big fan of horror then?” she asked.

Steve just kind of huffed then chuckled. “My dad says a real man doesn’t watch musicals or romance stuff. He only allows ‘manly’ movies in his house, don’t you want to watch a manly movie Rob?”

Robin just rolled her eyes and mumbled. “Wouldn’t know good movies if it hit him.” But she loved a good horror movie herself, she grabbed the copy of Nightmare on Elms Street and waved it in Steve’s face. “Pop her in then buddy.”

A minute later and they were situating blankets across the two of them as trailers flickered across the screen. Really Robin thought five blankets was a little excessive but Steve seemed to think it was lacking. He leaned forward and grabbed the pre popped popcorn, a lighter, and the first blunt of the night.

Ever the gentleman Steve gave her the first hit. She held it in her mouth, coaxing it down her throat while he took his own puff. After a few seconds she opened her mouth and let the smoke find its own way out, floating from her mouth and into the air like a cloud.

Steve was not as patient or content to see the slow going process, after a few seconds he blew the air out like flames from a dragon's mouth.

They traded it back and forth, watching each other’s different tricks as the drug slowly took effect, till the movie started up, their eyes glued to the screen.

Something Robin realized fairly quickly was that Steve was not a fan of horror movies. She could feel him slowly pressing further against her, flinching when things got too jumpy. She couldn’t blame him, besides if she could help comfort him through this one then she could find at least one happy movie to put in next, right?

After a particularly gruesome scene she decided she couldn’t wait that long. You might be thinking, why doesn’t she just say she wants to change the movie? Well, the thought didn’t even cross her mind. Instead she moves in with a quick distraction.

“That Nancy Thompson is pretty cute right?”

Steve stares up at her for a few seconds before nodding. Hell yeah she was cute.

“And that Glen dude, any character Johnny Depp plays is going to be eye candy.”

“Yeah.”

Good. If she had him talking then he wasn’t paying attention to the movie.

“Quick! Fuck marry kill, Johnny, Nancy girl, or Tina?”

He stuttered for a few seconds, his mind wrapping around the character selection. “Umm, kill Tina, Marry Johnny and fuck Nancy?”

Robin couldn’t help but laugh at how unsure he sounded.

“Hey well how about you?”

“Mmm,” she paused to think. “Kill Johnny, Marry Tina, fuck Nancy.”

The game kept up with characters before moving onto people they knew in real life. “Clair Burk, Tommy H, and Carol.”

Steve huffed long and hard for that one, taking another drag before even contemplating. Robin thought about her own answer as well, Clair was pretty cute, and surely Carol would have some redeeming qualities. Tommy was a nice guy if you caught him around the right people, but prone to violence, she’d have to go with “I’d marry Clair, fuck Carol and kill Tommy.”

Steve actually laughed at that one. “Understandable, understandable. But get this okay. Fuck Tommy, kill Clair, Marry Carol.” He was quick to continue when Robins head jerked to look at him, eyebrows raised. “I’ve known them for a super long time, right? So marry Carol cause we could just act like friends, and like I know you like girls and all but Tommy is kinda cute. He has freckles Rob, freckles. And he’s super strong-“

She stopped him before it could get graphic “Woah woah woah keep it PG, I don’t need a full description of how you’d want him to give it to you.”

They’d cycled through most of the kids in their grade that they both knew by the time the credits started to roll.

Steve sat up and stared her down, excited not unlike a golden retriever.

“Wait wait wait okay okay. So. Watch, sleepover with, or dinner with, kid addition.”

Color her intrigued. She gestured for him to continue. “Okay So Mike, Dustin and Max?”

The kids had grown on her since that night at the Mall, she’s like to think they were all friends. “Okay so watch Max, Sleepover with Dustin and Dinner with Mike.”

Steve burst into laughter.

Fine, if he was going to just laugh at her she’d give him something to laugh at.

Robin turned to face him and reached to grab ahold of his side, squeezing away at the fleshy skin. “Oh your going to laugh at me? Well you have a better idea Dingus?”

Steve’s laughter doubled and his hands grabbed onto her wrists. No matter how hard he tried to squirm to the other side of the couch he was stuck. Their legs had gotten tangled in the many many blankets about an hour ago, and neither had the motivation to unstick themselves.

Boy does he wish he had.

“I was lahaughihing cause mihine is the sahahme! Ihits the sahame.”

Oh. Well, no reason for her to stop. “Yeah, cause Mike's a shithead and gets in trouble, of course it was going to be the same! But now look at you Stevey, Hmm let me think of one.” She slowed down for a second, focusing in on who she would pair up. “How about Lucas, Jane, and Will? I won’t stop tickling you till you answer.”

I Steve kicked out as she moved her way up his ribs, digging between the bone. Somehow he ended up with his back against her, trapping himself.

“Wahahtch Lucas, dineher with Jahanehe, Wihihill sleheep ohover!”

She slowed down her fingers, not quite stopping but changing to fluttery touches that left him giggling.

Steve’s arms felt heavy and all he could think about was the tingling of her nails over his stomach and neck. He let his hands drop into his lap and threw his head back onto Robins shoulder.

“It feheheels weirherd.”

Robin leaned down to his ear to tease the poor boy. “Do you mean it tickles Steve?”

The boy nodded, hiding his blush in the crook of her neck.

“Come on, you can say it buddy. Tick-le, easy peasy.”

Steve burrowed deeper into her neck, hiding himself away from the word.

“Fine,” she huffed. “If you won’t say it then at least tell me that you like it. It’s kind of obvious at this point.”

He only leaned further onto her, probably hoping to disappear.

“Well that just confirmed it Dingus.” She cooed.

She kept up the light touches till Steve’s face had lost some of its pink. He was still squirming occasionally when her fingers strayed a bit to close to his side, and he rolled himself so they were chest to chest.

If she was wondering what kind of stoned Steve would be before she had her answer. He was touchy and clingy when high, and it somehow fit perfectly even with his previous bad boy routine.

His breathing evened out and he was fully slumped against her.

Robin stretched as far as she could for the remote and a bag of chips before laying herself back down. Now that Steve was actually asleep she could try and really watch the movie. What were best friends for if not being a pillow anyway?

#steve harrington #cuddly steve #steve and robin #high steve #robin buckley #high robin #tickles #ler robin #just best friends #stranger things #st #tickle fic #fic

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