something funny about deidara being clowned on by every uchiha he meets but the biggest clownery of them all goes completely without him even noticing. sasuke just wants to get to itachi and itachi wants him to join akatsuki, none of them have anything personal against him but deidara makes this so personal and makes up this huge rivalry arch nemesis relationship w them meanwhile the Actual malicious clownery comes from somewhere completely else. his own partner tobi. another uchiha LOL. he is the only one who does actually wish him harm but deidara just thinks of him as his annoying partner and even apologizes to him before blowing himself up. meanwhile obito probably thinks it is fucking hilarious to watch him lose against sasuke and rage kill himself

𖨆. 06 / all for us

summary: you wake up in your room, and you can’t help but try again. even if you might meet a strange doctor and their assistant.

note: another dark chapter. please read the warnings.

taglist: @voltairelesecond @baelo80 @the-sun-baby @stupid-stinky @uniquepickle @ascybous @messyhairday-me @saturnalya @megumitodoroki @kouyume

word count: +2.5k

warnings/notes: cursing, mentions of self harm, mentions of suicide attempt, blood, suicidal thoughts, panic attack, suicide attempt, medical inaccuracies, a little graphic detail of glass being pulled from skin

YOU'RE disappointed whenever you awaken from your temporary slumber. you were sure that you were close to death with that blade on your vein, but it turns out you were wrong. well, that's what you think until you look at your arm.

each one of the cuts is stitched up neatly while the bandages trying to wrap around them are loose. you sit up while inspecting some of the bloodied bandages on your hand, must've been from whenever you broke the mirror.

you sigh sleepily, staring at the bedroom door in hopes that someone will come entertain you even just for a moment. luckily, your wish is granted whenever you watch erwin slip into the door silently.

he's trying to be silent, that much is obvious by how he's not wearing any shoes and instead socks along with him shutting the door gently. he turns to you, flinching at how your eyes bore into his head even as you lay down.

"you're awake it seems," he smiles and sits on the edge of the bed, large hand caressing your pale cheeks.

you start to sit up only to be fussed at by erwin, who softly shoves you back against the bed.

"how am i still alive," you stare into the ceiling.

"when you passed out, we managed to get ahold of our friend that's a doctor," of fucking course. of course they'd have a doctor friend, how the fuck else would they get roofies?!

"when can i get out of bed," you lay your hands on the collar around your neck.

"tomorrow, we didn't expect you to wake up today."

"how long have i been dead for?"

"an incorrect term to describe you, however you've been out for a day. our friend told us with your mental struggles it might take longer for you to wake up," he sighs and rolls his head while a gentle smile forms on his face.

"can you turn on a show for me? don't care what," you look to the ceiling fan.

"of course," erwin says in slight concern. he'd expected you to, at the least, shed some tears, whether it be from happiness or sadness. but you weren't reacting at all.

"you know.... when i was younger people didn't like me," you sigh, "but i was okay with it. as long as i didn't get hurt, i didn't care all that much."

"why are you telling me this?"

ignoring him, you let out a small and bitter chuckle, "when i got into high school, i made friends with a boy who had a twin brother. his name was marcel, he was so sweet and kind.

"he's dead now. it tore his brother apart, i'd never seen porco in that much pain before."

mistakenly, erwin ponders, "how did he pass?"

it's the first time you turn your head to stare at him with those dead fish eyes of your's. you looked almost sinister as you burned holes into erwin's head.

"suicide."

erwin left your room with stiff shoulders that night.

————

two days later, you're standing to look at yourself in the bathroom mirror. you're surprised they didn't take the glass away from you, but you're sure it's for brushing your teeth or something.

as you stare at yourself, you allow your shoulders to shake as they hold up your arms leaning on the sink.

you wonder what your friends would say at seeing you like this. so desperate to get out that you're willing throw away everything you have just to get it.

there's an itch at the back of your mind, festering up against the walls over your brain.

'they'd think you look pathetic,' the itch, now a voice, whispers.

"porco wouldn't," you whimper. porco's been through this process before, he gets it, he understands. right?

'marcel died by his own hands in order to cleanse himself from his sadness. he'd look down upon you for comparing this to his case,' you squeeze your eyes shut and put your hands over your ears.

"pieck wouldn't. she's by my side forever," you sob.

'pieck fought with you before your disappearance. she called you a fuck-up. look at yourself, you'll find that she's right,' and with bated breath you look up.

you sob, shooting your arm back that's clenched into a fist. you punch the glass, which flies all onto your arm and hand. you storm out of your bathroom in fear, stumbling as you look at the stool used for your vanity.

you take it hastily, setting it up the ceiling fan and standing on it. with rushed movements, you wrap the chain connecting with the metal collar around the base of the fan. you step off of the stool, kicking it away with your foot while you choke.

you're starting to black out when you see levi run in with erwin, and you pray to the heavens that you'll wake up in hell.

————

once again, you're disappointed. you whimper weakly while crying, you just wanted to die. you don't want to be trapped in here anymore, you just want to escape.

your throat burns. and before you can try to test your voice, someone's unlocking the door while letting out an almost wicked laugh.

the door swings open to reveal a person, who's long brown hair is pulled into a messy ponytail and wearing circled glasses on their face along with an eyepatch. behind them follows a much meeker man, one that's reprimanding their actions as they shout loudly in excitement at the realization that you're awake.

"moblit!! she's already awake," the person hoots to the man behind them, who you're going to assume is moblit.

"i can see that hanji! now, quiet down! you're probably scaring her," moblit scolds the person named hanji, who ignores the warnings.

"hello, my darling~! i'm your doctor, hanji zoë but feel free to call me hanji! do you have any recollection of what happened," they sing excitedly, shoving their face close to you.

you nod nervously, who the fuck was this person.

"i apologize for their behavior, they act almost as a dog," moblit emphasizes while pulling hanji away by their shoulder.

"we came to see if you sustained anymore damage onto your body besides your neck," he looks you over.

you hold up your hand, smeared with your dry blood. hanji gently takes it into their hands, frowning deeply at what they see.

"get my tweezers for me, moblit. she's still got some tiny pieces of glass in the wounds. i'm sure that's why you were hurting so bad before we came in, huh," hanji attaches a magnifying glass to their glasses while slipping on medical gloves. you'd just woken up, but you weren't gonna tell them that.

moblit hands them a tray along with tweezers, not to mention hydrogen peroxide.

"tisk tisk! that shorty and eyebrows really don't know how to put hydrogen peroxide in! losers," they cackle at the end, which has moblit slapping a hand down onto their shoulder.

"alright alright!" they smack it away, taking your hand—palm faced down—gently while adjusting their magnifying glass.

you scream as they start to pull out a piece of glass, not exactly expecting them to be either big or long. you sit up on your elbow to look, you don't exactly trust this person.

your scream has levi and erwin bursting in the door just as hanji pulls out a smaller piece of glass, that they had to dig a bit for and it made you cry.

"what'd you do?! what are you doing?!" levi bombards while erwin rushes to your side.

"well, i'm trying to concentrate on getting some of this glass out of her skin. unless you want it to get infected, i'm going to continue. it just hurts," hanji says in frustration, bringing your hand closer to their face.

"oh, thank god," erwin sighs in relief but immediately jumps at the sound of your teary shout.

"it's okay, you'll be okay," he reassures, wiping a tear away with his thumb.

bursting with slight anger and immense pain, you snap at him, "don't you think i know that?! it just hurts!!"

both erwin and levi look shocked at your outburst just as you hiss in pain again.

sighing, hanji looks at you, "okay, i saved this one for last since it'll be the most painful to get out."

"just get it over with," you sob, squeezing your free and bandaged hand into a fist.

you knew it was going to hurt, they'd just told you. however, you didn't realize that somehow a piece of glass managed to get stuck in the wound with one side of it being lunged under unharmed skin. it was like trying to get out one paper out of a stack.

you scream again, letting yourself fall onto your back again and swinging your arm over your eyes. biting your lip, you breathe heavy with shaky sobs.

"this is worse than giving birth," you cry.

"it's definitely comparable," hanji humors you while they poke at the glass.

it makes you chuckle a little, considering they're the one putting you through this.

whenever they pull the piece of glass out, it feels like an immense weight has been taken off you as you relax your body. you hiss at the hydrogen peroxide, but it's much better than the pulling of the glass. you reach up to your collar, only to realize that they've detached the chain connecting to it.

you're frustrated, even more so whenever hanji pulls away from you and acts like this is a totally normal occurrence. you're kidnapped for god's sake, shouldn't they be calling the police?

you let your eyes wander around the room, and when they set on levi, you tense. you scoot away from erwin, since he's on the same side of the bed as him, and place yourself at the edge of the bed.

"alright, we need to talk to you about some things," erwin brushes some of your hair behind your ear, completely ignoring your fear of levi.

"first things first, you can't be trusted alone," levi grunts and leans against the wall with his arms crossed.

"which means, you'll be spending time with levi during the day until i get home or if i request to see you," erwin cautiously and slowly says.

your eyes widen while they shoot between levi and erwin, absolute fear swarming your body.

"i only hit you whenever you disobey," he scoffs, "i believe pain is the best way to teach someone a lesson."

"he won't hurt you unless you give him a reason to," erwin tells you reassuringly. it doesn't work well.

"please, don't hurt me. i'll be good, just don't hurt me," you croak while looking to levi, who softens a bit at the statement.

"don't worry then," he nods, "now go back to sleep. i'm sure you're tired after all that screaming. you'll be with me at eight in the morning."

you nod, shakily grabbing ahold of the remote on your bed and turning your tv on. levi slips out of the room without a word while erwin stays back.

"good night, my love. get some rest," he whispers, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

you hum in response, scrolling through the selection of movies on the netflix account levi and erwin provided for you. you choose a rom-com movie, seeing as you don't actually plan on staying up just to watch it.

you turn onto your side and close your eyes.

and for the first time, you rest easy.

the next morning, levi leads you through the home by hooking his pinky with your's. you were slightly thankful at the gesture. he knew that you were nowhere ready to be fully touched by him and that you weren't allowed to leave his side.

you sit on the love seat in his office, shyly taking the tv remote from his hands when he offers.

"watch anything, just don't turn it up too loud," he sits at his chair with a sigh as you scroll through movies on hulu.

you choose the movie footloose while you get comfortable on the couch. you try to ignore the small shivers running up and down your body as you're not covered up with a blanket.

you glance over to one of the bookshelves levi has up against the wall, trying to find if levi had any good reads. but before you could read the titles printed on the spines, a certain book that poked out from behind the others caught your eye.

'memories' the fraying writing was a messy cursive on the spine, something you assume levi wrote.

you get yourself lost in thought while staring at the bookshelf. if the book was in levi's office and in levi's handwriting, that means it has to be a scrapbook. and that it's levi's.

your eyes shine at the realization, but you try not to let it show. you'll wait for levi to get the two of you lunch before you'll look at it.

and so, you wait with patience. it seems so grueling as the time passes and you switch from movie to movie, but you hope it'll be worth it in the end. you hope that it explains why levi is the way he is.

"i'm going to make our lunch. the door's lock behind me since it's a keypad. stay put," levi says with slight annoyance, walking out of the room grumpily.

at the sound of the door locking, you jump to your feet and race to the bookshelf. you carefully pull the book out of its place, immediately flipping it open to the first page.

and there levi was, in all of his glory. levi was a baby in the photo, closed eyes and a peaceful look on his face as he curled into himself.

turning the page, you almost gasp at the image you see. levi's being fed by a gorgeous woman, who you can only assume is his mother. the next picture on the page shows levi wearing raggedy clothes with greasy hair shining in the sun as he crouched to hold stare disgustedly at a bug on his finger.

it made you giggle, but the next photo made you frown. levi, who looked to be at the age of five, was standing next to an older man with a casket behind them. you look at the note written under it.

'mom's funeral,' it reads, and you feel an immense amount of pity.

the next picture is a picture of levi at the age of seven standing in front of a beat up school with dirty and ripped clothing. his hair is long enough to be a mullet in this and his body looks so frail compared to now. levi's face shows not a hint of emotion, instead his eyes stare right through the camera and back at your's.

you jump whenever a book on the shelf falls onto its side. you hiss while rushing to put it back up, and as soon as you do, one from the top shelf falls onto the ground somehow. you hurriedly grab it and reach up to it on your tip toes, but you're barely able to reach.

you curse while you use the bottom of the bookshelf as a stool, not even realizing just how old this thing seemed and how much you weighed.

you sigh in relief whenever it doesn't fall down, it only wobbles a little as you step back onto the ground. you go to put the scrapbook away, but you notice that the stand hasn't stopped wobbling. it wobbles almost hauntingly back and forth, and that's when you realize it's going to fall on top of you.

you gasp while dashing to the floor while you slide out of the way, not even realizing that the scrapbook was being bricked by your arms holding it to your chest.

you cringe at the loud bang it makes as it falls, but the cringe turns to fear whenever you hear the pounding footsteps of levi.

you can't get up on your feet quick enough as he bursts through the door. his eyes dart to you on the floor and then back to the fallen bookshelf.

"what did you fucking do?! are you that stupid?!!" this has to be the loudest you've ever heard levi speak, and it makes you nervous.

tears well up in your eyes as you stare at him, completely petrified at how you might be beaten once more.

you hope levi spares you, just this once.

Ok so,, I'm not sure if this should be two separate asks but here goes - headcanon/scenario where a reader who has never really worked out her feelings crudely and unfiltered confesses to bakugou? How would he react? Does he know or have feelings for her too? Are they both super awkward or does he take the lead? Reader is a bit tsun and considers him a huge jerk so is really confused at how she also finds him hot. Possible scenario is during/after combat training? Much thankies :3

Enjoy!! I really liked this one and you hope you like what ive done with it. It turned out a bit long. Oops - Bomb

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Warm sun crashed down onto the training ground, pounding your skin with hot rays that forced your body to sweat. The drops flowed down your cheeks, dancing as the wind knocked them around, making them split and converge with each other till they reached your chin or the tip of your nose where they would drip onto the hard ground.

It sucked to be absolutely honest. The heat was draining as you were forced to move around, dodging massive explosions from a particularly angry training partner. His screams of irritation for you to fight him or die trying bounced off the buildings and into your ears, but they were barely processed in your head.

Bakugou Katsuki. Known asshole to all, a friend of very few, a lover to none. A relentless jerk who constantly bullied his classmates and his supposed childhood best friend. A boy who doesn't even bother to remember the names of those he may be working with in the future. An absolute dick.

He royally pisses you off. He saunters around school without a single care for those he bumps into like he's the best thing this school was graced with. 

And yet. He was extremely attractive. That can be seen by anyone. A strong body structure with an equally sharp face to pair with it. His muscles were extremely toned for a high schooler, and jaw line so incredibly sharp you might as well be able to get a paper cut on it. Skin clear of any blemishes with an ever so slight tan to compliment it.

He was incredibly hot. If only he had a personality to match. Though by the permanent scowl that was imprinted onto his face, you guess it was only expected that he was not very friendly.

You hated him.

So why was it that this asshole could make your stomach flutter, your heart palpitate, and get your cheeks to become a rosy pink whenever he talked to you?!

The scowl that had unknowingly made it onto your face became even more defined. A growl emanating from your throat as you dodged yet another attack thrown at you by the blond, just barely escaping with no more than a graze from a surprised attack from his other hand.

He had no qualms with beating the shit out of anyone he came across to prove his point that he was the top dog, no matter their size or gender. 

You hated how completely admirable it was.

Bakugou let out an angry yell, "Why aren't you fighting me?! Stop fucking dodging me!"

You gave into his request, and landed on all fours, unleashing your quirk. Your vocal cords twisted and lengthened, and you unleashed a powerful roar similar to that of a lion. The sound waves combined with the wind from your voice sent a swirling mass of wind that flew up several thin layers of dust and debris that had collected on the ground. Even a few whole rocks were picked up and flew directly at Bakugou, surprising him.

Truth be told he didn't expect you to obey immediately, and that was a miscalculation that ended in him getting flown back a few feet back. He barely had time to fix his standing on the uneven ground before you came out from the swirling wind, spinning towards him and sending a powerful punch directly into what you assumed was close to his gut.

However you were slow to react to an explosion he let off on your arm that had connected with him, and got burned pretty badly as he was sent flying. A short yell of pain erupted from your throat that sounded similar to the roar from before, your vocal cords not yet going back to the size of a humans. A few more seconds and they would be back to normal. 

The burn on your arm pounded with every beat of your heart, heat radiating off of it from the explosion. Your skin was smoking and the scent of burning flesh filled your nostrils. 

Rage filled your heart as you stared at it, but not because it hurt (even though it did), but because of the fact that he was just so quick thinking. You never would have thought to counteract that, not that you had the reaction time to do so. It was one more thing you admired about him that sent your heart racing whenever you watched him fight. 

You howled in rage in your head. He was so unbelievably admirable and yet such a pain in the fucking ass!

He used this time you were staring at your wound to blast back towards you from wherever he landed and recovered from and taking hold of your neck, pushing you harshly back into a building wall.

"So now you decide to fight back huh?! After avoiding my attacks like a scaredy cat-"

"I am not a scaredy cat you asshole!" You grabbed hold of his arm and hooked your leg under his own and pulled, simultaneously twisting your body and sending him underneath you. 

You could feel the dam of your feelings breaking with every violent touch you inflicted on each other. It seemed you both were venting your anger today. But what the hell was he angry about that he had to take it out on you for?!

"Don't you EVER assume you know how I'm feeling!" The first crack in your dam caused the emotional water behind it to spurt out, the words tumbling from your mouth. Your grip tightened on the collar of his hero outfit, a mix of rage and overwhelming sorrow filled your expression. "You don't know the first thing about what I feel towards you!"

Bakugou didn't expect such an emotional expression to decorate your face. In truth, it surprised him, and he hated the way it made both his heart and his stomach hurt. He was about to retaliate when you began to speak once more.

"I hate you so much! You're such an asshole to everybody! Even your childhood friend if you can even call him that!" You could feel his muscles stiffen at the obvious reference to Deku. "But I admire you in almost every way that I hate you and it makes me sick! I hate how I want to spend more time with you each and every day despite how I know you feel about me!" 

Everything was coming out, you couldn't cry and yet you felt an awful need to. You hated this. Why were you feeling this way?

A sudden slam to your back brought you back to reality. Bakugou had flipped you over, putting both his hands on either side of your head.

"Dont be a hypocrite and assume that you know how I feel about you dumbass! Have you jot fucking realized that I feel the same?! How could you be so smart and top of the line and yet so unbelievably dumb as well?! I feel the same way you do and it also pisses me off!"

You were stunned. He felt the same? What did that mean? How were you supposed to make sense of and know if that's a good thing if you didn't even know what the feelings meant!

And then it suddenly hit you like a truck. You liked him. You had a crush on him. And he had a crush on you too. You both liked each other. And it pissed the both of you off.

Good god you were so dumb.

"Fuck." You whispered. You did not have the mental capacity to deal with this.

"I quit! I tap out!" You yelled, pushing the blond off you with every ounce of strength you had, your adrenaline starting to wear off and the wound on your arm was finally starting to process in your head. You hissed in pain as you held your forearm to your chest and to your heart, trying to hide both of them from the outside world.

"What?! You can't just tap out loser! Come back here and fight me!!" And yelled, going up and grabbing your shoulder, but you slapped it away.

"If you hadn't noticed, baka, I don't want to fight you! Not after realizing I like you! You don't realize how much that hurts, do you?! Take a hint!" You roared at him twirling around, not actually angry but more than a bit defensive.

There was silence behind you for a few seconds as you walked back to the school, hoping to get first aid, until you heard footsteps catch up to you and walk beside you, a gasp escaping your lips when you felt something brush against your hand.

"Dumbass." he grumbled. "Assuming what I'm feeling again." Was all he said as he walked close to you, sticking by your side the rest of the walk back, his pinky curled around your own in a small display of affection. Your heart beat fast, and a blush showed upon your cheeks. You looked the opposite direction.

"Dummy"

Richie Tozier x Reader: 27 Years Later... Revamped!

You heard it here folks! I’ve updated my big Richie x Reader post to be more inclusive! The reader is now gender neutral instead of female, and I’ve mixed elements from the book and the new movie IT chapter 2! warning, i am a book purist so there are some plot elements from the book that do not occur in the movie! Enjoy!

-Growing up, you had always been Stan’s. You’d be each other’s go-to people, sometimes even closer than Richie and Eddie. He had been your perfect Boy Scout crush growing up, and after the first encounter with IT, he decided he couldn’t dance around his feelings any longer and asked you out.

-You always felt like the loser on the “outside”, you were at all group hang outs and meetings but you didn’t really hang out with anyone but Stan besides the occasional sleepover with Bev, but after Stan’s bar mitzvah that changed. Richie was the only loser to attend (besides you) and that meant a great deal to you. Despite how Stan used to get annoyed at Richie’s jokes, you always made sure to go out of your way to include him and befriend him after that day.

-Even though the losers drifted during high school, you remained Stan’s partner and Richie’s best friend besides Eddie. You had a lot more in common with Richie than you had originally thought because both of you essentially had to raise yourselves. Stan found a new found respect for the fellow loser over this connection you had.

-Stan was your first everything, from kisses to heartbreak. Yes, heartbreak. You broke up the summer before college. You were going out to California for school on an honours program and he was going to a university in Georgia with his twin sister. It was practical but it didn’t mean it didn’t sting either of you. You had promised to remain on good terms, however.

-Despite him moving on in Georgia, you never really did. He after college quickly married a woman named Patricia and settled in Atlanta. You met back up with Richie after graduation, and moved into a townhouse with him in Beverly Hills. Despite dating around, you never had much luck, probably thanks to your loud tall housemate.

-You and Richie actually flew out to Stan’s wedding, and while your first love was gone, there were no ill feelings from either of you. You shared a dance with him at the reception and told him how much you approved of his new wife. It meant a lot to him.

-After the wedding, you start to drift from Stan. Soon you don’t hear from each other at all. Richie was the only loser left for you.

-As much as he hated to say it, Richie saw this as his opportunity. You see, he had cared about you since the bar mitzvah. He knew there was someone he loved, but he couldn’t remember who. He guessed because he remembered you so vividly and nothing else, it had to be you. He was respectful of Stan and you, so he had never said anything and kept his distance. With Stan married, and Richie as your roommate (and secretly ruining most of your dates, whether he meant to or not) you were free, and he could hope you’d somehow feel the same.

-You and Richie live it up in Beverly Hills, networking and working side by side; going to celebrity parties and drinking with the big wigs.

-You’ve been tipsy and kissed at these parties, always to fend off unwanted company. It became the perfect cover and a casual display of affection for your closest friend. Despite it being a defence, you once kissed in a taxi after leaving one of these parties. It was a deep and long kiss, and there was no audience for it to be necessary, but it was never spoke of again.

-You became a writer on a semi popular TV series and Richie became a stand up comedian. While you hadn’t gone to school for writing, Richie had encouraged you to go for the job. You had always been good at writing, even minoring in it during college. He helped you prepare and edit scripts. He would even act out scenes in his famous impressions.

-Things were going so well, until one day Mike Hanlon calls. At first, you don’t even remember him until he calls you your old childhood nickname. You have to go back to Derry. IT is back.

-The plane ride is long, and both you and Richie decide to knock a few back in the airport bar and sleep it off on the flight. When you wake up at landing, your head is in the hollow of where his neck and shoulder meet and his arm is around you. Your hands are interlaced. Sure, the two of you had shared beds on road trips and when you’d travel for job auditions, but you had never really snuggled like this. You’re both blushing messes when you get to baggage claim.

-When you finally get back in town, you head straight to the Chinese restaurant in town in the car Richie rents. You recognise everyone immediately, embracing each of them with warmth and love... except for Stan who is nowhere to be seen. Mike assures you that he had contacted him.

-Despite his absence, you all enjoy dinner. You notice Bev and Bill still carry torches for one another after all these years. Ben looks amazing and seems very successful. Mike is even wiser than he was when you were all young. Eddie is still just as hyper and fun to talk to.

-After the meal, you all head off from the restaurant to talk strategy. On the walk out of the building, Bev pulls you back to walk and talk with her. It’s as if nothing has changed and you’re having a sleepover again. She specifically asks if you and Richie are a couple. When you deny this, she laughs and says that’s insane because of how you seem so in love with one another.

-You’d never say it, but you had imagined a life with Richie before. You can’t really be roommates with someone you have such a bond with without thinking of these things. But late at night when you can’t sleep you think about how nice it would be to have his arms around you, pressed into his lean and warm chest. There have been times when he’s brought people back, and he has a type in the people he brings home. A lot of them either share your name, or Eddie’s. You realize this isn’t a coincidence that you’d hear him calling out these names. Tozier sounded like a nice title to gain. It would be fun to see his last name, even hyphenated, on yours in any of your writing credits. But you’re snapped out of your thoughts the second Bev gets through on the line she’s trying to reach Stan at.

-Patricia was on the line; she said Stan had slit his wrists in the bathtub just an hour earlier. IT had been written on the wall in his blood. This makes your blood run cold. You can’t even react for a good five minutes even though everyone is watching you very carefully.

-The day you had all made that blood pact, Stan had made an off handed joke about slitting your wrists instead of just your hands. It had made you uncomfortable then, but scares the shit out of you now.

-When you finally do react, it’s like your whole world crumbles. You think you might be screaming, you know you’re definitely crying. You don’t even realize you’ve fled past all of the other losers cars until Richie’s arms are around you and he’s pressing you close to him on the curb.

-He let’s you scream it out, let’s you dig your nails into his skin until he bleeds, let’s you soak his nice dress shirt with tears and spit. Anything to comfort you and be close to you. This is the most thankful you’ve ever been for Richard Tozier.

-When you’ve stopped crying, there’s a newfound hate in your heart. You’re going to kill IT and it’s never going to hurt anyone ever again. You vow to avenge Stanley Uris. The group can’t disagree, even though half of them want to run. You all vow that before tomorrow is over, the clown will die.

-Richie and Eddie tell you how much they want to leave, and they try to get you to leave as well. But between your need for vengeance and Bill and Mike’s ranting about a strategy to kill IT, they don’t end up leaving town. That night, you can’t sleep. You aren’t sure how, maybe it’s a trick of IT’s illusions, but somehow you end up in Richie’s bed. It’s restless and you’re both terrified, but you cling together in solidarity and something stronger than lifelong friendship. But by the time he wakes you’re gone already, looking for your token to burn.

-You find it in the clubhouse, hidden behind one of the wooden boards nailed to the floor. It’s the little paper program from Stan’s bar mitzvah. An important day that quite literally changed your whole life.

-Upon returning to the townhouse, you find It nearly empty, with Eddie patching up a hole in his face. He’s mumbling something about the library while he’s finishing sanitizing his wound, so that’s where the two of you head when he’s done.

-Richie is shaken after killing Bowers, and now it’s your turn to comfort him. He shakes as you slip your arm around his, guiding him as he walks. Your other hand squeezes his bicep every few minutes to remind him to breathe. You’re here, and you’ve got him. It helps.

-Returning to Neibolt fills you with all of the memories you’d struggled to remember the day before. All of the fear and isolation of your childhood filled you so completely that you thought you could be sick. But you enter anyway, nausea and all.

-seeing IT take the form of Stan’s body is what does it for you though. You’re doubled over vomiting and crying, your hands sting against the broken glass and splinters on the floor. You’re only half aware of the chaos going around you until Richie kicks what you can only describe as a spider with Stan’s head and razor sharp teeth away from you. And then everything is so horrifyingly clear. This is only the beginning; it will get worse. When the head spider attacks Richie, you try to pull it off of him, but you aren’t strong enough. It’s up to Eddie, but Eddie is frozen.

-Down in the sewers is even worse. The fight takes a larger toll on all of you than expected. Eddie finally abandons all of the fear he cling to his entire life and charged head first into the fight, only to be stabbed through the torso and not get back up. You’re bloodied by one of IT’s claws, your wrist probably broken and one of your legs is in agony, so much so that you have to fight to stand while dodging the giant spider monster in it’s true form. All of you are injured in some way but team work weakens the creature.

-ripping out IT’s heart and destroying it should have been the end of all of the horror, and at first you think it is. You’re all relieved, until you notice Eddie hasn’t gotten up. Eddie and Richie had always had a special bond. You knew this better than anyone. He was the first one to Eddie’s side and held him as he tried to get him to respond.

-Eddie Kaspbrak is dead, and you can feel Richie’s heart breaking beside you. You hold his hand as he goes, and the rest of the losers hold each other. Richie presses a long kiss to his face, finally allowing tears to fall for the first time in the lifetime you’ve known him. It hurts even more knowing you can’t carry his body out of this place.

-As you leave the sewers, something changes. It’s as if the curse on you all has finally been lifted. You know you all have to go back to real life and finally live without fear, but fear is all any of you have ever known. The water of the quarry is healing to all of you, in the physical case of soothing aching muscles, and spiritually. It’s a rebirth.

-Richie cries again in the water, and you all come together to hold him. Under the water you feel a hand grasp yours, and you don’t even have to open your eyes to know that it’s Richies hand.

-Much to yours, and i think everyone’s surprise, Bev leaves with Ben. You could have sworn you heard her going at it with Bill the other night. Bill stays in town another week to recover before leaving and starting to work on his next novel. Mike resumes his life without the burden of watching Derry for ITs return, even more wise than he ever had been. You and Richie were another story.

-The second he saw you bleed in the sewer, he had gone berserk. Nothing else had mattered in that moment but destroying the thing that hurt you and Eddie. He knew after that he couldn’t ignore his feelings any longer. If his past love was gone, he had to pursue his future.

-He is uncharacteristically quiet on the way to the airport, and without speaking you know why. You’re all each other has now.

-He parks, gets out, walks around and opens the car door for you. Before you can reach for your suitcase, he reaches for you. The kiss is sobering yet intoxicating all at the same time. His hands rake through your hair and your arms rise up and wrap around his neck. The only reason to stop is the lack of oxygen that leaves you both dizzy. For once in your life, neither of you need to talk to be heard.

-The flight home feels weightless. You’re joking and lighthearted and giddy. If you weren’t as clear minded you could have sworn there was music in the air.

-When you arrive home, you decide to convert one of your bedrooms into a guest room. Stan’s letter to you both is framed in the living room. For once, you fall asleep peacefully. You fall asleep next to your best friend, your soulmate.

——————

Request anything you’d like to see! My ask box is open!

Fears of the Past ch 5

Major It ch 2 spoilers

AU

I’m back y’all

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

Walking to Neibolt this time around felt like you were walking on broken glass. You remember having nightmares for weeks and your dad having to console you almost every night. It was nothing compared to what happened to Stan or Bev however. You could feel Stan tense as you walked down Neibolt street and then he just stopped and stared at the house on the corner.

“Guys, I-I don’t think I can do this,” he shook his head and you saw a tear fall down his cheek- “I can't go back there, I’m sorry I can’t.”

“We’re all gonna be right there with you, I promise Stan.” Richie put a hand on his shoulder and Stan sighed.

“You’re brave, Stanley Uris, don’t you ever forget,” you whispered to him, wiping his tears and he nodded. Richie clapped his shoulder again and you made your way to the Neibolt house just as Bill approached the door.

“N-no guys, I h-have to do this a-alone, I got you into this mess in the f-first place because I needed to find G-Georgie,” Bill turned around and his shoulders slumped because he still blamed himself. Bev picked up an old iron bar from the fence,

“Well we aren’t leaving you now, losers stick together.” Bev gripped the bar tightly on her hand and no one moved. Bill sighed and nodded.

“Is anyone gonna say anything?” Eddie looked around.

“Richie said it best last time.” Bill looked toward and so did everyone else.

“I did? Uh I don’t wanna die?,” Bill shook his head- “It’s a good thing we aren’t measuring dicks?”

“Beep beep Richie,” you sighed in disgust and he stuck his tongue out at you.

“Let’s kill this fucking clown?” Bill nodded proudly and Richie straightened out and repeated with a deadly tone,

“Let’s kill this fucking clown.”

***

Following behind Eddie with Stan right behind you, gripping your hand for dear life, you all entered the house with a shudder. It was still as gross and dank as you remembered, You followed Eddie, who has followed Bill and Richie into the old kitchen that led to the basement.

All of a sudden Ben starts screaming in pain and the door between the kitchen and the front room is slammed shut. You banged on the door but it wouldn’t budge and then the fridge started shaking. You backed away from the door and close to the corner of the room as the fridge opened,

“No, no how could you.”

You recognized the twisted and mangled body as your mother. You shake your head, refusing to believe what you were seeing. To make matters worse, the body screamed and it’s head rolled off.

“Y/n, my love, oh how you’ve grown,” you let out choked sobs as your friends just stared at it.

“What’s happening to me, Y/n? Help me,” it started sprouting what looked like spider legs from the side of its face and it started laughing. It ran toward you and you moved out of the way as Bill tried hitting it with a piece of wood. You ran towards Stan and Richie, Eddie standing in a corner.

“Eddie? Are you okay?” Richie approaches him.

“Yeah I’m-” a string of drool fell between them and you all looked up to find the spider head. It launched itself at you but Richie pushed you out of the way and it attacked him instead. Eddie didn’t move, Bill jumped on Richie, trying to pull it off him and you lay stunned on the ground, Stan picking up a knife and stabbing the creature.

The door opens and the others walk in, Ben keeping a hand on the side of his stomach and the creature rolling down into the basement. Stan drops the knife immediately, reaching out to Richie but Richie pushes him towards you. Stan gets you off the floor and holds you for a moment, Bev running in handing Richie her sweater to wipe his face,

“Eddie! Are you kidding me?! Richie could’ve fucking died!!” Bill screamed at Eddie, who hadn’t moved from the corner.

“I’m sorry Bill, I was just scared,” Eddie breathes out shakily.

“I’m sorry Eds, I-I’m not mad at you. I j-just want everyone to be s-safe, I can’t lose anyone else t-today, Bill loosened up and pats his shoulder. Everyone joins in the room, looking to Richie, you, and Eddie to make sure you’re okay. Then you all look to the basement, standing proudly, together again to finally defeat IT.

***

“Ugh grey water, I definitely didn’t miss this,” Richie jumps into the sewer, complaining.

“Wow are you kidding me? I told you how gross this fucking water was last time!” Stan rolled his eyes, jumping into the shitty water after him.

“I knew it was disgusting! But I was dedicated to messing with you Stanny!” He splashes water at Richie who dramatically gasps, splashing some back,

“BOYS!” You yell like an annoyed mother.

“Sorry Y/n…” they say in unison, you laugh and continue wading through the sewers. You all come upon the cistern and start climbing up on the old circus cart. Then you heard bubbling up from the water and Bev screaming,

“TIME TO SINK” Bev was pulled down and everyone jumped in the water, except Eddie and you. Eddie held you back and you look back at him confused.

“I didn’t want to stay up here alone, I’m too scared.” He looks down at the water and you grab his hand,

“Eds, you’re not a coward. It’s okay to be scared, I’m scared too.” You smile softly and he nods and you both look back at the water. 6 heads pop out of the water and you all climb back up the cart.

***

“That doesn’t seem safe,” you looked down the uncovered hole in the ground with jagged edges.

Mike shrugs and starts climbing down followed by Bill, Ben, and Stan. Eddie refuses.

“Eds I promise we’ll be okay.” Bev hands him the rod she was holding and heads down followed by you and eventually Richie and Eddie.

You all squeeze through a narrow passage to find huge ragged spikes poking up from the ground. Entering the middle of it, Mike puts down the artifact he told you all about, for the ritual and adds a flame.

“Okay now we put in our tokens.” Mike points to the artifact on the ground. Bill puts in Georgie’s boat, Bev puts in her postcard, Ben a yearbook page, Eddie’s inhaler, Richie’s arcade token, Stan’s bird book, your diary which made your heart clench as you drop it in the fire, and Mike finally puts a rock in from the rock war with the Bowers gang.

He tells you all to chant, join hands, and close your eyes as to not look into the deadlights. You all chant, not really knowing what the hell is going on. So you decide to take a peak, one small peak and then everything goes dark.

There’s blood and crying and more screaming, Eddie was on the ground. Everyone, every single loser lay dead before you and you couldn’t move or scream no matter how hard you tried. You felt something wrap around your throat but you only saw the same thing; your friends dying and you couldn’t do anything.

***

You found yourself on the uneven ground of the cavern, propping yourself up on your elbows, you found your friends hiding behind the jagged spikes while Pennywise appeared larger than life with claws, like a crab.

“Y/n!! Jesus Christ are you okay?!” Mike crouches down beside you, helping you up carefully.

“I’m fine, what happened?” He sighs and tells you he lied about the ritual because the Natives that tried before, died. You had gotten caught in the deadlights while Pennywise started choking you. Bill threw rocks at IT and you were dropped on the ground, Stan and Mike pulling you aside.

“Are you and Stan a couple again?” Mike chuckled and you cocked your head- “he kissed you, that’s how we woke you up.”

“Oh. Y-yeah I guess. Wait is everyone okay? No one- one is?”

“We’re all here I promise you, I wouldn’t let anything happen. I’ve waited too long to kill this son of a bitch to let that happen,” you smile at him, grabbing his hand and joining the others. You find Stan, who hugs you quickly and drags you to another cave within the cavern itself.

Not even given a second to breathe until you two were separated by a rock wall and suddenly you were back at home. You weren’t alone however; Richie, Stan, and Bev were around your bed and Stan was holding your diary wide open. He looked up at you and laughed,

“You’re bisexual now? Wow is that just a grab for attention? This is sad Y/n and to think I actually had feelings for you,” he dropped the diary on the ground and walked towards you and you couldn’t breathe.

“Bisexuality isn’t real! I confided in you only for you to stab me in the back and make up this? You’re pathetic.” Richie shoves you on the ground and you feel hot tears on your cheeks.

“Oh Y/n, those girls only looked back at you because you’re weak and they needed a laugh. You’re disgusting and I can’t believe we were friends.” Bev started laughing at you and it got so loud in your ears but you could still hear your heart pounding in your chest.

“No” you balled up your fists.

“Aww look the little bitch has had enough, that’s cute,” Richie snickered at you.

“NO YOU'RE NOT MY FRIENDS, THIS ISN’T REAL” you screamed and closed your eyes. Everything went silent but you heard Stan- your Stan screaming,

“STAN! STAN IT’S NOT REAL!! STANLEY!!”

“Y/N?!” He sounded scared and confused.

“HONEY IT’S NOT REAL PLEASE TRUST ME” you were breathing heavily and ran forward in the dark expecting to find a wall but instead you ran into a body who caught you in his arms. Stanley.

***

You saw everyone back at the edges of the cavern, except Richie-

“Hey fuck face!! Wanna play truth or dare? Here’s a truth for ya, you’re a sloppy bitch!! Yippee-ki-yay mother-” Richie was slammed against the cave wall by one of IT’s claws and you screamed. You heard Eddie yell and launch the fence bar into IT’s face and then silence. Until you saw the back of Eddie’s head and IT’s claw launching toward him and his head disappeared.

Your vision was coming true, IT would kill your friends and you couldn’t do anything.

@unamused-fangirl @eddiegaykaspbrak @tozierchee @finnie-wolfhard @chipoisaloser @multi-parker @happyhanlon @tropicaluris @checkontherep @stark-spiderling @itsbaconheree

A Game of Two Halves

Sunlit Days Challenge 2019. Twist: Harry and Ginny attend a Liverpool football game. Also on AO3. A/N: This is incredibly NSFW, mostly because I hate sports. Thanks to Flo, Eslon, Hedwig, and Kmi -- and also to Liza, who organized this :)

_________________________________________

They’d started doing it at Hogwarts.

Back then, though, they hadn’t known it was a kink.  

They’d spent three sunlit weeks engaging in this weird little… habit…  but if Ginny’s being honest, she and Harry have probably been doing it much, much longer. Back then, though, they’d been too inexperienced to know what they were playing at with their banter and whispering and finger-light touches across bare skin.

Now they’re older. Now they shag — and quite a lot, save for the last ten days. Now they’re nearly married. And while they’ve never had an outright conversation on the topic, turning each other on in public has become a downright competition. Nothing is off-limits, either — including family events. Much like the one they're currently attending.

To celebrate Arthur’s fiftieth birthday, Ron booked an executive box at Anfield, home of Liverpool Football Club. Several months ago, this had seemed a brilliant idea; everyone (even Harry and Ginny) had been eager to see the joyful look on Dad’s face, to hear his earnest questions, to watch him marvel over muggle technologies without fear of being overheard by the general public. But at the time, neither Harry nor Ginny had known that said match would fall smack in between Harpies playoffs and a particularly time-consuming case at the Ministry.

So it goes without saying that Ginny’s… distracted. Very distracted. Extremely distracted. And for the first half of the Liverpool match, she’d convinced herself that her general disinterest in football had caused her drift in attention.

After all, Ginny’s a professional athlete. She spends most of her time thinking about quidditch. She devotes hours to analyses on ducking and diving and kicking and swerving; she spends countless days training and stretching and preparing until she’s at peak performance. Thus, when she is off work, sport is the last bloody thing she wants to think about.

Alas, here is where she has to be a little more honest, though… because boredom with football isn’t the only reason she doesn’t care about the match.

She shifts uncomfortably in her plush seat, glancing at her fiancé from the corner of her eye. Naturally, they’d been playing their own game since they’d arrived nearly forty-five minutes ago, and although she’s loath to admit it, Harry’s winning. In between various familial interferences, amid Bill’s raucous cheers and Ron’s pedantic explanation of fouls, Harry had steadily tortured her — in the most Harry way possible.

The second they’d stepped foot in the executive box, he’d pulled her into a seat in the back row, his fingers dancing over the swell of her arse. When her father hadn’t been pumping them with questions, Harry had taken every chance to lean over and whisper important football things into her ear. She’d erupted in gooseflesh when he’d traced game plays on the skin of her arm, when he’d toyed with the ring on her left hand.

But the moment she’d hinted at growing arousal by letting out a breathy gasp and rubbing her thighs together, Harry had abruptly withdrawn his hand from her forearm. He’d stopped, right in his tracks, the smirk dangling from his lips the only sign he’d done anything at all.

To Ginny, this almost qualifies as playing dirty: They haven’t shagged in ages, the bloody sport at hand isn’t even quidditch, and she can’t even use omnioculars to get a better view of the field. She’s not sure who’s expected her to behave for this long, really, under the circumstances; if this little game were being refereed, Harry surely would have a red card. Or a yellow card. Or whatever the hell the cards are.

Still, Ginny’s never been a graceful loser; giving up before she’s turned the tables is out of the question. So for the past five minutes, she’s been sitting ramrod straight, pretending to focus her attention on the little men running across the field while she waits for her opportunity to strike.

All the while, Harry’s arm has been draped over her shoulders, his left leg propped on his right. To anyone else, he’d appear a doting, kind fiance who loves spending time with his family. Ginny knows him better, though. His smile isn’t content — it’s triumphant. He’s sending her a very, very clear message: I’ve already won, so you’d might as well concede.

She turns to him with a sad sigh; he’s grown too cocky for his own good. Poor, poor Harry… pride always has been his downfall. Surely he must understand that she’s simply biding her time, that she’s used the past five minutes to collect herself, that she’s waiting for the perfect moment.  

And after nearly an hour of torture, the tide is turning in her favor. A tinny-voiced announcer informs them it’s half-time, which means people will get up. It also means that she’ll be able to carry out the next phase of her plan, because Ron (who has lingered close to Harry all day) finally rises from his seat and mutters something about checking on the food.

Ginny’s no Ravenclaw, but it would take a real numpty to ignore a sign of this magnitude. Granted, she ensures that Ron has left before she starts. Not getting caught is another one of their unspoken rules, much like never outright kissing; as much as Ginny enjoys their game, she’d sooner die than reveal it to her family.

Which is why it’s so key that she knows Harry as well as she does. She arches her back and pretends to massage a muscle in her shoulder. Harry reacts immediately — although in the nearly imperceptible Harry way that someone else wouldn’t notice: He merely sits up a smidgen straighter and pretends to focus more on the match.

Ginny smirks, rotating her shoulders. This will be easier than she thought.

“Getting comfortable, Mrs. Potter?” Harry rumbles, a vein ticking in his jaw.

Ginny sucks in a breath, pressing her thighs together again. She hadn’t expected him to bring that one out. At least not so soon.

She needs to rally — and fast.

She clears her throat and adjusts in her seat until their knees are touching. “You’re rather comfortable using that title,” she ponders, tracing her finger tip down Harry’s forearm. Light touch has driven him mad since he was sixteen — and based on the way he’s tensed beside her, his Adam’s apple bobbing, it hasn’t failed her yet.

When her nails graze a tendon, and she feels rather than sees Harry swallow… and deems it safe to move in for the next phase of the attack. “A lot can happen in two months,” Ginny purrs, leaning to brush her breasts against Harry’s arm. “By then, I might’ve become Mrs. Thomas instead!”

But Harry just laughs at this and leans in, too; Ginny feels an irrational surge of disappointment that her attempt at making him jealous hasn’t worked.

“You have a point there, Mrs. Potter. I’m not terribly concerned, though.”

“No?”

“Nah,” he replies, his voice so casual you’d think he was discussing laundry. Then, in a flash, he shifts until his lips are caressing the shell of her ear — and Ginny already knows she’s in trouble, even before he places his palm on the seat, right in the gap between her thighs.

“Cause let’s be reasonable,” Harry adds, his voice dropping to a growl. “We both know how badly you want Potter on the back of your kit while I fuck you in the locker room.”

Fuckkkk.

Ginny exhales raggedly, her eyes fluttering closed. Merlin, she hates it when he’s right. She also hates it when he thinks he’s pulled one over on her — which Harry definitely thinks he’s done.

Fortunately, it’s been ten days for both of them. It shouldn’t take… much. So she clears her throat, sits up straighter, and reaches for the elastic of her hair. Just a little tug, and — yesss. Her hair springs free, cascading down her shoulders; a stray red tendril brushes against Harry’s arm, just as Ginny had intended — and she milks every bloody second of it. She tosses her head back, raking her fingers through it, refusing to stop until—

“Unfair,” Harry moans to her right. It comes out somewhere between a plea and a whine, and a wry grin dashes across Ginny’s face. He has a thing for her hair: He knows it, she knows it, and she reckons everyone else knows it, because while Harry Potter is good at many things, he’s absolute shite at pretending he’s not turned on. As if on cue, he clears his throat and steals a furtive glance around them before deeming it safe to make a necessary trouser adjustment.

Good, Ginny thinks, arching an eyebrow as he squirms in his seat. He’s learned to keep his hands to himself.

But as uncomfortable as Harry is, he hasn’t quite surrendered… not yet. He’s close, though. So close. All it would take, in fact, would be—

“FOOD!” Ron bellows from somewhere to Ginny’s left. She releases a string of violent swears as she and Harry jolt apart, each jumping about a meter in the air. Fucking hell. Ginny loves her brother, really, she does — but she’d long ago concluded that she doesn’t always like him.

And now is definitely, definitely one of those times.

Harry seizes upon her brother’s interruption as she’d known he would. In a flash, he’s already leapt to his feet and rushed to accept the tray of food. His strategy is simple (and not to mention transparent): He’s getting as far away from her as he can, hoping the distance will… cool his ardor. Of course, Harry also knows he’s left her in a smoldering puddle, all while maintaining his wide-eyed facade of innocence. And helpfulness.

Ginny doesn’t exactly mind the view, though. Even if she knows Harry’s playing it up. She admires his backside as he and Ron travel through the executive box to distribute the fancy ordered food for everyone, and though they haven’t said a word, Harry knows she’s staring.

He takes his time, too. Which makes it worse. He painstakingly chooses snacks for everyone in their row: A packet of crisps for Bill, a fruit cup for Victoire (who’s off getting a nappy change), a bottle of water for Fleur, who’s still trying to ‘return to ‘er figure.’ Harry takes so long, actually, and bends over so often that Ginny begins to feel a bit deflated. Halftime’s nearly over, and she’s wondering if she shouldn’t have waited to whip out the elastic hair move. But just as she’s kicking herself for not paying closer attention to the game clock, Harry finally turns around… and a catlike grin creeps across her face.

Because Harry’s coming back to his seat. And he’s holding a massive ice cream sundae, complete with two spoons.

Poor Harry, she thinks again as he settles in beside her. The game’s beginning again and everyone’s returning to their seats, but based on his smug smile, he still thinks he’ll win. Harry’s surely planned to perform many unspeakable acts on that ice cream spoon to tempt her into conceding… but she’s got something up her sleeve. (And not that Harry’s oral skills aren’t spectacular — because they are. He’s world fucking class at that, if she’s being honest… but she also knows that her fiancé has a particular weakness. One she plans to exploit.)

She’ll let Harry have his fun, though. For now. He leans back in the seat and lifts the spoon, licking the ice cream and chocolate away with a few passes of his tongue. His jaw moves in fascinating ways, and she knows what he really wants to do… what they both want him to do. But Ginny’s not going down without a fight.

The moment Harry returns the spoon to the dish for the third time, a fight breaks out on the field — a beautiful, fortuitous fight that seems like quite the scandal. Everyone gasps and rushes to the glass for a better look, pushing over each other in their haste, and Ginny seizes her chance.

“Mm, can I have some?” she asks. Harry snaps his head from the ruckus in front of them, but he’s too taken with it all to expect what she’s got planned; he lets out a startled moan as she shifts forward — and in one swift motion, she brushes her breasts against Harry’s arm. And plunges his fingers into the dish.

“Oops,” she says, wincing. “Seems I need to… clean you up!”

And with that, Ginny bats her eyelashes, reaches for Harry’s hand, and slides his ice cream-covered fingers between her lips.

His response is instantaneous. And perfect. Harry grits his jaw as his eyes flutter shut, as her tongue flicks and swirls over his fingers. They both know what she’s reminding them of — what she’s mimicking. She’s harkening back to a particularly happy hour at Hogwarts when they’d been enjoying a picnic. When he’d gotten some treacle tart on his fingers, she’d shoved them into her mouth, just like she’s doing now…

Harry’s a bit better at containing himself than he’d been at 16. But not much. As is, he’s staring at her through heavy-lidded eyes as her tongue darts out to clean off all the ice cream — or at least this is the excuse she’d give anyone who approached. She flicks her tongue across his knuckle in earnest, and Harry releases that deep, primal growl she loves so much. Victory is so close she can taste it. It’s a heady feeling, being this close to winning — and she’s bloody basking in it. Yesss, she thinks, hollowing her cheeks… she’s won. And as her fiance stares at her, a delirious look of arousal and resignation in his eyes, Ginny grins around his fingers. Because she’d might as well be gripping the snitch from mid-air. With every shuddering exhale of his chest, she can almost feel the cool metal against her palm, the fluttering wings beating against her closed fingers… and she’s close… so close…

Harry’s Adams’s apple bobs one last time, and when his lips part, she knows — just knows — he’s about to give her the confirmation she needs. He’s going to give up.

But Ginny really should have remembered her earlier musings on pride… and she also should have remembered that Harry knows her better than literally anyone else. Karma has a funny way of surprising you, eh?

Just as Harry’s about to concede, just as she can taste victory as surely as she can taste chocolate, a lilting French accent pierces through the air, followed by a tiny giggle…

No. Ginny freezes, clutching at Harry’s arm, but it’s no use… it’s no bloody use. Almost as if she’s watching the events unfold from far away, Ginny stares as Fleur and Victoire appear behind Harry’s shoulder. Her stomach sinks to her toes, gooseflesh erupting absolutely everywhere, because—

No.

Ginny gasps, her eyes wide in horror, as three things happen in quick succession, much faster than she can run interference: First, Harry’s fingers drop from her mouth. Second, he wipes his hand on his trousers, leaping to his feet… and third, he holds out his hands to—

Nonononono. He wouldn’t fucking dare. He wouldn’t...

But he’s doing it, she numbly realizes. He’s going there.

And with that, Harry turns to face her, a smug smirk perched on his lips… lips he then bows to the crown of Victoire’s baby-soft blonde curls. A beaming Fleur shoots Ginny a wistful look from over Harry’s shoulder, but Ginny can only shudder, her whole body rigid, as his muscled forearms press the baby to his front.

Fucking Merlin…

A tendon juts across Harry’s arm as he jostles the nine-month-old like it’s the most casual thing in the world… he easily turns and chats with Fleur, even as he bounces Victoire. It’s so natural, so fluid, and Ginny doesn’t know why, but that’s even sexier — that he’s capable of talking about boring things like Ministry paperwork or cauldron bottoms. While he’s holding an infant.

Fuck.

Ginny’s mouth goes dry, and she numbly realizes she’s been staring slack-jawed for the past several minutes. But really, where the hell had he learned that little trick? Who’d taught him that one-legged shift from foot to foot, his legs bending slightly at the knees? Well, Ginny doesn’t know who his instructor was — but she’s torn between wanting to kiss this stranger and wanting to punish them. And then, an even worse thought occurs to her: Is it possible Harry’s just learned this on his own?

She can’t recall him being so natural with Teddy… but it’s been quite a while since Teddy was this small. Teddy’s a toddler now, almost too big to be held — and certainly big enough to have objections about being held. Has Harry always possessed this secret skill? Ginny doesn’t know… but she can’t deny that Victoire seems quite content in his arms. Her niece has settled beneath Harry’s chin, her blue eyes filled with wonder, her mouth releasing the tiniest baby sigh...

In retrospect, perhaps Ginny could have stayed like that exact space, caught in some limbo between losing and winning. If only Harry hadn’t done something unintentional. And with said unintentional move, he absolutely scores a screamer, just as a Liverpool player does, too.

Because the instant before the crowd erupts in raucous cheers, Harry’s lashes flutter shut, a lazy smile drifting across his face. He’s at peace. Totally, utterly happy.

And Ginny fucking loses it.

She’s up in a half-second, her pride abandoned as quickly as her seat. She hasn't outright told Harry about this little… predicament… with him holding babies. Like everything else, though, he’s inferred it on his own. He must’ve seen the dreamy look steal across her features when he’d held Victoire, or perhaps he’d noticed the way she’d gripped his hand afterwards as something primal had moved in her chest.

Whatever he’d noticed, though, was pure evil — mostly because she knows that he hadn’t even intended the worst of it. Like having the nerve to look completely content while he’d held a baby.

To Ginny, this means one thing: Harry has a secret weapon, something up his sleeve that he might unleash at any time. And there’s nothing she’ll ever be able to do about that, because even he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

Harry does know, though, what that Ginny’s blazing expression means as she takes three heated steps towards him, her chest heaving. Fortunately, the universe hasn’t turned against her completely, either — because as soon as Ginny reaches Harry, Liverpool scores a massive goal; the executive box erupts as loudly as the rest of the crowd. It’s easy for him to hand Victoire back to her mummy under the guise of protecting her from the noise, but Ginny doesn’t miss the way Harry tenses and swallows, his eyes darting to her flushed chest. Fleur accepts the baby with a smile — but not before she shoots Ginny a knowing wink from over her shoulder.

Still, the look on Fleur’s face says it all: I’ll cover. And with that, Ginny almost forgives her sister-in-law for handing Harry a baby in the bloody first place.

The screamer from Liverpool proves a perfectly timed distraction; the joyous celebrations go on for ages, much longer than excitement over quidditch goals. The Weasleys leap to their feet, their cries echoing far louder than anything Ginny might whisper. So with that, she grips her fiancé’s hands in hers, stands on her tiptoes, and leans into his ear — all in such a rapid ferocity that even Harry looks a little surprised.

“The snitch is yours,” she concedes breathily, her voice drowned out by the surrounding applause. Various family members stomp and clap around them as Harry’s body freezes, a roar tumbling from his lips — but Harry doesn’t need to be told again. Before Ginny knows which way is up, he’s tugging hand towards the door, his eyes heavy-lidded and dark… and even though she’s definitely lost this round, Ginny can’t help but take his low groan as a consolation prize.

__________

Two minutes later, they stumble into the loo stall in a frantic blur of hands and mouth. As always, Harry handles the magic; they both know his focus (while randy as hell) is much better than hers. Which isn’t saying much. Nonetheless, he takes out his wand, locks the door from over his shoulder, and performs a cleaning spell, all while she kisses his neck.

“Thank Merlin for private loos,” Harry groans, setting his wand down on the counter as her hands slide beneath his shirt.

Ginny scoffs and busies herself with his trousers. “Thank Merlin for cheating to win, you mean!”

Harry releases a chuckle that becomes a moan as she unbuckles his jeans and slips her hand inside the flap of his boxers.

“Well, Mrs. Potter,” Harry manages, even as she grips him in her fist and gives a tight squeeze. Ginny leans in to nibble below his jaw, beginning slow, even strokes up and down — the sort designed to torture him.

“Fuckkk… ahhh — let’s not be a sore loser now!” His voice breaks on the end, just as her thumb finds the bead of wetness at the tip of his cock. Good, Ginny thinks as Harry begins thrusting into her hand. It’s about time she’s got the bloody upper hand. So to speak.

Then Harry lets out a grunt, his hand jutting out to still her wrist. She peers up at him through her lashes, but Ginny already knows why he’s stopped.

“If you want to have fun too,” he admits, chest heaving, “you have to stop that.”

Ginny smirks and presses herself against him, relishing in Harry’s shudder as the fabric from her shirt grazes his cock. “And how’ve you kept yourself busy the past ten days?”

Harry’s eyes flash with mirth — but that’s absolutely the only warning she gets before he’s sinking to his knees, pulling her trousers and knickers down. Ginny hisses and arches her back, preparing to grip his thick black hair… but it seems he has other plans.

“Later, love,” Harry promises, pressing a kiss to her thigh — and with a wink, he descends on Ginny’s mouth once more. And thank Merlin, she thinks as he grips her arse in his palms and steps back until she’s sitting on the counter, until his cock is just brushing against her heat… because she loves it when he takes what he wants.

Harry’s hands dip to her clit as he leaves a row of kisses along her jaw, sucking and nibbling as he moves, but Ginny’s just about had enough torture for one day. So with that, she quirks an eyebrow, wraps her legs around his waist, and deliberately slides him inside her in one fluid movement.

They both release ragged moans at the contact, their chests heaving although they haven’t even begun. Harry’s eyes are slammed shut, his fingers grip her arse with an almost bruising intensity. But Ginny quite likes an almost bruising intensity... so she doesn’t mind. She loves it, actually, how he still freezes every single time he’s fully inside of her. Like he can’t quite believe his luck.

A second later, Harry’s faces relaxes; she knows that look well, too. He’s pulled himself back from the brink, just in the nick of time. And she’d be content to keep teasing him, really, but then he opens his eyes — and they’re filled with so much passion and intensity that they take her breath away.

Ginny’s lips curl in wry resignation, but she doesn’t fight it. Harry doesn’t just want to fuck; he wants to make love... even in a stadium toilet.

“Been too long,” he murmurs, confirming her thoughts. “Too long without you, and—”

Ginny interrupts him with a kiss. “Later, love,” she mimics, nipping at his jaw as she locks her legs. If given the chance, Harry would wax poetic about his feelings — even right here, right now.

He chuckles, but complies with a sheepish grin. They both know they’ll have time for all that later — for whispers and caresses and confessions of longing. Now, though, things are more pressing; like always, they’re on the same page.

Harry stares at her again, bracing his palms on his hips, and without breaking eye contact for a single second, he begins even, measured thrusts… the sort designed to push her straight over the brink. A moan falls from her lips as he grazes against her clit with the base of his cock… and this, Ginny thinks, beginning to whimper in earnest, is one benefit of knowing each other very, very well…

He knows exactly how to hold her in place so that the hits her clit with every snap of his hips. He knows the perfect pattern to swirl and lift to get her off the fastest. But most importantly, Harry knows what to do that doesn’t involve sex at all — and these things make all the difference. So as he continues thrusting and swirling inside her, gripping her arse, he leans in to her ear and starts in on the familiar litany of panting whispers.

“Fuck, Ginny, you get me so hard," Harry grunt, his breath stirring the tendrils around her ears. She mewls, her arms draped around his neck, and they both know she’s close. “I thought about you every day,” he adds on a groan, his thrusts becoming more erratic, “about being inside you, just like this.”

She answers with a moan as he pulls back to stare into her eyes, as his hips provide the perfect friction against her clit… and just as the first ripples of her orgasm take her over, he utters five words that absolutely shatter her, right on the spot.

“Come for me, Mrs. Potter,” Harry growls into her ear, surging inside her a final time — and with that, Ginny shatters. She cries out a garbled version of his name, throwing her head back as the world explodes around her. It’s an orgasm that goes on so long she scarcely remembers who she is… the sort that leaves her weak and panting as incoherent words tumble from her lips. I love you is the only phrase she recognizes as the waves crest again and again, but the second she says it, she feels Harry reach his peak, too.

With a roar, he stiffens and spills himself inside her, and Ginny sucks in a deep, shuddering breath. Even now, she’s amazed she has this effect on him. It never ceases to astound her that he cares for her as much as she cares for him, that her orgasms always trigger his… and when he finally lifts his head to look at her again, she’s not surprised that his eyes look a little misty.

Ginny offers him a tender kiss, but she knows from the strain across Harry’s brow that he’s probably rather uncomfortable in this position. So she winces in apology, unwraps her legs from his waist and steps down onto the cool tile floor. With that, they untangle their limbs and clean themselves off, preparing to return to her family as if nothing happened.

“Think I’ll keep these,” Harry says a moment later. She turns around, confused… but of course. Harry’s casually leaning on the sink counter, her white lace knickers dangling from the end of his finger. “This is my trophy, I reckon.”

“Fine.” She shrugs and tugs her trousers on, making a great show of shimmying her arse in the process. Harry pointedly clears his throat as she does — which she’d intended; this victory will be much more uncomfortable for him, after all.

Ginny shoots him a final wink as they lace their hands together and push the door open. An easy grin has returned to Harry’s face, his hair looking only slightly messier than normal; they look relatively composed, she thinks, for a couple who just shagged in the loo.

“Ah, look!” Harry says as they turn a corner. A television screen down the corridor displays the score of the game.

“D’you think Liverpool have scored again?” he asks, swinging their hands, “Or maybe—?”

But Ginny interrupts him with a sigh, stopping dead in her tracks.

“I’m serious, though!” Harry says earnestly, nodding to the screen. “Your dad would love to see them win, and—"

Then, in a verbatim repetition of what she’d done after he’d asked her out all those years ago, Ginny turns to face him, drapes her arms around his neck, and gives him a plain stare.

“Harry,” she says, her lips twitching. “You must know by now that don’t give a flying fuck about the match.”

Covenant Ch: 2

summery:  They did it, IT was left to die alone in the tunnels under Derry. months have passed and the losers thrived after what seems to feel like a curse lifting off the town. if only Beverly had not decided to make a last minute deal with IT on its death bed. will her choice to let IT live destroy all that she holds dear?

status: complete

rated: M - fowl language and gore

prev chap: Covenant ch 1

next chap: Covenant ch 3

_____________________________________

~ch: 2 The Covenant~

“You can't eat kids for one.” Earning the expected hissy fit from IT.

“May as well leave me to die. I’ll be starving either way!” Growling at the first condition. “I’ll have you know i can't eat the meat you do. It always has to be someone that feeds my hunger.”

her next condition came to her quickly. A part of her thinking that this could count as IT serving a debt to society.“You can only eat criminals. Robbers, murderers, kidnappers, those kinds of people.” Ignoring all of ITs complaining as she went on.

“What about all of you?! Why am i only getting restraints from this deal?!” Hissing up another fit.

“ as long as you don't eat innocent people. We promise not to bother you or interfere in your hunts. Okay?” Wondering if this was even getting anywhere or merely wasting her time speaking to IT.

“What if there are no criminals? What if i have eaten them all? What if they all leave? Am i supposed to starve until one possibly enters Derry?!” Questioning her. Bringing up a highly probable situation they could be hit with.

After thinking it over multiple times with no other possibilities. She took in a deep breath to say the 4th condition. “ … We’ll choose for you if there are no options.” Thinking of it being best rather then IT having a free for all on options.

Continuing onto list all the condition. “ you can only kill criminals. You can't kill kids. We won't do anything to hurt you unless you break the deal. If there's no food, we’ll find you someone. Do we have a deal?” Asking for the final confirmation. Hearing it grumble before begrudgingly accepting.

“i accept, but You’ll have to uphold your last ruling first. I cannot hunt so you’ll have to do it for me.” Going on to grumble barely hear-able about “humans can't catch anything. … Going to starve … Stupid.”

“I’ll try to bring … Someone. I need time to think of a plan first.” Swallowing at the idea of picking someone to lure to their death to ITs jaws. ITs frown twisting up into a crooked grin at the thought of possibly being served by a little human. That then dropped at hearing Beverly needing time.

“Oooh please, take your time. I am in no hurry.” Tone heavily oozing anger inside of sarcasm. Beverly turning to leave with a sigh. Climbing back up the sloped wall into the main nest area. Mixing her way back home between walking to running as to not make her aunt worry why she took so long.

“Oh Bev! I was beginning to wonder where you were.” Her aunt spoke surprised as Beverly entered through the door.

“Sorry, i stopped to look at some chalk art by the river and lost track of time.” Panting after running half the way home. Rummaging through the fridge to pour a glass of kool-aid before retreating to her small room.

“I am gonna do homework in my room.” Telling her aunt before closing the narrow door. The space barely big enough for a bed with a narrow two foot wide walkway beside it. One wall having built in shelves and the other having a small shelf space under a full window. Atop her wall shelves were a small square TV, Many figures left after her mother's death. A few stuffed animals between other various toys. the space under her window holding all her school books piled upon work binders.

Decorating the small space was a small string of hung up Christmas lights at her ceiling. A small poster of the batman logo across her door. Framed photos of her and the guys or her with her aunt. Any remaining space on her wall slowly taken over by sketches of outfits. Since moving in with her aunt she discovered she enjoyed drawing themed dresses from magazines. Moving on to slowly insert her own designed looks.

Beverly sat on her bed for a moment to breath in. took a cold sip of kool-aid before setting it off to the side. then leaned back into the multiple pillows. Rubbing her face at thinking over what she just did.

“A deal with Satan is what.” Staring up at the ceiling. Darkly thinking of who was to basically be murdered by her hand. Greta Keene First came to mind after all her harassment. Yet Beverly didn't think being an asshole necessarily deserved murder. She was also a kid like the rest of them. “Nope, definitely off the list of possibles.”

Luring some crack head from the train yards also didn't seem the safest. Nor trying to lure any known criminal all the way down to it's nest. This was turning much harder then she thought. She had to choose someone. Sometime soon before IT could finally starve to death.

“Should i even go through with it? What if IT doesn't keep the bargain? I will be giving it all the energy it needs to devour children again. Maybe even grabbing one of us. I do need to tell the guys though. The deal does involve all of us.” Thinking it over.

Despite all her planning nothing was lining up. It was far too dangerous to lure a criminal alllll the way to IT. No ideas as to who she would even lure. It's not exactly like she was keeping track of criminals running through Derry. Defeated she went to bed for the night after cranking out her finished homework over dinner.

Waking up to her aunt knocking on her door for school. Getting ready before the sun was up to walk the long time over. Greeted by the guys out front once she made it there.

“Hey Bev” Both Ben and bill greeted simultaneously

“Bev! You do the biology homework?!” Richie questioned right away. She looked toward bill as he was the one to usually be asked these questions.

“I said he c-c-can't copy.” Bill answered her look. Looking back to Richie she gave a sorry shrug. Agreeing with bill at this copying of homework becoming a problem

“Aww come on, why not?!” Panicking at being denied.

“Richie you failed the test. Homework cant even save you now. You gotta ask for extra cred.”

“Ugggh, but Mrs Baez hates meeee!” Whining at the thought. “What about history?! I passed that test!”

Beverly rolled her eyes as she opened her bag. “Fine.” Barely getting the paper out before Richie snatched it to immediately copy answers. Half way through copying he spotted Eddie walking up. Dashing up to him.

“You better bring my homework back!” Beverly shouted semi seriously.

“Eddie-ed-Edds! You do the biology homework?!” almost singing out the multiple names.

“I ain't giving it to you! I am having an aneurysm from enough stress already! I don't want to be worrying about you holding my papers before suffering a quiz by Mr. Sanchez!”

“We're having a quiz?!” Richie panicked more. The bell ringing for classes about to start interrupting their conversations. Beverly snatching her homework back before Richie could disappear down the halls with it.

“Hey i wasn't finished!”

“Sorry, times up!” Beverly replied behind the crowd flowing indoors.

“Well fuck me with a friggin spoon then!” Richie jokingly shouted as they headed in.

Stanley walked up behind the group. Grimacing at Richie's fowl mouth shouting. “Geeze rich could you shout any louder?” Stanley mentioned from behind them all.

“Sure i can! FUCK ME-” he started shouting until the principal, Mr. Alko stepped out of his office. “SAVE Our soulsgoodjesus! ain't that right Stanley boy?” hugging Stan as they all rushed past the principle glaring them down.

“Look, it's bever-ly” Greta Sneered from by the lockers. Surrounded by her click laughing around her.

“Hey look, it's Twinkie the kid!” Richie mocking her right back in Beverly's defense. Pointing at the bright yellow outfit Greta wore. A almost highlighter yellow shirt, bright pink pants, and a light blue designer jacket that cost hundreds.

“Watch it loud mouth! I can get you in trouble for anything! My dad pays for this school and if i ask he can pay for you to get tossed!” Snapping at him smugly.

“I'll be kicked outta this hell hole?! Jesus does save!” Hugging Stan tighter before being pressed off by the boy holding in a snicker.

“Fuckin freaks. Hope you enjoy being under pervs bevy!” Gretas group snickering as they stepped into the class. Beverly clenching a fist at her side. Maybe Greta would be on the list. Breathing out all her anger as she went to sit down.

Classes went on as usual. Lunch going just the same. Hanging out before the end of their brake was spoiled by Greta again. Along with a few random guys creepily approaching Beverly for sexual favors. This unfortunately being the norm, but also the norm of the guys cheering her up or threatening off the creeps.

End of school had them all meeting up for the short walk away together before finally splitting.

“R-r-Richie, do your own homework this time w-w-will ya.” Bill playfully smacked the back of his friends head.

“Ow! Oh fuck! Abuse! This savage peasant attacked me! My father will toss you out!” Richie playing up being hurt. Changing his voice to mock Greta after she was spotted leaving the grounds in a fancy car.

“Hey, ain't Mike's car ready yet?” Richie asked at remembering one of them was actually able to drive now. Sort of.

Ben answering off what he last heard from mike. “He said over the phone that it drove well around the property this time. Might be set for the road after a few more rounds.” Ben further commenting. “Honestly surprised his grandfather helped buy him a new car on their budget.”

“You mean the undriveable hunk of junk he needed to fix up?” Richie reminded them of where mike's “new” car came from. “The fucking ugly rusted bug that had been for sale for years?”

“Even if it is a hunk of junk. Was still a steal at only $15.” Eddie added.

“Yeah, then came the hundreds of dollars of repairs after two breakdowns. nobody else wanting it in the first place making it $15.” Richie specified.

“Even if it's a hunk of junk it means we’ll get to cruise the town more. Less asthma attacks for me when visiting Bev's place.” Eddie tossed in.

“Who knew a rust bucket would stop you from dying Edds!”

“Stop calling me that! If my arm was better i would toss my book bag at you!”

“Sure thing spag-eddie, but you know your casts been off a few months now, right?”

“That doesn't mean is fully healed yet ya dingus! What if there's still this hairline crack and I over exert it into snapping again?”

“So what? G-g-going to wait until n-n-next year to see if it's better?” Bill jokingly spoke about eddies “injured” arm.

Richie joking back at bill.“It’ll be next year by the time we finish waiting for you to stutter out whatever.”

“Exaggerate much? O-only takes me a season.” Giving Richie a playful shove at the street corner they all walked to.

“Alrighty boys time for me to split off. See you all tomorrow.” Beverly started heading down another street. Getting waves goodbye and see you tomorrows. Followed by a few other guys splitting off on their own ways home.

Down along her walk she enjoyed the peaceful quiet time. Feeling the warm sun on her face to the cool breeze across her hair. The concrete sidewalk turning to dirt under her boots as she got closer to home of the RV park. Being outside the main area of Derry it turned more to wilderness beside the lone road. No concrete in sight surrounded by towering trees. Spotting wildlife of deer passing by between the trees.

Her normally peaceful walk disturbed by the feeling of being watched. Looking over her shoulder to see the sight of no one. Anxiety spiking at the thought of a mountain lion being nearby. Her aunt had warned about them before lurking around trails to pounce walkers.

Until a dark green pick up truck eased it's way out from behind a mass group of bushes. Something in her gut saying this wasn't normal. What was she to do?

“It's only one. I can fight off one.” Carefully glancing at her surroundings for some kind of defense. Preparing herself for a fight or to bolt into the woods at her side. Cant drive a truck through trees for a chase. Hiding her panic she kept walking an even pace forward.

Carefully listening to the clunking car slow down behind her. Stopping not to far behind followed by the click of a door opening.

Her heart rushed in her chest to bolt. Making it three steps before-

“Beverly!” Her name was called. Catching her off guard enough to pause for a look back toward the calling.

She expected to be facing a total stranger. Not her father.

Body locking up in fear as a deer in headlights would. Gearing to bolt after he stepped closer. Then she saw the gun shining red in his hand. Coated in blood just like the rest of him from the waist down. When they used to live under the same roof she always saw her dad being well dressed. Now he looked to be an absolute mess. Tattered clothes, dark circles under his eyes like he hadn't slept for weeks. Thinner then what he used to be to a unhealthy point. He took unsteady steps forward.

Startling her by taking a tight hold of her wrist. She swallowed fearfully with eyes locked to the side of the road. Terrifying thoughts as to what he was going to do. Weather her body would be found in the woods or not. even being found lacking clothing possibly being a part of her upcoming death.

“Bevy, i am so sorry for what i did. I didn't mean for it to go like that. You know i love you, right? You’re my little girl and i don't know what came over me. I guess i was afraid of losing you.” His words overly sweet on false words of love. Filled with something else she knew too well that made her sick to her stomach.

“ i really am sorry. All the stress i've been dealing with.” His tone shifting from sweet. “It got to me, but now I am better. You forgive me right?” to desperate then to something more aggressive. “You know I love my little girl so much, don't you?”  Showing itself more in the grip painfully tightening on her wrist.

“Yes, it's okay daddy.” Sickly accepting his “apology” for fear of being blasted through the head. A few other details making her sick was the strong scent of blood mixed sweat coming off him. He must have been hiding in the dirt someplace to avoid the police. Who knows who, or when, he had killed as the blood had far past been dried on him. Aside from suddenly having a vehicle to drive in that was never his.

“Good, good, i knew my little girl would stay mine. Get in the truck, we have to hurry. We're going to go far away from here!” his overly large smile holding her unsettled attention until the mention of going someplace with him. Dragging her along to get inside the truck with him.

“Go, go where?!” Panicking at what his plans were.

“We’re leaving. Going far away where we can be a family again. Someplace where they can’t separate us.” Shoving her into the side seat before speeding the truck down the road.

Beverly going quiet in the seat. Thinking on what she could do, she had nothing for defense while he had a gun. Watching the trees zip by the car window. She needed to get away, fast, which meant tumbling out of the speeding truck as her only option. She needed a open space to do so. She didn't want to jump out and accidentally slam into a tree.

Then there it was, empty dirt space right before the bridge crossing the river. She had to time this just right to not hit a tree or the bridge railing. Deep breaths to prepare herself for the pain she was going to have to deal with soon.

Looking out of the corner to her eye to her dad. One hand slowly shifting to the door handle. Checking it was unlocked before shoving the door wide open. Giving no hesitation with a leap out. Avoiding her dad lunging to force her back in.

Her landing did not go as smoothly as hoped. Landing half way onto old pine needles covered dirt and her leg smashing onto a large rock sticking up. pain shooting up one leg over and over. Rolling uncontrollably down the gravel surrounded rocky hillside down to the pure rocky river shore. Body sore enough to feel beaten down by a group of thugs. Sure of it that she would be covered in bruises soon.

Adrenaline upon stopping by the river getting her up onto her feet almost instantly. Painfully regretting doing so at a bolt of shocking pain from her left leg. Arms spreading out to prevent herself from falling right back down. Urge to vomit stopped by her deeply breathing the fresh river air. Drying her eyes of built up tears.

Looking down she could see a dent at her ankles side. Surrounded by blood collecting from somewhere under her sock. A bone had surely snapped through upon slamming into that rock. However there was no time for a further look.

“Bevy!” Her father shouted with a look over the railing down to her. She looked up to lock eyes for a brief moment. Breaking into a bolt that caused her excruciating pain along the uneven rocky shore. Running turning into a desperate limp to get away.

Noticing her blood soaking right through the sock after barely getting far. Body locking up under all the stress while her father was hunting right behind. She needed to hide someplace where she could lose him. Wiping pain filled tears from her eyes to more clearly see in front of her. Heart skipping a beat at her cleared vision seeing the water drainage pipe.

Mind thinking that she shouldn't go in there, but that it was her only chance. Running deep into the dark pipe without hesitation. Switching between running to silently treading through the small amount of water. lightheadedness hitting her hard on the verge of passing out.

Cursing to herself as her dad was still following as close as ever. Stopping for a moment upon reaching ITs lair. Noting IT had moved again while quietly running over to the massive pile. Trying not to alert IT while also trying to hide. Peaking around the pile walls, past the open wagon, down toward it's unmoving form.

IT now back up from the hidden room to coil up inside the darker parts of the hollowed pile. Resembling the way a snake would sleep underneath a large rock. Staring at IT for possibly any response that she honestly did not want in this moment.

“This was a horrible mistake.” Thinking over her being injured and now sneaking right by IT. Into the nest, as tightly up against the walls as possible to hide in the tiniest crevice ever by ITs sleeping jaws. Hearing drops of blood falling off her shoe to loudly tap against various toys. Peeking out the crevice to watch between the sleeping insect to the piles entrance. Hearing her father's footsteps beat across the stone.

Swallowing sickly at the sight of his silhouetted form appearing in front of the entrance. Watching as he slowly walked inside over the junk. Barely avoiding ITs sleeping form two feet away by pure luck.

She begged in her thoughts for him to give up his searching. Making the mistake of being startled as he stepped a little too close to IT.

A part of her fearing the horrible idea to wake IT while injured.

The movement of her catching her fathers eye.

“Bevy! Get over here!” He roared. Her heart racing at all the noise he was making. Even more so when he stomped over to her.

A grab of her wrist to yank her out had her scream out in pain with her bad leg forced forward. His grip releasing after a loud crunch. Wailing out a scream of his own pain as he collapsed. The two of them finding out what had happened within that short second.

Massive jaws had snapped down into one of his legs. Jagged teeth locked onto the limb yanking him off his feet to fall before Beverly. The gun falling down in between the junk pile to be lost far within.

Her father twisted around to push on ITs massive jaws in hopes of pulling them open like a bear trap. The jaws clenching tighter drawing more blood to flow from between the clenched teeth. Sounding out multiple crackles from the bone in his legs crushed under rows of teeth. Drawing out another cry of pain.

“Beverly! Baby!” He desperately turned to his daughter for help. Yet, there was nothing she could do even if she wanted to. Staring him dead in the eye in a stunned shock. Unintentionally marveling at the fear in his eyes while staring up at her. Watching them the whole time as IT let go only to bite a little further up his body. His screams stopping once the jaws crushed his lungs. Crushing more of him until he was swallowed down alive.

Now alone with it she slid slowly down to sit inside her hiding crevice. Adrenalin dying off having her feel the full effect of her injuries. Pain hitting in unbearable waves that were never ending. Blood loss from her compound fractured leg making everything go dark. Accepting sleep so easily while knowing she was dying. Closing her eyes to sleep all the pain away.

Adventures in Arkham

Definitely putting a ‘Keep Reading’ fold for this one. It’s a long story, but pretty funny. So a while back, when I actually had spare time and my schedule matched up fairly well with my friends’ schedules, we used to get together for Game Day/Night. It’s exactly like you’d expect; one big table, 3-5 people, a shit ton of drinks, snacks, E-drinks, etc, and one really big, really complicated, really LONG game. In our case, it was Arkham Horror. We’re all sci-fi/fantasy buffs, but out of our group, only me and one other guy knew the Lovecraftian mythos backwards and forwards. So basically, when it came to monsters, skills, and locations, we had the inside track. Thing is, luck is a very, very fickle thing. The very first game we played, the Big Bad of the day was none other than the Big C himself. Which automatically put ALL of us at a disadvantage by depleting a bunch of our natural sanities, increasing the number of monsters and the actions of monsters on the board itself, as well as setting up an actual DOOM counter. We had until the counter reached 10 before Cthulhu literally ended the world. Most of the other big-bads didn’t END things; they just made the game intensely hard when they were summoned. Big C is a hard-crash for the game. Do not Pass Go.

Naturally, when we were setting things up, we were assholes to each other, all for the sake of fun. One friend chose to become the Antiquarian/historian character. Basically, his character was the one who ALWAYS investigated ruins, mystical items, etc, and tended to be fairly prone to using magic. He also tended to ‘research’ things which let someone reroll a failed roll, or something like that. (that saved our butts a few times). Another chose to be the team Muscle. Character was a mafia gunslinger, with almost no imagination, but plenty of fighting skill. My friend chose the Assistant, which was like an intern for the Historian. More inclined towards magic, but far more stable mentally. I forget the bonus they got as that character. I decided to be the comic relief, so I chose Journalist. Basically a nothing character with no leanings one way or the other. Figured I’d be the one screaming most of the time. But things didn’t go precisely as planned. The Muscle ended up mostly going around the streets of Arkham dual-wielding friggin’ Tommyguns and wiping out any mortal monsters he could find...which oddly enough included one hapless Cthulhu spawn that thought that it could occupy the avenue on the south end of town. Apparently whatever Muscle used for ammo, it shredded that thing. The only thing he couldn’t kill were ghosts and vampires and other spirits. The Historian ended up holed up in the south end of town, unable to leave his location since the streets were being patrolled by a HOST of aerial monsters that would instantly take him down. So he spent most of the game just using that Reroll ‘research’ skill to keep the rest of us from making errors in judgement. He also lost his sanity a LOT, but always recovered one point some how. My friend, the Assistant, had an interesting time. Early on they had acquired one of the Sigils of the Elder Gods, used normally to seal Gates. But to seal a gate you had to go INTO the gate, then make your way through whatever alternate universe/dimension/hellscape it sent him. Upon leaving that zone, he’d close the gate with the seal, permanently locking it. (each Turn, the Big C would cause X number of gates to open, and if too many open, the game ended even earlier than the 10 count). At one point he fell no less than THREE times into one particular universe. Me? Well, my Journalist had shit luck, but that turned out to be FANTASTIC luck for him. For one, he had a Retainer; story goes that the Journalist had witnessed something really fucked up and weird, and that he had started obsessing on the Occult and weird crap. Thanks to this, some unknown benefactor Retained his services to go investigate Arkham’s mysteries. Every turn I would get a ton of cash, where everyone else would get a mediocre amount. As such, I could afford everything in every shop, if I needed it. Sufficed to say, I ended up being a bit of an armory for the others. Buy what they needed, trade it for things I wanted from them. That’s how Muscle got his second Tommygun. So while everyone was off lost in alternate universes, going insane, or fighting monsters in the streets, my clueless loser was wandering a desert island off shore on a ‘hint’. Didn’t find shit all. So I got another ‘lead on a story’ and went to investigate the cemetery. Ended up getting attacked when I disturbed a vampire that was waking up. Now...this should have been where my Journalist dies. But, see, some of the items I’d traded for to give me some bite in a fight (should I get in one) were...remarkably perfect for the scenario. I literally had a magic sword from the beginning of the game, a gift of the benefactor, a magical DAGGER I’d acquired from the Assistant, and a few other handy dandy things...like a spell that summoned Azathoth for a moment to carpet bomb the area with nuclear death. (I traded that to Assistant, to give him TWO, along with the sigils he kept acquiring that did the same thing. LOL) So combat begins, and everyone expects me to miss and die pretty fast. I roll my dice. ..... How to properly describe this?... I needed ONE hit to kill the vampire. Out of I think it was 7 or 8 die I had, I rolled ALL hits. The first hit killed the vampire before it could counter attack. Every other attack was superfluous. I immediately started laughing. It was the funniest thing to me. All I could picture was my clueless, moron Journalist tripping over a waking vampire, screaming, and then doing a Berzerker Barrage with both blade weapons on it, screaming the entire time. It wasn’t that I hit with all those attacks. That wasn’t the funny part. The funny part was imagining the scenario that I hit with ONLY that first strike, which insta-gibbed the bloodsucker, and that every other attack whiffed empty air because my guy was attacking out of pure empty panic and didn’t realize his opponent was possibly in several pieces on the ground. Envision this: Journalist: “Man, this place is boring. They said there’d be monsters here!” *kicks a rock which falls into an open grave* Vampire: *sits up in open grave* “Bla!” Journalist: “OH FUCKING SHIT! *insert JJBA impersonation of your choice here* Vampire: “*Dies instantly*” Journalist: *still attacking blindly, whiffing empty air for like, 2 minutes* AAAAHHHHH!!!!!!......*blinks. Looks around. Realizes he left the vampire 10 steps behind him in several pieces* Whoa. Shit... He died like, really quick.” Journalist: *wanders over to hamburger-ized vampire. Roots through the remains with a stick* “Oh hey, cool. An amulet! I wonder what it does?” (I forget what it did. But it made it even harder to kill me apparently.) That was just one hilarious moment of the Journalist-who-missed-everything. While everyone was busy saving the world, I was fucking around. At one point, my friend was pulled into the dimension The City of the Great Race, and ended up stuck there fighting resident after resident horror. The Journalist wandered over to where the Gate to this location was, and wandered in willingly. Cuz he was an idiot who saw a shiny hole in the air and went ‘Ooh, shiny!’ He proceeded to wander unopposed and uncontested for three full turns before leaving with a trinket. At no point did I draw an encounter card that WORKED in that place. Apparently he’d merely wandered around the empty buildings, admiring the architecture, while my friend fought for his life in another area of it. I picture him just casually walking through the streets, calling out for anyone, before shrugging his shoulders, picking something up from a storefront, pocketing it, and walking out through the portal while whistling a jaunty tune. In the end, we all survived and actually continued our characters in the expansion; the Journalist was still as clueless as ever, but he lost his Retainer. Apparently the benefactor was displeased with his results and cancelled his contract. LoL.