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s-oulpunk · 4 years

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The Denbrough Show - Chapter Thirteen

Summary:

“Your entire life is being fucking live streamed on Television, Bill!”

“I - what - no,” Bill shakes his head, as if that will somehow clear things up. “I would’ve noticed.”

The stranger shoots him a look that’s almost akin to pity. It makes Bill’s stomach crawl.

“I can prove it."

---

Bill Denbrough's life is far from perfect. But he has everything he could have ever wanted. Friends that love him, parents that smile just the right amount, a boyfriend that would do anything for him. Nothing special. And yet a stranger in a fucking fanny pack goes the extra mile and breaks into his home, just to tell him his far from perfect life is being viewed by a million different people. It's only fair to say this raises a few questions. Who can he trust to have his back? Where is Beverly? And, perhaps most important of all, what really happened to Georgie?

Or: The Truman Show AU

Chapter Summary:

“Bill?” Eddie’s voice pipes up. “Bill, where are you going?”

“Robert knows where Juh-Georgie is,” Bill says, only a foot away from the door now. “I have to-” He’s cut off by Ben stepping directly into his path. “Get ou-out of my way.”

Ben shakes his head. “You’re not thinking, Bill. We need to talk about this.”

“All we dd-duh-do is talk ah-about it!” Bill argues. “I want to do ss-suh-suh-something!”

TW: Brief mentions of abuse

Read on AO3

Chapter Thirteen:

Bill knows Stan is waiting for him to say something. He can feel his eyes soaking into his skull, burning into his brain as he searches for answers. The only problem is, Bill doesn’t know if he could give him an answer if he tried.

“You said no o-one knew where Juh-Juh-Geor-Georgie was,” he whispers.

Stan nods, still staring at him with that wide-eyed look. “I mean, no one had seen or heard from him in years.”

“Then wh-why would he suddenly come out in the oh-open?” Bill asks. “It doesn’t mm-make sense. And why would he ww-want me to go bb-buh-back there?”

“Maybe he doesn’t,” Stan suggests. “Maybe he was following a script. Most of the interviews we had to do for The Denbrough Show were scripted.” “Georgie’s not an ah-actor,” Bill frowns.

“No, you’re not listening,” Stan says.

“Wh - Yes I am!”

Stan laughs, a natural reflex to Bill’s half horrified expression. “Just think about it, okay? There’s no reason Georgie would want you to go back there. This is the same station that the rest of us did interviews with. It makes sense that some executive - maybe even your own parents - found Georgie and coerced him to do this interview.”

Bill shuffles uncomfortably. “You think someone’s hh-huh-hur-hur-hurting him?”

Stan pauses, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “Probably not physically, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they threatened him. Robert was never above using force to get the rest of us to do what he wanted.”

“He hh-hurt you,” Bill says simply. “I ss-saw the bruise, you said he hh-huh-hit you. What's to say he ih-isn’t doing the ss-suh-same to Georgie?”

“We don’t even know if Robert has Georgie,” Stan says hurriedly. “Or that he was there-”

“Of course ww-we know he was there!” Bill cries out. “Why wouldn't Rr-Ruh-Robert be there? This is his operation, he was puh-pruh-probably the one to write Georgie’s sc-scr-script!” Stan frowns down at the laptop. Georgie’s photo is still frozen in front of them, staring up into the camera with eyes sparkly with tears. It shatters Bill’s heart just a little bit more, and he quickly re-focuses his energy on getting an answer from his friend. “Stan?”

Stan tears his eyes away from the computer. “Sorry,” he says, not looking very sorry at all. He looks too distant to be truly sorry, too lost in thought to even know what he’s apologizing for. “I’m thinking.”

Bill nods slowly.

Stan has always seemed distant and far away when he’s thinking. He pinches his eyebrows and purses his lips, his whole face scrunching together like he’s just heard one of Richie’s particularly bad jokes. But his eyes are sharp and analytical, focused on nothing in particular. Bill’s always had a hunch that Stan can see whatever it is he’s thinking about. Whenever he thinks too hard about anything, it’s as if he’s been transported into another plane of existence. And the only thing that can bring him back is the right answer.

And while Bill’s never been more grateful for that than now, he’s a little afraid that Stan will never find the right answer. That he’ll never come back.

Then, “Robert was probably there,” Stan says slowly, picking out his words like they’re fruit on a thorny bush. His movements have to be slow and precise, making sure not to prick himself while reaching for the delicious food. “But it doesn’t make sense for Georgie to be with him. He’s not good with kids, he hates them. Why would your parents put their son’s fate in the hands of someone who hates kids?”

Bill shrugs. “Why would they ll-luh-let a psychopath put mm-my entire life on tt-tuh-television?”

“Touche,” Stan says. “They might be shitty parents, but they still want a good life for you guys. They thought living on the set of The Denbrough Show would make you happy. That it would make life easier. It was misguided, but they didn’t want to hurt you.”

“But wh-wh-what does that have to do with Georgie?”

“If they don’t want to hurt you, no matter how ill intentioned they are, then they aren’t going to want to hurt Georgie,” Stan continues. “They may be, admittedly, terrible parents, but they wouldn’t put either of you in harm’s way.”

“They don’t know that Rr-Robert would huh-huh-hurt him!” Bill insists. “Do th-they know he hurt yuh-you?” Stan doesn’t answer, which is all the answer Bill needs. A moment later he’s on his feet, marching purposefully across the apartment.

“Bill?” Eddie’s voice pipes up. “Bill, where are you going?”

“Robert knows where Juh-Georgie is,” Bill says, only a foot away from the door now. “I have to-” He’s cut off by Ben stepping directly into his path. “Get ou-out of my way.”

Ben shakes his head. “You’re not thinking, Bill. We need to talk about this.”

“All we dd-duh-do is talk ah-about it!” Bill argues. “I want to do ss-suh-suh-something!”

“Ben’s right.”

Bill wheels around to face Richie, eyes blazing furiously. He’s used to Richie having his back on almost everything, the fact that he isn’t willing to back him up on this is like a slap to the face.

“It’s dangerous,” Richie continues. “You can’t go rushing into shit just because you’re upset.”

“He doesn’t have to be rushing into anything,” Beverly says firmly. “If we actually helped him and came up with a plan-”

“What do you mean if we actually helped him?” Ben asks. He looks horrified, mouth agape and eyebrows drawn together. His cheeks are starting to become a dark red color, nearly dark enough to match Bev’s hair. But his eyes are what Bill can’t stop looking at. They’re dark and angry, furiously glaring at his girlfriend from across the room. Bill doesn’t think he’s ever seen Ben truly angry. It’s enough to make him want to retreat back into himself, to make him want to crawl away and hide until he’s sure he’ll be safe from Ben’s wrath. “Are you fucking kidding me? Bev, we risked everything-”

“And yet he’s still a prisoner!” Bev snaps. “You’re all keeping him trapped inside this house! Telling him what to do!”

“That’s not the same!” Mike argues. “You can’t even compare the two!”

“I think she’s right.” Eddie’s voice seems to breathe a wave of fresh air into Bill’s lungs. Eddie who, over the course of a few days, has quickly become one of Bill’s best friends in the world. Eddie who risked everything to help him. Bill can’t be more grateful to have him on his side. “We’re only keeping Bill here because we’re scared. It’s not fair.”

Richie shakes his head. “No. No, no. We’re not - That’s not why-”

“It is why,” Eddie insists. “What happens if he’s caught? He gets sent back to set? It’s two months there. Yeah it’ll suck, but then he can demand they set him free. It’ll be almost easier than all these hoops we’re jumping through.”

“You honestly think they’re just going to let him leave?” Richie says.

“They’re going to tighten their security,” Mike says, “find ways to make him stay.”

“They’ll do the same thing if they catch him in two months!” Eddie cries out.

Bev nods. “We need to start fighting back now. I know it won’t be easy, but delaying it won’t make it any easier.”

“It’s mm-muh-my life,” Bill says. His voice, despite the stutter, doesn’t shake. He can’t help but feel a swell of pride at that, and it pushes him to continue on. “Don’t I get a ss-say? It’s my ll-luh-life and I say we do something nn-nuh-now. I don’t ww-wuh-want to sit and hh-hide anymore.”

“Fuck, Bill, it isn’t just about you!” Richie blurts out. “The rest of us are going to be affected as well! You can’t rush into something without all of us agreeing!”

Bill opens his mouth to argue, to insist that next time maybe Richie shouldn’t hide behind the idea of protecting him just to save his own skin. But Bev beats him to it.

“Let’s take a vote,” she says. “Majority rules. Who thinks we should start fighting back now?” Bill, Eddie, and Bev raise their hands. “And who thinks we should wait until Bill’s eighteen?” Mike, Ben, and Richie’s hands shoot into the air.

There’s only one hand missing.

“Stan?” Bill creeps closer to him. “Ah-Are you okay?”

Stan nods. Despite this, Bill can’t bring himself to believe him. Stan, by no means, looks okay. His eyes are distant and far away, his sweater pulled down over his hands as Stan picks at a loose thread.

“You’re the deciding vote,” Mike says softly.

“I - What?”

“Oh wh-whether or not we go ah-after Robert now,” Bill says. He leaves his post by the door in favor of sitting next to Stan, knees bumping and shoulders brushing. It feels safer here, like nothing can hurt him when Stan’s looking at him like that. Like he would give up his life to protect him. In some way, Bill supposes he did.

“Right,” Stan murmurs. “I - um - I don’t know. It’s risky.”

“It’s my bb-buh-bruh-brother!” Bill cries out. “Please, Stan.”

“I know,” Stan whispers. “I know. But it’s dangerous. And making sure you stay out will be easier than breaking you out again.”

“But-”

“Bill…” Stan’s voice makes Bill slump in defeat. It’s tired and broken, the voice of someone who has tried everything - who has gone through hell - and still came out empty handed. “Please.”

“Ff-Fuh-Fuh-Fine.”

“Alright then,” Richie says, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife through a stick of butter. “That settles it.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. He clearly does not think this settles it, but he doesn’t voice these concerns. Instead he slumps back down in his seat, burying his nose in his phone and doing his best to help from a distance. He still thinks going head to head with Robert would be much more effective but no, that’s scary, we can’t do that.

In Eddie’s mind, you can never reap a reward if you don’t plant the seeds. If they don’t go up against Robert themselves, they will never be able to be free from his clutches. They’ll always be his puppets, dangling from wire thin strings attached to his meaty fingers. The kind that could snap and send them plummeting to their messy, messy deaths in a split-second.

The only hope left for them is to sever the strings on their own, and to hope they don’t break any bones in the fall.

Across the room, Bill is still sitting silently beside Stan. He expected Stan’s answer, he knows how much Robert terrifies him, but it still stung to hear. Bill had been a sitting duck for all his life, whether he knew it or not. He had always been complacent. He’s sick of it. He wants to do something. He wants to fight back. He wants to feel heard for once in his fucking life.

Stan must know what he’s thinking because he tears his eyes away from the computer to look up at Bill, all wide eyed and apologetic, and says, “I’m sorry. You have to understand-”

“I uh-understand perfectly fine, Stan,” Bill says softly. “You’ve tt-tuh-told me more times than I can count hh-how terrifying Rr-Robert is. I know the rr-ruh-risk.”

Stan quickly averts his gaze. The hurt on his face is clear, and it quickly makes Bill feel nauseous. He did that. He hurt him.

But he refuses to back down. If he can just get Stan to change his mind, then he can go after Georgie. Then he can help him. And that’s what really matters.

“It’s just safer this way,” Stan murmurs. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“That’s rr-really sweet, Stan,” Bill says. “But the oh-only one who should be ww-wuh-worrying about me is me.”

“That’s not true!” Stan says. His head snaps back up, and there are no apologies in his eyes this time. Now they’re all business, determined to tell Bill exactly how he’s wrong. “We’re friends. Friends care about each other. Friends worry about each other. And Richie’s right, this isn’t just your fight. Just, please, trust us?”

Except trust has nothing to do with it. Bill trusts the Losers with every fiber of his being, he would put his life in their hands a million times over. Who he doesn’t trust is Robert. Robert, who is one of the only people to currently know where Georgie Denbrough is being kept.

Still, he murmurs out a quiet, “okay,” because never would he want Stan to think he doesn’t trust him. He falls silent after that, watching quietly as Stan scrolls through article after article.

It makes Stan nervous. Sitting next to Bill, close enough that he can feel his warmth radiating off his body, but not having a word to be said between them. Not that Bill had been very talkative in the past. The taunting for his ever present stutter had been sure to shut him up quick. Although sometimes Stan wonders if anyone else knows that’s the reason for Bill’s soft spoken nature (although that nature may have taken a bit of a turn in light of recent events).

He had only brought his concerns up to Robert once - an affair he had to spend a week preparing himself for. But Robert had barely bat an eye.

“The show needs conflict, Stanley,” he had said. “Besides, people love it. The story of a boy who stands tall and fights back against the bullies. Little boys need to see people like that on their televisions. Don’t you think?”

Stan does in fact think so. Years of acting classes had drilled it into his brain. Representation in the media would reflect back onto the real world. The only problem was, to Bill it wasn’t a TV show. To Bill it was his life.

Stan can still barely stomach the idea. He wonders if he even truly understands the toll it took on his friend.

Gently, he bumps their shoulders together. “Hey. You feeling alright?”

Bill nods without a second thought. Then, after a moment to think, shakes his head. “Eh-Every-Every-th-thing’s a mm-muh-mess.”

Stan sighs. That doesn’t even describe the half of it. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.” Bill offers him a sad smile. It makes Stan’s heart crack, just an extra little splinter to go along with the already broken organ. “What huh-huh-happened ww-wasn’t your fff-fault. I know wh-why you vv-vuh-voted ah-against finding Juh-Juh-Geor-Georgie.”

Stan ducks his head, his cheeks flushing in humiliation. Maybe he was a dick for that. Hell, he definitely was. Georgie’s just a kid, he deserves better than to be hidden away once he’s no longer of any use to Robert. But they would have a better fighting chance after Bill’s birthday. There’s no reason to take any more risks than they already have.

But he doesn’t say any of that. Instead he just mumbles out another apology and tries not to think about the far away look in Bill’s eyes.

“It’s oh-okay,” Bill murmurs. Though Stan is starting to suspect that it’s very much not okay.

“We’ll find him soon,” he promises.

Bill nods. Soon. They’ll find him soon.

Richie still hasn’t talked to Eddie. He had been working up the courage, but now it’s nearly impossible to think about crossing the few feet that separate them. Eddie looks pissed. Like a chihuahua whose toy has just been taken away, and chihuahuas aren’t exactly known for their friendliness in the first place. If he gets too close, he’s bound to get bitten.

It’s not like Richie’s never been on the receiving end of Eddie’s fury before. He’s not known for being the most thoughtful guy in the world, and he’s well known for having a big mouth that’s bound to get him in trouble. But this is different. He’s done more than simply saying the wrong thing or making an off-color joke at a cast party.

He thinks in another life he might find the courage inside him to talk to Eddie. To explain himself. He thinks in that life, Eddie would understand. That they would go on as if nothing had happened, as if Eddie had never been mad at all.

But this life isn’t that life. And Richie doesn’t know if Eddie will ever be able to pretend Richie hadn’t betrayed him. Because Richie knows that’s how Eddie sees it. A betrayal.

And so Richie Tozier does not talk to Eddie Kaspbrak that day. He doesn’t explain himself. And he certainly doesn’t fix anything.

But some things are simply too frightening to do. Sometimes telling someone you love how you feel is scarier than standing up in front of the whole world to carry out a lie made by a power hungry maniac. Because it doesn’t matter if every single person on the planet hates you, as long as you have that one special person by your side. But if that person hates you too, then who is there to turn to?

He forces his gaze away from Eddie, instead focusing it on his phone. He has to focus. Once he’s managed to clear his name, then maybe he can think about talking to Eddie.

In his dazed state, he hadn’t noticed his phone shut off. It’s not a big deal, all he has to do to turn it back on is his thumbprint. What is a big deal is the website he was on seems to have reloaded. And there, in big, bulky letters, is the headline to haunt all headlines:

Fan Claims To Have Discovered Whereabouts Of Missing Child Star William Denbrough.

With rising panic, Richie clicks on the article. He prays to God it’s just speculation. That someone saw someone vaguely similar to Bill and decided to sell the story for a few extra bucks. He can already see it in his head. “It is suspected he’s hiding out in the busy streets of New York.” “That he’s making his way to the real Maine.” “That he was spotted at a gas station somewhere between Oregon and Washington.”

Richie can feel his shoulders start to relax. Yes, he’s sure now that it won’t mean anything at all. He should know better than anyone, the news can be spun any direction you like. You can’t trust everything on the internet.

Unfortunately, this article was spun in the right direction.

Staring back at him is his own face. He’s wearing a grin full of teeth and has one arm around a fan, two of his fingers poking out from behind her head like bunny ears. It’s a pose he does with most of his fans - even if they mock him for it on Twitter and Tumblr - because it makes them laugh. And what better sound is there than the laughter of someone who looks up to you?

Despite the familiar pose, he can tell who this fan is immediately. It’s the fan who ran up to him as he was chasing after Eddie. As he was chasing after Eddie with Bill.

He swears under his breath. He was sure it was dark enough. He was sure his explanation had been enough. He was sure she hadn’t really noticed.

But he should have asked to see the photo.

Because in the background, though blurry and half hidden by the shadows, is Bill.

“Fuck,” he whispers. Then, because one fuck doesn’t fully encompass how he’s feeling, “Fuck!”

Mike’s peeks out from behind the couch. “Richie? Everything okay?”

Richie offers Mike a sarcastic grin. “Just peachy,” he says through his teeth.

“Okay, no need to be a dick about it,” Mike replies coolly. Richie can’t help but feel relief at his calm response. He’s known for lashing out when he’s angry, and it’s often only made his problems worse. But Mike is kind and soothing, a welcomed contrast to Richie’s own internal fury. “What’s up?”

Richie opens his mouth.

Then closes it again.

How is he supposed to explain this? The fan had been talking to him. He had been too lax about letting Bill walk around in the open. It’s his fault this fan had spotted Bill.

His friends would know that. They have always been able to see right through him.

He could lie to everyone. The entire world. He could spin any tale he wanted and play it off as reality.

And he had. He had done it with a grin on his face.

Richie Tozier. Star of The Denbrough Show. It was all he had ever wanted: adoring fans, thousands of instagram followers, no problem getting a date if he were ever in need of one. But it doesn’t matter. It never mattered. Because the only people he could never lie to were the only people that really mattered - the people in this room. And looking around the shoebox of an apartment, he knows they’ll know that it’s his fault.

“Richie?” A hand on his shoulder sends him leaping nearly a foot in the air. But when he turns around, it’s just Bev and the concern in her eyes.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

Bev nudges him gently. “Are you gonna tell us what’s wrong?”

With a horrified jolt, Richie realizes the entire room is staring at him. “I - Um-”

Stan seems to recognize the panic in Richie’s eyes immediately. Before Richie can blink, Stan’s by his side, interlocking their fingers with one hand and gently rubbing his back with the other.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to.”

Richie shakes his head. “I do. I do have to.”

“No-”

“Yes!”

Stan jumps at the force of Richie’s voice. For a split second Richie can see the fear in his eyes, a red hot flash that stabs Richie’s heart and twists until he’s sure it’ll stop beating all together. But then the moment ends. Richie’s heart keeps beating. Time goes on.

“Sorry,” Richie says. “Um - I do. I do have to show you. It’s-” He swallows thickly. “It’s about Bill.”

Bill’s shoulders stiffen. “Mmm-Me?”

Richie nods. “Someone - A fan - I mean, the fan, they took - in our photo-”

“What do you mean the fan?” Eddie asks, his voice sharp and to the point. It sends chills down Richie’s spine.

“The one from the other night!” Richie says. “When you ran out and I went after you, and-”

“And Bill chased after you,” Eddie finishes. His tongue darts out, wetting his suddenly chapped lips. “There’s a photo? Of Bill?”

Richie nods.

“But - Bb-But it www-wuh-was dark,” Bill says. He glances around the room desperately. “Hh-How could sh-she huh-have gotten a guh-guh-good ph-photo?”

“It’s not that good,” Richie says. “But it’s enough. You can tell it’s you for sure.”

Eddie pushes himself to his feet, crossing the room to peer at the photo. Sure enough, there’s Bill. But Eddie himself can’t be seen in the photo.

He can’t help but feel a wave of relief wash over him. He knows it’s nothing compared to what will happen to Bill if he’s caught, but if Sonia Kaspbrak found out her darling boy was hanging around with Richie Trashmouth Tozier again, Eddie would be in for hell.

“Wh-What do we dd-duh-do?” Bill asks.

Bev shakes her head. “I don’t know. Robert’s going to put two and two together. He knows I live on this street.

Her eyes meet Bill’s across the room. The simple action is enough to bring Bill to his feet, enough to get him to cross the room and take a peek at the photo for himself. Mike and Ben are quick to follow, and soon all seven of them are gathered around the kitchen island. It feels weirdly intimate. Like the rest of the world has fallen away, and all that is left are them and this apartment.

“You have to leave,” Bev says. “You all need to leave. Robert can’t know any of you were here.” No one moves a muscle. “I’m serious! I’m not letting you get fucking blacklisted because of me!”

“We’re going to get blacklisted anyway.” To Bill’s shock, it’s Stan’s voice that meets Bill’s ears. He speaks slow and even, and Bill doesn’t have to ask to know he’s been thinking over his next words ever since seeing the photo. “I say we fight back. Against Robert.”

Bill’s head jerks over, staring at Stan with wide, unbelieving eyes. “Rrrr-Ruh-Ruh-Really?”

Stan nods. “Really.”

Richie lets out a shout of horor. “You can’t be serious! Stan we’ll never get out of there alive.”

“I’m not saying we see him in person,” Stan says. “That would be insane. He’s using the media as his weapon, I think we should use it as ours as well.”

Eddie leans across the island. Stan didn’t have any doubts about him being on his side, but the curiosity and excitement that shines in Eddie’s eyes is more than Stan could have ever expected. “What are you thinking?”

“We post our own video,” Stan says.

Ben shares a nervous look with Mike. “What kind of video?”

At that, Stan falters. “I’m not sure yet.”

“We can figure it out,” Bill says. For once, his voice feels steady. “I know what I want to say.”

An hour later, there’s still no response from Robert.

“This is bullshit,” Richie says. As much as he hates the idea of Robert seeing this and making their lives a living hell, the waiting is so much worse. “I thought he would see it immediately. Doesn’t he have tabs on all of us?”

“You would think he would have a whole team of people stalking Bev’s social medias specifically,” Mike says.

“I'm positive he does,” Ben says through a huff. “He’s tried to get her to take stuff down before.”

“Be patient,” Bev says. Despite this, she’s sure she’s refreshed her instagram at least a hundred times in the last hour. “If I see anything from him, I’ll contact you guys.”

“And ih-if he dd-duh-doesn’t respond?” Bill asks.

“We keep pushing,” Bev says. “We’re bound to catch his attention eventually.”

“But how do we know if he hasn’t seen it,” Mike frowns, “or if he’s just planning something worse?”

The group falls silent. Ever since the shutdown of the show, it’s not like any of them have had constant contact with Robert. Their relationship had always been strictly professional. Sometimes the Losers can’t help but wonder if it was less than that to Robert. If they were all just pawns in his mind, moving across the board in a worldwide game of chess.

Then, quiet as a mouse, Eddie’s voice fills the room, “I can find out.”

“Are you ss-sure this is a good ih-id-idea?” Bill asks, watching Eddie pace around his room. The Losers had gone their separate ways soon after hearing Eddie’s plans, and while Eddie had seemed confident in the moment, more and more of that confidence is slipping away now that the moment of truth is upon them.

“No,” Eddie admits. “But it will get us further than playing cat and mouse.” He finally stops pacing, which Bill is silently grateful for because it was starting to make him antsy, and fixes his gaze on Bill. Bill squirms, unable to help but feel like an ant under a microscope. “Are you sure you’re okay going to Stan’s?”

Bill nods. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

A grin breaks out across Eddie’s face. It’s sharp and knowing and Bill doesn’t like it one bit. “Just making sure.” Bill opens his mouth to push the issue, but Eddie cuts him off with a loud huff of air. “Alright. I’m going to ask her.” Bill nods, snapping his mouth shut. “Wish me luck.”

“Good ll-luck.”

Eddie offers him a shaky grin before spinning on his heel and marching out of his room. The rest of the house is, quite frankly, a mess. While Eddie’s room is almost overly clean, the rest of the house looks not unlike something he might see on Hoarders. He weaves throughout unopened boxes - shit from various As Seen On TV ads that his mother actually had the nerve to buy. Sure, she has the money. Robert pays his executive writers well. But the question isn’t can she? It’s should she? And, if Eddie were to be honest, she shouldn’t.

“Mom?”

An excited squeal can be heard from the kitchen “Eddie-Bear!”

Eddie winces. He fucking hates that nickname. But he schools his face into an easy grin as he descends the stairs - entering a much less cluttered area - and turns into the kitchen. If he wants this to go well, he has to play the part of her good, sweet baby boy.

Sonia is inside, hunched over a microwave. There are two Eggos inside, two more already warm and set aside on a plate, and while Eddie can’t admit his love for the waffles, his mouth waters for the homemade pancakes Ben’s mother always sets out.

“How did you sleep, dear?” Sonia asks.

“Good,” Eddie says. “Did you sleep well, mama?”

Sonia nods and pushes the plate closer to Eddie. “Eat, eat. You know breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”

Eddie doubts having the same processed waffles every morning counts as a healthy breakfast, but he doesn’t dare bring this up to his mother. He just silently takes a bite and nods as if the taste hasn’t become bland and flavorless over the months.

“So I was thinking,” Eddie says, “We haven’t had Robert over for dinner in awhile. I haven’t seen him since before the shutdown, it might be nice to catch up and see how he’s doing.”

Sonia’s eyes light up. It makes Eddie sick to his stomach. “Oh, honey, that’s a wonderful idea! Why didn’t you say anything sooner? Oh, I’ll call him as soon as we finish breakfast.”

Eddie pushes down his disgust, forcing himself to grin and bear it. “Great! It’ll be really good to see him again.”

“It will be,” Sonia says. Then, as if it’s an afterthought, though Eddie knows it’s what she’s been thinking of this whole time, “Maybe I can finally ask him about that promotion.”

“Good idea!” Eddie grins. “Maybe then you can buy more As Seen On TV.”

Sonia narrows her eyes at him. “What?”

“It was on in the living room,” Eddie lies. “There was something I thought you might like.”

Sonia gasps quietly. “Oh, I’ll have to check! Eddie, dear, you don’t mind cooking tonight, do you? I wouldn’t want Robert to have to eat take-out.”

But it’s no problem for me to eat take out every night, Eddie thinks bitterly.

“Sure thing,” he says instead. “I’ll go look at recipes now.”

Sonia grins, but none of it holds that motherly kindness Eddie so desperately searches for. “Thank you, Eddie-bear. You’re such a help.”

Eddie plasters his own grin onto his face. “That’s why I’m doing it. To help.”

#stenbrough #reddie #the losers club #bill denbrough #stanley uris #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #ben hanscom #mike hanlon #beverly marsh #stenbrough fanfic #stenbrough fanfiction #the losers club fanfic #the losers club fanfiction

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lethbians · 4 years

Note

78 👀

every little thing she does is magic / every thing she does just turns me on / even though my life before was tragic / now, I know my love for her goes on - #78: every little thing she does - sleeping at last

bill denbrough is a moron. like, he’s not stupid stupid — well, he is, he’s a little stupid — but god, is he an idiot. bill’s the kind of guy to hear the waiter say careful, it’s hot, and take a big, scalding bite anyway; the kind of guy who searches his entire house from top to bottom looking for a pair of jorts only to find he’s been wearing them the whole time (and, obviously, the kind of guy to own jorts in the first place). bill’s the kind of guy who throws his entire body weight into pushing on a pull door, bounces off with a confused “oh!”, and then pushes it again, like it might work the second time.

(it’s okay, he always gets it by the third.)

bill’s also the kind of guy who, when he was a kid, set out little bowls of milk in the garden to help the snails grow big and strong; the kind of guy who bought nice china to put the cat food on so that dr. peanut butter could feel fancy during his meals — the kind of guy who named their cat dr. peanut butter.

bill denbrough was an idiot, but he was a kind, good-intentioned, sweet as hell kind of idiot.

and fuck, if mike wasn’t head over heels for him because of it.

actually, mike was pretty sure bill was head over heels right back. there are moments (moments that stacked up into hours, probably days) when mike’s so positive that bill feels the same way he does that it hurts a little to think about for too long. they’ll be sitting in the field by the hanlon farm talking — well. bill will be talking, and mike will be listening, his smile growing a little bit bigger each time bill calls the barn the “sheep house”. regardless, they’ll be talking, and eventually bill will trail off, and mike will look over to find bill staring, big blue eyes soft and unwavering. when bill realizes he’s been caught, he’ll give this quiet, nervous laugh, and flush as red as the sheep house behind him.

mike never says anything, though. it’s not that he’s scared — at least, he doesn’t think he’s scared. actually, falling in love with bill had happened so gently, so easily, that there was never time to feel anything but safe. bill, with his kind eyes and tender hands, makes mike feel the bravest he’s ever felt. it’s also not that mike doesn’t want to say anything either; mike just doesn’t say anything because it never feels like quite the right time.

there’s a lot of almosts, though. bill pours his entire glass of water on the floor one day after eddie asks him what time it is; it’s not his fault, you know, the watch was just on the wrist of the same hand he’d happened to be holding the glass of water in. mike almost says something then.

once, mike had to watch bill try and make hot chocolate: bill filled up a mug with milk and tried to put it in the microwave, but found the mug was too tall. so he’d dumped out some milk, and tried to put it in again. mike almost says something after that, too.

last week, bill had called mike in a rush of stuttered words and frantic breaths.

“m-my car has been stolen!” he’d said once mike had calmed him down. “i g-got off the bus after w-work and it was just gone!”

“bill,” mike asked, that same little smile on his face. “how’d you get to work this morning?”

“i d-drove, but—“ the man’s voice trailed off as the dots connected.

mike had been so close to saying i’m in love with you bill denbrough he had to literally bite his tongue.

somehow, he’d managed. he’d driven bill to work and followed him back, and then he’d stayed for supper, and when bill finished an incredibly intelligent rant about the importance of the oxford comma by showing mike a minion meme on his phone, mike managed to keep his silence once more.

it’s like everyone in the world has their own little superpower: their own, daily magic. maybe bev’s was always being able to pull off an outfit — even one that shouldn’t have worked on anybody. maybe richie’s was always being able to make someone laugh — even if it took a few tries to get there. maybe bill’s was being the smartest, kindest idiot in all of maine; maybe mike’s was falling in love with him, and being able to keep his mouth shut about it.

“i juh-just think that it could use some s-sprucing up is all,” bill says one day, talking.

“mmm,” mike hums, listening.

“a fresh c-coat of paint, you know?”

“we painted it last fall,” mike points out, because bill had been there to help — his first fall out of college as a bonafide adult with his own apartment and everything, and he’d still chosen to spend most of his free time painting the barn and house so that the hanlons didn’t have to hire anyone.

“i m-meant the inside.” bill sits up in the grass, excitement creeping into his voice as he makes plans. “i think it’d b-be nice if we painted mur— mura— landscapes inside f-for them. so even when they’re s-sleeping, they can s-still be outside.” the man’s on a roll now, practically vibrating with how passionate he is about the whole thing. “i c-can sketch out some ideas later and s-send you pictures. maybe i’ll pull out my wuh-wuh-watercolors tonight, juh-just for fun. it might help them feel less lonely.” bill’s eyebrows furrow: a snag in his thought process. “i don’t know if sheep feel luh-lonely, but, you know. if they do, a home m-makeover might help.”

mike closes his eyes; he can’t take it. it’s so goddamn adorable, honest-to-god fucking precious, that he feels pinned to the ground where he lays. bill wants to paint murals of fields and flowers for his sheep. so they feel less lonely. bill wants to hand paint the sheep house as a favor to the sheep that live there.

if little magic was supposed to work every time, maybe mike’s little magic was only the loving bill part; maybe the keeping his mouth shut was just a herculean restraint he could no longer control.

“bill, you have gotta’ stop saying things like that.” mike’s voice is low and relaxed, and the tornado of butterflies that usually spin around his stomach after bill does something particularly endearing is, for once, absent.

it feels, for the first time, like the right time.

bill pauses in his mental planning, confusion seeping into his face. “things like wuh-what?”

mike opens his eyes, squinting against the rays of the sun before tilting his head to look at bill through the tall blades of grass. “things that make me wanna’ kiss you.”

for a second, bill’s face pulls down further with confusion, before his eyebrows rocket into his red-brown hairline and his cheeks go pink. then, he looks nervous. “wh-why would you—“

bill’s not a total moron. he’s not; he can write a paper so beautifully eloquent it will make you think you’re reading poetry, not just an essay for a history class he only took for elective credits. sometimes there’s just not enough power in bill’s body to power both his brain and his giant heart, and usually his heart won out.

and because bill’s not a total moron, he can’t say he totally didn’t see this coming; he can’t pretend he doesn’t know what this means, and he can’t pretend he doesn’t want it just as badly.

bill tries — not very hard, but he tries — to hold back the smile that threatens. “what will you d-do if i don’t stop?”

like honey, mike’s grin appears: slow and sweet. “i guess i’ll just have to kiss ya.”

“alright.” bill looks over his shoulder at the barn behind him, and when he turns back to the man on the ground he’s got this coy little sparkle in his eye. “sh-sheep house,” he says, and then:

“o-oh. guess you have to k-kiss me now.”

so mike sits up, and he does just that— because bill’s little magic always, always worked.

#hanbrough #mike hanlon #bill denbrough #its bike night babie!!!#is it really a migz hanbrough fic if theres no farm mention #anyways thanks col i nearly cried in the lib #thinkin abt they to this song #my writing #richsbian

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the-sarcastic-trashmouth · 4 years

Text

Until we meet again

Summary: “Muh-Mike,” Bill comments softly as the other hummed gently. “I… I’m scared,” Bill whispered when Mike turned his head to meet Bill’s gaze.

“Scared? Of what?” He asked with a frown when Bill swallowed the lump forming in his throat.

“The--The others forgot already. Wuh--What if that happens to me? You said you’d stay, buh-but Mike… I can’t… I’m so scared.” He whispered before a small sob escapes from his trembling chest.

“Oh, baby boy… I… I’m scared too.” Mike whispered before pulling their foreheads together when Bill surged forward and hugged Mike tightly. “It’ll be okay. We’re gonna be okay.” He promised softly.

“Muh-Mike, I can’t leave you here. Come with me. We’ll run away together. Forget this stuh-stupid town!” Bill begged, cupping Mike’s face as Mike offered him a sad smile.

“I can’t do that, Bill… You and I both know that we can’t do that. And you can’t stay here. You have a gift that’s going to take you places. Those books are something that everyone needs to read, but you’ll never get there if you don’t leave this town.” He whispered when Bill shook his head.

Pairing: Bill Denbrough x Mike Hanlon

Warning: This has smut in it. If you are under 18 years old, please don’t read this.

Mike Hanlon and Bill Denbrough were the last two losers to still be in Derry, Maine at age eighteen. Stan had been the first to leave, followed by Bev, Ben, Eddie, and finally Richie who left over two months ago. None of them have sent letters or anything like they had promised so they wouldn’t forget and honestly, it terrified both Mike and Bill.

Bill and Mike were currently in the bed Mike’s beat-up pick-up truck on a starry summer night. They had blankets out since it was getting rather chillier in the empty field that they were currently in. Their hands were interlocked as their eyes stayed glued to the sky while a comfortable silence fell over the two.

“Muh-Mike,” Bill comments softly as the other hummed gently. “I… I’m scared,” Bill whispered when Mike turned his head to meet Bill’s gaze.

“Scared? Of what?” He asked with a frown when Bill swallowed the lump forming in his throat.

“Muh-Mike, I can’t leave you here. Come with me. We’ll run away together. Forget this stuh-stupid town!” Bill begged, cupping Mike’s face as Mike offered him a sad smile.

“I--I can’t leave you here… It’s not… You’ll be auh-alone!” Bill exclaims when Mike pulls him into a kiss as Bill immediately deepens it.

“Bill, I’ll be okay. We all had a choice. Everyone had a talent that was going to take them somewhere. I belong here. And when that time comes… When he comes back… You’ll be the first one I call.” He promised as Bill buried his face into Mike’s chest.

“I’m sorry… I’m suh-sorry.” Bill whispered as Mike’s fingers ran their course through Bill’s hair that had turned a darker brown.

“Don’t be. Don’t be sorry because you have a chance to get the hell out of this fucking town. Do you hear me, Denbrough?” Mike asked when Bill finally looked up to him.

“Muh-Mike,” Bill whispered before slowly he crawled his way into Mike’s lap as the air around them grew thick. “I’m luh-leaving in a few days… And… And I want to remember you…” Bill whispered softly when Mike snorts.

“This how you want to remember me?” He asked, placing his hands on Bill’s hips when Bill grins down at him.

“Wuh-What better way?” He questioned as Mike rolled his eyes but even he was grinning. “I love you… and I wuh-want you to be my first and always.” He explains when Mike nods.

“Okay, how do you want to do this? There’s some lube in my glove box since someone loves to tease me all the time.” Mike smirks at the flush on Bill’s face.

“I ruh-regret nothing,” Bill stated firmly, causing Mike to laugh as he surged forward before flipping them over. Bill let out a soft squeaking soft as his back hit the metal of bed that was only slightly protected by the blanket, but he still had a pillow which he was thankful for.

“You okay?” Mike asked as Bill looked up to see the glow of the moon surround Michael like he was an angel. All of the air in Bill’s lungs slowly wheezed out of him at such a beautiful sight before him.

“Yuh-Yeah, you’re just… beautiful.” He whispered, reaching out to brush over Mike’s face. He smiled gently at the smooth skin as he glided his thumb over Mike’s cheekbone and back down to his jaw.

“Says the angel in front of me.” Mike resorts before leaning down to kiss Bill who immediately wrapped his arms around Mike’s neck and pulling him closer.

They kissed like they were coming home, easing into it but passionate with each stroke of lips against the other. It set off a spark within Bill’s stomach that burned and spread throughout his entire body like wildfire. His skin felt like it was going to melt off him with each kiss that Mike had placed onto his swelling lips.

“Muh-Mike, lube. Guh-Get the lube.” He panted as Mike grins and kisses down Bill’s neck, causing the other boy’s eyes to roll back into his head. “Fuh-Fuck!” He gasps softly as he tugged on the fabric of Mike’s shirt. There was a soft ripping noise that sounded like the seams threat was tearing, but Bill couldn’t bring himself to be apologetic. “Mike!” Bill whines as Mike finally pulled away.

“Okay, okay! So impatient. You know they say good things come to those who wait.” Mike explains before he slides open the small window on the back of his truck and stretched in to get to the glove box.

“Yuh-You and I both know that I’m nuh-not very patient,” Bill comments, trying to compose himself before he sat up to remove his shirt.

Mike finally pulled back before looking to Bill who was almost the entire way undressed. “I see.” Mike snorts as Bill’s face flushes.

“Shuh-Shut up and make love to me,” Bill grumbles as Mike chuckles and thumps the tube of lube along with a condom onto the blanket before he kissed Bill again.

“You remember the first time we did this when we were seventeen?” Mike asked quietly as Bill groaned.

“Are yuh-you trying to make me luh-lose my erection?” Bill mumbles when Mike starts to laugh.

“Oh, come on! You were so cute! All the sounds you made!” Mike gushed, causing Bill to cover his face and groan.

“That’s it! Guh-Get off me! I’m juh-jerking off in the front seat!” Bill exclaims, pushing at Mike who was laughing harder.

“You couldn’t satisfy yourself even if you did, Baby boy,” Mike whispered, voice taking on a slightly deeper tone as Bill swallowed thickly.

“Thuh-Then stop being a tease and suh-satisfy me.” Bill huffs when Mike kissed down his neck gently.

Since Bill was leaving tomorrow, Mike could leave marks on his boy for Bill to remember for a little longer… even if it was a few days. Tonight was about them uniting as one for the last time because Bill knew that he was going to forget… Bill knew that in about a week, he’s going to forget Mike for God only knows how long and it fucking terrified him.

Mike dug his teeth into the skin above Bill’s belly-button, causing the latter to gasp out before arching his back. Bill’s lust blown eyes slowly flickered down to see Mike continue his path down until he was at the borderline of fabric and skin. Bill couldn’t help the shaky breath that escapes passed his parted lips at the sight of Mike between his spread thighs.

“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever had the pleasure to lay my eyes on,” Mike whispered as Bill’s teeth dug into his lower lip, muffling the whimper that clawed its way up out of his throat. “And you are mine for one more night.” He smiles when Bill’s hand reached down to take Mike’s hand from his hip before squeezing it.

“Nuh-No, I’m yours from now until fuh-forever. My heart is yours, Muh-Mike Hanlon.” Bill whispered when Mike smiles and squeezes it back.

“And I’m yours. Forever, William Denbrough.” He assured as they shared a smile.

“Nuh-Now stop being a sap and fuck me!” Bill huffed, making Mike bust out laughing. “I’m guh-getting dicked down if I have to ruh-ride your dumbass!” He exclaims when Mike smirks at him.

“Not necessary,” Mike explains before pulling off Bill’s boxers, leaving him completely naked while Mike was still fully clothing.

“Wuh-What the fuck. Get these off.” He grumbles, tugging at Mike’s shirt as he tossed it towards the other end of the truck’s bed. “These two.” He murmurs before pulling open the belt of Mike’s jeans.

Mike helped him pull out the belt before it hit the bed with a thunk as metal tapped against metal. The two shared a smile when Mike knelt down between Bill’s legs as Mike slowly kissed up from his knee towards the hardened cock. Bill’s breath caught in his throat as his head thumped back onto the pillow with a shiver of pleasure.

“Muh-Mike.” He begged quietly, feeling his body grow hotter with each kiss. It was absolute torture when Mike got so close to the prize only for him to switch legs and kiss down his thigh. “Mike, yuh-you asshole…” He whimpers and opens his mouth to curse him out only for Mike to wrap his lips around the flushed, swollen head.

Bill’s eyes snapped shut as he arched his back, gripping tightly at the blanket underneath him. His jaw dropped down, but no sound escaped him as the intense, wet heat surrounding the sensitive tip. Bill finally moaned out when Mike’s head slid down to engulf more of the blood-filled muscle into his mouth.

“Fuh-Fuck! Muh-Mike!” He winced as his stutter got worse. It’s actually been getting better through the years which he was thankful for, not it was only every few words that his brain skipped like a broken record. “Fuck, thuh-that’s it.” He praised out, uncaring that he was a little louder than either one of them were used to.

But through the past few years of dating Mike, there was only enough time for hurried handjobs or make-out sessions whenever they could… and they had to be quiet whenever those happened. So, right now, it was just them which meant that Bill could fucking scream to the heavens if he really wanted to.

“Bill,�� Mike panted as he slowly pulled himself off Bill’s cock. There was a string of saliva that connected the two, making Bill’s face flush at the sight. “You think you have two in you?” He questioned as Bill whimpered.

“Huh-Holy shit, you can ask muh-me something like that.” Bill squeaks as Mike laughed gently.

“I want to make sure I can still fuck you after I suck you off.” Mike points out when Bill covered his face.

“Yuh-You were hanging around Richie too muh-much. Only he says suh-such vulgar shit.” Bill comments, causing Mike to grin.

“Yeah, but that twitch you just gave told me that you liked me doing that. You like me talking about fucking you?” He asked when Bill bit his lip as his dick twitched to life. “See, you want me to plow you until you can’t walk.” He whispered.

“Oh muh-my god… I’m gonna fuh-fucking die before we have suh-sex you ass!” He whines before he heard the snick of a cap being opened. He moved his hands to see Mike pouring lube on his fingers as he warmed up the slightly thicker liquid before moving Bill’s thighs further apart. “Muh-Mike--” He’s cut off by Mike shushing him.

“It’s okay. I’ll take care of you.” Mike assured before rubbing the lube around the outside of Bill’s asshole, making the young man shiver gently.

“Pluh-Please,” Bill begged before moaning at the first finger slowly pressing inside. Bill’s eyes fluttered shut as he tried to thrust back against Mike’s hand.

“So beautiful. Look at you. Taking my finger so well, you ready for another one?” He questioned as Bill nods immediately while moaning gently at the feeling. Soon two fingers became three pushing and pulling at a gentle rhythm.

The feeling of Mike’s fingers as they scraped over the muscles inside only to brush over Bill’s prostate, causing the other boy to sob softly. Bill’s hands thrusted forward and wrapped around Mike’s neck before yanking him down so they could be closer. Bill moans out against Mike’s skin as he tried to get the fingers deeper inside of him.

“Fuh-Fuck! Mike, I’m ready--I’m suh-so ready.” He whimpers, looking up to Mike with glassy eyes.

“I said I’d get two out of you and I intend to do so,” Mike comments and before Bill could resort, Mike’s lips were back around Bill’s cock.

Bill felt light-headed from the rampage of pleasure coursing through him as Bill’s fingers scrape gently at Mike’s shoulders. Mike continued to bob his head while his fingers scissored against Bill’s prostate. Bill’s jaw dropped down as his face twisted up in pleasure as he felt Mike’s arm go over his hips so he couldn’t buck up and choke Mike.

Mike felt Bill’s thigh trembling around his shoulders, smirking as much as he could, he leaned down until Bill’s cock hit the back of his throat. He swallowed while rubbing the bundle of nerves with such precision that Bill didn’t stand a chance. Bill screamed loudly, choking out Mike’s name before his body tensed and hot, white pleasure flooded through him.

Bill’s eyes rolled back as his body shook violently from the waves crashing over him. He whimpered at the sharp pleasure slowly turning into too much before Mike finally pulled away as Bill slumped against the blanket. His body was on fire and the cold air of the night seemed like an almost distant memory.

Mike leans down and presses his lips to Bill’s before finally pulling away so he could get the condom he had grabbed with the lube. He ripped open the foil packet before rolling it down onto his throbbing cock as he reaches for the lube only for Bill to intercept.

Bill flashes him a sheepish grin as he opens the cap to get the liquid onto his hand, warming it up before finally wrapping it around Mike. The other young man let out a moan since his cock had mostly been ignored this entire time.

“Luh-Look who’s beautiful nuh-now.” Bill grins at Mike’s snort before leaning down as they lock mouths again. “I’m ready.” He assured as Mike nods, lining the head of his cock to Bill’s asshole. “Tuh-Take me,” Bill whispered before gasping out as Mike slowly sunk in, making both of them moan out.

“I think every time with you will always feel like the first time,” Mike whispered as Bill laughs before looking to him. “It feels like I’m coming home.” He smiles before touching their foreheads together.

“Suh-Such a sap.” Bill chuckles before Mike adjusts himself so he could slowly pull out, causing Bill to shiver at the feeling. Bill loved being this close to Mike, it made him feel like there were two pieces of one heart.

“Fuck…” Mike grunted softly as he started to roll his hips while Bill tilted his head to the side. Mike’s lips slowly descended down his neck as the two bodies merged together with a slap of skin. “Bill, I love you so much.” He pants before biting at his collarbone as Bill moans out.

“I luh-love you too,” Bill whispered before wrapping his legs around Mike’s waist. “Please… Guh-Go faster.” He whines when Mike took ahold of his hips.

“Ssh, I wanna take my time. This is the last time I get to have you for who knows how long.” Mike whispered as Bill’s heart squeezed tightly.

“If yuh-you’d go with me--” He’s cut off when Mike thrusted harder, making him cry out from the sudden onslaughter of pleasure.

“You think I don’t want to?” Mike asked as Bill’s nails dug into Mike’s shoulders. “I do, but you can’t stay here and I--” He’s cut off by a groan escaping his lips. “And I have too.” He pulled Bill’s legs from his waist before taking them into the crooks of his elbows.

Bill gasps as Mike sat up on his knees, making his cock slide deeper into Bill. Mike gritted his teeth before he thrusted upwards while every other thrust hit Bill’s prostate like it was on a mission. Bill’s face flushes as he cried out, tossing his head back to expose his bruising neck.

“Muh-Mike!” He cried out, feeling tears flood down his face. He couldn’t tell if it was from the pleasure or the thought of losing Mike as he sobs gently. Bill pulled Mike’s face up to kiss him as Mike’s cock started to drag out of him at a faster pace.

“Heh, so beautiful.” He praised when Bill slowly reached a hand between the two of them. “You close?” He asked, breathlessly as Bill nods quickly.

His hand wrapped around his pulsing cock before pumping it along with Mike’s pace as he groaned out. It felt like he was on cloud-nine with only him and Mike being the only ones there. His forehead touched Mike’s as their hot breath mingled together.

“Muh-Mike… Mike, fuck, I’m--” His body tenses up again as he shoots off between their sweat-slick bodies. He moans loudly as it splashed against Mike’s chest and his own, coating it in the thick, sticky liquid.

“That’s it. There you go.” Mike whispered while he continued to thrust inside as Bill moans, body shaking from his orgasm. “I’m… I’m right there with you.” He grunted before finally coming, coating the inside of the condom as Bill whimpered gently. “You’re okay.” He promised when Bill slumped against him tiredly.

“Mike…” He slurred softly before wincing gently as Mike slowly pulled out and removed the condom, tying it off before chucking it into the woods.

Mike cleaned them up with the blanket as Bill made a face at the feeling before the two shared a smile. Mike handed him back his clothes when Bill started to shiver now that his body wasn’t producing heat like it was.

“Stay at my place tonight.” Mike murmurs when Bill smiles before kissing him passionately.

“There’s nuh-nowhere else I’d rather be.” He promised as they packed everything up and went back to Mike’s farm so they could take a shower and then sleep.

The next morning, it felt like there was this hole in Bill’s chest as he packed up his things into his car. He’d glance at Mike every so often and the two would share a soft smile, but no words were spoken. He wanted to unpack everything and stay with Mike, but he knew that Mike would never let him do that.

“I… I guh-guess this is it.” Bill comments, shutting the trunk of his car before looking to Mike who has his hands shoved in his jeans.

“I guess so…” Mike whispered as Bill surged forward and hugged Mike tightly. Tears filled his eyes as he clung to Mike like a lifeline. “I love you so much, Bill Denbrough. And wherever you go… you’ll do amazing things.” He promised as he pulled back and touched their foreheads together.

“I-I love you tuh-too,” Bill whispered before kissing Mike over and over and over again until neither of them could breathe. “Wherever I go… I nuh-know that you’ll be with me.” He whispered before they hugged once more.

“Go out and see the world… And when you come back… Tell me everything. Even the small stuff.” Mike grins as Bill nods before he got into his beat-up car and turned it on. “Until we meet again, Bill!” He called as Bill pulled out of his driveway.

“Until wuh-we meet again, Homeschool!” Bill called back before he started off out of Derry, Maine with this ache in his chest.

Bill glanced out the rearview mirror until he couldn’t see Mike anymore. His teeth dug into his lower lip as he fought not to turn around and go back… but he couldn’t. Mike was right. He needed to get the fuck out of this town. All he could think about was Mike and how much he couldn’t wait to see him again…

Too back that wouldn’t be for almost twenty-seven years…

#Bill Denbrough x Mike Hanlon #Hanbrough #Bill loves Mike #Mike loves Bill #Mike is a bean #Bill has to leave Derry #Mike can't leave Derry #Bill doesn't want to leave Mike here #Dorks in love #Soft fluff #Soft boyfriends #Sad ending #Fluff with a sad ending #Bill leaves #smut #Other losers are mentioned #Bill and Mike are scared

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kissmebilldenbrough · 4 years

Text

Feels Like I’ve Known You Forever (Bill Denbrough x Reader) ⚤

@gabiatthedisco said:

“hi! can you do a HC, Bill x reader, where they are really good friends since they were babies and now that they are teenagers they started liking each other? a lot of teasing of Richie and Bev, please! thank you”

You and Bill had been best friends practically out of the womb.

Your moms had met each other at a post-natal yoga class, and after talking for a few weeks, lost contact after the class had ended.

As fate would have it, their family ended up moving a few doors down from you, and almost like it was meant to be, you reconnected and stayed that way for many years to come.

Upon first meeting Bill, you had waddled over to him in all your pudgy toddler glory, and stated, “We’re best friends now.”

Bill, shyer and more cautious than you, murmured out a tiny, “Okay,” and you had been practically inseparable ever since.

When Bill was 3, he padded out onto a busy street when his mom wasn’t looking, and got struck by a car, knocking into the side of a building and falling unconscious.

He was non-responsive for seven hours before finally coming to— you, of course, being too young to really remember or understand what had happened.

He walked away from the incident practically unscathed except for the stutter he developed on account of the accident.

You accepted this change with the kind of apt, unquestioning acceptance unique to young children, something Bill was grateful for in light of everyone else fussing over him and his impediment.

After that, you sort have became Bill’s un-appointed protector against the douchebags that made fun of him for his stutter.

On one memorable occasion, you had chased after Henry Bowers, shouting various expletives at him as Bill lay slunk against a wall, boasting his own injuries.

Henry had spun around on his heel, coming after you, shouting derogatory terms as Bill leapt to his feet, pushing him to the ground and yelling, “S-stay away from h-h-her, y-yuh-you bastard!”

Henry had snarled, getting to his feet, “Oh, you are so dead, Denbrough!”

They had fled not more than a minute after that, hearing the distant chatter of nearby policemen stationed around the area, in wake of the recent disappearances, but not before they could give Bill a black eye.

He had slunk to the ground, moaning in pain, “Y-yuh-You okay, Y/N?”

You had shook your head, clicking your tongue at him, “You just got the shit beat out of you, Billy, and you’re asking if I’m alright?”

He had shot you a crooked grin, before wincing in pain.

You went to the nearby drug store, trading a nickel for a bag of ice, holding it gently against his tender wounds.

Looking back, there— crouched in that alley as Bill watched you, fascinated as you cared for his wounds, muttering about how you were gonna kill Henry Bowers under your breath— might have been the first moment you started to fall in love.

That had been just one summer ago.

You and Bill had met the other Losers earlier on— Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak, and Richie ‘Trashmouth’ Tozier being your friends since grade two, but you had only become acquainted with Beverly Marsh, Ben Hanscom, and Mike Hanlon the summer of 1989.

When Georgie had died, just one year before, during Derry’s worst flood in decades, you had felt the loss equally as hard as Bill, thinking of Georgie as somewhat of a younger brother.

You remembered running over to his house once the cops arrived, him walking out on his porch in almost a daze, and like there was a magnetic field pulling you two together, you fell against each other in a bone-crushing hug.

“Please tell me it’s not true,” you whispered, gripping onto the back of Bill’s jacket like a lifeline.

He had just held you tighter, burying his face in your neck as he sobbed, a horrified look on your face as you cradled his head, wondering how the night had taken such a turn for the worse.

Thinking back, that moment had been another push into what was now rapidly blooming between you two— a shared moment of tragedy.

There, with Bill’s salty tears pressed against your cheek, and your hand fisted in his jacket, you had really started to consider just what the boy meant to you.

Those had been hard times, and although they would never leave, those dark, looming clouds seemed to be parting, making way for little rays of sunshine in your lives.

Like today— the last day of school, the sun high in the sky, the bell signalling freedom for two whole months, and Bill Denbrough right by your side and you walked over to join the other Losers on the soft grass.

“I’m telling you, guys. There could be ticks in this grass! I could get a tick bite! Or Lyme disease! Or maybe the pollen will make my throat swell up!” you could hear Eddie rambling, a few feet away.

“Eddie, you don’t even have seasonal allergies,” Stanley— always the voice of reason, said.

“Who knows? My mom says sometimes they can just happen spontaneously. If my mom finds out I was out here, I am dead. You hear me? I’ll spend all night being poked and prodded in the emergency room!” he took a reverent gasp of his inhaler, Richie’s hand falling on his shoulder.

“Relax, Eddie Spaghetti, you’re too cute for the ticks to bite!” he said, pinching his cheek.

“Don’t call me that! You know I hate it when you—“

“Hey guys!” Stanley called to you, finally noticing your presence as you walked into the schoolyard.

“H-hey, S-S-Stanley,” Bill smiled, eyes wandering to you as you grinned, fist-bumping Stan.

“Wuh-what have you guys been uh-up to?”

Richie snorted, “Getting out of school, dingus. Ms. Clarkson tried to keep me from leaving, prob’ly wanted some action.”

“Richie!” Beverly chastised him, looking grossed out, various members of the Loser Club sharing the same look.

“Suh-oh, w-hat did you s-s-say then, R-R-Richie?”

“I said ‘nuh-uh, senõr!’ and made a break for it,” Richie cawed, absentmindedly dumping a wad of grass he’d been picking at into Eddie’s lap, who made a horrified face and flung it off him.

You watched this interaction, giggling softly to yourself as you picked stray flowers off the grass, starting to meticulously thread them into a crown as Bill watched, fascinated.

“Have you guys got any plans for the summer?” you asked.

“I wuh-was thinking we could g-g-go to the B-B-Barrens,” Bill suggested, “we could b-b-build a dam.”

“That sounds fun, Bill,” you smiled at him, his lips twitching and eyes glittering at the compliment, “good idea.”

Beverly and Stan smiled knowingly at each other, while an oblivious Ben piped up:

“I know how to build a dam,” he said, “maybe I can help.”

“Of c-cuh-course you can h-help, Ben, you’re part of the Luh-Losers club now.”

Ben, unaware of the name donned upon the group he’d just recently joined, and having long since associated the word ‘loser’ with nothing good, frowned.

“That’s what our friend group is called,” Eddie provided, “the Loser Club. You’re our friend now, so you’re a Loser, with a capital ‘l’.”

“Oh,” Ben said, smiling shyly at his lap as Mike patted his back.

“Say, Haystack,” Richie started, “How’d you learn how to build a dam anyway?”

“Oh, I build things all the time,” Ben said nonchalantly.

“Like what?” Eddie asked, sounding mildly interested as the sunlight twinkled around them.

“Oh, mostly Erector sets,” Ben said dismissively, Richie snickering in response.

“Speaking of erect, Eddie wanna know what your mom said last n—“

“Shut up, Richie!” he said shrilly, clapping a hand over his mouth.

Richie, presumably, licked his hand, to which Eddie pulled it away, horrified, “Do you have any idea how many germs you just gave me? My mom will have a bird!”

Ben looked around, confused, not yet acclimated to the curious relationship between Eddie, Richie, and allegedly— Eddie’s mom.

At this, your fingers finally stopped twining the flower crown together, and you grinned at Bill, setting it in his hands.

“Go on, Bill, put it in my hair,” you said, gazing softly at him as he stuttered out an, “Oh-okay.”

At this point, the rest of the Losers turned to watch this interaction, unbeknownst to you and Bill, who were busy trying not to stare at each other as he gently threaded the flowers through your soft, sun-warmed hair.

Bill’s hands seemed to linger a moment, shyly tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, eyes seemingly glued to you as he blushed.

Richie stuck two fingers in his mouth, letting out a short whistle, the two of you breaking apart bashfully— Bill, more so than you.

“Bill, why do you keep staring at her?” Stanley said, smiling in a way that said he knew exactly why Bill was gazing at you like a lost puppy.

Bill, hurriedly trying to hold together whatever fragile bits of his ego remained, stuttered out, “I-I’m not!”

“Yeah, yeah, and Eddie’s mom—“

“Finish that sentence, I dare you, Richie,” Eddie interrupted.

“Bill and Y/N, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G, first comes love, then comes marriage—“ Richie drawled teasingly, making fun of Bill more than you.

“Wuh-woah, h-hold up,” Bill protested, flushing bright red.

“Bill asked me to marry him when we were like, five,” you provided, Bill shooting you a betrayed look.

“HAHAHAHA,” Richie crowed.

“Well, what’d you say?” Ben asked, leaning on his pudgy hands, elbows dug into the grass—ever the romantic.

“I was like, five, I think I bonked him over the head with a stick or something.”

Bill muttered something under his breath.

“What was that, Bill?” Richie said.

“I s-said she hit me o-over the h-h-head with a stick a-and called me silly.”

“Oh my God,” Ben laughed, Beverly and Stan joining in.

“Oh, so you do remember, huh, Denbrough? Where’s my ring?” you joked.

Bill flushed impossibly deeper at this, burying his face in his hands as you laughed good-naturedly.

“Go easy on him, Y/N,” Stan grinned, “last time I checked, he had two nickels and a quarter to his name.”

“Awe,” you chuckled, placing a hand on his back, “poor Bill.”

As the Losers started to depart, promising to meet at the Barrens the next day, you and Bill lingered behind, starting to walk back to your street.

Bill stopped you under the bleachers, “W-wuh-wait, Y/N.”

He picked something off the ground— glittering silver in the sunlight. He held it up, and you could see it was a small ring— with a thin band of silver and a glittering red gemstone pressed into it. The kind of rings you’d find at the bottom of your prize cereal on a Sunday morning.

“Would you look at that, Billy,” you grinned, “you found a ring. Better save that for some special girl, it’ll save you a fortune,” you joked.

You started to continue walking, assuming he was just joking around, but then he said, “Wuh-what, Y/N!”

You turned around, and he shyly slipped it over your ring finger, holding your hand for a moment.

“Well, well, well, Billy,” you managed, cheeks turning pink, “looks like Richie Tozier isn’t the smoothest Loser after all.”

You grinned at him, starting to walk, a very flustered Bill Denbrough in tow, seemingly stuck looking at his shoe.

You pause a moment, looking thoughtfully at him, “Hey, Billy.”

His eyes flicked up to meet your gaze.

You walked over to him slowly, gently cupping his cheek with your hand as you lean in and kiss him.

The kiss was chaste, sweet. The first one for both of you. It tasted like sunlight and childhood and all the warm feelings of the summer. Butterflies fluttered happily in your stomach.

You pulled away a moment, watching Bill’s stunned, breathless expression. You grinned and leaned back in, kissing him softly two more times before finally pulling away.

“I-I- Y-Y/N, I—“ he stuttered, face pink as his gaze flicked back between your lips and eyes, “I...”

He surged forward, his arm loosely slinging around your back as he kissed you, tentatively, softly, tasting like love and innocence and new beginnings.

You smiled against his lips, stroking his cheek as you part, looking at each other in wonder for a moment, before he reached out and righted your tipping flower crown with a shy smile.

“Come on, Billy,” you said softly, taking his hand, “we’ve got a whole summer ahead of us.

And there, running hand in hand through the field as the sun glowed high in the sky on that fateful summer day, you felt a lifelong friendship beginning to turn into something more.

There, riding double on Silver, your arms wrapped around Bill’s waist, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

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scentedbygunpowder · 5 years

Text

Moms Made Fullmetal Week, 2019 Day 4: Learn/Teach/I’m Sorry Word Count: 2333 Author: Katie/Ally (scentedbygunpowder) Rating: PG Characters: Riza Hawkeye, Hawkeye’s Mom (Clarise), Berthold Hawkeye; Mentions/Minors: General Grumman, General Gumman’s wife Summary: Clarise Elizabeth Grumman Hawkeye may not have had much time with her daughter, but she can hope and pray that what time she had was worthwhile.

~*~

Learn/Teach/I’m Sorry

Clarise Elizabeth Grumman Hawkeye had always been a stubborn woman. From her earliest memories she remembered adoring her mother, but coming in conflict with her father. He was a man with his eye on power for the future, and he had no problem using his family to help him get there. Her mother had a weak constitution, and thus often went along quietly with his plans, not having the will to argue. But Clarise had rebelled, especially as she grew older and understood just the kind of games her father was playing. She wanted no part of them. She had the same aptitiude for them, though, and she was determined to either beat him, or remove herself from his games.

When the opportunity had come to remove herself from them, she had taken it. It wasn’t how she thought she was going to do it, but life was always like that. Of course, as a teenager planning she hadn’t expected her own path to include a small girl who was just as stubborn as she was, and just as determined not to listen to her as she had been towards her father.

As she eyed the toddler, she couldn’t help but think of the book she had picked up on parenting the last time she had gone into the city. It had lots of useful advice—and lots that Clarise found not helpful at her. The least helpful had been “You’ll learn in time, and you’ll learn by doing—the same as your child will.”

It really hadn’t helped Clarise any. It had just made things more frustrating. After all, a baby was a baby and they didn’t know what was good for them! That’s why they had parents!

“Riza! Riza put that down!” Clarise reached for the little girl, trying to snatch a stick of charcoal out of her hand. She had no idea where the little girl had gotten it from, but she suspected it had come from Berthold’s alchemy supplies.

The one year old just glared defiantly at through blond bangs and from under the table, clutched it harder, and screamed.

“Riza Hawkeye!” Clarise snapped out. “I’ve about had enough of this!”

Riza screamed again, bringing the stick closer to her mouth.

“Riza…” She warned, already moving chairs out of the way so she could get to her daughter.

Riza glared at her, and then stuck the stick in her mouth. It didn’t take her long before she was yelling again, but this time it was more of a wail of displeasure. Clarise stopped, crouched in front of the table and waited to see what was going to happen next. Riza looked at the charcoal stick like it had betrayed her, and threw it, immediately reaching for her mother. Clarise sighed, but held her arms out, and Riza came right into them. She lifted the baby up, and took her towards the kitchen, both cuddling and scolding the wailing toddler. “I told you to put it down, didn’t I?” she said. “I’m sure you’ll remember now.” She took a rag and dipped it in some water, washing Riza’s mouth out, then took a soft teething stick and put it in a little honey, giving that to Riza instead. Still crying, Riza took it, sucking and chewing on it, and snuffling against her mother’s shoulder now. Clarise held her as she walked back over to where Riza had thrown the charcoal.

“Charcoal is no good, Riza. Icky. Yucky.” She said as she picked it up and held it out for Riza to see.

“Ick. Yuck,” Riza agreed, her brown eyes still on it, but clearly not wanting it anymore. In fact, the next time Riza found some charcoal—really, Berthold should be better about keeping it picked up by now—she brought it to Clarise, repeating the words of “Ick. Yuck.” to her.

Hm. Perhaps there was something to this learn by doing business, something that Clarise needed to reconsider. She was hesitant to let Riza explore and learn on her own, afraid of her daughter getting hurt or sick or injured. She always had been. But that night, as she watched Berthold play with their daughter and heard her laughs, Clarise thought it over. She had always been so restricted by her parents, her father trying to force her into a certain mold, and her mother not strong enough to keep up with Clarise. Perhaps she needed to let Riza learn on her own some more. Perhaps it would help the little girl more in the long run if she explored and learned now, while both her mother and father were nearby.

Maybe she could let her little girl learn about the world in ways she hadn’t been able to.

~*~

“No, Riza. Icky. Don’t pick that up. That’s icky.”

Clarise watched as her two year old looked up at her from where she had paused to look at something right outside of the fruit stall they had stopped at. “Why?” she asked her mother.

Clarise took a better look at it, realizing it was a rotten apple. “Because it’s rotten,” Clarise said.

“Oh.” Riza considered that, then seemed to think some more. “Why is it rotten?”

“Because it got old, and that’s what happens to old fruits.”

“Oh.” A pause. “Why?”

The lady at the stall chuckled. “She’s a smart one, Clarise, your Riza. Full sentences already and lots of questions.”

“Lots of everything,” Clarise said with a smile. “She’s always asking questions, always wanting to know more, and always watching. She learned how to speak full sentences early on, I think just so she could ask her questions.”

“Always?” the lady said with a little chuckle. “Those questions must get a little old.”

“Not really,” Clarise said. “She likes to learn. And I figure, if she’s watching and learning, well, I might as well teach her. It’s not going to hurt her, at any rate.”

“I suppose so,” the lady said. “In a few years she’ll be ready for school. I’m sure she’ll be far passed the others by then, if you’re teaching her so already.” She nodded at Riza, who was gazing intently at the sign with the picture of apples by it. “Looks like she’s already trying to read.”

Riza was looking at the picture of the apples, and the word “apple” beside it intently. “Apples,” she finally said, pointing at the picture. Her finger moved to point to the word next to it. “Apples?” she said. “Mommy, is it apples?”

Clarise blinked at her surprised. “Yes,” she said. “That says apples.”

Riza beamed.

Clarise considered.

~*~

“The f...fish is red. The w..wuh-ah-t-ee-rr…wuhahteer…wateer…”

“Water.”

“water… is blue. The p-luh-ah-nn-t-ss…plants… are gr…green.

“Very good, Riza. Can you read it again?”

“The fish is red. The w..wateer—water—is blue. The plants are green!”

“Very good, Riza!” Clarise squeezed her daughter from where she read on her lap.

Riza grinned up at her mom, “I read it!” the three year old said.

“You did!” Clarise said. “I’m so proud of you! Do you want to read some more to me?”

“Yes!”

“Then we’ll finish this book, and you can help Mommy with supper, okay?”

“Okay!”

Clarise listened as Riza slowly and carefully read the simple book, only stumbling over the words here and there. She had started teaching Riza her letters and counting when she was still two, as the girl had seemed interested in it. At that time she hadn’t actually been reading, although she had been making connections between pictures, shapes, and words. But the more that Clarise had taught her, the quicker Riza had caught on. She was still more than half a year away from being four, and she was already reading small sentences, although she needed help. She had also gotten very good at counting and had picked up quickly on how her mother did things around the house. She hadn’t learned as much from Berthold, as he didn’t want her around his alchemy work, just in case of something dangerous, but she had learned a few things from him as well.

Clarise hadn’t realized just how much Riza had learned to do until some of the ladies commented on just how well little Riza could do things, and how their own children hadn’t known to do similar things at that age. That had made up Clarise’s mind. If Riza could learn that much just by watching, then surely she could learn more if she was actually taught.

Every day they went over the letters and numbers. She had Riza count things to her and describe them to her. She had her help her read recipes and spell out words that she didn’t know. Clarise made sure to count things out loud herself. She made sure to describe things using varied vocabulary. She made sure to read out loud, running her fingers under words when Riza was watching. She made sure to explain what she was doing and why.

She taught.

Riza learned.

“The fish is red. The water is blue. The plants are green. The ducks are yellow. The sheep are white. The fruit is purple. The flower is orange. The cow is brown. The dog is black. There are colors everywhere.”

Yes, Riza was learning rapidly. “Good job!” Clarise said. “Now how about you help Mommy with supper?”

“Can I read to Daddy?” Riza asked, looking up at her mom.

“Daddy is working right now. But how about after supper?” Clarise offered, glancing towards her husband’s study door.

“Okay! I’ll read to him tonight!”

“Good girl,” Clarise said, kissing her head. “Now come help Mommy read the recipie for supper. You can learn how to cook!”

Riza giggled, clearly happy. “Yay! I like learning! Learning is fun!”

Clarise smiled, standing up and putting Riza down. If it made her daughter happy, Clarise would teach her everything she could.

“Mommy? It said the ducks are yellow and the sheep are white. But outside the ducks are white and the sheep are kinda brown.”

“Just different kinds of ducks. And the sheep are just dirty.”

“Oh. Can we give the sheep a bath? And are there lots of different ducks?”

Well. Perhaps teaching her everything was going to require more patience then Clarise realized.

~*~

“….Mommy?”

Clarise turned her head, looking at the doorway through bleary eyes. Through all the people that were in her bedroom—the doctor, the neighbors, her husband—she could just make out Riza. Riza was standing in the doorway, a book held in her hands, one that was too complicated for the four-year-old to read alone yet.

“Riza,” she breathed out, panting heavily. There was a cloth on her head, trying to keep her fever down, although it wasn’t working. Still, even through it all, she could tell that Riza was upset, was scared.

“Mommy? Can you read to me? You said you’d read this book to me. I really want read it with you!” Riza asked her.

“I’m sorry, Riza,” Clarise said, coughing a little as she did. “But Mommy doesn’t feel like reading to you right now.”

“Are you sure?” Clarise’s heart broke. She could hear the fear in Riza’s voice. “You—you promised that we’d read it together.”

“Your mother needs to rest, dear,” their neighbor was saying. “She’s sick. But I’ll read it with you.”

Riza pulled away, clutching the book to herself. “No!” she said. “I don’t want to read it with you! I want to read it with Mommy!”

“I know dear, but your mother needs her rest. Why don’t we just leave her alone and—“

“No!” Riza darted around the woman, and under other legs, making her way to her mother’s side, the book in her hands, and practically threw herself on the bed. “Mommy, please!” she said, and Clarise could see the tears on Riza’s face. “You said you’d read it to me! So you have to! You have to!”

“Riza.” Berthold was standing over both of them, and reached for their daughter.

“No!” Riza said, crying now. “No, no! Mommy has to read the book with me! Please!”

Berthold picked her up, and held the little girl closely. “Riza, please calm down.”

“No! Mommy, Mommy, please!”

“Wait.” Clarise’s voice was weak, but it was there. “Just…” she coughed again, and took another breath, shallow though it was. “Let me read a little to her.”

“Clarise—“ Berthold said.

“Please,” Clarise begged.

The room seemed to give in then, and Riza was let go, allowed to sit next to her mother. “I’ll help you hold the book open, Mommy,” she said. “And help you read if your eyes get tired.”

“Thank you, my darling,” Clarise said back, her voice light. She started reading, although her voice was weak, and she stumbled over words. Riza did her best to help her where she could, Berthold helping out here and there with a tear choked voice.

Her last time reading with her daughter. And everyone in the room except for Riza knew it.

She suddenly realized that no one was reading anymore, and Riza was asking her why she wasn’t reading anymore, fear in her voice. She tried to talk, but she couldn’t manage it. Her sight was blurring.

“I’m sorry,” she thought.

She could hear her little girl getting more distraught, and her husband’s desperate voice.

“I’m sorry,” she thought again, wanting desperately to comfort them, but unable to do so.

“I’m sorry Berthold.” She couldn’t be here to ground him anymore.

“I’m sorry, my Riza,” she couldn’t be there to teach her anymore. “I hope what I’ve taught you and what you’ve learned has been enough.”

As she felt her life slipping from her, felt her time end, Clarise learned her hardest lesson yet. She knew she had done her best to learn, to teach, and to pass on knowledge and skills to her daughter. Now she had to learn to let it go, and hope it was enough.

#moms-made-fullmetal-2k19 #riza hawkeye #fma fanfiction #FMA fanfic #writing #my writing #And another sad one ouch

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mitchsmarners · 5 years

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if your love was bad for you.

Pairing: Bill Denbrough/Richie Tozier (Bichie) Prompt: angsty unrequited type of situation with a happy and/or bittersweet ending. My fill for @sinningtozier for the @it2ficexchange Trigger warning for mentions of cheating and recreational drug use.

READ ON AO3.

Richie Tozier is fourteen years old, and he was kissed by Bill Denbrough for the first time. They were sitting down in the Toziers spacious basement. The last couple of weeks, since starting high school, Richie along with Bev, Stan and Bill had started dabbling in smoking weed. Eddie was always quick to turn up his nose at the mere thought and then launch into a rant about the harm of lung cancer. Ben, a little similarly to Eddie, seemed convinced that his mother would be able to take one look at him and now what they’d been doing. He was quick to duck out once somebody brought it out, always quick to cite a separate reason while everybody knew the truth. Mike would laugh off all his friends suggestions of him trying it, smiling to himself as though he had some sort of secret.

This evening, only Richie and Bill were left behind, with everybody else already on their ways home or somewhere else. Darkness had settled over Derry, Maine, and all the Losers knew it was dangerous place to be caught outside once the sun went down. The murders of 1989 might have stopped, and Henry Bowers might be sitting behind the walls Juniper Hill, but his minions still walked free and it just felt... sinister. This town was beyond ruined for the young teens that lived there, and they all often counted down the days until they were able to leave and never look back.

“Do you ever think about leaving this place, Big Bill?” Richie asked, resting his hands on his stomach. His high was rapidly falling, as Richie found was usually true. It was a though his brain couldn’t hold it even when it wanted to, always coming down much faster than any of his friends. Maybe his brain just moved too fast, his father always told him it did.

“Everyday.” Bill responded immediately. His stutter was always non-existent in moments like this, Richie had noticed more than once. While his stutter had gotten less obvious the older they got, but it never really went away completely except when it was just the two of them. That thought always made Richie feel like a little fuzzy inside.

“Where would you go?” Richie asked, still looking up at the ceiling a little pointedly. Bill was maybe closer to him than Richie had originally thought they were laying, he could feel the heat radiating off of him. “When you leave Derry?”

“As far away as possible,” Bill said with a sigh. “England, maybe. All the way across the ocean sounds good.” Richie hadn’t even had the chance to open his mouth before Bill was reaching out and pinching them shut.

"If you even think about doing the British guy right now, you’re not allowed to come visit me ever.”

Richie knocked Bill’s hand away, grinning toothily up at him. “Aye, matey, I would never be a visiting ‘ou. We’ll across the pond together.”

Bill scowled down at Richie’s terrible, slightly pirate-like, accent before his face softened at the words. Before Richie could really react to anything, Bill was leaning down and pressing his lips to Richie’s. It just a quick brush, then Bill was gone. Laying back on the ground with a simple, beep beep trashmouth.

★ ★ ★

Richie Tozier is fifteen years old, and he still fucking hated clowns. They were creepy, alright? There was something about those pale faces matched with all those bright colours that made Richie’s skin crawl. He told Bill Denbrough as much, when he linked his arms through Bill’s and pulled him away.

“Then why don’t you creep yourself, th-t-then?” Bill asked him with a chuckle. Richie let out a loud, mock-offended noise and moved to pulled away but Bill tugged at him. Tucked him back into his side. “Come on, let’s g-g-get hot dogs.”

Richie followed with Bill, tucked a little happily under Bill’s arm. After that stupid stoned kiss the year before, Richie’s crush on Bill Denbrough that he’d been ignoring since- well, probably since kindergarten- had bubbled itself up to the surface and was constantly chewing at his self peace. It didn’t help that Bill had never mentioned it again, making it clear to Richie that it meant nothing to Bill and everything to him.

Richie had chatted Stan’s ear off for a good couple of months after it had happened, which Stan had spent the time insisting that Bill did like Richie, he must have if he kissed him, and even trying to encourage Richie to ask Bill out. That had all fallen apart when Bill had dragged over some girl from his writer’s society, and introduced her as his new girlfriend. Richie had been crushed, but had avoided Stan’s looks of concern and pity, always quick to push aside feelings when they start to see even slightly troublesome.

That had been a few months ago, still, and Richie supposed that Bill and his girlfriend were still together, he’d mention her every couple of days of things they’d done, but Richie rarely saw her. She never sat with them at lunch or hung out with them outside of school. He’d sometimes get a glimpse of Bill walking with her in the hallways, and Bill now sat with her during history instead of Richie, but they weren’t the closest couple from what Richie was ever able to see. Didn’t stop it from stinging a little bit, the confirmation that kissing Richie was nothing to Bill.

Bill paid for Richie’s hot dog and drink, even though Richie had his own money from the part time job at the movie theater, and Richie smiled a little bashfully when Bill handed it to him. “I-I sort of h-h-hated carnivals, too. They’re t-t-too loud.”

“I’m too loud,” Richie answered without thinking, one of those little times when his personal insecurities came shining through his joking composure.

Bill turned to look at him, his brow furrowing. “You a-are loud.” He agreed, and Richie hunched in on himself slightly. “Bu-buh-but not too loud.”

Richie smiled, nudging Bill’s shoulder with his own. “Thanks, Big Bill.” Richie did something he knew he shouldn’t do, something that was wrong and not good. Bill wasn’t Eddie, who would laugh and then flip him off, but Richie still found himself doing it.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Bill’s cheek. He pulled back quickly and offered up a small smile. He started turning away, but Bill cupped Richie’s chin and pulled him back. Kissed him on the lips. Richie let out a gasp as he felt Bill’s lips moving against his own. Richie melted into it, wishing he had a free hand, and pressed himself a little bit closer to Bill’s body.

Bill pulled back first, again, and licked his bottom lip. He cleared his throat, face burning red, and turned around. “Fuh-fuh-finish that huh-hot-hot dog, Tozier. I puh-puh-paid guh-good money for tuh-that.”

Richie stared at the side of Bill’s head in a daze as he took the hot dog towards his still tingling mouth.

★ ★ ★

Richie Tozier is sixteen years old, and Bill Denbrough had him pressed back into the couch cushions. Richie let out a harsh exhale of breath, turning his head to side while Bill’s mouth lacked onto Richie’s neck. Their hips might have rocking together, Richie wasn’t even sure, because it felt like Bill was everywhere.

It had been months of this, hang outs during into Richie and Bill alone at the end of the night, Bill leaning into Richie’s space, laying him down and kissing for hours until Richie thought he’d need Eddie’s inhaler to get a single breath. Knees feeling weak for hours after Bill went home. Heart racing in his chest like an injured bird that was trying to fly but couldn’t get off the ground

It was never anything more than this. Hot lips on lips, or neck, and hands touching under shirts. Bill always locked right up if Richie tried to move any further than that, not able to get any words out beyond his stutter in those moments. Richie knew what they were, even if he wasn’t entirely sure what this was. He knew that when Bill left his house, he’d make a nightly phone call to his girlfriend and tell her that he loved her.

Richie groaned, a noise not of any sort of pleasure, but of the sudden sick feeling settled in his stomach. Bill pulled off his neck, where an obvious mark was now sitting high enough that Richie would have to wear a fucking turtleneck to cover ti up. “Wh-what’s wrong?” Bill asked, wiping the spit off his mouth with the back of his hand.

Richie pushed at Bill’s head, forcing himself into a seated position and tugging at the curls on his head. He couldn’t look at Bill in this moment, suddenly felt that maybe he’d never be able to look at him again. “What are you doing after this?”

Bill’s face seemed to pale as he moved away from Richie’s body, putting that space between them. It felt so much more than it really was, Richie couldn’t remember the last time he’d been sitting on the same couch as Bill without their bodies touching. Bill sighed, scratching at the back of his neck. “You know wuh-wuh-where I’m guh-going.”

Yeah, Richie knew. It would be nice if Bill would say it, though. Just once. Richie grabbed his hoodie that he’d stripped off when he’d got overheated while kissing, and tugged it back over his head. “You should probably go, then. Don’t want to be late for her.”

Bill blinked at him, then frowned. “I duh-don’t need to go for at luh-least an hour.”

Richie let out a little half sigh himself and stood up, starting to gather up the empty drink containers and dishes off the little coffee table. “You don’t want to be late. Go there smelling like me.”

“Wuh-we use the suh-suh-same sa-shampoo. She-she wuh-won’t nuh-notice.” Bill struggled to get the words out, and Richie was sure if he looked at Bill his face would be a deep red. But Richie simply stiffened, then threw the garbage a little harsher than necessary into the bin. “Are you okay?”

Richie shook his head. “You should just go, Bill. I can’t keep doing this. Find somebody else to cheat on your girlfriend with.”

Bill made an awkward noise in the back of his throat. An uncomfortable noise. Letting Richie know that his little reminder wasn’t welcome. “Yuh-you knew wuh-what this was. You nuh-never tuh-told me that-”

“I’m telling you now!” Richie cut him off with a sharp yell, dropping the trash bin to the ground and turning around to look at Bill. His friend- his whatever they were- was still sitting on the couch, hands hanging between his legs. His hair was a mussed mess and his eyes were sad, and he looked beautiful. “I’m telling you now. I can’t fucking do this anymore.”

Bill swallowed harshly, his shoulders tensing. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Richie nodded, once and moved outside to bring the garbage into the bigger can in the garage. When he came back into basement, Bill and all his things were gone.

★ ★ ★

Richie Tozier is seventeen years old, and he’d just gotten a promotion. It was just a position of longer hours at the theater, but he lived for it. The idea that he was good at something, could do something. Ever since Bill had kissed him the year before, and continued on dating his girlfriend, Richie had let himself slip away from the Losers. He loved his friends, he loved Bill, but he wasn’t going to let himself be the Other Person. Not even for Bill Denbrough.

“You look like shit, Tozier.” Stanley Uris’ voice carried over to him, and Richie sighed. He supposed the most awkward times for him was whenever his friends- old friends? No, just friends. Still his friends- came in to see a movie.

Richie forced a smile at his best friend, running his fingers through his messy hair. He winced at the dryness that he found, wondering for a short second how long it had been since he’d showered. “Ah, you know me, Stan the Man. Always looking like a mess.”

Stan clucked his tongue, looking skeptically at Richie for a long moment before shaking his head. “Everybody else is going to be here soon. I came ahead of them to warn you, in case you wanted to go hide in the back.”

It was a passive aggressive comment, not a genuine offer of escape and they both knew it. Stan and Eddie, in particular, had been supportive of Richie’s original departure from the group, believing that Richie needed some space and would soon be back. The longer that Richie was separate, the less they seemed to tolerate his absence. “I work here,” Richie replied to Stan a little stiffly. enjoying how Stan’s eyebrows raised up. “I’m not going to run and hide. If Bill doesn’t want to see me, he can find something else to do on Saturday nights besides see movies.”

“Bill doesn’t not want to see you, Rich.” Stan said quietly, his face opening up and looking a little softer.

“No, that’s the problem, I guess.” Richie said, knowing his voice was too sharp and that he had walls up around himself that Stan could see through without squinting. “The problem is that he does, and I can’t keep getting dicked around like that. It’ll kill me.”

A sad look settled itself on Stan’s face but he was suddenly interrupted by a small shout of “Trashmouth!” before Richie found himself with an arm full of Eddie Kaspbrak. Richie let out a surprised little laugh before a mess of red hair that could only be Beverly Marsh was attaching herself to him as well.

Richie greeted all of his friends, finding himself feel little in a way that he hadn’t in a while. Too long. His eyes fell onto Bill and he wondered if everybody could see the walls around him as they went up. “Huh-hey, Rich.” Bill said, his cheeks turning red.

Richie blinked at him, thinking for a moment about how much his friends knew about what happened. Stan and Bev, they knew everything, as Richie had told them. Called them after Bill had left that night, and they’d both sneaked over to sit with him while cried through most of the night. Stan Uris and Beverly Marsh, the only two people Richie would let see him at his absolute lowest. Had Bill told the others? Or were they completely in the dark to why everything had changed?

Something in his gut told him that Bill would never have told anybody about them, and his resolve to stay far the fuck away from Bill Denbrough hardened inside him. He put on a formal face, one that if the stunned expression Eddie gave him meant anything, was extremely convincing. “Our self service devices are out of order tonight, so you’ll have to buy your tickets up at the concession stand. Enjoy the movies, guys.”

Richie nodded with as much friendliness as he could muster, and turned to go find something to do when a hand grabbed his wrist. “Wuh-wuh-wait.” Bill said, squeezing Richie’s wrist. “Can I tuh-talk to you?”

Richie swallowed a little roughly, and gave a short nod to hesitating Beverly. As she finally walked slowly away, Richie looked at Bill and turned his customer service persona up to eleven. “How can I help you?”

Bill huffed out a breath, his eyes squeezing shut. “Richie, can you nuh-not be luh-like this? El-luh-lizabeth and I bruh-broke up.”

And well.. Richie had heard that. In a school as small as Derry High, it would have been impossible for him to have not to. It was all anybody talked about for three days, until David Miller sent Shauna Finchel’s nudes around and Billy and Elizabeth’s sudden break up was pushed aside. Part of Richie had wondered if Bill was going to come talk to him, but he refused to play with the idea that he was that important.

But now Bill stood in front of him, shuffling and looking oh-so guilty. Richie shook his head. “I’m not sure what you expect me to do with that information, Billy Boy. Are you offering her up to me, I help ease her through this tough time if you know what I mean.” Richie thrust his hips sexually and Bill just stared at him blankly.

“Richie, can you juh-juh-just...” Bill swore under his breath. “You can cuh-come back to the gruh-group, is what I muh-meant.”

Richie cracked his knuckles and tongued at his teeth. “Do you? All miss me.”

Bill clenched his jaw and furrowed his brow. “Yes.”

Richie bit his bottom lip and nodded.

★ ★ ★

Richie Tozier is eighteen years old, and he was standing on the old Derry bridge after graduating high school. He had Eddie Kaspbrak tucked under one arm, and was sharing a hilarious conversation about nothing with Ben Hanscom. There were after parties going on all over town, but the Losers were in no rush to get to to any of them. Everybody they really wanted to see was standing right here.

Richie glanced over his shoulder at where Bill was laughing loudly with Mike, palming a beer that Richie suspected that he wasn’t really drinking, and sighed a little louder than he’d intended. He felt Eddie shift underneath him and he looked down at Eddie’s little face, the other boy- or man? Were they men now? Richie didn’t feel like a man- looked oddly tiny with Richie’s bomber jacket on.

“Go talk to him,” Eddie said simply, offering Richie a smile. “You two are being idiots. Fix whatever’s broken here. I’m begging you, this weird pretending you don’t care about each other shit is getting old.”

Richie looked at Ben, half hoping his friend would be on his side, but Ben had already started nodding before Richie finished his turn. Sighing, Richie dropped his arm away from Eddie and shuffled over to Bill with his hands in his suit pants.

When Mike and Bill noticed Richie approaching, Mike patted Bill on the shoulder and he smiled at Richie as he moved to talk to Beverly and Stan. Richie gave Bill a small smile, opened his mouth and-

“Are yuh-you and Eddie duh-dating?”

Richie blinked and gaped at Bill, completely taken back by the question. He turned back to Eddie, who was sitting up on the railing of the bridge and cackling, and Richie spluttered out a laugh. “What? Eddie? No, fuck no. Eddie’s my little buddy.”

Bill flushed. “He’s wuh-wearing your juh-jacket.”

“He was cold!” Richie laughed, brushing his overgrown curls away from his face. “He weighs like fifty pounds, dude, and he was wearing a vest suit! Are Eddie and I dating... Jesus Christ, Denbrough. And I thought I had marbles for brains.”

“Yuh-you do have muh-marbles for brains,” Bill muttered, but while the attempt was there that attitude was not. Bill was still staring down at his feet with red cheeks. “I just thu-thought it would make suh-sense if you and Euh-Eddie were...”

Richie let out a harsh cackle, hunching over and wrapping his arms around his stomach. “Oh my God, stop. Stop. I’m going to fucking piss myself. Oh my God.”

“Stop laughing at me, dick weed!” Bill pushed at Richie, knocking him against the railing. It wasn’t a violent movement, both boys going up against it giggling.

Richie suddenly realized how close they were, faces almost touching. Richie gave him a grin. “Why so concerned about me and Eds? Ya jealous, Big Bill?” And it was a joke. Oh, was it a joke. Richie’s entire life was a joke, really.

“Muh-maybe.” Bill admitted anyway and Richie blinked at him. The two of them stared at one other, breath caught in their throats, until Bill grinned at him. “I duh-don’t want Euh-Eddie to get uh-over his cruh-crush on you for the luh-likes of you. It’ll be a bluh-blow to my ego.”

Richie laughed so hard he snorted.

★ ★ ★

Richie Tozier is eighteen years old, and he’s running through an airport waiting room. He, himself, will be leaving Derry forever in just three days. Well, not forever in truth. His parents still lived here, and he knew that for the next fours years he’d be coming home every summer and every holiday but... in three days, Derry would no longer be Richie’s home.

Bill Denbrough was leaving Derry that day. Within an hour or so, really. And not just Derry, no. Bill was going big, getting onto that plane and leaving Maine, leaving America. Richie had put off saying goodbye, not even going to Bill’s goodbye party

“Aye, matey, I would never be a visiting ‘ou. We’ll across the pond together.”

“BILLY!” Richie screamed as he caught sight of his friend moving up in the line of people waiting to board the flight to England. Bill turned and it was almost like it was happening in slow motion. His eyes went wide and he stepped out of the line, walking towards Richie as though in a daze as Richie ran at him.

“Rich...”

Richie nearly collided with him, but managed to skid to a stop just in front of him. He quickly stumbled forward, cupping the back of Bill’s neck and knocking their foreheads together. At some point during the last two years of alienation between them, Richie Tozier had grown taller than Big Bill Denbrough.

He could hear Bill’s take in a big breath and Richie felt like his whole body was shaking. “I’m gunna miss ya.”

“Fuck,” Bill whispered under his breath, hands gripping Richie’s hips. “I love you, Richie. I luh-luh-love you.”

“Now boarding flight 1-27 to London! Now boarding flight 1-27!”

Richie let Bill go, offered him a watery smile, and walked away without another word exchanged.

★ ★ ★

Richie Tozier was twenty years old, and for the first time he wasn’t going back to Derry for the summer break. He’d considered it, even though he had his own studio apartment out in Cali, but he loved his job that he wasn’t sure would hold a spot for him if he took off for three months. When Stan had told him he was only going back to two weeks in the end of July, Richie had decided to stay out in California.

As April came to an end, and Richie didn’t pack up his things and make the 2 day drive, was the first time Richie realized that Derry didn’t feel like home anymore. Outside of Stan and occasionally Mike, Richie barely even heard from the other Losers anymore. Eddie called him every couple months to catch up, always very long phone calls that they both complained about the prize but continued to do. Bev made trips out to California once a year, but otherwise they were strictly tag each other in memes friends these days. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d spoken to Ben Hanscom. Probably Thanksgiving the year before. And Bill...

Richie hadn’t heard from Bill since he’d left him in the Bangor Airport, and I love you too unsaid between them.

“Rich...?” Richie turned around as Jane, his girlfriend of nearly seven months, padded into the living room wearing nothing but his oversized AFRICA by TOTO t-shirt. “Are you coming back to bed?”

Richie smiled and nodded, following her into his future.

★ ★ ★

Richie Tozier was twenty-three years old, and he was opening his apartment door at the 3 in the morning to frantic knocking. Bill Denbrough stood on the other side of it, soaking wet and panting as though he’d run the entire way from England. Richie blinked at him for several moments before stumbling backwards and letting him into the apartment.

“Your fiancee left you.” Bill heaved out, staring at Richie with those big wide eyes. Five years since Richie had seen him, and somehow Bill Denbrough managed to make Richie’s heart stop in his chest.

“Uh yeah,” Richie said, head spinning from these sudden events that were taken place while his brain was still half asleep. “Yeah, like... Like, a year ago, dude...”

Bill seemed to flush, but the apartment was dark and Richie wasn’t wearing his fucking glasses so it wasn’t like he could really tell. “I just heard.” Bill said simply, raising a hand like he meant to touch Richie but stopped at the last moment,

“Takes a long time for information to travel across that big ol’ ocean, huh.” Richie said, half hoping he didn’t sound as bitter as he felt. But part of him hoped Bill could exactly what Richie was feeling.

“Go out with me.” Bill blurted out, suddenly sounding not unlike a young Richie Tozier, who’d yet to even try to filter his thoughts. Richie blinked at him and said nothing. “I know I... fucked everything... up between us...” Bill was speaking so slowly, Richie knew it was a tactic to help his stutter, but he sort of wished he’d just stutter through the words and get to the goddamn point already. “But I have... always loved you... and I would like to... try being together... please.”

“Do I get a say in this?” Richie asked snarkly and Bill frowned.

“Yes. The ball... is in your court... now... Tozier.” Bill said with a nod, moving back towards the door and walking out it. Richie watched him turn into a small blub and panic struck into his chest as realized fuck Bill was going to walk away.

Richie rushed out of the apartment, half blind and half dressed, leaving the door wide open. “Billy, wait!”

Bill turned around, beaming.

#bichie #bichie fic #bill denbrough #richie tozier #it fanfiction #it fic exchange #my writing

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richies-sloppy-bitch · 4 years

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Currently Untitled Fix-It Fic, Part 1 (Once I have a title I will change it)

Pairings: In this part: The start of Richie x Lucy Flannery (my OC, but feel free to use this as a reader self insert!) and Stan x Lucy

Warnings: Homophobic slur, swearing, talk of missing/dead children

Words: 1567

Summary: Lucy is just trying to enjoy her last day of school, but ends up stumbling upon Richie, Stan, Eddie, and Bill while they’re down at the Barrens, teaching them that there’s more to her than the rumors at school say about her.

I hope you enjoy, I have a post about my OC here: https://richies-sloppy-bitch.tumblr.com/post/189220214136/it-oc-character-info

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Finally, Lucy thought as she headed down to the Barrens with a backpack as weightless as her shoulders in that moment. Freedom. Less bullshit, no homework, and most importantly, less Henry fucking Bowers. She often came to the Barrens to have a quiet smoke, or to have a quick beer that she'd stolen from the fridge at home. She liked that spot because it was quiet and nobody ever came down there. Until today.

She lit her cigarette and took a long drag, peacefully enjoying the quiet until she heard some splashing and voices. Voices of boys, it sounded like. Who the fuck would come down here to play in the damn water? The sewer is over there… She was just going to let whoever it was do their thing, but yet, she was curious as to who would have the intent to play down there. She picked up her skateboard and slowly approached the voices. She could hear them a lot clearer. Two boys in polo shirts and shorts standing outside the sewer tunnel and two boys actually STANDING in it, one replying with stuttered words and the other in a loud Hawaiian shirt and glasses responding in bad attempts at impressions.

"That's poison ivy… And that's poison ivy" the taller of the polo wearing boys was saying with a slight worry to his voice.

"Stanley, not every fucking plant is poison ivy!" Retorted the boy in the glasses.

"Actually…" Lucy hopped over the rocks that dotted across the river to the tunnel, "none of these are poison ivy. But you see that bush about 15 feet that way?" She gestured, cigarette in hand, to a bush that looked different than the ones by the boys. They all turned their heads to look. "THAT fucker is poison ivy. I know from experience." She shuddered and took another drag. The boys just stared at her, silent in surprise. She had seen these kids at school before but didn't even know their names. They, however, definitely knew who Lucy Flannery was. The girl who picked fights, who even fought boys at school. The girl who, it was rumored, also liked girls. The student consensus was that she was scary, and especially for boys who went by the term "losers", to be avoided.

"H...Hi… Lu..lucy." the stuttering boy bravely spoke to her, his stutter even worse than what she'd overheard. "Wuh...wha..what are you do..doing here?" He sounded both curious and defensive, as if he were trying to protect himself and his friends from the mean, scary girl. She was only scary by reputation, not her appearance. Her appearance was what drove the bigoted masses of Derry to assume she was a lesbian. Rail thin, dressed in a pair of denim shorts and a faded Ramones t-shirt, dirty black Converse high tops, not a speck of makeup on her face. Bruises adorned her bare legs, reminders of skateboarding trips turned awry and fights she had gotten into, but out of self defense, not schoolyard terrorism as everyone assumed. Wild wavy chocolate locks that came to just below her chin and seemed to grow every which way also adding to her boyish look, making her slightly resemble Ellen Ripley from the Alien movies the boys had seen.

"I was going to ask you the same thing." She replied and took a step forward, causing all four boys to seem to slightly cower. "Hey… I'm not here to fuck with you. I swear. I don't even know who you guys are. I mean, I've seen you at school and all but I was just curious why the fuck anyone would willingly come down to the sewers to hang out?" Her voice was actually somewhat soft, soothing. She sounded like the nicest person in that moment.

"We're luh… looking for something." The stammering boy replied, cut off by the one in the glasses. "We're looking for his dead- I mean, MISSING brother, Miss Noseypants."

It hit her, at least who the boy with the stutter was. "Wait… You're that kid whose little brother went missing! What was his name, George I think?" She asked.

"Ge...Georgie." the boy replied. Then she remembered, at least his name.

"Bill Denbrough, right? I guess you already know who I am."

"Ye...yeah. And that's Stanley, Eddie, and this..th...this is Richie." He gestured at the boys respectively.

"Well your brother is just missing, they never found him. You think he might be in here?" She asked Bill.

"I h..hope so."

"Well… Do you want me to help look? I have nowhere to be." She smiled kindly, dropping the cigarette butt onto the ground and stomping it out.

"Re..really? You'd do that?" Bill was surprised, and the looks of amazement on the other boys' faces reflected the same. They were suddenly a lot less tense in their body language.

"If it helps bring a kid home then fuck yeah!" She untied her shoes, stuffed her socks in them and began to head in, stepping into the fetid water next to Richie.

"That's greywater, I'm not fucking going in there!" chirped Eddie as she made her way in.

"What the hell's greywater?" Richie replied with a roll of his eyes.

"It's literal piss and shit, just telling you! You're all walking around in millions of gallons of Derry pee!"

Grinning, Richie picked up a stick and scooped up what looked like a shred of fabric, pretended to sniff it and in a failed attempt at a Mexican accent, said "IT DOESN'T SMELL LIKE CACA TO ME SEÑOR!" Lucy couldn't help but giggle, this kid was hilarious already and she'd only known him for five minutes. Stanley rolled his eyes and Bill just looked at Richie sternly, who noticed the girl standing there was laughing. "At least someone has good taste in entertainment, huh, toots?" He winked.

She felt a rush of warmth to her cheeks and she fell silent.

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" Richie asked.

"No… I'm just… Not used to boys calling me cute things like 'toots'. They mostly just call me a dyke." She said softly, her big brown eyes looking down for a moment. "I'm NOT one, just so you know." She glanced at each of the boys as she said that, trying to get her point across.

Richie grinned. She thought it was cute? Well she better, because honestly SHE'S cute. Especially when she's all flustered. He thought, before continuing. "Well I can call you all kinds of cute shit, like sweetcheeks, sugartits-" he was cut off by Stan, who clearly looked annoyed.

"Beep beep, Richie. You're making her uncomfortable." He scolded. Unbeknownst to her and Richie, Stan also thought Lucy was actually quite striking, and his interruption was jealousy disguised as his usual irritation with Richie's antics.

"Yeah, and can you stop dicking around? I can smell that from here." Eddie added, which began a back and forth banter with Richie that had Lucy fighting for her life to hold back laughter, ultimately failing.

"Are you sure it's not just your breath wafting back into your face?"

"Listen, have you ever heard of a STAPH INFECTION?!"

"OH, I'LL SHOW YOU A STAFF INFECTION" the argument was cut off by Bill, who had found something. "G..Guys…" he pointed at what looked like a white shoe, picking it out of the water.

"Is it.. " Stan asked, nervously.

"Georgie wore...ga..galoshes." Bill replied.

"Then whose is it?" Eddie asked. Richie looked at the inside of the white canvas sneaker that read "B. RIPSOM".

"It's Betty Ripsom's." He said with an unusual softness. Betty was another girl who, like Georgie, had gone missing and was never found.

"I don't like this!" Eddie said anxiously.

"How do you think Betty feels? Running around these tunnels with only one frickin' shoe?" Richie lifted his foot out of the water with a smile. Even Lucy didn't laugh, this was creeping all of them out.

"What if she's still down here?" Stan asked. Bill and Richie began to venture further in, with Lucy following.

"Aren't you guys coming?" Richie asked.

"If my mom found out we were playing down here, she'd have an ANEURYSM okay-" Eddie began, cut off by Bill, who somberly spoke.

"If I was Betty Ripsom… I'd want us to find her. Ge..Georgie too."

"Well what if I don't WANT to find her? No offense, but I don't want to end up like Ge… I mean… I don't want to go missing either." Eddie replied.

"He's got a point." Stan noted.

"Y..you too?" Bill looked at his friend.

"It's SUMMER! We're supposed to be having fun! This isn't fun! This is scary and disgusting!" Stan shouted. Lucy couldn't disagree, she did get the creeps from being in there, but was holding her composure.

Before anyone could reply, a loud splash came from behind Eddie and Stanley. An overweight boy with dirty blonde hair stumbled in the water behind them, blood on the lower front of his shirt. The group all rushed out to see.

"Holy shit! What the fuck happened to YOU?!" Richie exclaimed. The boy clearly needed medical attention of some kind, the bleeding was pretty bad.

Lucy had a feeling this summer was going to be different. What SORT of different, good or bad, remained to be seen.

**To be continued.**

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pyredrunk · 7 years

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i made out w a girl and it was good !!!!

#*resurrects this blog 2 talk about my feelings*#what a good day to be a wuh luh wuh #wyatt.txt

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clean-bands-dirty-stories · 5 years

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Wait... WHAT? (Richie)(Part 3)

This is honestly going on longer than I thought it would, oops. But I can’t sleep and I’m in a hard Richie mood so.. here I am. Enjoy?

Anon: Pidge

Word Count: 1748

The next day I was a wreck. I didn’t talk once and I couldn’t stay focused, little flashes of lights or distant conversations or birds chirping or the wind blowing through the trees or as car passing or literally anything and everything pulling me away from the Losers and their interactions. Not even Richie could get a reaction out of me.

“Hey Hot Stuff,” he greeted, slinging an arm around my shoulders as per norm. But I didn’t notice. Or, I did, but there was a butterfly flittering in the grass that caught my eyes and I watched it, forgetting about Richie or responding to him. I felt his arms fall off my shoulders and I looked over, remembering again. But the mood had shifted, I could see it in his expression, so I didn’t offer a greeting now. His eyes found mine and searched them, his head tilted. “You good?” He looked more curious than concerned, as if he was about to pull out another joke any second. I just nodded, and he seemed disappointed. He shrugged, moving over to Stan. “Stan the Man,” I heard Richie complain. “Your girlfriend’s freaking me out. They don’t mean it literally when they say ‘I’ll fuck your brains out’, but I guess you-“

Stan pulled away from Richie, mumbling a “Beep beep Richie,” before moving to me. After Beverly had called us, we were all meeting up to go to her place, me picking up the Losers one by one since I was the only one who knew where she lived. For some reason Ben was taking forever, so Mike and Eddie had gone inside to get him. Meanwhile, the rest of us waited for him outside. “Hey,” Stan offered quietly. “You okay?” I met his eyes, nodding. I even offered a smile. But my attention moved away again when a ray of sun caught on Silver, flickering into my eyes as Bill anxiously moved back and forth on his bike with his feet on the ground. “Hey.” I looked over again and this time Stan looked really worried. “Are you sure?” I widened my smile, nodding again, this time forcing some energy and false sincerity into it.

Ben came out of his house, Eddie and Mike behind him. “Sorry,” the boy mumbled.

“You’re fi-fine,” Bill reassured as everyone got on their bikes.

Stan still hadn’t looked away from me, but my attention was already on the Losers and my mind had completely forgot his worry. “Y/n,” he huffed as we began going, trying to get an answer out of me. “I know you’re not-“ he cut off, grunting as we all began riding and he had to focus on the road ahead and keeping up with everybody.

Because I wasn’t monitoring myself and trying to let everyone keep up, I ended up pulling ahead. On a daily, I biked all the time and walked just as much, usually to clear my head and even out my heavy, bad feelings. I rode to Bev’s without thinking, on autopilot, and it wasn’t until all of the Losers were yelling at me that I noticed they were falling behind. I slowed significantly until they all caught u and then evened out with them.

“Didn’t know you were so fast,” Mike teased with little breath.

“Fast or not, her ass looks fantastic when she rides.”

“RICHIE!” The boys complained. But I didn’t respond. I just kept leading them to Bev’s. By now, Mike and Ben were looking at me funny, noticing Stan’s eyes - large with concern - flickering between me and the road ahead of him. They were starting to notice something was wrong.

When we pulled up to the house, everyone but Eddie and Bill were about to approach me and I seized up. But then Beverly came rushing out. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she gushed, near hysterics. She seemed as shaken up as I was. Which was an obvious worry. I forgot myself and my attention was pulled to her as I instantly discarded my bike and moved to her. She met my eyes, her hands reaching out to grab mine, the bottoms of our palms touching as her fingers wrapped around my wrists. I knew the touch was comforting so I didn’t pull away. It felt nice. Normal. Like when it was just me and her. So lovely compared to last night. Her anger and coldness.

Geez I needed to focus!

“I need to show you something,” she said very seriously.”

“What is it?” Someone asked.

Richie piped up. “More than we saw at the Quarry?” I looked away from Bev, my eyes finding the dark haired both with something like humor mixing in my chest.

My face must have still been bank though because he looked almost guilty meeting my eyes when Eddie yelled, “Shut up, Richie, just shut up!”

Attention turned back to Bev. “My dad will kill me if he finds out,” she explained, her head shaking, and I squeezed her wrists - where my fingers had handed when she’d grabbed mine - reassuringly. “I had boys in the apartment,” she finished.

Immediately Bill piped up, “Wuh-we’ll leave a luh-look out. Uh, R-Richie, st-stay-stay here.”

Everyone began dropping their bikes as I had, Bev dropping my arms in favor of turning towards her house to go in the back way, her fingers reaching back to interlace with mine instead. “Whoa whoa whoa!” Richie protested loudly. “What if her dad comes back?”

“Do what you always do!” Stan responded. “Start talking.”

As everyone filtered in through the window, Bev dropped my hand and I stepped back, letting everyone in before me. As Richie called out weakly, “It’s a gift,” our eyes met and I actually managed to smile. Genuinely. He relaxed upon seeing the expression on my face and it was the last surge of positive emotion I felt before entering the house after the boys. Bev took us to her bathroom and the goodness melted away instantly. There was banter but I ignored it. I registered Eddie gagging and mumbling about health hazards but once I took in the bathroom drenched in blood, nothing but disgust an terror could register in my mine.

“You see it?” Bev asked quietly.

“Yes,” Stan answered weakly. “What happened in here.”

Bev shifted. “My dad couldn’t see it. I thought I might be crazy...”

I didn’t even think to reach out for her. I was really of my game. But after being emotionally shredded in every way and then taken to a room like this, I would say I’m allowed to be a little off my game. “If you’re crazy, we’re all crazy,” Ben offered, covering for my silence.

After a beat, Bill offered, “We c-c-can’t leave it like this.” We all looked at him, dead silent. He took a step in and we exchanged looks before following him. He directed us for the most part, keeping everyone’s mind on task as we tried to recoil from what we were supposed to be doing. At one point I reacher out my clean hand, patting Eddie on the back. He looked at me and his face actually softened, offering me a thankful smile in return of the apologetic but encouraging smile I’d offered. That was the moment that I felt connected to Eddie.

These boys were hard not to care for and bond with. Mike and Ben were so caring. Richie, Stan, Eddie, and Bill had such interesting minds and thoughts, worrying about completely different things but somehow working in a harmony that boggled me. Stan’s curiosity. Bill’s creativity and leadership and bravery. Richie’s constant unwavering ability to always have something to say. Eddie’s endless ‘fun’ facts and health tips. For the first time, I really WANTED to be friends with all of them and I wondered if it was too late for that.

I took the trash out, coming back to find Ben staring towards the bathroom. I looked over and my heart fell just as I was about to start getting into the groove again. I looked at Bill and Bev laughing and talking and I looked away, my eyes watering as images from last night filtered into my head.

Ben reached out, placing a hand on my shoulder. “You too?” He whispered. I met his eyes, offering a half assed smile and a nod. He tilted his head. “Bev?” Oh the poor boy, thinking that he had both Bill AND me as competition. I let out one short huff of amusement, shaking my head. I was exhausted again and didn’t want to waste my energy on talking. Ben didn’t need me too though. “Bill?” He asked as softly as he had started. My smile fell and I nodded. His hand fell from my shoulder and we both turned away, moving back outside now that the job was finished. “It sucks,” he whispered. I nodded.

“What’s with you two?” Richie asked as we came out of the window and went down the stairs to join every one else (besides Bill and Bev). My eyes caught Stan’s and he knew immediately. He looked to Ben with confusion and then back to me and I managed to mouth, ‘Bev’. He nodded.

Ben saw the exchange and I looked over as I felt his eyes on me. Okay. Maybe I had made friends already and I hadn’t even realized it. Was Stan my friend? Really? Ben seemed to be. “Nothing your small brain could comprehend Richie,” Stan quips lightly, no malice behind his words. Richie goes off, triggering a fight to erupt between him and Eddie, but I find myself quiet enjoying it.

When my crush and my best friend finally join us, we get on our bikes and start riding.

I’m smiling and far more at ease, Ben and Stan to either side of me as we ride, Richie riding around the whole group as he goes off complaining and chucking out innuendoes, true to his Trashmouth name. Mike is between us and Bill and Bev who ride in the front. There’s a sense of peace with an underlying something that pokes and prods at that good feeling, threatening it. I push it away, trying to hold onto the feeling of unity and friendship that is so new to me with such a large of people. New but good.

Despite my determination, though... the horrors and troubles in my life are just about to begin.

#Richie tozier #bill denbrough #It #2017 #movie #finn wolfhard #jaeden lieberher #x reader #imagines #imagine #Man I’m feeling like shit after that last one oof #Here’s to good feelings

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greensconnor · 5 years

Text

got tagged by @dumbbrowngirl to do day 1 of the april challenge by @choicesfannatalie n i’m doing it on a separate post because the original was. Hm. Long.

day one: top 3 li’s you’re loyal to

honestly most of them i only really shopped around so to speak in atv and i GUESS acor but i haven’t even like made a commitment to acor cause i just. don’t care about it. anyway in no particular order:

1. griffin langley

so. y’all ever seen a man more perfect? if you answered yes, you’re wrong. griffin is peak creation. like no man will ever compare. i’m continuously blown away by just how wonderful he is! he’s just sweet and funny and genuinely kind! plus the whole fighting between what ur parents want vs what you want like man i’ve been there. i got u griffin. we’re homies in that regard. and also i froth earth based characters so yeehaw like it’s not even a competition yes i’m a class traitor but all up griffin is 100% the BEST li in the elementalists Full. Stop.

2. teja desai

everyone was hyping victoria but again as soon as i saw her it was literally no competition. she exists in a shitty book and i’ll forever be big mad because she deserves more but like. real thinking about how much i want to date tejadesai_irl every day every hour god i just love her. like career woman. she’s a director. she’s gorgeous. the fuckin. pink parka OUTFIT. the CONVENIENCE. god. teja if you’re reading this i have feelings for yo-

3. sonia alves

this is like a bit of a lie because ultimately i never chose between eris and sonia but like don’t call me out!!!! don’t call me out!!!! they both had such good arcs but ultimately sonia won out because like. the enemies to lovers plotline..... the wuh luh wuh potential.... THE CHASE THROUGH THE PARTY..... TRYING TO FIND MC.... every sonia scene was so good and just like. her whole characters, wanting to do the right thing and having a strict moral code and like the allusions to her tough past and how she just wants to be taken seriously..... hjrgbrgrhg whoever wrote sonia alves as a character you have ALL my uwus.

i guess i’ll tag @itlivesinthegays @i-beg-your-parsons @aurora-emery @letmeloveasterplease aaaand anyone else who wants to do it i suppose! (yes this means u if u see this and u feel like doing it ur free to say i tagged u)

#sol.txt #choices april challenge

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s-oulpunk · 4 years

Note

kaspbrough: eddie’s late to class and his long time crush bill suddenly decides it’s a good day to spill his milkshake all over that cute angry boy in his calc class

Anon I LOVED writing this, it ended up being so soft🥺

-----

Eddie Kaspbrak is a good student. He turns all his homework in on time, he gets straight A’s, and, most importantly, he’s not late. Ever. Sure, he misses a lot of school, but that’s hardly his fault. Mama says he’s sick, and if he has to do his homework from the hospital bed, then that’s exactly what he’ll do.

But, back to the point. Eddie’s never late. He takes extra measure to ensure it. Three alarms, clothes picked out the night before, bike ready to go in the garage.

Except for today.

Today he sleeps through his alarms.

Today he loses his socks halfway through getting dressed.

Today his bike has a flat tire.

So now he’s running to school, already fifteen minutes late, and barely halfway there. He’s not supposed to be running, he knows that. He knows if his mother ever found out, he’d be stuck in the hospital all weekend.

But he also knows he’s not supposed to be late. Besides, it feels kind of good to run. It’s not something he usually gets to experience. And he’s going so fast. He doesn’t think he’s ever gone this fast without his bike. Scratch that, he’s never gone this fast in his life.

Mama doesn’t let him ride at a pace faster than a walk, and she’s always the slowest car on the road whenever they take a trip to the local hospital or grocery store.

But when he runs, he can feel the wind scratch against his face and the pavement disappear beneath his feet. It’s exhilarating.

At least, it’s exhilarating until he turns the corner into the school parking lot and runs smack dab into another student. And not just any student.

“Fff-Fuck, are you alright?”

Baseball star Bill Denbrough.

Bill Denbrough, who won the game three weeks in a row.

Bill Denbrough, who Eddie’s been in love with since the sixth grade.

Bill Denbrough, who’s staring down at him because Eddie’s currently laying flat on his back, sharp gravel digging into his back, as he wonders why his torso is suddenly freezing.

“Holy shit, I’m so ss-suh-sorry.”

Turns out, he’s freezing because Bill’s double chocolate chip milkshake is currently all over him. Eddie frowns at the sticky mess as he sits up, his frown quickly turning into a grimace when the milkshake starts to drip down his stomach.

“I’m so sorry,” Bill continues to ramble. “I dd-duh-didn’t see you coming. Are you oh-okay? I’m sorry about yuh-your shirt. Will it wash out? Oh, fuck.”

“It’s fine,” Eddie grumbles, ignoring the hand Bill offers as he stumbles to his feet. “Jesus, who drinks a milkshake at eight in the morning?”

Bill flushes red. “Is there a time limit to when I can enjoy a mm-muh-milkshake?”

“Yes!” Eddie snaps. “You shouldn’t drink it at all, do you have any idea how unhealthy it is for you?”

Bill shrugs. “It’s milk.”

“It’s...It is not just milk!” Eddie yelps, gaping openly.

“Look,” Bill says, and Eddie supposes maybe he should feel a little bad for snapping at the guy, “I’m really sorry about your shirt. If I can - Oh! You can have my jj-juh-jacket if you want? It’s not the same, but it’ll help cover some of the stains!”

“What - No, that’s okay,” Eddie says, but Bill’s shoving the jacket into his hands before he can even finish the sentence. “I can just wear my gym shirt.”

Bill pulls a face. “That’s gross. It’s all ss-swuh-sweaty and stuff.”

“Well I washed it! Do you not wash your gym clothes!”

“I’ll get it from you in calculus!” Bill says. And Eddie can’t argue, because he’s already disappeared halfway across the parking lot.

Wearing Bill’s jacket is - and Eddie would never admit this - very exciting.

Bill’s relatively short, but the jacket’s still a little big on Eddie. It’s a dark maroon color, per school colors, and has Bill’s last name in big, bold letters across the back. Eddie can feel the stares from his peers throughout the day, can hear the whispers behind his back. It puts him on edge, but Bill’s jacket - despite being the source of the attention - acts as a sort of force field. As if nothing can hurt him while he has it on.

Eddie sits at the front in every single class. Bill usually sits somewhere in the middle, somewhere he can pay attention without drawing too much attention to himself. But today, Bill plops himself down right next to Eddie and grins at him expectantly.

“Thank you for the jacket,” Eddie says softly.

“You’re welcome,” Bill says. “Sorry I sp-spilled my milkshake on you.”

Eddie ducks his head, suddenly all-too-fascinated by the empty pages of his notebook. “Yeah, well, sorry I was a dick to you.”

Bill smiles softly. “That’s okay,” he says, which only makes Eddie feel worse. Why is he so nice? “I would buh-be mad too.”

Cautiously, Eddie glances back up. When he’s sure it’s safe, when all he can see is Bill’s blinding grin, he turns to face him completely.

“I can buy you another milkshake,” he offers.

If possible, Bill grins wider, “Like a dd-duh-date?”

Eddie balks. “No! No, not - not like that. Just - Just as an apology. Because I - I spilled your milkshake. Remember?”

“Oh. I - Uh - Yeah. Th-That’s okay, dude. It’s, ll-luh-like, three bucks. I can - Just - Don’t worry about it.”

Bill doesn’t talk to him for the rest of class.

That Friday, Bill has a baseball game. Eddie knows because he has one every week. Every week, Eddie tries to convince his mom to let him go. Every week, the answer is emphatically no.

But this week is going to be different. Eddie has to be there. Because Bill had asked him exactly what Eddie had been dreaming he would ask for years, and what did Eddie do? He fucked it up. And now he has to find a way to un-fuck it up.

He waits, practically vibrating with nerves, until his mom falls asleep. By the time she does, Eddie doesn’t even know if the game is still going. But he has to try, he’ll be damned if he misses his chance. So he pulls on his shoes, hops out his bedroom window, and runs.

Luckily, when he gets there, the game is not over. At least, Eddie doesn’t think it is. He doesn’t know anything about baseball - his mother was never big on sports - but there are still players on the field. In fact, Bill’s currently up to bat.

Eddie lingers awkwardly by the bleachers. Should he cheer? Should he sit down? He has no idea what the protocol for baseball is.

The pitcher throws the ball. Bill swings.

No contact, strike one.

Eddie bounces on the balls of his feet as Bill gets back into position.

C’mon, Bill, he finds himself thinking. I know you can do it.

The pitcher throws the ball again.

Bill misses, strike three.

Even in the dark, Eddie can see Bill starting to get frustrated.

You can do it, Eddie thinks. Don’t give up.

The pitcher throws the ball a third, and final, time.

Bill hits it with a thunk and, before Eddie can even comprehend what’s happening, he’s racing through the bases.

His peers in the bleachers go crazy, shrieking and cheering, but Eddie’s shocked silent. He’s heard about this moment over and over again, but seeing it is entirely different. Simply watching him is intoxicating. Eddie can go fast, but Bill’s faster.

Seeing Bill so in his element, Eddie can see why the school fawns over him.

Bill’s heading towards home base now, and it’s pure speed that’s going to get him there. The ball is being passed through the players, getting scarily close to the catcher, at an alarmingly fast rate.

Eddie nearly shrieks when Bill suddenly drops to the ground, but then he’s sliding through the dirt and landing back at home base merely moments before the ball is thrown to the catcher.

Eddie can only assume they’ve won after that, because everyone starts screaming and Bill’s receiving hugs and claps on the back from his teammates. A kid bolts past Eddie, racing straight into Bill’s arms, and Bill squeezes him tight, as if he's his lifeline.

He looks so happy, Eddie nearly turns around and goes home. But then they make eye contact and Eddie knows there’s no turning back now. Still, his nerves grow a little bit stronger with each step Bill takes towards him.

“Hey,” Eddie says, wincing at how shaky his voice sounds.

“Hey, Eddie,” Bill says. “I didn’t know you ww-wuh-were coming.”

“Eddie,” the kids repeats in a high pitched, nasally voice. Eddie doesn’t have to hear much more to know the kid’s not his biggest fan at the moment.

“Georgie,” Bill hisses. “Stop th-that.” Georgie huffs. “Can wuh-we have a minute?”

Georgie stares pointedly at Eddie. “That milkshake better be for him,” he says, before disappearing back into the thick of the crowd.

“Sorry about him,” Bill says. “He just started jj-juh-junior high. You know how it is.”

Eddie laughs, but it’s more out of nerves than anything else, because he doesn’t know how it is. He didn’t have friends in middle school, and his mother would be damned if he became anything less than her perfect little boy because of something as silly as puberty.

“This - Uh - This is for you, actually,” Eddie says, holding the milkshake out awkwardly.

“Oh.” Bill looks so touched, Eddie kind of wants to laugh. “Thank you, yuh-you didn’t have to do that.”

Eddie shrugs. “It’s just a milkshake.”

“Still,” Bill says as he gently takes it from Eddie’s outstretched hand, “That’s sweet.”

Eddie’s thankful it’s dark, because his face is bright red. “It’s nothing really. You - Um - you did great out there.”

Bill lights up, as if he didn’t have the whole school screaming for him. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Thank you!”

“I also - Um - I also wanted to ask if you, maybe, wanted to go on a date with me?”

Bill beams around the milkshake straw. “Seriously?”

Eddie nods furiously. “And - And I’m sorry, for saying no at first. You scared me.”

Bill barks out a laugh. “I scared yy-yuh-you?”

“Yes, shut up! Now what’s your answer!”

“Yes!” Bill grins. “Yes, I would love to!”

#kaspbrough #bill denbrough #eddie kaspbrak #IT fanfic #IT fanfiction #stanley uris #richie tozier #mike hanlon #ben hanscom #beverly marsh

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stanathieluris · 6 years

Text

Let’s talk about crushes

summary: Bill and Eddie have a heart-to-heart outside of a karaoke bar and Bill can’t honestly belive how oblivious his best friend is

warnings: implied underage drinking (if u are from the us), characters are aged up (around 18/19)

so! i started writing this as some headcanons but it turned out like this so?? enjoy?? the ending is shit bc i suck at those, but i had fun writing this so, enjoy! also pls keep in mind that english is not my first language, so prolly some of the writing will seem wonky

What a night.

The more Eddie thought about it, the less he could believe it. The songs, the alcohol, all his friends singing, laughing.

He was sitting on the sidewalk just outside the bar. He had told the gang he needed some air, and while it was true, it wasn’t entirely his only reason. Looking up at the sky, trying to see the stars, he reminiscenced about what happened before. Because yeah, Richie, tipsy, singing ‘Don’t You Want Me’ to his face wasn’t something that happened every day.

He can’t get the mental image of Richie Tozier, the Trashmouth, looking into his eyes through his big ass, ridiculous glasses, like he was looking deep inside of him, searching for something. His face was so close that if Eddie had leaned in, their foreheads would’ve surely touched. Eddie wasn’t sure of what Richie wanted to accomplish with that little performance, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t shaken to the core. Hell, he was getting goosebumps only by thinking about it.

Richie Tozier. The disaster, foul-mouthed, ill-mannered, boy. The Trashmouth, the most hyperactive person Eddie had ever met, the one that had a talent of getting on his nerves. He couldn’t believe what he was about to say, but being in denial with himself was just stupid at this point. He had felt the atmosphere. He had felt Richie’s gaze. How the hell could a person give you butterflies by drunk-singing a fucking tacky 80’s song? He had no idea, but it was driving him nuts.

In that moment, Eddie Kaspbrak realized something that, honestly, it had always been so clear that he mentally punched himself on the face.

“I like Richie Tozier” he muttered.

And it felt good saying it out loud.

He actually felt better. Lighter even. Voicing the intrusive thoughts he had been having whenever he caught himself staring at Richie was kind of liberating.

“I like Richie Tozier” he repeated, this time louder, raising his head from his hands “I like Trashmouth”.

He giggled. He hadn’t felt this brave since he jumped from the highest spot of the quarry into the lake.

“I like Richie! Richie Tozier! Trashmouth!” he exclaimed between fits of laughter “I like him! I have a crush on him!” Eddie felt liberated, blabbering out loud to no one around him, speaking freely like he hadn’t in years “And I like his eyes, his hair, his jokes! His stupid-ass glasses, his hideous shirts! His dumbfuck smile! I would fucking kiss that smile!”

“Well, i-is guh-good to see y-you’re finally acc-accepting it”.

Eddie jumped, shrieking in surprise at the sound of Bill’s stutter, getting onto his feet almost defensively.

“What? Me? Accepting what?” he laughed nervously “What’s to accept, I’ve been just sitting here, in silence! What are you-!”

“Ed-Eddie I heard th-the whole th-thing” Bill said smiling at him from the bar’s entrance.

The small boy just stared at him from his awkward stance, looking like a deer in the headlights. They held each other’s gazes for what it felt hours, and when Eddie realized he wouldn’t be able to convince his friend that he misheard his blabbering, he groandes.

“C-come on, sit w-with me” Bill said, approaching him and sitting down on the sidewalk, the same spot Eddie was before. The other boy just sighed and droped himself next to his friend.

“So” he started “you heard me”.

“Yup” Bill nodded.

“All of it”.

“Yes”.

“About the glasses and the hair and the shirts” Eddie started flailing his arms around.

“Mhm”.

“Even the thing about his smile and the k-”.

“Ed-Eddie!” Bill stopped him, grabbing him by the wrists. “I h-heard all”.

“Jesus fuck” he whined “Jesus fuck! I’m pathetic and I’m so screwed”.

“Yuh-you’re not scru-screwd” Bill reassured him.

“But I am Bill!” Eddie just wanted the earth to swallong him whole “because-”.

“Eddie”.

“-you are going to tell Stan, which I understand, I wouldn’t get mad! You trust him with everything, but then Stan will tell Richie!”.

“Eddie” .

“Not willingly, because I know Stan can keep a secret but what if he gets drunk-”.

“Ed-Eddie!”.

“-or worse! When he, Bev and Richie get high and it just slips! I am in such deep shit! What th-!”.

“Kasp-brack!” Bill managesd to say “C-Calm down! I’m n-not gonna tuh-tell Stan!”.

Eddie closed his mouth, looking at Bill for a moment while the other boy gave him a half, endearing smile.

“You’re… you’re not?” he asked cautiously.

“Of c-course n-not!” he exclaimed “Muh-mainly because it’s yuh-your decis-cission to share it with us whenevuh-ver you’re ready, guh-got it?”.

Eddie smiled and nodded, relaxing all the tension he has unknowingly built in his shoulders.

“B-But also becuh-cause he already kn-knows” he smirked.

“WHAT?! How? When? WHO THE FUCK TOLD HIM?!” If Eddie though that he was getting anxious before, this was worse. He started patting his pockets and pulled out his inhaler, giving it a puff.

“Y-you did duh-dumbass” Bill laughed, ruffling his hair.

“The fuck you mean Denbrough” the other boy squeaked.

“Man, you tuh-truly are oblivi-vious”.

“What does that mean Bill!” Eddie exclaimed with a shrill tone.

“It muh-means that you are n-not as sneaky as you th-think” Bill said smiling fondly at him “D-Do you really thu-think we d-d-don’t see the duh-dumb smile you always g-get when you luh-look at Richie?”.

Bill laughed at the tiny noise that came from Eddie’s mouth.

“O-or how yuh-you are the o-o-o-only one that laughs at hu-his lame juh-jokes?”.

“Oh my god, I truly am pathetic” Eddie groaned.

“Nah, you’re nuh-not.” Bill chuckled “You j-j-just drive us a buh-bit nuts. Espuh-pecially Bev”.

Eddie managed to half-smile, still embarrassed about the whole situation. It wasn’t like he didn’t want Bill (or for what Bill has told him, all of the losers)to know. After all, they’re best friends, and always have been, through thick and thin. But he had never been 100% sure for his feelings towards Richie until a couple of minutes ago, when he blurted out loud the words “I like Richie Tozier”.

“So what now?” Eddie asked his friend. He truly hopes he didn’t look as nervous as he felt like.

“N-now we go inside. I’m fuh-fucking freezing” Bill replied, earning a laughter from Eddie “B-but about the Richie thu-thing, don’t wuh-worry, we would n-n-never tell him”.

“I know Bill, I know” Eddie’s voice was small, unsure. There was a pause, and the two boys just stayed sitting on the sidewalk, Bill shaking lightly from the cold, but didn’t push Eddie to get back inside.

“What if I wanted him to know?” suddenly the small boy muttered.

“Wuh-what?” Bill quirked an eyebrow at him, being unable to hide his smile.

“What if… I told him? Do you think he would freak out?” he asked again, this time a surer tone on his voice.

“Eddie…”

“Because if I say anything and he doesn’t like me back that could fuck up our group forever”

“Edd-”

“And you guys don’t deserve that! Just because I have a dumb crush!”

Dumb crush my ass Bill thought.

“Eddie!” he stopped him before his friend started rambling again “I’m saying thu-this because I luh-love you, b-but you t-t-t-t-trully are uh-oblivious”.

Bill had always know that the day Eddie Kaspbrak learned that Richie Tozier, the Richie Tozier, had a crush on him, he would flip. But in that moment he was taken aback, seeing his friend turn completely silent, realization hitting him. His face contorted into a dumbstruck expression, eyes growing wide and face turning red.

“A-and suh-seriously, lets guh-get inside, muh-my ass is fuh-freezing”.

#it (2017)#eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #reddie #richie x eddie #eddie x richie #bill denborough #reddie it #bill it #richie it #modern au #dumb crushes #it (2017) fanfiction #mine

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felinehypocritical · 7 years

Note

hi hope ur having a good day! can you pls write some stenbrough hc's or a fic about when bill first gives stan his baseball jersey to wear and stan is all flustered and excited???

“You cuh-c-can huh-have it if yuh-y-hou want.” Bill’s voice is quiet in the small space of his room, and Stan looks up from where he’s tracing the embroidery on his jersey. They’re in Bill’s small bedroom after the fifth game of his third season of baseball, supposedly doing homework, but really just sitting and talking, and Stan’s hand follows the sewn pattern of the patch that says 06 on it before he glances up and catches Bill’s eyes with his own.

“Gee, really, Bill? Can I?” Stan’s voice is tempered with eagerness and excitement, and he unconsciously balls a fist into the material.

Bill nods, his messy, slightly sweaty hair pieces falling out of place and across his face. Stan reaches up and absently fixes them, smoothing a hand over his boyfriend’s red waves and letting his hand fall to cup Bill’s freckled cheek, before dropping it all together. Bill practically nuzzled into the touch at how rare and nice it was. “Yuh-yeah, I m-m-mean, untuh-hil the next guh-g-game,” he replies after a moment, before he moves away from Stan, who flops against the bed when Bill leaves his post as a support pillar, and starts unbuttoning his shirt to reveal his white long sleeved undertop, before tossing the shirt on top of Stan. The smaller boy scrambles up, taking the dirty shirt off of his head and inspecting it.

“Oh, GROSS,” Stan complains. “You put your dirty shirt on my head, that’s weird, Bill.”

Bill smiles at him in return, taking the shirt back delicately and starting to fold it. “Guh-huess you don’t w-wuh-want it th-then, do you?”

“No!” Stan reaches for the shirt, but Bill only holds it higher. “Give it!” Bill just laughs, backing up a bit, and soon enough Stan’s going en pointe just to reach the shirt.

He‘s still much too short, obviously, and Bill lowers the shirt to give back to his boyfriend before dropping it onto Stan’s fingertips and stepping backwards. “Thuh-th-there.” he grins at Stan’s indignant face. “Nuh-now you’ve got it.”

“I guess,” He huffs, folding it up and sliding it inside his backpack. Checking his watch, he blows a lock of hair out of his eye in a way that makes Bill’s heart flutter in a familiar way. “Aw, shoot, it’s closer to curfew than I thought. I gotta get home, Big Bill.”

He picks up his backpack, kissing Bill on the cheek absently before he starts heading out the door to his car.

And Bill flops back onto his bed, sighing a little and smiling at the feeling of Stan’s lips on his cheek. In a rare moment of weakness, he touches his hand to the spot where he was kissed.

The day had been great- he’d won the game, aced a quiz, gotten a kiss from Stan… Bill was a simple guy to please. There wasn’t much to it.

He’d find out the next day what a simple guy he was.

It really wasn’t all that good at first- Stan drove to school where Bill biked, they didn’t have the first few periods together- but come lunch break and Bill’s day got astronomically better.

The redhead was walking out of the mess hall with his vending-machine chips and soda in hand when he saw Stan sitting in his regular spot, waiting for Bill to come so they could find a spot to sit. They almost always sat on campus- they didn’t like the park much, anyways, but a bunch of the people they didn’t much need to be bothering with sat there. When Bill saw what Stan was wearing, though, he felt a wave of goosebumps

(shockflesh)

run up his arms.

Stan was in his uniform shirt.

Why was Bill surprised by this? He scolded himself. Obviously Stan was going to wear it, he gave it to him. Shirts were meant to be worn.

He guessed he just didn’t figure Stan would look so good in it.

It wasn’t the right size, that’s for sure. Not even close. The sleeves went down to his elbows and the bottom grazed the middle of his thigh, and it was like a tent on Stan’s tiny shoulders and chest and waist- everything, really. Stan was a tiny guy. It hung off of him like wet clothes on a line.

It certainly wasn’t anything like his usual fitted, slim-cut button ups with slacks or corduroy pants that were wonderfully complimentary of his figure, but it looked just as good as them over his khaki shorts. God, Bill thought, snorting a little, Stan always had looked so preppy in those shorts- he hadn’t worn them for years, not since

(since he almost died his face was so covered in blood you can still see the scars oh my god where are the scars now where did they go)

middle school, but you could hardly see them under the shirt. He wasn’t wearing a visible baseball undershirt, but he’d buttoned it up all the way so it barely hinted at collarbone. His hair matched the whole just-got-out-of-bed aesthetic, too, Bill though lovingly, longing to run his hands through the messy nest of curls on Stan’s head. It was obviously done with the intention of looking undone. It even looked tousled.

“Hey, kuh-k-kid,” Bill greeted, taking Stan’s hand and helping him up, reciprocating the little smile Stan was giving him.

“Heya, Bill.” Stan looked down at himself, his curls flopping upside down with the rest of his head, and he glanced up at Bill, his smile growing into a mischievous grin. “Like my shirt?”

Bill frowned slightly. “Nuh-not your shuh-sh-shirt. It’s muh-m-m-hine.” He tugged at the hem. “You’re juh-just b-b-borrowing it.”

“Whatever you say Bill,” Stan replied, rolling his eyes affectionately. “But do you like it?”

The redhead looked down at the smaller boy, surveying him with surgical care he didn’t really need. “Yuh-yeah,” He said finally. “Thuh-there’s only wuh-wuh-one thing.”

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Ih-it s-s-says Denbrough on the buh-b-back, right?”

“Mhm.”

“And puh-people know weh-we’re kinda together, ruh-right?”

“Yeah, I guess…” Stan’s eyes darted around Bill’s face for a clue of what he meant, but Bill only smiled.

“Ih-it just looks a l-little like…” He trailed off. “Luh-like you sp-spuh-spent the night over and nuh-needed a chuh-change.” Bill walked on in silence, leaving Stan confused.

Stanley jogged up after him, not used to the speed, holding onto Bill’s shoulder and asking, “so? Who cares?” He kept walking on his tippy toes, forcing Bill down a little into a slouch as he talked. “I’ve slept over at your house before school before.”

“Y-y-yeah,” Bill practically hissed. “Buh-huh-hut not coming to scuh-scuh-school the day after in m-my cluh-hothes, Stah-hanley.”

The confused look on Stan’s face shifted, and his hands went to his trim waist and settled on his tips. “Oh,” he said with a grin. “So that’s what’s up with you.” He straightened the shirt and grabbed Bill’s hand, mussing up his hair with his free one, and kept walking.

“S-s-s-so…” Bill trailed off. The shorter boy looked up at him with a smirk. “So, yuh-you’re okay with th-th-that?”

“Mhm!” Stan’s curls bobbed as he nodded and he pressed a quick kiss onto Bill’s jaw- the only place he could reach from so far below. “I love it, actually. I know why you were staring now, at least.”

“I wuh-wasn’t st-st-staring,” Bill mumbled, looking away. “I was j-j-just… ah-admiring.”

“Admiring?”

“Ah-ah-admiring.”

“Hm.” Stan looked up at his boyfriend, tapping his chin as if wondering something, like a detective. Bill felt his heart leap a little at how cute Stan looked like that. “Admiring isn’t what it looked like.”

Sighing in frustration, Bill looked back at the thin brunnet. “Ih-it’s what it wuh-wuh-was,” he responded, squeezing Stan’s hand. “I swuh-swuh-swear

(swear to me youll all come back swear it i swear bill i do i love you i love you i love)

th-that’s all it w-w-was.” He was more earnest now, wanting to make it clear to Stanley he respected him and would never treat him like a pretty thing to look at and not to talk to, loved him enough to treat him with decency.

Stan chewed his lip, looking at Bill in thought, before breaking out in a new smile and bumping his hip playfully.

“It’s okay, Bill,” He said happily. “I’m glad you looked.”

And the way Stan’s hair gleamed in the late summer sun and his frame looked so dwarfed and lovely in his jacket (oh how Bill loved he could say it was his), Bill was glad he looked, too.

#stan uris #bill denbrough #it #stanny.txt

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richiesmashmouthtozier · 7 years

Text

BITE ME!

CHPT. 3/??

read: 1 | 2 | 3 |

A/N: This chapter is way longer than the first two but this is, without a doubt the best chapter yet. So sit back and read all about betrayal and trust issues hahahahahahahaha...

mentions: big thanks to @edsrich for reading the first version of this chapter (i rewrote it lol) and just generally showing interest and being nice:)

also a little mention to @tobzier for showing interest, you may not think you’ve done anything but you actually encouraged me by showing that you liked my idea so thanks:)

description: The losers are only 15 when Derry changes forever. The scars from It are barely faded when the newest threat hits the small town, Zombies. Most adults start getting infected one-by-one leaving many kids to fend for themselves, including the losers club. When Beverly is attacked and bitten by her father she can’t help but think she’s a danger to the club, there’s no escaping yourself.

Pairings: reddie, stenbrough, benverly

!!!!!!TRIGGER WARNINGS!!!!!!!!: description of gore and lots of it (it’s a zombie apocalypse), a lot of angst, so many swears oh mY GOD

this chapter: trust issues and angst

And without further ado,

Enjoy :)))))

————————

“You’re hair is winter, fire january embers, my heart burns there too…”

“No not that!”

“Come on Ben think!”

“Ugh this is stupid!”

Beverly woke up with very little memories of what happened the night before, she didn’t even know what time or day it was. She slowly opened her green eyes to reveal a foggy vision starting to adjust. her headache rushed through her brain making her squint. Her stomach was in agony as she curled into a ball. It rumbled and made weird noises, she was hungry. She was so fucking hungry goddamnit.

She thrashed the covers away and used one hand to support her getting up by holding the end table, her other hand, of course, was clenching her stomach. Her legs were shaking bad and felt numb as they hit the floor with every small step. The feeling went from her feet up and caused a wave of exhaustion spread despite her sleeping more than usual.

“He- help…” her voice was raspy and broken. She attempted walking but she had to remain hunched over. This position allowed her to notice all the little things around the room. there was paper scattered along the floor and around the window they threw their trash out of. Along with that there were crayons and broken pencils, almost every typical writing utensil you could find. She didn’t have the time (or energy) to think about what that was all about and kept walking, very slowly.

she took off the giant coat that had been wrapped around her to reveal the bloodstained inside caused by her bloody clothes from the previous zombie wave. She was burning hot but once she took off the jacket she was cold, so she draped the coat over her shoulders without putting her arms through the sleeves. Her steps were slow and she swayed back and forth but she finally reached the door. Her shaking hand pulled the handle down and the door opened. She continued walking down the hallway.

“Bev, what the fucking hell?” Richie quickly finished the stairs and came to the girls side, “You look like complete shit!”

“Richie…” she said at a whisper, “I- I need food…”

“This is all because you’re fucking hungry?” he said surprised as she used his arm as a support beam, “What type of dreams are you having to make you this goddamn hungry?”

“Shut up…” he stomach felt like it was being stabbed and it made weird bubble noises.

“Bill! Get a plate of food!” He yelled. She squinted from hearing the loud noise and her ears started mildly ringing. He picked her up wedding style and carefully walked down stairs.

“Wuh-wuh-what’s wruh-wrong?” Bill said placing the plate on the table with stan resting his chin on his shoulder.

“Bev is starving? I’m not really sure what’s happening either to be honest,” Richie replied helping her in her seat. Eddie took a breath from his inhaler in shock of what he was seeing.

“Jesus Bev!” Stan said. She was gorging the beans as fast as she could with the small fork. The three boys stared at her with confusion that it made Mike confused when he entered the room.

“Um why are we all starting- the hell is she doing?”

She lifted her chin from her last bite and dabbed her napkin around her mouth, “Why is everyone staring?”

“Why? You were eating faster than any animal I’ve ever seen!” Mike said. She glared at him.

“I’m sorry i got hungry,”

“That’s seems like an understatement,” Stan said.

“Yeah that seems a little unhealthy,” Mike said.

“How many times do I have to say that I’m fine?” she got up with both hands on the table, “You don’t need to worry about everything that happens to me,”

“Buh-bev-“ Richie nudged him and gave him the “this won’t help anything so just stop talking” look and Bill nodded.

“I grabbed your guys’s backpacks while I was down there and two of the flashlights need new batteries- BEV!” Ben came from the basement and dropped everything in his hands to run over and hug her, “Holy shit I thought- well i didn’t know what to think!” Bev hugged back but needed to double take on what just happened.

“Uh.. Thanks ben,” she did the only thing she knew what to do when she liked someone and tried to ignore him and focus on something else before she made a fool of herself, “Are you guys going out to town?”

“We were planning on going to the convenience store on Woodblock street,” Mike said rolling up his map.

“Well then I guess I woke up just in time then,” she gave ben his coat back and hesitated but winked, “I’m not waiting up!” she grabbed her backpack hanging over a chair.

“Beverly you can’t be serious,” Stan said parting from Bill.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she gave the sassiest look she could.

“Bev i don’t think this is the best idea,” Ben said holding his coat real tight.

“You legit just died, stuffed your face and now you want to fucking go on an adventure? You’re fucking high, dude,” Richie said looking to Eddie to see if he agreed, he didn’t look at him but he could tell he did.

“Look are we going or not?” Bev said tapping her foot.

“Leh-l-let’s just guh-guh-guh-go,” Bill said walking towards the door.

“Bill,” he looked back to see Stan with his hand on his shoulder and the rest of the boys. All of them were staring at him with mixed expressions: angry and confused.

“Big Bill you might want to rethink this,” Richie said leaning with one hand on the table.

“Yeah you’re going crazy,” Eddie said shaking what was left of his prescription (he’s been saving it up since the apocalypse even though he knew it was all bullshit).

“Luh-luh- look, Bev just guh-got a little sih-sih-sih-sick, she slept all day, o-o-obviously she was huh-hungry,” everyone knew they should follow Bill- he was their leader after all- but in the back of their minds they thought it was wrong. Stan especially was wondering why he kept defending her. Ben was thankful for it but he was worried about his crush, he had spent the whole time she was sleeping making a poem about her just in case something… bad happened.

“We’ll wuh-wuh-wait about a-an hour t-to prepare some muh-muh-more, than we’ll go,”

“Sounds like a plan,” Bev said and threw her backpack on the table top and ran upstairs.

“What the fuck is up with chick,” Richie said out of the silence.

Bev stared herself down in the mirror of her room. Her overalls were covered in blood as for her skin. Her hair was starting to grow out more and it was halfway down her neck. She felt weak. She felt scared. She didn’t feel like herself at all. She started pacing. The feeling of terror hadn’t crossed her this bad in two years when she was forced to face her biggest fear. What was her biggest fear now?

She shook off the thoughts. Don’t be stupid, she said to herself and she did the only thing that felt right.

Exactly an hour went by and Bev came downstairs wearing the same outfit she had worn when they first defeated It. Everyone stared at her surprised, she hadn’t wore that dress since that day. Just seeing Bev in that outfit made them all shiver in fear.

“Is that hair on your shoulder?” Stan pointed out.

“Probably,” She shrugged and dusted it off. She had cut her hair as short as it was with worn down scissors she found in a closet. Of course she didn’t look like she did when she was 13 but, hell, it was close enough to make the rooms air fell thin.

“Wuh-wuh-well we better get going,” Bill said looking back at everyone as they gathered their stuff.

They walked in a in a horizontal line with Bill in the middle holding a fence post nice and tight (with Stan right next to him and the butt of his gun sticking out of his backpack).

Ben stood awkwardly at Beverly’s left (Bill was at the right) and tried to observe Richie and Eddie on the other side. Everyone knew they liked each other, especially after last night's bonfire, and Ben wanted to see how they did it. How they would be so close and nothing was weird. Then he observed Beverly. That outfit made all her features stand out more since the last time she wore that was 2 years ago.

She had grown and he hoped he did too but he never noticed anything new with himself but the people around him seemed to be growing physically and mentally. That wasn’t always a good thing considering Stan was officially diagnosed with OCD and Eddie’s Anxiety got worse to the point where the pills weren’t (gazebos) placebos. His mental health wasn’t right after the event but his mother was too poor to pay for a medical bill to check if there was something they could do about it, but all they could was hope it didn’t get worse.

“This is it!” Mike said almost triumphantly as they walked between an old flower shop to see at the other side of them was an empty convenience store. They had taken the path through the canal where less zombies roamed and kept a sharp eye out. They never talked unless they were in the building that was already checked for those rotten corpses.

Richie went in first and checked to see if there were any zombies in the front and the rest poured in and checked the isles.

“All clear!” Stan yelled after checking the last aisle.

“Oh-okay guh-guys, get wuh-whatever you want,”

“I love being able to take anything I want,” he breathed taking in the scene. Trash mouth Tozier adapted the easiest to the whole apocalypse, no one to miss and no one to miss him, except for his losers. Everyone thought that was sad but they couldn’t lie about the single moments of feeling free.

“Don’t take too much, Tozier we gotta haul this back to the house,” Mike said picking up more cans of baked beans in the third aisle.

“Do you think they’ll have jerky here?” Bev spoke up from the “female product” aisle. Mike audibly gagged at the thought.

“Since when do you like beef jerky?” Stan said while getting jars of peanut butter.

“I dunno, I was just kinda craving something,” Her eyes scanned the store in a hunt for the dried meat. Stan rolled his eyes, after that everyone figured it was just “that time of the month” so no one said anything. The simple sounds of shuffling and small talk was abruptly interrupted by the shrill voice of Eddie Kaspbrak’s high pitched squeal.

“EDS?” Richie yelled running to the other aisle.

“FUCK OFF ME!” He’s voice pierced through the air.

“Eddie?” Mike ran with Richie.

“What’s happening?” Ben yelled as loud as his timid self would allow him next to the girl he loved. Bev started to smell something.

Was that blood?

Why could she smell that?

It smelt like meat?

Did it smell g-

“GET OFF HIM!” Richie yelled interrupting her thoughts.

“Holy shit!” She grabbed Ben’s arm and ran past the empty aisles clutching a fence stick in her other hand.

“FUH-FUH-FUCK!” Bill yelled. When they finally got to the other end of the store they saw the bunch of losers swinging their arms. Eddie was being ripped through the wall by a pair of rotting hands tearing at his clothes and skin. Eddie had one arm on the decaying hand trying to choke him and his other arm was being pulled by Richie who was being supported by Mike. Stan was shooting hands best he could without hitting their victim, but nothing was working.

“Stay out of my way!” Stan was yelling to all of the conflicted teens.

“HELP!” Eddie’s voice cracked. Beverly felt something inside her switch.

“Sorry Stan!” She shoved him out of the way and did the only thing her brain would tell her. She got a good grip on one of those arms and yanked it.

“HOLY FUCK!” Eddie screamed.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” Stan said. Ben stared in utter shock.

“SHI-SH-SHIT!” Bill stuttered out.

The arm had been ripped out and the blood was pouring everywhere along with chunks of skin. After the arm was detached Richie took his chance and wrapped his arms around the small boy’s waist and lifted him up with all his strength. He got him far enough from the wall that Ben could use the extra axe the store kept to cut off the arms. They were all running out of the horrific crime scene but Ben stopped at the door, “Bev?” he yelled. She was standing there shaking with the arm in her hands.

What the fuck have I done.

Why the fuck was I gonna do that…

“BEV?” Stan yelled louder.

“Oh shit! uh… sorry,” She threw the at the floor and stumbled into things on her way of running out. After everyone was outside Stan used his second to last bullet and shot the zombie in the head. After that they ran to the back hesitantly and continued along the stream.

“AUGH!” Bev screamed as she hunched over and fell down. Everyone turned to her.

“Uh… Bev?” Bill crouched down and reached a supporting hand.

“GO AWAY!” She swung her arm out and pushed him off balance into the water.

“Bev what the hell?” Richie walked towards her. she started to crawl backwards onto land, “GET AWAY FROM ME!” She was bent over due to the incomparable pain rising in her stomach.

“Bev calm down!” Mike tried to sound supportive.

“FUCK YOU!” She threw a rock at him.

“Beverly?” Ben said quietly walking ahead everyone.

“Bev stop!” Richie yelled. She stared at him with betrayal.

“Holy fuck,” Eddie said under his breath behind the trash mouth.

“AUGH!” She started to cry.

“Bev!” Ben ran to her. she lifted her head up to look at him in the eye. Her eyes started rolling back showing the whites in them.

“WOAH!”

“SHIT!”

“HAYSTACK!”

Stan ran to the front ahead of Bill who was stunned and stuck in the dirt.

He pointed his gun at her.

“Bev what the fuck!” his voice cracked.

“Woah Stan!” Richie yelled, he motioned forward but Eddie grabbed his arm and gave him a scared expression.

“UGH!” she grabbed her face and clenched her hair. She grabbed her bag and stuffed her arm into it. She grabbed the jerky and ripped off the top with her teeth and gorged on it, crouching over her knees. She whipped her head towards the losers club and as if fog had cleared in her eyes, the polished emeralds appeared again.

“I- What- I uh,” She tried to spit out.

“Hey,” Ben said timidly out of the crowd, “You’re okay. We’re- We’re all okay.”

She started crying against a tree as the rest of the gang dragged out of the water to comfort her.

“I’m so sorry…”

Ben was in the room with Bev, Richie was sure they were asleep by now. The rest of them sat on the ripped up couch in the living room. Eddie was leaning on Richie with what was left in his tear ducts stained on his cheeks. Richie was in the same disoriented condition, but everyone knew it was worse. This was the first real loss he’d experienced and she wasn’t even “gone” yet. Mike was in the kitchen cleaning up, it’s what he did when he stressed out. The three could hear Bill and Stan yelling at each other in the bathroom.

“YOU-YOU WERE GUH-GUH-GOING TO KUH-KUH-KUH-KILL HER STAN!”

“SHE COULD’VE KILLED YOU!”

Richie squinted while listening to the yells. Eddie was squeezing his hand noticing the tense feelings.

“WELL FUCK BILL! I DIDN’T KNOW WE WERE KEEPING ZOMBIES HERE NOW!”

“STUH-STAN STOP IT! DUH-DUH-DON’T TALK ABOUT BUH-BEV LIKE THE-THAT!”

“Whatever, Bill,”

“YOU’RE FUH-FUH-FUCKING JEALOUS!”

“OH DON’T YOU FLATTER YOURSELF BIG BILL!”

“You’ve ah-always been jeh-jealous of Bev! YOU-YOU’VE ALWAYS BEEN-”

“YOU’RE A DICK! THIS ISN’T ABOUT ME! THERE’S A FUCKING ZOMBIE IN THIS HOUSE GODDAMNIT! AND I’M THE ONLY ONE WHO SEEMS TO CARE!”

“S-STAN STOP IH-IT!”

“STOP WHAT?”

“STUH-STUH-STUH-STOP!”

CRACK

“What the-“ Mike flinched.

Everyone jolted upright. There was a hole in the bathroom door and blood around the left splinters. Bill started crying uncontrollably and fell into Stan's arms, the bird boy just looked at the door in shock while holding his lover close to his chest. All the while two emerald eyes were silently pouring rains from the hallway at the top of the steps.

———————-

A/N: HEYOO!!! I have no idea on how y’all are going to react to this lmao but sorry for my shit writing pretending that what i wrote was so good and hyping it up haha.

Be the first on my tag list? send me an off anon ask!!!!1!!

I don’t have any previews for the next chapter yet sorry:/ but just a btw I’m writing this while crying my eyes out because of the last episode of stranger things.

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rickyhorrorolson · 6 years

Text

it has a title now!

Caught in the Middle (2/?)

prev. / next

Red flags were blaring in Bills mind when he’d finally gotten an update from Stan. If his job didn’t leave him with the knowlege of what goes on out on the streets they work he would have written both of them off as paranoid. They were being watched by someone because they were now connected to Bill. He already managed to get Georgie safe from his line of business, he can protect his new friend and boyfriend.

Bill felt niave, he hadnt realized how closely they were being watched until Bev had handed him a manilla folder. She simply rose her perfectly sculpted brow silently telling Bill to follow her. Avoiding grabbing any unwanted attention, Bill followed her to her office without a single peep.

Once safely shut in her office, she plopped into her chair and waited as he sat across from her, pulling glossy photos from the stiff folder. The picture on top was the day Stan let him meet Richie. Or let Richie meet him depending on your prospective. They were at a little cafe they had helped through hard times. The pictures in succesion had shown Bill arriving at the table they two had gotten comfortable at. Stan standing to give him a hug. Then shaking Richies hands before the three re-situated themselves. They had been there for hours just talking. It was a wonderful day, but a chill ran down Bills spine now, that day started this all. He should have been more careful, people follow him with typically empty threats all the time. They shouldn’t have to deal with this.

The next set was of Stan at work, slightly blurred in the window of the building. He was placing books back on shelves, his co-worker fixing tags close behind. The following picture, Bill almost wanted to keep. Stan looked beautiful, mid-laugh, probably at something his co-worker said. Who is now looking familiar through the blur. The one with a big genuine smile had Bills heart skipping a beat. Bev cleared her throat to break him out of his daze, flipping through the next set of pictures.

It was Richie at work, his shirt was an awfully bright color wit the kids gym logo on it. The front tucked into his pants as he had lead by example, handstands against the wall. Face red from being upside down for god knows how long. The pictures in the set had Ricie returning to his feet, looking graceful for once in his life.

Knowing they are being followed to their place of work has Bill unsettled. There was still a hefty ammount of pictures he hadn’t looked at yet. That fact put dread in Bill. Where else had they been followed. He almost doesn’t want to know.

Taking a deep breath, Bill moved onto the next picture. It was Stan out early in the morning, the ligt hitting him so perfectly he looked godly. He was at the park binoculars and all, birdwatching before everyone flocked to burn their kids energy. Birdwatching. He was birdwatching. Bill felt a tug on his heart strings, he looked cuter than ever doing something so mundane. There were more from that morning, Stan taking polariods and sticking them in the book he brought along.

The pictures thusfar were all taken in public, Bill felt uneasy but full panic had yet to set in as he flipped to the next set. It was pictures of them alone, or hanging out together but all in public.

Bill could only hear is heart beat as he continued. There was a picture, crystal clear a shot into their living room. Both boys on the couch, a bowl of popcorn inbetween them, wrapped in blankets as Richie chose a movie. He was slipping through them faster now. Richie asleep on the couch. Stan making breakfast. Stan asleep in is own bed. Richie in is bed.

Pictures of the day Richie had locked himself in a public bathroom and called Stan crying. Him practically running across the street and into an arcade. Stan showing up. Then them both leaving. The creep was close enough to have a clear shot of Richies red blotchy face. Stans knuckles white, holding Richies hand so tight. That was followed by the two curled up in Stans bed, both clearly in a restless sleep.

“Wuh-What can I do right now to protect them.” Bills jaw set as he looked down at the photo in his hands.

“There’s always having our people watch them, it’d open a window to find the crepe taking these.” Bev offered.

“I don’t want them to feel eh-anymore puh-paranoid. They already feel this creeps eyes on them. I wont go behind their backs.” He pointed to the picture of Stan and Richie outside the arcade “He luh-locked himself in the bah-bathroom. He cuh-called Stan crying. He nuh-knew this creep was f-following him.”

“What do you want to do, tell them about what you really do for a living? Get them involved in this? Then what?” Bev had a point, he hated that she always had a point.

“Could we assign bodyguards to them? I won’t give any in-information about what we do. Stan thinks I’m a normal duh-debt collector.” Bev was rubbing his temples. “I’ll ask Stan how he fuh-feels about it, then we can move on from the-there.”

“You’re making this job harder, Denbrough.” There was a beat of silence. “Make sure he’s a hundred percent okay wiht being watched like that. I’ll pull files of our best people.”

Bill could kiss her. “Thank you s-so much Bev! I owe you one!”

He could hear her laugh as he left her office. “You always owe me one, Denbrough! Let me know what happens!”

He and Stan were having lunch in the shared appartment when Bill brought it up. “I duh-don’t feel com-comfortable leaving you and Richie alone.” Stan raised a delicate eyebrow placing his glass back on the table.

“What do you mean? We’re fine.” Bill eyebrows drew together.

“Meeting eachother halfway from work and home isn’t fine.” Stan now had sat back with his arms crossed. “I nuh-know you and Richie are more than capible of taking care of yourselves and I may be over stepping a boundary.” Stan didn’t look happy, this wasn’t going well. “It would give me a puh-peace of mind knowing someone was here for you guys, watching out for any sus-suspicious people. I know it would take a weight off both of you to not worry about being alone for extended puh-periods of time.”

“I appreiciate your concern, but this is someting I’d have to run by Richie” Bill noticeably relaxed as Stan dropped his defensive look.

“If you ch-choose to allow body guards in your life, I’ll bring you some files of people I trust.” Stan snorted.

“How many guards do you need, Denbrough?” Stan was now leaning forward, chin rested on his hand. “Is being debt collector that dangerous?”

Bill laughed this time. “You don’t know the ha-half of it, Uris.

If Bill took longer to get back because Stans lips were addicting, Bev didn’t have to know. Being pulled back into the appartment to soft lips again with whispered words was something he didn’t want to give up. Yeah, Bev didn’t have to know.

A weight was lifted off his shoulder when Stan texted him that night a list of time he and Richie he were home and to bring his files of body guards. Once he glanced at the time a new weight entered, Stan never texts him past midnight. First thing the next morning Bill swiped up the files of body guards from Bev and headed to the shared apartment.

Richie was the one to answer the door, he looked tired. He squinted at Bill witout his glasses on, dark circles under is eyes. "Hey, Bill. Stans in the kitchen.” The shorter boy stepped back letting him in. “I’ll join you guys in a minute.” Richie patted is arm before heading back towards his room.

Bill smiled as his eyes fell on Stan as he’s pouring two cups of coffee. “Hey,” Stan turned and threw a smile over is shoulder as Bill left the files on the dining table. moving to place a kiss on Stans temple. “Good morning.” he was met wit a mumbled greating and a cup of coffee handed to him and a kiss placed on his own cheek.

Stan looked as tired as Richie. Dark cicrles and paler complextion. “How’d you sleep last night, babe.”

Stan sighed into his cup of coffee. “Something happened. Richie wont tell me what happened.” He hadn’t looked uo from his cup. “He stayed in my room last night, he didn’t fall asleep until late. Even then it was restless.” Bills eyebrows drew together, no wonder he accepted the offer of bodyguards so soon.

Before anything else was said Richie showed up, looking sligtly more awake, his glasses magnifying his own circles. Looking like actual bruising on pure white skin. He sat down, placing his water carefully of the files sitting on the edge of the table. “So what do you got for us, Big Bill.” he wasted no time swiping up the one on top.

Richie had been drawn to Mike Hanlon. Given Mikes file is the only one her was interested in enough to completely read. Many of the others he read one line and passed over to Stan. “Are you really just a debt collector, Billiam? Why would you need to have worked with all these body guards?” Richie had a goofy smile on is face. Bill looked to Stan who was hiding his own smile behind the folder of Eddie Kaspbrak.

“Shut up, Richie.” Stans tone was light, he had this look in his eye. Bill was caught off guard by Richies scoff.

“A betrayl, Staniel. You of all people.”

It was Bills turn to laugh “Staniel, really now.”

“I’m amazed we’re still friends Tozier. Once that trashmouth gets going, I shut off.” Stan had punctuated his statement, mouthing a blah blah blah while hand puppeting it. The two errupted into laughter much like the day Bill had met Richie. They played off eachother scary good.

It was all going smoothly until Richie opened up the last file, “Wait Stan don’t, you work with Ben?” Bills heart stopped as he handed the file to Stan. How did someone like that slip through.

Stan had directed his attention towards him. “Why is Ben in your files of bodyguards?” Time to lie his ass off.

“Do you mind if I see? Our files are guh-getting re-or-rganized, there had to be a mix up.” Stan hesitated, before handing the Bill the file before getting a chance to read it. Bill hoped the relief wasn’t clear on his face, Ben was in the wrong section. He’s been a look out, not a body guard. Bev must have pulled his file for something else, she knew from pictures alone that they knew eachother. “Ben suh-sometimes hands over the puh-payments for your boss, we keep them all on file.”

Richie shrugged his shoulders in the shit happens manner. Stan previous expression fell, “Okay, babe.” Bill didn’t like the glint in is eyes, like he didn’t fully believe him. “Now tell me about this Eddie character. How much do you trust him?” Stan gave Richie a look for not asking questions before he chose Mike.

Bill however took the chance to change the subject. “Eddie is most feisty person I’ve ever met. He’s on the short side but he has so much fight in him when logic goes ou the window.” Stan looked impressed, Bill took the second to turn to Richie. “Mike is the best option for you. He can stop a problem before it arises. Better for slightly reckless and spontanious people.”

Richie fake gasped. “I’m not that reckless, am I, Stan?”

“When we met in middle school you were running for your life from Bowers. You still had a baby face and you were picking a fight with Bowers. I’d count that as reckless.” Stan had on his deadpan voice. Bills eyes were wide, hoping it wasn’t the same Bowers he was thinking.

“Henry had it coming and you know it!” Ofcourse it was the same bowers that had given him trouble before. Honestly how rude of you to leave out the important part of the story.“ Richie had turned to Bill. "Bowers had stolen Stans yarnmulke that morning. I didn’t necessarily pick a fight, I ran through Bowers gang and snatched it back. I may have called him an asshole, yes. But i didn’t pick a fight.” Bill felt proud of the shorter man before he glanced back at Stan who was smiling with a bit of color dancing back to his cheeks.

“You are one buh-ballsy idiot, Richie Tozier. I like that.” The three shared a lighthearted laugh. Yeah this would work out fine.

Their morning was cut when Bev started texting him about what needed to get done today. “Sorry to cut this wuh-wonderful morning short, gentlemen. But duty calls.” Richie snorted at Stans pout. “I’ll call out my boys and see how fast I can get them on a schuh-schedule to watch you guys.” Bill leaned down to kiss Stan. “I will however see you tonight.”

“Get a room.” Richie groaned as he swiped up his glass of water and making a quick exit. Stan laughed against Bills lips before kissing him again.

“I’ll see you later, Bill.” He didn’t want to leave, Stan looked so soft. Shooing him off, pushing his files into his arms. “You got work to do.” Bill laughed placing one more kiss on his a beautiful boy before he absolutely had to leave.

He placed the files back on Bevs desk, reorganized, who they’re hiring, rejected and Bens file which he will be asking her about later.

#long post #stenbrough #fic drop #citm

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