#Beverly god I already miss you so much is time going to make see you latera easier? or harder?

[theood]

Headache from what one can assume is not letting myself cry. I already feel a gaping hole in my heart. He should still be here with me.

I think... I think walking into my room will really do it. I got so used to him being there, to see him smile at me when I walked in. My room is going to feel so...lifeless.

I thought the 2 weeks was going slow. But it really feels like just yesterday we picked him up. I don't know how I'm going to make it till next we can meet again.

I just wanna stay with him forever, is that too much to ask?

#elias howls #I am NOT okay!!!!! I am not fucking ok. I will cry and snot right now I am SERIOUS #Beverly god I already miss you so much is time going to make see you latera easier? or harder? #I want you to hold my hand and squeeze it; three times means I love you. Don't you know? I can teach you. Hold mine tight okay? #I want to share my bed again and whine when you go to leave. Can't we stay like that for 5 more minutes? Just 5 more I promise...okay? I #won't fall back asleep to keep you close to me. #full on sobbing um. fuck!!!! I did better leaving your state god. babe we have to live together soon ok? promsie me that? #god how am I gonna sleep tonight? god. I don't know. I don't know. I don't. Hold me again soon please

[edwardskhakipants]

Forks, Washington. August 2004.

Esme and Carlisle stood in the middle of their grand living room, waiting for their five vampire children to arrive. Alice arrived first—prompt as usual. She settled herself gracefully onto the tufted sofa Esme had recently acquired, only to be immediately jostled by Emmett who heaved himself onto the cushions. A breath caught in Esme’s throat—she had lost many pieces from her beloved collection by that action—but it looked like this one was still in one piece. For the moment. Jasper took Edward’s normal spot in the only armchair, forcing Edward to wedge himself between Alice and Emmett.

“What?” Rosalie grumbled as she perched on the armrest of the couch beside Emmett, “Are we having another one of those How to Respect the Telepath in Your Life meetings again?”

“No,” Edward answered, fully aware of the intent of this meeting since it hatched in Carlisle's mind two days prior. “But there’s never a bad time to bring that up. Christ, Emmett, if you’re going to have a song stuck in your head for over seventy-two hours, the least you can do is learn the correct lyrics.”

Emmett’s eyebrows knit together, asking his brother a silent question.

“It’s ‘mulatto, an albino, a mosquito, my libido,’” Edward answered.

Emmett’s brow furrowed doubtfully.

“No.” Edward shook his head, answering Emmett’s thoughts. “Why would he eat a beetle?”

Emmett grinned playfully and tilted his head towards Edward.

Edward wasn’t amused. “You know what it means.”

A silly grin plastered on his face, Emmett elbowed Edward in the ribs, silently egging him on.  

Edward’s eyes darted to Carlisle, then Esme, and he shifted in his seat. “Sexual desire,” he muttered.  

Emmett howled with laughter and clapped his hands once, “Wow, Eddie! You’re just going to say that in front of Esme!?” Edward scowled as Emmett’s bouts of laughter echoed through the room.

Esme ran a hand through her youngest’s ginger hair. “Boys,” she warned, and Emmett sucked in his laughter.

“Our meeting today has to do with all of you,” Carlisle began.

“We simply wanted to go over the rules of attending school with you kids before you start your second year at Forks High School,” Esme explained, unfolding and re-folding her hands in front of her. “There are already whispers, and we don’t want those whispers to turn into rumors.”

“I thought the only whispers about us at school were whether or not Edward liked girls,” Rosalie said, earning an eye-roll from Edward.

“No,” Alice chirped,” Some kids think we’re a cult.”

Jasper leaned back heavily in his chair. “We haven’t heard that one since the Seventies.”

“Kids are getting more creative these days.” Emmett nodded appreciatively.

Esme held up one, delicate finger. “Which is why it is best to take preventative action.”

Carlisle took the floor. “We thought a few reminders would be helpful before you started your first day of your second year,” Carlisle said. “We don’t want another incident like the one we had at the end of last year.”

Every head in the room turned towards Emmett.

“What?” Emmett threw up his hands in exasperation, “The water gun fight was the senior prank—I wasn’t the one who brought them to the school. Hell, I wasn’t even the only student who got suspended!”

“That’s true,” Carlisle agreed, “but you were the only student to shout, ‘Sit down, kids! Daddy’s gotta tinkle,’ and shoot the stream of the gun from your crotch.”

Jasper snickered—the sound was immediately silenced by a single raised eyebrow from Esme.

“I still don’t see the problem,” Emmett continued, “That’s not necessarily a vampire thing.”

Edward—who often mistook himself as the third vampire parent rather than the youngest son—sighed, “Yes, but it brings unnecessary attention to the family. Which is the first rule: do not bring attention to yourself.”

Esme ran her fingers through her son’s hair once more, “Yes, darling, you are especially good at keeping to yourself.” Edward’s eyes widened, despite Esme’s gentle touch, already aware of where her point was headed. “So much so, that I have been given the names of several child therapists to help my son through his depression. One was recommended for his exceptional work on spotting and treating the early signs of sociopathic behavior.”

Esme grabbed her son’s chin and forced him to look at her. “You have to talk to other people.”

Knocked off his high horse, Edward flinched back from Esme’s hand. “Friendship with humans never bodes well for us.”

“We’re not asking you to create lifelong friendships with humans,” Carlisle clarified, “We are simply asking you to be likable.”

“A nearly impossible feat for Edward.” Rosalie grinned. The comment went unnoticed, save Edward’s slight flinch. But the quick, little tick was satisfying enough for Rose.

“Look at your father,” Esme gestured towards Carlisle, “At every hospital he works at, he goes out of his way to ensure he is well-liked among his colleagues. He forces down countless lunches and coffees, solely to make sure they’re comfortable around him.”

Carlisle took over. “And your mother, a beloved member of her gardening club and a prized member of the PTA.”

“And neither of us have rumors started about us, and do you know why?”

All five teenagers grumbled the ingrained response. “Humans don’t want to spread rumors about people they like.”

“Exactly.” Esme nodded.

“I try!” Alice whined, “But Edward never lets me talk to any humans.”

“That’s because every, single thing that is about to come out of your mouth is incriminating. You might as well walk around with a neon sign that says, ‘I’m a psychic vampire’.”

Alice scoffed, “Is not!”

“You wanted to tell Nihal Howard not to audition for the musical.”

“And he broke his leg on opening night,” Alice challenged.  

“You were going to tell Christiana Ward that pink was not her color.”

“And she lost prom queen to Ashley Kirby.”

Jasper put a comforting hand on his wife’s knee. “Maybe try not to meddle so much, darlin’. Natural relationships, first.”

“They would have been!” Alice wailed, “I would have played it cool and casual and made friends and you all would have seen it! But everyone’s hurt and I have no friends at all because Edward won’t let me try!”

Edward rolled his eyes.

Carlisle suppressed a heavy sigh. “You have to let your sister try, Edward.”

Edward’s mouth fell open. “You cannot seriously be siding with her on this!”

But Carlisle stood his ground. He and Edward stared at one another for a few seconds, engaged in a silent conversation. In the end, Carlisle tilted his chin and Edward slumped back. Victorious, Alice used both pointer fingers to jab Edward in the side several dozen times at vampire speed.

Rosalie flipped her golden locks over her shoulder. “I don’t know how you all struggle so much. I have no issues with becoming well-liked at school while remaining inconspicuous.”

“Oh yeah, you’re so inconspicuous,” Edward grumbled, now extra-petty that he had been called out two times in one meeting. “You dress like you're on your way to brunch at your second husband’s country club in Beverly Hills and you make out with your foster brother. The perfect picture of discretion in Forks High School.”

“At least I don’t dress like a sad, old man.” Rosalie grimaced, disappointed in her comeback. The light, humorous insults that were required in family situations were Emmett’s forte; Rosalie’s insults were meant to emotionally cripple a person.

Edward sat up in his seat on the couch and turned to face Rosalie. “I think you missed the main takeaway in that you make out with your foster brother.” Edward turned back. “I can read your minds, and I still don’t understand what made either of you think it was okay to bring your relationship to school?!”

Emmett smiled, unperturbed. “It’s hot.”

“It’s disturbing,” Edward disagreed.

Esme frowned, “You kids don’t really do that, do you?”

“Would it help if Jasper and I became an official couple too?” Alice suggested.     Jasper perked up at the idea of being able to hold hands with Alice in public again.

“No!” Edward yelled at the same time Emmett and Rosalie muttered their acquiesce.

“It wouldn’t seem as weird if there were two couples,” Emmett agreed.

Edward dug his fingers through his hair. “Oh my god!”

“...maybe not, kids,” Esme intervened, but was ultimately ignored.

“So should we come out today like it happened over the summer, or make a little show out of it?” Alice asked Rosalie.

Rosalie waved a hand in the air. “Oh, it’s way more fun if you play up the theatrics.”

“A little more realistic, too,” Emmett agreed.

Alice looked to Jasper for his opinion. “It might be better if we were discreet about it,” she said. “Like we knew it was wrong, but we wouldn’t let anything stand in the way of our love.”

Jasper scooted forward to the edge of his seat. “Or we could let it be quiet and drawn out. Let others see our mutual pining, and root for us to be together.”

Gazing deep into the golden eyes of her soulmate, Alice sighed, “I love that.”

“If people wanted us to get together, it would normalize Emmett and Rosalie’s relationship.”

“Or Rosalie and Emmett could stop,” Edward suggested, bitterly. “That would be normal, too.”

“Oh, Edward,” Alice patted his shoulder, “You’ll find love someday, too.”

“That is not at all what bothers me about the situation.”

Carlisle made the decision for everyone. “Rosalie and Emmett, break up at school. Alice and Jasper, remain friends and siblings.”

Disappointment filtered into the room through Jasper.  

“I heard that,” Edward grumbled at someone’s thoughts.

“You were supposed to,” Rosalie shot back.

“We are also initiating a new rule,” Esme brought the room back to the conversation at hand, “No more correcting your teachers.”

A chorus of complaints rang from the couch.

Esme clicked her tongue, “I’m tired of defending you all from entirely preventable issues. I have emails from curious teachers wondering why my foster daughter is taking French 101, when she already appears to be fluent.” Esme looked at Rosalie, who immediately tucked her bottom lip between her teeth. “Or why my son, at the tender age of sixteen, could not only deadlift three hundred pounds in his first weightlifting class, but also give his coach tips on improving his posture.”

Emmett glanced over at Edward before he realized Esme was, in fact, addressing him. “What!?”

Jasper snorted. The sound was a mistake, for it brought Esme’s wrath onto him. “And not to mention the emails from not one, not two, but three teachers warning me that my foster son has an intimate understanding of the mechanics of a point fifty-eight caliber rifle-musket.” Esme held out her hands, almost pleadingly, “How does that subject keep coming up, Jasper?”

A noncommittal grunt was the only answer Jasper had for that question.

“No more,” she commanded. “You can get good grades but keep your extra knowledge on any subject to yourself. Whatever your teacher teaches is all you know. Understand?”

“But what if we—” Edward started.

“Understand?” Esme repeated.

The five teenage vampires understood, even if they didn’t want to. 

“I believe that all five of you will graduate from Forks High School!” Esme cheered.

The kids stared back, unable to muster the zeal Esme had over the prospect.

“Meeting adjourned!” Carlisle announced, and faster than fast vampire speed, the kids bolted from their seats. 

Esme was able to get in a few more reminders as her children flitted around the house and filed out to the silver Volvo.  “Remember to buy lunch with cash and not your credit cards. Emmett, please do not joke about being mauled by a bear. Do not address your teachers by their first names—I don’t care if you’re older than they are, Edward. Alice, please wear something a bit more causal, pet.”

When the house was finally empty, Carlisle pulled Esme backwards into his chest and began massaging her temples. The gesture wasn’t needed, but any touch from her husband was always welcome.

“Do you think they’ll listen?” she asked her husband.

“Not a chance.”

#this bad boy had been swimming around in my head for awhile #please enjoy #my other fics havent been cullen centric enough for me lately #so i had to do something #twilight fic #twilight fan fiction #and thank you to the editing queen edwardsmate4ever for beta'ing for me #youre a queen

[eddiemetalheadmunson]

heeeeey, ya filthy animals. chapter two of The Dying of the Light: Electric Chapel is complete. no warnings for this chapter, things are pretty tame. for now. hehehe.

click here for chapter I, "she wanted storms".

follow me, don't be such a holy fool /

follow me, i need something sacred from you /

together we'll both find a way /

to make a pure love work in a dirty way

electric chapel - lady gaga. listen here for the vibes.

chapter II: electric chapel

The sharp rapping of a fist against the front door jerks Lilith out of a particularly pleasant nap and she groans, rubbing her hands down her face sleepily. It’s dark out already, hence the pitch blackness surrounding her, and she wonders absentmindedly just how long she’s been out. The little house had gotten considerably colder with the breeze coming from the open water and she shivers a bit, grabbing an oversized hoodie from the backpack next to her and yanking it over her head.

With her bones popping in protest, she pushes herself up off of the floor and stumbles ungracefully to flip the porch light on, swinging the front door open. There stands a tiny woman with a rather strict demeanor and a prim expression on her face.

“So sorry to intrude on, well…” the woman glances up at her, no doubt, extremely tangled long red hair, “…whatever it was you were doing, but I was informed of a new resident of the island and thought I’d stop by and introduce myself,” she says curtly, plastering a genial smile on her face that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Lily doesn’t miss the way she looks her up and down with mild distaste. To be fair, she probably does look like shit, but damn, she could at least pretend not to notice.

“Oh…yeah. Yep, that’s me. Um, I’m Lilith Rowan. I’m just here to help sell –”

The woman cuts her off abruptly. “Oh! You’re Frederick’s granddaughter! Yes, yes of course, I remember now. I’m so very sorry for your loss, dear. He was a nice man. Kept to himself, mostly…one of the few on the island who rarely attended mass, in fact,” she says, obviously oblivious to how rude she sounds.

“Oh. Well, church isn’t for everyone, I guess,” Lily shrugs, earning a piercing stare from the woman.

“I suppose not. Anyway, my name is Beverly Keane, I’m somewhat of a coordinator of things here on the island. I meant to greet you when you arrived but you must’ve snuck right past me,” she says, clasping her hands together and cocking her head to the side to study Lily in a way that makes her rather uncomfortable.

“I didn’t realize anyone even knew I was coming, honestly,” Lily chuckles. “I haven’t been here in what feels like forever. It looks like there’s a lot less people living here then what I remember,” she says, momentarily glancing around at the lack of the living surrounding them.

Beverly sighs, joining Lily in surveying the land. “Yes, we’ve had some…unfortunate events transpire over the years, but we march on. Not much else we can do. Most people here are admirably faithful, and we trust that Christ will see us through.”

Lily clenches her jaw and nods with a stiff smile. This lady was pushy as hell about the whole God thing. Great, she thought. I’m going to have her hounding me the entire time I’m here.

“Well, now that you’re here I suppose I’ll leave you to it. We do so hope to see you at the service tomorrow, dear. It would certainly make a good impression on the residents if you attend. An easy way to meet everyone, if nothing else,” she says, pursing her lips confidently and sticking her chin up in a way that makes Lily want to snort with laughter.

“Um, well, I don’t really do the whole “church” thing. Not anymore, at least. But I appreciate the invitation. I’ll…I’ll think about it,” Lily manages to grind out her response and barely suppresses a grin at how taken aback Beverly looks at her statement.

“Well…I suppose that’s the wonderful thing about God. You can choose to be saved at any time in life. Just make sure you do it before – well, I’m sure you know, dear.” She chuckles dryly at her own joke and brushes her dress off, smoothing the wrinkles. Before Lily can formulate an undoubtedly aggressive response to that, a low, gentle voice interrupts them.

“Who’s this, then? Have you been hiding her from us, Bev?”

Lily’s heart skips a beat when her eyes land on a tall, handsome man with a kind face making his way over to the porch. Thick and somewhat curly raven hair sits atop his head and his smile is the kind you can just tell is genuine. His hands are in his pockets, giving him a slightly boyish demeanor that is admittedly quite endearing, and he’s dressed in all dark colors: skinny jeans, a black cardigan and…

A white collar? He’s a priest?!

All at once, Lily realizes she’s basically just staring the poor man down. He grins and nods at her in a friendly greeting. She feels a blush creeping from her cheeks down her neck, but for the first and most likely only time, Beverly’s clipped tone saves her some pain.

“Monsignor! I didn’t expect to see you around this area of the island so late. This is Lilith, she’s here to take care of some real estate on the island for her Great Grandfather.”

Lily’s head snaps to Beverly in barely restrained offense.

“I mean, he’s dead, so…not really doing it for him, per se. Unless you’ve seen his ghost floating around town,” she quips with a raised eyebrow and a tiny smirk. She looks to the priest and doesn’t miss the way he inconspicuously chuckles, but then looks up into her eyes again with gentle concern.

“I’m very sorry for your loss, Lilith. Your Grandfather was a good man. He never had an unkind word to say about anyone, or so I’ve been told by Monsignor Pruitt. You most likely don’t remember him if you’ve been away as long as Frederick had said, but Father Pruitt is currently on the mainland on sick leave I’m afraid, so I’m just here stepping in for him while he’s resting up.”

Lily bites her lip and wracks her brain, trying to place the old man who’d led the church when she was little. A spark of a memory flits across her mind, and she can’t help but crack a smile and shake her head sheepishly at him.

“Oh god…yeah, I remember him. He was exceptionally…patient with me when I was little. I was kind of a holy terror as a kid. I remember one particular prank that may or may not have been my doing. He knew. He totally knew, there’s no way he couldn’t have,” she laughs genuinely now, leaning against the railing of the porch in thought. “He never ratted me out, though. Good guy,” she recalls warmly, hardly believing she’d completely forgotten about him until this moment.

“Yes, well – Lilith has informed me that, unfortunately, we won’t be seeing her at the church in the coming weeks. She doesn’t prefer it. To each their own, I suppose,” she nods at Lily in a gesture that is apparently supposed to be respectful but fails monumentally, and it sends a jolt of fire through Lily’s veins.

“I don’t feel like I need any help finding my moral compass, Ms. Keane. I mean, I could be a real psycho, y’know?” Lily quips. “I try to be as nice I can. I help old ladies across the street. I pay my taxes. Hell, I even recycle sometimes! I can’t have strayed too far from the flock, right?” She crosses her arms and tilts her head to the side to stare resolutely into Beverly’s eyes, which widen a fraction in surprise before she flares her nostrils and clears her throat.

“Well, I suppose the Monsignor and I have introduced ourselves, then. Best get to bed, Father, big day tomorrow. Oh, you probably don’t know, but tomorrow is Ash Wednesday. There’s a rather beloved event that follows the church service, the “Crock Pot Luck”. Welcome to all who worship our Lord and Savior, and…and of course, any newcomers,” she reluctantly informs Lily, nodding her head and turning on her heel to leave. She stops when she realizes the Monsignor isn’t following in her wake.

“Oh, I’d like to talk to our new friend for a moment longer. I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow at service, Bev,” he replies with a kind smile, turning to look at Lily again when Beverly, resigned, huffs and continues her journey home. Lily snorts derisively and watches her depart, shaking her head at the balls on this woman.

“New heathen, more like.”

The Monsignor takes a few steps towards her and shakes his head good-naturedly. “You’re far from being a heathen. Bev is…well, she’s very devout in her faith. Try not to take it personally. None of us are spared of her strict morality lessons,” he laughs gently as he reaches the bottom step of the porch, smiling up at her in a way that warms her from the inside out. “I’m Father Paul. Hill. It’s very nice to meet you, Lilith.”

“Oh, you can just call me Lily. Most people do. I mean, you don’t have to, just throwing it out there, if you’d rather,” she rambles, instantly feeling mortified at how awkward she’s acting.

What the hell? He’s a priest, you fucking moron. Get over yourself.

“Well, Lily. I’m glad you’re here. I wish it was due to different circumstances, but you’re always welcome here in Crockett,” he says softly, reaching out a hand to shake hers. She grins down at him and reaches her hand out to take his, instantly feeling a tickle of electricity through every finger at his warm, comforting touch.

“Thanks, um – shit, I’m sorry, I don’t know really know what the protocol is for this kinda’ thing. Do I call you Father each time I address you? Or, Father Paul? Just Paul? O’ mighty one?” she shyly jokes, rubbing a hand behind her neck in mild embarrassment. He laughs out loud at this, smiling beautifully at her – all white teeth and sparkling brown eyes, and she’s taken aback at just how ridiculously attractive he is. She wonders if he even realizes.

“Call me whatever you feel comfortable with. Most just call me Father Paul, Father Hill, etcetera. Nothing too fancy,” he offers, crossing his arms and titling his head a bit to study her in a way that makes her feel like she’s being x-rayed, but not unpleasantly so. She blushes at the thought of calling him “Father”. She’d never addressed anyone as “Father” in her entire life. It always seemed like such a stiff, overly formal title for her own Dad, or anyone for that matter. But calling him Father? It feels rather…personal, almost bordering on intimacy, and she isn’t entirely sure why it makes her flush as she thinks about it. These thoughts are enough to rattle her nerves, but she mentally shakes herself off and pulls it together.

“Gotcha’. Right. Well, Father Paul,” she says in an overly dramatic manner, punctuated by a flamboyant, tiny bow, “It’s nice to meet you, too. Thanks for not shunning me off of your island.”

His eyebrows raise in amusement at her response, and she quickly finds it hard to maintain eye contact. She suddenly becomes very invested in the grain direction of the floorboards beneath her feet. She clears her throat and bounces on her feet a bit, trying to ease her own self-induced embarrassment.

Ugh. Why do I have to act like a five-year old boy every time I talk to a man?

“I’d invite you in for coffee and a chat but there’s no furniture. Like, literally none,” she says, changing the subject and laughing lightly. His brows pinch together at this, and he leans his head to the side to peer into the barren little house behind her.

“You don’t have anywhere to sleep, then?”

“I do! No, I do. It’s just not “company” ready is all I meant. I didn’t – I couldn’t face any personal items if I was going to sell the house,” she manages to stutter out, suddenly feeling rather childish by how flighty and unprepared she must seem.

“You do know there’s a fairly large storm coming, right? Sometime this week. You’re rather close to the shoreline, if not the closest on the island. I feel…deeply uncomfortable with you staying here during the thick of it,” his voice falls into a murmur as if he’s thinking out loud, studying the distance between the shoreline and the house. Genuine concern etches itself across his facial features while he rakes a hand through his unruly hair in deliberation. It causes her heart stutter like a fucking school girl, and she studies his face as he’s looking elsewhere. Dark brown eyes canopied by thick lashes, pretty white teeth, a constant expression of kindness, and damn, those lips…

Dude. He’s a PRIEST, she hisses at herself internally before that thought can evolve. He’s probably this nice to everyone. That’s literally in his job description. You’re not special.

She laughs lightly in attempt to ease the tension coiling inside of her, watching her hot breath swirl into smoky looking tendrils amongst the chilly air. “Seriously, Father, it’s – I’ll be fine. I love storms, actually. They stay awake and, well, keep watch over me while I’m sleeping. We’re on pretty good terms with each other,” she says, trying to ease his worries. His deep, dark eyes land on her face, scanning her from her neck to her lips to her freckled nose and finally, to her green eyes. His facial expression tells her he remains unconvinced.

“It’s apparently going to be a pretty bad one. We’ll all lose power most likely, they say that’s pretty much a given. Are you sure I can’t convince you to stay somewhere else?”

She couldn’t hold back a bashful smile at his insistence. “I don’t even know anyone here to stay with, and I’d really rather not inconvenience anyone. It would be kinda’ awkward,” she says, chuckling lightly and absentmindedly playing with a piece of her hair out of habit. He gently scoffs as if she’s said the silliest thing in the world, his expression full of sincerity that has her cheeks growing warm again.

You have got to get your shit together, woman.

“Well, you’re more than welcome to stay at Monsignor Pruitt’s house. It’s where I’m staying, myself, until he starts feeling better. It isn’t my home so technically we’d both be guests, not just yourself, and there’s a perfectly good bedroom with no occupant.”

Lily’s eyes widen in surprise and she studies his face, wondering if perhaps he’s joking. “Are – you’re serious? You just met me. I could be a murderer for all you know.”

He smiles up at her and chuckles, shaking his head. “Yes, I can see you’re very dangerous. A – holy terror, I believe it was? – but I’ll lean on faith that you won’t throttle me in my sleep.”

She bites her lip in an attempt to hide the giant, dorky smile trying to form on her lips. “Hey, I am dangerous, thank you very much. I like you though, so you’re in the clear. I’ll let you live. Out of the goodness of my heart,” she says as she places a hand across her chest above her heart, failing monumentally at suppressing said dorky smile.

His raises an eyebrow in amusement and mild surprise, his expression one of curiosity and something else she can’t quite put her finger on. She internally kicks herself and feels her face flush, hoping he didn’t read into her statement the wrong way. Growing up with so many male friends had done her a disservice in that way, as sometimes she would say things that could be considered not entirely platonic because she was so comfortable being herself around them. It made for a few awkward situations where someone would start having feelings for her, thinking she felt the same, and the friendship was just never the same after she set the record straight with them.

“Well, I must say, I’m quite flattered, Miss Rowan. Or is it Mrs. Rowan? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to assume.”

She snorts inelegantly, shaking her head and crossing her arms. “Ha! No, your assumption is quite correct.”

Something flashes within his eyes as he nods, lightly exhaling in a way that could almost, almost pass as…mild relief? No, that wouldn’t make any sense. She scolds herself again, wondering what it was about this skinny priest with kind eyes and a warm voice, and really nice hair, the kind you can run your fingers through…or tug on…

She snaps back to reality and when she does, she realizes he’s been staring at her. Studying her. “Just think about it at least? No pressure either way, of course. If you’d feel better giving something in return for my hospitality, coming to tomorrow’s service would be more than enough,” he says, crossing his arms and looking off into the distance, feigning indifference at her answer.

She laughs, really laughs at this, recognizing that he’s teasing her. He joins in on the laughter and faces her again, his eyes lightly drifting across her form before snapping back up to meet her eyes. She pushes herself off of the porch rail and shoves her hands in the back pockets of her jeans, rocking on her feet a bit in thought.

“I guess that would be the neighborly thing to do, wouldn’t it? I’ll…um – I’ll consider it.”

He claps his hands together, giving her a sweet smile that has her insides buzzing like a hive of bees and takes a few steps back. “Good! I really hope to see you there, then. It would make the day all the more special. I’ll get out of your hair now, I’m sure you’re still trying to get settled in,” he says, backing up a few more paces to take his leave.

“Yeah…yeah, you too. I’ll be seeing you around,” she replies and returns the smile, trying not to react to his previous comment about her presence at the service being special, but manages to make an ass out of herself all the same by her stiff reply. He smiles and departs, lifting a hand to say goodbye and Lily does the same. She quickly scurries back inside the house, closing the door a little too loudly, and slumps back against it once she’s in. Her stomach is still doing little flips from their conversation and her head feels fuzzy. She hadn’t felt this instant of a connection with anyone in…well, ever, if she’s being honest with herself. But this connection was between her and quite possibly the most unattainable person she could think of.

Well, fuck.

#midnight mass #father paul #father paul hill x ofc #father paul x ofc #father paul hill #father john pruitt #midnight mass fanfic #the dying of the light #midnight mass fanfiction #ofc #Lilith Rowan #ofc: lilith rowan #riley flynn #sarah gunning #erin greene #leeza scarborough #joe callie #sheriff hassan #pike

[bechloeislegit]

BeChloe Week 2021 - Day 4

Near-Death Experience

"Beca, you left your door unlocked again," Stacie called out as she entered Beca's house. There was no response. "Beca? Are you here?"

Stacie furrowed her brows as she looked around. She saw Beca's keys and phone on the small table by the door. Her laptop bag was sitting on the floor next to the table.

"Beca!?" Stacie called louder. "Answer me, dammit!"

Stacie was worried now and started looking for Beca. She made her way toward the kitchen, calling out for Beca as she went.

"Oh, my God!" Stacie screamed, seeing Beca's lifeless body laying on the floor.

She quickly ran over to Beca and fell to her knees, pulling Beca to her. As the tears fell, she pulled out her phone and dialed 9-1-1.

"9-1-1, what's your emergency?"

"I need an ambulance," Stacie said into the phone. "My friend is unconscious. I just found her laying on her kitchen floor."

"What's the address?"

"1854 Loma Vista Drive in Beverly Hills," Stacie said. "Please tell the ambulance to hurry!"

"I promise you, they are on their way," the 9-1-1 operator said. "I need you to stay on the phone while I get some more information. Are you able to do that?"

"Yes," Stacie said.

"Great, now is your friend breathing?"

"I, um, I don't know," Stacie cried. "I think so. I'm so scared. Please hurry."

"What's your name?"

"Stacie."

"I'm Carla," the 9-1-1 operator said. "You're doing great, Stacie. Can you tell me if the door is unlocked so the EMTs can enter? If it is, do they have your permission to enter the premises once they arrive?"

"Yes," Stacie said. "The door is unlocked. They have permission to enter."

"Thank you for that, Stacie. Now, can you tell me if you see any injuries or bleeding?"

"She has a bump on her forehead," Stacie said. "I don't see any blood anywhere."

"EMTs! We're coming in," a voice yelled from the front door. "Call out so we can find you."

"In the kitchen," Stacie yelled out. She lowered her voice and said into the phone, "The EMTs are here."

"Okay," the 9-1-1 operator said. "I'm going to hang up now."

"Thank you, Carla," Stacie said, ending the call and placing her phone down on the floor next to her.

Two EMTs came hurrying into the kitchen. The first took Beca from Stacie's arms and gently laid her on her back. The other was setting up equipment.

"Can you tell us what happened?" he asked, looking to Stacie.

"I, um, I don't know," Stacie stammered. "I came in and found her like this."

Stacie wiped at the tears that continued to fall down her cheeks.

The EMTs began to work on Beca. They ripped open her shirt and put the electrodes on her chest and turned on the EKG. The machine made two beeping noises and then a constant hum emanated from the machine.

"Where's that beeping coming from?" Beca thought. "It's getting dark. I can't see any-"

"She's flatlining," the first EMT called out.

"BECA!" Stacie screamed.

"Clear!" the EMT called out as he pressed the button on the defibrillator. "No response. Charging again."

Stacie scrabbled back until her back hit the cabinet. Tears continued to stream down her face as she watched the EMTs trying to bring Beca back.

"Come on, Beca," Stacie mumbled. "Fight."

"Come on, Beca. Come see your new baby brother."

"Daddy's not coming back, baby."

"DJing is not a career, Beca. It's a hobby."

"Can you help us make our dream a reality?"

"We're going to be fast friends."

"Clear!" the EMT called out as he pressed the button on the defibrillator.

Beca's body jerked up slightly and limply fell back down to the floor.

"Still no response," the second EMT called out. "Charging."

"No, no, no, no," Stacie chanted as if in a trance. Her eyes never left Beca's body.

"Clear!" the EMT called out as he pressed the button on the defibrillator a third time.

"My heart hurts almost as much as it did when I saw Chloe kissing that soldier guy."

"I wonder if Chloe thinks about me?"

"What's that beeping sound?"

"Chloe! Chloe! Where are you?"

"I love you, Chloe! Come back!"

Beca's body jerked up and fell back down to the floor again, only this time she gasped and sucked air into her lungs.

"She's back!" the EMT called out, causing Stacie to look up at him. "Let's get her on the gurney."

The two EMTs picked Beca up and gently placed her on the gurney, strapping her down.

"Thank God," Stacie mumbled as she wiped her tears.

Beca started to come around as they wheeled her out of the kitchen. The EMT looked down at her.

"Welcome back, Miss Mitchell."

"Chloe?"

~~ Bechloe Week 2021 - Day 4 ~~

"I swear she actually died, Brey," Stacie said, laying her head on Aubrey's shoulder. "They had to shock her three times before she came back."

"Is she okay now?" Aubrey asked.

"I think so; we won't know anything until they finish running tests," Stacie said. "She was talking when they were taking her out of the ambulance. It was hard to understand what she was saying. But, her voice was clear when she kept calling out for Chloe."

"Really?" Aubrey said. "Chloe's going to freak when she hears that."

Stacie softly chuckled. "Those two knuckleheads need to stop pretending there's nothing between them. I swear they might actually be together if Chloe hadn't kissed that soldier after Beca's performance."

"That was a one-and-done for Chloe," Aubrey said. "She told me she was so excited after Beca's performance that she would have jumped the janitor's bones if she had seen him first."

"You mean she was horny after Beca's performance," Stacie said, laughing now.

"Most definitely," Aubrey said, laughing as well.

"Too bad she didn't jump Beca's bones," Stacie said, sobering quickly. "Things would have been so much easier for Beca if she had."

Aubre's laughter stopped as she asked, "Do you think we should call Chloe and tell her about Beca?"

"Let's wait until we know what's going on with Beca first," Stacie said.

"Do you think she'll come out here?"

"I don't know," Stacie said, sighing. "I hope she'll want to. Maybe knowing how close we came to losing Beca will cause Chloe to admit her real feelings to Beca."

~~ Bechloe Week 2021 - Day 4 ~~

"What happened?" a doctor asked as he stepped over to Beca's bed in the emergency room.

"We don't know," a nurse explained. "Her friend found her unconscious on her kitchen floor. There is a burn on her left hand and a bump on her forehead; those are the only injuries we can find."

Beca's heart monitor started beeping loudly and the doctor looked over to see.

"Her heartbeat is irregular," the doctor said. He picked up Beca's left hand and examined the burn there. "The burn must be from an electric shock of some kind. Page Dr. Pierce for a consult."

"Yes, doctor," the nurse said and did as instructed.

"I'm glad I met you," Chloe said, pulling Beca closer to her. "I think we're going to be fast friends."

"Go back, Beca," a voice called out. "You don't belong here. It's not your time."

"Who's there?" Beca cried out.

"My little badass," the voice said, chuckling. "It's only been five years, I can't believe you've forgotten me already."

"Gramps? What are you doing here? What's happening to me?"

"Your microwave had a short in it," Gramps said. "You got quite the shock when you touched it. Your heart stopped and they're trying to-"

"Clear," the doctor called out before pressing the button on the defibrillator.

Beca's body jerked and the heart monitor started beeping with a normal rhythm.

~~ Bechloe Week 2021 - Day 4 ~~

"Beca Mitchell?" a doctor called out to the waiting room.

Stacie and Aubrey jumped up and hurried over to the doctor.

"I'm Stacie Conrad," Stacie said. "I'm Beca's emergency contact. Is she okay?"

"I'm Dr. Malone," the doctor said. "Miss Mitchell is going to be fine."

"Oh, thank God," Aubrey whispered. "Do you know what happened?"

"She told us that all she remembers is her microwave made a weird popping sound and when she reached out to open the door, she felt a shock and then nothing until she woke up with an EMT standing over her," Dr. Malone said. "We believe the microwave gave her an electrical shock that interrupted her heartbeat. The EMTs were able to get her back. It happened again while we were examining her and again we were able to bring her back. She is one tough lady. We want to keep her overnight and run some tests. She's being put into a room and you should be able to see her shortly."

"Thank you, Dr. Malone," Stacie said.

"You're welcome," Dr. Malone said and walked away.

"I'm so relie-" Stacie started to say but was interrupted by Aubrey's phone ringing.

"It's Chloe," Aubrey said, checking her caller ID before answering. "Hey, Chloe, I was just about to call you."

"You'll never guess where I am?" Chloe said.

"I have no idea," Aubrey said. "I need to tell you something. Are you alone?"

"Um, not really," Chloe said. "I'm in a taxi right now on my way to Beca's."

"You're here?" Aubrey squealed. "Listen, don't go to Beca's. She's not home. That's why I was going to call. She's in the hospital."

"What?!" Chloe yelled, causing the cab driver to swerve slightly. "What hospital? What happened?"

"The L.A. Medical Center," Aubrey said. "I'll fill you in when you get here."

"I'm on my way," Chloe said, ending the call. "Driver, there's been a change of plans. I need to get to the L.A. Medical Center."

"Yes, ma'am," the cab driver said and turned onto a different street.

~~ Bechloe Week 2021 - Day 4 ~~

"Chloe's in L.A. and on her way here," Aubrey told Stacie.

"What is she doing in L.A.?" Stacie asked.

"I don't know," Aubrey said. "She called to tell me she was in a cab on her way to Beca's."

"Excuse me, Miss Conrad," a nurse interrupted. "Dr. Malone asked me to tell you when Miss Mitchell was in her room. She's in room 3027 and you can go see her whenever you're ready."

"Thank you," Stacie said and turned to Aubrey. "Babe, I'm going up to Beca's room. You wait here for Chloe and bring her up, okay?"

"Okay," Aubrey said.

Stacie hurried to Beca's room and walked in.

"Stacie!" Beca called out chuckling. "The nurse told me my sister found me and called for the ambulance. I thought maybe the shock was worse than I was told because I didn't remember having a sister."

"You know the Bellas all think of each other like sisters," Stacie said. "So, the nurse wasn't entirely wrong."

"True," Beca said, smiling. "Thanks for saving me."

"I didn't," Stacie said. "The EMTs did. I just sat there crying and begging you to fight."

~~ Bechloe Week 2021 - Day 4 ~~

"Brey, where is she?" Chloe asked as soon as she saw Aubrey. "How is she?"

"She's going to be fine," Aubrey said. "Stacie's with her right now. Come on, I'll take you to her."

"Thank God!" Chloe whispered.

"I didn't get a chance to ask you what you were doing here," Aubrey said as they entered the elevator.

"I came to talk to Beca face-to-face. To, um, tell her that-," Chloe stammered.

"You finally sacked and decided to tell her that you're in love with her?"

"Um, yeah," Chloe said, staring down at the floor.

"It's about time," Aubrey said as the elevator dinged indicating they had reached the third floor.

Aubrey stepped off the elevator first and Chloe grabbed her arm.

"Brey, wait," Chloe said. "Do you think I should tell her now? I mean, you said her heart stopped. It wouldn't be too much for her, would it? I mean, if I tell her?"

"Listen to me, Chloe Beale," Aubrey said. "The Bellas have waited almost eight years for this, so yes, you should tell her now."

Chloe was slightly taken aback as Aubrey turned and walked away. Chloe pulled her suitcase along and hurried to catch up to Aubrey.

"Hey, Beca," Aubrey called out as she entered Beca's room. "I have a surprise for you."

"A surprise?"

"Yeah."

"What is it?"

"Surprise!" Chloe said, entering the room.

Chloe left her luggage by the door and rushed over to Beca.

"Chloe! What are you doing here?"

Chloe bent down and hugged Beca. She pulled back and sat on the edge of the bed.

"What? Can't a girl visit her two best friends for no reason?"

"I'm so glad you're here," Beca said, reaching to hug Chloe again.

"Me, too," Chloe said. "Although I wasn't expecting to have to come to the hospital to see you."

Aubrey and Stacie stood side-by-side, eagerly watching Beca and Chloe.

"I have something I want to tell you," Beca and Chloe said simultaneously.

"You, go first," they said at the same time.

"No, you go first," they both said and then laughed.

"Chloe, why don't you go first?" Aubrey suggested. "Otherwise we could be here all night while you two go back and forth like this."

Beca looked at Chloe and said, "Go ahead, Chlo."

"Um, okay," Chloe said, tucking some stray hairs behind her ear. "I came here to tell you that I, um, I'm-. Ugh, why is this so hard?"

"Do you want me to go first?" Beca asked, gently taking Chloe's hand.

Chloe nodded and looked at Beca.

"Okay, so, first what they say is true," Beca said. "When you have a near-death experience your life literally does flash before your eyes. Mine did. And, you were a large part of the memories that flashed before me."

Chloe smiled as Beca continued.

"It made me realize that life is short," Beca said. "And we don't know when our time will be up. So, you need to let the people you care about know it. What I'm trying to say is-. Um, I'm in love with you, Chloe. And, honestly, I have been for a while. There, that's what I wanted to tell you."

Tears came to Chloe's eyes as she continued to stare at Beca.

"It's about time," Stacie mumbled.

"Wait," Aubrey whispered. "It's going to get better."

"Way to steal my thunder, Mitchell," Chloe choked out.

"What?"

"I came to L.A. to tell you the same thing," Chloe said, chuckling at the shocked look on Beca's face.

"Seriously?" Beca asked.

"Seriously," Choe said, putting a hand on Beca's cheek. "I love you, Beca."

Beca and Chloe stared into each other's eyes for a moment before leaning in and locking lips.

Suddenly, Beca's heart monitor started beeping loudly; Chloe pulled back from Beca in alarm.

A nurse rushed in. She looked at Beca and then checked the heart monitor.

"Is everything okay?" the nurse asked Beca. "Your monitor shows an increase in your heart rate. Did something happen to cause you to stress?"

Beca blushed and Chloe giggled.

"Just the love of her life telling her she loves her," Stacie said, smiling at the nurse. "And sealing it with a kiss."

"Oh," the nurse said, chuckling. "That would do it. Congratulations to you both."

"Thanks," Chloe said.

The nurse reset the heart monitor and turned to leave. She stopped at the door and looked back at Chloe.

"Let's try not to overstimulate the patient, m'kay?" the nurse said.

Beca blushed more and Chloe giggled again.

"That's easier said than done with these two," Aubrey said.

~~ Bechloe Week 2021 - Day 4 ~~

Two weeks later, Beca and Chloe were cuddling on Beca's sofa. Chloe had her head on Beca's chest with her arms wrapped around Beca's waist; Beca had her arm wrapped around Chloe's shoulders.

Beca leaned down and kissed the back of Chloe's head, causing Chloe's hold on her to tighten. Both sighed in contentment.

"I can't believe how much I love listening to the sound of your heart beating," Chloe whispered.

"I can't believe I'm twenty-six and just now found out I have an irregular heartbeat," Beca said. "I feel extremely lucky that I don't need a pacemaker. Well, not yet anyway."

"And I can't believe you actually asked me to move in with you," Chloe said.

"And I can't believe you agreed so quickly," Beca said chuckling. "I love you, Chloe, and I plan on spending the rest of our lives together, showing you how much."

"Is that a proposal?" Chloe asked, raising her head to look up at Beca. "Because I'd definitely say yes if it is."

"No, not a proposal," Beca said. "Not yet anyway."

"I'll hold you to that," Chloe said, leaning up to kiss Beca. She pulled back with a smile, saying, "God, I love being able to do that."

"Same, babe," Beca said, leaning down to reconnect their lips.

#bechloe week 2021 #beca mitchell #chloe beale #bechloe fluff #bechloeislegit #bechloe

[agent-troi]

Picard season 2 episode 1 “The Star Gazer”

Why did the Borg Queen call him Picard and not Locutus? The random ex-Borg in the Artifact called him Locutus, but the Borg Queen is on last-name terms with him? I wonder did they’ll explain that somehow or if it was just a writing goof

Ok this is a really upbeat song and I kind of like it, it gives me hope this season will be less dystopian

Wtf was that look between Picard and Laris

I’d ask where Zhaban is but I was spoiled for that and it fucking sucks

Wait they were promised to each other at birth?? I guess they’re just ignoring the comics then because they were assigned to a planet by the Tal Shiar and they first met there, and then they fell in love and decided to leave and Picard helped them escape during the Romulan evacuation

Ok I think I see what they’re doing: they’re making their marriage sound like something that wasn’t exactly what she wanted or at least they weren’t soulmates because they’re setting up Picard/Laris for some fucking insane reason

Yeah that’s what they’re doing

God I really don’t like this

Omigod Laris stop

Where the fuck is Beverly when you need her

She needs to cockblock this like with Vash

PICARD NO

Oh thank god

Oooooh flashback time

Is that his mother?

Why is all the glass broken in the present

Wait was his father abusive to his mother?! How is this the first time they’re mentioning a major backstory component like that

What happened to half the lights in Spain

Oooh green space anomaly

Lol Laris knows where things are in Picard’s library better than he does

Nooo don’t talk about last night that was gross

“I’m too old for awkward” total mood tbh

Yay starfleet academy time

Raffi!

Cadet Elnor!!

The applause sounds polite but lackluster to me but idk

“I stand before you today the last Picard” WELL NOT IN THE BOOKS WHICH WERE COMPLETELY ANNIHILATED FOR THIS SEMI-DYSTOPIAN SHOW

Seven!

Why the hell doesn’t she tie her hair back, I mean it looks great but it’s not very efficient or frankly safe in hand to hand combat

I love how they’re just casually carrying on a conversation in two different languages

She merged the holos? Interesting but I kind of miss them

Green space anomaly!

Soji!

Wait why did they think that was funny? Does “the heart has spoken” translate to something funny in their language?

Jurati!

Wait so whatever happened with Jurati and the fact that she killed Maddox? Was there a formal investigation or trial? And is she still with Rios?

“You’re flirting, right?” Lmao total mood

Oh ok they cleared her

I guess she and Rios broke up

Oooh Soji’s necklace is now a pin

Rios!

“Some kind of subspace anomaly” Jesus starfleet really needs to expand its vocabulary

Wait Mark Twain couldn’t have a cigar in TNG but Rios is allowed to have one in the 25th century?

I like this bridge layout tbh

Stargazer!

Tbh I thought the hand holding thing between raffi and seven at the end of season one seemed random and a little forced, and it doesn’t surprise me that they’re having relationship problems

Elnor is going to the Excelsior!

Wait it’s only been two years at most, how has he already gotten a starship posting? Unless it’s just a temporary training exercise or they’re doing cadet work studies in earlier years now

Aww Raffi in mom mode

Aww the old Stargazer

I love how we’re back to investigating space anomalies instead of moping around on earth

Lol Agnes

Oooh personalized distress signal

Guinan!

“You’ll always be Captain to me”🥺

Wait can El-Aurians actually control their aging process? Because that’s really fucking cool

How the fuck is neither of them mentioning Beverly in this conversation

Also WHERE IS BEVERLY

“I suggest that we drink” wise suggestion Guinan

Lol they copypasted an entire section of the Federation charter

Bye bye Laris, somehow I doubt you’ll get a postcard

If they fear the Borg so much why did they build a new ship based on their technology?

“I think you look absolutely positronic” lmao

Tbh I think it would’ve been in character for him to start saying “of the Federation starship—” and then cut himself off sheepishly because he’s forgotten that he’s not in charge and being on a starship again has reawakened his muscle memory

I don’t think that cigar is even lit lol, I guess he just likes to chew on it

Why the fuck is a Borg ship shaped like that

How were the Borg decimated? Was it just what happened in Endgame or did more stuff happened between then and now? It was just one transwarp hub so I don’t think that would be enough

That… doesn’t look like a Borg

See, that’s why you don’t incorporate Borg modifications into your ships

That sounds like a major security risk to be able to access the command codes for the entire fleet from one ship

Is that sing in his head or is it really playing? Because it sounds a little too upbeat for the situation

Did they really just blow up the ship?

Oh there’s the alternate timeline

Ooh he’s got an android servant

Q!

“21st century Earth is so tense” yes yes it is which is why I don’t like it when Star Trek goes back there, it’s bad enough I have to live in it

Well I liked the end of this episode and I’m looking forward to finding out how time was broken but I guess I’m still too sour over the demise of the novelverse to completely enjoy this

#star trek #star trek picard spoilers #picard spoilers #picardneedsbev

[loverboytrashmouth]

Wish You Were Sober

pairing; Reddie

word count; 4k

summary; Eddie is tired of Richie flirting like a madman whenever he gets alcohol in his system.

a/n; so i decided i’m making a kind of series of reddie fics i write based on songs, bc i’m the type of bitch that listens to any music or intakes any kind of media and thinks “iMagiNe tHiS bUt rEdDiE<333″ so ya there’s that lol. here’s a lil angsty one shot based on wish you were sober by conan gray, aka a superior song if u ask me. as always, read on ao3 here if you’d like and enjoy ! :)

Nirvana blared through the speakers and traveled throughout the too small apartment owned by some random guy in one of Richie’s classes. Richie didn’t know him too well - he thinks his name is Chris? Collin? Something with a ‘C’ - but, hey, a party’s a party, and free booze is free booze.

The trashmouth was chatting loudly over the music with Bill on a dingy leather couch, waiting for Stan and Eddie to return with more drinks. Richie was already significantly further along than his friends in terms of his drunken state, all obnoxious laughs interrupted by hiccups and long, gangly limbs flailing more wildly than usual. It almost should be concerning to the other Losers, having only been at the party for less than a couple hours and their friend already being long gone, but it was what they were used to. Since they were 15 and stealing liquor from their parents, the Losers constantly saw Richie’s “go big or go home” attitude with drinking. They assumed it was just Richie wanting to be the life of the party and center of attention, whether that meant going shot for shot with Mike, accepting any type of drinking related dare from Beverly, etc.

Richie let them believe this, because it was better than telling them the truth. It was easier than admitting to them that around the same time he started sneaking a copious amount of vodka from the Tozier’s alcohol stash, he was also realizing certain feelings he had for a certain Loser.

Richie Tozier loved Eddie Kaspbrak. Richie was sure it was just one of those basic laws of the universe, one that’s impossible to ignore and inevitable to come to pass. Despite this, living in a small town like Derry meant getting the shit kicked out of you if you even look at another guy for too long, soulmates or inescapable love or whatever be damned. Richie had gotten beatdowns left and right from neighborhood bullies for being a “faggot” before he even knew what the word meant, so he, unfortunately, knew this from personal experience.

But now, sitting in an apartment in Manhattan of all places, attending NYU with three out of six of his best friends, away from those assholes in Derry, Richie thought he’d loosen up. Let himself be brave.

He soon learned that was easier said than done; who knew what 19 years of internalized homophobia could do to a man?

It’s not like he was afraid of being more of an outcast; he was already a loser with a capital “L,” and he, along with the rest of his friends, carried the title like it was given to them by the Queen herself. Deep down Richie knew the rest of the Losers wouldn’t even bat an eye at the fact that he liked dudes the way he should have liked girls, so he wasn’t afraid of losing them either. And deep, deep down, Richie also knew there wasn’t really anything wrong with him. Why would he feel such a way if it was supposed to be such an unnatural and vile thing? He couldn’t help who he was, who or how he loved, and God, he loved Eddie so much he thought he could just burst with it sometimes.

That shred of acceptance, though, was buried so deep in his lanky form, and the only way to reach it was through a ridiculous amount of shots. Or beers. Or just about anything with a decent alcohol content, really. He’d even settle with wine if he had to.

When Richie was drunk, he was able to be more clingy and face less consequences. He was already an affectionate guy, constantly pinching Eddie’s cheeks and throwing a lazy arm around the shorter man’s shoulders whenever he could. With alcohol, though, he’d give sloppy cheek kisses and intertwine his fingers with Eddie’s and allow his face to form a subtle blush when an intoxicated Eddie would lean into it.

“Sorry for being all over ya last night, Eds. You know how gross and clingy I can get,” he’d say the following morning, and then they’d fall back into their rhythm of bickering and ‘your mom’ jokes. Business as usual, like clockwork every time they’d get wasted.

Richie thought it was going well, that his feelings were going totally unnoticed, that he was stealth. Until this particular college party, that is.

Richie’s attention left his conversation with Bill about the newest Die Hard film when he felt the couch sink next to him, turning to meet eyes with a mildly tipsy Eddie. The taller man’s face immediately lit up, a goofy smile spreading across his chapped lips.

“Hiya, Spagheds! What’s cookin, good lookin’?” Richie slurred out, his arm finding its way around Eddie’s waist and using his other hand to snatch the mixed drink his friend was holding out for him. Eddie responded with his usual scoff and eyeroll, but Richie noted an extra bite to it that he wasn’t used to getting from him.

“Don’t call me that, asshole! And haven’t you ever heard of personal space?” Eddie grumbled, wiggling himself out of Richie’s side embrace and putting some distance between the two. The arm that was once around Eddie made its way to Richie’s own body as he dramatically grasped at his chest.

“Eddie, baby, you’ve wounded me! Since when do you pass up some signature Tozier cuddles?” Richie was met with a simple huff in response as Eddie avoided his gaze. Richie’s eyebrows furrowed together in confusion at the lack of attention he was receiving from the man who would usually be giving him the most attention, but he was overall too drunk to overthink. With a shrug, Richie downed his freshly made drink in record timing before crunching the plastic cup in his hand and tossing it over his shoulder, causing Eddie to scoff again from next to him. Stan spoke up from beside Bill before Eddie could ream his friend about his lack of care for tidiness.

“Maybe you should start on some water, huh, Rich?” Richie gasped dramatically, turning to look at Stan as if he had just told him pigs fly.

“Staniel, did you just ask moi to drink water? What’s the point of free booze if you’re not gonna take advantage?” He asked incredulously before standing, wobbling on his long limbs for a couple seconds and giggling a bit before regaining his balance. “Speaking of, I’m gonna go see if my boy Chris has any good brewskis lyin’ around.”

“Isn’t his name C-C-Connor?” Bill asked, shaking his head in amusement. He seemed to be the only one enjoying the trashmouth’s antics this evening, as Stan’s eyebrows were furrowed in concern which he tried to pass off as annoyance, and Eddie still kept his gaze elsewhere. It was the latter that made Richie itch for another drink.

“Whatever the fuck, Billiam. I’ll be back in a jiff, my loves! Try not to miss me too much!” Richie exclaimed with a bow, breaking out his British accent for his next sentence. “But if I find m’lady Mary Jane, don’t wait up, lads! Pip pip!”

Before Richie could step five feet from the couch, an aggressive hand was yanking him back by the wrist. Losing his footing due to the intrusion, Richie stumbled once more, nearly toppling onto Eddie. The shorter man’s tight grip on his arm was the only thing that kept him from sending them both back onto the scratchy leather of the couch below. Richie beamed at the attention he was finally receiving, despite the glare Eddie was boring deep into his features.

“Sit the fuck down, Richard. You’re not drinking anymore fucking beer and you’re definitely not smoking anything. You’re drinking some water and I’m taking you the fuck back to your room, asswipe,” Eddie said sternly, getting as close as he could to Richie’s face with the height difference between them. Richie couldn’t help but love when Eddie got like this; sure, he was red in the face more with anger than with the alcohol, but the anger was backed by mountains of concern. It reminded Richie how much his love cared about him, even though he was sure their forms of love differed. There was still some kind of love there, and sometimes, that was enough for him.

Although Richie felt his chest swell and he wanted nothing more than to ease Eddie’s anger and please him, his mouth rambled before his brain could tell it what to say, as usual.

“If you wanted to get me alone, Eds, all ya had to do was ask,” Richie slurred with a wink, slowly bringing his hand up Eddie’s arm, his calloused fingertips slightly teasing the warm skin. Eddie’s face flushed an even deeper shade of red, from anger or something else, no one was sure - until Richie’s hand was being swatted away, the smack of it loud enough for Bill and Stan to hear over the music from their spot on the couch. Richie mumbled a curse under his breath as he rubbed the skin Eddie came in contact with, a sting lingering there. He opened his mouth to speak again, some kind of excuse or apology on the tip of his tongue, but never got it out due to Eddie’s voice cutting him off.

“Stop doing this, Richie! Just stop! I’m tired of it!” Eddie's voice was slowly rising, and the tremble that laced within his words acted as some kind of magical potion; suddenly Richie had never been so sober. 

“Hey, Eddie, it’s okay. I’m sorry, whatever I did I’m sor-” The apology was interrupted with another signature scoff as Eddie looked at the ground, shaking his head, breathing out a humorless chuckle.

“You don’t even know what you’re doing,” he said with a frustrated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking Richie in his eyes once again. Despite the apartment being dark with the exception of a couple of lamps scattered around the area, Richie could see the glistening threat of tears waiting to spill from the doe eyes he loved so much. His heart ached.

“Of course you don’t know what you’re doing, Rich, because you’re too fucking drunk! You’re always too drunk. I just… I just wish you were sober for fucking once!” Eddie practically screamed, before his voice softened with hurt again. “I just wish you’d act like this with me without fucking booze.” There were a couple beats of silence between them, two pairs of dark eyes swimming with gallons of emotions simply blinking at one another, the only noise coming from Eddie’s sniffling. Richie did all in his power to search for a response, but for once in his life, the trashmouth was at a loss for words. After what felt like forever, Eddie finally ended the moment by turning on his heel and making a beeline for the door, leaving Richie to stand in dumbfounded silence while his intoxicated brain processed the scene that just unfolded. His thought process was interrupted by a voice coming from the couch.

“Wha-what just happened?” Bill asked, his amusement from earlier in the night completely dissipated and replaced with a mix of confusion and concern.

“Richie’s oblivious and a dumbass is what just happened. Nothing new,” Stan deadpanned from next to him. Richie snapped his body towards the pair, making his head spin and reminding him of just how drunk he was. He blinked at the two in an attempt to adjust his sight before raising his hands in defense at Stan’s comment.

“What are you talking about? Do you know what that was about?” Richie asked, pointing towards the direction Eddie stormed off in. Stan rolled his eyes before standing up and grabbing Richie by the shoulders with both hands, giving him a serious look.

“When we went to get drinks, Eddie talked to me. About you. About how you act when you’re drunk, all over him and shit, more than usual. And how much he likes it, but he hates that he likes it, because you only do it when you’re drunk.” Richie continued to gape at his friend, clearly not connecting what Stan’s words meant. Stan sighed, scrunching his face in annoyance and gripping Richie’s shoulders tighter. “He’s in love with you, asshole! Either tell him you love him too, because trust me, everyone except him knows you do, or stop leading him on. It’s fucking ruining him, man!”

Realization finally hit Richie, his eyes welling with tears as Stan’s grip on his shoulders softened. “He- He is? Are you sure? This- This isn’t funny, Stanley. A-Are you sure?” he breathed out, and if it wasn’t for the weight of the situation, he’d made a joke about how he was sounding like Bill, nervous stutter and all. Stan gave a slight nod and responded, but Richie didn’t hear what he said. His mind was suddenly racing; find Eddie. tell Eddie. kiss Eddie. EddieEddieEddie.

Before he knew it his feet were running just as fast as his thoughts, not 100% sure where he was going, just knowing he needed to find Eddie. Richie raced out of the apartment building into the chilly air that was New York City on a late November night, frantically scanning the streets. His eyes soon locked on a figure about half a block down, leaning against a mailbox, head in his hands. Even with the distance between them, Richie could tell he was trembling, either from the cold or from crying, he wasn’t sure. As he felt the sharp breeze across his skin exposed by the rips in his jeans, he assumed probably both.

Richie thought better than to call out his name, opting instead to slowly approach Eddie. He did his best to labor his breathing in his short walk over, mentally preparing himself for the confrontation that was about to take place. The confrontation that would bear all feelings, all confessions. All of the walls Richie had been building around himself since high school would finally come down.

He wished he had another drink.

“Eds?” He spoke softly, possibly the softest he’d ever spoken, as to not scare Eddie and send him running. The shorter man lifted his head from his hands, and Richie’s heart broke even more at the sight before him. Eddie’s eyes were red and puffy, a wall of hurt extremely evident in the soft brown. His nose was runny, and his lip quivered as he looked away when he realized who was standing in front of him.

“Don’t call me that,” he practically whispered, just loud enough for the other to catch it over the bustle of traffic in the streets surrounding them. Although he was avoiding the other man’s gaze like his life depended on it, Eddie made no attempt to walk away. Richie took that as a small win.

“Eddie, talk to me. Please. What’s up? It’s just me and you, man. C’mon.” Richie wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch Eddie. Offer a comforting hand on his shoulder, run his fingers through his hair, hold him close, tell him everything would be okay. But he didn’t dare move.

A car honked down the street, offering the only noise that cut through the thick silence when Eddie didn’t take Richie’s offer to speak. The former stayed silent with his head down, finding the dirty concrete under his pristine white converse highly interesting. Richie let out a sigh.

“Okay, you don’t have to talk. I’ll do all the talking. I’m the Trashmouth after all, aren’t I?” Richie offered a lame chuckle when his attempt at a joke fell flat, Eddie not breaking his frown even slightly. Richie cleared his throat awkwardly before continuing. “Look, I talked to Stan, he told me what you guys talked about, and -” He was cut off by the same humorless chuckle he heard in the apartment minutes ago, but this time it dripped with sadness rather than anger.

“Dammit, Stanley, you fucking traitor,” Eddie mumbled mostly to himself. He shook his head with a deep sigh and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms, making them impossibly redder, before willing himself to look at Richie, his voice finally reaching above a murmur for the first time since leaving the party. “Secret’s out, I guess. I’m a fucking cliche. The fuckin’ queer that fell for his best friend.”

All Richie could do was silently stare, mouth slightly agape and eyes comically blown, amplified more so by his glasses. Sure, Stan had told him this not even five minutes beforehand, but hearing it from Eddie himself was an entirely different experience. He figured under different circumstances, Eddie would probably be laughing at how dumb he was sure he looked. Instead, the shorter man looked at him expectantly with tears still in his eyes, clearly waiting for some kind of response, and expecting the worst. They stood this way, basically a mirroring of what played out in the party upstairs before Eddie stormed out, for a solid minute before it was - once again - Eddie who broke the silence.

“So much for doing all the talking,” he muttered, the volume of his voice lowering, Richie realizing as Eddie looked back at the ground that he was closing in on himself once again. “Good night, Rich.”

“No,” Richie finally spoke, his arm darting out to grab Eddie’s hand before he could even adjust his feet to leave. “Please don’t walk away again. Please.” His voice broke on the last plea, his own eyes finally beginning to water. Eddie was still staring in the opposite direction down the concrete path he was planning on following before he was interrupted, but was staying put, not rejecting Richie’s hand in his. “There’s so much I wanna say to you, Eddie. So much. I just… Shit, I just don’t know how.”

Richie was crying just as much as Eddie was at this point but quieter, unable to pull himself together as much as he wanted to be brave. Eddie turned his head to face Richie with his glare still hardened, only softening when he saw the state Richie was in. Eddie had known Richie since they were literal children, and he knew better than anyone that Richie Tozier didn’t cry like this. Not unless something was truly eating at him. The anger Eddie felt towards the situation seemed to have completely disappeared as he comfortably squeezed Richie’s hand, giving him encouraging eyes.

The taller man used his free hand to rub the tears from his eyes, giving him a better look at Eddie. They were standing fairly close to the lone street light of the block, the faint orange tint of the bulb complimenting Eddie’s lightly tanned skin and chestnut eyes. Without thinking, Richie brought his hand up to Eddie’s face, cupping his cheek and wiping a stray tear away with the pad of his thumb. He continued softly rubbing at the skin there after the tear was gone, his thumb dancing across the freckles, his mind flooded with thoughts of how beautiful the man before him was. Eddie closed his eyes for a brief moment, taking in the feel of Richie’s touch.

Unable to find words again but refusing to let the moment slip out of his fingers for the third time of the night, Richie did the only thing he truly knew how to do; he acted impulsively.

If asked, Richie wouldn’t be able to pinpoint exactly when he decided to kiss the man he’d loved since he was 15 in the middle of Greenwich Village at one in the morning. Before he knew it, the hand on Eddie’s cheek slid down to his neck, pulling their lips together before the shorter man could react to the shift in Richie’s hold on him. As much as he didn’t want to admit the fact, Richie knew he wouldn’t have taken such action if it weren’t for the alcohol flowing through his veins, but at this point he didn’t much care. When their lips met, he forgot all about the booze, and became drunk on Eddie.

Eddie kissed back without hesitation, letting go of Richie’s hand and easily snaking his arms around his neck, with a comfortability as if they had done this thousands of times. It was sloppy due to the pair’s mixed tears along with their lack of experience, but nevertheless the two men kissed with purpose, as if the fate of their livelihood depended on this moment. Perhaps it did.

By the time they pulled away and rested their foreheads together, Eddie’s fingers had found themselves tangled in Richie’s dark curls, and Richie’s hands were gripping Eddie’s hips for dear life. The kiss hadn’t lasted too long - thirty seconds or so, if that - however the energy both men poured into those short seconds left them panting heavily, their breath tangling together, hot in the other’s face in the midst of the cold air around them.

“That was better than talking,” Richie breathed out with a wet chuckle, causing Eddie to finally crack his first smile of the night. It was a small one, the corners of his mouth curving only lightly, but Richie saw that his happiness had made its way into his stare.

“Shut up, Richie,” Eddie whispered with no real bite in his words before bringing their lips together again, this kiss softer than the last. While their first kiss was filled with the passion built up from years of mutual pining and secrets, their second let them convey the deepness of their love without words to speak. A tender peck of their lips told Richie everything he needed to know; this moment was very much real, and Eddie Kaspbrak very much loved Richie Tozier.

And if the kiss wasn’t enough, Eddie made sure to tell him when he pulled out of the kiss and rested his head on the taller man’s shoulder, pulling him into a proper embrace.

“I love you, Rich. I- I think I always have,” he confessed, his voice slightly muffled from where his face was buried in Richie’s neck, but the other man heard him loud and clear all the same. Richie released his grip on Eddie’s hips and wrapped his arms around him, letting himself breathe out a sigh of relief as he held him impossibly closer.

“I love you too, Eds. So fucking much, fuck.” Richie pressed a kiss to soft brown waves, breathing in the clean scent of lavender shampoo mixed with light cologne, his senses filling with just Eddie.

Standing in the middle of a bustling city they barely knew in the wee hours of a Sunday morning, arms wrapped tightly around one another, ignoring the strangers that walked past them most definitely giving them some variation of judgemental stares, Eddie and Richie had never felt more at home.

“Alright, Trashmouth,” Eddie started, reluctantly pulling away from Richie’s hold. Richie pouted at the loss of feeling Eddie’s body pressed against his own, making the latter chuckle and playfully roll his eyes. He pressed a quick peck to said trashmouth before continuing. “We can talk about this more in the morning. Right now, you need water and sleep.” Richie slapped a toothy grin onto his chapped lips after, once again, being reminded of how intoxicated he still was, falling back into his goofy demeanor with ease.

“Ya gonna take care of me, Dr. K? Ugh, what a dreamboat,” he replied, miming a cartoonish faint. Eddie simply giggled and grasped Richie’s hand once again, interlacing their fingers and leading him in the direction of their dorms. Richie fell back ever so slightly as to not get caught looking at Eddie like the lovesick dork he was, feeling a warmth grow in his body he was sure wasn’t due to the alcohol.

Richie still drinks after this night; old habits die hard, of course. However, Richie didn’t have to be drunk anymore to admit he loved Eddie. He told him sober and drunk, day and night, and vowed to remind Eddie just how much he loved him until the day they died.

#my writing #reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #reddie fic #reddie fanfic #reddie angst #it #it chapter one #it chapter two #it 2017 #it 2019

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

Scars That Heal || Eddie Kaspbrak x Reader Series

• Ch. 11: Under Pressure •

TRIGGER WARNINGS: blatant homophobia from Nicklesmart The Beatboxing Jester™️ in disguise as someone you know, internalized homophobia throughout the whole chapter. As usual, will put a skip marker for the heavier scene before and after if you need/want to skip. It is not light, ngl 😔 [trigger words: f*iry + the f slur, each used on exactly one occasion, and (as an insult) queer. I'm so sorry, this was not easy for me either and please do not read this if any of this in any way bothers you, i won't be mad if you skip the chapter 💕]

A/N: Next chapter will be all fluff I promise 🥲, I'm so sorry, but I needed something that could solidify Richie and Y/n's friendship for good, and her helping him through his worst fear is the best way to do that and will be explored in other ways throughout the rest of the series, specifically in the sequel. all that aside, I missed you guys and this series so much!!

LGBTQ+ RESOURCES AND SELF HELP LINKS AT THE BOTTOM OF THE CHAPTER

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

- 𝗔𝗨𝗚𝗨𝗦𝗧 -

    Richie keeps his eyes trained on the dried mud on his navy blue slip-ons as he makes his way across town, his mind buzzing twice as fast as it normally did. He felt as if his entire body had been put through a blender; his skull still vibrating in his head turning his brain into jelly. His stomach empty and lurching as it twisted into knots far more impossible than what you'd see from a circus performer and his heartbeat could rival a hummingbird's. Not to mention he was walking with two extra legs he'd grow from time to time, another freaky affect the physical and mental toll these past few weeks had put on him and his eyesight. The caffeine he had been living on hadn't helped him one bit either he reckoned.

    Insomnia had become his best friend in the past few weeks, hence this last-minute trip to the old gravel pit just behind Derry Town dump. At least, this was the lie he told himself to pluck up enough courage to call Y/n up. Richie hoped she could talk him through it, give him some advice. He was never this nervous to talk to her and deep down in a corner he wished to bury forever - that small part of himself that begged to be free - knew exactly why. This small, repressed Richie Tozier that lived locked away in the center of his heart was calling the shots that day. Hell, he probably had been his whole life but he wasn't ready to admit that to himself yet, let alone his true attentions of seeking her help.

    All he knew is he was nervous as all hell, his palms were sweating, he couldn't stop fiddling with his glasses and he was sure one wrong move and he'd shit his pants. For fucks sake, he needed to shake this! He had already freaked Y/n out, that he knew. He could still hear her voice over the receiver. It was soaked in static and every 's', or 'c' sound she made felt like a pencil was being shoved into his eardrums cause of her shitty outdated telephone.

    "You," she had asked with a pause. "want to meet at... the dump?"

    "Yeah," he scoffed, scratching the same spot behind his ear for what had to be the billionth time out of nervous habit. "you got wax in your ears, L/n?"

    "Nope. Just, a little confused is all. You seem kinda... I don't know, squirrely," she said wearily, and through a sharp crackling hiss from the receiver he can make out a nervous chuckle on her end. "You sure nothin' jumped up your ass or anything?"

    He bit his lip. Hard. As if punishing himself for drawing her suspicions this early. What if she somehow caught on to what he was gonna talk to her about? Her walk to the gravel pit would surely give her enough time to get to that conclusion, and Richie wasn't daft. He knew he wasn't exactly subtle about... "insomnia". What with how many times he teased insomnia, called it that special nickname he knew it hated but secretly loved. That forbidden flutter in his chest when insomnia would laugh at his jokes, and the small but precious moments they shared from time to time when the others were late that would stay in his heart and mind for weeks to come. But it didn't matter now, as everyone knew; insomnia kept Y/n's company now.

    Thankfully his mouth was faster than his brain, and it fired a rapid response before a lull could form.

    "You bet your fur," he fires, his lanky arm had rested awkwardly against the wall beside the wall mount. "I am right as rain, toots."

    He of course hadn't seen it, but she had frowned at her phone. Her concern was growing with every word spoken from him.

    "Yeah," she snorts, throwing back a sarcastic remark. "Cause you sound it."

    She had eased a bit, growing soft and falling back into their usual banter. Their special dynamic always seemed to coax down his guard a bit.

    "You're talking like a 1950's gangster in a speakeasy," She straightened a little and had begun pacing as much as the phone cord would allow her. "Ya know... More than usual."

    Y/n smiled when she could practically hear the smirk taking over his face, and she certainly had no trouble picturing his hunched shoulders and intimidating snarl he was most likely dawning.

    "It's a little somethin' called moxie, kid," he spoke with curled his words, imitating all the gangsters he had seen in those cheesy old films. "somethin' you just don't have,"

    Y/n had rolled her eyes again, at least Richie could see her doing so when he heard her respond. "Right, right. My bad Baby Face."

    "Hey!" He barked, snapping his fingers and pointing at the floor as if she could see him. His voice lowered in a thick Chicago accent. "That's mista Baby Face to ya."

    "Mista Baby Face Nelson!" She strained, her annoyed shout tainted with a laugh. "Are we meeting at five or not?"

    Richie released a quick and silent breath, expelling as many nerves as possible.

    "You bet your fur."

    The exchange kept playing over and over in his mind and Richie wondered if the same rang true for Y/n. He hoped not, cause that would mean she was thinking about it too much. Hell, he was thinking about it too much now. A heavy sigh rolls off of his chest as every anxiety collectively manifests into its own dark thought.

    Fuck, he really had it bad.

    How pathetic he was.

    Eddie would surely be horrified to know what Richie really thought of him, that was for sure.

    And as if he hadn't felt crazy enough, the thoughts actually began to feel like voices calling him from the darkest shadows of his mind.

    'And the other Losers? You'll be lucky if they even look at you again.'

    Richie was surprised to find himself fighting back, pushing back as much as he could. Despite all the jokes and jabs, he couldn't be completely alone. A small part whispered in his heart that he wasn't, and he thought briefly of the turtle strangely enough but it was gone just as soon as it had come. All he knew was that whatever was telling him this thing was stubborn. But so was Richie Tozier.

    He treated it as an intrusive thought. Made a decision then and there that it was, never occurring to him what it could be if wasn't.

    No way. Not those assholes, he tells the voice. These are the Losers for fucks sake!

    The more he thought about it the more he was sure of it. God forbid Eddie did find out, which Richie had no intention of, and what would happen was in fact unclear. But no matter how he looked at it, he just couldn't picture the little spaghetti man ever cutting him out of his life completely. Not by choice at least.

    Now Ben, that lovable sappy haystack of his that was too passionate for his own good. Richie may not be the silent type but he does pick up on things, and Hanscom's affections for Beverly Marsh were far from subtle. Always opening doors for her and turning redder than a tomato when she smiled at him. Not to mention Richie was about ninety percent sure there was a poem of some sort involved. And that was just Beverly, Ben was always thinking of the Losers. Now Richie knew for sure that boy had no hateful bone in his body to the point it was fucking annoying.

    Mike, Richie felt, might be a little similar. The kid had a lot of heart, always going on about the animals on his farm. Would even go as far to say he considered them his friends, what with how much Richie knew about Mooriuel the calf and he hadn't even met her for cripes sake! Richie imagined he'd be a bit more shocked but would try some sappy speech when he came around. Would make a whole big thing of it, pat him on the back, and even invite a conversation. He scoffed at the thought, the image of Mike slapping him on the back and his signature grin... Yeah, he appreciated the hypothetical gesture but it wasn't Richie's style.

    He could easily see Big Bill sputtering up a storm, but managing a smile. He'd probably even manage to forget their differences long enough to say something stupid but supportive. And Beverly and Stan were the ones he worried about the least. Stan would probably be too indifferent to care, throw him some snarky ass comment like, "took ya long enough, dipshit," and Beverly? Well, Beverly had always been cool, very laid back. She never took shit, and she never dished it out if she didn't think it was deserved which Richie admired greatly. This was one of many reasons he was so shocked she had taken Bill's side in the fight.

    The thought brings him back down again, and as soon as the memory touches him so do the nerves in his jaw tensing up again where he had been hit. He could feel the punch all over again. And he suddenly remembers why he is here.

    He is here, he realized.

    Just around the bend, coming into view was the gravel pit. Old and crumbling it was, and overrun with weeds and bushes. One could easily scale in and out of it, and at the very bottom Rich had discovered one day was a beaten and tattered leather seat from a car that found its way from the junkyard just a ways over. This was where he told Y/n to meet him.

    Y/n...

    Jesus fuck, what would Y/n say? How would he tell her? Would she still wanna be friends with him? Would she laugh and crack a joke, not taking it seriously? Would she hate him for it? More importantly, why in the ever-loving fuck was he here and willing to tell her?

    His gangly legs tumble into a sprint as he picks up momentum descending the uneven terrain. The rubber soles of his shoes kicking up the layers of dirt and shaved gravel that lay beneath the rocks and he had to put effort into not crashing as he comes to a stop. He manages to avoid a nasty fall, completely ignorant to the fact that his right foot had been only inches away from a root peeking out from the rocks surely would have broken his neck had he made even one wrong move. He puffs out his chest, dusting himself off, and once again tries to dispel the nausea broiling in his stomach like hot tar.

    He closes his eyes tiredly as he drags his feet to the leather bench, letting his backside fall through the air and into the somewhat plush cushion with a deep groan. "Fuck."

    His fingers rub his tired eyes, his fingertips finding bits of crust he hadn't gotten earlier and his knuckles brush his glasses further up onto his forehead. Not quite knowing what to do with the overwhelming thoughts and emotions clouding him, his fingers dig further into his eye sockets until all he can see are inky splotches behind his eyes.

    Richie doesn't know why he would ever think those things of Y/n. He hadn't ever told her this, not directly at least, but she was just about the only person in the world he trusted most. He knew in his heart of hearts this was why he found himself dialing her number before he could even register what he was doing. Even after their separation and the bitter feelings they took with it, the Losers were and always would be his best friends in the world.

    So why did everything about this feel so wrong?

    From the moment the phone call ended, he felt like he was waltzing into a trap like some putz...

    "Well, look who it is..." snarled a voice from up above the surface.

    Richie's blood ran cold and it felt as if the remainder of the air in his lungs had been squeezed out like air in a deflating balloon. He whipped around at the voice, his head twisting up at the silhouetted figure so fast he was shocked he hadn't broken his own neck. The figure held their hands on their hips, thousands of the sun's rays spilling around them as they blocked out a part of the sun, an advantage they reaped from where they stood before Richie at just the right angle. His breath caught in his throat as he had recognized the voice immediately, but the figure didn't quite match the voice.

    The last thing person he needed to see right now was Henry fucking Bowers, that was for sure.

    The universe agreed so it would seem. The figure shifted, just out of the light revealing the teasing smirk of his best friend Y/n. Her hands snapped together, her palms forming a handgun, the barrel aiming right at Richie's forehead.

    "The jig is up," she snarled. "We knows it was you. You was the ones to steal from Big Bill's dame, and I wouldn't be surprised if yous was in cahoots, neithers."

    Despite the fear that had clutched his heart only seconds ago, a small chortle left Richie at how awful her accent was. Hadn't she learned anything from him? A smug smile overtook Y/n's face as he broke. She holstered her handguns and gracefully descended the pile of gravel. His smile expired not long after, and despite the thin veil of clouds creeping over the sun the light in the sky was much too hard to even glance at his friend without blinking back several painful searing tears from the harsh light. But he could still make her out.

    She was dressed in her usual ratty and eclectic garb; a mix of something far too big for her frame and something that seemed far too tight to be comfortable. Richie was certain she had never once owned even a thread of clothing that had always been hers. Her s/c brow had its usual, light glossy sheen of grease that Richie had learned very early on to not ask about. But there was something about her now, something he couldn't quite place.

    Though one question kept popping up in his mind. One that left an itch in his brain he couldn't quite scratch in his dazed state. And that was how could he have possibly thought she sounded like Henry Bowers?

    He finds himself looking down at the gravel now, wiping away as much of the sun's damage pooling in his eyes as he can. Unbeknownst to him, she watches him studiously, the ghost of her smile still on her lips as if she was enjoying his discomfort. His long and gangly limbs are folded awkwardly, still, onto the leather seat that sits on the ground. Finally, she takes a seat beside him with a huff as he had.

    As he rubs his tired eyes for a second time she takes a long look around, breaking the silence when her trip around the gravel pit lands on him.

    "Well, you've looked better." She quips, offering a smile.

    Richie snorts, pushing his slipping glasses up the bridge of his nose with a friendly smirk. "This comin' from Raggedy Ann?"

    They both breathe a small laugh and for a moment - just one beautiful, fleeting moment - Richie forgets he was ever scared. This is what he needed.

    "So," she says, pulling his gaze towards her, sending him a cocky smile as a knowing look sparkles behind her eyes. "I'm guessing there's a reason I'm here, and not helping you with your summer training?"

    Richie, for reasons unknown to him, feels his muscles tense up again involuntarily. Like a puppeteer suddenly yanking the strings, ripping his shoulders up to his ears and his muscles bracing. He felt rigid and he was, but he was doing all he could not to show it. All his unease came back in steady waves marching up the sand, but what could he do now? He could already feel her eyes burning holes into the side of his head as he kicked around a sizeable rock with the toe of his shoe, studying him. Waiting.

    Finally, his shoulders slumped in a shrug, lower lip in an indifferent pout as he looked around at the sky hanging above the gravel pit.

    "Just needed a change from all those ugly mugs, I guess," he manages a laugh, and he rises to his feet to lazily chase the rock that had rolled out of his reach.

    He can feel her eyes on him still, and he doesn't know what to make of it until finally she breaks her silence with a chuckle and rises to join him. She catches the rock with the heel of her dirtied sneakers. They're worn down to the very last thread and several shades off from the original color. She kicks the rock back to him, and they engage in a lazy game of rock soccer.

    "I can understand that," she says calmly, eyes trained on the rock as it tumbles across the gravel with several chunky clanks. "Reckon it'll be good for you, too,"

    He frowns confused without looking up at her, winding one lanky leg back before one big kick. "Whad'ya mean?"

    "Well, you don't wanna spend your whole summer inside of an arcade, do you?"

    Richie's face freezes in a frown, the rest of his body going rigid. His eyes cement on the rock underneath his shoe, willing away the veil of tears that threatened to fall. Had he not been so caught up on why he was here, Richie might have had a clear enough head to realize Y/n wasn't there for that conversation, nor had she heard about it from anyone there. Instead, all Rich can think about is the small hypochondriac boy that had stolen his heart.

    He can hear the conversation he had with his best friend, all those weeks ago when school let out. And if felt like a lifetime since he had seen that squishable, pouty little disgusted frown Eddie always put on that made Richie's inside melt. As if reading his mind, Y/n spoke.

    "This is about Eddie, isn't it?"

    Her tone is gentle but veiled. Something was concealed about the way she held herself, ever since she had arrived, something that Richie couldn't quite place. And there it was. He was right about her suspecting him, he must be. Richie battles the lump forming in his throat, and he can feel his ears turning pink under her unwavering and unblinking stare.

    Richie does all he can to fight a snarky response, not knowing how else to navigate and survive the intensity of his feelings. All he manages to do is nod.

[■■■■■■■■■■■■]

    "Rich, it's okay," she says, taking a step forward, his gaze is pulled to her eyes. And here it is, he thinks. The moment he had been dreading, the moment he hadn't even allowed himself to think about. "...I miss him, too."

    His face caught in another frown. That's definitely not what he expected her to say. Quickly as he could, he wiped away a spot of snot at his nose. He had managed to keep the tears at bay but now they had found another way out. He felt like a fucking fool, and he wanted nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. Of course she didn't know what he was talking about. Why would she - how would she? His spirits were crushed, and he suddenly didn't feel like getting into it now. She seemed off today, not that Richie cared. All he wanted was for this whole day to be over with, not even knowing the worst had yet to come.

    She studies his reaction, almost as if she had been waiting for this and she blinks for what Richie is now starting to realize must be the first time since she got here. Y/n's face screws into a frown, and yet there still lingered an uneasy smile that taunted him. Her eyes squint suspiciously at Richie, her head tilting in an expression he never knew he had always feared would come.

    She laughs finally, a shrill and grating laugh he hadn't quite heard before and she nudges him playfully. "Oh, come on! It's not like you've got some faggy crush on him or something?"

    When he doesn't answer, she scoffs, turning away and shaking her head in disbelief for a moment.

    Richie felt he just might vomit. Or cry. Or both. He had never felt so distraught, so dejected. So broken.

    How could she be saying these things?

    He tries with all his might to conjure a response, any fucking thing at all so he wasn't some blubbering broken chump breaking down in front of her. But for the first time in his life, Richie "loudmouth" Tozier was speechless.

    That fuck-awful grating laugh returns, a sour look screws up her face as she looks him up and down in disgust.

    "Wait, seriously?" She gapes with a scoff, making him feel about two inches tall. "You actually think he'd want to be with some fairy freak like you?"

    "F-f-uck off," he sputters, though he does not feel better.

    The trembling in his voice, the vulnerability, hearing it in himself strips any remaining scrap of confidence he had left. He's crying now and there's no hiding it. And she heard it in his voice, he knew that now as he looks at her. Her lips curl into a malicious smile and she takes another step closer, Richie fumbles a step back.

    "He isn't some," her nose crinkles as she continues to advance on him, the fire in her eyes building as he stumbles back to escape her sudden venom. "rotten queer like you."

    Y/n spits the words out like they were poison on her tongue, and this was true in every way. Her fiery stare never left Richie, it burned holes right through him as she advanced on him like a wolf on a wounded doe. They were nearing the edge of the gravel pit, and Richie had nearly run out of room when her finger stabbed his chest like a sword's final strike to the heart, pushing him to the ground as she spoke those poisonous words.

    Richie felt his backside meet several jagged rocks that brought even more tears to his eyes, though none of them hurt as much as her words. She towered over him now, the sun beating down on her back and pouring over her shoulders, trapping Richie in her shadow. She shakes her head, and he can still make out the pathetic look on her face as she glowers at him.

    "It's girls he likes. It's me he likes." she points to herself, shaking her head. "He was mine the second he saw me, but you?"

    She scoffs again, and her shadow releases him as she kneels to balance on her feet, legs folded before him with a snide look.

    "You've always been the insufferable loudmouth he couldn't get rid of." A sharp laugh escapes her, the clutch on his heart tightening to dangerous amounts he fears it will give out. "Well, I guess he doesn't have to worry about that now, huh?"

    His heart feels as if it has been ripped to shreds, the claws of the wolf had struck and now he was drowning in his own sorrows as pain as the heartbreak filled his lungs. Richie could no longer see behind the thick wall of glassy tears that blanketed his eyes, and the sounds of his own sobs amplified his embarrassment and despair. He was hopelessly broken, and he could feel himself crumble, each piece disappearing amongst the gravel underneath him until he couldn't be found. He blinked only once, but it was enough to send every tear racing down his cheek at once.

    Another malicious smile contorts her face, her e/c eyes burning darker until they looked almost a completely different shade. Her lips seemed to stretch on and on and on in a way only one thing could. And it was then that it occurred to him.

    Not one thing she had said to him is something he could have ever prepared himself for, each word constricting his heart and lungs and swelling his throat with the ever-growing lump.

    Nor was any of it something she would ever dream of saying, he knew this now.

[■■■■■■■■■■■■]

    This wasn't Y/n, this was never Y/n. She had never showed, and if he hadn't been so wrapped up in his own fucking head he would have caught on from the second "Y/n" arrived. Especially that entrance, Y/n surely would have fallen on her ass on her way down into the gravel pit never mind the fact her accent wouldn't be nearly as shit.

    But none of this mattered now. This thing that looked like his friend had him cornered, and It knew it.

    A wicked grin overtook the mask of Y/n's face that chilled Richie to his bones, and yet it also reassured him. Y/n was tough and could be scary from time to time, but he knew she could never be capable of the pure evil that now danced in It's eyes. Richie's body was already in motion, his arms and legs scrambling for any sort of grip that could take him up the side of the pit and to safety. But the gravel beneath him was always shifting, rolling out from underneath him when it wasn't raking his palms to pieces and all he was accomplishing was a small plume of dust that clung to his backside.

    Richie didn't know where it came from, but his actions were faster than his feelings as his fist collided with It's nose. And no sooner did the heel of his shoe collide in a painful crack that sent It's head back, did his eyes widen in horrific shock. The painful crack that would surely haunt him for many nights to come, had not been from the collision of his heel on It's nose but It's head - or Y/n's as this was still It's disguise - had snapped completely back and dangled completely off It's/her shoulders.

    The only thing connecting her head to her shoulders was the suit of s/c skin. Protruding from the center of her neck just under the skin was the end of her spine where it had disconnected, giving away a disturbing lack of muscles and veins in her neck as if it had been hollowed out like a pumpkin. Her head rolled back and forth limply, and Richie could feel bile climbing up his throat, ready to burst out his digested mac and cheese.

    His mind was screaming at his legs to run while all was still but a small part of him knew this was all a gambit, that it didn't matter if she was frozen stiff or not. Richie knew as soon as he booked it, It would spring to life with something even more twisted. That now, without his friends, he was as good as dead.

    And It was more than happy to prove Richie right.

    The clone of his friend sprang to life, It's head still rolling around on It's shoulders. Connected only by the skin of It's neck, and moving around like some fucked up slinky toy. Richie was already halfway up the gravel pit, bits of rock and dirt finding their way into his shoes as he kicked up the earth though that was the farthest thing from his mind.

    By the time Richie reached the top of the pit, he could no longer hear the thunderous boom of his heart attempting to break loose from his chest, which was saying an awful lot. His screams echoed out into the air only to be swallowed by the screams of other children and Richie didn't know how he knew this but he knew those were the screams of Betty Ripsom, Ed Corcoran... Georgie Denbrough. The bloodied screams of It's victims were drowning Richie as he ran for the junkyard, and he wondered if he might live to hear them stop.

    The screams were so fucking loud in his ears he could see them. Each of them a blinding, deafening, gut-wrenching, and blood-curdling scream that danced through the air like ribbons as they begged for their lives. Richie cried out and he couldn't even hear his own voice, but he didn't let this stop his legs from pumping as hard as they possibly could. He was nearly to the junkyard, surely he could use something to fend It off but he knew he was just buying time.

    He could taste the blood on his tongue from where his teeth bit into his cheek. In all his short life, Richie Tozier would not have guessed child-eating clown to be the way he'd kick the can. When ever the thought of death began troubling him, he always liked to picture something like a western. Him and his rightful enemy squaring off against good and evil, he'd shoot first and save the day but still sustain an injury and bleed out. But it'd be a hero's death. And that was something.

   But this... this was something born out of darker than evil and Richie was about to be pulled into the gravity well of this black hole and swallowed up. And he knew in his soul, the very pits of his stomach it would reach out with its shadowy arms and pull him into darkness.

    And it did.

    Richie had been rapidly approaching the edge of the junkyard without realizing and within an instant found himself on the ground, caved in on himself as he tumbled in the dirt and rocks accepting he was to join them soon enough. He closed his eyes and waited for death as a hand curled around his shoulder and pulled him around. Another jolt of shock shot through his entire body at the sudden contact, locking his jaw and paralyzing his entire body in fear as he was met with the new threat. He didn't dare open his eyes, and certainly not when he heard his best friend's voice again.

    "Richie! Richie?"

    It was her again, he realized. Y/n's real voice, the one that he heard on the telephone that was dripped in static. The one now dripped in fear.

   "Richie?!"

    When the boy opened his eyes, they were filled with terror and his sobs continued. A lense Y/n never thought she'd see Richie look at her through. Her heart broke in an instant when she realized he was afraid... of her. Instantly, she released him and let her backside fall back into the gravel. She watched through a thick wall of tears as he trembled, crying to himself, and never in all her life had she seen Richie Tozier so broken.

    It tore her apart.

    She didn't have to be a genius to realize what had happened here. Before she had even reached the junkyard on her bike she had heard his screams strangled through the wall of trees gating the area. When she had reached the gravel yard, she was happy to see him still in one piece but he was running for his life from an invisible force. The damn coward had gotten what It wanted and scared him shitless, but why would he disappear just because she showed? She had wondered.

    Now she was beginning to understand. It didn't need to be here to scare her. Just the sight of Richie in such a state was enough to tear her down and it took just about everything in her not to scream into the sky from a mix of fury and fear.

    Besides the tears that race down her cheeks and wet her legs, all Y/n could feel was a painfully numbing fear. Fear that Richie would never be the same. Fear that Richie would never speak to her again. Fear that Richie would never trust her again. Fear for whatever the fucking hell that thing did to Richie. Fear that It would do it again.

    All she felt now was fear for Richie.

    Y/n doesn't bother to fight the sob that breaks loose, her bottom lip quivers violently and her arms fall to the gravely pavement beneath her. As if her head had filled with lead, it grew heavy enough to fall into her chest where her chin landed, shaking several more tears loose.

    "I'm s-so sorry, Richie,"

    Y/n yearns to say more, but her body is physically weak from sadness and shame. Yet still, she repeats it in her mind hoping with everything in her it slips out of her mouth, or maybe if she thought them loud enough he'd hear them in his mind.

    I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't there. I'm sorry for whatever happened. I'm so goddamn sorry...

    "I'm sorry," she whimpers. "I promise..."

    I promise I'm not gonna hurt you. I promise I'm not gonna hate you. I promise I'm gonna be there for you, from now on. I promise.

    Her sniffles blend with his own, and Richie is unsure why this is the moment he knows for sure this is the real Y/n before him; maybe he was just too exhausted to think it through, perhaps it was the godawful sound she was making trying to keep herself from snotting as bad as he was but he knew It had gone. And the Y/n sitting beside him — crying with him, was the one he dialed up today. This was the Y/n he had been prepared to bare his soul to. His true self.

    So with one shaky hand — the other still tucked in close to his chest — Richie's left hand slid out from under him and across the gravel to Y/n's open palm. Her fingers were digging into the gravel, sharp edges of the rock digging into her skin as if to assure herself she was really real. Suddenly, she felt Richie's shaky palm slide underneath hers, carefully taking it.

    Y/n picked her glassy stare up from the ground to look at their intertwined hands, and she melted a little. Several of those fears — not all of them, but some — were ebbed away and she looked to Richie. He was still curled up in the dirt, his eyes closed and silent tears streaking his dirt-covered face. Each tear paved a path of clean skin, washing the dirt away in wild streaks where ever each tear had fallen. Several large and swollen beads of tears collected at his chin where they dangled, threatening to fall.

    She gave his hand a squeeze, letting him know she was there for him as she had promised him. And she was ready to sit with him for as long as he needed.

    For hours that feel only like minutes, they sit together in tear-filled silence, clinging to one another's presence and the knowledge that they are now all they have left.

    And there was no way they were letting go.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Here are some LGBTQ+ resources for mental health and self help if you feel you need them:

How do I find LGBTQ friendly therapy?

An article on safe ways to find the best sources of help that are right for you

The Trevor Project

Self Care Tips for Trans and Non Binary Folks

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[yukinojou]

I already squeed quite a bit on Twitter, but turns out my Shadow and Bone thoughts demand longform. So that was a 40+ tweet thread or using my Tumblr for an original post for once.

I was wary about the Shadow and Bone adaptation the way I'm usually wary about good books being adapted onscreen. It was amplified because my actual favourites are the Six of Crows books, and because the American-based movie complex has a bad track record of doing anything based on Eastern Europe. 8 episodes in 3 days should tell you how much I loved it - the moment I finished, I wanted more.

First, the technical praise:

Damn but the plotting is tight. It took me a while to realised it's based on heist movie bones, where every little thing (The Freaking Bullet!) is important. The story fulfills its promises and manages not to bore at the same time - it delights by the way they're fulfilled. I called out a few plot developments moments before they happened, and I was happy about it. Such a joy after so many series where "not doing what viewers expect" led to plot holes and lack of sense. It might be an upside to the streaming model after all.

From a dramatic point of view I can tell all the reasons for all the changes, especially providing additional outsider points of view on Ravka (Crows) and letting viewers see Mal for themselves the way he only comes across in later books.

Speaking of which, this is a masterclass in rewriting a story draft. SaB was Bardugo's first, and having read later books you can really see where she didn't quite dare to break the YA rules yet, especially Single POV that necessitated a tight focus on Alina's often negative feelings rather than the big picture and a triangle that felt a bit forced. The world in the series is so much bigger, the way Bardugo could finally paint it when SaB success gave her more creative freedom, and some structural choices feel familiar too. It's a combination of various choices by crew and cast, but the end result meshes together so tightly and naturally.

Visuals! Especially the war parts because Every Soviet Movie Ever, but also the clothes (I would kill for Nina's blouse in the bar), the jewelry, the interiors. The stag was so very beautiful. And a deep commitment to a coherent aesthetic for each character and setting.

Look, you can do a serious fantasy series with colours! Both skin colours and bright sets and clothing! And all scenes were well lit enough to know what's going on, even in the Fold!

Representation (aka I Am Emotion)

To start with: I was born behind the Iron Curtain, in the last years of the Cold War. The Curtain was always permeable to some extent, and we have always been aware that while we have talented artists of our own, we never had the budgets and polish of the Anglosphere Entertainment Machine. So we watched a hell of a lot of American visual storytelling especially because yeah, you can tell we don't have the budgets. 90s and 2000s especially, it's getting better now.

In American stories, the BEST case scenario for Eastern European representation is the Big Dumb Pole, the ethnic stereotype Americans don't even notice they use, where the punchline is that his English is bad or that he grew up outside Anglo culture. Other than that, it's criminals, beggars, sex trafficking victims, refugees. Sure, we may look similar (except we really really don't, not if you're raised here and see the distinct lack of all those long-jawed Anglo faces), but we are not and have never been the West, never mind America. It's probably better for younger people now, but I was raised under rationing and passport bans. Star Trek and Beverly Hills 90210 were exactly as foreign to me.

The first ever character I really identified with was Susan Ivanova in Babylon 5 (written by J. Michael Straczynski, yay behind-camera representation). This was a Russian Jewish woman very much in charge, in the way of strong women I know so well, not taking any bullshit, not repressing her feminity. I recognised her bones, she could be my cousin. The sheer relief of it. There have been few such occasions since.

The reason I picked up Shadow and Bone in the first place was recommendations from other Polish people. I've had no problems finding representation in Eastern European books because wow our scene is strong in SFF especially, but it's always a treat to find a book in English that gets it. And Leigh gets it, the bones of our culture, and I could even look past the grammar issue (dear gods and Americans, Starkova for a woman, Morozov for a guy) that really irked me because of the love for the setting and the characters, the weaving in of religion/mysticism (we never laicisized the same way as the West, natch), the understanding of how deep are the scars left in a nation at war for centuries. The books are precious to me, they and Arden's Winternight and Novik's Spinning Silver.

To sum up: Shadow and Bone the Netflix series gets it. You can tell just how much they've immersed themselves in Eastern European culture and media, it comes across so well in visuals and writing and characters. Not just the obvious bits (though the WWII propaganda posters gave me a giggle), but the palaces, the additional plotlines and characters, the costumes, the attitudes. About the only thing missing in the soldier scenes was someone singing and/or quoting poetry.

I will blame the Apparat's lack of beard on filming in a non-Orthodox country. Poland's Catholic too, but I very much imagined him as an Orthodox patriarch, possibly because I read the books shortly after a visit to Pecherska Lavra in Kiev and the labyrinthine holy catacombs there. Small quibble, not my religion, not my place to speak.

(I've seen discussion on the issues with biracial representation in the show, which is visceral and apparently based on bad experiences of one of the show writers in a way that's caused pain to other Asian and biracial people. I'm not qualified to speak on those parts, other that Eastern Europe is... yeah. Racist in subtly different ways. If anything, the treatment of the Suli as explained in Six of Crows always read so very true of the way Roma are treated, and even sanitised.)

And now for the spoiler-filled bits:

Kaz and Inej. I mean... just THEM. So many props to the actors, the writers, the bloody goat.

I adore the fact the only people who get to have sex in the show are Jesper and a very lucky stablehand.

Ben Barnes needs either an award or a kick. The man's acting choices and puppy eyes are as epic as his hair.

So Much Love for Alina initiating the kiss. Her book characterisation makes sense, she's so trapped in her own head because she has no time to process everything that's happening, but grabbing life by the lapels is a much more active choice. Still not making the relationship equal, but closer to it.

Speaking of, Kaz's constant awareness of how unequal his relationship with Inej is, and attempts to give her agency. I'm really curious how his touch issues come across to someone who doesn't know the backstory there.

Feodor and his actor. He looks exactly like the pre-war heartthrob Adolf Dymsza, a specific upper-class Polish ethnic type that's much rarer now that, well, Nazis killed millions of Polish intellectuals in their attempt to reduce us to unskilled labour only. The faces he makes are the Best.

Nina!! Nina is perfect, those cheekbones, that cheek, I was giggling myself silly half the time. I cannot wait to see Danielle Galligan take on the challenge of Nina's plotline in Six of Crows and Crooked Kingdom, she'll kill us dead.

I already mentioned that the writers fixed Mal's absence from the first book, but Mal in general! The haircut gives him a kind of rugby charm, and Archie Renaux is outstanding at emoting without talking. Honestly, all the casting in this series is inspired, but him in particular.

Extra bonus: Howard Charles and Luke Pasqualino playing so very much against the type of the swaggering Musketeers I saw them play last. Arken dropping the mask at the end... Howard Charles is love.

I can't believe not only was Milo's bullet a plot point, but the fact Alina was wearing a particularly sparkly hair ornament in a long series of beautiful hair ornaments was a plot point.

In conclusion: so much love, and next three season NOW please. Okay, give me a week to reread the books, and an extra day because new Murderbot drops tomorrow...

#shadow and bone #six of crows #shadow and bone meta

[popculturebuffet]

Uncle Scrooge by Don Rosa:  The Isle at the Edge of Time (Thank You Comission For Rosie Isla)

Hello all you happy people! Today’s review is a bit special as it’s the result of another review. See I had trouble finding a translation of the subject of last weeks’ mother’s day special, Family Ties. 

No not that one. I have Paramount+. I can watch all the Family Ties I want and that’s a fact that i’m pleased as punch about. 

No it was the story 80 is Prachtig, called Family Ties in the copy used, Della’s first major comics appearance and one that explains what happened to her in the classic continuity, one that clearly served as the foundation for her far more fleshed out 2017 versions personality and backstory. It also had Pinocchio in it for some reason, and spent most of it’s large run time on a meta comedy plot that had nothing to do with the reason anyone wanted to read this story in the first place.

But despite being a vitally important story, it never got an english translation, something that baffled me till I read the story and found cameos of the racist indigenous stereotypes from Peter Pan. In 2014. You may commence booing. Even with how weird the story was I simply couldn’t find the story googling it and the Della tag is too vast and deep to go spelunking in.

So what’s all this have to do? Simple I put out a post last month when neither I nor Kev, who wanted to comission it as part of Moons, Millionares and Mothers, my coverage of all three season 2 Ducktales story arcs, could find a copy and offered a review to whoever found it.  Weeks passed I got nothing.. then in the 11th hour I got a break as the lovely @rosieisla​ found a translation that was on this very site, one she seemed to have helped with. As a result I could do the review and as a man of my word, offered it up despite her clearly having not seen that part of the post and simply having done this to be nice. Still she gladly took up the offer and offered me my pick of two stories: The Carl Barks Story Back to Long Ago or this one. 

As for WHY I picked this one Back To Long Ago didn’t seem bad, i’m just not a fan of “The Cast is put in the past as their own ancestors” type deals. Or in some cases put the cast as people from that time period. It’s just not for me and is most often done in TV where it can get really goofy, Beverly Hills 90210 being a prime example of this, though Girl Meets World was no slouch in being embarassing... that being said I really need to finish that show and miss it. 

So yeah when put up against a story with two intresting hooks and FLINTHEART GLOMGOLD, even if i’ts not the version that’s my boy, it was no contest. So what are these hooks you ask? Well join me under the cut and find out. 

We open with a weird stylistic choice: This story has a narrator complete with caption boxes. Now for those of you familiar with comics or pastiches of comics in tv and film, this probably dosen’t seem like a big deal. It was a common thing in comics from their inception to 90′s to have caption boxes, big boxes of text narrating the action to help move things along faster. It did start to fade out by the 80′s and was gone by the end of the 90′s for the most part, replaced instead with first person narration. It’s the kind of thing you’d see most often in the Golden and Silver Ages, with stuff like tihs

It’s not a BAD device, it’s good old cheesy and bombastic fun and some writers did get clever with it.. like that time Chris Claremont used the narration to yell at a greiving cyclops after he lost a teammate early in his long and storied run on the uncanny x-men. 

This is a objectively weird scene that’s still somehow effective by the by. On the one hand it does come off as Chris Claremont essentally bullying Cyclops who already feels guilty for a death that was not in fact his fault as Thunderbird was told the plane he was attacking with fleeing villian Count Nefaria was about to explode and refused to listen.. and that they needed to get rid of either him or Wolverine as both served the same purpose and chose the non-white guy. 

On the other htough it comes off just as much as Scott beating himself up in his grief and anger over the event and his perceived failings as a leader. It’s good stuff and shows why this run caught on as this was only three issues in. Also the rest of the issue features the X-Men fighting a giant cyclopian demon that Cyclops accidently freed in his rage by destroying the stone thing keeping him imprisoned. No really here’s the cover

Huh so tha’ts what Nifty’s dad looks like. Neat. Also I REALLY hope we get the X-Men fighting aliens or demons in the MCU. Unlike the XCU the MCU isn’t alergic to getting batshit.. and for the record Deadpool and New Mutants are the exception, not the rule.

My point that I swear I do have is that this was common practice for most comics.. but never really for Disney Duck comics. It popped up ocasionally, like with Scrooge’s introduction, but Barks and those after him never really used them that much. Sure they’d have caption boxes for flasbacks and what not but Barks and Co geninely only used this sort of thing to set up a story. The most i’ve seen it in a duck comic is life and times and even then i’ts usually only used for gags or to set up the passage of time, as the story IS covering decades and thus often needed to have montages to show time passing, and in the case of chapter 11, had to cover decades in the span of a single chapter, so it’s not like they had many other options. So even Rosa as a personal quirk didn’t really use these often. 

Rosa used this specifically because he felt the plot was complicated by the use of the international date line. As for what it is, it’s essentially a line marking calender dates from one side of the hemisphere to the others. To use the offical defentition from the National Ocean Service I found via a quick google:

“The International Date Line, established in 1884, passes through the mid-Pacific Ocean and roughly follows a 180 degrees longitude north-south line on the Earth. It is located halfway round the world from the prime meridian—the zero degrees longitude established in Greenwich, England, in 1852.

The International Date Line functions as a “line of demarcation” separating two consecutive calendar dates. When you cross the date line, you become a time traveler of sorts! Cross to the west and it’s one day later; cross back and you’ve “gone back in time."

Despite its name, the International Date Line has no legal international status and countries are free to choose the dates that they observe. While the date line generally runs north to south from pole to pole, it zigzags around political borders such as eastern Russia and Alaska’s Aleutian Islands.”

Rosa felt this made the story complicated.... and that... really isn’t remotely true. The narration is mostly used for gagas and really dosen’t clarify anything. it’s mostly used well in the opening.. but the actual explinations for the date line are clear enough in the story that even if I hadn’t looked the thing up, I still would’ve got it and i’m sure a kid would’ve too. It just feels like a weird thing to ruminate on, especially because he’s got actual things to make up for: while to his credit the native american characters he cribbed from carl barks are sympathetic, their culture respected and treated decently and used for a green aseop, their dialouge is stitled and sterotypical something he dosen’t even comment on (And these trades ewren’t THAT long ago) 

And of course it dosen’t help that he dosen’t even comment on using a common device in american superhero boooks.. in the same volume where he ONCE again makes an unwanted and outdated diatribe about superhero comics. I’ll probably cover the Super Snooper Strikes again so I can throughly tear this apart but higlights include: Calling superhero comics “Unwanted” just because he dosen’t like them personally, when people like me would disagree and they’ve lasted through a LOT of highs and lows, outdately saying they took over the American market as the only suitable comics which while true for a TIME,but by 2015 when this book was printed is laughably out of date, as non superhero works like The Walking Dead, Saga, and Scott Pilgrim were massively popular, one of my faviorite comics that is entirely slice of life and would go on to bea huge hit, Giant Days, re-debuted that very year. He also has the fucking gal to insult The Uncanny X-Men by name and I swear to god I did not know this when I made those references earlier, but as you probably guessed REALLY god me livid. 

And this is just on his COMMENTS on the story I can’t imagine just how bad the content itself is and having read the first few pages which come off as Rosa using Donald to essentially do an “old man yells at cloud rant” about superhero comics, I really don’t want to. Might make htis a patreon exclusive or again would do it on comissoin. You all make the call.... the point is I don’t likes his elitist bullshit about superhero comics, and this is clearly something that gets my hackles up as I just spent a good two paragraphs of an entirely unrealted review yelling at the guy for it. I don’t like when he does this and this authors notes entirley felt like an excuse. I GET the dark age of comics were bad, they REALLY were that bad, but I will NEVER accept painting an enitre genre as bad just because one work in it is bad. And I wont accept it from someone who himself writes about an often throughly unlikeable anti-hero for a living.  Scrooge may not have a gun on his gun on his gun or get to stabbing or have pouches, but he DOES finacially abuse his nephew, scoff at people’s personal troubles, and often refuse to use his wealth to help others in general. So yeah in conclusion Rosa really needs to say less about this subject. 

Okay so where were we.. right the story hadn’t even started yet. Jesus. 

Okay so our story begins with the narrator. Whose going on about time and what not. The main point of this speech about time is that it’s night in Duckburg and Scrooge is going to bed as, even being the workhorse that he is, he can’t keep going 24 hours. While he’s snoozing though something major happens and it’s the hook that made me pick this story along with the international dateline one.. an island rises thanks to volcanic erruption.. and the lava is GOLD. That’s just pure unabashed classic Duck Stuff: a mysterious treasure or phenominon of gold bound to bring scrooge in. 

But Scrooge isn’t stupid: the sun comes up and the world still spins while he sleeps, so he set up a satalite to monitor for this sort of thing. The thing naturally goes nuts.. and even more naturally breaks down becasue Scrooge bought cheap parts. A nice gag and a fully in character way to bring our antagonist into the picture, as the Satellite of Loaded falls in the middle of South Africa... right on the property of my boy Flintheart Glomgold. 

This is something Rosa brought up in his commentary for the story i’d never thought about. It turns out Glomgold being a citzen of Duckburg WASN’T an invention of the original Ducktales but the comics: some overseas had understandably moved him from his home country of South Africa. Him bieing in the same town as Scrooge instead of half a world away allows for easier setups and more intresting ones.

Rosa however being obdient to Barks Version of things, ketp Glomgold in South Africa like barks did, which was an .. ifffy decision given Apartheid had JUST ended at the time of this story. Not so much in the reboot as not only had apartheid been long gone by the time of the reboot, but that’s more fair. Still we do get some gorgeous vistas as a result as Glomgold’s minon goes to look at it and finds it’s from McDuck Mining company... Glomgold’s reaction is obvious. 

So on that note we cut to Scrooge rushing to Donalds house and forcing him awake and not telling him anything at first. Look his Ducktales Counterpart straight up kidnapped his donald in my last review, I’d call this a win. He also tries to dress Donald while explaning both his panic to find the crashed satlitle and what it found: the golden island. The end result of him dressing donald is worth a chuckle

So after Donald puts his shirt and little hat on our heroes get rollin rollin rollin what keep rollin rollin rollin who to Manilla. On the plane we get the scene I mentioned: The boys make a quip about Scrooge having lost a day and the group go over the international date line. It’s a fun little scene especially Donald trying to get paid early at the end. Classic scrooge and donald stuff without the abusive undertones some of their classic stuff has. 

Meanwhile Glomgold works out the data and finds out about the gold island, and his excitement accidently wakes a giraffe outside.. welll it was nice knowing him, Giraffes are the deadliest species known to man.. here’s an educational video t back that up....

So at Manilla Airport, Scrooge finds out abotu the south african crash, figuring he’ll get a laugh out of glomgold being there ... only for Donald to spot the Jet. Scrooge figures this can’t be anything good... now come on man maybe he’s just promoting his energy drink. 

As super sayin god super sayian as my witness, I will never get tired of Ultra Instinct Glomgold here. 

Scrooge isn’t so nice about that though and figures he better find out if Glomgold knows about the island and bribes one of the fueling crew for his uniform. He sucesssfully eavesdrops on Glomgold talking to his pilot, finding out from him exactly WHERE the island is. He ends up hilariously botching the mission though: when getting ready to leave Glomgold complains abotu the price of gas and that naturally causes Scrooge, just as cheap, to join in... and Glomgold to find out it’s Scrooge. The two wrestle outside the plane but before this can progress to a game of Naked Robber an airport security guy comes up and Scrooge cleverly claims that Glomgold’s plane has an infestiation, requring it to be quanrantined and allowing Scrooge to jet on.. thoguh not with an actual jet. With Glomgold seemingly dispatched, he can afford to save some money and take his time with a seaplane and I know just the man for the job. 

Oh nope looks like he’s busy. So one time related rambles later we meet Keoki, their asian pilot from the tiny island of Wookawooka.. and no that’s not a real place i checked... and no Fozzy dosen’t own it his check bounced. That being said it is a very well done represntation of someone from a smaller country: he’s doing this job to try and bring money back home, but being a seaplane captain just isn’t enough and his island is dying. Scrooge naturally is about as sympathetic as you’d expect, having apparently never even heard of the idea of a bonus when Huey, Dewey or Louie suggests it. 

Even less suprising is that Glomgold streaks by in his Jet:turns out Manilla was already overun with the bugs Scrooge claimed and Donald rubs it in that had Scrooge got a JET this wouldn’t of been an issue. 

So Glomgold easily beats them there, and to add insult and actualy injury to a cash based one, our heroes get blasted by golden lava on the way in and crash. Should’ve gotten launchpad... got the crashing professional. Keoki is dispondent as this means his people are doomed. He also dosen’t know waht staking a claim is when Scrooge mentions it and the boys bring him up to speed with the poor guy saying he wish he could for WookaWooka. Donald also makes a valid point about how greedy and heartlress scrooge can be.. and really billiionares in general.

No no YOUR the Grouch who refuses to have one drop of emapthy. Donald’s just pissed at your general selfish and terrible behavior. 

Glomgold glomgloats and has seemingly won... but naturally that rant that seemed extranious at the time about the date line comes into play: turns out the Island is on it, and since glomgold put his marker int he west, Scrooge simply puts his in the east which is a whole day before. Now GRANTED there’s nor eal legal prescendice for the intetaoinal date line itself , as noted above... but there’s enough witnesses in Scrooge’s favor that it simply does not matter anyway. Scrooge SEEMINGLY wins.

But Huey, Dewey Or Louie instead backs another claim: Keoki’s from earlier. While it was made in gest, he and the others along with Donald back it as witnsses instad. WookaWooka is saved and SCrogoe ends the story yelling at the narrator.

Final Thoughts: Don Rosa.. did not like this story, feeling it wasn’t one of his best and apologizing for it. I however.. really loved it. It’s not PERFECT: the narration feels not entirely necessary and the gag isn’t as funny as he thinks, though the payoff of scrooge saying “it’s time for this story to end” is fucking hilarous. I also feel it’s a bit too compressed: the story is only 16 pages and was only THAT long because Rosa added a few for exposition, a worthy addition. This feels like one of his 30 page adventure stories but slightly crammed into half the length. I also feel the golden island bit was BADLY underused as it’s such a cool setting but barely shows up in the story. 

But despite that.. it’s still a fun story: as is standard for Rosa the art is gorgeous and the humor is great. And unlike some stories where Rosa casually ignores how terrible scrooge is, here it’s his own greed and hubris that do him in: had he actually agreed to help Keoki, the boys likey would’ve let him keep the island but his own cold refusual to be a human being does him in, just as his cheapness nearly did. Flintheart is also decent here.. not the deepest foe but frankly most classical duck antagonists really aren’t all that fleshed out, and we still get some good bits with him. The dateline bit, while telegraphing that it will be important, as I said REALLY isn’t that hard to understand. All in all while i’ll agree with Rosa this isn’t his BEST, it’s still a really damn good story and one he shoudln’t be ashamed of. 

Tommorow: Green Eggs and ham is back for some train shenanigans! Kay. 

Saturday: The Tom Retrospective returns for it’s last detour! Eclipsa and Moon team up to stop meteora but grapple with diffrent wants: One to save her daughter.. the other to stop waht she clearly sees as an out of control monster. The result.. will only lead to tragedy and a hell of a two parter. 

If you liked this review consider joining my patreon, patroen.com/popculturebuffet. At as low as 2 bucks a month you get accesss to my patreon discord, exclusive reviews, and to pick a short when I do one of my shortstragavanzas, a marthon of theatrical shorts honoring a characters birthday. And given Donald’s is next month, now’s the time to get on board. 

But if you go up to 5 you get a guaranteed review of whatever you want every month, and will get me to my next milestone, which will give everyone including yourself a monthly public darkwing duck review, reviews of the two Ducktales minis’ I haven’t covered (Time is Money and SuperDuckTales) and a reivew of the Danny Phantom film the Ultimate Enemy. So please join today and if you cannot, like this review, subscribe and give me your opinions on it bellow. Or even if you can feedback is always appricated and I will see you at the next rainbow. 

#donald duck #scrooge mcduck #don rosa #ducktales #huey duck #louie duck #dewey duck #flintheart glomgold #gold #island #volcaones

[imaginesforjohnnydepp]

Surprise! (Johnny Depp x reader)

@takemepedropascal

Fall 2010

For the last three weeks you’ve been feeling sluggish and tired and your dreams at night have been more vivid, and sometimes kind of odd, but you didn’t think anything of it. You have been filming Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides with your husband Johnny for a few months so you just chalked it up to the craziness and high emotions of shooting being projected in your dreams, until you got London to finish the rest of the movie. You started your mornings by sprinting to the bathroom to throw up, so you had your assistant Vanessa go to the drug store near your hotel to buy a pregnancy test, and here you were with her in your room as she watched you pace back and forth as you waited for the timer to go off. It felt like hours, but it was only two; only three more minutes. “God, Vanessa, I don’t even know if we have time to have another child,” you panicked, shaking out your hands. You and Johnny already have two kids, your daughter Lilah-Rae who is eleven, and your son Jack who is eight.

You never talked about having a third child, or thought about it; you were sure you’d have two kids, and that was it. The both of you have so much going on that you never considered it: Johnny has movies he’s filming next year, you’re getting ready to start filming a television series after the new year. Meetings, photoshoots, parent-teacher conferences, after school activities, PTA meetings, spending all day answering emails and missed calls. It was enough to make your head spin, and imagine throwing a baby into that. “Breathe, Y/N. It’s not much longer now,” the French woman said, a little concerned.

The last time she saw you like this was when Lilah-Rae was in the hospital three years ago. If you were pregnant, you really picked the worst time ever; you had a few months until filming wrapped, then you’d have costume meetings and fittings for your new television character after Thanksgiving, and once the holidays were over, you’d start filming after New Year’s, AND in the middle of filming, you’d have to do a press tour for On Stranger Tides, THEN go back to filming your show. Where does a baby fit in all of this? Finally the timer went off and you practically jumped through the roof with how nervous you were. You peeked at the test and almost hit your head on the sink.

It was positive. Vanessa came into the bathroom to see what was taking you so long; she found you covering your mouth with silent tears running down your face. “Is that a happy cry face, sad cry face?” she asked nervously. “I’m having a baby,” you choked out; you knew you were ready for another baby, you’d figure out the rest of the details later. The two of you were crying and hugging and jumping up and down, trying to figure out a way to tell Johnny, who was due back from set any minute. 

“Okay, I’ll tell him over dinner, I’ll order his favorite!” Your hotel had a crab bisque that Johnny had on your first night in London and immediately declared it his favorite. You ordered it so it would be ready probably as soon as he was in for a few minutes and you tried to keep yourself busy until then, watching tv, answering emails and phone calls, reading, anything you could think of until you heard his room key activating the lock. “Y/N, baby? You here?” You immediately perked up, getting out of bed to greet him.

He had a bouquet of your favorite flowers and snacks, something he did whenever you weren’t feeling well. “Are you feeling better now?” Johnny pulled you to him, hugging you. “You know you really scared the shit out of me yesterday.” You had collapsed on set yesterday in the middle of a scene, so Rob gave you the week off to recover and you would reshoot your scenes as soon as you’re able to. 

Of course you passing out on set made the top story of the entertainment news and the rumors were automatically going around about what caused it. “Much better now. And I have some… news.” Just because you thought the baby was good news didn’t mean that your husband might think so, and while the two of you never brought up the topic of more kids, he never said he didn’t want more kids. “News? What kind of news?” Johnny looked worried, and he probably thought you were going to tell him that you were maybe dying.

“It depends… Johnny, I’m pregnant.” Immediately he began kissing your face, your lips, his hand going straight to your stomach; he knelt down and began kissing your stomach. He pulled you into his lap as you landed on the sofa. “You really think we can handle another kid now? We have so much to do in the next few months. We have Thanksgiving in Kentucky, then Christmas with my mom and sister, and then right after New Year’s I start my show, then award show season, press… it’s so much---” “Y/N, slow down, we’ll figure it out, breathe. Maybe this is a sign that we need to slow down.”

Slowing down, that did seem nice. Your family’s been on the go so much this past year, traveling with the kids, promoting films, family drama with your dad and his side of the family. “Yeah, we really could slow down a little. Maybe this pregnancy can be something that’s just for us and our friends. We don’t tell the press, we don’t tell my dad, we can do this the right way, Johnny.” Your first two pregnancies had been hell thanks to your dad and older brother and sister blabbing to tabloids. You felt like some kind of animal on display at a zoo with the way the paparazzi photographed your every move.

You and Johnny had worked so hard at keeping your relationship and your kids’ lives private so they could have some semblance of a normal life; they were never on red carpets, and you didn’t live in Bel Air or Beverly Hills but instead lived in a city an hour away from Los Angeles where there weren’t any paparazzi so Lilah-Rae and Jack weren’t photographed very often. You only stepped foot in LA when it was necessary. You wanted this pregnancy to be different. “So you want to hide a pregnancy?” he sounded unsure.

“It’s not like it’ll be hard to do. I always wear your shirts in public, and how often do we go to LA for nonwork related stuff? We’ll only tell the people closest to us.” You and Johnny were notorious for flying under the radar, and you were practically the only celebrities not on Twitter though your assistant and manager is, and there are plenty of fan accounts dedicated to you

He saw that you were dead serious about this, and remembered what the paparazzi was like when you were pregnant with Lilah-Rae, all because your dad wanted money. “Let’s do it.”

#johnny depp imagines #johnny depp imagine #johnny depp x reader

[powerosewaterpuff]

yk so i was watching bmw (boy meets world :) ) while procrastinating an essay so oF COURSE i decided to write some more of my reverse robin au (that pertains to jason being the oldest of the batkids w/ him and dick growing up together) except fLUFF bc i cannot handle angst rn (oR cOulD I wE wiLL nEvER kNoWwwW)

oh and disclaimer there may be several medical inaccuracies so please feel free to correct me :)

jason often gets night terrors, ones that can get particularly awful when bruce goes on an overnight business trip. so one night bruce is in new york after being forced into it by lucius, with dick being adopted for some time now. dick was awake because he was having trouble sleeping, for no real particular reason in all honesty. he heard a short yell though, coming from the room next to him and he dashed over, tripping over his blanket and still gripping zitka tightly. he knew that he wasn’t supposed to fight yet, but he doesn’t really think about that as he yanked jason’s door open.

he then saw his brother laying on his side, turning back and forth, breathing heavily looking so visibly pained it was hurting dick. he rushed over to jason, his eyes darting around because he just didn’t know what to do. taking his chances he tapped jason’s shoulder gently, and he already felt like it wasn’t the right move but he sucked it up and tried again, only this time to some result. jason shot up, gripping on tightly to dick’s arm, his eyes hazy and unfocused and his chest heaving.

dick remained still, only slowly trying to push jason off of him and back into his bed. jason’s grip didn’t let but he laid back in bed, squeezing his eyes tightly as if he was trying to push away everything he had just witnessed. dick took this as an initiative to gently climb into bed, as jason fell back into a less violent but equally as stressful sleep. he placed zitka next to jason, who still hasn’t let go of his arm, and awkwardly sat up in bed, almost acting as a protector. slowly, dick began to doze off, feeling a lot more comforted in his brothers prescence then he had been in his own room.

jason on the other hand, doesn’t remember much of that night, as he rarely fully remembers any of his night terrors (only the scars they leave behind), but when he wakes up at the ass crack of dawn with a few fragments of something he would prefer not to remember, he puts it together rather quickly. he guessed it would happen, and he could’ve told bruce and he knew the guy would drop anything in a heartbeat, but that pissed him off, more so then it justifiably should. he wasn’t a child and he hadn’t been a child for a long fucking time, and it was stupid that he couldn’t deal with a single night without bruce. jason then turned onto his side, disgruntled with a new found rage directed at himself that he might take out on someone else, when he found dick, sleeping at an awkward position.

he was leaning on the headboard, but was slumped down and drooling a bit, which would have been hilarious blackmail material on any other given day. but today, jason felt a pit in his stomach. the only rational thought that his mind could conjure in its fear muddled frenzy was please tell me i didn’t hurt dick, pleasepleasepleaseplease. he quickly checked over dick’s face, cupping his checks and looking for any signs of a bruise. he had given bruce a particularly nasty one earlier in his tenure at the manor, after bruce attempted to restrain him while he was having a night terror so he could avoid hurting himself, instead jason kicked him in the jaw. he even felt bad about it the next day, which was an odd surprise for him at the time.

after checking over dick hasilty, he could see he wasn’t all that hurt, even though if he looked hard enough he could see inklings of nail shaped markings in dick’s right arm just under his shirt sleeve. jason felt a bit of bile rising up, as he gently shifted dick into a better sleeping position, and pulled the blanket up to his chin and slipped a pillow underneath him. dick opened his bleary eyes, mumbling jason’s name in question, and squinting his eyes. jason rolled his eyes but nodded, “yeah, it’s me. now sleep–why’re you shaking yer head? you don’ wanna sleep? too bad.” jason pressed another pillow onto the side of dicks face in a teasing attempt to smother him to sleep, but dick only proceeded to giggle, and snuggle closer to jason, who had sat up already. jason tossed the pillow to the side after a few seconds of play fighting, dick was going to be too sleepy to remember this break in the ‘teasing older brother’ façade. so, he ran his hand through his little brothers hair and laid back down, tracing soft circles into dick’s scalp absentmindedly. and feeling a rush of gratitude that bruce had brought this little circus boy into his life. he really didn’t know what he would do without his little brother. (needless to say, dick became a constant comforter in jason’s night terrors).

jason blames dick for everything. if a vase got knocked over, it was a dick. if the tv wasn’t working, dick had been playing with the satellite. if his phone was missing, dick stole it to play games. if his sweater had a stain, you better bet it was dick. the boy in question, of course, adamantly denies these facts and does have a way of persuading bruce (he is the golden child after all, jason could testify to that), but bruce also knows both of his boys are annoyingly good liars. so every incident is treated like a little miniature crime scene, and it never fails to make jason howl in laughter at dick explaining how he couldn’t have possibly used up jason’s shampoo because he has his own washroom with his own shampoo and so w h y jason w h y would i steal your shampoo. (jason’s usual response is a deadpanned ‘why wouldn’t you’, and that just gives bruce another headache as the two bicker on and on and on.)

the pair of them usually go biking together, and it’s usually quite tranquil to start. until dick makes a sly comment that jason’s old bones must be so tired from cycling, so why not take a break? jason snide reponse is how the fuck are you touching the pedals with your stubby ass legs. that’s really all it takes for them to delve into a full on biking race. it never really ends well, but the two always come out rolling in laughter so whose to complain.

dick thinks real housewives of beverly hills is better then new jersey, and jason is adamant that new jersey is superior in every shape and way. the two agree that atlanta is the absolute winner no matter what though.

jason is dick’s english tutor. and it’s safe to say that it’s an experience. dick already knew a fair amount of english growing up, his father had been a wonderful teacher but it wasn’t exactly up to gotham academy standards apparently (jason knew the feeling) and his accent was still quite prevalent to have him be considered an esl kid, so jason ended up being his tutor once dick started going to english class at school and after his time with an esl instructor. jason, who has an untapped passion for literature that not many can match, is absolutely dedicated to teaching dick, because fuck man this is genius! genius, dick! and dick isn’t exactly a fan, but he does secretly think jason should be a teacher, he’s better then any of the teachers he’s had that’s for sure (his father would’ve really loved jason too, that was also for sure). and dick is considering buying him a little briefcase with his little initials on it. ((it happens, and jason tries really really hard not to cry))

bruce is absolutely that parent that secretly takes pictures of every single moment possible. he isn’t a photographer, in any sense, but he likes to capture natural moments, and he has a series of pictures dedicated to the one trip him and the boys took to Barbados where he started this habit. he wasn’t and still isn’t a big fan of beaches, they’re hot, crowded and just too much for bruce to feel any kind of comfortable in. he remembers sitting under a floppy beach umbrella, feeling the knot in his chest sit heavily on his heart, fire ants scurrying across the underlining of his skin, burning under the side stares of those passing by. it wasn’t until he caught a glimpse of dick riding on jason’s little shoulders, as they trotted around waist deep in the clear ocean water, that the fist squeezing his heart like the rotten fruit it was began to ease. he glanced down at the camera that alfred had subtly slipped into their bag after dicks insistence, and lifted it up to fiddle with it slightly. then raised it up to take a swift picture. capturing jason mid laughter as he leaned back, in a joking attempt to shake dick off who was in the middle of a yelp but had entrenched his hands in jason’s mop of curly hair. it was hilarious imperfect, but bruce would not want it any other way. not at all.

(jason found it once. he saw the picture at the corner of his eye sitting by the keyboard of the ‘Batcomputer’ ((dick was so shitty with names, thank god he didn’t come up with flippy man as his code name )), and he hesitated for a moment before hastily grabbing it. examining it with an unexpected amount of gentleness, he rubbed his thumb against the glass above dick’s hands in his hair and felt something snake around his heart. slowly and methodically seeping into it until he felt like he couldn’t fucking breathe. then he heard damian trotting down the stairs as he explained the details of his anthropology class to dick who was hopping down behind him. jason shoves the picture back and grits his teeth together to ignore the sting that was absolutely not in his eyes)

aAAAND THATS ALL!! i’ve had these in my notes for a while so it’s relief to get them out there hehe so i really hope y’all enjoy ive legit been falling in love with this reverse au bC THERE IS SO MUCH POTENTIAL U G H IVE NEVER BEEN EXCITED TO WRITE SHIT UNTIL NOW SO Y A Y FOR INSPIRATION

Y A Y :)

#reverse robin au #reverse robins #big brother jason #jason todd #dick grayson #bruce wayne #good dad! bruce #bruce is a good dad #oK?? SUE ME HE IS FUCK CANON #dcu #robin #brothers #they are such dorks #and idiots #bUT THEY ALL LOVE EACH OTHER SO MUCH LIKE IDGAF HOW MUCH JASON WANTS TO PRETEND DICK IS HIS BROTHER AND HE LOVES HIM NO MATTER WHAT UNIVERSE #OK??? OK #fluff #i promise i can write fluff #i wrote this at 2am #again #hence the spelling mistakes so please excuse those :) #this is angsty yall #ish #maybe #ITS DEPENDS ON HOW U VIEW IT OK?? #batman #:) #this is fine i’m totally not procrastinating and writing dc headcanons to compensate :))) #also #headcanon

[thadelightfulone]

All I Want... 25 Days of Christmas Challenge, Day 24

December 26th

DeeDee woke up and stretched her arms out. She sat up and looked around at her settings. She was in her bed and could smell him all around her. DeeDee looked down at her hoodie and inhaled. The last thing she remembered was talking to Erik and crying into his chest. 

“Oh my god,” she closed her eyes. She sniffed the hoodie again, “Well, that didn’t go as planned.”

DeeDee went to her bathroom and freshened up. She walked to the kitchen and suddenly stopped.

“Good morning Beautiful.” He put his cup down as he greeted her.

“Erik,” she drew out. “You’re still here?”

“I couldn’t leave you like that.” He walked up to her, “You cried yourself to sleep in my arms. So, I put you in your room and stayed out here last night.” 

He pointed at her couch. She could see the neat pile of blankets and pillows stacked on one end.

DeeDee looked at him, he was dressed in suit pants, an open button up shirt and an undone tie around his collar. She reached up and buttoned up his shirt.

“Thank you,” she spoke softly, “for everything.”

“Thank you for talking to me.” Erik grabbed her hands in his and kissed her knuckles, “I really like you, too.” 

She giggled and lowered her eyes, “I do like you, you know. I just need time to think about things.”

“Take all the time you need. I know you like me and I will hold that knowledge with me as I leave today.”

“You’re leaving already?”

“Yeah, I gotta go back and close out the year for the Centers.” He lowered their hands, “You know you can come visit me whenever. Just let me know and I got you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he leaned over and kissed her. “I hate to greet you and run, but I have a flight to catch.”

DeeDee sighed. “And I have brunch with the girls today,” she pouted. 

“Are you ready for that?”

“No, but I need to handle it now before it gets worse.”

“Come here.” 

DeeDee stepped closer to him. Erik wrapped his arms around her waist, pulled her closer and kissed her again. She reached up around his neck and deepened the kiss. They stayed in that embrace until she pulled back.

“I’m going to need all of that to get through it.”

“Take as much as you want. I got more to give.” He pecked her all over her face.

“Don’t mind if I do?” She tilted his head down towards her.

DeeDee giggled into the kiss as Erik nibbled on her lips.

---

DeeDee parked her car and held onto the steering wheel. Erik wouldn’t let her follow him to the airport, so they said their goodbyes at her place. Now, she was sitting in the restaurant parking lot, getting up the nerve to face her so-called friends. She said a short prayer and got out of the car.

Beverly and Phyllis were already seated at their usual table. They stood up and she waved them off. She sat down and no one said anything. DeeDee ordered some hot peppermint tea.

All three just looked at one another. Phyllis picked up her drink and took a sip. 

“We heard about the job.” Beverly opened up the conversation.

“You’re taking it right?” Phyllis asked. 

“I don’t know yet. I’ve been thinking about my future and where I see myself.”  

“Okay and that means what?” 

“You can’t possibly mean Erik?” Phyllis scoffed at her.

“Why would you say that?” 

“Oh, it’s not that there’s anything wrong with him. But do you really think you are a good match for him?”

“Excuse me?” DeeDee glared at Phyllis.

“Look Dee, we never thought you would find the person behind the letter. Let alone meet him in person.” Beverly calmly replied.

“You told me to go after the guy since his words had such a profound effect on me, and now, he’s too good for me?” DeeDee looked between them both and pointed at Phyllis. “You were the one who sent the email for me. And since then, you have been acting really fucking weird and I just don’t get it.” 

“Dee we love you, but -” Beverly started.

“You maybe, but not her.” DeeDee rolled her eyes at Phyllis.

“But you’ve never really let yourself connect with anyone before.” Beverly continued.

“I was focused on school and making sure I finished.”  

“So, we figured this was a good push in the right direction.” Beverly shrugged. 

“You’re joking, right?”

Beverly looked down and Phyllis sipped her drink. 

“You were supposed to become more open to building a relationship with someone here.” Phyllis mumbled.

“Wow!” DeeDee sat back, “That still doesn’t explain anything that Phyll has done in the past month.” She scooted her chair in Phyllis’ direction, “What’s up?”

“Nothing.”

“You really expect me to believe that?” 

DeeDee put her hand up to stop them both from interrupting her.

“I miss one monthly brunch and you cussed me out. You continue to push Brandon on me which is fucking disgusting especially after I told you I wasn’t interested in him. And then I have no idea how to explain that fuckshit you tried yesterday.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Explain yourself.”

No one spoke up.  

“I don’t have all day.” DeeDee stirred her tea and took a sip. “You know why and how you’ve been acting the way you have. And let’s be honest, it has nothing to do with me and Erik.”

“She’s afraid you’re gonna leave us.” Beverly softly spoke up.

“So, she acts like a complete bitch to me? She brings Brandon to our family Christmas knowing that I would bring Erik?” DeeDee stared at them, “All of this was to get me to stay. In what world?”

“I didn’t know you would bring him.” 

“Save it Phyll. Bev has asked you to come for years and then you finally popped up. It’s not a fucking coincidence.” DeeDee took another sip of her tea. “I have only ever wanted your support while I worked towards my career goals. You know the same unwavering support I gave the both of you.” 

“DeeDee, come on.” Beverly said.

“No Bev, you two should be happy for me. Not just professionally but personally.” She gathered her jacket and purse. “It’s ok though. I honestly don’t care anymore.” DeeDee sighed, “Bev, I love you cause we’re family and you have held this crapshoot of a friendship together far longer than necessary. But I’m done.”

“Done?”

“Yes, done. This friendship is a wrap. I need to focus on my next moves and I don’t need the added stress from my friends,” she put air-quotes around friend, “trying to sabotage or annoy me at every turn. I can’t deal with that and the two of you.” She stood up and signaled for Beverly to stand, “See you at the next family event.” 

DeeDee hugged her then looked at Phyllis.

“If I never see you again, it’ll be too soon.” 

She turned and left them frowning at the table. 

---

DeeDee sat in her car and took a deep breath. She pulled her phone from her purse and looked at the time. Erik should be in the air now. Which means she can’t call him yet. 

“Damnit,” She tapped her nails on the top of the steering wheel.  

She turned the key in the ignition when her phone rang. DeeDee turned the phone over and accepted the call. 

“Hello.” 

“Hello, may I speak with Deidre Chabert.” 

“Speaking.” 

“Hi, this is Dean Stephanie Porter from University of California, San Diego. Do you have a minute?” 

“Dr. Porter, yes, I remember meeting you.” DeeDee paused and exhaled, “Uhhh, yes, I can speak.”

“Great, I’ll keep this short, but we wanted to let you know we were very impressed with you during your visit last month. Your research aligns with what is already being completed here and we would love to add you to the faculty of our Chemistry department here.” 

Deedee pulled the phone away and silently screamed. 

“Really?” She rushed into the phone. 

“Yes, I will be sending over the formal offer, so you can look it over and make your final decision. But we would really love for you to join us in the new academic year.” 

“Thank you so much, Dr. Porter. I will let you know what I decide.” 

“Great, I look forward to hearing from you DeeDee.”   

DeeDee hung up the phone and cried. 

Taglist: @teakturn​ @ghostfacekill-monger​ @shaekingshitup​ @nahimjustfeelingit-writes​ @woahitslucyylu​ @ladymac82​ @bugngiz​ @eyeknowmywrites​ @ajspencer1892​ @arafatih​ @issimplyaamazinggg​ @tchallasbabymama​ @killmonger-fics​ @beautifullmelodyxx​ @raysunshine78​ @fd-writes​ @ljstraightnochaser​ @just-peachee​ @kaleidoscopeofsoul​ @sincerelykas​

#25 days of christmas challenge #erik killmonger x oc #black panther fanfiction #bp christmas #all i want #thadelightfulone

[beauregard-s]

Verdigris | Bill Denbrough

Pairing: Bill Denbrough x Reader (18 yo in this one)

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: language, mild hate-to-love trope and mentions of cheating and toxic relationship

A/n: ‘The one with Baseball Player!Bill and the song Verdigris by Gus Dapperton’

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He can’t stop watching you. 

At the bowling alley on a Friday night. Your arms crossed, a hidden smile on as one of your friends rolls the ball and misses the pins miserably. You probably had a night off, or else you’d be at the arcade trying to tame the thirteen-year-olds that keep fighting over the Pac-Man machine. 

Bill can’t stop staring and it’s annoying beyond belief.

“For fuck’s sake, Bill! Are you playing or not?”

He’s forced to drag his attention away from you under Richie’s hiss only to perceive how everybody is staring at him - except for Ben checking on his shoelaces after tripping on them at least twice already. The looks range from Richie’s pissed one, to Mike, Beverly, and Eddie’s confusion, and laying on Stan’s impassivity.

“I just puh-played two rounds ago, Richie, stop m-mah-messing the order,” he complains, yes, but stepping up and grabbing himself a ball is the same as calling his own bullshit.

His move is absent anyway, only hits three pins because he backs off as soon as the ball leaves his fingers, making room for Ben to go next. Standing more in the back so he can turn his head in your lane’s direction again, all the way across the alley.

Only in time to watch you striking for the second time that night.

Only in time to catch how your eyes automatically fly in his direction right after that.

It’s quick, just a few seconds before you turn away again like at school two - or three? - weeks before, when you shouted out loud in a hallway about how you were cheated on, a thing many girls would hide, never talk about and pray for it to never come up. But you didn’t. When Henry Bowers leaned by your locker and probably tried to slide in some smug explanation, you shut the metal door so loud people around turned their heads and others who didn’t hear it from the first time caught on what was happening as soon as you told him to go ‘get his dick wet with Anna Thompson from now on’.

That being said you stormed out, and your eyes met his because he was frozen in a trance not perceiving at first he was blocking your way.

He couldn’t call you a bully, but nor could he call you an angel. You were Bowers’ girlfriend for quite a while, never messed with him but was never smooth either. You always stood neutral about Bowers tormenting him, almost bored, he noticed. Maybe uncomfortable with the situation if he overthought on that?

Never mattered. Bill recognizes he doesn’t know much about you, never got interested in doing so. Never needed to. You are just y/n, Henry Bowers’ blessed girl - because, thinking about it, yes, someone must be somehow holy to endure that one. Y/n, who he thought that barely minded him but still locked eyes and seemed to flash him a very inconspicuous smile that brought him back to Earth and made him move aside to let you walk into your 6th period class.

Y/n that since then started to hover above him like a little bird of prey, keeping those secretly mischievous eyes on him whenever they shared the room. Driving him insanely curious to find out what all of this is about.

“I swear to God, Big Bill!” Richie cries out in frustration, clapping his hands together in a desperate try to get his attention, “it’s your turn again!”

***

“Homealone again?” Stan asks while buckling up on the driver's seat after leaving the alley almost forcefully when the place closed, Mike’s horn breaking the late-night silence as he leaves to take Ben and Bev home.

“Yeah, for the weekend.” Bill sighs, sinking into the seat and smirking. “Why? Wanna throw a p-party?”

Stan snorts in the dark, turning the keys for the headlights to break through the darkness ahead. “Not after the last one,” he starts the car and leaves while Bill recalls the last party they went to. The party where around 1 am everybody started gossiping about how someone entered a room without knocking and... 

“Y/n l/n, then?”

Bill moves uncomfortably. Of course, the party where everybody found out you were cheated on before you could do it yourself. Stan Uris really sees everything, knows everything, and perceives everything. And also have the gift of smoothly leading people into the point he wants to get to.

“I don’t think so,” Bill says. 

Stan swirls the steering wheel to the left into a quiet street, suffocating another laugh. “So you’re telling me you were not perving on her the whole night.”

“I wasn’t p-puh-p-perving!”

“No!” Stan’s laugh finally comes filled up with irony. “At the bowling alley, at school, whenever she shows up during practices and her great presence disturbs you to the point you miss the pitches… Since she broke up with Bowers, whenever she’s around your mind goes wasted”. Bill grimaces and he goes on. “And judging by tonight, she seems to be at the same place as you are.”

“She’s not at the same p-place as I am because I’m not at any p-place, Stan.” Bill sticks his arm out of the window into the cold breeze, feeling something boiling inside him. That annoyance again. “She’s been teasing me since she broke up with her dear b-boyfriend, it’s all.”

Stan slows down at a crossing, making a snap noise with his tongue. “How convenient, no?” Bill scowls, eyes off the road to look up at his slightly raised brows, and he goes on, “Bowers’ girl gets cheated on and then starts flirting with you, Bill Denbrough. The guy who had his lip split open by those fists more times than we could actually remember.”

“Tell me about it…” Bill’s voice barely comes out as he watches the stores slowly turning into houses with dark windows and faded front porches, trying to smother that burning feeling inside. 

“And you’re playing her game,” Stan adds calmly.

Bill snaps his neck towards the driver's seat again but Stan only shows that same impassivity from earlier, eyes solely on the road. “Don’t tell me you’re not, because you are. I saw it tonight. Besides it, we all know you’re that sucker for unbecoming stuff.”

Bill shakes his head, gnawing on his cheek in bitterness as the car stops in front of a two-floor house and Stan turns the keys, sending them into silence and darkness again, turning on his seat to face a skeptical Bill unclasping his seatbelt harshly.

“I am not. I wanna f-find out what game is she p-playing b-but I’m not playing it myself.”

“Okay,” Stan taps onto the wheel, grinning in his disbelief because he knows Bill well enough to know he may sound like he has his foot down when he’s in fact as unsteady as sand. “But she could put you in big shit trouble, you know?”

Bill gets out of the car, leaning into the window as soon as he closes the door, drawing a cockish grin. “Yeah b-but, again, I’m not playing her game, Stan.”

He assured himself that, even though his mind wanders towards you until he goes to sleep and even though you remain there when he wakes up Saturday morning. 

He’s not playing your game.

But you’ve been testing his limits, slowly getting under his skin somehow with so little effort. Catching his attention when he doesn’t want to give it to you. You’re guaranteed trouble and he hates how you leave him restless whenever you are out of his sight and trouble his mind whenever you are both sharing space.

But he’s not playing your game.

Yet he still finds himself waiting outside the arcade later at night, at a discreet distance with his hands tucked in his jacket’s pockets to keep them from freezing under the fall weather. Bill watches you leading the last kids outta the place, promising an upset little guy they’ll be open early the next day too and turning the sign hanging on the glass door as soon as they leave to warn everyone the place is finally closed. The sweet way you talked to the kid doesn’t match the troublemaker image he painted of you in his mind throughout the day.

He’s not playing the game, but he’s ending it before he goes insane. Being a chess piece is not on his plans. He doesn’t know where you’re going with all of that so he walks into the store, immediately catching your attention.

You’re checking and closing the cashier when the noise makes you look up from behind the counter only to find the surprisingly-not-so-popular pitcher of the Derry High School’s baseball team standing there in between the flashing machines. 

“Hey there, Denbrough,” you say softly, bringing your attention back to the dollar bills. “We’re closed.”

He taps his foot, trying to find the words to say what he wants to say because even though he planned talking to you the whole day, suddenly he feels lost and vulnerable under that nonchalant way of yours. 

“I know, I didn’t come to play.” Bill feels proud of how steady he sounds although he’s clenching his hidden fists. He has the slight impression you are not as confused as you seem when you eye him again. This time deeper. 

“How can I help you then?” 

He thought he had a solid plan, but he doesn’t at all. All he can think of is how did Bowers get you? A straight A’s girl with such sweet talk, pretty face, and bold demeanors. 

“You can help me by stopping m-messing around.” There goes his steadiness through the window, every single drop of it when your lips give him a lopsided smile, closing the cashier and pulling a bunch of keys out of a drawer.

“And what do you mean by messing around?” you walk around the counter and passing by him because even though Bill Denbrough is standing in front of you straight out of a dream in his stupid letterman jacket, a robbery wouldn’t be welcome and you gotta lock the doors and close the curtains. That blocks all the light from the outside, sending both of you into a gloom only lightened by the neon lights around. 

“I mean all the flirting you’re doing.” His voice deepens a tone. “ I want you to stop it.”

He looks adorably anxious, of course. All fidgety when he’s trying to confront you that way but flinching when you turn on your heels to face him, his hands still in his pockets for what? Hide his nervous manners?

Not that you’re that secure yourself with your sped up heart. You wish you had pockets too so you could hide how you poke a cuticle on your thumb.

“I’m not flirting with you,” you say simply. “I know you’d like that, but-“

“You wish, l/n” he hisses and you know you’ve hit a weak spot. Also not that you didn’t know said weak spot exists.

“I know what you’re doing, and I’m not getting in trouble for it.” Bill steps closer, letting his sweaty hands finally fall to his sides. 

“Again, I’m not the one messing around” You see his jaw clench, and go on leaning back against the Donkey Kong machine. “You are.”

Bill snorts and the way he runs his fingers through his auburn hair messing it in frustration makes things to you. Yes, Bill Denbrough in his lettermen jacket is stupid… stupidly hot, even if you hate admitting that.

“I’m n-not-“

“Are you sure?” You defy him, resting your hands on the machine and accidentally hitting the joystick. “So you’re telling me you’ve not been leering me around, casually hanging out with your friends by my locker or… Following my ex-boyfriend around to make sure he’s not coming close to me, Bill?”

Touché. 

You never called him ‘Bill’ before, but thought it would match the soft-turn your voice takes and the little ‘got you’ move you just made. Bill thinks it raises a level. He said he didn’t come to play, but it feels like he did and now he’s losing because you know something you shouldn’t. 

You know last Tuesday he followed Patrick Hockstetter’s car because he saw them harassing you when you were walking home after school. He watched when they pulled over by the sidewalk, Bowers leaning out through the window and saying something that made you argue with him for a while before you kept walking and they drove out. Bill should’ve turned right and drive home, but he turned left and followed them instead, made sure they went home and not after you. 

“I was just trying to m-muh-make sure you were safe,” he reasons but inside he’s recognizing his failure.

Maybe you’ll call him a creeper for that? No, you just bat your eyelashes.

“You really have an unforgiving hero complex.”

“I don’t have a hero complex.”

He does. And maybe an unforgiving crush too because he realizes you’re not the one hovering here. He is. He always thought he never paid attention to you but he did all the time in the deep of his head, dreary by the fact that you ended up with someone like that disgusting jerk.

“A hero complex and a huge neglect towards yourself, apparently” you bicker, the changes in his mind showing briefly in his expression.

“Okay, I m-may be the one m-messing around but you don’t seem like you’re trying to run from it.”

The others have already warned Bill about that, his lack of fear and his broken anti dumbness filter, mainly Beverly, but there he is again. Making dangerous, uncalculated moves, totally improvising his next step to avoid a checkmate from you.

He’s kinda angry, maybe embarrassed, eyes locked on your as he comes closer. You don’t answer because he got a point. From the moment you noticed Bill paying more attention to you after you were publicly free from Henry, you never intended on cutting him off. You fed the fire and now, with his eyes so deep in yours and the smell of his cologne all around you, you let him taste a bit of power to decrease that embarrassment of his. 

“Are you trying to imply that I want you too?” You whisper, no need to talk louder with his chest an inch from yours like that. 

He likes how beautiful you look like that, face shining in verdigris tones flashing from the next machine, the way it turns you into neon pink and back to the blueish-green. He likes how daring you look even if he’s towering over you, inches taller, little knowing how you’re putting on a fight to keep yourself solid and your thoughts in place. Without much success when he leans in and brushes his chapped lips along your soft ones.

“Again, you wish, l/n.”

The previous moves were yours but in a turn, you’re the one getting the final checkmate when you give in and pull him into a kiss. A greedy and heated kiss that showed how you’ve been craving each other. Bill presses against you as he’s trying to challenge the laws of physics, his tongue licking into your mouth as your hands clutch on his thick jacket, feeling his broad shoulders underneath. His hands cup your face, his thumbs gently tracing up your cheekbones in contrast to how roughly his lips take yours, only for a moment before his arms embrace your waist and he smugly slides a large hand into your jeans’ pockets.

He swore himself he wouldn’t play your game, but he feels like he did and just lost it when he leaves your lips and trails the tip of his nose down your neck, feeling how you softly quiver in his arms, breathing in your perfume. Pulling away before everything goes to waste.

“As I said, totally n-not running away from me,” he mutters, leaving you. 

You shake your head slowly, a mazy little smile glued on your lips. “Screw you, Denbrough…” But the words drip out like honey to him as he walks backwards towards the door. 

Bill turns the keys still in the lock behind his back, flashing a cocky grin at you as he pushes the door open. He feels defeated, you do too but somehow none of you regret what just happened in the empty arcade. He can see you don't by the way you look at him as he leaves. It’s not just one of those glances anymore.

He feels defeated, but maybe it will be worth it.

“S-see you later, y/n.”

#bill denbrough #bill denbrough x reader #bill denbrough imagine #bill denbrough fic #bill denbrough fanfic #bill denbrough fanfiction #it #it imagine #it fic #it fanfiction #it fanfic #the losers club #the losers club imagine #the losers club fic #the losers club fanfic #the losers club fanfiction #the losers club x reader #beauregardwrites

[ames-69]

Maggie tozier was ecstatic when her 4 year old Richie came home from his first day of kindergarten absolutely gushing about his new friend. Richie had struggled to make friends in the multiple mommy-and-toddler classes that Maggie had enrolled them in, and even while playing in the park seemed to be on his own. But he seemed content with it so Maggie and her husband Wentworth let him be, just hoping he would finally make a few friends in kindergarten, which he did.

Over the next while she learned a lot about his friend, she now knew was called eddie, but Richie seemed to prefer to call him ‘eds’. He had “ass ma” and had to carry around a special blue thingy to help him breath richie told her solemnly. In fact, eddie carried around a lot of things, according to Richie. He had a little bag he wore around his waist, which he never took of - not even at nap time, much to his teachers annoyance. Eddie alway washed his hands before eating or after playing outside and always made sure Richie did the same. At least Maggie know knew her son was at least slightly hygienic. But eddie was as adventurous as he was careful. The boy had been at the toziers house enough times now for Maggie to see his craziness along with their other friends, bill denbrough and Stanley uris - both of them were good friends of richies, but not as good as eddie. Maggie once wondered to herself if eddie had so much energy because he didn’t get to act like this at home. She had met Sonia kaspbrak and quite frankly did not like her. That was the day she swore to herself eddie was always welcome at her home.

The four liked to play pretend games. One of their favourites was ‘the clown game’ were there was an evil clown they had to kill. Maggie wasn’t sure where they came up with this stuff, but it was amusing to watch them shoot at the thin air with their imaginary guns nonetheless. Once or twice richie had told Maggie he was gonna marry his eds one day. Maggie just smiled and nodded and said “I’m sure you will sweetie.” Maybe that was when she knew.

By the time the boys were in sixth grade, eddie had spent more time at the toziers house than Maggie could count. At least twice a week he stayed for dinner and by this stage had his own make shift bed on richies floor - if Maggie noticed it looked like it hadn’t been slept in some nights, she didn’t say anything. But she didn’t mind, she adored the boy, he was always welcome at the toziers and he knew it. He was good for her son.

Richie had always been witty, with his attempts at accents and whimsical remarks. He teased his friends often, including his new friends, Ben and Beverly who he’d met over the summer of ‘89. (Maggie at first was worried about Richie hanging around a girl but soon realised that she really was just a friend and relaxed, happy he was indeed making new friends.) He teased them all, but not as much as he did eddie. And the way he teased Eddie was different, but in a kind of good way that was hard to put into words. Maggie could tell there was no malice in her sons words and actions. Toward any of them for that matter. The pair had also become alot more physically affectionate, though then again, they always had been. As kids they often held hands and hugged. One was never seen with out the other. Oh, the tantrums Maggie dealt with when it was home time. Now they did that along with cuddling during movie nights and eddie always tucked away under Richie’s gangly arms. Maybe that was when she knew.

When they were 15, richie asked could he go to his first school dance. Maggie was fearful at first, fearful that her little baby was growing up, but he reassured her he was only going because “eddie w- everybody else wants to” Maggie struggled to fight of the smile that was trying to creep onto her face. So she told him yes, he could go.

She tried to argue with him to get a tux, but he refused, instead opting to wear his black Sunday slacks and a tee shirts with a tie printed on it much to Maggies dismay.

Richie and his friends had made plans to meet up at the toziers house at 6pm on the night of the dance as it was closest to the school, but when Maggie heard a knock on the front door at 5pm, she wasn’t surprised.

“Hello, eddie dear” she greeted as she let the small boy inside.

“Hi, mrs. T” He had always refused to call her anything else, even though she had insisted years ago they all call her Maggie. She found it cute.

Eddie was wearing a light blue suit, similar to the one richie wore to stans bar mitzvah. She didn’t miss the way richie stared at him a little too long, the same look wentworth had when he looked at her in his eyes. The two boys soon disappeared up the stairs to most likely read comics. At 6pm, the others began arriving. A new face had joined the little gang a couple years ago. Mike Hanlon. He was a nice kid, just like all richies friends. After a couple - well more than a couple - photos, the clique hopped on their bikes that had been tossed aside on the toziers lawn and began cycling towards the school. Maggie smiled at the kind of dead looking flower she recognised from the neighbouring garden in eddies breast pocket that definitely hadn’t been there was he arrived an hour before. Maybe that was when she knew.

When richie was 17, Maggie tozier walked into her sons room to see him curled in a ball in the middle of his bed. Occasionally he let out little whimpers and curled up tighter. If Maggie tozier hadn’t known heartbreak before, she knew it now. He looked so small and helpless, she wanted nothing more than to take all of her sons pain away. That was what a mother was meant to do, right? She had a sinking feeling she already knew what this was about. Richie hadn’t mentioned eddie in a couple days and eddie hadn’t visited in over a week now, and this was highly unusual. The last time this happened they were 12 and had fought over something small and unimportant that Maggie couldn’t recall now. But even that hadn’t lasted this long. Silently, Maggie walked over to the bed and sat down, placing a loving hand on her sons back and gently began rubbing it. “It’s okay” she cooed over and over, eventually calming him enough for him to tell her what was wrong.

“We.. we had a fight..” he sniffed. Maggie just nodded and began petting his head which was now laying in her lap. She didn’t need to ask who he was referring to.

“He told me that.. that he liked m-me as more than a.. a friend and i j-just sorta looked at him.. then.. then ran a-away” and with that he dissolved into tears again. Now Maggie spoke, her voice quite and caring.

“You don’t need to be scared rich, if that’s what’s wrong. Ive always known, and I’ve always loved you - and him.” She looked down at him, but he was staring at the dresser in front of him. She continued. “Right from yous were kids, I’ve always known yous would end up together. You know, you told me you were gonna marry him one day. And by god richie, i hope you do. That boys the best damn thing to happen to you. Now please, go get him. I cant stand seeing you like this. And I’m sure he’s just as broken.”

Richie finally sat up. He eyeballed her for a couple seconds. “Really?” His voice was so fragile. Maggie had never in his seventeen years of life seen him like this. It killed her.

“Really” she assured him. “Yous are made for each other”

He smiled before quickly springing off of his bed and into the bathroom. Maggie heard the water run as he washed his face. She fixed the bed and laid out a fresh hoodie and jeans for him, then hastily ran to her and Went’s room. She riffled through her bag and eventually found her car keys, then went to wait in the living room. About 10 minutes later richie arrived down stairs. His eyes were still red and puffy and his hair was messy, but the shine in his eyes and returned and Maggie smiled. He went to go out the back to retrieve his bike, but she stopped him.

“Take the car” she said simply and handed him the keys. He smiled widely at her, before she shooed him out with a final “go get him.” If she didn’t know before, she knew now.

#reddie oneshot #reddie headcannon #reddie #eddie x richie #beep beep richie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #stanley uris #bill denbrough #beverly marsh #ben hanscom #mike hanlon #pennywise #it 2019 #it 2017 #reddie fic

[haderpjs]

after the first visit to the neibolt house when Eddie broke his arm and Sonia forbade him from going outside and hanging out with the losers (he did get out  when he had to go for his placebos or whatever Sonia needed him to get, those times it was ok if Eddie went outside) Richie called the Kaspbrak’s residence that night asking how was Eddie doing but Sonia told him not to bother his precious little son because he was too weak to even answer the phone and his arm must be hurting so badly thanks to all of them little monsters and hung up.

So after three days of knowing absolutely nothing from Eddie (Bill probably knew something, Sonia actually tolerated the Denbrough family, but Bill and Richie weren't in speaking terms) he decided sneaking out of his house at night to go to Eddie’s backyard and throw little rocks to Eddie's window.

-what the hell are you doing here Richie?!

-well Eds I was on my way home from a very successful date with a pretty girl *wink* when I remember to check on you

-yeah sure, says Eddie rolling his eyes like if you had any girlfriend. stop throwing pebbles at my window I already opened it, you will wake up my mom! Why did you come?

-Told you already, I- I came to see how you’re doing

- I’m- ... I, thank you I feel better, the pain is tolerable now, but my arm still hurts sometimes when I try to move it like I normally do and I shouldn't but I keep forgetting my arm is fucking broken and this cast is itchy as hell

that night Richie didn’t climb all the way to Eddie’s room, there was a tree close enough to Eddie’s window and Richie settled on one branch

the they just talked for a while, about how the losers weren’t speaking to each other, about the clown and about how they didn’t want to come back there ever again, they loved Bill and would follow him to the end of the world but there was no way Georgie would be still alive if he encountered that monster. Eddie complained about Sonia keeping him home bound and treating him like a baby.

Richie didn’t come back to Eddie’s the next day, but the day after he did, and he climbed Eddie’s window for the first time.

-Oh my god Richie!, I can’t believe you just jumped from a tree to get inside my room, I told you not to!, but you never listen, what if you didn’t grip thigh enough or what if you slipped?, huh!? you would have ended with more bones broken than me!

-Literally calm down dude!, if your mom didn’t wake up from all the mess and noises I made she sure will come to check on his little baby to see what’s causing him so much distress, so shut the fuck up

-I don’t think so, she takes pills for the insomnia, she didn’t hear you the other night

they talked and talked until they realized it was almost midnight and so Richie said goodbye, Eddie hoped Richie didn’t get in trouble with his parents for sneaking out the house at night. But he also was enjoying very much Richie’s visits. He couldn’t go and visit Bill or Stan (Sonia would never accept Bev, Ben and Mike as his friends so no wasting the time attempting to convince her that they were actually good friends) and he couldn’t tell Bill and Stan much on calls because well, Sonia might me listening and if she heard him talking about a monster clown then who knows what doctor she would take him to fix his head.

So the fact Richie was actually coming to visit him made Eddie’s heart warm (even if those visits were in secret because she can’t stand Richie’s presence on a daily basis, now that she blames them all for what happened to him, Richie would be crazy if he knocked on the front door)

One week after Richie first climbed Eddie’s window they were reading comics on Eddie’s bed, they both fell asleep curled up next to each other, it was past 2 a.m. when Richie woke up, comic long forgotten next to his right side and then he realized Eddie’s head was resting on the left side of his chest, Richie’s heart started to beat faster, he didn’t want to wake up Eddie but if he keep being in such uncomfortable position he’d have neck pain the next morning, he also didn’t want to hurt Eddie’s broken arm, but it felt nice being so close to Eddie.

Richie meant to get up and leave, but he started looking down at Eddie’s features, he looked so peaceful and cute. Some weird feeling caught in Richie’s chest, he kinda wanted to hug his friend and sleep there besides him all night. But that wasn’t right was it?, they were both boys and not even in the sleepovers they had with Bill and Stan had they slept so close to each other.

Richie knew there was nothing wrong with wanting to hug your male friend, Went taught him how boys could be affectionate with each other just like girls were with their friends, Maggie told him about how some people didn’t want to have straight but queer relationships and that what people (like most of Derry’s) said about gay people was wrong because no one should be discriminated for whom they loved, but Richie also knew Derry was a very old fashioned town, queer and black people had it very difficult there in Derry.

But why would those thoughts come to his mind right now?, I know your secret Richie! (Pennywise’s voice appeared at the back of his mind)

Well, what if he felt like huggin one of his bests friends? what if he needed to be close to the only friend willing to talk to him after nearly getting murdered at neibolt house by a demonic clown?.

He had fooled his friends pretending not to know what they were talking about that day they went to Beverly’s house. But now, after visiting that crack house Eddie and Bill pretty much knew how scared he was of the clown just as they are.

He knows why he is thinking those things right now, he knows why the clown told him not to stare at other boys, he knows why It made him lose his shit with that ‘‘missing’‘ poster and the ‘‘found’‘ sing in the coffin.

Richie fears that people like Henry Bowers will know how he’s liked when Bill’s riding Silver and he takes Richie with him and he tightly hugs Bill from behind. That they’ll know how he enjoys Eddie’s company the most, even if they spent all day bickering, Richie will make the worst jokes and annoy Eddie so much just to see him laugh and make him lose his temper because he is adorable when arguing about germs and stuff.

Richie hates that that monster knows, it knows how much Richie likes his friends, likes Eddie, the things Richie would do for all of them, for Eddie.

But they are here together and safe for now from that ugly ass clown so Richie will have what he can get. He will keep coming to Eddie’s and spending time with him while the rest of their friends decide to hang up in the clubhouse again.

And then he will keep making Eddie laugh as much as he can, because he likes to be one of the reasons Eddie enjoys his life, he knows how controlling Sonia is, and he knows that thanks to Bill, Stan and him Eddie can be free from her when he is out there with them.

Richie carefully gets up from Eddie’s bed and tries so hard not to wake him up. Then he slips his feet on his shoes and puts a blanket on Eddie. He wants to kiss Eddie’s cheek good nigh but he isn’t that brave, a kiss on the tip of his fingers that he then presses on Eddie’s forehead will do

#reddie fic #reddie #reddie ficlet #reddie headcanons #.txt

[harryhoney-bee]

Whatever you say, Miss.

You are the inspiration to the song “Carolina”

3k words.

Masterlist

It was a Saturday night, the first one Harry had free since the album was released. All he had in mind was to chill, watch a romantic movie, maybe read a little, but all his plans were rejected as soon as he received a text message call from his friend Gilland Jone.

“Hey man, up for a get-together?” – G

“When? Right now?” – H

“Yeah, it’s a pub here in LA, not too far from your place, come, it will be fun. There someone I want you to meet either” – G

“Who is the person?” – H

“Not telling you, silly. Consider this a blind date. But seriously, come, not just for the date, but for the fun, it’s Saturday night anyway”

Harry thought about that for a while, but he replied right away, wanting to know the address. What the worst that could happen?

Taking the stairs to get to the second floor, where his room was, Harry opens his closet, wearing a red flower t-shirt and skinny jeans. After that he goes immediately to his car, just stopping to grab his keys and wallet on the way.

Heading down to the pub, he starts to think to himself about the person he was about to meet. He has been on a couple of blind dates before, but they weren’t necessarily good, the girls he met before were often fangirling about him, which made him uncomfortable. All he wanted was just to be Harry, not THE Harry Styles. He was confident this night would bring this to him.

As Harry gets out of his thoughts, he realized he was already near to the pub. So, he just searches for a free parking space, finding one right in front of the pub. He locks the car and goes straight for the door. From the outside was possible to hear the loud music, the chats, and the laughs, Harry gets more excited than ever.

As he enters, all the sound gets more vivid, he sees people dancing, recognize ones, others don’t. He meets friends in the industry that he hasn’t seen in a long time, like Zack Braff. The two chat for a while but are interrupted by Gilland.

“Hi, Harry! You came!”

“I said I would, didn’t I?”

“Hey Zack, let me borrow Harry for a bit”

Then she grabs his shoulder moving him to the back of the pub, not giving time for Zack to respond.

“Harry, all the drinks tonight are on me, so make yourself at home, and don’t worry, after you got in, I asked for the security to not let anyone inside. So, there won’t be any crazy fan”

“Thanks, Gill, all that I could ask for, a night out and free drinks,” He says that with a laugh.

“But don’t drink too much sir”

“Of course, I won’t, Miss”

She just chuckles and turns his back from him, to go with her friends, but his hand on her shoulder prevents her from doing so.

“What about the blind date? Is the girl already here?”

Gill just looking around, with a questioning glance.

“She was right there,” She says pointing to the very last sit, between the wall and the bar. “She is probably in the bathroom, sit next to the sit, she must be out any minute. Now I must go, bye”.

Harry tried to stop her again, how he is going to know who the girl was? Isn’t Gill, the one who arranged everything to introduce them? But he just gives up, once she was already mixed in the crowd.

He just shrugs, and goes sit next to the sit Gill pointed, when the girl arrived, he just must introduce himself. As he sits by the bar counter and asks for a martini.

While the bartender was making the drink, somebody just takes the seat next to him, he looks at her almost instantly, she smiles at him and the bartender leaves the martini in front of Harry before he goes, the girl grabs one of the arms of the man.

“Excuse, could you make me a martini too? With a lit bit more of alcohol, please” She says while smiling

“Yeah miss, right away” And leave both strangers alone for the first time in the night.

“So, you must be Gill’s friend? Right?” He says smiling, giving his hand a shake. She retributes, shaking his hands with her tiny fingers.

“Well, I am her younger sister. You must be my blind date, Harry?” She says at the same times she drinks from her martini, that has just arrived.

“That must be me, nice to meet ya” Harry respond, looking straight at her eyes, they were beautiful, at the bottom of them were a little bit of mascara, but strangely, in her didn’t seem like a mistake or a miscue, It made her look like a warrior or something, even do she was wearing a feminine, black dress.

“I am (y/n), glad to meet you as well” (y/n) says while looking at him, damn, her sister was right, he is attractive, he smiles is beautiful, and those eyes, dammit. “Nice shirt, by the way” (y/n) continues.

“Thanks, it’s one of my favorites” and chucks. “So… extra alcohol on the martini?”

“A little bit more of alcohol won’t do any harm, plus, I am proud to say, I have a great intolerance to the boozes” (y/n) says with a cocky smile, harry just laughs.

“Well, this certainly is proud material” Harry responded, “Since you are alcohol proof, you must know a lot of drinks, so, tell me, what do you think I should ask next?”

(y/n) puts her hand on her chin, as she was thinking hard, and as she does that, she notices Harry’s eyes going directly to her mouth, and she does like this attention. “I would say, bloody Mary”

“Whatever you say, Miss” And he waves at the bartender and asks two bloody Maries.

“So, where did you meet my sister?” (y/n) says, looking at Harry, before moving to his eyes, she gives a short glance at his lips, they were so pink. She starts to think they both kissing, that would be a great end of the night.

The glance she gives Harry is not unnoticed by him, he smirks and answers her question. At the same time, the bloody Maries arrived.

“We met a long time, in one of those after parties, she got friends with me because… well, both of us like partying a lot, but I guaranty you, alcohol immune it’s not something in the DNA of you sister. ‘Cause at the end of the night I end with puke in my suit” Harry says laughing, remember the day, it’s was kind of disgusting, but the party was really good.

(y/n) laughs hard, and Harry just looks at her, she was such a pretty woman.

“Oh my God, she never told me this story! I am going to tease her for the rest of her life!” Then, she ends her untouched bloody Mary with just one sip.

Harry looks at with wide eyes.

“wow wow, easy tiger” And he pats her back slightly.

“I am okay, no worries. You are looking like that because you never see me in one of the college parties, I am worse than Ethan Hawkings, you know?”

“What are you studying in college and also, who is Ethan Hawkings?” Harry crossed his eyebrows, not knowing what she was saying, and he gives a sip of the bloody mary.

“I am studying philosophy, and Ethan it’s the character of a book I love!”

“hmm, so we got a pretty alcoholic philosopher bookworm right here,” He says and looks her deeply in her eyes, giving the gulp that ends his drink.

“I think we could say that, yeah” She giggles, reciprocating the look he gave her.

“Where do you go to college? Here in LA?”

“Yeah, I started college back in my home state, Carolina, but I just got enough of there, but I was confused, not knowing if I would be able to move from home. So, I went to my gramma and she said (y/n), better swimming before you drown, after that, I called my sister, so I move in with her, and I asked my transferring papers to the University of LA. And here I am” She said, with that cocky smile again.

“I think we can add audacious to your quality list,” Harry said, moving his sit closer to her, which (y/n) liked very much.

“My mom doesn’t think this is a quality though, she says I am the death of her with my reckless behavior. But what can I do? I am Just listening to the older and swimming before I drown”.

“I think you are right,” Harry said with a smirk.

“Hey, do you want to go out? I saw a large party going on the house of my neighbor, we could be there” (y/n) says this getting near to Harry’s mouth.

Harry gets even closer but turns the way to her ears and says with a whisper “Whatever you say, Miss”.

She jumps from the sit and goes in the direction of the door, but harry holds her arms gently “Darling, there are probably paps outside, do you mind leaving with the back door? We can get a cab or something.”

“Whatever you say, sir.”

He looks at her and just smirks.

The pair go outside by the back door and get in the first cab they can.

While getting in, (y/n) says the address to the drives, which has kind of close, in Beverly Hills. Harry got a little sad, he wouldn’t mind being with her in such a small place as the back seat of a car. They did just normal conversation and just sang along with the songs on the radio.

They got in the location and split the bill of the cab. As they got out of the car (y/n) pointed at two big white houses.

“We live in here, and there it’s my neighbor party, let’s go.” She grabbed him by the arm.

“Were you invited to this party?” Harry askes

“Nope.” (y/n) answer.

“That’s what I thought, acting like a bad girl”

“I am not a bad girl, I am audacious,” She says that on her tiptoes, facing his face. “Am I right?”

“Huh, Whatever you say, Miss” And he puts a hand on her waits, bringing her closer, she leans and just packs his lips, Harry wanted to do so much more, but before he could grab her tighter, she just went in the direction of the party. And he follows her, she had him wrapped around her finger already.

As they got into the house, (y/n) goes directly to the drinks, catching one for Harry as well. They went to sit on the couch near the pool of the house. There weren’t a lot of people in there, but the few that have didn’t seem to notice the intruders.

“I am so excited, I am feeling like one of the characters of the books I read” (y/n) says “The one I read about getting into others people’s house didn’t end well, but, fuck right?” As she says that, she puts both hands in the back of his neck, bringing their lips together.

Finally, Harry thought to himself.

When their tongues met for the first time, a shiver went through Harry’s body, he puts his hand on the back of her hips, bringer her closer. They broke the kiss to catch their air.

“Will you stay in LA when you finish college?” Harry asks, taking away the blurred lipstick from her mouth.

“Probably not, I never see myself like one of the cali girls, you know, never see myself as someone living in this part of America.”

“So where do you see yourself living?” Harry asked.

“I don’t know, everywhere?” She says giggling “What about you? Where do you see yourself living?”

“Don’t know darling, anywhere I can do my music, like Jamaica, Japan, here… But whenever I go, I know I won’t be going too long, always get to go to England to mum” He chuckles and she smiles at him, kissing again.

In the middle of the kiss hears somebody shouting, the people were doing the “Throw him in the pool” kind of prank.

“We better get out of here before someone see us,” Harry says, holding her hand.

“Yeah” She responds.

But as they were going to the house, she pushes him into the pool.

Harry falls unexpectedly, he emerges and looks at her, she had a cocky smile on her lips.

She stands in the same place, as he makes his way out of the pool, currently, everybody notices them, but they were too drunk to care.

Harry gets closer to her, she tries to run, but he grabs her firmly at her hips, he brings his lips to her ear, licking them slightly.

“So, you think it’s cool to throw people in the pool, darling?” He grabs more firmly at her hips “You are lucky you are cute”

She gives him his cocky smile again.

“Do you want to go to my place? It’s the house next door” she says, his hands still on her.

“Yeah, darling. Do you go some clothes for me to change there, though?” He says letting go of her hips, following her as she walks out of the pool area.

As he says that, she turns immediately.

“You won’t need clothes for what we are going to do there, darling. Wait here and I will get you clothes.”

“Wait where are you going? Please do not break into your neighbor or…”

But the girl was soon gone into the stairs.

Harry just stands there.

Some minutes later she gives him a simple t-shirt and men’s shorts.

“Please don’t tell me you stole this” Harry said, already knowing the answer.

“Don’t worry, he won’t notice, his closet is bigger than mine”

Harry just rolls his eyes.

“Now come on Brit boy, let me help you get out of these wet clothes” Harry does like that.

Both of them walk fast to the house next door, as (y/n) opens the door, Harry closes it fast, taking the girl in his arms and putting her against the door.

Harry goes directly to the region of her neck, sucking urgently, the girl just moans and says “Let’s go to my room yeah? It’s better, it’s the first door on the second floor”.

Harry takes on his arms, now kissing her, while going in the direction of the room, he opens the door, and puts her on the bed, staying up.

“I would love the help with the clothes now, darling, I want to make another thing wet, not your bed,” Harry says with a smirk.

He leaves a space, so she can seat, and the girl helps him taking the t-shirt, leaving it on the floor, as she goes does to his trousers, she can already see the excess of Harry’s pants, squeezing it.

As she manages to have him only on his boxers, he hovers over her. Leaving kisses on her collarbone, he leaves hickeys, to make her remember. Both now they won’t see each other again, she is just free.

“Are you gonna be a good girl for me, darling? I’ve seen the way you look at me since the put” She just moans from the kisses.

His lips are so soft, but they can be so hard. Everywhere he puts his lips left a mark on his tongue. Oh, this tongue.

He keeps kissing, this time putting his hand on her belly skin, grabbing lazily at her ribbons.

“What about taking this little dress off, darling? Do you want that?” He askes lazily, moving now to her ears, licking them unhurried.

“Yeah, please, please take off” (y/n) says between moans.

“Please, huh?” She can feel him smirking on the side of her neck.

He stops the kissing, griping at the end of the dress, he pulls it slowly, wanting to watch her body, her tights, her red panties, her belly, and oh those tits.

Her body reveals to him, and it’s just the feeling of delight.

“Such good tits, such a good body, so so beautiful”

He then starts to kiss her belly, leaving a trail of his tongue, until he meets his goes, he starts to suck firmly on her nipples. Her hands go directly to his hair. She moans, the things he can do with his mouth are marvelous.

As he sucks on her little pink nipples, he presses his tongue side to side, wanting to feel her little bud getting harder and harder each time.

He alternates to the boob, doing the same thing with the breast he left, he starts squeezing it, pinching the nipple hard.

“Yeah Harry, right here” (y/n) moans

Harry moves to her neck again, but (y/n) changes positions with him.

“Now you wanna be up huh?” Harry says with a smirk, but it disappears as she starts sucking on his neck. Her month is urgent, but her tongue is relaxed.

She wants to feel him, taste him, get him wasted.

“Huh, Darling, so good” Harry moans.

(y/n) start going down on his body, licking and kissing every singles part of his delicious torso. She makes her way until she gets to the best part, she takes his boxer off, showing her all of him. She was amazed. His cock was thick, hard, and big. She could feel the excess veins on.

(y/n) starting to touch him, first in the big head, just with her fingertips, just to spread the pre-cum.

“You are so big, so tick, can already imagine you feeling me in with every inch, Harry. You will feel so good” She says that leaking his neck.

Harry can’t say anything, he wants to feel her, wants to feel her hand, her mouth, her cunt, everything, everything she has to offer.

She keeps kissing his neck, but this time, she starts to move her hand, up and down, tight and slowly, like sweet torture.

“How does my hand feel around your cock? Tell me” She starts to kiss his collarbone.

“So good darling, please”

She goes down until she replaces her hands with her lips, she starts feeling his head, tasting his pre-cum, then she gets inch after inch.

“Gonna put all my cock in this little dirty mouth, pet?” Harry howls.

Harry grabs (y/n)’s hair, commanding the speed and the deepness. Such a good girl.

As he feels himself close, he takes her mouth off his cock, she does a pout, and then he explains while grabbing her, making her bareback meet the mattress.

“Wan’ to be inside your little cunt, can I pet?” He asks brushing his lips on her ears

“Yes, please.” (y/n) bagged

Harry take the only piece of fabric there was on her lovely body.

Harry starts rubbing her clit. He puts two fingers in her entrance, starting to move lazily.

“Need to feel if you are wet enough, right pet? Need to stretch out this cunt a little bit.”

“Just go, please, need ya.”

“I need ya to pet, come on”

Harry puts his cock head on her little cunt.

“Nice and slow pet, you will be ok.” He says, stretches her out with his cock, inch by inch. She feels so good. So warm, so tight.

“I am all in, pet.”

“Move please, move slowly, need to feel you.”

Harry does as tell, started to move bit by bit, he wanted to feel every part of her walls, the way they accepted his thick cock in her narrow pussy.

“You are so good Harry, can feel your veins, everything, you feel like home, need more Harry”

Harry goes fast, and (y/n) can feel his pubs contacting with her clit, every time he would push him out, just to be in again.

He starts to rub her little bottom, seeing her like that, all fucked up, moaning, dripping sweat, it was the prettiest view. He soon will be wasted.

“Do you like the way my cock feels inside you, pet? So good right, you are such a good girl, darling, come on, cum for me. Will ya?”

With those filth words leaving Harry’s lips, she just can’t, her wall starts to swallow his cock, squeezing him even more. He rubs her clit a little more and she is a goner.

Her body starts to flutter, and the moans get higher as she released herself to him.

“Shh, calm down pet, I got you”

Harry gives more trust, feeling her pussy embrace him with little spasms. And he feels his milk leaving his cock, getting into her pink walls.

Harry puts himself over her, sharing his weight with the bed, still inside her. Feeling her one last time. She feels so good.

“I am gonna take off, darling”

She starts to mumble

“Shh, it’s ok, hold on pet”

He gets off her and lays by her sad in her bed. He pets her cheeks.

“Hey, are you alright?” harry askes

“Yeah, just really fucked up,” She says laughing to look at me

And both laugh together for the last time. And it just felt right.

On the next day, (y/n) wake up with a little card on her pillow.

Hope you always retain your freedom and audacity. You are the universe in form of a girl.

Hope I am one of the characters of your books, cause now, you surely are a melody to one of my songs.

Love H.

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